She saw a wearied man dismount From his hot steed, and on the brink Of a small imaret's rustic fount Impatient fling him down to drink. Then swift his haggard brow he turn'd To the fair child, who fearless sat, Though never yet hath day-beam burn'd Upon a brow more fierce than that,— Sullenly fierce a mixture dire, Like thunder-clouds, of gloom and fire! the shrine profan'd Oaths broken- and the threshold stain'd With blood of guests! - there written, all, Black as the damning drops that fall From the denouncing Angel's pen, Ere Mercy weeps them out again ! Yet tranquil now that man of crime, Though still, whene'er his eye by chance Fell on the boy's, its lurid glance Met that unclouded, joyous gaze, As torches, that have burnt all night Through some impure and godless rite, Encounter morning's glorious rays. But hark! the vesper call to prayer, Is rising sweetly on the air, From SYRIA's thousand minarets! The boy has started from the bed Of flowers, where he had laid his head, And down upon the fragrant sod Kneels, with his forehead to the south, Lisping th' eternal name of God From purity's own cherub mouth, And looking, while his hands and eyes And seeking for its home again! Oh 'twas a sight — that Heav'n that Child A scene, which might have well beguil'd For glories lost and peace gone by! And how felt he, the wretched Man Reclining there while memory ran - O'er many a year of guilt and strife, Nor found one sunny resting-place, Nor brought him back one branch of grace! "There was a time," he said in mild, Heart-humbled tones "thou blessed child! "When young and haply pure as thou, "I look'd and pray'd like thee - but now -" He hung his head each nobler aim And hope and feeling, which had slept From boyhood's hour, that instant came Fresh o'er him, and he wept he wept! Blest tears of soul-felt penitence! In whose benign, redeeming flow Is felt the first, the only sense Of guiltless joy that guilt can know. "There's a drop," said the PERI," that down from "the moon "Falls through the withering airs of June 66 Upon EGYPT's land, of so healing a power, "So balmy a virtue, that ev'n in the hour "That drop descends, contagion dies, "And health reanimates earth and skies! "Oh, is it not thus, thou man of sin, "The precious tears of repentance fall? While the same sun-beam shines upon And hymns of joy proclaim through Heaven The triumph of a Soul Forgiven! 'Twas when the golden orb had set, While on their knees they linger'd yet, 8 The Nucta, or Miraculous Drop, which falls in Egypt precisely on St. John's day, in June, and is supposed to have the effect of stopping the plague. There fell a light, more lovely far "Joy, joy for ever! my task is done - "To thee, sweet Eden! how dark and sad "Are the diamond turrets of SHADUKIAM, 9 "And the fragrant bowers of AMBERABAD! "Farewel, ye odours of Earth, that die, "Passing away like a lover's sigh ; 9 The Country of Delight, the name of a Province in the kingdom of Jinnistan, or Fairy Land, the capital of which is called the city of Jewels. Amberabad is another of the cities of Jinnistan. |