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There was a pathos in this lay, That, ev'n without enchantment's art, Would instantly have found its way Deep into SELiM's burning heart; But, breathing, as it did, a tone To carthly lutes and lips unknown ; With every chord fresh from the touch Of Music's Spirit, 'twas too much Starting, he dash'd away the cup, Which, all the time of this sweet air, His hand had held, untasted, up, As if 'twere fix’d by magic there, And naming her, so long unnamed, So long unseen, wildly exclaim’d, “Oh Nouamah Al on Nour MAHAL! “Hadst thou but sung this witching strain, “I could forget—forgive thee all, “And never leave those eyes again.”

The mask is off—the charm is wrought—-
And Selim to his heart has caught,
In blushes, more than ever bright,
His NourMAhal, his Harem's Light!
And well do vanish'd frowns enhance
The charm of every brighten’d glance;
And dearer seems each dawning smile
For having lost its light awhile :
And, happier now for all her sighs,

As on his arm her head reposes,
She whispers him, with laughing eyes,

“Remember, love, the Feast of Roses.”

FADLADEEN, at the eonclusion of this light rhapsouy, took occasion to sum up his opinion of the young Cashmerian's poetry.—of which, he trusted, they had that evening heard the last. Having recapitulated the epithets, “ frivolous”—“in...armonious”—“nonsensical,” he proccoded to say ti.:*, viewing it in the most favourable light, it resembled one of those Maidivian boats, to which the l’rincess had alluded in the relation of her dream,"— a slight, gilded thing, sent adrift without rudder or ballast, and with nothing but vapid sweets and faded flowers on board. The profusion, indeed, of flowers and birds, . which this poet had ready on all occasions,—not to mention dews, gems, &c.—was a most oppressive kind of opulence to his hearers; and had the unlucky effect of giving to his style all the glitter of the flower-garden without its method, and all the flutter of the aviary without its song. In addition to this, he chose his subjects badly, and was always most inspired by the worst parts of thein. The charms of paganism, the merits of rebellion,-these were the themes honoured with his particular enthusiasm; and, in the poem just recited, one of his most palatable passages was in praise of that beverage of the Unfaithful, wine;—“being, perhaps,” said he, relaxing into a smile, as conscious of his own character in the Ilarem on this point, “one of those bards, whose fancy owes all its illumination to the grape, like that painted porcelain,t so curious and so rare, whose images are only visible when liquor is poured into it.” Upon the whole. it was his opinion, from the specimens which they had heard, and which, he begged to say, were the most tiresome part of the journev, that—whatever other merits this well-dressed young gentleman might possess—poetry was by no means his proper avocation; “and indeed,” concluded the critic, “from his fondness for skiwers and for birds, I would venture to suggest that a florist or a bird-catcher is a much more suitable calling for him than a poet.”

They had now begun to ascend those barren mountains, which separate Cashmere from the rest of India, and, as the heats were intolerable, and the time of their encampments limited to the few hours necessary for refreshment and repose, there was an end to all their delightful evenings, and LALLA Rookh saw no more of FeRAMorz. She now felt that her short dream of happiness was over, and that she had nothing but the recollection of its few blissful hours, like the one draught of sweet water that serves the camel across the wilderness, to be her heart's refreshment during the dreary waste of life that was before her. The blight that had fallen upon her spirits soon found its way to her cheek, and her ladies saw with regret—though not without some suspicion of the cause—that the beauty of their mistress, of which they were almost as proud as of their own, was fast van ishing away at the very moment of all when she had most need of it. What must the King of Bucharia feel when, instead of the lively and beautiful LaLLA Rookh, whom the poets of Delhi had described as more perfect than the divinest images in the house of Azor," he should receive in pale and inanimate victim, upon whose cheek neither health nor pleasure bloomed, and from whose eyes Love had fled,—to hide himself in her heart? If any thing could have charmed away the melancholy of her spirits, it would have been the fresh airs and enchanting scenery of that Valley, which the Persians so justly called the Unequalled." But neither the coolness of its atmosphere, so luxurious after toiling up those bare and burning mountains,—neither the splendour of the minarets and pagodas, that shone out from the depth of its woods, nor the grottoes, hermitages, and miraculous sountains,f which make every spot of that region holy ground,-neither the countless waterfalls, that rush into the Valley from all those high and romantic mountains that encircle it, nor the fair city on the Lake, whose houses, roofed with flowers,t appeared at a distance like one vast and variegated parterre;—not all these wonders and glories of the most lovely country under the sun could steal her heart for a minute from those sad thoughts, which but darkened, and grew bitterer every step she advanced. The gay pomps and processions that met her upon her entrance into the Valley, and the magnificence with

The Hudhud...or Lapwing, is opposed to have the pewer of dis- h

water under ground.

* See p. 37. - -

f “’s oe Chinese had formerly the art of painting on the sides of por celain vessels fish and other animals, which were only perceptible when the vers was full of some liquor. They call this species IVia tsun, tha is, azur is put in pross, on account of the manner in which the azu is laid on.”--" They are every now and then trying to recover the art this magical painting, but to no purpose.”—Dunn

1 An ethin nt carver of idols, said in the Koran to be father to Abra non. “I love such a lovely idol is is not to be met with in the house of Azor.”--Hafiz.

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called the Shalimar. Though never before had a night of more wakeful and anxious thought been passed in the Happy Valley, yet, when she rose in the morning, ano her Ladies came around her, to assist in the adjustmen of the bridal ornaments, they thought they had never seen her look half so beautiful. What she had lost of the bloom and radiancy of her charms was more than made up by that intelectual expression, that soul beaming forth from the eyes, which is worth all the rest of loveliness. When they had tinged her fingers with the Henna leaf, and placed upon her brow a small coronet of jewels, of the shape worn o the ancient Queens of Bucharra, they flung over her head the rose-coloured bridal veil, and she proceeded to the barge that was to convey her across the lake;—first kissing, with a mournful look, the little amulet of carnelian, which her father at parting had hung about her neck. The morning was as fresh and fair as the maid on whose nuptials it rose, and the shining lake all covered with boats, the minstrels playing upon the shores of the

islands, and the crowded summer-houses on the green hills around, with shawls and banners waving from their | roofs, presented such a picture of animated rejoicing, as

which the roads all alowg were decorated, did honour to only slie who was the object of it all, did not feel with

the taste and gallantry of the young King.

It was night, transport.

To LALLA Rookh alone it was a melancholy

when they approached the city, and, for the last two pageant; nor could she have cven borne to look upon the miles, they had passed under arches, thrown from hedge scene, were it not for a hope that, among the crowds to hedge, festooned with only those rarest roses from around, she might once more perhaps catch a glimpse of which the Attar Gul, more precious than gold, is distilled, FERAMorz. So much was her imagination haunted by and illuminated in rich and fanciful forms with lanterns this thought, that there was scarcely an islet, or boat she of the triple-coloured tortoise-shell of Pegu. Sometimes, passed on the way, at which her heart did not flutter from a dark wood by the side of the road, a display of with the momentary fancy that he was there. Happy, fire-works would break out, so sudden and so brilliant, in her eyes, the humblest slave upon whom the light of that a Brahmin might fancy he beheld that grove, in his dear looks fell !—In the barge immediately aster the

whose purple shade the God of Battles w; s born, bursting into a flame at the moment of his birth;-while, at other times, a quick and playful irradiation continued to bright. en all the fields and gardens by which they passed, forming a line of dancing lights along the horizon; like the meteors of the north as they are seen by those hunters,ll who pursue the white and blue foxes on the confines of the Icy Sea. These arches and fire-works delighted the Ladies of the Princess exceedingly ; and with their usual good logic, they deduced from his taste for illuminations, that the King of Bucharia would make the most exemplary ! usband imaginable. Nor, indeed, could Lall.A Rookh erself help feeling the kindness and splendour with which he young bridegroom welcomed her —but she also felt how painful is the gratitude, which kindness from these we cannot love excites ; and that their best blandishments come over the heart with all that chilling and deadly sweetness, which we can fancy in the cold, odoriferous wind," that is to blow over this earth in the last days. The marriage was fixed for the morning after her arrival, when she was, for the first time, to be presented to the Inonarch in that Imperial Palace beyond the lake,

princess sat FAdLADEEN, with his silken curtains thrown widely apart, that all might have the benefit of his august presence, and with his head full of the speech he was to deliver to the King, “concerning FERAMoRz, and liter ture, and the Chabuk, as connected there with.” They now had entered the canal which leads from the Lake to the splendid domes and saloons of the Shalimar, and went gliding on through the gardens that ascended. from each bank, full of flowering shrubs that made the air all perfume; while from the middle of the cana rose jets of water, smooth and unbroken, to such a dazzling height, that they stood like tall pillars of diamond in the

sunshine. After sailing under the arches of various sa

loons, they at length arrived at the last and most magnificent, where the monarch awaited the coming of his bride; and such was the agitation of her heart and frame, that it was with difficulty she could walk up the marble steps, which were covered with cloth of gold for her ascent from the barge. At the end of the hall stood two thrones, as precious as the Cerulcan Throne of Coolburga", on one of which sat All Ris, the youthful King of Bucharia, and on the other was, in a few minutes, to be placed the most beautiful Princess in the world. Immediately upon the entrance of L.Alt. A Rookii into the saloon, the monarch descended from his throne to meet her; but scarcely had he time to take her hand in his, when she screamed with surprise, and sainted at his feet. It was FERAMoRz himself that stood before her l—FERAMoRz was, himself, the Sovereign of Bucharia, who in this disguise had accompanied his young bride from Delhi, and having won her love as an humble minstrel, now amply deserved to enjoy it as a King. The consternation of FADLADEEN at this discovery was, for the moment, almost pitiable. But change of opinion is a resource too convenient in courts for this experienced

* Knchmire be Nazeer.—Forster. - t’s repordonable superstition of the sequestered inhabitants has multiplied the paces of worship of Manadeo, of -chan, nud of Brama. Ali Cash;nore is holy land, and miraculous fountains abound."--Major Rennet's Memoirs of a Map of Hindostan. "hum Guremention,” a fountain in Cashmere called Tirnagh, which signific, a snake; probably because soone large snake had form iy been on there.”—” During the lifetime of my father, I went twice to this fountain, which is about twenty co-s from the city of Cashmore. The vestiges of places of worship and sanctity are to be traced without nonber on of gst the ruins and the caves...which are intors persoo, in its neigh bouri.o.o.d."—Toozek J langeery.-Wide .3sat.-Misc.. vol. ii. • "There is another account of Cashmere by Abul Fazl, the anthor of the Ayin. Acbaree. “ who,” says -Majur. Rennel, . " appears to have gaught some of the enthasiasm of the valley, by his description of the holy, places in it." - - * On a standing roof of wood is laid a covering of fine earth, which shelters the building from the great quantity of snow trial falls in the winter season. This fence communicates an equal warmth in winter, as a refreshing coolness un the summer season, when the tops of the houses, which are planted with a yariety of towers, exhibit to, a distance the spacious view of a beautifully-chequered porterre...-Frrster. § “Two hundred slaves there are, who have no other office than to bunt the woods wool marshes for triple-coloured tortois's for the King's Vivary...Of the shells of these also lunterns are made.”--Vincent ng’s Travels. . - § For a description of the Aurora Borealis as it appears to these huntess, vide Encyclopædia. - - * This wind, which is to blow from Syria Darnascena, is, according to the Mahometans, one of the Figns of the Last Day'- npproach: Another of the signs is, “Great distress in to world, -o that a man o: by another's graves' all say, Would um God I were in –Sole's Preluuuuury Discourse.

when he

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* “Ou Mahommed Shaw's return to Koolhurgh (the capital of

knn) he made a great festival, and mounted, this thron; with mu pomp and magnificence, calling it Firozel, or Cerulean. I have hord some old persons, who saw the throne Firozeh in the reign of Sultan Mamood Bhimenee, describe it. They say that it was in length nine fret, and three in Kreadth ; nado of ebony, covered with plates of pure gold, and set with precious stones of immense value Every prince of the house of Blounenee, who possessed this throne, made a point of adding to it some rich stones; so that when, in the reign of Sultan Manwood, it whe taken to pieces, to remove some of the jewels to be set in vases, and cups, the jowellers value} it at one corose os. oons. (noarly four millions I learned also that it was called Firozeh from being partly enamelied of a sky-blue 'olour, which was in unue totally co-coaled by number of jewels.” Fortskia.

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Till he hollow'd a boat of the birchen bark,
Which carried him off from shore;

Far, far he follow'd the meteor spark,

The wind was high and the clouds were dark, And the boat return’d no more.

But oft, from the Indian hunter's camp, This lover and maid so true

Are seen at the hour of midnight damp

To cross the Lake by a fire-fly lamp,
And paddle their white canoe

THE SNOW SPIRIT.

No, de'er did the wave in its elements steep
An island of lovelier charms;
It blooms in the giant embrace of the deep,
Like Hebe in Hercules' arms.
The blush of your bowers is light to the eye,
And their melody balm to the ear;
But the fiery planet of day is too nigh,
And the Snow Spirit never comes here.

The down from his wing is as white as the pearl
That shines through thy lips when they part,
And it falls on the green earth as melting, Iny girl,
As a murmur of thine on the heart.
Oh! fly to the clime, where he pillows the death,
As he cradles the birth of the year;
Bright are your bowers and balmy their breath,
But the Snow Spirit cannot come here.

How sweet to behold him, when borne on the gale,
And brightening the bosom of morn,
He flings, like the priest of Diana, a veil
O'er the brow of each virginal thorn.
Yet think not the veil he so chillingly casts
Is the veil of a vastal severe;
No, no, thou wilt see, what a moment it lasts,
Should the Snow Spirit ever come here.

But fly to his region—lay open thy zone,
And he'll weep all his brilliancy dim,
To think that a bosom, as white as his own,
Should not melt in the daybeam like him.
Oh! lovely the print of those delicate feet
O'er his luminous path will appear—
Fly, fly, my beloved! this island is sweet,
But the Snow Spirit cannot come here.

The FIRE-FLY.

At morning, when the earth and sky Are glowing with the light of spring,

We see thee not, thou humble fly! Northink upon thy gleaming wing.

But when the skies have lost their hue,
And sunny lights no longer play,

Oh then we see and bless thee too
For sparkling o'er the dreary way.

Thus let me hope, when lost to me The lights that now my life illume,

Some milder joys may come, like thee, To cheer, if not to warm, the gloom!

THE STEeRSMAN'S SONG.

WHEN freshly blows the northern gale,
And under courses snug we fly ;
Or when light breezes swell the sail,
And royais proudly sweep the sky;
'Longside the wheel, unwearied still
1 stand, and, as my watchful eye
I}oth imark the needle's faithful thrill,
I think of her I love, and cry,
Port, my boy, port:

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Farewell to Bermuda, and long may the bloom
Of the lemon and myrtle its valleys perfume;
May spring to eternity hallow the shade,
Where Ariel has warbled and Waller has stray'd.
And thou—when, at dawn, thou shalt happen to roam
Through the lime-cover'd alley that leads to thy home,
Where oft, when the dance and the revel were done,
And the stars were beginning to fade in the sun,
I have led thee along, and have told by the way
What my heart all the night had been burning to say-
Oh! think of the past—give a sigh to those times,
And a blessing or me to that alley of limes.

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'Tis the middle watch of a summer's night—
The carth is dark, but the heavens are bright;
Naught is seen in the vault on high
But the moon, and the stars, and the cloudless sky,
And the flood which rolls its milky hue,
A river of light on the welkin blue.
The moon looks down on old Cronest,
She mellows the shades, on his shaggy breast,
And seems his huge gray form to throw
In a silver cone on the wave below;
His sides are broken by spots of shade,
By the walnut bough and the cedar made,
And through their clustering branches dark
Glimmers and dies the fire-fly’s spark—
Like starry twinkles that momently break
Through the rifts of the gathering tempest's rack.

II.

The stars are on the moving stream,
And fling, as its ripples gently flow,
A burnished length of wavy beam
In an eel-like, spiral line below;
The winds are whist, and the owl is still,
The bat in the shelvy rock is hid.
And naught is heard on the lonely hill
But the cricket's chirp, and the answer shrill
Of the gauze-winged katy-did;
And the plaint of the wailing whip-poor-will,
Who moans unseen, and ceaselass sings,
Ever a note of wail and wo,
Till morning spreads her rosy wings,
And earth and sky in her glances glow.

III.

Tis the hour of fairy ban and spell;
The wood-tick has kept the minutes well;
He has counted them all with click and stroke
Deep in the heart of the mountain-oak,
And he has awakened the sentry elve
Who sleeps with him in the haunted tree,
To bid him ring the hour of twelve,
And call the says to their revelry:
elve small strokes on his 'skling bell—

('Twas made of the white snail’s pearly shell;)
“Midnight comes, and all is well!
Hither, hither, wing your way!
*Tis the dawn of the fairy-day.”

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They come from beds of lichen green,
They creep from the mullen's velvet screen;
Some on the backs of beetles fly
From the silver tops of moon-touched trees,
Where they swung in their cobweb hammocks high,
And rocked about in the evening breeze;
Some from the hum-bird’s downy nest—
They had driven him, out by elfin power,
And, pillowed on plumes of his rainbow breast,
Had slumbered there 'ill the charmed hour;
Some had lain in the scoop of the rock, -
With glittering ising-stars inlaid;
And some had opened the four-o'clock,
And stole within its purple shade.
And now they throng the moonlight glade,
Above—below—on every side,
Their little minim forms arrayed
In the tricksy pomp of fairy pride

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They come not now to print the lea,
In freak and dance around the tree,
Or at the mushroom board to sup,
And drink the dew from the buttercup;-
A seene of sorrow waits them now,
For an Ouphe has broken his ves'al vow;
He has loved an earthly maid,
And left for her his woodland shade;
He has lain upon her lip of dew,
And sunned him in her eye of blue,
Fanned her cheek with his wing of air,
Played in the ringlets of her hair,
And, nestling on her snowy breast,
Forgot the illy-king's behest.
For this the shadowy tribes of air
To the elfin court must haste away :-
And now they stand expectant there,
To hear the doom of the culmrit Fav-

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