The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince Edited by R. A. Douglas Lithgow |
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THE ROSE OF CAYPHA. |
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 | The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince |  |
14
THE ROSE OF CAYPHA.
In the sweet shades of Caypha there bloometh a flower,
By a fountain whose music pervadeth the bower;
'Tis the grace of the garden—the glory that gives
An aspect of Heaven to the spot where it lives.
By a fountain whose music pervadeth the bower;
'Tis the grace of the garden—the glory that gives
An aspect of Heaven to the spot where it lives.
Through palm-trees the sun sends his loveliest smile,
The winds, as they pass it, grow sweeter the while;
On its leaves are the love-drops of honey-dew shed,
And the nightingale sings his best song o'er its head.
The winds, as they pass it, grow sweeter the while;
On its leaves are the love-drops of honey-dew shed,
And the nightingale sings his best song o'er its head.
Its eyes, which for tenderness shame the gazelle,
Have the soft, fitful light of the pearl-bearing shell;
Like a lotus that leans on the undulant tide,
The charms of its balmy breast heave and subside.
Have the soft, fitful light of the pearl-bearing shell;
Like a lotus that leans on the undulant tide,
The charms of its balmy breast heave and subside.
So rich is its fragrance that floats on the wind,
That the chieftain who flies from a foeman behind,
Checks his steed to inhale it—again to depart
With new strength in his sinews—new hope in his heart.
That the chieftain who flies from a foeman behind,
Checks his steed to inhale it—again to depart
With new strength in his sinews—new hope in his heart.
The blast of the Simoom may scatter away
Common odours, that cling to the garments of day,
But this, where it enters, remains to imbue
The spirit with sweetness, and holiness, too.
Common odours, that cling to the garments of day,
But this, where it enters, remains to imbue
The spirit with sweetness, and holiness, too.
15
Dear Maiden, whose shadowy tresses down flow,
In wavelets of jet, from the arch of thy brow,
Let me breathe in thine ear, in this eloquent hour,
The musical name of this exquisite flower.
In wavelets of jet, from the arch of thy brow,
Let me breathe in thine ear, in this eloquent hour,
The musical name of this exquisite flower.
Thou blushest! thou droopest! thine eye-lids drop down,
Like the pinions of Even, when sunlight is flown!
The swell of thy bosom enraptures my sight,—
That sigh makes enamoured the breezes of night!
Like the pinions of Even, when sunlight is flown!
The swell of thy bosom enraptures my sight,—
That sigh makes enamoured the breezes of night!
Forgive me, dear Zora! for thou art the Rose
Whose beauty hath broken my pride and repose;
Oh! let me transplant thee, that fondly I may
Watch over thy loveliness day after day!
Whose beauty hath broken my pride and repose;
Oh! let me transplant thee, that fondly I may
Watch over thy loveliness day after day!
I will cherish and cheer thee, my Peri—my dove,
With the dews of Affection, the sunshine of Love,
And the barrenest spot where thy presence may be
Will be blooming as Paradise, dearest, with Thee!
With the dews of Affection, the sunshine of Love,
And the barrenest spot where thy presence may be
Will be blooming as Paradise, dearest, with Thee!
| The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince | |