And every woe a tear can claim

420

Except an erring sister's shame.

*

*

The Mind, that broods o'er guilty woes,
Is like the Scorpion girt by fire,
In circle narrowing as it glows

The flames around their captive close,

245

Till inly search'd by thousand throes,

And maddening in her ire,

One sad and sole relief she knows,
The sting she nourish'd for her foes,
Whose venom never yet was vain,

Gives but one pang, and cures all pain,

And darts into her desperate brain.—
So do the dark in soul expire,

430

Millions of lamps proclaim'd the feast Of Bairam through the boundless East. "Twas then she went as to the bath,

Which Hassan vainly search'd in wrath,

Her eye's dark charm 'twere vain to tell,

But gaze on that of the Gazelle,

It will assist thy fancy well,

As large, as languishingly dark,

But Soul beam'd forth in every spark

That darted from beneath the lid,

Bright as the jewel of Giamschid 2

470

475

Yea, Soul, and should our prophet say

That form was nought but breathing clay,

By Alla! I would answer nay;

Though on Al-Sirat's "arch I stood,

480

Her mate-stern Hassan, who was he?

Alas! that name was not for thee!

*

Stern Hassan hath a journey ta'en

With twenty vassals in his train,

520

Each arm'd as best becomes a man
With arquebuss and ataghan;