Ere he could think she was indeed his own, Own darling maid, whom he so long had known Who, ev'n when grief was heaviest - when loth "Look up, my ZELICA one moment show "Those gentle eyes to me, that I may know 66 Thy life, thy loveliness is not all gone, "But there, at least, shines as it ever shone. "Come, look upon thy AZIM-one dear glance, "Like those of old, were heav'n! whatever chance "Hath brought thee here, oh! 'twas a blessed one! "Like the first shoot of life through every vein, "And now I clasp her, mine, all mine again! 9 The sorrowful nyctanthes, which begins to spread its rich odour after sun-set. "Oh the delight-now, in this very hour, "When had the whole rich world been in my power, "I should have singled out thee, only thee, "From the whole world's collected treasury "To have thee here to hang thus fondly o'er 66 My own best, purest ZELICA once more !". It was indeed the touch of those lov'd lips Took from her soul one half its wretchedness. Said, in a tone whose anguish would have riven A heart of very marble, "pure!—oh Heaven." That tone-those looks so chang'd-the withering blight, That sin and sorrow leave where'er they light- And then the place, that bright unholy place, I No, no he sees it all, plain as the brand Of burning shame can mark-whate'er the hand, That could from heav'n and him such brightness sever, 'Tis done- to heav'n and him she's lost for ever! 1 "Concerning the vipers, which Pliny says were frequent among the balsam-trees, I made very particular enquiry; several were brought me alive both to Yambo and Jidda."- Bruce. It was a dreadful moment; not the tears, The lingering, lasting misery of years Could match that minute's anguish all the worst Of sorrow's elements in that dark burst Broke o'er his soul, and, with one crash of fate, "Oh! curse me not," she cried, as wild he toss'd His desperate hand tow'rds heav'n-" though I am lost, "Think not that guilt, that falsehood made me fall, "No, no-'twas grief, 'twas madness did it all! 66 Nay, doubt me not though all thy love hath ceas'd— "I know it hath - yet, yet believe, at least, "That every spark of reason's light must be "Quench'd in this brain, ere I could stray from thee! They told me thou wert dead-why, Azim, why "Did we not, both of us, that instant die "When we were parted? -oh! could'st thou but know "With what a deep devotedness of woe "I wept thy absence-o'er and o'er again 66 Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew pain, "And memory, like a drop that, night and day, "Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away! "Didst thou but know how pale I sat at home, 66 My eyes still turn'd the way thou wert to come, "And, all the long, long night of hope and fear, "Thy voice and step still sounding in my ear— "Oh God! thou would'st not wonder that, at last, "When every hope was all at once o'ercast, "When I heard frightful voices round me say "Azim is dead! this wretched brain gave way, "And I became a wreck, at random driven, "Without one glimpse of reason or of Heaven "All wild and ev'n this quenchless love within "Turn'd to foul fires to light me into sin! "Thou pitiest me-I knew thou would'st-that sky "Hath nought beneath it half so lorn as I. "The fiend, who lur'd me hither-hist! come near, "Or thou too, thou art lost, if he should hear "Told me such things-oh! with such devilish art, "As would have ruin'd ev'n a holier heart"Of thee, and of that ever-radiant sphere, "Where bless'd at length, if I but serv'd him here, "I should for ever live in thy dear sight, "And drink from those pure eyes eternal light! |