"How happy," exclaim'd this child of air, "Are the holy spirits that wander there, 'Mid flowers that ne'er shall fade or fall! Though mine are the gardens of earth and sea, And the stars themselves have flowers for me, One blossom of Heav'n out-blooms them all. "Though sunny the lake of cool CASHMERE, How the waters of Heav'n outshine them all. "Go, wing thy flight from star to star, THE TEAR OF REPENTANCE THE BEST OFFERING TO HEAVEN. BUT hark! the vesper call to prayer, As slow the orb of daylight sets, Is rising sweetly on the air, From SYRIA's thousand minarets! The boy has started from his bed Of flowers, where he had laid his head, Kneels with his forehead to the south, From purity's own cherub mouth, And seeking for its home again! Oh, 'twas a sight-that Heaven-that child A scene which might have well beguiled Ev'n haughty Eblis of a sigh For glories lost and peace gone by! And how felt he, the wretched Man Nor brought him back one branch of grace! And hope and feeling, which had slept From boyhood's hour, that instant came Fresh o'er him, and he wept he wept ! Blest tears of soul-felt penitence ! Of guiltless joy that guilt can know. "There's a drop," said the PERI, "that down from the moon Falls through the withering airs of June The precious tears of repentance fall? And hymns of joy proclaim through Heaven 'Twas when the golden orb had set, |