Dance round the cradle of the Nile,
And hail the new-born Giant's smile!
Thence over Egypt's palmy groves,
Her grots and sepulchres of kings,
The exiled Spirit sighing roves;
And now hangs listening to the doves
In warm Rosetta's vale-now loves
To watch the moonlight on the wings
Of the white pelicans that break
The azure calm of Moris' lake.

'Twas a fair scene-a land more bright
Never did mortal eye behold!
Who could have thought, that saw this night,
Those valleys and their fruits of gold
Basking in heaven's serenest light ;—
Those groups of lovely date-trees bending
Languidly their leaf-crown'd heads,
Like youthful maids, when sleep descending,
Warns them to their silken beds;
Those virgin lilies all the night

Bathing their beauties in the lake,
That they may rise more fresh and bright,
When their beloved sun's awake,—
Those ruin'd shrines and towers that seem
The relics of a splendid dream;

Amid whose fairy loneliness
Nought but the lapwing's cry is heard,
Nought seen but (when the shadows flitting,
Fast from the moon, unsheath its gleam)
Some purple-wing'd sultana sitting
Upon a column motionless,

And glittering like an idol bird !—

Who could have thought that there, even there,

Amid those scenes so still and fair,
The Demon of the Plague hath cast
From his hot wing a deadlier blast,
More mortal far than ever came
From the red desert's sands of flame
So quick that every living thing
Of human shape, touch'd by his wing,
Like plants, where the Simoom hath pass'd,
At once falls black and withering!

The sun went down on many a brow, Which, full of bloom and freshness then, Is rankling in the pest-house now,

And ne'er will feel that sun again! And oh! to see the unburied heaps On which the lonely moonlight sleepsThe very vultures turn away, And sicken at so foul a prey! Only the fiercer hyæna stalks Throughout the city's desolate walks At midnight, and his carnage pliesWoe to the half-dead wretch who meets The glaring of those large blue eyes Amid the darkness of the streets!

Just then beneath some orange trees,
Whose fruit and blossoms in the breeze
Were wantoning together, free,
Like age at play with infancy—
Beneath that fresh and springing bower,
Close by the lake she heard the moan
Of one who at this silent hour,

Had thither stolen to die alone-
One who in life where'er he moved,

Drew after him the hearts of many;
Yet, now, as though he ne'er were loved,
Dies here, unseen, unwept by any!
None to watch near him-none to slake
The fire that in his bosom lies,
With even a sprinkle from that lake

Which shines so cool before his eyes.
No voice, well known through many a day,
To speak the last, the parting word,
Which, when all other sounds decay,
Is still like distant music heard.
That tender farewell on the shore
Of this rude world when all is o'er,
Which cheers the spirit, ere its bark
Puts off into the unknown dark.

Deserted youth! one thought alone

Shed joy around his soul in deathThat she, whom he for years had known, And lov'd and might have call'd his own,

Was safe from this foul midnight's breath ;Safe in her father's princely halls,

Where the cool airs from fountain-falls,
Freshly perfumed by many a brand
Of the sweet wood from India's land,
Were pure as she whose brow they fann'd.

But see, who yonder comes by stealth,
This melancholy bower to seek,
Like a young envoy sent by Health,
With rosy gifts upon her cheek?
"Tis she-far off, through moonlight dim,
He knew his own betrothed bride,
She, who would rather die with him,

Than live to gain the world beside !— Her arms are round her lover now,

His livid cheek to hers she presses,
And dips, to bind his burning brow,

In the cool lake her loosen'd tresses.
Ah! once how little did he think
An hour would come, when he should

With horror from that dear embrace,
Those gentle arms that were to hi
Holy as is the cradling place

Of Eden's infant cherubim !
And now he yields-now turns away,
Shuddering as if the venom lay
All in those proffer'd lips alone-
Those lips that, then so fearless grown,
Never until that instant came
Near his unask'd or without shame.
"O let me only breathe the air,

The blessed air that's breathed by thee,
And whether on its wings it bear

Healing or death, 'tis sweet to me!
There, drink my tears, while yet they fall,-
Would that my bosom's blood were balm,
And well thou know'st, I'd shed it all,
To give thy brow one minute's calm :
Nay, turn not from me that dear face--
Am I not thine-thy own loved bride-
The one, the chosen one, whose place
In life or death is by thy side!
Think'st thou that she, whose only light
In this dim world from thee hath shone,
Could bear the long, the cheerless night,

That must be hers, when thou art gone?
That I can live and let thee go,
Who art my life itself?-No, no,--
When the stem dies, the leaf that grew
Out of its heart must perish too!
Then turn to me, my own love turn,
Before like thee I fade and burn;
Cling to these yet cool lips, and share
The last pure life that lingers there!"
She falls she sinks-as dies the lamp
In charnel airs or cavern-damp,
So quickly do his baleful sighs
Quench all the sweet light of her eyes:
One struggle, and his pain is past.-
Her lover is no longer living!
One kiss the maiden gives, one last

From their dim graves, in odour sleeping ;-
While that benevolent Peri beam'd
Like their good angel calmly keeping

Watch o'er them, till their souls would waken!

But morn is blushing in the sky;
Again the Peri soars above,

Bearing to Heaven that precious sigh
Of pure, self-sacrificing love.
High throbb'd her heart, with hope elate,
The Elysian palm she soon shall win,
For the bright spirit at the gate

Smiled as she gave that offering in,
And she already hears the trees
Of Eden with their crystal bells,
Ringing in that ambrosial breeze

That from the throne of Alla swells ;
And she can see the starry bowls

That lie around that lucid lake Upon whose banks admitted souls Their first sweet draught of glory take!

But ah! even Peri's hopes are vain-
Again the fates forbade, again
The immortal barrier closed-"Not yet,'
The angel said, as, with regret,

He shut from her that glimpse of glory-
"True was the maiden, and her story,
Written in light o'er Alla's head,
By seraph eyes shall long be read.
But, Peri, see-the crystal bar
Of Eden moves not-holier far
Than even this sigh the boon must be
That opes the gate of Heaven for thec."

Now, upon Syria's land of roses
Softly the light of eve reposes,
And, like a glory, the broad sun
Hangs over sainted Lebanon ;
Whose head in wintry grandeur towers,
And whitens with eternal sleet,
While summer, in a vale of flowers,
Is sleeping rosy at his feet.

To one who look'd from upper air
O'er all the enchanted regions there,
How beauteous must have been the glow,
The life, the sparkling from below!
Fair gardens, shining streams, with ranks
Of golden melons on their banks,
More golden where the sunlight falls ;
Gay lizards glittering on the walls
Of ruin'd shrines, busy and bright
As they were all alive with light ;
And, yet more splendid, numerous flocks
Of pigeons, settling on the rocks,
With their rich restless wings, that gleam
Variously in the crimson beam

Of the warm west-as if inlaid

But nought can charm the luckless Peri;
Her soul is sad-her wings are weary-
Joyless she sees the sun look down
On that great temple once his own,
Whose lonely columns stand sublime,
Flinging their shadows from on high
Like dials, which the wizard, Time,

Had raised to count his ages by!

Yet haply there may lie conceal'd
Beneath those chambers of the sun
Some amulet of gems, anneal'd
In upper fires, some tablet seal'd

With the great name of Solomon,
Which, spell'd by her illumined eyes,

Slowly, she sees a child at play,
Among the rosy wild flowers singing,
As rosy and as wild as they ;
Chasing, with eager hands and eyes,
The beautiful blue damsel-flies
That flutter'd round the jasmine stems,
Like winged flowers or flying gems :-
And, near the boy, who, tired with play,
Now nestling 'mid the roses lay,
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!
In which the Peri's eye could read
Dark tales of many a ruthless deed;
The ruin'd maid-the shrine profaned-
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
(As if the balmy evening time
Soften'd his spirit), look'd and lay,
Watching the rosy infant's play :-
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 burn'd all night
Through some impure and godless rite,
Encounter morning's glorious rays.

But hark! the vesper-call to prayer,
As slow the orb of daylight sets,
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
Are lifted to the glowing skies,
Like a stray babe of paradise,
Just lighted on that flowery plain,
And seeking for its home again!

Oh 'twas a sight-that Heaven-that Child-
A scene, which might have well beguil'd

Even haughty Eblis of a sigh,
For glories lost and peace gone by!

From boyhood hour, that instant came Fresh o'er him, and he wept-he wept!

Bless'd 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
Upon Egypt's land, of so healing a power
So balmy a virtue, that even 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!
Though foul thy fiery plagues within,
One heavenly drop hath dispell'd them all!"
And now-behold him kneeling there
By the child's side in humble prayer,
While the same sunbeam shines upon
The guilty and the guiltless one,

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,
There fell a light, more lovely far
Than ever came from sun or star,
Upon the tear that, warm and meek,
Dew'd that repentant sinner's cheek:
To mortal eye this light might seem
A northern flash or meteor beam-
But well the enraptured Peri knew
'Twas a bright smile the Angel threw
From Heaven's gate, to hail that tear
Her harbinger of glory near!

"Joy, joy for ever! my task is doneThe gates are pass'd, and heaven is won! Oh! am I not happy? I am, I am—

To thee, sweet Eden! how dark and sad Are the diamond turrets of Shadukiam And the fragrant bowers of Amberabad. Farewell, ye odours of earth, that die, Passing away like a lover's sigh :My feast is now of the Tooba tree, Whose scent is the breath of eternity! "Farewell, ye vanishing flowers, that shone

In my fairy wreath, so bright and brief,Oh! what are the brightest that e'er have blown

To the lote-tree, springing by Alla's throne,
Whose flowers have a soul in every leaf!
Joy, joy for ever! my task is done-
The Gates are pass'd, and Heaven is won!"