Scarce had this feeling pass’d, when, sparkling through The gently open’d curtains of light blue That veil’d the breezy casement, countless eyes, Peeping like stars through the blue evening skies, Look’d laughing in, as if to mock the pair That sat so still and melancholy there:— And now the curtains fly apart, and in From the cool air, ’mid showers of jessamine Which those without fling after them in play, Two lightsome maidens spring,—lightsome as they Who live in the’ air on odours,—and around The bright saloon, scarce conscious of the ground, Chase one another, in a varying dance Of mirth and languor, coyness and advance, Too eloquently like love’s warm pursuit:— While she, who sung so gently to the lute Her dream of home, steals timidly away, Shrinking as violets do in summer’s ray,— But takes with her from AZIM’S heart that sigh We sometimes give to forms that pass us by In the world’s crowd, too lovely to remain, Creatures of light we never see again! Around the white necks of the nymphs who danc’d Hung carcanets of orient gems, that glanc’d More brilliant than the sea-glass glittering o’er The hills of crystal on the Caspian shore;[84] While from their long, dark tresses, in a fall Of curls descending, bells as musical As those that, on the golden-shafted trees Of EDEN, shake in the eternal breeze,[85] Rung round their steps, at every bound more sweet, As ’twere the’ extatic language of their feet. At length the chase was o’er, and they stood wreath’d Within each other’s arms; while soft there breath’d Through the cool casement, mingled with the sighs Of moonlight flowers, music that seem’d to rise From some still lake, so liquidly it rose; And, as it swell’d again at each faint close, The ear could track, through all that maze of chords And young sweet voices, these impassion’d words;— -------------- A SPIRIT there is, whose fragrant sigh Is burning now through earth and air: Where cheeks are blushing, the Spirit is nigh; Where lips are meeting, the Spirit is there! His breath is the soul of flowers like these, And his floating eyes—oh! _they_ resemble[86] Blue water-lilies,[87] when the breeze Is making the stream around them tremble. Hail to thee, hail to thee, kindling power! Spirit of Love, Spirit of Bliss! Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour, And there never was moonlight so sweet as this. By the fair and brave Who blushing unite, Like the sun and wave, When they meet at night; By the tear that shows When passion is nigh, As the rain-drop flows From the heat of the sky; By the first love-beat Of the youthful heart, By the bliss to meet, And the pain to part;