But nought can charm the luckless PERI; Her soul is sad—her wings are weary— Joyless she sees the Sun look down On that great Temple, once his own,[190] Whose lonely columns stand sublime, Flinging their shadows from on high, Like dials, which the wizard, Time, Had rais’d to count his ages by! Yet haply there may lie conceal’d Beneath those Chambers of the Sun, Some amulet of gems anneal’d In upper fires, some tablet seal’d With the great name of SOLOMON, Which, spell’d by her illumin’d eyes, May teach her where, beneath the moon, In earth or ocean, lies the boon, The charm, that can restore so soon An erring Spirit to the skies. Cheer’d by this hope she bends her thither;— Still laughs the radiant eye of Heaven, Nor have the golden bowers of Even In the rich West begun to wither;— When, o’er the vale of BALBEC winging Slowly, she sees a child at play, Among the rosy wild flowers singing, As rosy and as wild as they; Chasing, with eager hands and eyes, The beautiful blue damsel flies,[191] That flutter’d round the jasmine stems, Like wingèd flowers or flying gems:— And, near the boy, who tir’d with play Now nestling ’mid the roses lay, She saw a wearied man dismount From his hot steed, and on the brink Of a small imaret’s rustic fount[192] Impatient fling him down to drink. Then swift his haggard brow he turn’d To the fair child, who fearless sat, Though never yet hath day-beam burn’d Upon a brow more fierce than that,— Sullenly fierce—a mixture dire, Like thunder-clouds, of gloom and fire; In which the PERI’S eye could read Dark tales of many a ruthless deed; The ruin’d maid—the shrine profan’d— Oaths broken—and the threshold stain’d With blood of guests!—_there_ written, all, Black as the damning drops that fall From the denouncing Angel’s pen, Ere Mercy weeps them out again. Yet tranquil now that man of crime (As if the balmy evening time Soften’d his spirit) look’d and lay, Watching the rosy infant’s play:— Though still, whene’er his eye by chance Fell on the boy’s, its lurid glance Met that unclouded joyous gaze, As torches that have burnt all night Through some impure and godless rite, Encounter morning’s glorious rays.