structure with exquisite ornaments, foliage, flowers, and gems. He has preferred the myrtle to the olive or the oak. His longer poems want human interest. Tenderness and pathos he undoubtedly possesses; but they are fleeting and evanescent-not embodied in his verse in any tale of melancholy grandeur, or strain of affecting morality or sentiment." His most finished performances are to be found in "Lalla Rookh;" some portions of the "Fire Worshippers" have scarcely been surpassed; and the character of Mokanna, in the "Veiled Prophet of Khorassan," is a “sublime conception sublimely executed."

PARADISE AND THE PERI.

One morn a Peri at the gate
Of Eden stood, disconsolate;
And as she listen'd to the Springs
Of Life within, like music flowing,
And caught the light upon her wings

Through the half-opened portal glowing,
She wept to think her recreant race
Should e'er have lost that glorious place!
"How happy," exclaimed this child of air,
"Are the holy spirits who wander there,

'Mid flowers that never shall fade or fall:
Though mine are the gardens of earth and sea,
And the stars themselves have flowers for me,
One blossom of Heaven outblooms them all!
"Though sunny the lake of cool Cashmere,
With its plane-tree isle reflected clear,1

And sweetly the founts of that valley fall;
Though bright are the waters of Sing-su-hay,
And the golden floods that thitherward stray,2
Yet-oh, 'tis only the blest can say

How the waters of Heaven outshine them all!

"Go wing thy flight from star to star,
From world to luminous world, as far

As the universe spreads its flaming wall;
Take all the pleasures of all the spheres,
And multiply each through endless years,

One minute of Heaven is worth them all!"

Numerous small islands emerge from the Lake of Cashmere. One is called Char Chenaur, from the plane-trees upon it."

Forster.

"The Altan Kol, or Golden River of Tibet, which runs into the Lakes of Sing-su-hay, has abundance of gold in its sauds, which employs the inhabitants all summer in gathering it."

Description of Tibet in Pinkerton,

Now, upon Syria's land of roses!
Softly the light of eve reposes,
And, like a glory, the broad sun
Hangs over sainted Lebanon;

Whose head in wintry grandeur towers,
And whitens with eternal sleet,
While summer, in a vale of flowers,
Is sleeping rosy at his feet.

To one who look'd from upper air
O'er all the enchanted regions there,
How beauteous must have been the glow,
The life, the sparkling from below!
Fair gardens, shining streams, with ranks
Of golden melons on their banks,
More golden where the sun-light falls;
Gay lizards, glittering on the walls?
Of ruin'd shrines, busy and bright,
As they were all alive with light;-
And, yet more splendid, numerous flocks
Of pigeons, settling on the rocks,
With their rich restless wings, that gleam
Variously in the crimson beam

Of the warm west-as if inlaid
With brilliants from the mine, or made
Of tearless rainbows, such as span
Th' unclouded skies of Peristan.
And then, the mingling sounds that come,
Of shepherd's ancient reed,3 with hum
Of the wild bees of Palestine,

Banqueting through the flowery vales;-
And, Jordan, those sweet banks of thine,
And woods so full of nightingales!
But naught can charm the luckless Peri;
Her soul is sad-her wings are weary-
Joyless she sees the sun look down
On that great temple, once his own,
Whose lonely columns stand sublime,
Flinging their shadows from on high,
Like dials, which the wizard, Time,
Had rais'd to count his ages by!

Yet haply there may lie conceal'd

Beneath those Chambers of the Sun,

Richardson thinks that Syria had its name from Suri, a beautiful and delicate species of rose for which that country has been always famous; hence, Suristan, the Land of Roses.

"The number of lizards I saw one day in the great court of the Temple of the Sun, at Balbec, amounted to many thousands; the ground, the walls, and stones of the ruined buildings were covered with them."

Bruce.

"The Syrinx, or Pan's pipe, is still a pastoral instrument in Syria." The Temple of the Sun at Balbec.

Russel.

Some amulet of gems anneal'd
In upper fires, some tabret seal'd

With the great name of Solomon,
Which, spell'd by her illumin'd eyes,
May teach her where, beneath the moon,
In earth or ocean lies the boon,

The charm that can restore so soon,
An erring spirit to the skies!

Cheer'd by this hope she bends her thither ;-
Still laughs the radiant eye of Heaven,
Nor have the golden bowers of even
In the rich west begun to wither;-
When, o'er the vale of Balbec, winging
Slowly, she sees a child at play,
Among the rosy wild flowers singing,
As rosy and as wild as they;
Chasing, with eager hands and eyes,
The beautiful blue damsel-flies,1

That flutter'd round the jasmine stems,
Like winged flowers or flying gems;-
And, near the boy, who, tir'd with play,
Now nestling 'mid the roses lay,
She saw a wearied man dismount

From his hot steed, and on the brink
Of a small imaret's rustic fount

Impatient fling him down to drink.

Then swift his haggard brow he turned
To the fair child, who fearless sat,
Though never yet hath day beam burn'd
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;
The ruin'd maid-the shrine profan'd-
Oaths broken-and the threshold stain'd
With blood of guests-there written, all,
Black as the damning drops that fall
From the denouncing angel's pen,
Ere mercy weeps them out again!

Yet tranquil now that man of crime
(As if the balmy evening time
Soften'd his spirit), looked and lay,
Watching the rosy infant's play :-

Though still, whene'er his eye by chance

Fell on the boy's, its lurid glance

"You behold there a considerable number of a remarkable species of beautiful insects, the elegance of whose appearance and their attire procured for them the name of Damsels."

Sonnini.

Met that unclouded joyous gaze,
As torches that have burnt all night
Through some impure and godless rite,
Encounter morning's glorious rays.

But hark! the vesper-call to prayer,
As slow the orb of daylight sets,
Is rising sweetly on the air,

From Syria's thousand minarets!
The boy has started from the bed
Of flowers, where he had laid his head,
And down upon the fragrant sod

Kneels, with his forehead to the south,
Lisping th' eternal name of God

From purity's own cherub mouth,
And looking, while his hands and eyes
Are lifted to the glowing skies,

Like a stray babe of Paradise,

Just lighted on that flowery plain,

And seeking for its home again!

Oh 'twas a sight-that Heaven-that child

A scene which might have well beguil'd

E'en haughty Eblis of a sigh

For glories lost and peace gone by!

And how felt he, the wretched man,
Reclining there-while memory ran
O'er many a year of guilt and strife,
Flew o'er the dark flood of his life,
Nor found one sunny resting-place,

Nor brought him back one branch of grace!
"There was a time," he said, in mild
Heart humbled tones, "thou blessed child!
When young, and haply pure as thou,
I look'd and pray'd like thee-but now-"
He hung his head-each nobler aim

And hope and feeling, which had slept
From boyhood's hour, that instant came
Fresh o'er him, and he wept-he wept!

Blest tears of soul-felt penitence!
In whose benign redeeming flow
Is felt the first, the only sense

Of guileless joy that guilt can know.

"There's a drop," said the Peri," that down from the moon

Falls through the withering airs of June

Upon Egypt's land,' of so healing a power,

So balmy a virtue, that e'en in the hour

That drop descends, contagion dies,

And health reanimates earth and skies!

The Nucta, or Miraculous Drop, which falls in Egypt, precisely on St. John's day, in June, and is supposed to have the effect of stopping the plague.

Oh, is it not thus, thou man of sin,

The precious tears of repentance fall?
Though foul thy fiery plagues within,

One heavenly drop hath dispell'd them all!
And now-behold him kneeling there
By the child's side, in humble prayer,
While the same sunbeams shine upon
The guilty and the guiltless one,

And hymns of joy proclaim through heaven
The triumph of a soul forgiven.

'T was when the golden orb had set,
While on their knees they linger'd yet,
There fell a light more lovely far
Than ever came from sun or star,
Upon the tear, that, warm and meek,
Dew'd that repentant sinner's cheek:
To mortal eye this light might seem
A northern flash or meteor's beam-
But well the enraptur'd Peri knew
"Twas a bright smile the Angel threw
From heaven's gate, to hail that tear
Her harbinger of glory near!

"Joy, joy forever! my task is done

The gates are pass'd, and heaven is won!"

BELIEVE ME, IF ALL THOSE ENDEARING YOUNG CHARMS.

Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,

Which I gaze on so fondly to-day,

Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my arms,
Like fairy gifts fading away!

Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou art,

Let thy loveliness fade as it will,

And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart
Would entwine itself verdantly still!

It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,
And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear,

That the fervor and faith of a soul can be known,
To which time will but make thee more dear!
Oh! the heart that has truly loved never forgets,
But as truly loves on to the close,

As the sunflower turns on her god, when he sets,
The same look which she turned when he rose !