XII.

"Kharizmé-Kaundahaur-Iraun—

The shores the Caspian laves-
The pastures of the Toorkoomaun-
Goorgistaun's mountain caves—

Imperial Delhi's golden towers,

The Syrian's mellow vale,

Turned not our bridles back-thy powers,

O Allah! must prevail !

'Let the dogs drink their gore who refuse to adore Him!'

Was the cry of the Khaun, with the Koraun before him.

XIII.

"The Pagan slave-the Nazarene,

Alone, I humbled not;

Purged were those Moslem shrines unclean,

Where Islaum was forgot.

Ask Haleb-Baughdaud's ghastly heap

Down-trodden Yeldurrûm—

Did Timour, the Avenger, sleep

Upon his march of doom?

His soul sought not blood, but the mandate was

given

To deal on the faithless the judgment of Heaven.

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XIV.

Angel of Death! thy dusky wings
Fling their chill shadows near;
The realms of seven-and-twenty kings
I yield to Jehaungeer.

Spotless the robe of empire wear,

My son. Now, Ameers brave!

Swear fealty to the Khaun,-then bear

An old man to his grave."

Timour Beg speaks no more; and his people, who

gather,

All pale, round his tent, call in vain on their father.

THE FELLOWSHIP OF NATURE.

1.

THE mountain breeze! the fresh-the free!

Oh! bring the arrowy breeze to me!

Be mine, the breathing heights to stem

The hill's empurpling diadem;—

To seek to meet-the rushing flow

That thrills my heart, and cools my brow:

And feel my bosom gladly bound,

To catch its soul-inspiring sound.

II.

Keep wealth! thy domes and halls of pride,
Thy teeming vales, and gardens wide!
Keep pomp! thy gauds, thy pleasures rare,
Thy flowers, that wreathe the brow of Care!
Be mine the strength-the power to fly
Where care and sorrow come not nigh;-
To seek the glen, the mountain lone,
Where nature's heart is all mine own.

III.

Ay, earth has many a galling chain,

That binds me down to grief and pain;-
And cold, and harsh the world I view;

And kindred hearts are far and few.

But Nature!-thee!-through good-through ill—
I seek-I bless-unchanging still ;-
Alike in calm, and tempest wild,

Thou hold'st communion with thy child.

IV.

Oh! can I press the mountain sod,
By mortal footsteps rarely trod ;

Or plunge mid wilds and forests green,
Where sordid dreams have never been;
Or meet-by far and lonely seas-
Heaven's own-its pure-its blessed breeze,
Nor feel my bosom inly burn,

And peace, and hope, and joy return?

V

Oh! can I lift to yonder sky

A lonely and adoring eye,—

When scoffing worldlings none are near,
To aim the jest, or point the sneer ;-
Its million glories can I view-
Its mighty clouds-its melting blue,--
Nor spite of pain and anguish, feel
Their holy influence o'er me steal?

VI.

And when the tide of feeling strong,
The yielding spirit bears along,-
When the full heart is swelling high,
With dreams that meet not mortal eye,
Yet held in cold and stern control,
That shake and rend the inmost soul;-
Then, Nature! then the world I flee,
To pour, unchecked, that soul to thee!

VII.

Reviver thou of visions fled!

Of early joys long vanished!

Entwined with thee, they are not gone,

To sleep in dull oblivion :

Thy magic touch aside can roll

The blinding mists that dim the soul,

And oft-in colder years-renew

Its bright first loves-the warm-the true.

VIII.

Dear, dear to me, through every scene,

Through storm, through sunshine, hast thou been;

All else hath changed, save only thou;

Bright wert thou aye; and bright art now.
Oh! still on thine, my burning breast

Shall lay its throbbings wild to rest;
Nor feel care's chilling weight, while free
In thine own realms, to worship thee!

Σ.