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[From "Lallah Rookh," an oriental romance. The fabled Peri of the East closely corresponds to the Fuiry

of our legends.]

ONE morn a Peri at the gate
Of Eden stood, disconsolate;
And as she listened to the springs

Of life within, like music flowing,
And caught the light upon her wings

Through the half-open portal glowing, She wept to think her recreant race Should e'er have lost that glorious place!

Then swift his haggard brow he turned

To the fair child, who fearless sat--
Though never yet hath day-beam burned

Upon a brow more fierce than that--
Sullenly fierce—a mixture dire,
Like thunder-clouds of gloom and fire,
In which the Peri's eye could read
Dark tales of many a ruthless deed.


How happy,” exclaimed this child of air, Yet tranquil now that man of crime
Are the holy spirits who wander there, (As if the balmy evening time

'Mid flowers that never shall fade or fall! Softened his spirit) looked and lay, Though mine are the gardens of earth and Watching the rosy infant's play; sea,

Though still, whene'er his eye by chance One blossom of heaven out-blooms them Fell on the boy's, its lurid glance all !”

Met that unclouded, joyous gaze,

As torches that have burnt all night
The glorious angel who was keeping

Encounter morning's glorious rays.
The gates of light, beheld her weeping;
And, as he nearer drew and listened, But hark! the vesper call to prayer,
A tear within his eyelids glistened. -

As slow the orb of daylight sets,
"Nymph of a fair but erring line!” Is rising sweetly on the air
Gently he said, one hope is thine.

From Syria's thousand minarets ! 'Tis written in the book of fate,

The boy has started from the bed The Peri yet may be forgiven,

Of flowers, where he had laid his head, Who brings to this eternal gate

And down upon the fragrant sod The gift that is most dear to Heaven ! Kneels, with his forehead to the south, Go, seek it, and redeem thy sin;

Lisping th' eternal name of God 'Tis sweet to let the pardoned in!”

From purity's own cherub mouth ;

And looking, while his hands and eyes Rapidly as comets run

Are lifted to the glowing skies, To the embraces of the sun,

Like a stray babe of paradise,
Down the blue vault the Peri flies,

Just lighted on that flowery plain,
And lighted earthward by a glance And seeking for its home again!
That just then broke from morning's eyes,
Hung hovering o'er our world's expanse. And how felt he, the wretched man

Reclining there---while memory ran
Over the vale of Baalbec winging,

O'er many a year of guilt and strife The Peri sees a child at play,

That marked the dark flood of his life, Among the rosy wild-flowers singing, Nor found one sunny resting-place, As rosy and as wild as they;

Nor brought him back one branch of Chasing, with eager hands and eyes,

grace? The beautiful blue damsel-flies

There was a time,” he said, in mild, That fluttered round the jasmine stems, Heart-humbled tones,

thou blessed Like winged flowers or flying gems:

child ! And near the boy, who, tired with play, When young, and haply pure as thou, Now nestling 'mid the roses lay,

I looked and prayed like thee; but now, She saw a wearied man dismount

He hung his head; each nobler aim From his hot steed, and on the brink And hope and feeling which had slept Of a small temple's rustic fount

From boyhood's hour, that instant came Impatient Aling him down to drink.

Fresh o'er him, and he wept-- he wept !

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And now! behold him kneeling there, Upon the tear that, warm and meek,
By the child's side in humble prayer, Dewed that repentant sinner's cheek:
While the same sunbeam shines upon To mortal eye this light might seem
The guilty and the guiltless one,

A northern flash or meteor beam;
And hymns of joy proclaim through heaven But well th' enraptured Peri knew
The triumph of a soul forgiven!

'Twas a bright smile the angel threw

From heaven's gate, to hail that tear'Twas when the golden orb had set,

Her harbinger of glory near !
While on their knees they lingered yet,
There fell a light-more lovely far

“Joy ! joy!” she cried; my task is done Than ever came from sun or star

The gates are passed, and heaven is won !"


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A MOTHER's Love!: -how sweet the name! | Ten thousand voices answer,
What is a Mother's Love?

Ye clasp your babes and kiss;
A noble, pure, and tender flame,

Your bosoms yearn, your eyes o'erflow; Enkindled from above,

Yet, ah ! remember this :To bless a heart of earthly mould-- The infant reared alone for earth, The warmest love that can grow cold;- May live, may die-to curse his birth;This is a Mother's Love.

Is this a Mother's Love?

To bring a helpless babe to light,

Then while it lies forlorn,
To gaze upon that dearest sight,

And feel herself new-born;
In its existence lose her own,
And live and breathe in it alone;

This is a Mother's Love.

A parent's heart may prove a snare :

The child she loves so well,
Her hand may lead, with gentlest care,

Down the smooth road to hell!
Nourish its frame-destroy its mind;
Thus do the blind mislead the blind,

Even with a Mother's Love.


Blest infant! whom his mother taught In weakness in her arms to bear, To cherish on her breast,

Early to seek the Lord, Feed it from Love's own fountain there,

And poured upon his dawning thought And lull it there to rest;

The dayspring of the word;

This was the lesson to her son, Then while it slumbers watch its breath,

Time is Eternity begun; As if to guard from instant death;

Behold that Mother's Love! This is a Mother's Love.

Blest mother! who in Wisdom's path, To mark its growth from day to day,

By her own parent trod, Its opening charms admire,

Thus taught her son to flee the wrath, Catch from its eye the earliest ray

And know the fear of God: of intellectual fire;

Ah, youth ! like him enjoy your prime,-To smile and listen while it talks,

Begin eternity in time, And lend a finger when it walks;

Taught by that Mother's Love. This is a Mother's Love.

That Mother's Love Show sweet the And can a Mother's Love grow cold

What was that Mother's Love? (name! Can she forget her boy?

The noblest, purest, tenderest flame, His pleading innocence behold,

That kindles from above, Nor weep for grief-for joy?

Within a heart of earthly mould, A mother may forget her child,

As much of heaven as heart can hold, While wolves devour it on the wild;- Nor through eternity grows old; Is this a Mother's Love?

This was that Mother's Love. • Tim. i. 5, and iii. 14, 15.




THE nurse stood near, in whose embraces | Thou from this tower defend th' important pressed,

post, His only hope hung smiling at her breast, There Agamemnon points his dreadful Whom each soft charm and early grace

host, adorn,

That pass Tydides, Ajax, strive to gain, Fair as the new-born star that gilds the And there the vengeful Spartan fires his morn.

train. To this loved infant Hector gave the name Thrice our bold foes the fierce attack have Scamandrius, from Scamander's honoured given, stream;

Or led by hopes, or dictated from heaven. Astyanax the Trojans called the boy, Let others in the field their arms employ, From his great father, the defence of Troy. But stay my Hector here, and guard his Silent the warrior smiled, and pleased re

Troy. signed To tender passions all his mighty mind : The chief replied: That post shall be my His beauteous princess cast a mournful look,

Not that alone, but all the works of war. Hung on his hand, and then dejected How would the sons of Troy, in arms respoke;

nowned, Her bosom laboured with a boding sigh, And Troy's proud dames, whose garments And the big tear stood trembling in her eye. sweep the ground,

Attaint the lustre of my former name, Too daring prince! ah, whither dost thou Should Hector basely quit the field of run?

fame! Ah, too forgetful of thy wife and son! My early youth was bred to martial pains, And think'st thou not how wretched we My soul impels me to th'embattled plains: shall be

Let me be foremost to defend the throne, A widow I, a helpless orphan he!

And guard my father's glories, and my own. For sure such courage length of life denies; Yet come it will, the day decreed by fatesAnd thou must fall, thy virtue's sacrifice. (How my heart trembles while my tongue Greece in her single heroes strove in vain :

relates !) Now hosts oppose thee, and thou must be The day when thou, imperial Troy! must slain.

bend, Oh, grant me, gods! ere Hector meets his And see thy warriors fall, thy glories end. doom,

And yet no dire presage so wounds my All I can ask of Heaven-an early tomb!

mind, So shall my days in one sad tenor run, My mother's death, the ruin of my kind, And end with sorrows, as they first begun. Not Priam's hoary hairs defiled with gore, No parent now remains iny griefs to share, Not all my brothers gasping on the shore, No father's aid, no mother's tender care. As thine, Andromache!-thy griefs I dread:

I see thee trembling, weeping, captive Yet, while my Hector still survives, I


In Argive looms our battles to design, My father, mother, brethren, all, in thee: And woes, of which so large a part was Alas! my parents, brothers, kindred, all

thine! Once more will perish, if my Hector fall. To bear the victor's hard commands, or Thy wife, thy infant, in thy danger share: bring Oh, prove a husband's and a father's care! The weight of waters from Hyperia's spring. That quarter most the skilful Greeks annoy, There, while you groan beneath the load of Where yon wild fig-trees join the wall of

life, Troy;

They cry, Behold the mighty Hector's wifo!

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to see,

of Troy


Some haughty Greek, who lives thy tears He spoke, and fondly gazing on her

charms, Imbitters all thy woes, by naming me. Restored the pleasing burden to her arms: The thoughts of glory past, and present Soft on her fragrant breast the babe she shame,

laid, A thousand griefs shall waken at the name! Hushed to repose, and with a smile surMay I lie cold before that dreadful day,

veyed. Pressed with a load of monumental clay! The troubled pleasure soon chastised by Thy Hector, wrapt in everlasting sleep,

fear, Shall neither hear thee sigh, nor see thee She mingled with the smile a tender tear. weep.

The softened chief with kind compassion

viewed, Thus having spoke, th' illustrious chief And dried the falling drops, and thus par.

sued: Stretched his fond arms to clasp the lovely boy.

Andromache! my soul's far better part! The babe clung crying to his nurse's breast, Why with untimely sorrows heaves thy Scared at the dazzling helm and nodding

heart? crest.

No hostile hand can antedate my doom, With secret pleasure each fond parent Till fate condemn me to the silent tomb. smiled,

Fixed is the term to all the race of earth; And Hector hasted to relieve his child; And such the hard condition of our birth, The glittering terrors from his brows un- No force can then resist, no flight can

bound, And placed the beaming helmet on the All sink alike, the fearful and the brave. ground,

No more-but hasten to thy tasks at home: Then kissed the child, and lifting high in air, There guide the spindle, and direct the Thus to the gods preferred a father's prayer:

loom :

Me glory summons to the martial sceneO thou! whose glory fills th' ethereal The field of combat is the sphere for men : throne,

Where heroes war, the foremost place I And all ye deathless powers ! protect my


The first in danger, as the first in fame. Grant him, like me, to purchase just renown,

Thus having said, the glorious chief reTo guard the Trojans, to defend the crown,

His towery helmet, black with shading Against his country's foes the war to wage, plumes. And rise the Hector of the future age! His princess parts with a prophetic sigh, So when triumphant from successful toils I'nwilling parts, and oft reverts her eye, Of heroes slain he bears the reeking That streamed at every look; then, moving spoils,

slow, Whole hosts may hail him with deserved Sought her own palace, and indulged her acclaim,

woe. And say, This chief transcends his father's There, while her tears deplored the godlike fame:

man, While pleased amidst the general shouts of Through all the train the soft infection ran : Troy,

The pious maids their mingled sorrows His mother's conscious heart o'erflows with

shed, joy.

And mourn the living Hector as the dead.

POPE's Homer.


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Now Morn, her rosy steps in the eastern | Tunes sweetest his love-laboured song; clime

now reigns Advancing, sowed the earth with orient Full-orbed the Moon, and with more pleaspearl,

ing light When Adam waked, so customed .... Shadowy sets off the face of things; in vain,

If none regard : Heaven wakes with all

He, with voice Mild as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes, Whom to behold but thee, Nature's desire ? Eve's hand soft touching, whispered thus : In whose sight all things joy, with ravishAwake,

ment My fairest, my espoused, my latest found, Attracted by thy beauty still to gaze.' Heaven's last, best gift, my ever new de- I rose, as at thy call, but found thee not; light!

To find thee I directed then my walk; Awake; the morning shines, and the fresh And on, methought, alone I passed through field

ways Calls us; we lose the prime, to mark how That brought me on a sudden to the tree spring

Of interdicted knowledge: fair it seemed,Our tended plants,—how blows the citron Much fairer to my fancy than by day: grove, —

And, as I wondering looked, beside it stood What drops the myrrh, and what the One shaped and winged like one of those balmy reed,

from Heaven How nature paints her colours,—how the By us oft seen; his dewy locks distilled bee

Ambrosia : on that tree he also gazed : Sits on the bloom extracting liquid sweet." And, 'O fair plant,' said he, 'with fruit Such whispering waked her, but with surcharged ! startled eye

Deigns none to ease thy load, and taste On Adam; whom embracing, thus she spake: thy sweet,

Nor God, nor Man? is knowledge so deEVE RELATES HER DREAM.

spised ? O sole in whom my thoughts find all Or envy, or what reserve, forbids to taste ? repose,

Forbid who will, none shall from me withMy glory, my perfection ! glad I see

hold Thy face, and morn returned; for I this Longer thy offered good; why else set here?' night,

This said, he paused not, but with ventur(Such night till this I never passed,) have ous arm dreamed,

He plucked,-he tasted: me damp horror (If dreamed,) not, as I oft am wont, of thee, chilled Works of day past, or morrow's next design; At such bold words vouched with a dieed But of offence and trouble, which my so bold; mind

But he thus, overjoyed : 'O fruit divine ! Knew never till this irksome night. Me- Sweet of thyself, but much more sweet thought,

thus cropt! Close at mine ear, one called me forth to Forbidden here, it seems, as only fit walk

For gods, yet able to make gods of men : With gentle voice; I thought it thine : it And why not gods of men, since good, tho

said, ‘Why sleep'st thou, Eve? now is the plea- Communicated, more abundant grows, sant time,

The author not impaired, but honoured The cool, the silent, save where silence more? yields

Here, happy creature, fair angelic Eve, To the night-warbling bird, that now awake | Partake thou also; happy though thou art,


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