From that dread hour, entirely, wildly given To him and—she believ’d, lost maid!—to Heaven; Her brain, her heart, her passions all inflam’d, How proud she stood, when in full Haram nam’d The Priestess of the Faith!—how flash’d her eyes With light, alas! that was not of the skies, When round, in trances, only less than hers, She saw the Haram kneel, her prostrate worshippers! Well might MOKANNA think that form alone Had spells enough to make the world his own:— Light, lovely limbs, to which the spirit’s play Gave motion, airy as the dancing spray, When from its stem the small bird wings away: Lips in whose rosy labyrinth, when she smil’d, The soul was lost; and blushes, swift and wild As are the momentary meteors sent Across the’ uncalm, but beauteous firmament. And then her look—oh! where’s the heart so wise Could unbewilder’d meet those matchless eyes? Quick, restless, strange, but exquisite withal, Like those of angels, just before their fall; Now shadow’d with the shames of earth—now crost By glimpses of the Heaven her heart had lost; In ev’ry glance there broke, without control, The flashes of a bright, but troubled soul, Where sensibility still wildly play’d, Like lightning, round the ruins it had made! And such was now young ZELICA—so chang’d From her who, some years since, delighted rang’d The almond groves that shade BOKHARA’S tide, All life and bliss, with AZIM by her side! So alter’d was she now, this festal day, When, ’mid the proud Divan’s dazzling array, The vision of that Youth whom she had lov’d, Had wept as dead, before her breath’d and mov’d;— When—bright, she thought, as if from Eden’s track But half-way trodden, he had wander’d back Again to earth, glistening with Eden’s light— Her beauteous AZIM shone before her sight.