Why bite thy lip? Why hints suggest,

As if I could betray?

A ruby lip, 'tis true, I've prest;

But whose-don't bid me say.

Absent from her, forlorn I moan,
Affliction haunts my cot:

But what I bear thus all alone,
Ah! prithee ask me not!

HAFIZ, a stranger late to woe,

Now feels it in excess;

Ask not his boundless love to know,
"Tis what he can't express.

WHEN the fair Rose amidst her flow'ry train,
With virgin blushes greets the dewy morn;
Sy, will th' enamour'd Nightingale remain
A lonely warbler on the desert thorn?

When the dark sullen Genii of the night,

Behold the Moon slow rising o'er the wave,
Those wayward spirits curse the beauteous light,
And hide with Envy in her gloomy cave:

Yet shall the traveller with enraptured eye,
As late he treads his solitary way,

O'erlook each radiant gem that decks the sky,
Alone rejoicing in her brighter ray.

The sweetest rose that blushful hails the morn; The moon's mild lustre rising o'er the main : The fairest maids Gergestan's blooms adorn; Or all Circassia's lovely virgin train:

These, these, O Selima, unnotic'd shine,
Lost in the blaze of thy superior charms;
And whilst I may aspire to call thee mine,
No saint more happy in a Houri's arms.

O Angel of delight! of thee possest,
Not Paradise should bribe me from my love;
Ev'n the fond hope that animates my breast,
Speaks the pure raptures of the blest above.

TO THE

SUN FLOWER.

BY THE SAME.

DEAR as the sun, O lovely flower! to thee,

Oh dearer far is Selima to me!

The breeze that wakens with the orient dawn, Scarce from thy bosom shakes the quivering dew; Scarce is the dusky veil of Night withdrawn,

Ere thy fond eye expanding to the view,

With kindling rapture meets the golden gleam, That now ascends the sky, now floats along the stream.

And when the burning blaze of summer Noon, Darts from the midway heaven's etherial height;

Thy daring eye, broad as the rising moon,

With transport gazes on the King of Light; Tho' all around thee droop the languid head, And all the energies of life are fled.

And oft as Evening sheds the dewy tear,
O'er the pale relics of departed day,
And in the blue expanse of Heaven, appear

The first faint gleams of many a starry ray, Dost thou responsive to the zephyr's sigh, Mourn the past radiance of the western sky.

Dear as the Sun, O lovely flower, to thee,
Oh dearer far is Selima to me!

ΤΟ Α

FEMALE CUP-BEARER.

BY ABD ABSALAM BEN RAGBAN.

COME, Leila, fill the goblet up,

Hand round the rosy wine,

Think not that we will take the cup
From any hand but thine.

A draught like this 'twere vain to seek,
No grape can such supply;

It steals its tint from Leila's cheek,

Its brightness from her eye.

A TURKISH ODE

OF MESIHI.

HEAR how the nightingales, on every spray,
Hail in wild notes the sweet return of May!
The gale, that o'er yon waving almond blows,
The verdant bank with silver blossoms strews;
The smiling season decks each flowery glade.
Be gay too soon the flowers of Spring will fade.

What gales of fragrance scent the vernal air!
Hills, dales, and woods their loveliest mantles wear
Who knows what cares await that fatal day,
When ruder gusts shall banish gentle May ?
Ev'n Death, perhaps, our valleys will invade.
Be gay too soon the flowers of Spring will fade.

The sparkling dew-drops o'er the lilies play,
Like orient pearls, or like the beams of day.
If love and mirth your wanton thoughts engage,
Attend, ye nymphs! (a poet's words are sage)
While thus you sit beneath the trembling shade,
Be gay too soon the flow'rs of Spring will fade.