Thy form is ever in my sight,
In thought by day, in dreams by night;
For one, in spirits sad and broken,
That mole would be the happiest token;
That mole which adds to every look
A magic spell I cannot brook;
For he who sees thy melting charms,
And does not feel his soul in arms,
Bursting with passion, rapture, all
That speak love's deepest, wildest thrall,
Must be, as Kâf's ice-summit, cold,
And, haply, scarce of human mould.
Let him, unmoved by charms like thine,
His worthless life at once resign-
Those lips are sugar, heavenly sweet;
O let but mine their pouting meet!
The balsam of delight they shed;
Their radiant colour ruby-red.
The Evil eye has struck my heart,
But thine in beauty sped the dart :
Thus many a flower, of richest hue,
Hath fall'n and perish'd where it grew;
Thy beauty is the sun in brightness,
Thy form a Peri's self in lightness;
A treasure thou, which, poets say,
The heavens would gladly steal away
Too good, too pure, on earth to stay!
As morning broke, the sun, with golden light,
Eclipsed the twinkling stars of silvery white;
And Majnún, rising, eagerly pursued
The path which wound to Laili's solitude,
Grieved to the heart; and, as he went along,
His lips breathed softly some impassion'd song;
Some favorite lay, which tenderly express'd
The present feeling of his anxious breast.
In fancy soon her image he beheld;
No shadowy cloud her lucid beauty veil'd;
He saw her fresh as morning's scented air-
Himself exhausted by incessant care:
He saw her blooming as the blushing rose-
Himself dejected by unnumber'd woes:
He saw her like an angel soft and bland—
Himself consuming like a lighted brand:
Her ringlets flowing loosely to the ground,
His ringlets, fetters by affection bound;
And still, all faint with grief, he pass'd his days,
Pouring his soul out in melodious lays.
His friends, to whom his griefs are known.
His altered aspect now bemoan;
Alarm'd to hear the sufferer still
In frantic mood unceasing fill
The night-breeze with his plaintive woes;
For sorrow with indulgence grows.
They try to soothe his wilder'd mind,
Where reason once was seen enshrined;
His father, with a father's love,
Sought his sad sorrows to remove,
And gave him maxims full and clear,
And counsel meet for youth to hear.
But, though good counsel and advice
May often lead to Paradise,
When love has once the heart engross'd,
All counsel, all advice is lost;
And weeping Majnún not a word
Of his poor father's counsel heard,
Ah! when did prudence e'er control
The frenzy of a love-lorn soul?
Disconsolate the father now
Behind the Harem-screen appears,
Inquiring of his females how
He best might dry the maniac's tears ; And what had drawn the sparkling moon
Of intellect from him so soon.
The answer of the old and young
Was ready, quivering on the tongue
His fate is fix'd-his eyes have seen
The charms of his affection's queen
In all their winning power display'd;
His heart a captive to that Arab maid.
Then what relief canst thou supply?
What to the bleeding lover, doom'd to die?
What but fulfilling his desires?
And this a father's generous aid requires.
See them united in the bands of love;
And that alone his frenzy will remove."
These words (for woman's words convey
A spell, converting night to day,
Diffuse o'er troubled life a balm,
And passion's fiercest fever calm)—
These words relieve the father's heart,
And comfort to his thoughts impart.
Resolved at once, he now with speed
Marshals his followers, man and steed;
And, all assembled, bends his way
To the damsel's home, without delay.
Approaching, quick the enquiry rose-
"Come ye hither as friends or foes?
Whatever may your errand be.
That errand must be told to me;
For none, unless a sanction'd friend,
Can pass the boundary I defend."
This challenge touch'd Syd Omrï's pride :
And yet he calmly thus replied,
'I come in friendship, and propose
All future chance of feud to close."
Then to the maiden's father said,--
"The nuptial feast may now be spread:
My son with thirsty heart has seen
Thy fountain pure with margin green;
And every fountain, clear and bright,
Gives to the thirsty heart delight.
That fountain he demands. With shame,
Possess'd of power, and wealth, and fame,
I to his silly humour bend,
And humbly seek his fate to blend
With one inferior. Need I tell
My own high lineage, known so well?
If sympathy my heart incline,
Or vengeance, still the means are mine.
Treasure and arms can amply bear
Me through the toils of desert-war ;
But thou'rt the merchant, pedlar-chief,
And I the buyer; come, sell,-be brief!
If thou art wise, accept advice;
Sell, and receive a princely price!"
The sire of Lailí mark'd his haughty tone, But smoothly answer'd,-" Not on us alone
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