A something, light as air-a look,

A word unkind, or wrongly taken-
Oh! love, that tempests never shook,
A breath, a touch like this hath shaken.
And ruder words will soon rush in
To spread the breach that words begin :
And eyes forget the gentle ray
They wore in courtship's smiling day;
And voices lose the tone that shed
A tenderness round all they said;
Till fast declining, one by one,
The sweetnesses of love are gone,
And hearts, so lately mingled, seem
Like broken clouds, or like the stream,
That smiling left the mountain's brow,
As though its waters ne'er could sever,
Yet, ere it reach the plain below,

Breaks into floods, that part for ever.
Oh you, that have the charge of Love,
Keep him in rosy bondage bound,
As in the Fields of Bliss above

He sits, with flowrets fetter'd round ;'-
Loose not a tie that round him clings,
Nor ever let him use his wings;
For ev'n an hour, a minute's flight
Will rob the plumes of half their light.
Like that celestial bird,-whose nest

Is found beneath far Eastern skies,Whose wings; though radiant when at rest, Lose all their glory when he flies !? Some difference, of this dangerous kind,By which, though light, the links that bind The fondest hearts may soon be riven; Some shadow in love's summer heaven, Which, though a fleecy speck at first, May yet in awful thunder burst ;Such cloud it is, that now hangs over The heart of the Imperial Lover, And far hath banish'd from his sight His NOURMAHAL, his Haram's Light! Hence is it, on this happy night,

When Pleasure through the fields and groves
Has let loose all her world of loves,
And every heart has found its own,-

He wanders, joyless and alone,

And weary as that bird of Thrace,

Whose pinion knows no resting-place.3
In vain the loveliest cheeks and eyes

This Eden of the earth supplies

Come crowding round-the cheeks are pale, The eyes are dim-though rich the spot With every flower this earth has got,

What is it to the nightingale,

If there his darling rose is not ?4

In vain the Valley's smiling throng
Worship him, as he moves along;
He heeds them not-one smile of hers
Is worth a world of worshippers;
They but the Star's adorers are,
She is the Heav'n that lights the Star!

Hence is it too, that NOURMAHAL,
Amid the luxuries of this hour,
Far from the joyous festival,

Sits in her own sequester'd bower,
With no one near, to soothe or aid,
But that inspir'd and wond'rous maid,
NAMOUNA, the Enchantress;-one,
O'er whom his race the golden sun
For unremember'd years has run,
Yet never saw her blooming brow
Younger or fairer than 'tis now.
Nay, rather, as the west wind's sigh
Freshens the flower it passes by,
Time's wing but seem'd, in stealing o'er,
To leave her lovelier than before.
Yet on her smiles a sadness hung,
And when, as oft, she spoke or sung
Of other worlds, there came a light
From her dark eyes so strangely bright,
That all believ'd nor man nor earth
Were conscious of NAMOUNA's birth!
All spells and talismans she knew,
From the great Mantra,' which around
The Air's sublimer Spirits drew,

To the gold gems2 of AFRIC, bound Upon the wandering Arab's arm, To keep him from the Siltim's3 harm. And she had pledg'd her powerful art, Pledg'd it with all the zeal and heart Of one who knew, though high her sphere, What 'twas to lose a love so dear, To find some spell that should recall Her SELIM's smile to NOURMAHAL!

'Twas midnight-through the lattice, wreath'd
With woodbine, many a perfume breath'd
From plants that wake when others sleep,
From timid jasmine buds, that keep
Their odour to themselves all day,
But, when the sun-light dies away,
Let the delicious secret out

To every breeze that roams about ;-
When thus NAMOUNA:-" "Tis the hour
That scatters spells on herb and flower,
And garlands might be gather'd now,
That, twin'd around the sleeper's brow,
Would make him dream of such delights,
Such miracles and dazzling sights,

constant heart, for more than the sweet breath of his beloved rose."-Jami.

1" He is said to have found the great Mantra, spell or talisman, through which he ruled over the elements and spirits of all denominations."-Wilford.

2" The gold jewels of Jinnie, which are called by the Arabs El Herrez, from the supposed charm they contain."— Jackson.

3" A demon, supposed to haunt woods, &c. in a human shape."-Richardson.

4" The name of Jehanguire before his accession to the throne.

"For me,

for me,"

Cried NOURMAHAL impatiently,

"Oh! twine that wreath for me to-night." Then rapidly, with foot as light

As the young musk-roe's, out she flew
To cull each shining leaf that grew
Beneath the moonlight's hallowing beams
For this enchanted Wreath of Dreams.
Anemones and Seas of Gold,'

And new-blown lilies of the river,
And those sweet flowrets, that unfold

Their buds on CAMEDEVA's quiver;2The tube-rose, with her silvery light, That in the Gardens of MALAY Is call'd the Mistress of the Night," So like a bride, scented and bright,

She comes out when the sun's away.-
Amaranths, such as crown the maids
That wander through ZAMARA's shades ;4-
And the white moon-flower, as it shows
On SERENDIB's high crags to those
Who near the isle at evening sail,
Scenting her clove-trees in the gale ;-
In short, all flowrets and all plants,
From the divine Amrita tree,"
That blesses heaven's inhabitants
With fruits of immortality,
Down to the basil tuft, that waves
Its fragrant blossom over graves,

And to the humble rosemary,
Whose sweets so thanklessly are shed
To scent the desert-and the dead,-
All in that garden bloom, and all
Are gather'd by young NOURMAHAL,

1" Hemasagare, or the Sea of Gold, with flowers of the brightest gold colour."-Sir W. Jones.

2" This tree (the Nagacesara) is one of the most delightful on earth, and the delicious odour of its blossoms justly gives them a place in the quiver of Camadeva, or the God of Love."-Id.

3" The Malayans style the tube-rose (Polianthes tuberosa) Sandal Malam, or the Mistress of the Night."-Pen

nant.

4 The people of the Batta country in Sumatra (of which Zamara is one of the ancient names) "when not engaged in war, lead an idle, inactive life, passing the day in playing on a kind of flute, crowned with garlands of flowers, among which the globe-amaranthus, a native of the country, mostly prevails."-Marsden.

5"The largest and richest sort (of the Jambu or roseapple) is called Amrita or immortal, and the mythologists of Tibet apply the same word to a celestial tree, bearing ambrosial fruit."-Sir W. Jones.

6 Sweet-basil, called Rayban in Persia, and generally found in church-yards.

7" In the Great Desert are found many stalks of lavender and rosemary."-Asiat. Res.

Who heaps her baskets with the flowers
And leaves, till they can hold no more,
Then to NAMOUNA flies, and showers
Upon her lap the shining store.
With what delight th' Enchantress views
So many buds, bath'd with the dews
And beams of that bless'd hour!—her glance
Spoke something, past all mortal pleasures,
As, in a kind of holy trance,

She hung above those fragrant treasures,
Bending to drink their balmy airs,
As if she mix'd her soul with theirs.
And 'twas, indeed, the perfume shed
From flow'rs and scented flame that fed
Her charmed life-for none had e'er
Beheld her taste of mortal fare,
Nor ever in aught earthly dip,
But the morn's dew, her roseate lip.
Fill'd with the cool, inspiring smell,
Th' Enchantress now begins her spell,
Thus singing, as she winds and weaves
In mystic form the glittering leaves :-

No sooner was the flowery crown
Plac'd on her head, than sleep came down,
Gently as nights of summer fall,
Upon the lids of NOURMAHAL ;-
And, suddenly, a tuneful breeze,
As full of small, rich harmonies
As ever wind, that o'er the tents
Of AZAB' blew, was full of scents,
Steals on her ear and floats and swells,
Like the first air of morning creeping
Into those wreathy, Red-Sea shells,

Where Love himself, of old, lay sleeping;2And now a spirit form'd, 'twould seem,

Of music and of light, so fair,
So brilliantly his features beam,

And such a sound in the air
Of sweetness, when he waves his wings,
Hovers around her, and thus sings:-

And Hope from a heavenly note flies on,

To a note more heavenly still that is near! The warrior's heart, when touch'd by me, Can as downy soft and as yielding be,

As his own white plume, that high amid death Through the field has shone-yet moves with a breath.

And, oh, how the eyes of beauty glisten,

When Music has reach'd her inward soul,
Like th' silent stars, that wink and listen
While Heav'n's eternal melodies roll!
So, hither I come,

From my fairy home,

And if there's a magic in Music's strain, I swear by the breath

Of that moonlight wreath, Thy lover shall sigh at thy feet again.

From CHINDARA's3 warbling fount I come, Call'd by that moonlight garland's spell; From CHINDARA's fount, my fairy home,

Where in music, morn and night, I dwell; Where lutes in the air are heard about,

And voices are singing the whole day long, And every sigh the heart breathes out

Is turn'd, as it leaves the lips, to song!
Hither I come

From my fairy home,

And if there's a magic in Music's strain,
I swear by the breath

Of that moonlight wreath,
Thy Lover shall sigh at thy feet again.

For mine is the lay that lightly floats,
And mine are murmuring, dying notes,
That fall as soft as snow on the sea,
And melt in the heart as instantly!
And the passionate strain that, deeply going,
Refines the bosom it trembles through,
As the musk-wind, over the water blowing,
Ruffles the wave, but sweetens it too!

Mine is the charm, whose mystic sway
The Spirits of past Delight obey:
Let but the tuneful talisman sound,
And they come, like Genii, hovering round.
And mine is the gentle song, that bears
From soul to soul, the wishes of love,
As a bird, that wafts through genial airs

The cinnamon seed from grove to grove.*
"Tis I that mingle in one sweet measure
The past, the present, and future of pleasure;
When Memory links the tone that is gone
With the blissful tone that's still in the ear;

1 The myrrh country.

2 "This idea (of deities living in shells, was not unknown to the Greeks, who represent the young Nerites, one of the Cupids, as living in shells on the shores of the Red Sea." Wilford.

3A fabulous fountain, where instruments are said to be constantly playing."-Richardson.

4 The Pompadour pigeon is the species, which, by carrying the fruit of the cinnamon to different places, is a great disseminator of this valuable tree."-See Brown's ilustr. Tab. 19.

L

"Tis dawn-at least that earlier dawn,
Whose glimpses are again withdrawn,'
As if the morn had wak'd, and then
Shut close her lids of light again.
And NOURMAHAL is up, and trying

The wonders of her lute, whose strings-
Oh bliss!-now murmur like the sighing

From that ambrosial Spirit's wings! And then, her voice-'tis more than humanNever, till now, had it been given

To lips of any mortal woman

To utter notes so fresh from heaven; Sweet as the breath of angel sighs,

When angel sighs are most divine.— "Oh! let it last till night," she cries, "And he is more than ever mine." And hourly she renews the lay,

So fearful lest its heavenly sweetness Should, ere the evening, fade away,

For things so heavenly have such fleetness! But, far from fading, it but grows

Richer, diviner as it flows;
Till rapt she dwells on every string,
And pours again each sound along,
Like Echo, lost and languishing

In love with her own wondrous song.
That evening, (trusting that his soul
Might be from haunting love releas'd
By mirth, by music, and the bowl)

Th' Imperial SELIM held a Feast
In his magnificent Shalimar;

In whose Saloons, when the first star
Of evening o'er the waters trembled,
The Valley's loveliest all assembled;
All the bright creatures that, like dreams,
Glide through its foliage, and drink beams
Of beauty from its founts and streams,2
And all those wandering minstrel-maids,
Who leave-how can they leave?-the shades
Of that dear Valley, and are found

1 "They have two mornings, the Soobhi Kazim, and the Soobhi Sadig, the false and the real day-break."-Waring.

2"The waters of Cachemir are the more renowned from its being supposed that the Cachemirians are indebted for their beauty to them."-Ali Yezdi.

Singing in gardens of the South' Those songs, that ne'er so sweetly sound As from a young Cashmerian's mouth; There too the Haram's inmates smile ;

Maids from the West, with sun-bright hair, And from the Garden of the NILE,

Delicate as the roses there;2
Daughters of Love from CYPRUS' rocks,
With Paphian diamonds in their locks ;3
Light Peri forms, such as there are
On the gold meads of CANDAHAR ;4
And they, before whose sleepy eyes,

In their own bright Kathaian bowers,
Sparkle such rainbow butterflies,

That they might fancy the rich flowers,
That round them in the sun lay sighing,
Had been by magic all set flying!

Every thing young, every thing fair
From East and West is blushing there.
Except-except-oh NOURMAHAL !
Thou loveliest, dearest of them all,
The one, whose smile shone out alone,
Amidst a world the only one!
Whose light, among so many lights,
Was like that star, on starry nights,
The seaman singles from the sky,
To steer his bark for ever by!

Thou wert not there-so SELIM thought,

And every thing seem'd drear without thee: But ah! thou wert, thou wert-and brought Thy charm of song all fresh about thee. Mingling unnotic'd with a band Of lutanists from many a land, And veil'd by such a mask as shades The features of young Arab maids,A mask that leaves but one eye free, To do its best in witchery,She rov'd, with beating heart, around,

And waited, trembling, for the minute, When she might try if still the sound

Of her lov'd lute had magic in it.

The board was spread with fruits and wine; With grapes of gold, like those that shine On CASBIN'S hills ;-pomegranates full

1 "From him I received the following little Gazzel, or Love Song, the notes of which he committed to paper from the voice of one of those singing girls of Cachinere, who wander from that delightful valley over the various parts of India."-Persian Miscellanies.

2 "The roses of the Jinan Nile, or Garden of the Nile, (attached to the Emperor of Morocco's palace) are unequalled, and mattresses are made of their leaves for men of rank to recline upon."-Jackson.

3 "On the side of a mountain near Paphos there is a cavern which produces the most beautiful rock crystal. On account of its brilliancy it has been called the Paphian diamond."-Mariti.

4 "There is a part of Candahar, called Peria or Fairy Land."-Thevenot. In some of those countries to the North of India vegetable gold is supposed to be produced.

Of melting sweetness, and the pears And sunniest apples that CAUBUul' In all its thousand gardens2 bears. Plantains, the golden and the green, MALAYA's nectar'd mangusteen ;3 Prunes of BOKARA, and sweet nuts

4

From the far groves of SAMARKAND,
And BASRA dates, and apricots,
Seed of the Sun, from IRAN's land;-
With rich conserve of Visna cherries,
Of Orange flowers, and of those berries
That, wild and fresh, the young gazelles
Feed on in ERAC's rocky dells."
All these in richest vases smile,

In baskets of pure sandal-wood,
And urns of porcelain from that isle"
Sunk underneath the Indian flood,
Whence oft the lucky diver brings
Vases to grace the halls of kings.
Wines too, of every clime and hue,
Around their liquid lustre threw ;
Amber Rosolli,"-the bright dew
From vineyards of the Green-Sea gushing;"
And SHIRAZ wine, that richly ran

As if that jewel, large and rare,
The ruby, for which CUBLAI-CHAN
Offer'd a city's wealth,1° was blushing
Melted within the goblets there!

And amply SELIM quaffs of each,
And seems resolv'd the floods shall reach
His inward heart-shedding around

A genial deluge, as they run,

That soon shall leave no spot undrown'd,
For Love to rest his wings upon.

He little knew how well the boy
Can float upon a goblet's streams,
Lighting them with his smile of joy ;—
As bards have seen him, in their dreams,
Down the blue GANGES laughing glide
Upon a rosy lotus wreath,11
Catching new lustre from the tide

That with his image shone beneath.

1 "The fruits exported from Caubul are apples, pears, pomegranates, etc."-Elphinstone.

2 "We sat down under a tree, listened to the birds, and talked with the son of our Mehmaunder about our country and Caubul, of which he gave an enchanting account: that city and its 100,000 gardens, etc."-Id.

3 "The Mangusteen, the most delicate fruit in the world; the pride of the Malay Islands."—Marsden.

4"A delicious kind of apricot, called by the Persians tokm-ed-shems, signifying sun's seed.”—Description of Persia.

5" Sweetmeats in a crystal cup, consisting of rose-leaves in conserve, with lemon or Visna cherry, orange flowers, etc."-Russel.

6 "Antelopes cropping the fresh berries of Erac."-The Moallakat, a poem of Tarafa.

Kempfer.

8 Persian Tales.

9 The white wine of Kishma.

10 "The King of Zeilan is said to have the very finest ruby that was ever seen, Kublai-Kahn sent and offered the value of a city for it, but the King answered he would not give it for the treasure of the world."-Marco Polo.

11 The Indians feign that Cupid was first seen_floating down the Ganges on the Nymphæa Nelumbo.-See Pen

nant.

But what are cups, without the aid

Of song to speed them as they flow? And see a lovely Georgian maid,

With all the bloom, the freshen'd glow Of her own country maidens' looks, When warm they rise from TEFLIS' brooks;' And with an eye, whose restless ray,

Full, floating, dark-oh he, who knows His heart is weak, of heav'n should pray, To guard him from such eyes as those!— With a voluptuous wildness flings Her snowy hand across the strings Of a syrinda, and thus sings :

Come hither, come hither-by night and by day,
We linger in pleasures that never are gone;
Like the waves of the summer, as one dies away
Another as sweet and as shining comes on.
And the love that is o'er, in expiring gives birth
To a new one as warm, as unequall'd in bliss;
And oh! if there be an Elysium on earth,
It is this, it is this.

Here maidens are sighing, and fragrant their sigh
As the flower of the Amra just op'd by a bee;3
And precious their tears as that rain from the sky,*
Which turns into pearls as it falls in the sea.
Oh! think what the kiss and the smile must be worth,
When the sigh and the tear are so perfect in bliss;
And own, if there be an Elysium on earth,
It is this, it is this.

Here sparkles the nectar, that hallow'd by love, Could draw down those angels of old from their sphere,

Who for wine of this earth' left the fountains above, And forgot heaven's stars for the eyes we have here.

And, bless'd with the odour our goblets give forth,
What Spirit the sweets of his Eden would miss ?
For oh! if there be an Elysium on earth,
It is this, it is this.

The Georgian's song was scarcely mute,
When the same measure, sound for sound,
Was caught up by another lute,

And so divinely breath'd around,
That all stood hush'd and wondering,

And turn'd and look'd into the air,
As if they thought to see the wing

Of ISRAFIL, the Angel, there;-
So powerfully on every soul
That new, enchanted measure stole.
While now a voice, sweet as the note
Of the charm'd lute, was heard to float

Along its chords, and so entwine

Its sound with theirs, that none knew whether

1 Teflis is celebrated for its natural warm baths.-See Ebn Haukal.

2 "The Indian Syrinda or guitar."-Symes.

3 "Delightful are the flowers of the Amra-trees on the mountain tops, while the murmuring bees pursue their voluptuous toil."-Song of Jayadeva.

4 "The Nisan, or drops of spring rain, which they believe to produce pearls if they fall into shells."-Richardson. 5 For an account of the share which wine had in the fall

of the argels-90e Mariti.

6 The Angel of Music, see note, p. 72.

The voice or lute was most divine,

So wond'rously they went together:

There's a bliss beyond all that the minstrel has told, When two, that are link'd in one heavenly tie, With heart never changing and brow never cold,

Love on through all ills, and love on till they die ! One hour of a passion so sacred is worth

Whole ages of heartless and wandering bliss;
And oh! if there be an Elysium on earth,
It is this, it is this.

'Twas not the air, 'twas not the words,
But that deep magic in the chords
And in the lips, that gave such power
As music knew not till that hour.
At once a hundred voices said,
"It is the mask'd Arabian maid!"
While SELIM, who had felt the strain
Deepest of any, and had lain
Some minutes wrapt, as in a trance,

After the fairy sounds were o'er,
Too inly touch'd for utterance,
Now motion'd with his hand for more:-

Fly to the desert, fly with me,

Our Arab tents are rude for thee;

But oh! the choice what heart can doubt
Of tents with love, or thrones without?
Our rocks are rough, but smiling there
Th' acacia waves her yellow hair,
Lonely and sweet, nor lov'd the less
For flowering in a wilderness.

Our sands are bare, but down their slope
The silvery-footed antelope

As gracefully and gaily springs
As o'er the marble courts of kings.

Then come-thy Arab maid will be
The lov'd and lone acacia-tree,
The antelope, whose feet shall bless
With their light sound thy loneliness.

Oh! there are looks and tones that dart
An instant sunshine through the heart,-
As if the soul that minute caught
Some treasure it through life had sought;

As if the very lips and eyes
Predestin'd to have all our sighs,
And never be forgot again,
Sparkled and spoke before us then!

So came thy every glance and tone,
When first on me they breath'd and shone;
New, as if brought from other spheres,
Yet welcome as if lov'd for years!

Then fly with me,-if thou hast known
No other flame, nor falsely thrown
A gem away, that thou hadst sworn
Should ever in thy heart be worn.
Come, if the love thou hast for me
Is pure and fresh as mine for thee-