Down mid the pointed crags beneath, While pale and mute young HINDA stood, A momentary plunge below Startled her from her trance of woe;- "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!" Where'er that ill-starr'd home may lie; 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 sorry 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, Tan-Sein. Their road all the morning had lain through a very dreary country;-through valleys, covered with a low bushy jungle, where, in more than one place, the awful signal of the bamboo staff, with the white flag at its top, reminded 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 porcelain, 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 continued his story: THE morn hath risen clear and calm, For gentle skies and breezes fair! With dew, whose night-drops would not stain The best and brightest scimitarş That ever youthful Sultan wore On the first morning of his reign! The Persian Gulf.-"To dive for pearls in the Green Sea, or Persian Gulf."-Sir W. Jones. +Islands in the Gulf. Or Selemeh, the genuine name of the headland at the entrance of the Gulf, commonly called Cape Musseldom. "The Indians, when they pass the promontory, throw cocoa-nuts, fruits, or flowers, into the sea, to secure a propitious voyage."-Morier. § In speaking of the climate of Shiraz, Francklin says, "the dew is of such a pure nature, that, if the brightest scimitar should be exposed to it all night, it would not receive the least rust." And see-the Sun himself!-on wings Trod in his Maker's steps of fire! Where are the days, thou wonderous sphere, And bind her ancient faith in chains:- On foreign shores, unlov'd, unknown, Or on the snowy Mossian mountains, His own belov'd but blighted sod, Is IRAN's pride then gone for ever, Quench'd with the flame in MITHRA's caves ?No-she has sons that never-never The place where the Persians were finally defeated by the Arabs, and their ancient monarchy destroyed. + Derbend.-"Les Tures appellent cette ville Demir Capi, Porte de Fer; ce sont les Caspia Porte des anciens." -D'Herbelot. Will stoop to be the Moslem's slaves, While heaven 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 Till, in some treacherous hour of calm, Yes, EMIR! he, who scal'd that tower, Who loathe thy haughty race and thee: 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; The Talpot or Talipot tree. "This beautiful palmtree, which grows in the heart of the forests, may be class ed among the loftiest trees, and becomes still higher when on the point of bursting forth from its leafy summit. The sheath which then envelopes the flower is very large, and, when it bursts, makes an explosion like the report of a cannon."-Thanberg. |