"Would sully the bright spot or leave it bare,
"When he might build him a proud temple there,
“A name, that long shall hallow all its space,
"And be each purer soul's high resting-place!
"But no
it cannot be, that one, whom God
"Has sent to break the wizard Falsehood's rod, –
"A Prophet of the Truth, whose mission draws

"Its rights from Heaven, should thus profane his cause ❝ With the world's vulgar pomps;

no, no

I see

"He thinks me weak- this glare of luxury

"Is but to tempt, to try the eaglet gaze

"Of my young soul; -shine 'twill stand the blaze!”

on,

So thought the youth; - but, ev'n while he defied This witching scene, he felt its witchery glide Through every sense. The perfume, breathing round,

Like a pervading spirit; the still sound

Of falling waters, lulling as the song

Of Indian bees at sunset, when they throng
Around the fragrant NILICA, and deep

In its blue blossoms hum themselves to sleep!"

7 My Pandits assure me that the plant before us (the Nilica) is their Sephalica, thus named because the bees are supposed to sleep on its blossoms." Sir W. Jones.

And music too dear music! that can touch
Beyond all else the soul that loves it much-
Now heard far off, so far as but to seem
Like the faint, exquisite music of a dream;
All was too much for him, too full of bliss,
The heart could nothing feel, that felt not this;
Soften'd he sunk upon a couch, and gave

His soul up to sweet thoughts, like wave on wave
Succeeding in smooth seas, when storms are laid; -
He thought of ZELICA, his own dear maid,
And of the time when, full of blissful sighs,
They sat and look'd into each other's eyes,
Silent and happy · - as if God had given
Nought else worth looking at on this side heaven!

"Oh mry lov'd mistress! whose enchantments still "Are with me, round me, wander where I will "It is for thee, for thee alone I seek

"The paths of glory to light up thy cheek

"With warm approval — in that gentle look,

"To read my praise, as in an angel's book,
"And think all toils rewarded, when from thee
"I gain a smile, worth immortality!

"How shall I bear the moment, when restor❜d

"To that young heart where I alone am Lord,

66

Though of such bliss unworthy, since the best "Alone deserve to be the happiest !

"When from those lips, unbreath'd upon for years,

"I shall again kiss off the soul-felt tears,

"And find those tears warm as when last they started, "Those sacred kisses pure as when we parted!

"Oh my own life! why should a single day,

"A moment keep me from those arms away?"

While thus he thinks, still nearer on the breeze
Come those delicious, dream-like harmonies,
Each note of which but adds new, downy links
To the soft chain in which his spirit sinks.
He turns him tow'rd the sound, and, far away
Through a long vista, sparkling with the play

Of countless lamps, like the rich track which Day

Leaves on the waters, when he sinks from us;

So long the path, its light so tremulous ;-
He sees a group of female forms advance,
Some chain'd together in the mazy dance
By fetters, forg'd in the green sunny bowers,
As they were captives to the King of Flowers ;-

And some disporting round, unlink'd and free,
Who seem'd to mock their sisters' slavery,

And round and round them still, in wheeling flight
Went, like gay moths about a lamp at night;
While others wak'd, as gracefully along
Their feet kept time, the very soul of song
From psaltery, pipe, and lutes of heavenly thrill,
Or their own youthful voices, heavenlier still!
And now they come, now pass before his eye,
Forms such as Nature moulds, when she would vie

With Fancy's pencil, and give birth to things

Lovely beyond its fairest picturings!

Awhile they dance before him, then divide,

Breaking, like rosy clouds at even-tide

Around the rich pavilion of the sun,-
Till silently dispersing, one by one,

Through many a path that from the chamber leads
To gardens, terraces, and moonlight meads,
Their distant laughter comes upon the wind,
And but one trembling nymph remains behind,
Beck'ning them back in vain, for they are gone,
And she is left in all that light alone;

No veil to curtain o'er her beauteous brow,

In its young bashfulness more beauteous now;

But a light, golden chain-work round her hair,
Such as the maids of YEZD and SHIRAZ wear,
From which, on either side, gracefully hung
A golden amulet, in the' Arab tongue,
Engraven o'er with some immortal line
From holy writ, or bard scarce less divine;
While her left hand, as shrinkingly she stood,

Held a small lute of gold and sandal-wood,

Which, once or twice, she touch'd with hurried strain,

Then took her trembling fingers off again.

But when at length a timid glance she stole

At Azım, the sweet gravity of soul

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

And, like a half-tam'd antelope, more near,

Though shrinking still, she came; then sat her down

8

Upon a musnud's edge, and, bolder grown,

In the pathetic mode of ISFAHAN 9

Touch'd a preluding strain, and thus began :

8 Musnuds are cushioned seats, usually reserved for persons of distinction.

9 The Persians, like the ancient Greeks, call their musical modes

or Perdas by the names of different countries or cities, as the mode of Isfahan, the mode of Irak, &c.