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THE FEAST OF ROSES.
HO has not heard of the Vale of CASHMERE,
Its temples, and grottos, and fountains as clear As the love-lighted eyes that hang over their wave?
But never yet, by night or day,
With quicker spread each heart uncloses,
The Valley holds its Feast of Roses; The joyous Time, when pleasures pour Profusely round, and, in their shower, Hearts open, like the Season's Rose,
The Flow'ret of a hundred leaves, Expanding while the dew-fall flows, And every leaf its balm receives.
"T was when the hour of evening came Upon the Lake, serene and cool, When Day had hid his sultry flame
Behind the palms of BARAMOULE, When maids began to lift their heads, Refresh'd from their embroider'd beds,
Where they had slept the sun away,
All were abroad-the busiest hive
And fields and pathways, far and near,
And all exclaim'd to all they met,
So gay a Feast of Roses yet;
The moon had never shed a light
So clear as that which bless'd them there;
The roses ne'er shone half so bright,
Nor they themselves look'd half so fair.
And what a wilderness of flow'rs!
It seem'd as though from all the bow'rs
And fairest fields of all the year,
The Lake, too, like a garden breathes,
As if a shower of fairy wreaths
Had fall'n upon it from the sky!
Sung from his lighted gallery,
And answer'd by a ziraleet
From neighbouring Haram, wild and sweet ;
The merry laughter, echoing
From gardens, where the silken swing
Wafts some delighted girl above
The top leaves of the orange grove ;
Handfuls of roses at each other.—
Then, the sounds from the Lake,-the low whisp'ring in boats, As they shoot through the moonlight;-the dripping of oars, And the wild, airy warbling that ev'rywhere floats,
Through the groves, round the islands, as if all the shores, Like those of KATHAY, utter'd music, and gave
An answer in song to the kiss of each wave.
But the gentlest of all are those sounds, full of feeling,
To be near the loved One,-what a rapture is his
Think, think what a Heav'n she must make of CASHMERE!
THE GHEBER'S STRONGHOLD.
FROM THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS."
HERE stood-but one short league away
A last and solitary link
Of those stupendous chains that reach
Down winding to the Green Sea beach.
As if to guard the Gulf across;
And such the fearful wonders told
At twilight hour, to steer his skiff