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AN ORIENTAL POEM.

In Two Cantos.

Written at Fifteen Years Old.

“Let those who rule on Persia’s jewell’d throne,

“Be fam’d for love, and gentlest love alone,

“Or twine, like Abbas, full of fair renown,

“The lover’s myrtle with the warrior’s crown.”

Collins’s Oriental Eclogues.

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’Tis eve, and bright through Caymyr’s fragrant trees

Spread Ismael’s banners to the wanton breeze;

O’er martial camps, and trophied armour blue,

The rising moon-beams cast a silvery hue;

Lull’d is each ruder wind, so hush’d, and calm,

That not a leaf is mov’d on yonder palm,

Save by the soft, sweet breeze that now floats by,

Like the faint meltings of a lover’s sigh;

And the lone bulbul[4], on that beauteous tree, Pours out her strains of purest melody;10 And many a flow’r, that shuns day’s fervid glow, Puts forth its modest, fragrant beauties now; And the high heav’ns smile so sublimely fair, The eye might think to waft the spirit there; While yonder clouds, that o’er the mountain roll’d, Have caught the sun’s last parting glance of gold, And seem to glory in their splendid hue, Give to the heav’ns around a brighter blue. But the rich beauties of that sacred still, With war’s rude mingled sounds are suited ill20 With clang of arms, loud shouting, and rough swell Of rousing trumpet, and of clashing zel[5]; It breaks the balm divine, that breathes around, That else might pour its healing in the wound Of rack’d Despair, and Murder’s self awhile, Of its soul-withering agony beguile.