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Whenthoucanstnot the strongfromoppressionrestrain!
I abjure thy religion, I own not thy reign,

I will worship a God I can trust,
To avenge me the cause of the just.

New Monthly Magazine.


OF Ali, we have spoken in our “Preliminary Vi

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It was as beautiful a night

As ever shadow'd earth and sky,
To make the dim remains of light

More loved in that obscurity.
The sea slept stirless on the shore,
Save haply when the dripping oar
Its purple robe with gems besprinkled,
Round which the circling eddies wrinkled.
Young Selim's bark across the flood
Its lone and silent way pursued,
Now broke across the widening gleam
Of pale Phingari's ocean-beam,
Then swiftly o'er the darkling blue,
Awhile invisible, it flew,
Save by the shining track that swept
The wave, and still its lustre kept,
E'en when the boat had reach'd the strand,
And grated on the sloping sand.

You might have traced from Hermon's hill,
As clearly as the sunny rill
Through Emerald vales is seen to wind,
The silvery course that keel had taken ;-
The line, though thin, was yet unshaken;
It seem'd a cable of moon-beams twin'd,
Some spirit's fairy prow to bind.-
Are those the whispers of Autumn's breeze,
As it lures the ripe leaves from the citron trees,
Or is it the hum of the clustering bees,
Thus breaking the silence of midnight's hour
With murmuring music from yon grey tower,
Whence gleams through the lattice a flickering ray,
Like the beacon expiring at break of day?
Oh! no, 'tis the voice of empassioned greeting,
Oft silenced awhile by their soft lips meeting,
For Selim has gain’d the turret's height,

By none but Zella's eye discern'd,
And now e'en the night lamp is hid from the sight

In the shadow of him for whom it burn'd. Though the way was far, and the crag was steep,

And the bower of his beauty the fort of his foe, And his path lay o'er the faithless deep,

Lest a footstep awaken the warder's sleep,
Yet whither did love ever fear to go?
His foot is as fleet as the bounding roe,
And wherever the mountain-goat can climb,

Regardless of the abyss below,
There seems an easy way for him.
And lives there one of Moslem faith
Who would not brave e'en more than death
To win the warm yet pure caresses

Of those fond arms that now are thrown Around his neck, whose ebon tresses

Flow darkly mingling with his own, While still his lip her smooth cheek presses

In rapture but to lovers known? Yes, theirs was joy, but not unmix'd With untold fears of coming sorrow, For on the dread eventful morrow The weal or woe of both was fix'd ;Long ere another sun shall set,

That youthful warrior's meteor-sword
Must with the bosom-stream be wet

Of those high turrets hoary lord :-
Yon battlements, whose friendly shade
Hath ne'er his nightly haunt betray'd,
When, bounding to his beauteous maid,
Their walls were dear to Selim's eyes
As the blest bounds of Paradise,

The first bright glimpse of opening heaven, That greets the Peri as he flies

To his lost home, with sins forgiven, His brand shall give to blackening flame, While crackling beam, and crashing tower, Shall echo through the blissful bower Where late his noiseless foot-step came To love away the moonlight hour. Yet ere that work of dread is over, The grave may close on Zella's lover, And quench the blaze of that full eye

The maiden now is gazing at, As if the countless lights on high

Were all concentrated in that.

But, Oh ! should Selim live no more,
Thy pangs, fond girl, would soon be o'er :
Thou ne'er couldst linger on an earth

Where not a bosom beat to love thee,
But still wouldst feel affection's dearth,

If Eden's fruits bloom'd fresh above thee. Though thou wert nurs’d in war's red lap, And scared by death in every shape, Yet meekest eyes can easier brook On thousand mangled forms to look, Of strangers in the death-grasp writhing, Than one loved face no longer breathing. Though(like the bud of Zeilan's palm

When first its veil is rent asunder,

Trembling beneath the deep ton'd thunder, That shakes the forest with alarm, And with loud prophet voice is heard

Greeting with omens dire the birth
Of that proud flower too highly rear'd

Above each neighbouring child of earth)
Thy cradled slumbers had been broken
By the harsh trumpet's deadly clangor,-
Though none but words of hate and anger
E'en to thine infant ears were spoken,
Though thy first sighs inhaled the air,
The tainted breath of reeking war,
Though pent within a fortress gloom,
Like the steel helmet's quivering plume, –
Thy soul was not less mild than theirs,

Who never felt the spicy grove

Where from the din thy youth would rove, Who never felt the wildering cares, Alike extreme of hate or love,

And thou no more couldst bear to see

The death-gloom shadowing o'er the face Of him whose love was all to thee,

Than the calm ocean's printless glass Can view the fragments of the rock,

That thunder down to its floating base, And lie unruffled by the shock.

“Yes, Selim, yes I know it now,

Thou comest to bid adieu for ever; That quivering lip and that swollen brow

Too well proclaim that we must sever. How different were thy looks when first,

At the soft noon of midnight's hour, The radiance of thy bright eye burst

Through the dark bars of this lonely tower, And, while thy Zella trembling stood,

A burning blush on her pale cheek threw As the red flame of India's wood

Sheds over all its crimson hue. Oh! better far badst thou return’d,

While my green kerchief still was waving, Soon as thy pinnace I discern'd

On the wild tide these turrets laving. Far better hadst thou ta'en my warning,

Than come and leave me now to weep Over a bright and transient dawning

Of joy, like the light which gilds the steep, When the dull eye of drowsy morning

Opes and again is closed in sleep.”

“My bird of beauty say not so ;

I might have shunn’d the beacon-blaze,

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