"Ere Peace can visit them, or Truth let in "Her wakening day-light on a world of sin! "But then, celestial warriors, then, when all "Earth's shrines and thrones before our banner fall; "When the glad Slave shall at these feet lay down "His broken chain, the tyrant Lord his crown, "The Priest his book, the Conqueror his wreath, "And from the lips of Truth one mighty breath "Shall, like a whirlwind, scatter in its breeze "That whole dark pile of human mockeries; "Then shall the reign of Mind commence on earth, "And starting fresh, as from a second birth, "Man, in the sunshine of the world's new spring, "Shall walk transparent, like some holy thing! "Then, too, your Prophet from his angel brow "Shall cast the Veil, that hides its splendours now, "And gladden'd Earth shall, through her wide expanse, "Bask in the glories of this countenance ! "For thee, young warrior, welcome! - thou hast yet "Some tasks to learn, some frailties to forget, "Ere the white war-plume o'er thy brow can wave; — "But, once my own, mine all till in the grave !" The Pomp is at an end, the crowds are gone Of that deep voice, which thrill'd like ALLA's own! But there was one, among the chosen maids Who blush'd behind the gallery's silken shades, One, to whose soul the pageant of to-day Has been like death; you saw her pale dismay, Ye wondering sisterhood, and heard the burst She saw that youth, too well, too dearly known, Ah ZELICA! there was a time, when bliss Shone o'er thy heart from every look of his; When but to see him, hear him, breathe the air In which he dwelt, was thy soul's fondest prayer! When round him hung such a perpetual spell, Too happy days! when, if he touch❜d a flower Or gem brighter than even he E'er beam❜d before, but ah! not bright for thee; No- dread, unlook'd for, like a visitant From the' other world, he comes as if to haunt peace Once happy pair!-in proud BOKHARA's groves, There, on the banks of that bright river born, Upon their youth's smooth current, as it pass'd! away From her fond eyes, summon'd to join th' array The Amoo, which rises in the Belur Tag, or Dark Mountains, and running nearly from east to west, splits into two branches, one of which falls into the Caspian sea, and the other into Aral Nahr, or the Lake of Eagles. For the rude tent and war-field's deathful clash; Of Grecian wild-fire, and Love's gentle chains Month after month, in widowhood of soul (Like spirit-tongues, muttering the sick-man's name, Fond maid, the sorrow of her soul was such, Ev'n reason sunk blighted beneath its touch; |