Its thrilling visions scintillate Its tender truths reverberate In woman's music sigh. "Tis like that ray of witching light That gleams at even-fall, So radiant, yet so mildly bright, It harmonizes all. Thus sweetly are thy numbers wove, My gentle theorist, But if you'd practically love, "Twould illustrate your text. THE ZUNGEED TREE. "The Zungeed, (a species of willow,) has leaves of a silvery hue, and the flowers, which are of a deep scarlet, send forth a delicious perfume. When in blossom, the Zungeed is viewed by the Persians with a jealous eye,* from a belief that it has a strong tendency to excite the love-thoughts of the gentler sex, whom they accordingly lock up (Mon Dieu, quel horreur) while the flower is in bloom." "Tis done! 'tis done! Ah! let me find some way To tell the mighty joy that fills my breast, Lest I grow mad with height of furious bliss." O HASTE thee, ever-dearest, Ever-dearest, haste to me— The pale-eyed moon, shall light us soon, Whose boughs, with pearls weeping, To veil from sight, this tender night, * The married gentlemen, I conclude. But other arms, my dearest, Shall gird thee in their hold The Zungeed tree, may wave o'er thee, 'Tis mine that must infold Thy cheek, love, shall out-blush it, While rapture-sighs, shall trembling rise, Our Zungeed tree, my dearest, "Twill spread for thee its canopy, And while the stars are keeping And hearts beat high, and lips are nigh, Thou com'st-thou com'st, my Peri, Thy voice is on the breeze; The bulbul ne'er could woo the air, And moon and star, go shine afar A night of bliss is ours.* * I refer the curious and inquisitive in Persian history, to the Nizam al Tow arikh, by Abou Saied Abdallah ben Almouelli, as well as to the Tarikh Nizam al Molk, or Seiaset wa Seir al Molouk; the latter written Anno Hegiræ 485, (A. D. 1092). TO AGNES. "Then, in return, I swear to Heaven and you, "So I can talk, and laugh, and seem 'Twas morn, and the rose-buds their beauties disclosing, No breeze kiss'd the woodbine, yet still 'twere in motion, Its tremulous leaves lent their sighs to the air; 'Twas alike to the even-tide trance of the ocean, If breath'd on its bosom the lips of the fair. Attun'd to such scenes was my heart's warmest feeling, Each redolent shrub now luxuriantly shone; |