FROM HAFEZ.

THOUGH Sweet as myrtle or the rose,
Or sweetest air that Zephyr blows,
Your balmy lip their breath abjures;
Yet not a Zephyr passing by,
Nor myrtle nor the rose deny,

That in their fragrance we have yours.

FROM THE SAME POET.

No spirits to the earth return,
Dismiss'd from their celestial bourn *
The world solicits them in vain,
Though Virtue calls them back again;
They move not from that place of rest,
For in that slumber they are bless'd.

FROM THE PERSIAN.

"WHAT means that ringlet from thy head,
Which lately took its leave, and fled?
Why twisted is it found?"

She answer'd," Love prolong'd the chace,
And from an elevated place †,

In eddies curling round."

* Shakespeare.

+ This beautiful équivoque is literal from the Persian, as ren

dered by Mr. Gladwin.

FROM JAMI.

FLOWERS of all scent in vain to charm his taste Before the amorous Philomel are plac'd ;

His constant heart away the tempter throws,
No Rival's breath can steal him from the Rose*.

FROM THE PERSIAN.

TO THE SOUL.

Thirty-(the account's your own)—
Years of precious life are flown;

Still

you retain,

your childhood
Thoughtless, prodigal, and vain.
Canst thou on the wheels rely
That with Fortune's chariot fly?
Kings, of memorable reigns,
Live in marble, for their pains;
Heroes perish; and the Fair
Melt into congenial air:

What is life, whose mirrour pleases,
But a shifted flight of breezes?

* Sir William Ouseley observes, that a supposed passion of the Nightingale for the Rose is a favourite Persian image; and quotes from a Sonnet by the celebrated Sadi these lines (meant as one of the highest compliments to his mistress):

"The Nightingale, when Zephyr blows,

For thee would sacrifice the Rose."

He says the Nightingale is enamoured of the Rose; indulges itself in its fragrant luxury (I give his own words) till it falls from its branch helpless to the earth.-For this he appeals to Hyde and Jones.

FROM THE PERSIAN.

THE heart would ask of thee, its pearl,
"Why it's imprison'd by a curl
Of that meand'ring hair?"
She answer'd, "If the heart is mad,
No lighter chain is to be had
That lunatics-can spare."

INSCRIPTION *

BY JEHANGER THE MOGUL Emperor a. d. 1611,

ON A COIN STRUCK BY HIM IN HONOUR TO HIS BRIDE.

THE Coin is now, at Love's demand,

And "By the Emperor's command,”
A hundred ornaments to wear;
For Nourjehum's bright name is there.

IMITATION OF AN ARABIAN POEM

TRANSLATED BY CARLYLE.

WHEN to the hands of Death convey'd

Pearls are by him to be survey'd,
The richest of the heap assign'd
Are in his cabinet enshrin'd.

If gracious Allah could surprize
With such a doom those youthful eyes,
'Tis that his early choice are they

Who love him best, and best obey.

* This Inscription is given in the Persian character, by Mr. Gladwin, in the Summary of Jehanger's Life.

IMITATIONS FROM THE ITALIAN.

ARGUMENT OF ARIOSTO'S APOLOGUE.

Ariosto, upon the elevation of Leo X. to the Pontificate, waited upon him, and received nothing but the aid of a Bull to ensure him in the right of selling his Poem.-His friends condoled with him; and, in the perfection of good-humour, he answered them thus, by an Apologue, sent in a letter to one of his friends. It marks a dignified and philosophie liberality of mind, which makes one love the man, as well as the most playful ingenuity, which could thus turn a misfortune like this into a comic picture.-It is in one of his Epistolary Satires.

PREFACE TO THE APOLOGUE.

"WHY absent, Ludovico, from the chair By Leo fill'd?-the Poet's Friend is there. Away to Rome !-it is the Vatican

That is the very scene for such a man.

Had you but gone to Rome-as quick as thought
Such wit as thine a benefice had caught."
Thus tickled, thus from home I was allur'd,
As if the golden mine could be ensur❜d.
I had been once a favourite of the Pope —
And was it not a patent for my hope?

Amongst his bosom-friends he noted me,
Before his talents rais'd him to the See;
Before proud Florence call'd her Exile home,
I knew him when through deserts he could roam;
Before Urbino cheer'd his falling state,
When, opening wide her hospitable gate,
She gave him spirits of Apollo's train,
Where Sadolet and Bembo* sooth'd his pain.
But, when the Medici their standards rear'd,
The Arts reviv'd, and Faction disappear'd;
When Leo's name the holy Pontiff took,
And wielded in his hand the sainted crook;
Me like an absent Brother he address'd --
Forgive me if it rais'd a Poet's crest!

I saw him—and was kiss'd upon my cheek;
Renew'd the Courtier's homage for a week;
Then homeward from the Summer's dream retir'd,
Cur'd of my hopes-but of the journey tir'd.
By jealous friends Giovanni† was arraign'd,
And libellers the holy man profan'd;

But I defended him—and with a tale,
Which you may read when other comments fail.

* There is infinite address in the mention of their names, for the Pope made their fortune.

†This word is prompted by me as a banter upon the Pope, who had lost his baptismal name, and with it, as it should seem, all memory of his adventures or connexions whilst he bore it.