1. Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle

Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime, Where the rago of the vulture, the love of the turtle,

Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime ? Know ye the land of the cedar and vine, Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine ; Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppress'd with perfume, Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gul (') in her bloom; Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit, And the voice of the nightingale never is mute : Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky In colour though varied, in beauty may vie, And the purple of Ocean is deepest in dye ; Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine, And all, save the spirit of man, is divine ? "Tis the clime of the East; 'tis the land of the Sun Can he smile on such deeds as his children have done ? ("} Oh! wild as the accents of lovers' farewell Are the hearts which they bear, and the tales which they tell


Begirt with many a gallant slave,
Apparell'd as becomes the brave,
Awaiting each his lord's behest
To guide his steps, or guard his rest,
Old Giaffir salo in his Divan :

Deep thought was in his aged eye;
(1) Gúl," the rose.
(2) “ Souls made of fire, and children of the Sun.
With whom revenge is virtue."

Young's Revenge

And though the face of Mussulman

Not oft betrays to standers by
The mind within, well skill'd to hide
All but unconquerable pride,
His pensive cheek and pondering brow
Did more than he was wont avow.


« Let the chamber be cleard.” — The train disappeared –

“ Now call me the chief of the Haram guard."
With Giaffir is none but his only son,
And the Nubian awaiting the sire's award.

6 Haroun - when all the crowd that wait
Are pass'd beyond the outer gate,
(Woe to the head whose eye

My child Zuleika's face unveil'd !)
Hence, lead my daughter from her tower;
Her fate is fix'd this


Yet not to her repeat my thought;
By me alone be duty taught!"
“'Pacha! to hear is to obey."
No more must slave to despot say
Then to the tower had ta’en his way,
But here


Selim silence brake,
First lowly rendering reverence meet;
And downcast look’d, and gently spake,

Still standing at the Pacha's feet :
For son of Moslem must expire,
Ere dare to sit before his sire !

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" Father ! for fear that thou shouldst chide

My sister, or her sable guide,
Know — for the fault, if fault there be,
Was mine, then fall thy frowns on me —
So lovelily the morning shone,

That let the old and weary sleep
I could not; and to view alone

The fairest scenes of land and deep,
With none to listen and reply
To thoughts with which my heart beat high
Were irksome for whate'er my mood,
In sooth I love not solitude ;
I on Zuleika's slumber broke,

And, as thou knowest that for me
Soon turns the Haram's grating key,

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Before the guardian slaves awoke
We to the cypress groves had flown,
And made earth, main, and heaven our own!
There linger'd we, beguiled too long
With Mejnoun's tale, or Sadi's song : (')
Till I, who heard the deep tambour (°)
Beat thy Divan's approaching hour,
To thee, and to my duty true,
Warn’d by the sound, to greet thee flew :
But there Zuleika wanders yet —
Nay, Father, rage not -- nor forget
That none can pierce that secret bower
But those who watch the women's tower."

“Son of a slave" — the Pacha said —

“ From unbelieving mother bred,
Vain were a father's hope to see
Aught that beseems a man in thee.
Thou, when thine arm should bend the bow

And hurl the dart, and curb the steed,

Thou, Greek in soul if not in creed,
Must pore where babbling waters flow,
And watch unfolding roses blow.
Would that yon orb, whose matin glow
Thy listless cyes so much admire,
Would lend thee something of his fire !
Thou, who would'st see this battlement
By Christian cannon piecemeal rent;
Nay; tamely view old Stambol's wall
Before the dogs of Moscow fall,
Nor strike one stroke for life and death
Against the curs of Nazareth !
Go - let thy less than woman's hand
Assume the distaff — not the brand.
But, Haroun ! - to my daughter speed :
And hark — of thine own head take heed
If thus Zuleika ost takes wing-
Thou see'st yon bow it hath a string 1"



No sound from Selim's lip was heard,

At least that met old Giaffir's ear, (1) Mejnoun and Leila, the Romeo and Juliet of the East. Sadi, the moral post of Persia.

(2) Tambour Turkish drum, which sounds at sunrise, noon, and twilight,

But every frown and every word
Pierced keener than a Christian's sword :

“ Son of a slave! — reproach'd with fear!
Those gibes had cost another dear.
Son of a slave ! - and who my sire ? "

Thus held his thoughts their dark career ;
And glances ev'n of more than ire

Flash forth, then faintly disappear.
Old Giaffir gazed upon his son

And started; for within his eye
He read how much his wrath had done ;
He saw rebellion there begun :

66 Come hither, boy what, no reply?
I mark thee and I know thee too ;
But there be deeds thou dar'st not do :
But if thy beard had manlier length,
And if thy hand had skill and strength,
I'd joy to see thee break a lance,
Albeit against my own perchance."
As sneeringly these accents fell,
On Selim's eye he fiercely gazed :

That eye return'd him glance for glance,
And proudly to his sire's was raised,

Till Giuffir's quail'd and shrunk askance
And why – he felt, but durst not tell.
“ Much' I misdoubt this wayward boy
Will one day work me more annoy:
I never loved him from his birth,
And — but his arm is little worth,
And scarcely in the chase could cope
With timid fawn or antelope,
Far less would venture into strife
Where man contends for fame and life
I would not trust that look or tone :
No - nor the blood so near my own.
That blood -- he hath not heard -
I'll watch him closer than before.
He is an Arab (") to my sight,
Or Christian crouching in the fight-
But hark!—I hear Zuleika's voice ;

Like Houris' hymn it meets mine ear :
She is the offspring of my choice ;

Oh! more than ev'n her mother dear, (1) Tho Turks abhor the Arabs (who return the compliment a hundred fold) epon more than they hate the Christians.

no more

With all to hope, and nought to fear
My Peri! ever welcome here !
Sweet as the desert fountain's wave
To lips just cool'd in time to save —

Such to my longing sight art thou ;
Nor can they waft to Mecca's shrine
More thanks for life, than I for thine,

Who blest thy birth, and bless thee now."

Fair, as the first that fell of womankind,

When on that dread yet lovely serpent smiling,
Whose image then was stamp'd upon her mind

But once beguiled — and ever more beguiling;
Dazzling, as that, oh! too transcendent vision

To Sorrow's phantom-peopled slumber given,
When heart meets heart again in dreams Elysian,

And paints the lost on Earth revived in Heaven ;
Soft, as the memory of buried love ;
Pure, as the prayer which Childhood wafts above;
Was she — the daughter of that rude old Chief,
Who met the maid with tears but not of grief.


Who had not proved how feebly words essay
To fix one spark of Beauty's heavenly ray?
Who doth not feel, until his failing sight
Faints into dimness with its own delight,
His changing cheek, his sinking heart confess
The might - the majesty of Loveliness?
Such was Zuleika — such around her shone
The nameless charms unmark'd by her alone
The light of love, the purity of grace,
The mind, the Music breathing from her face, (')
The heart whose softness harmonized the whole

And, oh! that eye was in itself a Soul ! (1) This expression has met with objections. I will not refer to “ Him who hath not music in his soul,” but merely request the reader to recollect, for ten seconds, the features of the woman whom he believes to be the most beautiful; and, if he then does not comprehend fully what is feebly expressed in the above line, I shall

sorry for us both. For an eloquent passage in the latest work of the first female writer of this, perhaps of any, age, on the analogy (and the immediate comparison excited by that analogy,), between painting and music," 800 vol. iii. cap. 10. DE L'ALLEMAGNE. And is not this connexion still stronger with the original than the copy? With the colouring of Nature than of Art ? After all, this is rather to be felt than den scribed ; still I think there are some who will understand it, at least they would have done, had they beheld the countenance whose speaking harmony suggested the idea : for this passage is not drawn from imagination but memory, that mirror which Affliction dashes to the earth, and looking down upon the fragments, only be holds the 10flertion multiplied !

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