"Here,-happy that no tyrant's eye

"Gloats on our torments, we may die!"

'Twas night when to those towers they came; And gloomily the fitful flame,

That from the ruin'd altar broke,

Glar'd on his features, as he spoke :

"'Tis o'er-what men could do, we've done;

"If IRAN will look tamely on,

"And see her priests, her warriors driven "Before a sensual bigot's nod,

"A wretch, who takes his lusts to heaven, "And makes a pander of his god!

"If her proud sons, her high born souls,

'Men, in whose veins-oh last disgrace! "The blood of ZAL and RUSTAM* rolls,"If they will court this upstart race, 44 And turn from MITHRA's ancient ray, "To kneel at shrines of yesterday! "If they will crouch to IRAN's foes,

"Why, let them-till the land's despair "Cries out to heav'n, and bondage grows "Too vile for ev'n the vile to bear! "Till shame at last, long hidden, burns "Their inmost core, and conscience turns "Each coward tear the slave lets fall "Back on his heart in drops of gall! "But here, at least, are arms unchain'd, "And souls that thraldom never stain'd;

*Ancient heroes of Persia. "Among the Ghebers there are some who boast their descent from Rustam."

Stephen's Persia.

"This spot, at least, no foot of slave "Or satrap ever yet profan'd;

And, though but few-though fast the wave "Of life is ebbing from our veins,

Enough for vengeance still remains.

As panthers, after set of sun,

"Rush from the roots of Lebanon
"Across the dark sea-robber's ways,*

"We'll bound upon our startled prey;→→

"And when some hearts that proudest swell
"Have felt our falchion's last farewell;

"When hope's expiring throb is o'er,
"And ev'n despair can prompt no more,
"This spot shall be the sacred grave
Of the last few, who vainly brave,
"Die for the land they cannot save!"
His chiefs stood round-each shining blade
Upon the broken altar laid-

And though so wild and desolate

Those courts where once the mighty sate;
Nor longer on those mouldering towers
Was seen the feast of fruits and flowers,
With which of old the Magi fed

The wandering spirits of the Dead ;t
Though neither priests nor rights were there

*V. Russel's account of the panthers attacking travellers in the night on the sea-shore about the roots of Lebanon.

"Among other ceremonies, the Magi used to place upon the tops of high towers various kinds of rich viands, upon which it was supposed the Peris and the spirits of their departed heroes regaled themselves."Richardson.

Nor charmed leaf of pure pomegranate, f
Nor hymn, nor censer's fragrant air,

Nor symbol of their worshipp'd planet;‡
Yet the same God that heard their sires
Heard them; while on that altar's fires
They swore the latest holiest deed
Of the few hearts still left to bleed,
Should be, in IRAN's injur'd name,
To die upon that mount of flame--
The last of all her patriot line,
Before her last untrampled shrine!

Brave, suffering souls! they little knew
How many a tear their injuries drew
From one meek maid, one gentle foe,
Whom love first touch'd with others' woe-
Whose life, as free from thought as sin,
Slept like a lake, till love threw in
His talisman, and woke the tide,
And spread its trembling circles wide,
Once, EMIR! thy unheeding child,
Mid all this havoc, bloom'd and smil'd,-

In the ceremonies of the Ghebers round their fire, as described by Lord, "the Daroo," he says, ̧ 66 giveth them water to drink, and a pomegranate leaf to chew in the mouth, to cleanse them from inward uncleanness."

"Early in the morning, they [the Parsees or Ghebers at Oulam] go in crowds to pay their devotions to the sun, to whom upon all the altars there are spheres consecrated, made by magic resembling the circles of the sun, and when the sun rises, these orbs seem to be inflamed, and to turn round with a great noise. They have every one a censer in their hands, and offer incense to the sun."---Rabbi Benjamin.

Tranquil as on some battle-plain
The Persian lily shines and towers,
Before the combat's reddening stain
Hath fall'n upon her golden flowers.
Light-hearted maid, unaw'd, usmov'd,
While heav'n but spar'd the sire she lov'd,
Once at thy evening tales of blo od
Unlistening and aloof she stood-
And oft when thou hast pac'd along

Thy Haram halls with furious heat,
Hast thou not curs'd her cheerful song,
That came across thee, calm and sweet,
Like lutes of angels, touch'd so near
Hell's confines, that the damn'd can hear?
Far other feelings love hath brought-

Her soul all flame, her brow all sadness,
She now has but the one dear thought,
And thinks that o'er, almost to madness!
Oft doth her sinking heart recall
His words" for my sake weep for all;"
And bitterly, as day on day

Of rebel carnage fast succeeds,
She weeps a lover snatch'd away
In every Gheber wretch that bleeds.
There's not a sabre meets her eye,

But with his life-blood seems to swim
There's not an arrow wings the sky,
But fancy turns its point to him.
No more she brings with footstep light
AL HASSAN'S falchion for the fight;
And, had he look'd with clearer sight,
Had not the mists, that ever rise
From a foul spirit, dimm'd his eyes

He would have mark'd her shuddering frame,
When from the field of blood he came,
The faltering speech-the look estrang'd-
Voice, step, and life, and beauty chang'd—
He would have mark'd all this, and known,
Such change is wrought by love, alone!

Ah! not the love, that should have bless'd
So young, so innocent a breast; **
Not the pure, open, prosperous love,
That, pledg'd on earth and seal'd above,
Grows on the world's approving eyes,
In friendship's smile and home's caress,
Collecting all the heart's sweet ties
Into one knot of happiness!
No, HINDA, no-thy fatal flame
Is nurs'd in silence, sorrow, shame.

A passion, without hope or pleasure,
In thy soul's darkness buried deep,
It lies like some ill-gotten treasure,-
Some idol, without shrine or name,
O'er which its pale ey'd votaries keep
Unholy watch while others sleep!

Seven nights have darken'd OMAN's sea,
Since, last, beneath the moonlight ray,
She saw his light oar rapidly

Hurry her Gheber's bark away,

And still she goes at midnight hour,
To weep alone in that high bower,

And watch, and look along the deep
For him whose smiles first made her weep,
But watching, weeping, all was vain,
She never saw his bark again.