"Who, that surveys this span of earth we press,—
"This speck of life in time's great wilderness,
"This narrow isthmus 'twixt two boundless seas,
The past, the future, two eternities !-
"Would sully the bright spot, or leave it bare,
"When he might build him a proud temple there,
“A name, that long shall hallow all its space,
"And be each purer soul's high resting-place?
"But no-it cannot be, that one, whom God
"Has sent to break the wizard Falsehood's rod,—
"A Prophet of the Truth, whose mission draws

Its rights from Heav'n, should thus profane its cause "With the world's vulgar pomps ;-no, no,-I see"He thinks me weak-this glare of luxury "Is but to tempt, to try the eaglet gaze

"Of my young soul-shine on, 'twill stand the blaze !"

So thought the youth ;-but, ev'n while he defied
This witching scene, he felt its witch'ry glide
Through ev'ry sense. The perfume breathing round,
Like a pervading spirit ;-the still sound
Of falling waters, iulling as the song

Of Indian bees at sunset, when they throng
Around the fragrant NILICA, and deep

In its blue blossoms hum themselves to sleep ;*
And music, too-dear music! that can touch
Beyond all else the soul that loves it much-
Now heard far off, so far as but to seem
Like the faint, exquisite music of a dream;
All was too much for him, too full of bliss,
The heart could nothing feel, that felt not this;
Soften'd he sunk upon a couch, and gave
His soul up to sweet thoughts, like wave on wave
Succeeding in smooth seas, when storms are laid;
He thought of ZELICA, his own dear maid,
And of the time when, full of blissful sighs,
They sat and look'd into each other's eyes,
Silent and happy-as if God had giv'n

Naught else worth looking at on this side heav'n.

I shall again kiss off the soul-felt tears,

“And find those tears warm as when last they started,

Those sacred kisses pure as when we parted.

"O my own life!-why should a single day,
"A ment keep me from those arms away?"
While thus he thinks, still nearer on the breeze
Come those delicious, dream-like harmonies,
Each note of which but adds new, downy links
To the soft chain in which his spirit sinks.
He turns him tow'rd the sound, and far away
Through a long vista, sparkling with the play
Of countless lamps,-like the rich track which Day
Leaves on the waters, when he sinks from us,
So long the path, its light so tremulous ;—
He sees a group of female forms advance,
Some chain'd together in the mazy dance
By fetters, forged in the green sunny bow'rs,
As they were captives to the King of Flow'rs ;†
And some disporting round, unlink'd and free,
Who seem'd to mock their sisters' slavery;
And round and round them still, in wheeling flight
Went, like gay moths about a lamp at night;

My Pandits assure me that the plant before us (the Nilica) is their Cephalica, thus named because the bees are supposed to sleep on its blossoms."-Sir W. Jones.

"They deferred it till the King of Flowers should send his throne of enamelled foliage. The Bahardanush

While others waked, as gracefully along
Their feet kept time, the very soul of song
From psalt'ry, pipe, and lutes of heav'nly thrill,
Or their own youthful voices, heav'nlier still.
And now they come, now pass before his eye,
Forms such as Nature moulds, when she would vie
With Fancy's pencil, and give birth to things
Lovely beyond its fairest picturings.
Awhile they dance before him, then divide,
Breaking, like rosy clouds at even-tide
Around the rich pavilion of the sun,-
Till silently dispersing, one by one,

Through many a path that from the chamber leads
To gardens, terraces, and moonlight meads,
Their distant laughter comes upon the wind,
And but one trembling nymph remains behind-
Beck'ning them back in vain, for they are gone,
And she is left in all that light alone;
No veil to curtain o'er her beauteous brow,
In its young bashfulness more beauteous now;
But a light golden chain-work round her hair,*
Such as the maids of YEZDT and SHIRAS wear,
From which, on either side, gracefully hung
A golden amulet in the Arab tongue,
Engraven o'er with some immortal line
From Holy Writ, or bard scarce less divine;
While her left hand, as shrinkingly she stood,

Held a small lute of gold and sandal-wood,

Which, once or twice, she touch'd with hurried strain, Then took her trembling fingers off again.

But when at length a timid glance she stole

At AZIM, the sweet gravity of soul

She saw through all his features calm'd her fear,
And, like a half-tamed antelope, more near,

Though shrinking still, she came ;-then sat her down
Upon a musnud'st edge, and, bolder grown,
In the pathetic mode of ISFAHAN§

Touch'd a preluding strain, and thus began :—

There's a bower of roses by BENDEMEER'S|| stream,
And the nightingale sings round it all the day long;
In the time of my childhood 'twas like a sweet dream,
To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song.

That bower and its music I never forget,

But oft when alone, in the bloom of the year,
I think--is the nightingale singing there yet?
Are the roses still bright by the calm BENDEMEER?

No, the roses soon wither'd that hung o'er the wave, But some blossoms were gather'd, while freshly they shone,

And a dew was distill'd from their flowers, that gave
All the fragrance of summer when summer was gone.

Thus memory draws from delight, ere it dies,
An essence that breathes of it many a year;
Thus bright to my soul, as 'twas then to my eyes,
Is that bower on the banks of the calm BENDEMEER!

"Poor maiden!" thought the youth," if thou wert sen "With thy soft lute and beauty's blandishment, "To wake unholy wishes in this heart, "Or tempt its troth, thou little know'st the art. "For though thy lip should sweetly counsel wrong, "Those vestal eyes would disavow its song. "But thou hast breathed such purity, thy lay "Returns so fondly to youth's virtuous day; "And leads thy soul-if e'er it wander'd thence"So gently back to its first innocence, "That I would sooner stop the unchain'd dove,

"One of the head-dresses of the Persian women is composed of a light golden chain-work, set with small pearls, with a thin gold plate pen dent, about the bigness of a crown-piece, on which is impressed an Ara bian prayer, and which hangs upon the cheek below the ear."-Han way's Travels.

Certainly the women of Yezd are the handsomest women in Persia The proverb is, that to live happy a man must have a wife of Yezd, eat the bread of Yezdecas, and drink the wine of Shiraz."-Tavernier. Musnuds are cushioned seats usually reserved for persons of distinc tion. The Persians, like the ancient Greeks, call their musical modes of Perdas by the names of different countries or cities, as the modef Infa han, the mode of Irak, &c. A river which flows near the ruins of Chilminar.

"When swift returning to its hon e of love,
"And round its snowy wing new etters twine,
"Than turn from virtue one pure wish of thine!"

Scarce had this feeling pass'd, when, sparkling through
The gently open'd curtains of light blue
That veil'd the breezy casement, countless eyes,
Peeping like stars through the blue evening skies,
Look'd laughing in, as if to mock the pair
That sat so still and melancholy there:-
And now the curtains fly apart, and in
From the cool air, 'mid showers of jessamine
Which those without fling after them in play,
Two ligi tsome maicens spring,--lightsome as the
Who live in th' air on odours,—and around
The bright saloon, scarce conscious of the ground,
Chase one another, in a varying dance
Of mirth and languor, coyness and advance,
Too eloquently like love's warm pursuit :-
While she, who sung so gently to the lute
Her dream of home, steals timidly away,
Shrinking as violets do in summer's ray,-
But takes with her from AzIM's heart that sigh,
We sometimes give to forms that pass us by
In the world's crowd, too lovely to remain,
Creatures of light we never see again!

Around the white necks of the nymphs who danced
Hung carcanets of orient gems, that glanced
More brilliant than the sea-giass glitt'ring o'er
The hills of crystal on the Caspian shore ;*
While from their long, dark tresses, in a fall
Of curls descending, bells as musical

As those that, on the golden-shafted trees
Of EDEN, shake in the eternal breeze,†

Rung round their steps, at ev'ry bound more sweet,
As 'twere th' ecstatic language of their feet.

At length the chase was o'er, and they stood wreath'd
Within each other's arms; while soft there breathed
Through the cool casement, mingled with the sighs
Of moonlight flow'rs, music that seem'd to rise
From some still lake, so liquidly it rose;
And, as it swell'd again at each faint close,
The ear could track, through all that maze of chords
And young sweet voices, these impassion'd words:

A SPIRIT there is, whose fragrant sigh

Is burning now through earth and air;
Where cheeks are blushing, the Spirit is nigh,
Where lips are meeting, the Spirit is there!

His breath is the soul of flow'rs like these,
And his floating eyes-oh! they resemblet
Blue water-lilies, when the breeze

Is making the stream around them tremble.

Hail to thec, hail to thee, kindling pow'r !
Spirit of Love, Spirit of Bliss!
Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour,

And there never was moonlight so sweet as this.

By the fair and brave

Who blushing unite, Like the sun and wave,

When they meet at night;

By the tear that shows
When passion is nigh,
As the rain-drop flows

From the heat of the sky;

By the first love-beat

Of the youthful heart,

"To the north of us (on the coast of the Caspian, near Badku) was a mountain, which sparkled like diamonds, arising from the sea-glass and crystals with which it abounds."-Journey of the Russian Ambassador to Persia, 1746.

To which will be added the sound of the bells, hanging on the trees, which will be put in motion by the wind proceeding from the throne of God, as often as the blessed wish for music."-Sale.

Whose wanton eyes resemble blue water-lilies, agitated by the Dreeze."-Jayadeva. The blue lotus, which grows in Cashmere and in Persia

By the bliss to meet,
"And the pain to part;

By all that thou hast
To mortals given,
Which-oh, could it last,
This earth were heaven.

We call thee hither, entrancing Power!
Spirit of Love! Spirit of Bliss!

Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour,
And there never was moonlight so sweet as this.

Impatient of a scene, whose lax'ries stole,

Spite of himself, too deep into his soul,

And where, 'midst all that the young heart loves most,
Flow'rs, music, smiles, to yield was to be lost,
The youth had started up, and turn'd away
From the light nymphs, and their luxurious lay,
To muse upon the pictures that hung round,-*
Bright images, that spoke without a sound,
And views, like vistas into fairy ground.
But here again new spells came o'er his sense:—
All that the pencil's mute omnipotence
Could call up into life, of soft and fair,
Of fond and passionate, was glowing there;
Nor yet too warm, but touch'd with that fine art
Which paints of pleasure but the purer part;
Which knows ev'n Beauty when half-veil'd is best,-
Like her own radiant planet of the west,
Whose orb when half-retired looks loveliest.1
There hung the history of the Genii-King,
Traced through each gay, voluptuous wandering
With her from SABA's bowers, in whose bright eyes
He read that to be blest is to be wise ;-
Here fond ZULEIKAS woos with open arms
The Hebrew boy, who flies from her young charms,
Yet, flying, turns to gaze, and, half undone,
Wishes that Heav'n and she could both be won;
And here MOHAMMED, born for love and guile,
Forgets the Koran in his MARY's smile ;-
Then beckons some kind angel from above
With a new text to consecrate their love.||

With rapid step, yet pleased and ling'ring eye, Did the youth pass these pictured stories by, And hasten'd to a casement, where the light Of the calm moon came in, and freshly bright The fields without were seen, sleeping as still As if no life remain'd in breeze or rill. Here paused he, while the music, now less near, Breathed with a holier language on his ear, As though the distance, and that heav'nly ray Through which the sounds came floating, took away All that had been too earthly in the lay.

Oh! could he listen to such sounds unmoved, And by that light-nor dream of her he loved?

*It has been generally supposed that the Mahometans prohibit all pictures of animals; but Toderini shows that, though the practice forbidden by the Koran, they are not more averse to painted figures and images than other people. From Mr. Murphy's work, too, we find that the Arabs of Spain had no objection to the introduction of figures into painting.

This is not quite astronomically true. "Dr. Hadley (says Keil) has shown that Venus is brightest when she is about forty degrees renoved from the sun; and that then but only a fourth part of her lucid disk is to be seen from the earth."

For the loves of King Solomon (who was supposed to preside over the whole race of Genii) with Balkis, the Queen of Sheba or Saba, ste D'Herbelot, and the Notes on the Koran, chap. 2.

"In the palace which Solomon ordered to be built against the arrival of the Queen of Sabu, the floor or pavement was of transparent glass, laid over running water, in which fish were swimming.' This led the Queen into a very natural mistake, which the Koran has not thought beneath its dignity to commemorate. "It was said unto her, Enter the palace. And when she saw it she imagined it to be a great water; and ste dis covered her legs, by lifting up her robe to pass through it. Whereupor Solomon said to her, Verily, this is the place evenly floored with glass."-Chap. 27.

$ The wife of Potiphar, thus named by the Orientals.

The passion which this frail beauty of antiquity conceived for he young Hebrew slave has given rise to a much esteemed poem in the Persian language, entitled Yusef vau Zelikka, by Noureddin Jami: the manuscript copy of which, in the Bodleian Library at Oxford, is supposed to be the finest in the whole world."--Note upon Nott's Translation of Hafez.

The particulars of Mahomet's amour with Mary, the Copuc girl, in justification of which he added a new chapter to the Koran, may b found in Gagnier's Notes upon Abulfeda, p. 151.

Dream on, unconscious boy! while yet thou mayst; ·
Tis the last bliss thy soul shall ever taste.
Clasp yet awhile her image to thy heart,
Ere all the light, that made it dear, depart.
Think of her smiles as when thou saw'st them last,
Clear, beautiful, by naught of earth o'ercast;
Recall her tears, to thee at parting giv'n,
Pure as they weep, if angels weep, in Heav'n.
Think, in her own still bower she waits thee now,
With the same glow of heart and bloom of brow,
Yet shrined in solitude-thine all, thine only,
Like the one star above thee, bright and lonely.
Oh! that a dream so sweet, so long enjoy'd,
Should be so sadly, cruelly destroy'd!

The song is hush'd, the laughing nymphs are flown,
And he is left, musing of bliss, alone;—
Alone?-no, not alone-that heavy sigh,

That sob of grief, which broke from some one nigh—
Whose could it be?-alas! is misery found
Here, even here, on this enchanted ground?
He turns, and sees a female form, close veil'd,
Leaning, as if both heart and strength had fail'd,
Against a pillar near;-not glitt'ring o'er

With gems and wreaths, such as the others wore,
But in that deep-blue, melancholy dress,*
BOKHARA's maidens wear in mindfulness
Of friends or kindred, dead or far away;-
And such as ZELICA had on that day

He left her when, with heart too full to speak,
He took away her last warm tears upon his cheek.

A strange emotion stirs within him,-more
Than mere compassion ever waked before;
Unconsciously he opes his arms, while she
Springs forward, as with life's last energy,
But, swooning in that one convulsive bound,
Sinks, ere she reach his arms, upon the ground;—
Jer veil falls off-her faint hands clasp his knees-
Tis she herself!-'tis ZELICA he sees!
But, ah, so pale, so changed-none but a lover
Could in that wreck of beauty's shrine discover
The once-adored divinity-ev'n he

Stood for some moments mute, and doubtingly
Put back the ringlets from her brow, and gazed
Upon those lids, where once such lustre blazed,
Ere he could think she was indeed his own,
Own darling maid, whom he so long had known
In joy and sorrow, beautiful in both;
Who, ev'n when grief was heaviest-when loth
He left her for the wars-in that worst hour
Sat in her sorrow like the sweet night-flow'r,t
When darkness brings its weeping glories out,
And spreads its sighs like frankincense about.

"Look up, my ZELICA-One moment show 'Those gentle eyes to me, that I may know Thy life, thy loveliness is not all gone, "But there, at least, shines as it ever shone. "Come, look upon thy Azıм--one dear glace, "Like those of old, were heav'n! whateve. chance Hath brought thee here, oh, 'twas a blessed one! There-my loved lips-they move-that kiss hath run "Like the first shoot of life through every vein, "And now I clasp her, mine, all mine again. "Oh the delight-now, in this very hour, "When, had the whole rich world been in my pow'r, "I should have singled out thee, only thee, "From the whole world's collected treasury"To have the here-to hang thus fondly o'er "My own, heat, purest ZELICA once more!"

It was indeed the touch of those fond lips
Upon her eyes that chased their short eclipse,
And, gradual is the snow, at Heaven's breath,
Melts off and shows the azure flow'rs beneath,
Her lids unclosed, and the bright eyes were seen

Gazing on his-not, as they late had been,
Quick, restless, wild, but mournfully serene;
As if to lie, ev'n for that tranced minute,
So near his heart, had consolation in it;
And thus to wake in his beloved caress
Took from her soul one half its wretchedness.
But, when she heard him call her good and pure,
Oh, 'twas too much-too dreadful to endure.
Shudd'ring she broke away from his embrace,
And, hiding with both hands her guilty face,
Said, in a tone whose anguish would have riv'n
A heart of very marble, "Pure!-oh Heav'n!"

That to ne-tl ose looks so changed-the withering

blight,

That sin and sorrow leave where'er they light;
The dead despondency of those sunk eyes,
Where once, had he thus met her by surprise,
He would have seen himself, too happy boy,
Reflected in a thousand lights of joy;
And then the place,--that bright, unholy place,
Where vice lay hid beneath each winning grace
And charm of lux'ry, as the viper weaves
Its wily cov'ring of sweet balsam leaves,-*
All struck upon his heart, sudden and cold
As death itself;-it needs not to be wid
No, no-he sees it all, plain as the brand

Of burning shame con mark-whate'er the hand
That could from Heav'n and him such brightness sever
'Tis done-to Heav'n and him she's lost forever!

It was a dreadful moment; not the tears,

The ling'ring, lasting misery of years

Could match that minute's anguish-all the worst

Of sorrow's elements in that dark burst

Broke o'er his soul, and, with one crash of fate,

Laid the whole hopes of his life desolate.

"Oh! curse me not," she cried, as wild he toss'd

His desp'rate hand tow'rds Heav'n-" though I am lost "Think not that guilt, that falsehood made me fall, "No, no-'twas grief, 'twas madness did it all! "Nay, doubt me not--though all thy love hath ceased-. "I know it hath—yet, yet believe, at least, "That every spark of reason's light must be "Quench'd in this brain, ere I could stray from thee "They told me thou wert dead-why, Azım, why "Did we not, both of us, that instant die "When we were parted? oh! couldst thou but know "With what a deep devotedness of wo "I wept thy absence-o'er and o'er again "Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew pain, “And mem'ry, like a drop that, night and day, "Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away; "Didst thou but know how pale I sat at home, "My eyes still turn'd the way thou wert to come, "And, all the long, long night of hope and fear, Thy voice and step still sounding in my ear"Oh God! thou wouldst not wonder that, at last, "When every hope was all at once o'ercast, "When I heard frightful voices round me say, "Azim is dead!-this wretched brain gave way. " 'And I became a wreck, at random driven, "Without one glimpse of reason or of Heav'n"All wild-and even this quenchless love within "Turn'd to foul fires to light me into sin!— "Thou pitiest me--I knew thou wouldst-that sky "Hath naught beneath it half so lorn as I. "The fiend, who lured me hither-hist! come near, "Or thou too, thou art lost, if he should hear— "Told me such things-oh! with such dev'lish art, "As would have ruin'd ev'n a holier heart"Of thee, and of that ever-radiant sphere, "Where bless'd at length, if I but served him here, "I should forever live in thy dear sight,

"Concerning the vipers, which Pliny says were frequent among the balsam-trees, I made very particular inquiry; several were brought me alive both to Yambo and Jidda."-Bruce.

"Thou weep'st for me-do weep-oh, that I durst "Kiss off that tear!-but, no-these lips are curst, "They must not touch thee;-one divine caress, "One blessed moment of forgetfulness

"I've had within those arms, and that shall lie "Shrined in my soul's deep mem'ry till I die; "The last of joy's last relics here below, "The one sweet drop, in all this waste of wo, My heart has treasured from affection's spring, "To sooth and cool its deadly withering!

66

By the remembrance of our once pure love, "Which, like a church-yard light, still burns above The grave of our lost souls-which guilt in thee "Cannot extinguish, nor despair in me! I do conjure, implore thee to fly hence"If thou hast yet one spark of innocence, Fly with me from this place-"

"With thee! oh bliss! ""Tis worth whole years of torment to hear this. 04 What! take the lost one with thee?-let her rove "By thy dear side, as in those days of love, "When we were both so happy, both so pure?"Too heav'nly dream! if there's on earth a cure For the sunk heart, 'tis this-day after day "To be the blest companion of thy way; "To hear thy angel eloquence-to see "Those virtuous eyes forever turn'd on me; "And, in their light re-chasten'd silently, "Like the stain'd web that whitens in the sun, "Grow pure by being purely shone upon! "And thou wilt pray for me-I know thou wilt"At the dim vesper hour, when thoughts of guilt "Come heaviest o'er the heart, thou'lt lift thine eyes, "Full of sweet tears, unto the dark'ning skies,

And plead for me with Heav'n, till I can dare To fix my own weak, sinful glances there; "Till the good angels, when they see me cling "Forever near thee, pale and sorrowing, "Shall for thy sake pronounce my soul forgiven, "And bid thee take thy weeping slave to Heav'n! "Oh yes, I'll fly with thee

Scarce had she said These breathless words, when a voice deep and dread As that of MONKER, waking up the dead From their first sleep-so startling 'twas to bothRung through the casement near, "Thy oath ! thy oath!" Oh Heav'n! the ghastliness of that Maid's look!— ""Tis he," faintly she cried, while terror shook Her inmost core, nor durst she lift her eyes,

With all that strength which madness lends the weak, She flung away his arm; and with a shriek, Whose sound, though he should linger out more years Than wretch e'er told, can never leave his ears, Flew up through that long avenue of light, Fleetly as some dark, ominous bird of night, Across the sun, and soon was out of sight!

LALLA ROOKH Could think of nothing all day but the misery of these two young lovers. Her gayety was gone, and she looked pensively even upon FADLADEEN. She felt, too, without knowing why, a sort of uneasy pleasure in imagining that Azim must have been just such a youth as FERAMORZ; just as worthy to enjoy all the blessings, without any of the pangs, of that illusive passion which too often, like the sunny apples of Istkahar,* is all sweetness on one side, and all bitterness on the other.

As they passed along a sequestered river after sunset, they saw a young Hindoo girl upon the bank,† whose employment seemed to them so strange, that they stopped their palankeens to observe her. She had lighted a small lamp filled with oil of cocoa, and placing it in an earthen dish, adorned with a wreath of flowers, had committed it with a trembling hand to the stream; and was now anxiously watching its progress down the current, heedless of the gay cavalcade which had drawn up beside her. LALLA ROOKH was all curiosity;-when one of her attendants, who had lived upon the banks of the Ganges, (where this ceremony is so frequent that often, in the dusk of the evening, the river is seen glittering all over with lights like the Oton-Tala, or Sea of Stars,) informed the Princess that it was the usual way in which the friends of those who had gone on dangerous voyages offered up vows for their safe return. If the lamp sunk immediately, the omen was disastrous; but if it went shining down the stream, and continued to burn till entirely out of sight, the return of the beloved object was considered as certain.

LALLA ROOKH, as they moved on, more than once looked back to observe how the young Hindoo's lamp proceeded; and while she saw with pleasure that it was still unextinguished, she could not help fearing that ali the hopes of this life were no better than that feeble light upon the river. The remainder of the journey was passed in silence. She now, for the first time, felt that shade of melancholy which comes over the youthful maiden's heart, as sweet and transient as her own breath upon a mirror; nor was it till she heard the lute of FERAMORZ touched lightly at the door of her pavilion, that she waked from the revery in which she had been wandering. Instantly her eyes were lighted up with pleasure; and after a few unheard remarks from FADLADEEN upon the indecorum of a poet seating himself in the presence of a Princess, every thing was arranged as on the preceding evening, and all listened with eagerness while the story was thus continued:-

Whose are the gilded tents that crowd the way

And moonlight fields were seen, calm as before

""Tis he, and I am his-all, all is o'er

Go-fly this instant, or thou'rt ruin'd too

My oath, my oath, oh God! 'tis all too true, "True as the worm in this cold heart it is"I am MOKANNA's bride-his, Azim, his-"The Dead stood round us while I spoke that vow, "Their blue lips echo'd it-I hear them now! "Their eyes glared on me while I pledged that bowl, ""Twas burning blood-I feel it in my soul! "And the Veil'd Bridegroom-hist! I've seen to-night What angels know not of-so foul a sight, "So ho rible-oh! never mayst thou see "What there lies hid from all but hell and me

This City of War which, in a few short hours, Hath sprung up here,§ as if the magic powers

"In the territory of Istkabar there is a kind of apple, half of which is sweet and half sour."-Ebn Haukal.

1 For an account of this ceremony, see Grandpré's Voyage in the indian Ocean.

The place where the Whangho, a river of Thibet, rises, and where there are more than a hundred springs which sparkle like stars: whence it is called Hotun-nor, that is, the Sea of Stars."-Description of Thibet in Pinkerton.

The Lescar or Imperial Camp is divided, like a regular town, into squares, alleys, and streets, and from a rising ground furnishes one of tra most agreeable prospects in the world. Starting up in a few hours in an uninhabited plain, it raises the idea of a city built by enchantment. Even those who leave their houses in cities to follow the prince in Its progress are frequently so el armed with the Lescar, when situated in a beauufol and convenient place, that they cannot prevail with themar ves to re

Of Him who, in the twinkling of a star,
Built the high pillar'd halls of Chilminar,*
Had conjured up, far as the eye can see,

This world of tents, and domes, and sun-bright armory:
Princely pavilions, screen'd by many a fold

Of crimson cloth, and topp'd with balls of gold:
Steeds, with their housings of rich silver spun,
Their chains and poitrels glitt'ring in the sun;
And camels tufted o'er with Yemen's shells,t
Shaking in every breeze their light-toned bells!

But yester-eve, so motionless around,
So mute was this wide plain, that not a sound
But the far torrent, or the locust bird

Hunting among the thickets, could be heard ;-
Yet hark! what discords now, of ev'ry kind,
Shouts, laughs, and screams, are revelling in the wind;
The neigh of cavalry ;-the tinkling throngs
Of laden camels and their drivers' songs;—§
Ringing of arms, and flapping in the breeze
Of streamers from ten thousand canopies ;-
War-music, bursting out from time to time,
With gong and tymbalon's tremendous chime;
Or, in the pause, when harsher sounds are mute,
The mellow breathings of some horn or flute,
That far off, broken by the eagle note
Of th' Abyssinian trumpet,|| swell and float.

Who leads this mighty army ?-ask ye "who?"
And mark ye not those banners of dark hue,
The Night and Shadow,¶ over yonder tent ?—
It is the CALIPH's glorious armament.
Roused in his Palace by the dread alarms,
That hourly came, of the false Prophet's arms,
And of his host of infidels, who hurl'd
Defiance fierce at Islam** and the world,—
Though worn with Grecian warfare, and behind
The veils of his bright Palace calm reclined,
Yet brook'd he not such blasphemy should stain,
Thus unrevenged, the evening of his reign;
But, having sworn upon the Holy Gravett
To conquer or to perish, once more gave
His shadowy banners proudly to the breeze,
And, with an army nursed in victories,
Here stands to crush the rebels that o'er-run
His blest and beauteous Province of the Sun.

Ne'er did the march of MAHADI display Such pomp before ;-not ev'n when on his way TO MECCA'S Temple, when both land and sea Were spoil'd to feed the Pilgrim's luxury ;‡‡

move. To prevent this inconvenience to the court, the Emperor, after suficient time is allowed to the tradesmen to follow, orders them to be burnt out of their tents."-Dow's Hindostan.

Colonel Wilks gives a lively picture of an Eastern encampment :"He camp, like that of most Indian armies, exhibited a motley collection of covers from the scorching sun and dews of the night, variegated according to the taste or means of each individual, by extensive enclosures of coloured calico surrounding superb suites of tents; by ragged clothes or blankets stretched over sticks or branches; palm-leaves hastily spread over similar supports; handsome tents and splendid canopies; horses, oxen, elephants, and camels; all intermixed without any exterior mark of order or design, except the flags of the chiefs, which usually mark the centres of a congeries of these masses; the only regular part of the encampment being the streets of shops, each of which is constructed nearly in the manner of a booth at an English fair."-Histori cal Sketches of the South of India.

The edifices of Chilminar and Balbec are supposed to have been built by the Genii, acting under the orders of Jan ben Jan, who governed the world long before the time of Adam.

A superb camel, ornamented with strings and tufts of small shells." -Ali Bey.

A native of Khorassan, and allured southward by means of the water of a fountain between Shiraz and Ispahan, called the Fountain of Birds, of which it is so fond that it will follow wherever that water is carried.

When round him, 'mid the burning sands, he saw
Fruits of the North in icy freshness thaw,
And cool'd his thirsty lip, beneath the glow

Of MECCA's sun, with urns of Persian snow:-
Nor e'er did armament more grand than that
Pour from the kingdoms of the Caliphat.
First, in the van, the People of the Rock,t
On their light mountain steeds, of royal stock :t
Then, chieftains of DAMASCUS, proud to see
The flashing of their swords' rich marquetry;—§
Men, from the regions near the VOLGA's mouth,
Mix'd with the rude, black archers of the South;
And Indian lancers, in white-turban'd ranks,
From the far SINDE, or ATTOCK's sacred banks,
With dusky legions from the Land of Myrrh,||
And many a mace-arm'd Moor and Mid-sea islander

Nor less in number, though more new and rude
In warfare's school, was the vast multitude
That, fired by zeal, or by oppression wrong'd,
Round the white standard of th' impostor throng'
Beside his thousands of Believers-blind,
Burning and headlong as the Samiel wind-
Many who felt, and more who fear'd to feel
The bloody Islamite's converting steel,

Flock'd to his banner;-Chiefs of th' UZBEK race,
Waving their heron crests with martial grace;
TURKOMANS, Countless as their flocks, led forth
From th' aromatic pastures of the North;
Wild warriors of the turquoise hills,**-and those
Who dwell beyond the everlasting snows
Of HINDOO KOSH,†† in stormy freedom bred,
Their fort the rock, their camp the torrent's bed.
But none, of all who own'd the Chief's command,
Rush'd to that battle-field with bolder hand,
Or sterner hate, than IRAN's outlaw'd men,
Her Worshippers of Firett-all panting then
For vengeance on th' accursed Saracen ;
Vengeance at last for their dear country spurn'd,
Her throne usurp'd, and her bright shrines o'erturn'd
From YEZD's§§ eternal mansion of the Fire,
Where aged saints in dreams of Heav'n expire:
From BADKU, and those fountains of blue flame
That burn into the CASPIAN, fierce they came,
Careless for what or whom the blow was sped,
So vengeance triumph'd, and their tyrants bled

Such was the wild and miscellaneous host, That high in air their motley banners toss'd Around the Prophet-Chief-all eyes still bent Upon that glittering Veil, where'er it went, That beacon through the battle's stormy flood, That rainbow of the field, whose showers were blood!

Twice hath the sun upon their conflict set, And risen again, and found them grappling yet; While streams of carnage in his noontide blaze Smoke up to Heav'n-hot as that crimson haze,

*Nivem Meccam apportavit, rem ibi aut nunquam aut raro visam.— Abulfeda.

The inhabitants of Hejaz or Arabia Petræa, called by an Eastern writer. The People of the Rock."-Ebm Haukal.

"Those horses, called by the Arabinns Kochlani, of whom a writ ten genealogy has been kept for 2000 years. They are said to derive Vieir origin from King Solomon's steeds."-Niebuhr.

Many of the figures on the blades of their swords are wrought in gold or silver, or in marquetry with small gems."-Asiat. Misc. v. i. Azab or Saba.

The chiefs of the Uzbek Tartars wear a plume of white heron's feathers in their turbans."Account of Independent Tartary. ** In the mountains of Nishapour and Tous (in Khorassan) they find turquoises.-Ebn Haukal.

For a description of these stupendous ranges of mountains, see El

The Ghebers or Guebres, those original natives of Persia who ad hered to their ancient faith, the religion of Zorcaster, and who, after the conquest of their country by the Arabs, were either perset uted at home, or forced to become wanderers abroad.

$5 Yezd, the chief residence of those ancient natives, who worship the Sun and the Fire, which latter they have carefully kept lighted, without being once extinguished for a moment, about 3000 years, on a mountain near Yezd, called Ater Quedah, signifying the House or Mansion of the Fire. He is reckoned very unfortunate who dies off that mountain."-Stephen's Persia.

When the weather is hazy, the springs of Naphtha (on an island near Buku) boil up the higher, and the Naphtha often takes fire on the surface of the earth, and runs in a flame into the sea to a distance ali 200 incredible."— Manway on the Everlasting Fire at Baku.

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