Although the mortal, quite as fresh and fair, And wrapt him closer, lest the air, too raw, Should reach his blood; then o'er him, still as death, Bent, with hushed lips, that drank his scarce-drawn breath. And thus, like to an angsl o'er the dying, Who die in righteousness, she leaned; and there Must breakfast, and betimes-lest they should ask it, And now, by dint of fingers and of eyes, No doubt, less of her language than her look; Turns oftener to the stars than to his book; "Tis pleasing to be schooled in a strange tongue They smile so when one's right, and when one's wrong. Haidee and Juan at the Feast Haidee and Juan carpeted their feet On crimson satin, bordered with pale blue; Of the apartment-and appeared quite new; Had done their work of splendour; Indian mats And dwarfs and blacks, and such-like things, that gain To say, by degradation-mingled there As plentiful as in a court or fair. There was no want of lofty mirrors, and With mother-of-pearl or ivory, stood at hand, Or were of tortoise-shell or rare woods made, Fretted with gold or silver-by command, The greater part of these were ready spread With viands and sherbets in ice and wineKept for all comers, at all hours to dine. Of all the dresses, I select Haidee's: She wore two jelicks-one was of pale yellow; Of azure, pink, and white was her chemise 'Neath which her breast heaved like a little billow; With buttons formed of pearls as large as peas, All gold and crimson shone her jelick's fellow, One large gold bracelet clasped each lovely arm, That the hand stretched and shut it without harm, Around, as princess of her father's land, A light gold bar above her instep rolled Announced her rank; twelve rings were on her hand; Her hair was starred with gems; her veil's fine fold Below her breast was fastened with a band Of lavish pearls, whose worth could scarce be told; Her orange-silk full Turkish trousers furled About the prettiest ankle in the world. Her hair's long auburn waves down to her heel And still they seemed resentfully to feel The silken fillet's curb, and sought to shun Round her she made an atmosphere of life; % With all we can imagine of the skies, Her eyelashes, thongh dark as night, were tinged- Her nails were touched with henna; but again Juan had on a shawl of black and gold, The sparkling gems beneath you might behold, Like small stars through the Milky-way apparent; His turban, furled in many a graceful fold, An emerald aigrette with Haidee's hair in 't Surmounted as its clasp-a glowing crescent, Whose rays shone ever trembling, but incessant. And now they were diverted by their suite, Dwarfs, dancing-girls, black eunuchs, and a poet; Which made their new establishment complete The last was of great fame, and liked to shew it: His verses rarely wanted their due feet And for his theme-he seldom sung below it, He being paid to satirise or flatter, As the Psalms say, 'inditing a good matter.' The Death of Haidee. Afric is all the sun's, and as her earth, Her Human clay is kindled; full of power For good or evil, burning from its birth, The Moorish blood partakes the planet's hour. Her daughter, tempered with a milder ray, But, overwrought with passion and despair, Where late he trod, her beautiful, her own; Her writhing, fell she like a cedar felled. A vein had burst, and her sweet lips' pure dyes And her head drooped as when the lily lies O'ercharged with rain: her summoned handmaids bore Their lady to her couch with gushing eyes; Of herbs and cordials they produced their store: But she defied all means they could employ, Days lay she in that state unchanged, though chill- All hope: to look upon her sweet face bred Her handmaids tended, but she heeded not; They changed from room to room, but all forgot; At length those eyes, which they would fain be weaning And then a slave bethought her of a harp: The harper came and tuned his instrument: At the first notes, irregular and sharp, On him her flashing eyes a moment bent; Then to the wall she turned, as if to warp Her thoughts from sorrow through her heart re-sent; Of ancient days ere tyranny grew strong. Anon her thin wan fingers beat the wall In time to his old tune; he changed the theme, And sung of Love; the fierce name struck through all Of what she was, and is, if ye could call The tears rushed forth from her o'erclouded brain, Twelve days and nights she withered thus; at last, And they who watched her nearest could not know Her sweet face into shadow, dull and slow, Thus lived-thus died she; never more on her Its dwellings down. its tenants passed away; PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY was born at his father's seat, Field Place, near Horsham, in Sussex, August 4, 1792. His grandfather, Sir Bysshe Shelley, was then living, and his father, Timothy Shelley (who afterwards succeeded to the title and estate), was a member of the House of Commons. The family was of great antiquity, tracing its descent from one of the followers of William of Normandy. In worldly prospects and distinction the poet therefore surpassed most of his tuneful brethren; yet this only served to render his When happy and strange destiny the more conspicuously wretched. Thoughts of great deeds were mine, dear friend, when first I do remember well the hour which burst My spirit's sleep: a fresh May-dawn it was, When I walked forth upon the glittering grass, And then I clasped my hands and looked around, Which poured their warm drops on the sunny ground; And just, and free, and mild, if in me lies Such power, for I grow weary to behold The selfish and the strong still_tyrannise Without reproach or check.' I then controlled My tears, my heart grew calm, and I was meek and bold. And from that hour did I with earnest thought Wrought linked armour for my soul, before It might walk forth to war among mankind; Thus power and hope were strengthened more and more A sense of loneliness, a thirst with which I pined. With these feelings and predilections (exaggerated, however, in expression, as all his personal statements were), Shelley went to Oxford. He studied hard but irregularly, and spent much of his leisure in chemical experiments. He incessantly speculated, thought, and read, as he himself has stated. At the age of fifteen he wrote two short prose romances. He had also great facility in versification, and threw off various effusions. The 'forbidden mines of lore' which had captivated his boyish mind at Eton were also diligently explored, and he was soon an avowed republican and sceptic. He published a volume of political rhymes, entitled 'Posthumous Poems of my Aunt Margaret Nicholson,' the said Margaret being the unhappy maniac who at tempted to stab George III.; and he issued a syllabus from Hume's Essays,' at the same time challenging the authorities of Oxford to a |