PARADISE AND THE PERI.

ONE morn a Peri at the gate
Of Eden stood, disconsolate;
And as she listen'd to the springs

Of life within, like music flowing,
And caught the light upon her wings
Through the half-open portal glowing,
She wept to think her recreant race
Should e'er have lost that glorious place!
"How happy," exclaim'd this child of air,
Are the holy spirits who wander there,

'Mid flowers that never shall fade or fall;
Though mine are the gardens of earth and sea,
And the stars themselves have flowers for me,
One blossom of Heaven out-blooms them all

Though sunny the lake of cool Cashmere,
With its plane-tree Isle reflected clear,*

And sweetly the founts of that valley fall;
Though bright are the waters of Sing-su-hay,
And the golden floods, that thitherward stray,t
Yet-oh 'tis only the blest can say

How the waters of Heaven outshine them all
Go, wing thy flight from star to star,
From world to luminous world, as far

As the universe spreads its flaming wall;
Take all the pleasures of all the spheres,
And multiply each through endless years,
One minute of Heaven is worth them all!"

The glorious Angel, who was keeping
The Gates of Light, beheld her weeping;
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

"Numerous small islands emerge from the Lake of Cashmere." †The Altan Kol or Golden River of Tibet has abundance of gold in its sands.-Pinkerton.

On the blue flow'r, which-Bramins say-
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,
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 ;t-

I know where the Isles of Perfume are
Many a fathom down in the sea,
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.

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,

"The Mohammedans 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."

"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."

The Isles of Panchaia.

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

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.
Paradise & the Peri P 64

Whose air is balm; whose ocean spreads
O'er coral banks 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

Of many a young and lov'd Sultana;t
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,-
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.

Mahmood of Gazna, or Ghizni, who conquered India in the beginning of the eleventh century.'

"It is reported that the hunting equipage of the Sultan Mahmoud was so magnificent that he kept four hundred greyhounds and bloodhounds, each of which wore a collar set with jewels, and a covering edgeu with gold and pearls"