THE COMPLAINT OF MIRZA,
TO SELIMA HIS MISTRESS.
Where is the nymph of Sardi's green domain,
The nymph, whom every bard of Persia sings?
To find the wand'rer out, and sooth my pain,
Sweet bird of morn, to Mirza lend thy wings.
But wherefore seek the nymph of Sardi's vale,
Who sullen slies where Horar's waters roll;
Scorns all my plaints, that mourn along the gale,
And scorns the surge of grief, that sinks my soul?
Ah! can that cheek where Beauty's summer dwells,
Retain a smile, whilst Mirza's sorrows flow?
Ah! can that heart, that every softness swells,
Forbear to heave on Mirza's songs of woe?
Come, like the morn, pure virgin of delight,
And, blushing, chase the cloud of Mirza's fears
Come, like the sun upon the dews of night,
And with thy radiance, smile away my tears.
