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And now the curtains fly apart, and in
From the cool air, ʼmid showers of jessamine
Which those without fling after them in play,
Two lightsome maidens spring, lightsome as they
Who live in th' air on odours, and around
The bright saloon, scarce conscious of the ground,
Chase one another, in a varying dance
Of mirth and languor, coyness and advance,
Too eloquently like love's warm pursuit ;
While she who sung so gently to the lute
Her dream of home, steals timidly away,
Shrinking as violets do in summer's ray,
But takes with her from Azim's heart that sigh
We sometimes give to forms that pass us by
In the world's crowd, too lovely to remain,
Creatures of light we never see again!

Around the white necks of the nymphs who danced Hung carcanets of orient gems, that glanced More brilliant than the sea-glass glittering o'er The hills of crystal on the Caspian shore; While from their long, dark tresses, in a fall Of curls descending, bells as musical As those that on the golden-shafted trees Of Eden shake in the Eternal Breeze, Rung round their steps, at every bound more sweet, As 'twere th’ ecstatic language of their feet ! At length the chase was o'er, and they stood wreathed Within each other's arms; while soft there breathed Through the cool casement, mingled with the sighs Of moonlight flowers, music that seem'd to rise

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And his floating eyes - oh! they resemble Blue water-lilies, when the breeze

Is making the stream around them tremble !

Hail to thee, hail to thee, kindling power !

Spirit of Love ! Spirit of Bliss !
Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour,

And there never was moonlight so sweet as this.

By the fair and brave,

Who blushing unite,
Like the sun and wave,

When they meet at night !

By the tear that shows

When passion is nigh,
As the rain-drop flows

From the heat of the sky !

By the first love-beat

Of the youthful heart,
By the bliss to meet

And the pain to part !

By all that thou hast

To mortals given,
Which oh! could it last,

This earth were heaven!

We call thee hither, entrancing Power !

Spirit of Love ! Spirit of Bliss !
Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour,

And there never was moonlight so sweet as this.

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Impatient of a

whose luxuries stole, Spite of himself, too deep

into his soul, And where, 'midst all that

the young heart loves

most, Flowers, music, smiles, to

yield was to be lost, The youth hath started up,

and turn'd away From the light nymphs and

their luxurious lay, To muse upon the pictures

that hung round, Bright images, that spoke

without a sound, And views, like vistas into

fairy ground. But here again new spells

came o'er his sense :

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All that the pencil's mute omnipotence
Could call up into life, of soft and fair,
Of fond and passionate, was glowing there;
Nor yet too warm, but touch'd with that fine art
Which paints of pleasure but the purer part;
Which knows e'en Beauty when half veil'd is best,
Like her own radiant planet of the west,
Whose orb when half retired looks loveliest !
There hung the history of the Genii-King,
Traced through each gay, voluptuous wandering
With her from Saba's bowers, in whose bright eyes
He read that to be blest is to be wise ;
Here fond Zuleika wooes with open arms
The Hebrew boy, who flies from her young charms,
Yet, flying, turns to gaze, and, half undone,
Wishes that heaven and she could both be won!
And here Mohammed, born for love and guile,
Forgets the Koran in his Mary's smile;
Then beckons some kind angel from above
With a new text to consecrate their love !

With rapid step, yet pleased and lingering eye, Did the youth pass these pictured stories by, And hasten'd to a casement, where the light Of the calm moon came in, and freshly bright The fields without were seen, sleeping as still As if no life remain’d in breeze or rill. Here paused he, while the music, now less near, Breathed with a holier language on his ear, As though the distance and that heavenly ray Through which the sounds came floating, took away

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