[293]
In vain the loveliest cheeks and eyes
This Eden of the Earth supplies
Come crowding round--the cheeks are pale,
The eyes are dim:--tho' rich the spot
With every flower this earth has got
What is it to the nightingale
If there his darling rose is not?[294]
In vain the Valley's smiling throng
Worship him as he moves along;
He heeds them not--one smile of hers
Is worth a world of worshippers.
They but the Star's adorers are,
She is the Heaven that lights the Star!
Hence is it too that NOURMAHAL,
Amid the luxuries of this hour,
Far from the joyous festival
Sits in her own sequestered bower,
With no one near to soothe or aid,
But that inspired and wondrous maid,
NAMOUNA, the Enchantress;--one
O'er whom his race the golden sun
For unremembered years has run,
Yet never saw her blooming brow
Younger or fairer than 'tis now.
Nay, rather,--as the west wind's sigh
Freshens the flower it passes by,--
Time's wing but seemed in stealing o'er
To leave her lovelier than before.
Yet on her smiles a sadness hung,
And when as oft she spoke or sung
Of other worlds there came a light
From her dark eyes so strangely bright
That all believed nor man nor earth
Were conscious of NAMOUNA'S birth!
All spells and talismans she knew,
From the great Mantra,[295] which around
The Air's sublimer Spirits drew,
To the gold gems[296] of AFRIC, bound
Upon the wandering Arab's arm
To keep him from the Siltim's[297] harm.
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