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And where, in brightest hues of nature drest,

Circassia's beauties bind the swelling breast.
Thence Persia he surveys, which boasts no more

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,
By Rocnabad, in Mosellara's bower,

The bird of evening wooes the blushing flower.
But Syrian nymphs had glow'd with gentle flame,
E'er since Adonis moy'd the Cyprian dame :

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,
To rough Circassia's fair high-bosom'd maids:
While the sweet bird in Mosellara's bower,
That trills his love-song to the blushing flower,
Well skill'd infectious softness to impart,

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:

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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;
While all thy echoes mirth and joy repeat,

And every breeze diffuses balmy sweet;
Has never yet thy stately stream survey'd
Of pure and spotless mind one lovely maid?
Must fond desire in each fair bosom reign,
And love, with life, still beat in ev'ry vein ?
A dervise, at Bagdad who pass'd his days,
Had won of so much sanctity the praise,
That where he mov'd, the swarming city pour'd
Her people forth, and with fond zeal ador❜d.

It chanced that, mounted on a courser fair,
And all his anxious soul engross'd with care,

The monarch slowly pass'd along the road,
Where round the dervise pray'd the prostrate crowd,
And pass'd unheeding. With offended mind

The dervise saw, and dark revenge design'd.

And soon through all the city rumours spread;
Suspicion points to wrath the stranger's head.

The gathering storm Mobarrek mark'd, and knew
From what slight cause the threaten'd mischief grew.

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,
The glitt'ring gifts the yielding dervise views:
The gifts, the suppliant lord, his wrath control,
And soon the banquet opens all his soul.

He learns the strange pursuit, and laughing cries,
Thou seek'st in truth, my son, no vulgar prize,
"But bring the nuptial gift, Bagdad the bride supplies.

"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
From her the mirror brighter lustre drew.
His rank acknowledged, and a dowry paid,
Worthy a kingdom, he obtains the maid.
But scarce the bride has enter'd at his gate,
When messengers, on high affairs of state,
Demand his instant presence. Royal care
Perforce thus tears him from th' espoused fair.
Mobarrek must the blooming queen escort,
With splendid train to high Bassora's court.
Far spreads the pompous march. On either side
Well-order'd horse display their martial pride.
Unhappy maid! who vainly deem'st the ray

Of rising morn shall those fair scenes display,

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