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But hear me, Priestess thougn each nymph of these Must he too, glorious as he is, be driven
Hath some peculiar practised power to please, A renegade like me from Love and Heaven i
Some glance or step, which, at the inirror tried, Like me ?-weak wretch, I wrong him-not like me;
First charms herself, then all the world beside; No-he's all truth, and strength, and purity!
There still wants one to make the victory sure, Fill up your madd’ning hell-cup to the brim,
One, who in every look joins every lure;

Its witchery, fiends, will have no charm for him.
Through whom all beauty's beams concenter'd pass, Let loose your glowing wantons from their bowers,
Dazzling and warm, as through love's burning-glass; He loves, he loves, and can defy their powers !
Whose gentle lips persuade without a word, Wretch as I am, in his heart still I reign
Whose words, ev'n when unmeaning, are ador'd, Pure as when first we met, without a stain !
Like inarticulate breathings from a shrine,

Though ruin'd—lost-my memory, like a charm Which our faith takes for granted are divine ! Left by the dead, still keeps his soul from harm. Such is the nymph we want, all warmth and light, Oh! never let him know how deep the brow To crown the rich temptations of to-night; He kiss'd at parting is dishonour'd now, Such the refined enchantress that must be

Ne'er tell him how debas'd, how sunk is she, This Hero's vanquisher,-and thou art she !" Whom once he lov'd-once !-still loves dotingly. With her hands clasp'd, her lips apart and pale,

Thou laugh’st, tormentor,—what!--thoul't brand my

pame? The maid had stood, gazing upon the Veil From whence these words, like south-winds through He thinks me true, that nought beneath God's sky

Do, do-in vain-he'll not believe my shamea fence Of Kerzrah flow'rs, came filled with pestilence:'

Could tempt or change me, and—so once thought I. So boldly utter'd too! as if all dread

But this is past—though worse than death my lot, Of frowns from her, of virtuous frowns, were fled,

Than hell—'tis nothing, while he knows it not. And the wretch felt assur'd, that once plung'd in,

Far off to some benighted land I'll fiy, Her woman's soul would know no pause in sin!

Where sunbeam ne'er shall enter till I die;

Where none will ask the lost one whence she came At first, though mute she listen'd, like a dream

But I may fade and fall without a name! Seem'd all he said ; nor could her mind, whose beam And thou-curst man or fiend, whate'er thou art, As yet was weak, penetrate half his scheme.

Who found'st this burning plague-spot in my heart, But when, at length, he utter'd “Thon art she !"

And spread'st it-oh, so quick thro' soul and frame All flash'd at once, and, shrieking piteously,

With more than demon's art, till I became " Oh not for worlds!" she cried—“Great God! to A loathsome thing, all pestilence, all fame! whom

If when I'm goneI once knelt innocent, is this my doom?

“Hold, fearless maniac, hold, Are all my dreams, my hopes of heavenly bliss,

Nor tempt my rage-by Heav'n, not half so bold My purity, my pride, then come to this,

The puny bird that dares with teazing hum To live, the wanton of a fiend ! to be

Within the crocodile's stretch'd jaws to come.'The pander of his guilt-oh, infamy!

And so thou'lt fly, forsooth ?—what, give up all
And sunk, myself, as low as hell can steep Thy chaste dominions in the Haram hall,
In its hot flood, drag others down as deep!

Where now to Love, and now to Alla given, Others ?-ha! yes that youth who carne to-day- Half mistress and half saint, thou hang'st as even Not him I lov'd-not him-oh! do but say,

As doth Medina's tomb, 'twixt hell and heaven! But swear to me this moment 'tis not he, And I will serve, dark fiend ! will worship, even thee!" The gaunt snake once hath fix'd his eyes upon;

Thou'lt fly?-as easily may reptiles run, “Beware, young raving thing !-in time beware, As easily, when caught, the prey may be Nor utter what I cannot, must not bear

Pluck'd from his loving folds, as thou from me.
Ev'n from thy lips. Go--try thy lute, thy voice; No, no, 'tis fix'd- let good or ill betide,
The boy must feel their magic-I rejoice

Thou'rt mine till death, till death MOKANNA's bride!
To see those fires, no matter whence they rise, Hast thou forgot thy oath ?”—
Once more illuming my fair Priestess' eyes;

At this dread word And should the youth, whom soon those eyes shall The maid, whose spirit his rude taunts had stirr'd warm,

Through all its depths, and rous'd an anger there, Indeed resemble thy dead lover's form,

That burst and lighten'd ev'n through her despair ! So much the happier wilt thou find thy doom, Shrunk back, as if a blight were in the breath As one warm lover, full of life and bloom,

That spoke that word, and stagger'd, pale as death. Excels ten thousand cold ones in the tomb.Nay, nay, no frowning, sweet! those eyes were made

“Yes, my sworn bride, let others seek in bowers For love, not anger-I must be obey'd.”

The bridal place—the charnel vault was ours !

Instead of scents and balms, for thee and me Obey'd !-'tis well-yes, I deserve it all

Rose the rich steams of sweet mortality ;On me, on me Heav'n's vengeance cannot fall

Gay flickering death-lights shone while we were wed, Too heavily--but Azim, brave and true,

And, for our guests, a row of goodly dead, And beautiful-must he be ruin'd too?

1 The ancient story concerning the Trochilus, or bum1 "It is commonly said in Persia, that if a man breathe ming bird, entering with impunity into the mouth of the in the hot south-wind, which in June or July passes over crocodile, 'is firmly believed ut Java. Barrow's Cochin that flower, (the Korzerah,] it will kill him." Thevenot. China.


(Immortal spirits in their time, no doubt,)

introduced, and FADLADEEN, who could never make Frum reeking shrouds, upon the rite Jook'd out! up his mind as to the merits of a poet, till he knew That oath thou heardst more lips than thine repeat the religious sect to which he belonged, was about That cup—thou shudderest, lady-was it sweet? to ask him whether he was a Shia or a Sooni, when That cup we pledg'd, the charnel's choicest wine, LALLA Rookh impatiently clapped her hands for Hath bound thee-aye-body and soul all mine; silence, and the youth, being seated upon the musnud Bound thee by chains, that, whether blest or curst near her, proceeded :No matter now, not hell itself shall burst! Hence, woman, to the Haram, and look gay,

PREPARE thy soul, young Azim! thou hast bravid Look wild, look--any thing but sad ;-yet stay

The bands of GREECE, still mighty, though enslav'd, One moment more--from what this night hath pass'd, Hast fac'd her phalanx, arm'd with all its fame, I see that thou know'st me, know'st me well at last. Her Macedonian pikes and globes of flame; Ha ! ha! and so, fond thing, thou thought'st all true, All this hast fronted, with firm heart and brow, And that I love mankind !--I do, I do-

But a more perilous trial waits thee now,As victims, love them; as the sea-dog doats Woman's bright eyes, a dazzling host of eyes Upon the small sweet fry that round him floats ; From every land where woman smiles or sighs ; Or as the Nile-bird loves the slime that gives Of every hue, as Love may chance to raise That rank and venomous food on which she lives !! His black or azure banner in their blaze; And, now thou see'st my soul's angelic hue, And each sweet mode of warfare, from the flash 'Tis time those features were uncurtain'd too;- That lightens boldly through the shadowy lash, This brow, whose light-oh, rare celestial light! To the sly, stealing splendours, almost hid, Hath been reserv'd to bless thy favour'd sight! Like swords half-sheath d, beneath the downcast lid These dazzling eyes, before whose shrouded might Such, Azim, is the lovely, luminous host Thou'st seen immortal man kneel down and quake- Now led against thee; and, let conquerors boast Would that they were Heaven's lightnings for his sake! Their fields of fame, he who in virtue arms But turn and look—then wonder, if thou wilt, A young, warm spirit against beauty's charms, That I should hate, should take revenge, by guilt,

Who feels her brightness, yet defies her thrall, Upon the hand, whose mischief or whose mirth Is the best, bravest conqueror of them all. Sent me thus maim'd and monstrous upon earth; Now, through the Harem chambers, moving lights And on that race who, though more vile they be And busy shapes proclaim the toilet's rites ;Than mowing apes, are demi-gods to me!

From room to room the ready handmaids hie,
Here, judge, if Hell with all its power to damn, Some skill d to wreathe the turban tastefully,
Can add one curse to the foul thing I am!"-

Or hang the veil, in negligence of shade,
He rais'd his veil—the Maid turn'd slowly round, O'er the warm blushes of the youthful maid,
Look'd at him—shriek'd—and sunk upon the ground. Who, if between the folds but one eye shone,

Like SEBA's Queen could vanquish with that one:

While some bring leaves of Henna to imbue On their arrival, next night, at the place of encamp- The fingers' ends with a bright roseate hue,? ment, they were surprised and delighted to find the So bright, that in the mirror's depth they seem groves all round illuminated; some artists of Yam- Like tips of coral branches in the stream; tcheou having been sent on previously for the pur- And others mix the Kohol's jetty dye, pose. On each side of the green alley, which led to To give that long, dark languish to the eye,' the Royal Pavilion, artificial sceneries of bamboo- Which makes the maids, whom kings are proud to cull work were erected, representing arches, minarets, From fair Circassia's vales, so beautiful. and towers, from which hung thousands of silken

All is in motion; rings, and plumes, and pearls lanterns, painted by the most delicate pencils of Can. Are shining every where ;-some younger girls ton. Nothing could be more beautiful than the leaves Are gone by moonlight to the garden beds, of the mango-trees and acacias, shining in the light To gather fresh, cool chaplets for their heads ; of the bamboo scenery, which shed a lustre round as Gay creatures ! sweet, though mournful 'tis to see soft as that of the nights of Peristan.

How each prefers a garland from that tree LALLA Rooks, however, who was too much occu. Which brings to mind her childhood's innocent day, pied by the sad story of ZELICA and her lover, to And the dear fields and friendships far away. give a thought to any thing else, except, perhaps, him The maid of India, blest again to hold who related it, hurried on through this scene of splen- In her full lap the Champac's leaves of gold, dour to her pavilion,-greatly to the mortification of Thinks of the time, when, by the Ganges' flood, the poor artists of Yamtcheou,—and was followed Her little play-mates scatter'd many a bud with equal rapidity by the great Chamberlain, cursing, as he went, that ancient Mandarin, whose parental 1 “Thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes." anxiety in lighting up the shores of the lake, where -Sol. Song: his beloved daughter had wandered and been lost, na, so that they resembled branches of coral."-Story of

2 “They tinged the ends of her fingers scarlet with Honwas the origin of these fantastic Chinese illuminations. Prince Futtun in Bahardanusk. Without a moment's delay young FERAMORZ was

3 " The women blacken the inside of their eyelids with a powder named the black Cohol."— Russel.

4 "The appearance of the blossoms of the gold-coloured 1 Circum easdem ripas (Nili, viz.) ales est Ibis. Ex ser-|Campac on the black hair of the Indian women, has sup pentium populatur ova, gratissimamque ex his nidis escam plied the Sanscrit Poets with many elegant allusions. See suis refert.-Solinus.

Asiatic Researches vol. iv.


Upon her long black hair, with glossy gleam At evening, from the tall pagoda's top;-
Just dripping from the consecrated stream; Those golden birds, that, in the spice-time, drop
While the young Arab, haunted by the smell About the gardens, drunk with that sweet food
Of her own mountain-flowers, as by a spell,- Whose scent hath lur'd them o'er the summer flood,
The sweet Elcaya,' and that courteous tree And those that under Araby's soft sun
Which bows to all who seek its canopy? – Build their high nests of budding cinnamon; -
Sees call'd up round her by these magic scents, In short, all rare and beauteous things that fly
The well, the camels, and her father's tents; Through the pure element, here calmly lie
Sighs for the home she left with little pain,

Sleeping in light, like the green birds that dwell And wishes e'en its sorrows back again!

In Eden's radiant fields of asphodel! Meanwhile, through vast illuminated halls,

So on through scenes past all imagining, Silent and bright, where nothing but the falls

More like the luxuries of that impious King, Of fragrant waters, gushing with cool sound

Whom Death's dark Angel, with his lightning torch From many a jasper fount, is heard around,

Struck down and blasted even in Pleasure's porch, Young Azim roams bewilder'd, -nor can guess

Than the pure dwelling of a Prophet sent, What means this maze of light and loneliness.

Arm'd with Heaven's sword, for man's enfranchise Here the way leads, o'er tesselated floors, Or mats of Cairo, through long corridors,

Young Azim wander'd, looking sternly round: Where, rang'd in cassolets and silver urns,

His simple garb and war-boots' clanking sound, Sweet wood of aloe or of sandal burns ;

But ill according with the pomp and grace And spicy rods, such as illume at night

And silent lull of that voluptuous place! The bowers of TIBET,» send forth odorous light, Like Peris' wands, when pointing out the road “Is this, then," thought the youth,“ is this the way For some pure Spirit to its blest abode :

To free man's spirit from the deadening sway And here, at once, the glittering saloon

Of worldly sloth ;-to teach him, while he lives, Bursts on his sight, boundless and bright as noon; To know no bliss but that which virtue gives; Where, in the midst, reflecting back the rays And when he dies, to leave his lofty name In broken rainbows, a fresh fountain plays

A light, a land-mark on the cliffs of fame ? High as th' enamell'd cupola which towers It was not so, land of the generous thought All rich with arabesques of gold and flowers; And daring deed! thy godlike sages taught; And the mosaic floor beneath shines through It was not thus, in bowers of wanton ease, The sprinkling of that fountain's silvery dew, Thy Freedom nurs'd her sacred energies ; Like the wet, glistening shells, of every dye,

Oh! not beneath th' enfeebling, withering glow That on the margin of the Red Sea lie.

Of such dull luxury did those myrtles grow, Here too he traces the kind visitings

With which she wreath'd her sword, when she would Of woman's love in those fair, living things

Of land and wave, whose fate,-in bondage thrown Immortal deeds ; but in the bracing air
For their weak loveliness-is like her own! Of toil,--of temperance,--of that high, rarc,
On one side, gleaming with a sudden grace

Ethereal virtue, which alone can breathe
Through water, brilliant as the crystal vase

Life, health, and lustre into Freedom's wreath! In which it undulates, small fishes shine,

Who, that surveys this span of earth we press, Like golden ingots from a fairy mine;

This speck of life in time's great wilderness, While, on the other, lattic'd lightly in

This narrow isthmus 'twixt two boundless seas, With odoriferous woods of CAMORIN,

The past, the future, two eternities ! Each brilliant bird that wings the air is seen ;

Would sully the bright spot, or leave it bare, Gay, sparkling loories, such as gleam between

When he might build him a proud temple there, The crimson blossoms of the coral tree,“

A name, that long shall hallow all its space, In the warm isles of India's sunny sea :

And be each purer soul's high resting-place? Mecca's blue sacred pigeon, and the thrush

But no--it cannot be that one, whom God Of Indostan,' whose holy warblings gush,

Has sent to break the wizard Falsehood's rod,

A Prophet of the truth, whose mission draws 1 "A tree famous for its perfume, and common on the Its rights from Heaven, should thus profane his cause hills of Yemen."--Niebuhr.

2 of the genus mimosa, “ which droops its branckes With the world's vulgar pomps ;--no, no—I seewhenever any person approaches it, seeming as if it saluted He thinks me weak--this glare of luxury those who retire under its shade."-Niebuhr. 3 "Cloves are a principal ingredient in the composition

Is but to tempt, to try the eaglet gaze of the perfumed rods, which men

of rank keep cunstaudy of my young soul;—shine on, 'twill stand the blaze !" burning in their presence."- Turner's T'ibet.

4" C'est d'où vient le bois d'aloes, que les Arabes appellent Oud Comari, et celui du sandal, qui s'y trouve en 1 Birds of Paradise, which, at the nutmeg season, come grande quantité."-D'Herbelot.

in flights from the southern Isles to India, and the strength 5 “Thousands of variegated loories visit the coral trees." of the nutmeg," says Tavernier, "so intoxicates them, that

Barrow. they fall dead drunk to the earth." 6 "In Mecca, there are quantities of blue pigeons, which 2 " That bird which liveth in Arabia, and buildeth its none will affright or abuse, much less kill."— Pitt's Account nest with cinnamon."Brown's Vulgar Errors. of the Mahometans.

3 “ The spirits of the martyrs will be lodged in the crepe 7 "The Pagoda Thrush is esteemed among the first choof green birds.”Gibbon, vol. ix. p. 421. risters of India. It sits perched on the sacred Pugodas, and 4 Shedad, who made the delicious gardens of Irim, in from thence delivers its melodious song."- Pennant's Hin. imitation of Paradise, and was destroyed or ishining the dostan.

first time he attempted to enter then.



So thought the youth ;-but, ev'n while he defied And now they come, now pass before his eye, The witching scene, he felt its witchery glide Forms such as Nature moulds, when she would vie Through every sense. The perfume, breathing round, With Fancy's pencil, and gave birth to things Like a pervading spirit ;--the still sound

Lovely beyond its fairest picturings! of falling waters, Iulling as the song

Awhile they dance before him, then divide, Of Indian bees at sunset, when they throng Breaking, like rosy clouds at even-tide Around the fragrant Nilica, and deep

Around the rich pavilion of the sun, In its blue blossoms hum themselves to sleep!' Till silently dispersing, one by one, And music too-dear music! that can touch Through many a path that from the chamber leads Beyond all else the soul that loves it much- To gardens, terraces, and moonlight meads, Now heard far off, so far as but to seem

Their distant laughter comes upon the wind, Like the faint, exquisite music of a dream ;- And but one trembling nymph remains behind All was too much for him, too full of bliss : Beck’ning them back in vain, for they are gone, The heart could nothing feel, that felt not this. And she is left in all that light alone; Soften'd, he sunk upon a couch, and gave

No veil to curtain o'er her beauteous brow, His soul up to sweet thoughts, like wave on wave In its young bashfulness more beauteous now; Succeeding in smooth seas, when storms are laid ;- But a light, golden chain-work round her hair, Ile thought of Zelica, his own dear maid, Such as the maids of Yezz and SHIRAZ Wear And of the time, when, full of blissful sighs, From which, on either side, gracefully hung They sat and look'd into each other's eyes, A golden amulet, in th' Arab tongue, Silent and happy—as if God had given

Engraven o'er with some immortal line Nought else worth looking at on this side heaven! From holy writ, or bard scarce less divine; "O my lov'd mistress ! whose enchantments still

While her left hand, as shrinkingly she stood, Are with me, round me, wander where I will

Held a small lute of gold and sandal-wood, It is for thee, for thee alone I seek

Which once or twice, she touch'd with hurried strain, The paths of glory-to light up thy cheek

Then took her trembling fingers off again. With warm approval—in that gentle look,

But when at length a timid glance she stole To read my praise, as in an angel's book,

At Azim, the sweet gravity of soul And think all toils rewarded, when from thee

She saw through all his features calm’d her fear,

And, like a half-tam'd antelope, more near,
I gain a smile, worth immortality!
How shall I bear the moment, when restor'd

Though shrinking still, she came ;-then sat her down To that young heart where I alone am lord,

Upon a musnud's' edge; and, bolder grown, Though of such bliss unworthy,-since the best

In the pathetic mode of Isfahan

Touch'd a preluding strain, and thus began :Alone deserve to be the happiest ! When from those lips, unbreath'd upon for years, There's a bower of roses by BENDEMEER'S) stream, I shall again kiss off the soul-felt tears,

And the nightingale sings round it all the day long; And find those tears warm as when last they started, In the time of my childhood 'twas like a sweet dream, Those sacred kisses pure as when we parted !

To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song.
Oh my own life !-why should a single day,
A moment, keep me from those arms away ?” That bower and its music I never forget,

But oft when alone, in the bloom of the year, While thus he thinks, still nearer on the breeze

I think—is the nightingale singing there yet ?
Come those delicious, dream-like harmonies,
Each note of which but adds new, downy links

Are the roses still bright by the calm BENDEMEER? To the soft chain in which his spirit sinks.

No, the roses soon wither'd that hung o'er the wave, He turns him tow'rd the sound, and, far away But some blossoms were gather'd, while freshly Through a long vista, sparkling with the play

they shone, Of countless lamps,-like the rich track which Day And a dew was distilld from their flowers, that gave Leaves on the waters, when he sinks froin us ; All the fragrance of summer, when summer was So long the path, its light so tremulous ;

gone. He sees a group of female forms advance,

Thus memory draws from delight, ere it dies,
Some chain'd together in the mazy dance

An essence that breathes of it many a year;
By fetters, forg'd in the green sunny bowers,
As they were captives to the King of Flowers ;-

Thus bright to my soul, as 'twas then to my eyes, And some disporting round, unlink'd and free,

Is that bower on the banks of the calm BENDEMEER! Who seern'd to mock their sister's slavery,

"Poor maiden !" thought the youth, “if thou wert And round and round them still, in wheeling flight

sent, Went, like gay moths about a lamp at night; With thy soft lute and beauty's blandishment, While others walk'd as gracefully along,

To wake unholy wishes in this heart, Their feet kept time, the very soul of song

Or tempt its truth, thou little know'st the art. From psaltery, pipe, and lutes of heavenly thrill, Or their own youthful voices, heavenlier still! 1 Musnuds are cushioned seats, usually reserved for per

sons of distinction.

2 The Persians, like the ancient Greeks, call their musical 1 "My Pundits assure me that the plant before us (the modes or Perdas by the names of different countries or Nilica) is their Sephalica, thus named because the bees are cities; as, the mode of Isfahan, the mode of Irak, ote supposed to sleep on iw blossoms."-Sir W. Jones.

3 A river which flows near the ruins of Chilminar



For though thy lip should sweetly counsel wrong, His breath is the soul of flowers like these,
Those vestal eyes would disavow its song.

And his floating eyes-oh! they resemble But thou hast breath'd such purity, thy lay

Blue water-lilies,' when the breeze Returns so fondly to youth's virtuous day,

Is making the stream around them tremble ! And leads thy soul—if e'er it wander'd thence- Hail to thee, hail to thee, kindling power! So gently back to its first innocence,

Spirit of Love, Spirit of Bliss ! That I would sooner stop th' unchained dove,

Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour, When swift returning to its home of love,

And there never was moonlight so sweet as this And round its snowy wing new fetters twine, Than turn from virtue one pure wish of thine."

By the fair and brave,

Who blushing unite, Scarce had this feeling pass'd, when, sparkling

Like the sun and the wave, through

When they meet at night! The gently open'd curtains of light blue

By the tear that shows That veil'd the breezy casement, countless eyes,

When passion is nigh, Peeping like stars through the blue evening skies,

As the rain-drop flows
Look'd laughing in, as if to mock the pair

From the heat of the sky!
That sat so still and melancholy there.-
And now the curtains fly apart, and in

By the first love-beat
From the cool air, 'mid showers of jessamine

of the youthful heart, Which those without fling after them in play,

By the bliss to meet, Two lightsome maidens spring, lightsome as they

And the pain to part! Who live in th' air on odours, and around

By all that thou hast The bright saloon, scarce conscious of the ground,

To mortals given, Chase one another in a varying dance

Which-oh! could it last, Of mirth and languor, coyness and advance,

This earth were heaven!
Too eloquently like love's warm pursuit :-

We call thee hither, entrancing Power !
While she, who sung so gently to the lute
Her dream of bome, steals timidly away,

Spirit of Love! Spirit of Bliss !

Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour! Shrinking as violets do in summer's ray,

And there never was moonlight so sweet as chis But takes with her from Azim's heart that sigh We sometimes give to forms that pass us by In the world's crowd, too lovely to remain,

Impatient of a scene, whose luxuries stole,

Spite of himself, too deep into his soul, Creatures of light we never see again!

And where, 'midst all that the young heart loves most, Around the white necks of the nymphs who danc'd, Flowers, music, smiles, to yield was to be lost ; Hung carcanets of orient gems, that glanc'd

The youth had started up and turn'd away More brilliant than the sea-glass glittering o'er

From the light nymphs and their luxurious lay, The hills of crystal on the Caspian shore ;'

To muse upon the pictures that hung round, While from their long, dark tresses, in a fall

Bright images, that spoke without a sound, Of curls descending, bells as musical

And views, like vistas into fairy ground. As those that, on the golden-shafted trees

But here again new spells came o'er his sense ;OF EDEN, shake in the Eternal Breeze, ?

All that the pencil's mute omnipotence Rung round their steps, at every bound more sweet, Could call up into life, of soft and fair, As 'twere th' ecstatic language of their feet !

Of fond and passionate, was glowing there; At length the chase was o'er, and they stood wreath'a Nor yet too warm, but touch'd with that fine art Within each other's arms ; while soft there breath'd Which paints of pleasure but the purer part; Through the cool casement, mingled with the sighs Which knows ev'n Beauty when half-veil'd is best, Of moonlight flowers, music that seem'd to rise Like her own radiant planet of the west, From some still lake, so liquidly it rose;

Whose orb when half retir'd looks loveliest ! And, as it swell'd again at each faint close,

There hung the history of the Genii-King, The ear could track through all that maze of chords Trac'd through each gay, voluptuous wandering And young sweet voices, these impassion'd words :

With her from Saba's bowers, in whose bright eyes

He read that to be blest is to be wise ;A SPIRIT there is, whose fragrant sigh

Here fond ZuLEIKA’ woos with open arms Is burning now through earth and air; The Hebrew boy, who flies from her young charms, Where cheeks are blushing, the Spirit is nigh, Yet, flying, turns to gaze, and, half undone,

Where lips are meeting, the Spirit is there ! Wishes that heav'n and she could both be won !

1 "To the north of us, (on the coast of the Caspian, near 1 The blue lotos, which grows in Cashmere and in Badku) was a mountain which sparkled like diamonds, Persia. erising from the sea-glass and crystals, with which it 2 For the loves of King Solomon, (who was supposed to abounds." - Journey of the Russian Ambassador to Per preside over the whole race of Genii) with Balkis, the sia, 1746.

Queen of Sheba or Saba, see D' Herbelot, and the Notes 9 “To which will be added, the sound of the bells, hang on the Koran, chap. 2. ing on the trees, which will be put in motion by the wind 3 The wife of Potiphar, thus named by the Orientale. proceeding from the throne of God, as often as the blessed Her adventure with the Patriarch Joseph is the subject of wieb for music."-Sale

many of their poems and romances

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