Yet dim before her were the smiles of them all,

And the Light of his Haram was young NOURMAHAL !

But where is she now, this night of joy,
When bliss is every heart's employ? -
When all around her is so bright,

So like the visions of a trance,

That one might think, who came by chance
Into the vale this happy night,

He saw that City of Delight"

In Fairy-land, whose streets and towers
Are made of gems and light and flowers! -
Where is the lov'd Sultana? where,

When mirth brings out the young and fair,
Does she, the fairest, hide her brow,
In melancholy stillness now?

Alas-how light a cause may move

Dissension between hearts that love!

Hearts that the world in vain had tried,

And sorrow but more closely tied;

That stood the storm, when waves were rough,

Yet in a sunny hour fall off,

6 The capital of Shadukiam. v. note, p. 160.

Like ships, that have gone down at sea,
When heav'n was all tranquillity!

A something, light as air - a look,
A word unkind or wrongly taken —
Oh! love, that tempests never shook,

A breath, a touch like this hath shaken.
And ruder words will soon rush in
To spread the breach that words begin ;
And eyes forget the gentle ray
They wore in courtship's smiling day;
And voices lose the tone that shed
A tenderness round all they said;
Till fast declining, one by one,
The sweetnesses of love are gone,..
And hearts, so lately mingled, seem
Like broken clouds, -or like the stream,

That smiling left the mountain's brow,

As though its waters ne'er could sever,

Yet, ere it reach the plain below,

Breaks into floods, that part for ever.

Oh you, that have the charge of Love,
Keep him in rosy bondage bound,

..

As in the Fields of Bliss above

He sits, with flowrets fetter'd round;'
Loose not a tie that round him clings,
Nor ever let him use his wings;
For ev'n an hour, a minute's flight
Will rob the plumes of half their light.
Like that celestial bird,-whose nest

Is found beneath far Eastern skies,Whose wings, though radiant when at rest, Lose all their glory when he flies !

8

Some difference, of this dangerous kind, —
By which, though light, the links that bind
The fondest hearts may soon be riven;
Some shadow in love's summer heaven,
Which, though a fleecy speck at first,
May yet in awful thunder burst;-
Such cloud it is, that now hangs over
The heart of the Imperial Lover,

7 See the representation of the Eastern Cupid, pinioned closely round with wreaths of flowers, in Picart's Cérémonies Religieuses. 8 "Among the birds of Tonquin is a species of goldfinch, which sings so melodiously that it is called the Celestial Bird. Its wings, when it is perched, appear variegated with beautiful colours, but when it flies they lose all their splendour.". Grosier.

-

And far hath banish'd from his sight

His NOURMAHAL, his Haram's Light!

Hence is it, on this happy night,

When Pleasure through the fields and groves
Has let loose all her world of loves,

And

every

heart has found its own,

He wanders, joyless and alone,

And weary as that bird of Thrace,

Whose pinion knows no resting-place."

In vain the loveliest cheeks and

This Eden of the earth supplies

eyes

Come crowding round-the cheeks are pale,

The eyes are dim — though rich the spot

With every flow'r this earth has got,

What is it to the nightingale,

If there his darling rose is not?1
In vain the Valley's smiling throng
Worship him, as he moves along;

9 "As these birds on the Bosphorus are never known to rest, they are called by the French 'les ames damnées."" - Dalloway,

1 "You may place a hundred handfuls of fragrant herbs and flowers before the nightingale, yet he wishes not, in his constant heart, for more than the sweet breath of his beloved rose.” — Jami.

He heeds them not

one smile of hers.

Is worth a world of worshippers..

They but the Star's adorers are,

She is the Heav'n that lights the Star!

Hence is it too that NOURMAHAL,

Amid the luxuries of this hour,

Far from the joyous festival,

Sits in her own sequester'd bower,
With no one near, to soothe or aid,
But that inspir'd and wond'rous maid,
NAMOUNA, the Enchantress;-one,
O'er whom his race the golden sun
For unremember'd has
years run,

Yet never saw her blooming brow
Younger or fairer than 'tis now.

Nay, rather, as the west-wind's sigh
Freshens the flower it passes by,

Time's wing but seem'd, in stealing o'er,
To leave her lovelier than before.

Yet on her smiles a sadness hung,

And when, as oft, she spoke or sung Of other worlds, there came a light From her dark eyes so strangely bright,