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themselves, like the blacksmith's * apron converted into a banner, are so easily gilt and embroidered into consequence. Then, as to the versification, it was, to say no worse of it, execrable: it had neither the copious flow of Ferdosi, the sweetness of Hafez, nor the sententious march of Sadi; but appeared to him, in the uneasy heaviness of its movements, to have been modelled upon the gait of a very tired dromedary. The licences, too, in which it indulged, were unpardonable ;- for instance this line, and the poem abounded with such ;

Like the faint, exquisite music of a dream. “What critic that can count,” said Fadladeen, “and has his full complement of fingers to count withal, would tolerate for an instant such syllabic superfluities?”—He here looked round, and discovered that most of his audience were asleep; while the glimmering lamps seemed inclined to follow their example. It became necessary, therefore, however painful to himself, to put an end to his valuable animadversions for the present, and he accordingly concluded, with an air of dignified candour, thus :-“Notwithstanding the observations which I have thought it my duty to make, it is by no means my wish to discourage the young man :--so far from it, indeed, that if he will but totally alter his style of writing and thinking, I have very little doubt that I shall be vastly pleased with him."

Some days elapsed, after this harangue of the Great Chamberlain, before Lalla Rookh could venture to ask for another story. The youth was still a welcome guest in the pavilion—to one heart, perhaps, too dangerously welcome ;- but all mention of poetry was, as if by common consent, avoided. Though none of the party had much respect for Fadladeen, yet his censures, thus magisterially delivered, evidently made an impression on them all. The Poet himself, to whom criticism was quite a new operation, (being wholly unknown in that Paradise of the Indies, Cashmere,) felt the shock as it is generally felt at first, till use has made it more tolerable to the patient ;, the Ladies began to suspect that they ought not to be pleased, and seemed to conclude that there must have been much good sense in what Fadladeen said, from its having set them all so soundly to sleep ;-while the self-complacent Chamberlain was left to triumph in the idea of having, for the hundred and fiftieth time in his life, extinguished a Poet. Lalla Rookh alone and Love knew why-persisted in being delighted with all she had heard, and in resolving to hear more as speedily as possible. Her manner, however, of first returning to the subject was unlucky. It was while they rested during the heat of noon near a fountain, on which some hand had rudely traced those well-known words from the Garden of Sadi, –“Many, like me, have viewed this fountain, but they are gone, and their eyes are closed for ever!”—that she took occasion, from the melancholy beauty of this passage, to dwell upon the charms of poetry in general. “It is true,” she said, “few poets can imitate that sublime bird which flies always in the air,

* The blacksmith Gao, who successfully resisted the tyrant Zohak, and whose apron became the Royal Standard of Persia,

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and never touches the earth :*—it is only once in many ages a Genius appears whose words, like those on the Written Mountain, last for ever:t-but still there are some, as delightful, perhaps, though not so wonderful, who, if not stars over our head, are at least flowers along our path, and whose sweetness of the moment we ought gratefully to inhale, without calling upon them for a brightness and a durability beyond their nature. In short,” continued she, blushing, as if conscious of being caught in an oration, “it is quite cruel that a poet cannot wander through his regions of enchantment, without having a critic for ever, like the old Man of the Sea, upon his back!"-Fadladeen, it was plain, took this last luckless allusion to himself, and would treasure it up in his mind as a whetstone for his next criticism. A sudden silence ensued ; and the Princess, glancing a look at Feramorz, saw plainly she must wait for a more courageous moment.

But the glories of Nature, and her wild, fragrant airs, playing freshly over the current of youthful spirits, will soon heal even deeper wounds than the dull Fadladeens of this world can inflict. In an evening or two after, they came to the small Valley of Gardens, which had been planted' by order of the Emperor, for his favourite sister Rochinara, during their progress to Cashmere, some years before; and never was there a more sparkling assemblage of sweets, since the Gulzar-e-Irem, or Rose-bower of Irem. Every precious flower was there to be found, that poetry, or love, or religion, has ever consecrated ; from the dark hyacinth, to which Hafez compares his mistress's hair, to the Cámalatá, by whose rosy blossoms the heaven of Indra is scented. I As they sat in the cool fragrance of this delicious spot, and Lalla Rookh remarked that she could fancy it the abode of that Flower-loving Nymph whom they worship in the temples of Kathay, $ or of one of those Peris, those beautiful creatures of the air, who live upon perfumes, and to whom a place like this might make some amends for the Paradise they have lost,--the young Poet, in whose eyes she appeared, while she spoke, to be one of the bright spiritual creatures she was describing, said hesitatingly that he remembered a Story of a Peri, which, if the Princess had no objection, he would venture to relate.

* " The Huma, a bird peculiar to the East. It is supposed to fly constantly in the air, and never touch the ground; it is looked upon as a bind of happy omen ; and that every head it overshades will in time wear a crown."-Richardson.

"To the pilgrims to Mount Sinai we must attribute the inscriptions, figures, &c., on those rocks, which have from thence acquired the name of the Written Mountain."-Volney.

"The Cámalatá (called by Linnæus, Ipomäa) is the most beautiful of its order, both in the colour and form of its leaves and flowers ; its elegant blossoms are 'celestial rosy red, Love's proper hue,' and have justly procured it the name of Cámalatá, or Love's Creeper."-Sir W. Jones.

“Cámalatá may also mean a mythological plant, by which all desires are granted to such as inhabit the heaven of Indra ; and if ever flower was worthy of Paradise, it is our charming I pomaa."--Ib.

§ “According to Father Premare, in his tract on Chinese Mythology, the mother of Fo-hi was the daughter of heaven, surnamed Flower-loving; and as the nymph was walking alone on the bank of a river, she found herself encircled by a rainbow, after which she became pregnant, and, at the end of twelve years, was delivered of a son radiant as herself.”- Asiat, Res,

“ It is,” said he, with an appealing look to Fadladeen, “in a lighter and humbler strain than the other:" then, striking a few careless but melancholy chords on his kitar, he thus began :

PARADISE AND THE PERI.
ONE 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 outblooms 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-oh 'tis 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, Bramins say-

Blooms nowhere but in Paradise.+

* “The Altan Kol or Golden River of Tibet, which runs into the Lakes of Sing-su-hay, has abundance of gold in its sands, which employs the inhabitants all the summer in gathering it." -Description of Tibet in Pinkerton.

“The Brahmins of this province insist that the blue campac flowers only in Paradise."-Sir W. 7ones. It appears, however, from a curious letter of Sultan of Menangcabow, given by Marsden, that one place on earth may lay claim to the possession of it. “This is the Sultan, who keeps the flower champaka that is blue, and to be found in no other country but his, being yellow elsewhere."- Marsden's Sumatra.

“Nymph of a fair but erring line !"
Gently he said—“One hope is thine.
'Tis 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, I
Many a fathom down in the sea,
To the south of sun-bright Araby ;8
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:

* “The Mahometans suppose that falling stars are the firebrands wherewith the good angels drive away the bad, when they approach too near the empyrean or verge of the heavens." — Fryer.

.f The Forty Pillars ; so the Persians call the ruins of Persepolis. It is imagined by them that this palace and the edifices at Balbec were built by Genii, for the purpose of hiding in their subterraneous caverns, immense treasures, which still remain there.-D'Herbelot, Volney.

Diodorus mentions the Isle of Panchaia, to the south of Arabia Felix, where there was a temple of Jupiter.

$ The Isles of Panchaia. .:\. "The cup of Jamshid. discovered, they say, when digging for the founda. tions of Persepolis."-Richardson,

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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 shadesThy 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 with their pure Zenana,

Priests in the very fane, he slanghters, 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, .

And the last arrow in his quiver.
Live,” said the Conqueror, “live to share
The trophies and the crowns I bear !"
Silent that youthful warrior stood
Silent he pointed to the flood
All crimson with his country's blood,
Then sent his last remaining dart,
For answer, to the Invader's heart.
False flew the shaft, though pointed well;
The Tyrant lived, the Hero fell !
Yet marked the Peri where he lay,

And, when the rush of war was past, Swiftly descending on a ray

Of morning light she caught the lastLast glorious drop his heart had shed, Before its free-born spirit fled !

* “Mahmood of Gazna, or Ghizni, who conquered India in the beginning of the with century."-See his History in Dow and Sir y Malcolm.

“It is reported that the hunting equipage of the Sultan Mahmood was so magnificent that he kept 400 greyhounds and bloodhounds, each of which wore a collar set with jewels, and a covering edged with gold and pearls,”- Unite versal History, vol. iii,

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