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And Margiana to the Hyrcanian cliffs
He saw them in their forms of battle ranged,
His daughter, sought by many prowest knights,
NOW ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime, Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime? Know ye the land of the cedar and vine, Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine; Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppressed with perfume,
Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gúl in her bloom ;
"T is the clime of the East; 't is the land of the Sun, Can he smile on such deeds as his children have done? O, wild as the accents of lovers' farewell,
Are the hearts which they bear, and the tales which they tell.
THE POET IN THE EAST.
THE Poet came to the Land of the East,
The Earth was dressed for a wedding feast,
So young she seemed, and fair;
And the Poet knew the Land of the East,-
All things to him were the visible forms
Familiar visions that mocked his quest
Beside the Western streams,
Or gleamed in the gold of the clouds, unrolled In the sunset's dying beams.
He looked above in the cloudless calm,
The breath of gardens, deep in balm,
And a brother to him was the princely Palm,
His feet went forth on the myrtled hills,
And, half in shade and half in sun,
With a passionate thrill in her crimson heart, — She had waited for the hour!
And, like a bride's, the Poet kissed
Then the Nightingale, who sat above
Except in minstrelsy;
For the rose you kissed with the kiss of love, She is faithful still to me."
And further sang the Nightingale : "Your bower not distant lies.
I heard the sound of a Persian lute
From the jasmined window rise,
And, twin-bright stars, through the lattice-bars, I saw the Sultana's eyes."
The Poet said: "I will here abide,
BEHIND the veil, where depth is traced
By many a complicated line,
Behind the lattice closely laced
With filigree of choice design, Behind the lofty garden-wall,
Where stranger face can ne'er surprise, That inner world her all-in-all,
The Eastern Woman lives and dies.
Husband and children round her draw
That scarce with choice her mind molests; Their birth and tutelage the ground
And meaning of her life on earth,
If young and beautiful, she dwells
Within the gay kiosk reclined,
Above the scent of lemon groves,