"While the wrong'd Spirit of our land

"Lived, look'd, and spoke her wrongs through thee,

"God! who could then this sword withstand?

"Its very flash were victory!

"But now-estranged, divorced forever,
"Far as the grasp of Fate can sever;
"Our only ties what love has wove,-

"In faith, friends, country, sunder'd wide;
And then, then only, true to love,
"When false to all that's dear beside!
"Thy father IRAN's deadliest foe-
"Thyself, perhaps, even 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, unmoved,

"Her widows mourn, her warriors fall, "Thou'lt think how well one Gheber loved, "And for his sake thou'lt weep for all! "But look

46

With sudden start he turn'd, And pointed to the distant wave, Where lights, like charnel meteors, burn'd Bluely, as o'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!"
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 moved, 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--the hour is not yet comeAgain she sees his pinnace fly, Wafting hi fleetly to his home,

Where'er that ill-starr'd home may lie; And calm and smooth it seem'd to win Its moonlight 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 Borry that love was once more the Poet's theme; for, whenever 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, TanSeia.t

Their road all the morning had lain through a very dreary country;-through valleys, covered with a low bashy jungle, where, in more than one place, the awful

"The lamelukes that were in the other boat, when it was dark, ted to shoot up a sort of fiery nrrows into the air, which in some pere embled lie ung or falling stars."-Baumgarten. Within te enclosure which surrounds this montiment (at Gualior) email form to the memory of Tan Sein, a musician of incomparable Mill, who fcurished at the court of Akbar. The tomb is overshadowed tree, concerning which a superstitions notion prevails, that the was of its leaves will give an extraordinary melody to the voice "Narraties of a Journey from Agra to Ouzein, by W. Hunter, Esq.

signal of the bamboo-staff*, with the white flag at its top, reminding 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 this spacious shade, some pious hands had erected a row of pillars ornamented with the most beautiful porcelaint, which now supplied the use of mirrors to the young maidens, as they adjusted their hair in descending 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 continu. ed his story:

THE morn hath risen clear and calm,

And o'er the Green Sea! palely shines,
Revealing BAHREIN's groves of palm,
And lighting KISHIMA's amber vines.
Fresh smell the shores of ARABY,
While breezes from the Indian Sea
Blow round SELAMA's§ sainted cape,

And curl the shining flood beneath,—
Whose waves are rich with many a grape,
And cocoa-nut and flow'ry wreath,
Which pious seamen, as they pass'd,
Had tow'rd that holy headland cast
Oblations to the Genii there
For gentle skies and breezes fair!
The nightingale now bends her flight
From the high trees, where all the night

She sung so sweet, with none to listen;
And hides her from the morning star

Where thickets of pomegranate glisten In the clear dawn,-bespangled o'er With dew, whose night-drops would not staia The best and brightest scimitar** That ever youthful Sultan wore

On the first morning of his reign.

And see-the Sun himself!-on wings
Of glory up the East he springs.
Angel of Light! who from the time
Those heavens began their march sublime,
Hath first of all the starry choir
Trod in his Maker's steps of fire!

Where are the days, thou wondrous sphere,
When IRAN, like a sun-flow'r, turn'd
To meet that eye where'er it burn'd?—
When, from the banks of BENDEMEER
To the nut-groves of SAMARCAND,
Thy temples flamed o'er all the land?
Where are they? ask the shades of them
Who on CADESSIA'S†+ bloody plains.
Saw fierce invaders pluck the gem
From IRAN's broken diadem,

And bind her ancient faith in chains :Ask the poor exile, cast alone

On foreign shores, unloved, unknown,

Islands in the Gulf.

3

fer

Is IRAN's pride then gone forever,

Quench'd with the flame in MITHIRA's caves ?No-she has sons, that never-never

Will stoop to be the Moslem's slaves,

While heav'n has light or earth has graves;-
Spirits of fire, that brood not long,
But flash resentment back for wrong;
And hearts where, slow but deep, the seeds
Of vengeance ripen into deeds,

Till, in some treach'rous hour of calm,
They burst, like ZEILAN'S giant palm,t
Whose buds fly open with a sound
That shakes the pigmy forests round!
Yes, EMIR! he, who scaled that tow'r,
And, had he reach'd thy slumb'ring breast,
Had taught thee, in a Gheber's pow'r

How safe ev'n tyrant heads may rest-
Is one of many, brave as he,

Who loathe thy haughty race and thee;
Who, though they know the strife is vain,
Who, though they know the riven chain
Snaps but to enter in the heart
Of him who rends its links apart,
Yet dare the issue, blest to be

Ev'n for one bleeding moment free,

And die in pangs of liberty!

Thou know'st them well-'tis some moons since Thy turban'd troops and blood-red flags,

Thou satrap of a bigot Prince,

Have swarm'd among these Green Sea crags;
Yet here, ev'n here, a sacred band
Ay, in the portal of that land

Thou, Arab, dar'st to call thy own,
Their spears across thy path have thrown;
Here-ere the winds half wing'd thee o'er-
Rebellion braved thee from the shore.

Rebellion foul, dishonouring word,
Whose wrongful blight so oft has stain'd
The holiest cause that tongue or sword
Of mortal ever lost or gain'd.
How many a spirit, born to bless,

Hath sunk beneath that with'ring name,
Whom but a day's, an hour's success
Had wafted to eternal fame!
As exhalations, when they burst
From the warm earth, if chill'd at first,
If check'd in soaring from the plain,
Darken to fogs and sink again ;-
But, if they once triumphant spread
Their wings above the mountain-head,
Become enthroned in upper air,
And turn to sun-bright glories there!

And who is he, that wields the might
Of Freedom on the Green Sea brink,
Before whose sabre's dazzling light!

The eyes of YEMEN's warriors wink?
Who comes, embower'd in the spears
Of KERMAN'S hardy mountaineers?
Those mountaineers that truest, last,

Derbend." Les Tures appelent cette ville Demir Capi, Porte de ce sont les Caspie Porta des anciens.-D'Herbel

The Talpot or Talipot tree. "This beautiful palm-tree, which grows in the hear of the forests, may be classed among the loftiest trees, And becomes still higher when on the point of bursting forth from its leafy summit. The sheath which then envelops the flower is very large, and, when it bursts, makes an explosion like the report of a cannon. -Thunberg.

When the bright cimitars make the eyes of our heroes wink." -The Moallakat, Poem of Amru.

Cling to their country's ancient rites, As if that God, whose eyelids cast

Their closing gleam on IRAN's heights, Among her snowy mountain threw The last light of his worship too!

"Tis HAFED-name of fear, whose sound Chills like the mutt'ring of a charm!Shout but that awful name around,

And palsy shakes the manliest arm. "Tis HAFED, most accursed and dire (So rank'd by Moslem hate and ire) Of all the rebel Sons of Fire! Of whose nalign, tremendou power The Arabs, at their mid-watch hour, Such tales of fearful wonder tell, That each affrighted sentinel Pulls down his cowl upon his eyes, Lest HAFED in the midst should rise! A man, they say, of monstrous birth, A mingled race of flame and earth, Sprung from those old, enchanted kings,* Who in their fiery helms, of yore, A feather from the mystic wings

Of the Simoorgh resistless wore; And gifted by the Fiends of Fire, Who groan'd to see their shrines expire, With charms that, all in vain withstood, Would drown the Koran's light in blood'

Such were the tales, that won belief,

And such the colouring Fancy gave
To a young, warm, and dauntless Chief,-
One who, no more than mortal brave,
Fought for the land his soul adored,
For happy homes and altars free,
His only talisman, the sword,

His only spell-word, Liberty!
One of that ancient hero line,
Along whose glorious current shine
Names, that have sanctified their blood;
AS LEBANON's small mountain-flood

Is render'd holy by the ranks

Of sainted cedars on its banks.t
"Twas not for him to crouch the knee
Tamely to Moslem tyranny;
"Twas not for him, whose soul was cast
In the bright mould of ages past,
Whose melancholy spirit, fed
With all the glories of the dead,
Though framed for IRAN's happiest years,
Was born among her chains and tears!-
"Twas not for him to swell the crowd
Of slavish heads, that shrinking bow'd
Before the Moslem, as he pass'd,
Like shrubs beneath the poison-blast-
No-far he fled-indignant fled

The pageant of his country's shame;
While every tear her children shed

Fell on his soul like drops of flame;
And, as a lover hails the dawn

Of a first smile, so welcomed he
The sparkle of the first sword drawn
For vengeance and for liberty!

But vain was valour-vain the flower
Of KERMAN, in that deathful hour,
Against AL HASSAN'S whelming power,-
In vain they met him, helm to helm,
Upon the threshold of that realm

He came in bigot pomp to sway,

Tahmuras, and other ancient Kings of Persia; whose adventures Fairy-land among the Peris and Dives may be found in Richardson's corious Dissertation. The griffin Simoorgh, they say, took some feather from her breast for Tahmuras, with which he adorned his helmet, and transmitted them afterwards to his descendants.

This rivulet, says Dandini, is called the Holy River from the "cedarsaints" among which it rises.

In the Lettres Edifiantes, there is a different cause assigned for it name of Holy. "In these are deep caverns, which formerly served as so many cells for a great number of recluses, who had chosen these retreats as the only witnesses upon earth of the severity of their penanex The tears of these pious penitents gave the ver of which we have just treated the name of the Holy River."-Seu Châteaubriand's Bees of Christianity

And with their corpses block'd his way—
In vain-for every lance they raised,
Thousands around the conqueror blazed;
For every arm that lined their shore,
Myriads of slaves were wafted o'er,-
A bloody, bold, and countless crowd,
Before whose swarm as fast they bow'd
As dates beneath the locust cloud.

There stood-but one short league away
From old HARMOZIA's sultry bay-
A rocky mountain, o'er the Sea
Of OMAN beetling awfully ;*
A last and solitary link

Of those stupendous chains that reach From the broad Caspian's reedy brink

Down winding to the Green Sea beach. Around its base the bare rocks stood, Like naked giants, in the flood,

As if to guard the Gulf across; While, on its peak, that braved the sky, A ruin'd Temple tower'd so high

That oft the sleeping albatrosst Struck the wild ruins with her wing, And from her cloud-rock'd slumbering Started-to find man's dwelling there In her own silent fields of air! Beneath, terrific caverns gave Dark welcome to each stormy wave That dash'd, like midnight revellers, in ;And such the strange, mysterious din At times throughout those caverns roll'd,And such the fearful wonders told Of restless sprites imprison'd there, That bold were Moslem, who would dare, At twilight hour, to steer his skiff Beneath the Gheber's lonely cliff.t

On the land side, those tow'rs sublime,
That seem'd above the grasp of Time,
Were sever'd from the haunts of men
By a wide, deep, and wizard glen,
So fathomless, so full of gloom,

No eye could pierce the void between :
It seem'd a place where Gholes might come
With their foul banquets from the tomb,

And in its caverns feed unseen.
Like distant thunder, from below,
The sound of many torrents came,
Too deep for eye or ear to know
If 'twere the sea's imprison'd flow,
Or floods of ever-restless flame.
For, each ravine, each rocky spire
Of that vast mountain stood on fire ;
And, though forever past the days
When God was worshipp'd in the blaze
That from its lofty altar shone,-

Though fled the priests, the voties gone,
Still did the mighty flame burn on,||

Through chance and change, through good and ill,
Like its own God's eternal will,

Deep, constant, bright, unquenchable !

This mountain is my own creation, as the "stupendous chain," of which I suppose it a link, does not extend quite so far as the shores of the Persian Gulf. "This long and lofty range of mountains formerly divided Media from Assyria, and now forms the boundary of the Persian and Turkish empires. It runs parallel with the river Tigris and Persian Gulf, and almost disappearing in the vicinity of Gomberoon (Harmozia) seems ance more to rise in the southera districts of Kerman, and following an easterly course through the centre of Meckraun and Balouchistan, is entirely lost in the deserts of Sinde."-Kinnier's Persian Empire.

These birds sleep in the air. They are most common about the Cape of Good Hope.

"There is an extraordinary hill in this neighbourhood called Kohé Gubr, or the Guebre's mountain. It rises in the form of a lofty cupola, and on the summit of it, they say, are the remains of an Atush Kudu or Fire Temple. It is superstitiously held to be the residence of Deeves or Sprites, and many marvellous stories are recounted of the injury and Witchcraft suffered by those who essayed in former days to ascend or explore it."-Pottinger's Beloochistan.

The Ghebers generally built their temples over subterraneous fires. At the city of Yezd, in Persint, which is distinguished by the appellation of the Darúb Abadut, or Seat of Religion, the Guebres are permitted to have an Atush Kudu or Fire Temple (which, they assert, has had the sacred fire in it since the days of Zoroaster) in their own compartment of the city; but for this indulgence they are indebted to the avarice, not the tolerance of the Persian government, which taxes them at twenty-five rupees each man."-Pottinger's Beloochistan.

Thither the vanquish'd HAFED led

His little army's last remains ;"Welcome, terrific glen!" he said, "Thy gloom, that Eblis' self might dread, "Is Heav'n to him who flies from chains!" O'er a dark, narrow bridge-way, known To him and to his Chiefs alone,

They cross'd the chasm and gain'd the tow'rs,-. "This home," he cried, "at least is ours ;"Here we may bleed, unmock'd by hymns "Of Moslem triumph o'er our head; "Here we may fall, nor leave our limbs

"To quiver to the Moslem's tread. "Stretch'd on this rock, while vultures' beaks "Are whetted on our yet warm cheeks, "Here-happy that no tyrant's eye "Gloats on our torments-we may die !"

'Twas night when to those towers they came And gloomily the fitful flame,

That from the ruin'd altar broke, Glared 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
"Before a sensual bigot's nod,
"A wretch who shrines his lust in heav'n..
"And makes a pander of his God;
"If her proud sons, her high-born souls,
"Men, in whose veins-oh last disgrace.
"The blood of ZAL and RUSTAM* rolls,-

"If they will court this upstart race,
"And turn from MITHRA's ancient ray,
"To kneel at shrines of yesterday;
"If they will crouch to IRAN's foes,

"Why, let them-till the land's despair "Cries out to Heav'n, and bondage grows "Too vile for ev'n the vile to bear! "Till shame at last, long hidden, burns "Their inmost core, and conscience turns "Each coward tear the slave lets fall "Back on his heart in drops of gall. "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 profaned;

"And though but few-though fast the <6 "Of life is ebbing from our veins, "Enough for vengeance still remains.

"As paiers, after set of sun,
"Rush from the roots of LEBANON
"Across the dark-sea robber's way,t
"We'll bound upon our startled prey:

"And when some hearts that proudest swel
"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!"

Brave, suff'ring souls! they little knew
How many a tear their injuries drew
From one meek maid, one gentle foe,
Whom love first touch'd with others' wo-
Whose life, as free from thought as sin,
Slept like a lake, till Love threw in
His talisman, and woke the tide,
And spread its trembling circles wide.
Once, EMIR! thy unheeding child,

'Mid all this havoc, bloom'd and smiled-
Tranquil as on some battle plain

The Persian lily shines and tow'rs, Before the combat's redd'ning stain

Hath fall'n upon her golden flow'rs. Light-hearted maid, unawed, uumoved, While Heav'n but spared the sire she loved, Once at thy evening tales of blood Unlist'ning and aloof she stoodAnd oft, when thou hast paced along

Thy Harem halls with furious heat, Hast thou not cursed her cheerful song, That came across thee, calm and sweet, Like lates of angels, touch'd so near Hell's confines, that the damn'd can hear !

Far other feelings Love hath brought

Her soul all flame, her brow all sadness, She now has but the one dear thought,

And thinks that o'er, almost to madness! Oft doth her sinking heart recall His words" for my sake weep for all;" And bitterly, as day on day

Of rebel carnage fast succeeds, She weeps a lover snatch'd away

In ev'ry Gheber wretch that bleeds. There's not a sabre meets her eye,

But with his life-blood seems to swim; There's not an arrow wings the sky,

But fancy turns its point to him. No more she brings with footstep light AL HASSAN'S falchion for the fight; And-had he look'd with clearer sight, Had not the mists, that ever rise From a foul spirit, dimm'd his eyesHe would have mark'd her shudd'ring frame, When from the field of blood he came, The falt'ring speech--the look estrangedVoice, step, and life, and beauty changedHe would have mark'd all this, and known Such change is wrought by Love alone! Ah! not the Love, that should have bless'd So young, so innocent a breast; Not the pure, open, prosp'rous Love, That, pledged on earth and seal'd above, Grows in the world's approving eyes,

In friendship's smile and home's caress, Collecting all the heast's sweet ties

Into one knot of happiness! No, HINDA, no-thy fatal flame Is nursed in silence, sorrow,

shame ;

Early in the morning they (the Parses or Ghebers at Oulam) go in crowds to pay their devotions to the Sun, to whom upon all the altars there are spheres consecrated, made by magic, resembling the circles of the sun, and when the sun rises, these orbs seem to be inflamed, and to turn round with a great noise. They have every one a censer in their bands, and offer incense to the sun."-Rabbi Benjamin.

"Nul d'entre eux oseroit se parjurer, quand il a pris à témoin cet élément terrible et vengeur."--Encyclop. Francoise.

A vivid verdure succeeds the autumual rains, and the ploughed felds are covered with a Persian lily, of a resplendent yellow colour."Russel's Aleppo.

A passion, without hope or pleasure, In thy soul's darkness buried deep,

It lies like some ill-gotten treasure,-
Some idol, without shrine or name,
O'er which its pale-eyed votaries keep
Unholy watch, while others sleep.

Seven nights have darken'd OMAN'S SEɛ,
Since last, beneath the moonlight ray,
She saw his light oar rapidly

Hurry her Gheber's bark away,—
And still she goes, at midnight hour,
To weep alone in that high bow'r,
And watch, and look along the deep
For him whose smiles first made her weep,
But watching, weeping, all was vain,
She never saw his bark again.
The owlet's solitary cry,

The night-hawk, flitting darkly by,
And oft the hateful carrion bird,
Heavily flapping his clogg'd wing,
Which reek'd with that day's banqueting-
Was all she saw, was all she heard.

"Tie the eighth morn-AL HASSAN'S brow
Is brighten'd with unusual joy-
What mighty mischief glads him now,

Who never smiles but to destroy?
The sparkle upon HERKEND's Sea,
When toss'd at midnight furiously,*
Tells not of wreck and ruin nigh,

More surely than that smiling eye!

Up, daughter, up-the KERNA'st breath "Has blown a blast would waken deaths, "And yet thou sleep'st-up, child, and see "This blessed day for Heaven and me, "A day more rich in Pagan blood "Than ever flash'd o'er OMAN'S flood. "Before another dawn shall shine,

"His head-heart-Hmbs-will all be mine, "This very night his blood shall steep "These hands all over ere I sleep!"

"His blood!" she faintly scream'd-her mind Still singling one from all mankind"Yes-spite of his ravines and tow'rs,

HAFED, my child, this night is ours. "Thanks to all conqu'ring treachery,

"Without whose aid the links accurst, "That bind these impious slaves, would be "Too strong for ALLA's self to burst! "That rebel fiend, whose blade has spread My path with piles of Moslem dead, "Whose baffling spells had almost driv'n "Back from their course the Swords of Heav'n, "This night, with all his band, shall know, "How deep an Arab's steel can go, "When God and Vengeance speed the blow. "And-Prophet! by that holy wreath "Thou wor'st on ОHOD's field of death,t "I swear, for ev'ry sob that parts "In anguish from these heathen hearts, "A gem from PERSIA'S plunder'd mines "Shall glitter on thy Shrine of Shrines. "But, ha!-she sinks-that look so wild"Those vivid lips-my child, my child, "This life of blood befits not thee,

"And thou must back to ARABY.

"It is observed, with respect to the Sea of Herkend, that when it is tossed by tempestuous winds it sparkles like fire."-Travels of Two Mohammedans.

A kind of trampet-it "was that used by Tamerlane, the sound of which is described as uncommonly dreadful, and so loud as to be heard at the distance of several miles."--Richardson.

"Mohammed had two helmets, an interior and exterior one; the lat ter of which, called Al Muwa-hah, the fillet, wreath, or wreathed gar land, he wore at the battle of Ohod."- Universal History.

"But cheer thee, maid,-the wind that now "Is blowing o'er thy feverish brow, "To-day shall waft thee from the shore; "And e'er a drop of this night's gore "Have time to chill in yonder tow'rs, "Thou'lt see thy own sweet Arab bow'rs."

His bloody boast was all too true;

There lurk'd one wretch among the few
Whom HAFED's eagle eye could count
Around him on that Fiery Mount,-
One miscreant, who for gold betray'd
The pathway through the valley's shade
To those high tow'rs, where Freedom stood
In her last hold of flame and blood.
Left on the field that dreadful night,
When, sallying from their Sacred height,
The Ghebers fought hope's fareweil fight,
He lay-but died not with the brave;
That sun, which should have gilt his grav,
Saw him a traitor and a slave ;-
And, while the few, who thence return'd
To their high rocky fortress, mourn'd
For him among the matchless dead
They left behind on glory's bed,
He lived, and, in the face of morn,

Laugh'd them and Faith and Heav'n to scorn.

Oh for a tongue to curse the slave,

Whose treason, like a deadly blight, Comes o'er the councils of the brave,

And blast's them in their hour of might! May Life's unblessed cup for him Be drugg'd with treach'ries to the brim,With hopes that but allure to fly,

With joys, that vanish while he sips, Like Dead Sea fruits that tempt the eye, But turn to ashes on the lips!* His country's curse, his children's shame, Outcast of virtue, peace, and fame, May he, at last, with lips of flame On the parch'd desert thirsting die,— While lakes, that shone in mockery nigh,+ Are fading off, untouch'd, untasted, Like the once glorious hopes he blasted! And, when from earth his spirit flies. Just Prophet, let the damn'd-one dwell Full in the sight of Paradise,

Beholding heav'n, and feeling hell!

LALLA ROOKH had, the night before, been visited by a dream which, in spite of the impending fate of poor HAFED, made her heart more than usually cheerful during the morning, and gave her cheeks all the freshened animation of a flower that the Bid-musk has just passed over. She taneied that she was sailing on that Eastern Ocean, where the sea-gipsies, who live forever on the water, enjoy a perpetual summer in wandering from isle

"They say that there are apple trees upon the sides of this sen, which bear very lovely fruit, but within are all full of ashes."-Thevenot. The same is asserted of the oranges there; vide Witman's Travels in Amatic Turkey.

"The Asphalt Lake, known by the name of the Dead Sea, is very remarkable on account of the considerable proportion of salt which it contains. In this respect it surpasses every other known water on the surface of the earth. This great proportion of bitter tasted salts is the reason why neither animal nor plant can live in this water."-Klaproth's Chem Analysis of the Water of the Dead Sea, Annals of Philosopay, January, 1813. Hasselquist, however, doubts the truth of this last assertion, as there are shell-fish to be found in the lake.

Lord Byron has a similar allusion to the fruits of the Dead Sea, in that wonderfel display of genius his third Canto of Childe Harold-maguificent beyond any thing, perhans, that even he has ever written.

The Sahrab or Water of the Desert is said to be caused by the rarefaction of the atmosphere from extreme heat; and, which augments the delusion, it is most frequent in hollows, where water might be expected to lodge. I have seen bushes and trees reflected in it with as much accuracy as though it had been the face of a clear and still lake." -Pottinger.

"As to the unbelievers, cheir works are Eke a vapour in a plain, which the thirsty traveller thinketh to be water, until when he cometh bereto he fadeth it to be nothing."-Koran, chap. 24.

A wind which prevails in February, called Bidmusk, from a small and odoriferous flower of that name."-"The wind which blows these Bowers commonly lasts till the end of the month."-Le Bruyn.

The Bajus are of two races: the one is settled on Borneo, and are acude but warkke and industrions (ation, who reckon theselves the

to isle, when she saw a small gilded bark approaching her. It was like one of those boats which the Maldivian islanders send adrift, at the mercy of winds and waves, loaded with perfumes, flowers, and odoriferous wood, as an offering to the Spirit whom they call King of the Sea. At first, this little bark appeared to be empty, but, on coming nearer——

She had proceeded thus far in relating the dream tc her Ladies, when FERAMORZ appeared at the door of the pavilion. In his presence, of course, every thing else was forgotten, and the continuance of the story was instantly requested by all. Fresh wood of aloes was set to burn in the cassolets;-the violet sherbets* were hastily handed round, and after a short prelude on his lute, in the pathetic measure of Nava,t which is always used to express the lamentations of absent lovers, the Poet thus continued:

THE day is lowing-stilly black

Sleeps the grim wave, while heav'n's rack, Dispersed and wild, 'twixt earth and sky Hangs like a shatter'd canopy.

There's not a cloud in that blue plain

But tells of storm to come or past ;Here, flying loosely as the mane

Of a young war-horse in the blast ;There, roll'd in masses dark and swelling, As proud to be the thunder's dwelling! While some, already burst and riv'n, Seem melting down the verge of heav'n; As though the infant storm had rent

The mighty womb that gave him birth, And, having swept the firmament,

Was now in fierce career for earth.

On earth 'twas yet all calm around,
A pulseless silence, dread, profound,
More awful than the tempest's sound.
The diver steer'd for ORMUs' bowers,
And moor'd his skiff till calmer hours;
The sea-birds, with portentous screech,
Flew fast to land;-upon the beach
The pilot oft had paused, with glance
Turn'd upward to that wild expanse ;-
And all was boding, drear, and dark
As her own soul, when HINDA's bark
Went slowly from the Persian shore.-
No music timed her parting oar,f
Nor friends upon the less'ning strand
Linger'd, to wave the unseen hand,
Or speak the farewell, heard no more ··
But lone, unheeded, from the bay
The vessel takes its mournful way,
Like some ill-destined bark that steers
In silence through the Gate of Tears.§

And where was stern AL HASSAN then?
Could not that saintly scourge of men

original possessors of the island of Borneo. The other is a species of sen-gipsies or itinerant fishermen, who live in small covered boats, and en joy a perpetual summer on the eastern ocean, shifting to leeward from island to island, with the variations of the monsoon. In some of their customs this singular race resemble the natives of the Maklivia islands. The Maldivians annually launch a small bark, loaded with perfumes gums, flowers, and odoriferous wood, and turn it adrift at the mercy of wind and waves, as an offering to the Spirit of the Winds; and sometimes similar offerings are made to the spirit whom they term the King of the Sea. In like manner the Bisjus perform their offering to the god of evil, launching a small bark, loaded with all the sins and misfortunes of the nation, which are imagined to fall on the unhappy crew that may be so unlucky as first to meet with it."--Dr. Leyden on the Language and Literature of the Indo-Chinese Nations.

***The sweet-scented violet is one of the plants most esteemed, par ticularly for its great use in Sorbet, which they make of violet sugar."Hasselquist.

The Sherbet they most esteem, and which is drunk by the Grand Signor himself, is made of violets and sugar."-Tavernier.

"Last of all she took a guitar, and sung a pathetic air in the meas ure called Nava, which is always used to express the lamentations of absent lovers."-Persian Tales.

"The Easterns used to set out on their longer voyages with music." -Harmer.

$"The Gate of

the straits or passage into the Red Sea, com

monly called Babel. It teceived this name from the old Ara

bians, on account of the danger of the navigation, and the number of shipwrecks by which it was distinguished; which induced them to con sider ns dead, and to wear mourning for all who had the boldness t hazard the passage through it into the Ethi pic occan."-Richardson.