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Beneath that fresh and springing bower,

Close by the lake, she heard the moan

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Forgets the Koran in his Mary's smile;

And as she listen'd to the springs Then beckons some kind angel from above

Of life within, like music tlowing, With a new text to consecrate their love!

And caught the light upon her wings

Through the half-open portal glowing,

She wept to think her recreant race

Should e'er have lost that glorious place!
Now comes the brunt, the crisis of the day, [way!
They claslı—they strive-the Caliph's troops give “ How happy," exclaim'd this child of air,
Mokanna's self plucks the black banner down, “ Are the holy spirits who wander there,
And now the Orient World's imperial crown

Mid flowers that never shall fade or fall;
Is just within his grasp—when, hark, that shout!

Though mine are the gardens of earth and sea, Some hand hath check'd the flying Moslems' rout,

And the stars themselves bave flowers for me,
And now they turn—they rally-at their head

One blossom of Heaven out-blooms them all!
A warrior (like those angel youths, who led,
In glorious panoply of heav'n's own mail,

Though sunny the lake of cool Cashmere,
The Champions of the Faith through Beder's vale)

With its plane-tree isle reflected clear, Bold as if gifted with ten thousand lives,

And sweetly the founts of that valley fall; Turns on the fierce pursuers' blades, and drives

Though bright are the waters of Sing-su-hay, At once the multitudinous torrent back,

And the golden floods, that thitherward stray, While hope and courage kindle in his track,

Yet---oh 'tis only the blest can say
And, at each step, his bloody falchion makes

How the waters of heaven outshine them all!
Terrible vistas through which victory breaks!
In vain Mokanna, midst the general flight,

“ Go, wing thy flight from star to star, Stands, like the red moon, on some stormy night,

From world to luminous world, as far Among the fugitive clouds that, hurrying by,

As the universe spreads its flaming wall; Leave only her unshaken in the sky!

Take all the pleasures of all the spheres, In vain he yells his desperate curses out,

And multiply each through endless years,

One minute of Heaven is worth them all!”.
Deals death promiscuously to all about,
To foes that charge and coward friends that fly,

The glorious angel, who was keeping
And seems of all the Great Arch-enemy!

The gates of light, bebeld her weeping; The panic spreads—“ a miracle!" throughout

And, as he nearer drew and listen'd The Moslem ranks, " a miracle!" they shout,

To her sad song, a tear-drop glisten'd All gazing on that youth, whose coming seems

Within his eyelids, like the spray A light, a glory, such as breaks in dreams;

From Eden's fountain, when it lies And every sword, true as o'er billows dim

On the blue flow'r, which---Bramins say--The needle tracks the load-star, following him!

Blooms no where but in Paradise ! Right tow'rds Mokanna now he cleaves his path,

Nymph of a fair, but erring line!” Impatient cleaves, as though the bolt of wrath

Gently he said---“ One hope is thine. He bears from Heav'n withheld its awful burst

'Tis written in the book of fate, From weaker heads, and souls but half-way curst,

• The Peri yet may be forgiven To break o'er him, the mightiest and the worst!

Who brings to this eternal gate But vain his speed---though, in that hour of blood,

The gift that is most dear to Heaven!' Had all God's seraphs round Mokanna stood,

Go, seek it, and redeem thy sin ;---
With swords of fire, ready like fate to fall,

'Tis sweet to let the pardon'd in!"
Mokanna's soul would have defied them all ;---
Yet now, the rush of fugitives, too strong
For human force, hurries ev'n him along;
In vain he struggles mid the wedg’d array
Of flying thousands,---he is borne away;
And the sole joy his baffled spirit knows
In this forc'd fight is---murdering, as he goes!
As a grim tiger, whom the torrent's miglit
Surprizes in some parch'd ravine at night,
Turns, ev'n in drowning, on the wretched flocks
Swept with him in that snow-flood from the rocks,
And, to the last, devouring on his way,
Bloodies the stream he hath not power to stay!

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Rapidly as comets run
To th' embraces of the sun :---
Fleeter than the starry brands,
Flung at night from angel hands
At those dark and daring sprites,
Who would climb th’empyreal heights,
Down the blue vault the Peri flies,

And, lighted earthward by a glance
That just then broke from morning's eyes,
Hung hovering o'er our world's

Just then beneath some orange trees,
Whose fruit and blossoms in the breeze
Were wantoning together, free,
Like age at play with infancy--

THE PERI. One morn a Peri at the gate Of Eden stood, disconsolate;

The one,

Of one who, at this silent hour,

Nay, turn not from me that dear face... Had thither stol'n to die alone:

Am I not thine---thy own lov'd bride--One who in life, where'er he mov'd,

the chosen one, whose place Drew after him the hearts of many;

In life or death is by thy side? Yet now, as though he ne'er were lov’d,

Think'st thou that she, whose only light, Dies here, unseen, unwept by any!

In this dim world, from thee hath shone, None to watch near him---none to slake

Could bear the long, the cheerless night, The fire that in his bosom lies,

That must be hers, when thou art gone? With ev'o a sprinkle from that lake,

That I can live, and let thee go,
Which shines so cool before his eyes.

Who art my life itself?---No, no---
No voice, well-known through many a day, When the stem dies, the leaf that grew
To speak the last, the parting word,

Out of its heart must perish too!
Which, when all other sounds decay,

Then turn to me, my own love, turn, Is still like distant music heard:

Before like thee I fade and burn; That tender farewell on the shore

Cling to these yet cool lips, and share Of this rude world, when all is o'er,

The last pure life that lingers there !" Which cheers the spirit, ere its bark

She fails---she sinks---as dies the lamp Puts off into the unknown dark.

In charnel airs or cavern-damp,

So quickly do his baleful sighs Deserted youth! one thought alone

Quench all the sweet light of her eyes! Shed joy around his soul in death--

One struggle---and his pain is past--That she, whom he for years had known,

Her lover is no longer living! 5. And lov’d, and might have call'd his own,

One kiss the maiden gives, one last, Was safe from this foul midnight's breath ;--- Long kiss, which she expires in giving! 1. Safe in her father's princely halls, i Where the cool airs from fountain-falls,

“ Sleep," said the Peri, as softly she stole Freshly perfum’d by many a brand

The farewell sigh of that vanishing soul, Of the sweet wood from India's land,

As true as e'er warm'd a woman's breast--

“ Sleep on, in visions of odour rest, Were pure as she whose brow they fann'd.

In balmier airs than ever yet stirr'd

Th'enchanted pile of that lonely bird, But see,---who yonder comes by stealth,

Who sings at the last his own death lay, This melancholy bower to seek,

And in music and perfume dies away!”. - Like a young envoy, sent by health, With rosy gifts upon her cheek?

Thus saying, from her lips she spread 'Tis she---far off, through moonlight dim,

Unearthly breathings through the place, He knew his own betrothed bride,

And shook her sparkling wreath, and shed She, who would rather die with him,

Such Justre o'er each paly face, Than live to gain the world beside!-

That like two lovely saints they seemd Her arms are round her lover now,

Upon the eve of dooms-clay taken His livid cheek to hers she presses,

From their dim graves, in odour sleeping ;--And dips, to bind his burning brow,

While that benevolent Peri beam'd In the cool lake her loosen'd tresses.

Like their good angel, calmly keeping Ah! once, how little did he think

Watch o'er them, till their souls would waken! An hour would come, when he should shrink

But morn is blushing in the sky; With horror from that dear embrace,

Again the Peri soars above, Those gentle arms, that were to him

Bearing to Heav’n that precious sigh
Holy as is the cradling place

Of pure, self-sacrificing love.
Of Eden's infant cherubim !
And now he yields--- now turns away,

High throbb'd her heart, with hope elate,

The Elysian palm she soon shall win,
Shuddering as if the venom lay

For the bright Spirit at the gate
All in those proffer'd lips alone---
Those lips that, then so fearless grown,

Smil'd as she gave that offering in;
Never until that instant came

And she already hears the trees

Of Eden, with their crystal bells Near his unask'd or without shame.

Ringing in that ambrosial breeze “ Oh! let me only breathe the air,

That from the throne of Alla swells;
The blessed air, that's breath'd by thee,

And she can see the starry bowls
And, whether on its wings it bear

That lie around that lucid lake,
Healing or death, 'tis sweet to me!
There----drink my tears, while yet they fall,---

Upon whose banks admitted souls

Their first sweet draught of glory take!
Would that my bosom's blood were balm,
And, well thou know'st, I'd shed it all,

But ah! ev'n Peri's hopes are vain---
To give thy brow one minute's calm.

Again the Fates forbade, again

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Oh 'twas a sight---that Heav'n---that child-
A scene, which might have well beguild

For glories lost and peace gone by!

Th' immortal barrier clos'd---" not yet,"

Cheer'd by this hope she bends her thither ;--The angel said as, with regret,

Still laughs the radiant eye of Heaven, He shut from her that glimpse of glory--

Nor have the golden bowers of even “ True was the maiden, and her story,

In the rich west begun to wither;--Written in light o'er Alla's head,

When, o'er the vale of Balbec winging By seraph eyes shall long be read.

Slowly, she sees a child at play, But, Peri, see---the crystal bar

Among the rosy wild-flowers singing, Of Eden moves not---holier far


and as wild as they; Than ev’n this sigh the boon must be

Chasing, with eager hands and eyes,
That opes

gates of Heav'n for thee."

The beautiful blue damsel-flies,

That flutter'd round the jasmine stems,
Now, upon Syria's land of roses
Softly the light of eve reposes,

Like winged flowers or flying gems :---
And, like a glory, the broad sun

And, near the boy, who tir’d with play

Now nestling mid the roses lay, Hangs over sainted Lebanon ;

She saw a wearied man dismount Whose head in wintry grandeur towers,

From his hot steed, and on the brink And whitens with eternal sleet,

Of a small imaret's rustic fount While summer, in a vale of flowers,

Impatient fling him down to drink. Is sleeping rosy at his feet.

Then swift his haggard brow he turn'd To one, who look'd from upper air

To the fair child, who fearless sat, O'er all the enchanted regions there,

Though never yet hath day-beam burn'd How beauteous must have been the glow,

Upon a brow more fierce than that,--The life, the sparkling from below!

Sullenly fierce---a mixture dire, Fair gardens, shining streams, with ranks

Like thunder-clouds, of gloom and fire! Of golden melons on their banks,

In which the Peri's eye could read More golden where the sun-light falls;--

Dark tales of many a ruthless deed; Gay lizards, glittering on the walls

The ruin'd maid---the shrine profan'd--Of ruin'd shrines, busy and bright

Oaths broken---and the threshold stain'd As they were all alive with light;--

With blood of guests !---there written, all, And, yet more splendid, numerous flocks

Black as the damning drops that fall

From the denouncing angel's pen,
Of pigeons, settling on the rocks,
With their rich restless wings, that gleam

Ere Mercy weeps them out again!
Variously in the crimson beam

Yet tranquil now that man of crime, Of the warm west,---as if inlaid

(As if the balmy evening time With brilliants from the mine, or made

Soften’d his spirit,) look'd and lay, Of tearless rainbows, such as span

Watching the rosy infant's play:-The' unclouded skies of Peristan!

Though still, whene'er his eye by chance And then, the mingling sounds that come,

Fell on the boy's, its lurid glance Of shepherd's ancient reed, with hum

Met that unclouded, joyous gaze,
Of the wild bees of Palestine,

As torches, that have burnt all night
Banquetting through the flowery vales ;---
And, Jordan, those sweet banks of thine,

And woods, so full of nightingales!
But nought can charm the luckless Peri;
Her soul is sad---her wings are weary---
Joyless she sees the sun look down
On that great temple, once his own,
Whose lonely columns stand sublime,

Flinging their shadows from on high,
Like dials, which the wizard Time

Had rais'd to count his ages by!
Yet haply there may lie conceald,

Beneath those chambers of the sun,
Some amulet of gems, anneal'd
In upper fires, some tablet seal'd

With the great name of Solomon,
Which, spell’d by her illumin'd eyes,
May teach her where, beneath the moon,
In earth or ocean lies the boon,
The charm, that can restore so soon

An erring spirit to the skies!

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Through some impure and godless rite,

Encounter morning's glorious rays.
But hark! the vesper-call to prayer,

As slow the orb of day-light sets,
Is rising sweetly on the air,

From Syria's thousand minarets!
The boy has started from the bed
Of flowers, where he had laid his bead,
And down upon the fragrant sod

Kneels, with his forehead to the south,
Lisping th' eternal name of God

From purity's own cherub-mouth,
And looking, while his hands and eyes
Are listed to the glowing skies,
Like a stray babe of Paradise,
Just lighted on that flowery plain,
And seeking for its home again!

Ev'n haughty Eblis of a sigh

And how felt he, the wretched man

To the lote-tree, springing by Alla's throne,
Reclining there---while memory ran

Whose flowers have a soul in every leaf!
O'er many a year of guilt and strife;

Joy, joy for ever!-my task is done
Flew o'er the dark flood of his life,

The gates are pass'd, and Heav'n is won!"
Nor found one sunny resting-place,
Nor brought him back one branch of grace!
“ There was a time,” he said in mild,

Heart-humbled tones--," thou blessed child!

When young and haply pure as thou,

There stood—but one short league away
I look'd and pray'd like thee---but now---"

From old Harmozia's sultry bay~
He hung his head---each nobler aim

A rocky mountain, o'er the sea
And hope and feeling, which had slept

Of Oman beetling awfully;
From boyhood's hour, that instant came

A last and solitary link
Fresh o'er him, and he wept---he wept!

Of those stupendous chains that reach
Blest tears of soul-felt penitence!

From the broad Caspian's reedy brink
In whose benign, redeeming flow

Down winding to the green sea-beach.
Is felt the first, the only sense

Around its base the bare rocks stood,
Of guiltless joy that guilt can know.

Like naked giants, in the flood,

As if to guard the gulf across;
“ There's a drop,” said the Peri, “that down from

While, on its peak, that brav'd the sky,
Falls through the withering airs of June (the moon

A ruin'd temple tower'd, so high
Upon Egypt's land, of so healing a power,

That oft the sleeping albatross
So balmy a virtue, that ev’n in the hour

Struck the wild ruins with her wing,
That drop descends, contagion dies,

And from her cloud-rock'd slumbering
And health reanimates earth and skies !---

Started—to find man's dwelling there
Oh, is it not thus, thou man of sin,

In her own silent fields of air!
The precious tears of repentance fall ?

Beneath, terrific caverus gave
Though foul thy fiery plagues within,

Dark welcome to each stormy wave
One heavenly drop hath dispell’d them all!"

That dash'd, like midnight revellers, in ;-
And now---behold him kneeling there

And such the strange, mysterious din
By the child's side, in humble prayer,

At times throughout those caverns rollid,
While the same sun-beam shines upon

And such the fearful wonders told
The guilty and the guiltless one,

Of restless sprites imprison'd there,
And hymns of joy proclaim through Heaven

That bold were Moslem, who would dare,
The triumph of a soul forgiven!

At twilight hour, to steer his skiff
'Twas when the golden orb had set,

Beneath the Gheber's lonely cliff.
While on their knees they linger'd yet,

On the land side, those towers sublime,
There fell a light, more lovely far

That seem'd above the grasp of time,
Than ever came from sun or star,

Were sever'd from the baunts of men
Upon the tear that, warm and meek,

By a wide, deep, and wizard glen,
Dew'd that repentant sinner's cheek:

So fathomless, so full of gloom,
To mortal eye this light might seem

No eye could pierce the void between;
A northern flash or meteor beam---

It seem'd a place where Gholes might come
But well the' enraptured Peri knew,

With their foul banquets from the tomb,
'Twas a bright smile the angel threw

And in its caverns feed unseen.
From Heaven's gate, to hail that tear

Like distant thunder from below,
Her harbinger of glory near!

The sound of many torrents came;
“ Joy, joy for ever! my task is done---

Too deep for eye or ear to know
The gates are pass'd, and Heaven is won !

If'twere the sea's imprison'd flow,
Oh! am I not happy? I am, I am---

Or floods of ever-restless flame.
To thee, sweet Eden! how dark and sad

For each ravine, each rocky spire
Are the diamond turrets of Shadukiam,

Of that vast mountain stood on fire;
And the fragrant bowers of Amberabad!

And, though for ever past the days,

When God was worshipp'd in the blaze
“ Farewel, ye odours of earth, that die,

That from its lofty altar shone,
Passing away like a lover's sigh ;---

Though fled the priests, the votaries gone,
My feast is now of the tooba tree,

Still did the mighty flame burn on
Whose scent is the breath of eternity!

Through chance and change, through good and ill,

Like its own God's eternal will,
“ Farewel ye vanishing flowers, that shone,
In my fairy wreath, so bright and brief,---

Deep, constant, bright, unquenchable!
Oh! what are the brightest that e'er have blown,

Thither the vanquish'd Hafed led

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His little army's last remains ;

And though so wild and desolate “ Welcome, terrific glen!” he said,

Those courts, where once the mighty sate; • Thy gloom, that Eblis' self might dread,

Nor longer on those mouldering towers Is Heav'n to him who fies from chains!”

Was seen the feast of fruits and flowers, O'er a dark, narrow bridge-way, known

With which of old the Magi fed To him and to his chiefs alone,

The wandering spirits of their dead; They cross'd the chasm, and gain'd the towers ; Though neither priest nor rites were there, “ This home," he cried, « at least is ours

Nor charmed leaf of pure pomegranate; Here we may bleed, unmock'd by hymns

Nor hymn, nor censer's fragrant air, Of Moslem triumph o'er our head;

Nor symbol of their worshipp'd planet; Here we may fall, nor leave our limbs

Yet the same God that heard their sires To quiver to the Moslem's tread.

Heard them, while on that altar's fires Stretch'd on this rock, while vultures' beaks

They swore the latest, holiest deed Are whetted on our yet warm cheeks,

Of the few hearts, still left to bleed, Here,,happy that no tyrant's eye

Should be, in Iran's injured name, Gloats on our torments--we may die!"

To die upon that Mount of Flame

The last of all her patriot line,
'Twas night when to those towers they came, Before her last untrampled shrine!
And gloomily the fitful flame,
That from the ruin'd altar broke,
Glar'd on his features, as he spoke:-

“ "Tis o'er-what men could do, we've done
If Iran will look tamely on,
And see her priests, her warriors driven

Air-Maid of the Valley,
Before a sensual bigot's nod,

Go where glory waits thee; A wretch, who takes his lusts to heaven,

But, while fame elates thee, And makes a pander of his God!

Oh! still remember me. If her proud sons, her high-born souls,

When the praise thou meetest Men in whose veins-oh last disgrace!

To thine ear is sweetest, The blood of Zal and Rustam rolls,

Oh! then remember me. If they will court this upstart race,

Other arms may press thee, And turn from Mithra's ancient ray,

Dearer friends caress thee, To kneel at shrines of yesterday!

All the joys that bless thee If they will crouch to Iran's foes,

Sweeter far may be; Why, let them-till the land's despair

But when friends are nearest, Cries out to heav'n, and bondage grows

And when joys are dearest,
Too vile for ev'n the vile to bear!

Oh! then remember me.
Till shame at last, long hidden, burns
Their inmost core, and conscience turns

When, at eve, thou rovest
Each coward tear the slave lets fall

By the star thou lovest,
Back on his heart in drops of gall!

Oh! then remember me.
But here, at least, are arms unchain'd,
And souls that thraldom never stain'd;-

This spot, at least, no foot of slave
Or satrap ever yet profan’d;
And, thouglı but few—though fast the wave

When thine eye reposes
Of life is ebbing from our veins,
Enough for vengeance still remains.
As panthers, after set of sun,
Rush from the roots of Lebanon
Across the dark sea-robber's way,
We'll bound upon our startled prey ;-
And when some hearts that proudest swell
Have felt our falchion's last farewell;
When hope's expiring throb is o'er,
And ev'n despair can prompt no more,
This spot shall be the sacred grave
Of the last few who, vainly brave,
Die for the land they cannot save!"

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Think, when home returning,
Bright we've seen burning,

Oh! then remember me.
Oft, as summer closes,

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On its ling’ring roses,

Once so loved by thee:
Think of her who wove them,
Her who made thee love them;

Oh! then remember me.

When, around thee, dying,
Autumn leaves are lying,

Oh! then remember me.
And, at night, when gazing
On the gay hearth blazing,

Oh! still remember me.
Then should music, stealing
All the soul of feeling,
To thy heart appealing,

Draw one tear from thee;

His chiefs stood round-each shining blade
Upon the broken altar laid-

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