As bards have seen him, in their dreams,
Down the blue Ganges laughing glide
Upon a rosy lotus wreath,*
Catching new lustre from the tide
That with his image shone beneath.
But what are cups, without the aid
Of song to speed them as they flow?
And see a lovely Georgian maid,

With all the bloom, the freshen'd glow
Of her own country maiden's looks,
When warm they rise from Teflis' brooks ;
And with an eye, whose restless ray,

Full, floating, dark-oh he, who knows
His heart is weak, of Heav'n should pray
To guard him from such eyes as those !-
With a voluptuous wildness flings
Her snowy hand across the strings
Of a syrinda, and thus sings :—

Come hither, come hither-by night and by day,
We linger in pleasures that never are gone;
Like the waves of the summer, as one dies away,
Another as sweet and as shining comes on.
And the love that is o'er, in expiring, gives birth
To a new one as warm, as unequall'd in bliss;
And oh! if there be an Elysium on earth,
It is this, it is this.

Here maidens are sighing, and fragrant their sigh
As the flower of the Amra just op'd by a bee;
And precious their tears as that rain from the sky,
Which turns into pearls as it falls in the sea.
Oh! think what the kiss and the smile must be worth,
When the sigh and the tear are so perfect in bliss;
And own if there be an Elysium on earth,

It is this, it is this.

Here sparkles the nectar that, hallow'd by love,

Could draw down those angels of old from their sphere,
Who for wine of this earth left the fountains above,
And forgot Heaven's stars for the eyes we have here.
And, bless'd with the odour our goblet gives forth.
What spirit the sweets of his Eden would miss ?
For oh! if there be an Elysium on earth,

It is this, it is this.

"The Indians feign that Cupid was first seen floating down the Ganges on the Nymphæa Nelumbo."

"Teflis is celebrated for its natural warm baths."

"The Indian syrinda or guitar."

"The Nisan, or drops of spring rain, which they believe to produce

pearls if they fall into shells."

The Georgian's song was scarcely mute,
When the same measure, sound for sound
Was caught up by another lute,

And so divinely breathed around,
That all stood hush'd, and wondering,

And turn'd and look'd into the air,
As if they thought to see the wing
Of Israfil, the angel, there ;—
So pow'rfully on every soul

That new, enchanted measure stole.
While now a voice, sweet as the note

Of the charm'd lute, was heard to float

Along its chords, and so entwine

Its sound with theirs, that none knew whether
The voice or lute was most divine,

So wond'rously they went together :

There's a bliss beyond all that the minstrel has told.
When two, that are link'd in one heavenly tie,
With heart never changing and brow never cold.
Love on through all ills, and love on till they die
One hour of a passion so sacred is worth

Whole ages of heartless and wandering bliss.
And oh if there be an Elysium on earth,
It is this, it is this.

'Twas not the air, 'twas not the words,
But that deep magic in the chords
And in the lips, that gave such power
As music knew not till that hour.

At once a hundred voices said,
"It is the mask'd Arabian maid!"
While Selim, who had felt the strain
Deepest of any, and had lain
Some minutes rapt, as in a trance,

After the fairy sounds were o'er,

Too inly touch'd for utterance,

Now motion'd with his hand for more:

Fly to the desert, fly with me,

Our Arab tents are rude for thee;

But oh! the choice what heart can doubt

Of tents with love, or thrones without?

Our rocks are rough, but smiling there
Th' acacia waves her yellow hair,
Lonely and sweet, nor lov'd the less
For flowering in a wilderness.

• The Angel of Music, who has the most melodious voice of all God's creatures-Sale.

Our sands are bare, but down their slope
The silvery-footed antelope

As gracefully and gaily springs

As o'er the marble courts of kings.

Then come-thy Arab maid will be
The lov'd and lone acacia-tree,
The antelope, whose feet shall bless
With their light sound thy loneliness.
Oh there are looks and tones that dart
An instant sunshine through the heart,-
As if the soul that minute caught
Some treasure it through life had sought
As if the very lips and eyes
Predestin'd to have all our sighs,
And never be forgot again,
Sparkled and spoke before us then!

So came thy every glance and tone,
When first on me they breath'd and shone ;
New, as if brought from other spheres,
Yet welcome as if lov'd for years!

Then fly with me,-if thou hast known
No other flame, nor falsely thrown
A gem away, that thou hadst sworn
Should ever in thy heart be worn.
Come, if the love thou hast for me

pure and fresh as mine for thee,-
Fresh as the fountain under ground,
When first 'tis by the lapwing found.*
But if for me thou dost forsake
Some other maid, and rudely break
Her worshipp'd image from its base,
To give to me the ruin'd place ;-
Then, fare-thee-well-I'd rather make
My bower upon some icy lake
When thawing suns begin to shine,
Than trust to love so false as thine!

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 earthly 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,—

The Hudhud, or lapwing, is supposed to have the power of discovering water under ground.

Which, all the time of this sweet air,
His hand had held, untasted, up,

As if 'twere fix'd by magic therc,-
And naming her, so long unnam'd,
So long unseen, wildly exclaim'd,
"Oh Nourmahal! oh Nourmahal!

Hadst thou but sung this witching strain
1 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 Haram'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,

66

Remember, love, the Feast of Roses!"

Fadladeen, at the conclusion of this light rhapsody, 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"inharmonious"-" nonsensical," he proceeded to say that, viewing it in the most favourable light, it resembled one of those Maldivian boats, to which the Princess had alluded in the relation of her dream (p. 104)-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 flowergarden 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 part of them. 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 Haram on this point, "one of those bards, whose fancy owes all its

illumination to the grape, like that painted porcelain, 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 journey, 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 flowers 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 vanish ing 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 a 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!

66

If anything 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 depths of its woods, nor the grottos, hermitages, and miraculous fountains, 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, appeared at a distance like one vast and variegated parterre;-not all

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