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There lives a lass in yonder park,
O Tibby, I hae, &c.
O CEASE, YE HOWLING WINDS, TO BLOW.
O cease, ye howling winds, to blow,
Go, fell Despair, I seek not thee,
Thro' silent midnight's solemn hour,
My lover's bark, engulph'd I see,
Come, gentle Hope, assume thy reign,
Whilst I adoring, trusting thee,
Maid of the cold suspicious heart,
While through the sleepless night I sigh,
While harmony my soul disdains,
While I in fix'd attention gaze,
While I reject thy offer'd hand,
Ah ! Laura, while I thus impart
The russet suit of camel's hair,
With spirits light, and eye serene,
Than all the trappings of a queen.
* Maisuna was a daughter of the tribe of Calab, and was married whilst very young to the Khaliph Mowiah. This exalted situation, however, by no
The humble tent, and murmuring breeze
That whistles thro' its fluttering walls,
Better than towers and splendid halls. .
The attendant colts that bounding fly,
And frolic by the litter's side,
Than gorgeous mules in all their pride.
The watch-dog's voice that bays, whene'er
A stranger seeks his master's cot,
Than yonder trumpet's long-drawn note.
The rustic youth, unspoil'd by art,
Son of my kindred, poor but free,
Be dearer, pamper'd fool, than thee.
mcans suited the disposition of Maisuna ; and, amidst all the pomp and splendour of Damascus, she languished for the simple pleasures of her native desert.
These feelings gave birth to the preceding simple stanzas, which she took delight in singing, whenever she could find an opportunity to indulge her melancholy in private.-She was overheard one day by Mowiah, who, as a punishment, ordered her to retire from court.—Maisuna immediately obeyed, and taking her infant son, Yezid, with her, returned to Yeman, her native place, to enjoy what "was dearer to her bosom, far, than all the trappings of a queen."
I SAW THY FORM IN YOUTHFUL PRIME.
I saw thy form in youthful prime,
Nor thought that pale decay
And waste its bloom away, Mary!
Which fleets not with the breath ;
Than in thy smile of death, Mary !
As streams that run o'er golden mines,
With modest murmurs glide,
Within their gentle tide, Mary!
Thy radiant genius shone,
Seem'd worthless in thy own, Mary!