The nightingale now bends her flight She sung so sweet, with none to listen; And hides her from the morning star Where thickets of pomegranate glisten In the clear dawn, bespangled o'er With dew, whose night-drops would not stain The best and brightest scimitar + That ever youthful Sultan wore On the first morning of his reign! And see the Sun himself! — on wings Of glory up the East he springs. Angel of Light! who from the time Those heavens began their march sublime, Hath first of all the starry choir Trod in his Maker's steps of fire! Where are the days, thou wondrous sphere, When IRAN, like a sun-flower, turn'd To meet that where'er it burn'd? — eye - When, from the banks of BENDEMEER "the 4. In speaking of the climate of Shiraz, Francklin says, dew is of such a pure nature, that, if the brightest scimitar should be exposed to it all night, it would not receive the least rust." To the nut-groves of SAMARCAND Thy temples flam'd o'er all the land? Where are they? ask the shades of them Saw fierce invaders pluck the gem From IRAN's broken diadem, And bind her ancient faith in chains: Ask the poor exile, cast alone On foreign shores, unlov'd, unknown, Or on the snowy Mossian mountains, Far from his beauteous land of dates, Her jasmine bowers and sunny fountains! Yet happier so than if he trod His own belov'd but blighted sod, Where Freedom and his God may lead, Than be the sleekest slave at home That crouches to the conqueror's creed! 5 The place where the Persians were finally defeated by the Arabs, and their ancient monarchy destroyed. 6 Derbend. "Les Turcs appellent cette ville Demir Capi, Porte de Fer; ce sont les Caspiæ Portæ des anciens."-D'Herbelot. Is IRAN's pride then gone for ever, Quench'd with the flame in MITHRA'S caves? No she has sons that never never Will stoop to be the Moslem's slaves, While heav'n has light or earth has graves. And hearts where, slow but deep, the seeds Till, in some treacherous hour of calm, Yes, EMIR! he, who scal'd that tower, And, had he reach'd thy slumbering breast, Had taught thee, in a Gheber's power 7 The Talpot or Talipot tree. "This beautiful palm-tree, which grows in the heart of the forests, may be classed among the loftiest trees, and becomes still higher when on the point of bursting forth from its leafy summit. The sheath which then envelopes the flower is very large, and, when it bursts, makes an explosion like the report of a cannon." -Thunberg. Is one of many, brave as he, Who loathe thy haughty race and thee; Of him who rends its links apart, Yet dare the issue, blest to be Ev'n for one bleeding moment free, And die in pangs of liberty! Thou know'st them well-'tis some moons since Thy turban'd troops and blood-red flags, Thou satrap of a bigot Prince! Have swarm'd among these Green Sea crags; Yet here, ev'n here, a sacred band, Ay, in the portal of that land Thou, Arab, dar'st to call thy own, Their spears across thy path have thrown; Rebellion! foul, dishonouring word, How many a spirit, born to bless, Hath sunk beneath that withering name, Whom but a day's, an hour's success As exhalations, when they burst From the warm earth, if chill'd at first, And turn to sun-bright glories there! And who is he, that wields the might Of Freedom on the Green Sea brink, The eyes of YEMEN's warriors wink? Cling to their country's ancient rites, Their closing gleam on IRAN's heights, |