Again she sees his pinnace fly, Wafting him fleetly to his home, Where'er that ill-starr'd home may lie; And calm and smooth it seem'd to win Nor left one breaking heart behind! THE Princess, whose heart was sad enough already, could have wished that FERAMORZ had chosen a less melancholy story; as it is only to the happy that tears are a luxury. Her Ladies, however, were by no means sorry that love was once more the Poet's theme; for, when he spoke of love, they said, his voice was as sweet as if he had chewed the leaves of that enchanted tree, which grows over the tomb of the musician, TanSein. Their road all the morning had lain through a very dreary country;-through valleys, covered with a low bushy jungle, where, in more than one place, the awful signal of the bamboo staff, with the white flag at its top, reminded the traveller that in that very spot the tiger had made some human creature his victim. It was therefore with much pleasure that they arrived at sunset in a safe and lovely glen, and encamped under one of those holy trees, whose smooth columns and spreading roofs seem to destine them for natural temples of religion. Beneath the shade, some pious hands had erected pillars ornamented with the most beautiful porcelain, which now supplied the use of mirrors to the young maidens, as they adjusted their hair in descending from the palankeens. Here while, as usual, the Princess sat listening anxiously, with FADLADEEN in one of his loftiest moods of criticism by her side, the young Poet, leaning against a branch of the tree, thus continued his story: THE morn hath risen clear and calm, 2 And lighting KISHMA'S amber vines. Fresh smell the shores of ARABY, And curl the shining flood beneath,- For gentle skies and breezes fair! I The Persian Gulf. "To dive for pearls in the Green Sea, or Persian Gulf." Sir W. Jones. 2 Islands in the Gulf. 3 Or Selemeh, the genuine name of the headland at the entrance of the Gulf, commonly called Cape Musseldom. "The Indians, when they pass the promontory, throw cocoa-nuts, fruits, or flowers into the sea, to secure a propitious voyage.”. Morier. The nightingale now bends her flight She sung so sweet, with none to listen ; In the clear dawn,- bespangled o'er With dew, whose night-drops would not stain The best and brightest scimitar * That ever youthful Sultan wore 4 On the first morning of his reign! And see the Sun himself! on wings Of glory up the East he springs. Angel of Light! who from the time Those heavens began their march sublime, Hath first of all the starry choir Trod in his Maker's steps of fire! Where are the days, thou wondrous sphere, When IRAN, like a sun-flower, turn'd To meet that eye where'er it burn'd? — When, from the banks of BENDEMEER "the 4 In speaking of the climate of Shiraz, Francklin says, dew is of such a pure nature, that, if the brightest scimitar should be exposed to it all night, it would not receive the least rust." |