And, as he nearer drew and listen'd
To her sad song, a tear-drop glisten'd
Within his eyelids, like the spray

From Eden's fountain, when it lies
On the blue flow'r, which-Bramins say -

66

Blooms no where but in Paradise!

Nymph of a fair, but erring line!"

Gently he said "One hope is thine. " "Tis written in the Book of Fate,

"The Peri yet may be forgiven

"Who brings to this Eternal Gate
"The Gift that is most dear to Heaven!

"Go, seek it, and redeem thy sin;-
""Tis sweet to let the Pardon'd in !"

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,

"The Mahometans suppose that falling stars are the firebrands wherewith the good angels drive away the bad, when they approach too near the empyreum or verge of the Heavens."- Fryer.

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 expanse.

But whither shall the Spirit go

To find this gift for heav'n?" I know
"The wealth," she cries, " of every urn,
"In which unnumber'd rubies burn,
"Beneath the pillars of CHILMINAR;
"I know where the Isles of Perfume are

"Many a fathom down in the sea,

8

"To the south of sun-bright ARABY ; ' — "I know too where the Genii hid

"The jewell'd cup of their King JAMSHID, ' "With Life's elixir sparkling high –

"But gifts like these are not for the sky.

8 The Forty Pillars; so the Persians call the ruins of Persepolis. It is imagined by them that this palace and the edifices at Balbec were built by Genii, for the purpose of hiding in their subterraneous caverns immense treasures, which still remain there. — D'Herbelot, Volney.

9 The Isles of Panchaia.

1." The cup of Jamshid, discovered, they say, when digging for the foundations of Persepolis." Richardson.

"Where was there ever a gem that shone

"Like the steps of ALLA's wonderful Throne? "And the Drops of Life-oh! what would they be "In the boundless Deep of Eternity?"

While thus she mus'd, her pinions fann'd

The air of that sweet Indian land,

THEC

Whose air is balm; whose ocean spreads
O'er coral rocks and amber beds;
Whose mountains, pregnant by the beam
Of the warm sun, with diamonds teem;
Whose rivulets are like rich brides,
Lovely, with gold beneath their tides;
Whose sandal groves and bowers of spice
Might be a Peri's Paradise!

But crimson now her rivers ran

With human blood- the smell of death Came reeking from those spicy bowers, And man, the sacrifice of man,

Mingled his taint with every breath Upwafted from the innocent flowers! Land of the Sun! what foot invades Thy Pagods and thy pillar'd shades -

Thy cavern shrines, and Idol stones,

Thy Monarchs and their thousand Thrones?

'Tis He of GAZNA fierce in wrath

He comes, and INDIA's diadems

Lie scatter'd in his ruinous path.

His blood-hounds he adorns with gems,

Torn from the violated necks

8

Of many a young and lov'd Sultana ; ® —
Maidens, within their pure Zenana,
Priests in the very fane he slaughters,

And choaks up with the glittering wrecks
Of golden shrines the sacred waters!

Downward the PERI turns her gaze,
And, through the war-field's bloody haze
Beholds a youthful warrior stand,

Alone, beside his native river, —

7 Mahmood of Gazna, or Ghizni, who conquered India in the beginning of the 11th century. - v. his History in Dow and Sir J. Malcolm.

8 "It is reported that the hunting equipage of the Sultan Mahmoud was so magnificent, that he kept 400 grey-hounds and bloodhounds, each of which wore a collar set with jewels, and a covering edged with gold and pearls."- Universal History, vol. iii,

The red blade broken in his hand

And the last arrow in his quiver.

"Live," said the Conqueror, "live to share

The trophies and the crowns I bear!"

Silent that youthful warrior stood —
Silent he pointed to the flood

All crimson with his country's blood,
Then sent his last remaining dart,

For answer, to the' Invader's heart.

False flew the shaft, though pointed well;
The Tyrant liv'd, the Hero fell! -

Yet mark'd the PERI where he lay,

And, when the rush of war was past,

Swiftly descending on a ray

Of morning light, she caught the lastLast glorious drop his heart had shed,

Before its free-born spirit fled!

"Be this," she cried, as she wing'd her flight, "My welcome gift at the Gates of Light. "Though foul are the drops that oft distil "On the field of warfare, blood like this,

"For Liberty shed, so holy is,