never dared to tell her, the most exquisite moments of her whole life were passed. One evening, when they had been talking of the Sultana Nourmahal,-the Light of the Haram,* who had so often wandered among these flowers, and fed with her own hands, in those marble basins, the small shining fishes of which she was so fond, † -the youth, in order to delay the moment of separation, proposed to recite a short story, or rather rhapsody, of which this adored Sultana was the heroine. It related, he said, to the reconcilement of a sort of lovers' quarrel, which took place between her and the Emperor during a Feast of Roses at Cashmere; and would remind the Princess of that difference between Harounal-Raschid and his fair mistress Marida, which was so happily made up by the soft strains of the musician, Moussali. As the story was chiefly to be told in song, and FERAMORZ had unluckily forgotten his own lute in the valley, he borrowed the vina of LALLA ROOKH's little Persian slave, and thus began:

Nourmahal signifies Light of the Haram. She was afterwards called Nourjehan, or the Light of the World.

+ See note, p. 230.

THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM.

WHO has not heard of the Vale of CASHMERE,

With its roses, the brightest that earth ever gave, * Its temples, and grottos, and fountains as clear

As the love-lighted eyes that hang over their wave?

Oh! to see it at sunset,-when warm o'er the Lake
Its splendour at parting a summer eve throws,
Like a bride full of blushes, when lingering to take

A last look of her mirror at night ere she goes!When the shrines through the foliage are gleaming half shown,

And each hallows the hour by some rites of its own. Here the music of prayer from a minaret swells,

Here the Magian his urn full of perfume is swinging, And here, at the altar, a zone of sweet bells

Round the waist of some fair Indian dancer is ringing.†

* "The rose of Kashmire, for its brilliancy and delicacy of odour, has long been proverbial in the East."-FORSTER.

+"Tied round her waist the zone of bells, that sounded with ravishing melody.”—Song of Jayadeva.

Or to see it by moonlight,-when mellowly shines
The light o'er its palaces, gardens, and shrines;
When the water-falls gleam like a quick fall of stars,
And the nightingale's hymn from the Isle of Chenars
Is broken by laughs and light echoes of feet
From the cool, shining walks where the young people

meet:

Or at morn, when the magic of daylight awakes
A new wonder each minute, as slowly it breaks,
Hills, cupolas, fountains, call'd forth every one
Out of darkness, as they were just born of the Sun,—
When the Spirit of Fragrance is up with the day,
From his Haram of night-flowers stealing away;
And the wind, full of wantonness, woos like a lover,
The young aspen-trees till they tremble all over.-
When the East is as warm as the light of first hopes,

And Day with his banner of radiance unfurl'd, Shines in through the mountainous † portal that opes, Sublime, from that Valley of bliss to the world!

"The little isles in the Lake of Cachemire are set with arbours and large-leaved aspen-trees, slender and tall.”—Ber

NIER.

"The Tuct Suliman, the name bestowed by the Mahometans on this hill, forms one side of a grand portal to the Lake."-FORSTER.

But never yet, by night or day,
In dew of spring or summer's ray,
Did the sweet Valley shine so gay
As now it shines-all love and light,
Visions by day and feasts by night!
A happier smile illumes each brow,
With quicker spread each heart uncloses,
And all is ecstasy,-for now

The Valley holds its Feast of Roses. *
That joyous time, when pleasures pour
Profusely round, and in their shower
Hearts open, like the Season's Rose,-
The Flowret of a hundred leaves, †
Expanding while the dew-fall flows,
And every leaf its balm receives!
'Twas when the hour of evening came
Upon the Lake, serene and cool,
When Day had hid his sultry flame
Behind the palms of BARAMOULE:S

"The Feast of Roses continues the whole time of their

remaining in bloom."-See PIETRO DE LA VALLE.

+ "Gul sad berk, the Rose of a hundred leaves. I believe

a particular species."-OUSELEY.

§ Bernier.

When maids began to lift their heads,
Refresh'd, from their embroider'd beds,
Where they had slept the sun away,
And waked to moonlight and to play.
All were abroad-the busiest hive
On BELA's hills is less alive

When saffron beds are full in flower,
Than look'd the Valley in that hour.
A thousand restless torches play'd
Through every grove and island shade;
A thousand sparkling lamps were set
every dome and minaret;

On

And fields and pathways, far and near,
Were lighted by a blaze so clear,
That you could see, in wandering round,
The smallest rose-leaf on the ground.
Yet did the maids and matrons leave
Their veils at home, that brillant eve ;
And there were glancing eyes about,

And cheeks, that would not dare shine out

* A place mentioned in the Toozek Jehangeery, or Memoirs of Jehanguire, where there is an account of the beds of saffron flowers about Cashmere.