At glaring watch, perhaps, with ready spears;
Down the wide stairs a darkling way they found,
In all the house was heard no human sound.
A chain-drooped lamp was flickering by each door;
The arras, rich with horsemen, hawk, and hound,
Fluttered in the besieging wind's uproar;

And the long carpets rose along the gusty floor.

They glide, like phantoms, into the wide hall! Like phantoms to the iron porch they glide, Where lay the Porter, in uneasy sprawl, With a huge empty flagon by his side : The wakeful bloodhound rose, and shook his hide, But his sagacious eye an inmate owns : By one, and one, the bolts full easy slide: The chains lie silent on the footworn stones; The key turns, and the door upon its hinges groans;

And they are gone: ay, ages long ago These lovers fled away into the storm. That night the Baron dreamt of many a woe, And all his warrior-guests, with shade and form Of witch, and demon, and large coffin-worm, Were long be-nightmared. Angela the old Died palsy-twitched, with meagre face deform: The Beadsman, after thousand aves told, For aye unsought-for slept among his ashes cold.

NE morn a Peri at the gate
Of Eden stood, disconsolate;
And as she listened to the springs
Of life within, like music flowing,
And caught the light upon her wings
Through the half-open portal glowing,
She wept to think her recreant race
Should e'er have lost that glorious place!

"How happy," exclaimed this child of air, "Are the holy Spirits who wander there,

'Mid flowers that never shall fade or fall; Though mine are the gardens of earth and sea And the stars themselves have flowers for me,

One blossom of Heaven out-blooms them all.

"Though sunny the lake of cool Cashmere, With its plane-tree isle reflected clear,

And sweetly the founts of that valley fall; Though bright are the waters of Sing-su-hay,

And the golden floods that thitherward stray,
Yet-O, 't is only the Blest can say

How the waters of Heaven outshine them all!

"Go, wing thy flight from star to star, From world to luminous world, as far

As the universe spreads its flaming wall: Take all the pleasures of all the spheres, And multiply each through endless years, One minute of Heaven is worth them all!"

The glorious angel, who was keeping
The Gates of Light, beheld her weeping;
And, as he nearer drew and listened
To her sad song, a tear-drop glistened
Within his eyelids, like the spray

From Eden's fountain, when it lies
On the blue flower, which Brahmins say

Blooms nowhere but in Paradise.

"Nymph of a fair but erring line," Gently he said, one hope is thine. "T is written in the Book of Fate, The Peri yet may be forgiven,

Who brings to this eternal gate

The gift that is most dear to Heaven!

Go, seek it, and redeem thy sin,

'Tis sweet to let the pardoned in.”

Rapidly as comets run

To the embraces of the Sun,

Fleeter than the starry brands
Flung at night from angel hands
At those dark and daring sprites
Who would climb the empyreal heights,
Down the blue vault the Peri flies,

And, lighted earthward by a glance
That just then broke from morning's eyes,
Hung hovering o'er our world's expanse.

But whither shall the Spirit go

To find this gift for Heaven? - "I know
The wealth," she cries, "of every urn
In which unnumbered rubies burn,
Beneath the pillars of Chilminar;

I know where the Isles of Perfume are,
Many a fathom down in the sea,
To the south of sun-bright Araby;
I know, too, where the Genii hid
The jewelled cup of their King Jamshid,
With life's elixir sparkling high,

But gifts like these are not for the sky.
Where was there ever a gem that shone
Like the steps of Alla's wonderful throne?
And the Drops of Life -oh! what would they be
In the boundless Deep of Eternity?"

While thus she mused, her pinions fanned

The air of that sweet Indian land,
Whose air is balm; whose ocean spreads
O'er coral rocks, and amber beds;

Whose mountains, pregnant by the beam

Of the warm sun, with diamonds teem; Whose rivulets are like rich brides, Lovely, with gold beneath their tides; Whose sandal groves and bowers of spice Might be a Peri's Paradise!

But crimson now her rivers ran

With human blood, - the smell of death Came reeking from those spicy bowers, And man, the sacrifice of man,

Mingled his taint with every breath Upwafted from the innocent flowers. Land of the Sun! what foot invades Thy pagods and thy pillared shades, Thy cavern shrines, and idol stones, Thy monarchs and their thousand thrones? 'Tis He of Gazna, fierce in wrath He comes, and India's diadems Lie scattered in his ruinous path.

His bloodhounds he adorns with gems, Torn from the violated necks

Of many a young and loved Sultana ; Maidens, within their pure zenana, Priests in the very fane he slaughters, And chokes up with the glittering wrecks Of golden shrines the sacred waters!

Downward the Peri turns her gaze,
And, through the war-field's bloody haze,
Beholds a youthful warrior stand,

Alone beside his native river,

The red blade broken in his hand,