"Thy father IRAN's deadliest foe---
"Thyself, perhaps, ev'n now---but no---
"Hate never look'd so lovely yet!
"No---sacred to thy soul will be
"The land of him who could forget

"All but that bleeding land for thee?
"When other eyes shall see, unmov'd,
"Her widows mourn, her warriors fall,
"Thou'lt think how well one Gheber lov'd,
"And for his sake thou❜lt weep for all!
"But look---"

With sudden start he turn'd

And pointed to the distant wave,
Where lights, like charnel meteors, burn'd
Bluely, as e'er some seaman's grave;
And fiery darts, at intervals,*

Flew up all sparkling from the main,

As if each star, that nightly falls,

Were shooting back to heaven again.

"My signal-lights! I must away—

"Both, both are ruin'd, if I stay.

"Farewell-sweet life! thou cling'st in vain"Now-Vengeance! I am thine again."

"The Mameluks that were in the other boat, when it was dark used to shoot up a sort of fiery arrows into the air, which in some measure resembled lightning or falling stars."---Baumgarten.

Fiercely he broke away, nor stopp'd,
Nor look'd-but from the lattice dropp'd
Down mid the pointed crags beneath,
As if he fled from love to death.

While pale and mute young HINDA stood,
Nor mov'd, till in the silent flood
A momentary plunge below

Startled her from her trance of wo;
Shrieking she to the lattice flew,

"I come-I come-if in that tide "Thou sleep'st to-night-I'll sleep there too, "In death's cold wedlock by thy side. "Oh! I would ask no happier bed

"Than the chill wave my love lies under; "Sweeter to rest together dead,

"Far sweeter, than to live asunder!"
But no-their hour is not yet come-
Again she sees his pinnace fly,
Wafting him fleetly to his home,

Where'er that ill-starr'd home may lie;
And calm and smooth it seem'd to win
Its moon-light way before the wind,
As if it bore all peace within,

Nor left one breaking heart behind!

THE princess, whose heart was sad enough already,

could have wished that FERAMORZ had chosen a less melancholy story; as it is only to the happy that tears are a luxury. Her ladies, however, were by no means sorry that love was once more the poet's theme; for when he spoke of love, they said, his voice was as sweet as if he had chewed the leaves of that enchanted tree, which grows over the tomb of the musician, Tan Sein.

Their road all the morning had lain through a very dreary country; through valleys, covered with a low bushy jungle, where, in more than one place, the awful signal of the bamboo staff, with the white flag at its top, reminded the traveller that in that very spot the tiger had made some human creature his victim. It was therefore with much pleasure that they arrived at sunset in a safe and lovely glen, and encamped under one of those holy trees, whose smooth columns and spreading roofs seem to destine them for natural temples of religion. Beneath the shade, some pious hands had erected pillars ornamented with the most beautiful porcelain, which now supplied the use of mirrors to the young maidens, as they adjusted their hair in de

scending from the palankeens. Here while, as usual, the princess sat listening anxiously, with FADLADEEN in one of his loftiest moods of criticism by her side, the young poet, leaning against a branch of the tree, thus continued his story: