"What should be-thine heart's dew. Remember'st

thou

When to the Altar, by thy father reared,

We suppliant went with sacrifice and vow,
A victim-dove escaped? and there appeared

"And would have brought thee others to supply
Its loss, a Median?-thou, dissolved, to praise,
Didst note the beauty of his shape and eye,
And, as he parted, in the sunny rays

"The ringlets of his black locks clustering bright Around his pillar-neck," 'tis pity he'

Thou saidst, in all the comeliness and might

Of perfect man-pity like him, should be

'But an idolater: how nobly sweet

He tempereth pride with courtesy; a flower
Drops honey when he speaks. Yet 'twere most meet
To praise his majesty: he stands—a tower.'

"The same, a false idolater no more,

Now bows him to the God, for whose dread ire
Fall'n on us loved but sinning, we deplore

This long but just captivity. Thy sire

"Receives him well and harkens his request For know, he comes to ask thee-for a bride And to be one among a people, blest

Tho' deep in suffering. Nor to him denied

"Art thou, sad daughter-weep-if't be thy willE'vn on the breast that nourished thee and ne'er Distrest thee or compelled; this bosom still

Ev'n should'st thou blight its dearest hopes, will share

"Nay, bear thy pains; but sooner in the grave
'Twill quench my waning years, if reckless thou
Of what I not command, but only crave,
Let my heart pine regardless of thy vow.
7.99

XXV.

She thus, Oh think not, kindest, I forget,
Receiving so much love, how much is due
From me to thee: the Mede I'll wed-but yet

I cannot stay these tears that gush to pain thy view.'

XXVI.

Sephora held her to heart, the while

Grief had its way-then saw her gently laid
And bade her, kissing her blue eyes, beguile
Slumbering the fervid noon. Her leafy bed

Sighed forth o'erpowering breath; increased the heat;
Sleepless had been the night; her weary sense
Could now no more. Lone in the still retreat,
Wounding the flowers to sweetness more intense,

She sank. 'Tis thus, kind Nature lets our woe
Swell 'til it bursts forth from the o'erfraught breast;
Then draws an opiate from the bitter flow,
And lays her sorrowing child soft in the lap of rest.

XXVII.

Now all the mortal maid lies indolent

Save one sweet cheek which the cool velvet turf Had touched too rude, tho' all with blooms besprent, One soft arm pillowed. Whiter than the surf

That foams against the sea-rock, looked her neck,
By the dark, glossy, odorous shrubs relieved,
That close inclining o'er her seemed to reck
What 'twas they canopied; and quickly heaved

Beneath her robe's white folds and azure,zone,
Her heart yet incoinposed; a fillet thro'
Peeped brightly azure, while with tender moan
As if of bliss, Zephyr her ringlets blew

4

Sportive;-about her neck their gold he twined,
Kissed the soft violet on her temples warm,

And eye brow-just so dark might well define
Its flexile arch;-throne of expression's charm.

XXVIII.

As the vexed Caspian, tho' its rage be past
And the blue smiling heavens swell o'er in peace,

Shook to the centre, by the recent blast,

Heaves on tumultuous still, and hath not power to cease.

So still each little pulse was seen to throb
Tho' passion and its pains were lulled to rest,
And "even and anon" a pitious sob

Shook the pure arch expansive o'er her breast.*

XXIX.

Save that 'twas all tranquillity; that reigned
O'er fragrance sound and beauty; all was mute-
Save where a dove her dear one's absence plained
And the faint breeze mourned o'er the slumberer's lute.

* This effect is very observable in little children, who for several hours after they have cried themselves to sleep, and sometimes even when a smile is on their lips, are heard, from time to time, to

utter sobs.

XXX.

It chanced, that day, lured by the verdure, came
Zophiel, now minister of ill; but ere

He sinned, a heavenly angel. The faint flame
Of dying embers, on an altar, where

Raguel, fair Egla's sire, in secret vowed
And sacrificed to the sole living God,

Where friendly shades the sacred rites enshroud ;--(2)
The fiend beheld and knew; his soul was awed,

And he bethought him of the forfeit joys
Once his in Heaven ;-deep in a darkling grot
He sat him down ;-the melancholy noise

Of leaf and creeping vine accordant with his thought.

XXXI.

When fiercer spirits, howled, he but complained (3)
Ere yet 'twas his to roam the pleasant earth,
His heaven-invented harp he still retained
Tho' tuned to bliss no more; and had its birth

Of him, beneath some black infernal clift
The first drear song of woe; and torment wrung
The spirit less severe where he might lift

His plaining voice-and frame the like as now he sung: