Succeed: or rising o'er the enraptured crowd
The bard spontaneous sings his wild romance;
Or chants the dervise of the martyr'd sons
Of Ali; or of Zemzem, gelid well,
Which burst for Hagar through the burning sand.
Then sings of saints and califs, and the stone
Of holy Mecca; then with curses loads
The race of Othman and his tottering throne,
And crescent sinking in a troubled sky.
Yet more they love to hear of him, whose seal Controlled the labouring Genii, and whose spells Raised o'er his hidden gold the column'd piles, Balbec or Estachar: or of the sword
Of Rustan; or of warriors borne o'er seas,
And Caf's bleak deserts, in the griffin claw
Of Simorg, bird enormous; or of isles
With emerald leaves and ruby fruits adorned,
Or caves illumined by the flame innate
Of carbuncles, or Irem's magic bowers
And palaces secured from mortal view.
Nor ever doth the Arabian Muse forget
The woes of love, and Majnun's hapless tale.
What feud of hostile tribes, what adverse star
Could drive him from his Laila ?-O'er his arms
And naked body like a mantle flow
The streaming ringlets wild: no sandals sheath
His tortured feet; and in his hair are twined
Thorns of the desert: on his brow the fiend
Of madness hath his habitation fixed,
And bound the oblivious shadow round his head:
Relentless flame, and Laila's vision track
His footsteps; with unconscious eye he views
The shade, and hospitable tent; the dog
Caresses him in vain; the timid foal
In distant circuits prints the rising sand;
Far o'er the waste, a solitary speck,
He roams; but not unpitied by the Muse;
She weeps the wretch in bondage to the curse
Of unappeased desire; inebriate
With woe; whose front is flame, whose eye despair.
The gazel too, whom once he loved, pursues His feet, sole partner of his pain, and oft Kisses his drooping hand; oft on his face Looks piteous, mute drops stealing from her eye; "Follow no more," he cries "the woeful track
"Of one abandoned: turn; thy mistress calls; "Turn; for the fountains and the flowery vale, "Thy kindred fawns await thee; they who ne'er "Chased thee away, ungrateful and unkind; "Ne'er drove thee frenzied to the howling blast. "With me thou perishest; no food have I "For thee; no rest, no joy :-the pain of love "For Laila is sufficient :-welcome then, "Ye burning sands, ye crags untrod by man, "Ye whirling tempests of the naked plain, "Ye spirits of the desart!-hark! they call; "Away!" he cries, and as he speaks returns His footsteps to the wild; he runs and marks With blood the flints, with tears the thorny path. But not unpitied by the Arabian Muse He roves, a monarch in the realms of Love.
HE airy ship at anchor rides;
Proudly she heaves her painted sides
Impatient of delay;
And now her silken form expands,
She springs aloft, she bursts her bands,
She floats upon her way.
How swift! for now I see her sail
High mounted on the viewless gale,
And speeding up the sky;
And now a speck in ether tost,
A moment seen, a moment lost,
She cheats my dazzled eye.
Bright wonder! thee no flapping wing,
No labouring oar, no bounding spring,
Urged on thy fleet career:
By native buoyancy impelled,
Thy easy flight was smoothly held
Along the silent sphere.
No curling mist at closing light,
No meteor on the breast of night,
No cloud at breezy dawn,
No leaf adown the summer tide
More effortless is seen to glide,
Or shadow o'er the lawn.
Yet thee, e'en thee, the destined hour
Shall summon from thy airy tower
Rapid in prone descent;
Methinks I see thee earthward borne
With flaccid sides that droop forlorn,
The breath etherial spent.
Thus daring Fancy's pen sublime,
Thus Love's bright wings are clipped by Time;
Thus Hope, her soul elate,
Exhales amid this grosser air;
Thus lightest hearts are bowed by care,
And Genius yields to Fate.
From Poems by the Hon. WILLIAM ROBERT SPENcer.
HEN midnight o'er the moonless skies
Her pall of transient death has spread,
When mortals sleep, when spectres rise,
And nought is wakeful but the dead;
No bloodless shape my way pursues,
No sheeted ghost my couch annoys,
Visions more sad my fancy views,
Visions of long-departed joys!
The shade of youthful hope is there,
That lingered long, and latest died;
Ambition all dissolved to air,
With phantom honours at her side.
What empty shadows glimmer nigh!
They once were friendship, truth, and love!
Oh! die to thought, to mem'ry die,
Since lifeless to my heart ye prove!
GOOD-BYE AND HOW-D'YE-DO.
ONE day, Good-bye met How-d'ye-do,
Too close to shun saluting,
But soon the rival sisters flew
From kissing to disputing.
"Away," says How-d'y-do, " your mien
Appals my cheerful nature,
No name so sad as yours is seen
In sorrow's nomenclature.
"Whene'er I give one sunshine hour,
Your cloud comes o'er to fade it;
Where'er I plant one bosom flow'r,
Your mildew drops to fade it.
"Ere How-d'y-do has tun'd each tongue
To hope's delightful measure,
Good-bye in friendship's ear has rung
The knell of parting pleasure!
"From sorrows past my chemic skill
Draws smiles of consolation,
Whilst you from present joys distil
The tears of separation."
Good-bye replied, "Your statement's true,
And well your cause you've pleaded;
But pray, who'd think of How-d'y-do,
Unless Good-bye preceded?
"Without my prior influence
Could yours have ever flourish'd?
And can your hand one flow'r dispense
But those my tears have nourished?
"How oft, if at the court of Love
Concealment be the fashion,
When How-d'y-do has failed to move,
Good-bye reveals the passion!
"How oft, when Cupid's fires decline,
As every heart remembers,
One sigh of mine, and only mine,
Revives the dying embers!
"Go, bid the timid lover choose,
And I'll resign my charter,
If he, for ten kind How-d'y-dos
One kind Good-bye would barter!
"From Love and Friendship's kindred source
We both derive existence,
2 R
And they would both lose half their force Without our joint assistance.
""Tis well the world our merit knows,
Since time, there's no denying,
One half in How-d'y-doing goes,
And t'other in Good-byeing!"
T. C. Hansard, Pater-noster-row Press.
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