From 'The Bride of Abydos' Know 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 Gül in her bloom; Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit, And the voice of the nightingale never is mute: Where the tints of the earth and the hues of the sky, In color though varied, in beauty may vie, And the purple of ocean is deepest in dye; Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine, And all, save the spirit of man, is divine? 'Tis the clime of the East! 'tis the land of the Sun! Can he smile on such deeds as his children have done? Oh! wild as the accents of lovers' farewell Are the hearts which they bear, and the tales which they tell. ORIENTAL ROYALTY From 'Don Juan' He had fifty daughters and four dozen sons, Of whom all such as came of age were stowed-- The former in a palace, where like nuns They lived till some Bashaw was sent abroad, When she whose turn it was, was wed at once, Sometimes at six years old--though this seems odd, 'Tis true: the reason is, that the Bashaw Must make a present to his sire-in-law. His sons were kept in prison, till they grew Of years to fill a bowstring or the throne,-- One or the other, but which of the two Could yet be known unto the Fates alone: Meantime the education they went through Was princely, as the proofs have always shown; So that the heir-apparent still was found No less deserving to be hanged than crowned. A GRECIAN SUNSET From 'The Curse of Minerva' Slow sinks, more lovely ere his race be run, Along Morea's hills the setting sun; Not, as in Northern climes, obscurely bright, But one unclouded blaze of living light: O'er the hushed deep the yellow beam he throws, Gilds the green wave that trembles as it glows. On cold Ægina's rock and Idra's isle The god of gladness sheds his parting smile; O'er his own regions lingering, loves to shine, Though there his altars are no more divine. Descending fast, the mountain shadows kiss Thy glorious gulf, unconquered Salamis! Their azure arches through the long expanse, More deeply purpled meet his mellowing glance, And tenderest tints, along their summits driven, Mark his gay course, and own the hues of heaven; Till, darkly shaded from the land and deep, Behind his Delphian cliff he sinks to sleep.