Father, I firmly do believe— I _know_—for Death who comes for me From regions of the blest afar, Where there is nothing to deceive, Hath left his iron gate ajar, And rays of truth you cannot see Are flashing thro’ Eternity—— I do believe that Eblis hath A snare in every human path; Else how, when in the holy grove I wandered of the idol, Love,— Who daily scents his snowy wings With incense of burnt offerings From the most unpolluted things, Whose pleasant bowers are yet so riven Above with trellised rays from Heaven No mote may shun—no tiniest fly— The lightning of his eagle eye— How was it that Ambition crept, Unseen, amid the revels there, Till growing bold, he laughed and leapt In the tangles of Love’s very hair? [Illustration: TIMOUR] AL AARAAF [Illustration] AL AARAAF. PART I. [Illustration] O! nothing earthly save the ray (Thrown back from flowers) of Beauty’s eye, As in those gardens where the day Springs from the gems of Circassy— O! nothing earthly save the thrill Of melody in woodland rill— Or (music of the passion-hearted) Joy’s voice so peacefully departed That like the murmur in the shell, Its echo dwelleth and will dwell— O! nothing of the dross of ours— Yet all the beauty—all the flowers That list our Love, and deck our bowers— Adorn yon world afar, afar The wandering star. ’Twas a sweet time for Nesace—for there Her world lay lolling on the golden air, Near four bright suns—a temporary rest— An oasis in desert of the blest. Away—away—’mid seas of rays that roll Empyrean splendour o’er th’ unchained soul— The soul that scarce (the billows are so dense) Can struggle to its destined eminence— To distant spheres, from time to time, she rode, And late to ours, the favoured one of God— But, now, the ruler of an anchored realm, She throws aside the sceptre—leaves the helm, And, amid incense and high spiritual hymns, Laves in quadruple light her angel limbs. Now happiest, loveliest in yon lovely Earth, Whence sprang the “Idea of Beauty” into birth, (Falling in wreaths thro’ many a startled star, Like woman’s hair ’mid pearls, until, afar, It lit on hills Achaian, and there dwelt,) She looked into Infinity—and knelt. Rich clouds, for canopies, about her curled— Fit emblems of the model of her world— Seen but in beauty—not impeding sight— Of other beauty glittering thro’ the light— A wreath that twined each starry form around, And all the opal’d air in colour bound.