My native land abandoned long, I sought this realm of love and song. Through Bakchesaria's palace wandered, Upon its vanished greatness pondered; All silent now those spacious halls, And courts deserted, once so gay With feasters thronged within their walls, Carousing after battle fray. Even now each desolated room And ruined garden luxury breathes, The fountains play, the roses bloom, The vine unnoticed twines its wreaths, Gold glistens, shrubs exhale perfume. The shattered casements still are there Within which once, in days gone by, Their beads of amber chose the fair, And heaved the unregarded sigh; The cemetery there I found, Of conquering khans the last abode, Columns with marble turbans crowned Their resting-place the traveller showed, And seemed to speak fate's stern decree, "As they are now such all shall be!" Where now those chiefs? the harem where? Alas! how sad scene once so fair! Now breathless silence chains the air! But not of this my mind was full, The roses' breath, the fountains flowing, The sun's last beam its radiance throwing Around, all served my heart to lull Into forgetfulness, when lo! A maiden's shade, fairer than snow, Across the court swift winged its flight;-- Whose shade, oh friends! then struck my sight? Whose beauteous image hovering near Filled me with wonder and with fear? Maria's form beheld I then? Or was it the unhappy Zarem, Who jealous thither came again To roam through the deserted harem? That tender look I cannot flee, Those charms still earthly still I see! * * * * * He who the muse and peace adores, Forgetting glory, love, and gold, Again thy ever flowery shores Soon, Salgir! joyful shall behold; The bard shall wind thy rocky ways Filled with fond sympathies, shall view Tauride's bright skies and waves of blue With greedy and enraptured gaze. Enchanting region! full of life Thy hills, thy woods, thy leaping streams, Ambered and rubied vines, all rife With pleasure, spot of fairy dreams! Valleys of verdure, fruits, and flowers, Cool waterfalls and fragrant bowers! All serve the traveller's heart to fill With joy as he in hour of morn By his accustomed steed is borne In safety o'er dell, rock, and hill, Whilst the rich herbage, bent with dews, Sparkles and rustles on the ground, As he his venturous path pursues Where AYOUDAHGA'S crags surround! [1] A Turkish pipe. AMATORY AND OTHER POEMS, BY VARIOUS RUSSIAN AUTHORS. [Several of the following translations were published anonymously, many years since, in the "National Gazette," when edited by Robert Walsh, Esq., and in the "Atlantic Souvenir," and other periodicals.] AMATORY AND OTHER POEMS. SONG.