And where, in brightest hues of nature drest, Circassia's beauties bind the swelling breast. Its antient satraps, and majestic pow'r ; But whose fair echoing vallies still prolong, The joyful sound of revelry and song; While round Shiraz the vine her sparkling juice Pours for the blest inhabitants profuse; And when the rising moon, of ray serene, With softest lustre decks the lovely scene, The bird of evening wooes the blushing flower. b The reader may consult Ellis's Caucasus for an account of a singular custom which prevails among the Circassians, of fixing a ligature below the breasts of the young women, which is not loosed till the day of marriage, when it is cut by the bridegroom. From a similar custom, probably, the loosing of the zone, came to signify among the Greeks and Romans the loss of virginity. c Rocnabad is a river of Persia, which washes the walls of Shiraz, and the gardens of Mosellara. The nightingale is said, by the Oriental Poets, to be enamoured of the Rose, And love had whisper'd in their secret glades, Had touch'd with passion ev'ry virgin heart. As when the seaman whose advent'rous prow, Long months on months, with toil, and pain, and woe, Has plow'd th' immeasurable waves which roll Between the burning line and southern pole, Beholds with anxious breast, and ardent eyes, Incumbent on the deep, a dark shade rise Above the horizon, struggling through the tides, As nearer now his wave-worn vessel rides, He sees a length of hills and mountains spread, Those crown'd with woods, while these the skies invade ; Forelands and promontories high and steep, Lock'd in whose firm embrace the waters sleep; And fir'd with joyful transport at the view, Shouts loud, and calls on deck his fainting crew: Ev'n while he shouts, the faithless shews decay, The fleeting vapours roll dispers'd away : Despair succeeds. Such was the prince's pain, His hope still frustrate, his long labours vain. Bagdad with high dominion crown'd remains Where the lieutenant of the prophet reigns. Viziers and Omrahs, in the lofty gate, Sustain and worship his imperial state. Say, Tigris, while thy lucid waves with pride Reflect the palaces which grace thy side; And every breeze diffuses balmy sweet; It chanced that, mounted on a courser fair, The monarch slowly pass'd along the road, The dervise saw, and dark revenge design'd. And soon through all the city rumours spread; The gathering storm Mobarrek mark'd, and knew Swift to the haughty dervise he repairs, A royal present, gold and gems he bears, And begs his aid, his counsel, and his pray'rs. While prostrate in his master's name he sues, He learns the strange pursuit, and laughing cries, "In yon high palace dwells a matchless fair, 'The vizier's daughter, sweet Nooronihár. 'Nymphs such as she shall make the faithful blest, And pure as angels is her peaceful breast.' He said, and soon, by his officious care, The prince beheld her more than Houries fair, As heavenly spirits pure, for in his view Of rising morn shall those fair scenes display, |