you saw her pale dismay,

Ye wondering sisterhood, and heard the burst
Of explanation from her lips, when first
ohe saw that youth, too well, too dearly known,
Silently kneeling at the Prophet's throne.

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When but to see him, hear him, breathe the air
In which he dwelt, was thy soul's fondest prayer;
When round him hung such a perpetual spell
Whate'er he did, none ever did so well.

Too happy days! when, if he touch'd a flower
Or gem of thine, 'twas sacred from that hour;
When thou didst study him till every tone
And gesture and dear look became thy own,-
Thy voice like his, the changes of his face
In thine reflected with still lovelier grace.
Like echo, sending back sweet music, fraught
With twice the' aërial sweetness it had brought!
Yet now he comes, brighter than even he
E'er beam'd before,— but, ah! not bright for thee;
No-dread, unlook'd for, like a visitant

From the' other world, he comes as if to haunt

Thy guilty soul with dreams of lost delight,
Long lost to all but memory's aching sight:-
Sad dreams! as when the Spirit of our Youth
Returns in sleep, sparkling with all the truth
And innocence once ours, and leads us back,
In mournful mockery, o'er the shining track

Of our young life, and points out every ray
Of hope and peace we've lost upon the way!

Once happy pair!-In proud BокHARA's groves,
Who had not heard of their first youthful loves?
Born by that ancient flood*, which from its spring
In the dark Mountains swiftly wandering,
Enrich'd by every pilgrim brook that shines
With relics from BUCHARIA's ruby mines,
And, lending to the CASPIAN half its strength,
In the cold Lake of Eagles sinks at length; -
There, on the banks of that bright river born,
The flowers, that hung above its wave at morn,
Bless'd not the waters, as they murmur'd by,
With holier scent and lustre, than the sigh
And virgin-glance of first affection cast

Upon their youth's smooth current, as it pass'd!
But war disturb'd this vision,- far away

From her fond eyes summon'd to join the' array

* The Amoo, which rises in the Belur Tag, or Dark Mountains, and running nearly from east to west, splits into two branches; one of which falls into the Caspian sea, and the other into Aral Nahr, or the Lake of Eagles.

Of PERSIA'S warriors on the hills of THRACE,
The youth exchang'd his sylvan dwelling-place
For the rude tent and war-field's deathful clash;
His ZELICA's sweet glances for the flash

Of Grecian wild-fire, and Love's gentle chains
For bleeding bondage on BYZANTIUM's plains.

Month after month, in widowhood of soul Drooping, the maiden saw two summers roll Their suns away-but, ah! how cold and dim Even summer suns, when not beheld with him! From time to time ill-omen'd rumours came, Like spirit-tongues mutt'ring the sick man's name, Just ere he dies:-at length those sounds of dread Fell with'ring on her soul," AZIM is dead!" Oh Grief, beyond all other griefs, when fate First leaves the young heart lone and desolate In the wide world, without that only tie For which it lov'd to live or fear'd to die;Lorn as the hung-up lute, that ne'er hath spoken Since the sad day its master-chord was broken!