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Love doth teach the young eye to seek
The shade of the lash, downcast on the cheek,
Its darkness is brightened by gentle tears,
Its splendour is softened by tender fears ;
But the lady's eye is stedfast and bright,
And its depths are solemn as those of the night.
Her beauty is that of a statue's face,
A calm, serene, and spiritual grace;
The mind on her lofty brow is bright
With a power that speaks not of earthly light;
And her raven locks o'er her white neck flow;
No throbbing pulse ever warmed its snow.
From an ancient line was the maiden sprung,
Haughty in deed, and daring in tongue,
She was as proud and as bold as the rest,
Though her spirit was turned to a higher quest,
Still the pride of her race was the only tie
That came between her soul and the sky.
She raised her voice, it was low and sweet,
Yet the wind sank down, as hushed at her feet;--
She drew around her a mystic line,
She named a name, and she signed a sign ;-
At once to her charmed vision was given
The secrets the bright stars write upon heaven.
On her curved red lip was no sign of fear,
Though the phantom of future days drew near:
She watched, and saw a glorious band,
Spurs on the heel and swords in the hand;

And a 'broidered banner swept the space, She saw it was wrought with the crest of her race! She saw a noble city ariseTower and temple darkened the skies : Then gallant and stately warriors passed, Till throne and coronet rose at last. One chieftain stepped his comrades before,He was of her race,—she asked no more. Calmly she folded her arms on her breast, As if disdaining the pride she repressed; Perhaps ’t was the mournful midnight that stole In sadness unwonted over her soul. Dark the clouds gathered upon the gale, Whose sound was less of triumph than wail. Next day, her kinsmen in counsel metDeep was the cast on that council set And they paused till the lady came to the board, And her words like the red wine their spirit poured. On! on!” she said, “ with a dauntless brow, The star of the Medici's dominant now.” Her spirit passed in its earnest words, As the harp that breaks from its over-wrought chords. Her kinsmen went forth in pride and power, Florence was theirs ere the evening hour; But the day of triumph was that of doom, And their war-trumpets rang o'er their Sybil's tomb.

L. E. L.



The night had set in, dark and starless; the path intricate throughout, led sometimes through an oozy, salt desert, at others, wound among sandy hillocks, or ridges of rock. The horses, mules, and camels of the party, worn out with a march of twenty continuous hours, stumbled and tripped continually, in spite of all the attention of their drivers or riders, many of whom, in pity to their beasts, had dismounted, and leading them by halter or by bridle, picked their way painfully on foot.

At length, one of my own horses fell, utterly exhausted, as it seemed; for not all the efforts of the servants could rouse him, or induce him to make a single attempt to recover his feet. It was a stout yaboo, or galloway, which had been used for carrying the cooking utensils, together with the coverings of the other horses, by which they are protected at their pickets from the cold, and the head and heel ropes by which they are fastened to them. A thick squat fellow of a Mehtec or groom, frequently added his weight to this load, by perching himself upon the top of it, instead of leading the animal; but he was now dismounted in good earnest. The girths were quickly loosened, and the poor beast released from the burthen of its ponderous pack-saddle, with all its superincumbent gear; but even this relief was ineffectual. The animal, although no one would have suspected it from its appearance, had possessed a degree of blood which had stimulated it to exert itself as long as nature could endure ; it had borne its prescribed burthen until it could do so no longer, and then it sunk, to rise no more. With a heavy groan or two, it stretched out its weary limbs, quivered through every muscle for a few moments, and fairly gave up the ghost, leaving us not less embarrassed than mortified at our illtimed loss.

But there was no help for it. The load of the defunct animal was shared among its surviving companions, and we continued our toilsome way, looking anxiously for the lights of the village where we hoped to put up for the night, in case we should be so fortunate as to reach it. Of this consummation we had almost despaired, in spite of the assurances of our guide, when a huge mass of ruins rose at once, like the castle of a magician issuing from the darkness; a straggling light twinkled in the distance, and in a few moments more we found ourselves at the gate of the caravanserai, which, though sufficiently dreary, and affording little beyond shelter to ourselves and our beasts, was hailed by us all with unspeakable joy.

After a night which yielded us no further refreshment than that of rest, it was resolved to recruit both men and animals by another day's repose, before proceeding on our journey; and it also became expedient to provide ourselves with a horse of some description, in lieu of the one we had lost in the salt desert on the preceding night.

Our wishes on the subject had not long been expressed, before a person was announced as willing and able to supply our want. He was a man of middle age and stature, whose features, no less than his garb, proclaimed his Tartar origin. Very high and broad cheekbones, pressing upwards; two small, diagonally-set, pig-like eyes, against hairless brows; a small, turned-up nose, with wide nostrils; thin lips, projecting jaws, a small, narrow-pointed chin, garnished with a few straggling hairs by way of beard, and a true yellow-ochre complexion. Such were the principal traits that marked the countenance of the stranger; a countenance, certainly not possessing many claims to beauty, but which, on the other hand, bore a strong expression of goodhumour, and even of benevolence, that could not fail of exciting a favourable opinion in the minds of those whom he addressed.

As for his dress, it was in the rudest Toorkoman

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