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 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, 7 For an account of the share which wine had in the fall of the angels, v. Mariti. As if they thought to see the wing 8 Of ISRAFIL, the Angel, there; So pow'rfully on every soul That new, enchanted measure stole. 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; 8 The Angel of Music. v. note, p. 267. "Twas not the air, 'twas not the words, But that deep magic in the chords 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, 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 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 And never be forgot again, So came thy every glance and tone, Then fly with me, - if thou hast known Come, if the love thou hast for me But if for me thou dost forsake 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! 9 The Hudhud, or Lapwing, is supposed to have the power of discovering water under ground. |