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When young and haply pure as thou,
I looked and prayed 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 guiltless 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 ! O, is it not thus, thou man of sin,

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

One heavenly drop hath dispelled them all!”
And now - behold him kneeling there
By the child's side, in humble prayer,
While the same sunbeam shines upon
The guilty and the guiltless one,
And hymns of joy proclaim through Heaven
The Triumph of a soul Forgiven!
'Twas when the golden orb had set,
While on their knees they lingered yet,
There fell a light, more lovely far
Than ever came from sun or star,
Upon the tear that, warm and meek,
Dewed that repentant sinner's cheek :
To mortal eye this light might seem
A northern flash or meteor beam-
But well the enraptured 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 passed, and Heaven is won!
O! am I not happy? I am, I am –

To thee, sweet Eden! how dark and sad
Are the diamond turrets of Shadukiam,

And the fragrant bowers of Amberabad ! “Farewell, ye odors of Earth, that die, Passing away like a lover's sigh;

My feast is now of the Tooba Tree,
Whose scent is the breath of Eternity!

“Farewell, ye vanishing flowers, that shone

In my fairy wreath, so bright and brief, -
O! what are the brightest that'e'er have blown,
To the lote-tree, springing by Alla’s Throne,

Whose flowers have a soul in every leaf!
Joy, joy forever! my task is done -
The Gates are passed, and Heaven is won!”

279. 'TIS THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER.

'Tis the last rose of summer

Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions

Are faded and gone;
No flower of her kindred,

No rose-bud, is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes,

Or give sigh for sigh.

I'll not leave thee, thou lone one!

To pine on the stem;
Since the lovely are sleeping,

Go, sleep thou with them.
Thus kindly I scatter

Thy leaves o'er the bed,
Where thy mates of the garden

Lie scentless and dead.

So soon may I follow,

When friendships decay,
And from Love's shining circle

The gems drop away!
When true hearts lie withered,

And fond ones are flown,
O! who would inhabit

This bleak world alone?

280. FORGET NOT THE FIELD.

Forget not the field where they perished,
The truest, the last of the brave,

and the bright hope we cherished Gone with them, and quenched in their grave!

All gone

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!”
The glorious Angel, who was keeping
The gates of Light, beheld her weeping!
And, as he nearer drew and listened
To her sad song, a tear-drop glistened
Within his eyelids, like the spray

From Eden's fountain, when it lies
On the blue flower, which – Bramins say.

Blooms nowhere but in Paradise !
“Nymph of a fair but erring line!”
Gently he said — “One hope is thine,
'Tis written in the Book of Fate,

The Peri yet may be forgiven Who brings to this Eternal gate

The Gift that is most dear to Heaven ! Go seek it, and redeem thy sin 'Tis sweet to let the Pardoned in!”

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Cheered 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,
That fluttered round the jasmine stems,
Like wingéd flowers or flying gems :-
And, near the boy, who tired 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 Aling him down to drink. Then swift his haggard brow he turned

To the fair child, who fearless sat,
Though never yet hath day-beam burned

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 ruined maid the shrine profaned -
Oaths broken - and the threshold stained
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
Softened 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

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 the 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! O, 'twas a sight - that Heaven - that Child A scene, which might have well beguiled 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 blesséd child!

When young and haply pure as thou,
I looked and prayed 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 guiltless 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 ! O, is it not thus, thou man of sin,

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

One heavenly drop hath dispelled them all!”
And now – - behold him kneeling there
By the child's side, in humble prayer,
While the same sunbeam shines upon
The guilty and the guiltless one,
And hymns of joy proclaim through Heaven
The Triumph of a soul Forgiven!
'Twas when the golden orb had set,
While on their knees they lingered yet,
There fell a light, more lovely far
Than ever came from sun or star,
Upon the tear that, warm and meek,
Dewed that repentant sinner's cheek :
To mortal eye this light might seem
A northern flash or meteor beam-
But well the enraptured 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 passed, and Heaven is won!
O! am I not happy? I am, I am -

To thee, sweet Eden! how dark and sad
Are the diamond turrets of Shadukiam,

And the fragrant bowers of Amberabad ! “Farewell, ye odors of Earth, that die, Passing away like a lover's sigh;

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