TO A LADY WEEPING.

BY EBN ALRUMI.

WHEN I beheld thy blue eye shine Through the bright drop that pity drew, I saw beneath those tears of thine

A blue-eyed violet bathed in dew.

The violet ever scents the gale,

Its hues adorn the fairest wreath ;
But sweeter through a dewy veil
Its colors glow, its odors breathe.

And thus thy charms in brightness rise:When wit and pleasure round thee play, When mirth sits smiling in thine eyes,

Who but admires their sprightly ray? But when thro' pity's flood they gleam Who but must love their soften'd beam?

TO SELIMA.

BY ACHMED ARDEBEILI.

TEN thousand tulips bloom in MAVRA's vale,
Ten thousand gems in CORGA's rocks are born,
Ten thousand odors scent the vernal gale,
Ten thousand splendors crown the orient morn.

Ten thousand beauties eagerly conspire
To blend celestial in the Maid I love;
Ten thousand zephyrs fan the fond desire,
And waft her fancied form where'er I rove.

Ten thousand hour-long moments gloom away
In sad anxiety the wakeful night:

Ten thousand rising fears distract the day,
While for her safety all my hopes unite.

As many dark-brow'd guilty terrors scowl
Around the wretch who tore me from her charms,

As many seraphs shield her spotless soul,

Till time restore her to my longing arms.

But vain are blessings-maledictions vain;

DEATH guards yon dire inexorable gate.
HEAVEN guards the just :- shall АCHMED then

complain?

Ten thousand armies cannot vanquish FATE.

VERSES

Addressed by the Khaliph Almoktofi Liamrillah to a Lady, who pretended a Passion for him in his old Age.

THOUGH Such unbounded love you swear,

'Tis only art I see;

Can I believe that one so fair

Should ever doat on me?

Say that you hate, and freely shew
That age displeases youth;

And I may love you, when I know

That you can tell the truth.

THE CONFESSION.

BY ABOU ALY, A CELEBRATED MATHEMATICIAN.

I NEVER knew a sprightly fair

That was not dear to me;

And freely I my heart could share,
With every one I see.

It is not this or that alone

On whom my choice would fall;

I do not more incline to one

Than I incline to all.

The circle's bounding line are they,

It's centre is my heart,

My ready love the equal ray

That flows to every part.

TO SELIMA.

BY ACHMED ARDEBEILI.

FAR from my Selima, my soul's delight,
How cheerless gleams the radiant orb of day!
How gloom the tedious hours of silent night,
As life's dull current sickening wastes away!

For sure, in fate's dark volume yet remains
No lingering curse more cruelly severe

Than that which binds my captive heart in chains,
And dooms it thus to die desponding here.

As the sweet music of the vernal grove
Succeeds the horrors of the wintry storm:
As the fond turtle views his faithful dove
Succeed the ravenous vulture's fearful form:

So shall the hour that brings me to the arms
Of thee, sweet Maid, atone for years of pain,
Ah! while that kindling hope my bosom warms,
The flood of life swells rapturous ev'ry vein.