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Though profoundly ignorant of his meaning, I agreed to his proposition, the result of which I shall disclose to thee in another letter.
Fare thee well, dear Asem; in thy pious prayers to oùr great prophet, never forget to solicit thy friend's return; and when thou numberest up the many blessings bestowed on thee by all-bountiful Allah, pour forth thy gratitude that he has cast thy nativity in a land where there is no assembly of legislative chatterers;—no great bashaw, who bestrides a gun-boat for a hobby-horse;where the word economy is unknown;-and where an unfortunate captive is not obliged to call upon the whole nation to cut him out a pair of breeches.
THOUGH enter'd on that sober age,
And, like that pilgrim, who retreats
When the sad thought pervades his mind,
'Twas joy we looked for in my prime, That idol of the olden time; When all our pastimes had the art To please, and not mislead the heart. Style oursed us not,—that modern flash, That love of racket and of trash; Which scares at once all feeling joys, And drowns delight in empty noise; Which barters friendship, mirth and truth, The artless air, the bloom of youth, And all those gentle sweets that swarm Round nature in their simplest form, For cold display, for hollow state, The trappings of the would-be-great.
Oh! once again those days recall, When heart met heart in fashion's hall; When every honest guest would flock To add his pleasure to the stock, More fond his transports to express Than show the tinsel of his dress! These were the times that clasp'd the soul In gentle friendship's soft controul;
Our fair ones, unprofaned by art,
How oft I breathe the inward sigh, And feel the dew-drop in my eye, When I behold some beauteous frame, Divine in every thing but name, Just venturing, in the tender age, On fashion's late new-fangled stage! Where soon the guiltless heart shall cease To beat in artlessness and peace; Where all the flowers of gay delight With which youth decks its prospects bright, Shall wither 'mid the cares, the strife, The cold realities of life!
Thus lately in my careless mood,
Twin rose-buds, bursting into bloom,
They seem'd, just entering hand in hand, To cautious tread this fairy land ; To take a timid hasty view, Enchanted with a scene so new. The modest blush, untaught by 'art, Bespoke their purity of heart; And every timorous act unfurld Two souls unspotted by the world.
Oh, how these strangers joy'd my sight,
Oh! my romance of youth is past-
Full soon I found the lovely pair
The fair resign'd the calm retreat, Where first their souls in concert beat, And flew on expectation's wing, To sip the joys of life's gay spring; To sport in fashion's splendid maze, Where friendship fades, and love decays. So two sweet wild flowers, near the side Of some fair river's silver tide, Pure as the gentle stream that laves The green banks with its lucid waves, Bloom beauteous in their native ground, Diffusing heavenly fragrance round; But should a vent'rous hand transfer These blossoms to the gay parterre, Where, spite of artificial aid, The fairest plants of nature fade, Though they may shine supreme awhile 'Mid pale ones of the stranger soil, The tender beauties soon decay, And their sweet fragrance dies away. Blest spirits ! who, euthron'd in air, Watch o'er the virtues of the fair, And with angelic ken survey Their windings through lifo's chequer'd way. Who hover round them as they glide