Gleaming o'er yellow sands? Beneath the lofty bank reclined, With idle eye he views its little waves, While in the breathings of the stirring gale, The tall canes bend above, Floating like streamers in the wind Their lank uplifted leaves. Nor rich, nor poor, was Moath; God hath given Camels that knew his voice, And home-birds, grouping at Oneiza's call, And goats that, morn and eve, Came with full udders to the damsel's hand. Dear child! the tent beneath whose shade they dwelt It was her work; and she had twined His girdle's many hues; And he had seen his robe Grow in Oneiza's loom. How often with a memory-mingled joy Which made her mother live before his sight, He watch'd her nimble fingers thread the woof! "Tis the cool evening hour: The tamarind from the dew Sheathes its young fruit, yet green. The old man's solemn voice Intones the holy book. What if beneath no lamp-illumined dome, Their Father is their Priest, The Stars of Heaven their point of prayer, And the blue Firmament The glorious Temple, where they feel The present Deity. Yet through the purple glow of eve Shines dimly the white moon. The slacken'd bow, the quiver, the long lance, Rest on the pillar of the tent. Knitting light palm-leaves for her brother's brow, The dark-eyed damsel sits; The old man tranquilly Up his curl'd pipe inhales The tranquillising herb. So listen they the reed of Thalaba, While his skill'd fingers modulate The low, sweet, soothing, melancholy tones. Or if he strung the pearls of poesy, Singing with agitated face And eloquent arms, and sobs that reach the heart, A tale of love and woe; Then, if the brightening moon that lit his face, In darkness favour'd hers, Oh! even with such a look, as fables say, The Mother Ostrich fixes on her egg, Till that intense affection Kindle its light of life, Even in such deep and breathless tenderness So motionless, with such an ardent gaze, She wipes away the swelling tears That dim his image there. She call'd him Brother; was it sister-love For which the silver rings, Round her smooth ankles and her tawny arms, Shone daily brighten'd? for a brother's eye Were her long fingers tinged, As when she trimm'd the lamp, And through the veins and delicate skin The light shone rosy? that the darken'd lids That with such pride she trick'd Their waves of glossy jet? How happily the days Of Thalaba went by! Years of his youth, how rapidly ye fled! SUNLIGHT ON THE OCEAN. TO BARDSEY was the Lord of Ocean bound; Of Ocean treads the venerable shore. There was not, on that day, a speck to stain The azure heaven; the blessed sun alone In unapproachable divinity Career'd, rejoicing in his fields of light. How beautiful beneath the bright blue sky Save where along the bending line of shore Assumes its proudest tint of amethyst, Embathed in emerald glory. All the flocks Of Ocean are abroad; like floating foam A summer feeling; even the insect swarms Seem'd now as though it had no cause to mourn ... Smiled in that joyful sunshine, they partook The universal blessing. |