Persian love elegies | ||
PERSIAN LOVE ELEGIES.
ELEGY I.
[To Love, the song of hapless Selim flows]
SELIM'S INVOCATION TO LOVE. HE DETERMINES TO WRITE NO MORE FOR FAME, BUT TO GAIN THE REGARD OF MIRVA HIS MISTRESS.
Ah! bless the swain who sighs before thy shrine:
Lo! ev'ry dear delight which rapture knows,
Queen of the tender heart, is wholly thine.
Diviner hopes my glowing fancy move:
I ask the muses for their sweetest lays,
To tell a beauteous maid how much I love.
She waits to see us on the mournful bier,
Before she pours the sweet ungrateful strain:
What cruel mock'ry to the lifeless ear!
And all the wishes of my soul impart:
Be mine the rapture, 'midst her smiles to read
The name of Selim on the virgin's heart.
Far from my presence let indiff'rence fly;
Far let the silent sullen tongue remove,
The careless air and cold unsocial eye.
When soft consenting sighs our toils requite!
Wild from our hearts what joy extatic flows,
How from each yielding charm we drink delight!
The soft desire, the tender sigh revile:
Ah! let my bosom feel th'inspiring ray;
For what is life unblest by beauty's smile!
ELEGY II.
[From Spahan's walls the pride of Persia stray'd]
HE GIVES AN ACCOUNT OF MIRVA'S RETIRING FROM SPAHAN, THE CAPITAL OF PERSIA, TO THE VALLEY OF ZULPHA.
With peace to wander through the flow'ry vale;
With meek Content to smile, the dove-ey'd maid,
And breathe with rosy health the morning gale,
And crown her valley with unfading bloom;
Where, to the winds, whole woods of fragrance wave,
And tuneful rapture floats from gloom to gloom.
Where prostitution pours her wanton songs,
Where abject slav'ry bends the neck to pride,
And Tumult thunders with his thousand tongues.
To steal her beauties from the public view:
How like the berry that through Zulpha glows,
And hides beneath the leaf its blushing hue.
Life, like the sun, to Persia's realms impart;
Tho' at her bloom the rose of Salem die,
What are the virgin's beauties to her heart!
Mean are my merits, hers how far above!
Yet can I boast what she alone requires,
A heart to guard her, and a soul to love.
What, tho' no gold their humble cot displays:
Content, divine Content with careless air,
'Midst folly's palace bids the bauble blaze.
Where rankling Jealousies in ambush lie;
Where mad Ambition plum'd with eagle wings,
Strikes at the stars his wild aspiring eye.
Yet slav'ry scarce can dream of royal woe!
Too oft they bleed by mis'ry's goading thorn,
And look with envy on the world below.
To cull the sweets of nature's simple vale,
To join the hermit in the moss-clad cell,
And carol with the daughters of the dale.
And to their wishes heap their golden piles;
To one fair virgin let me breathe my vow,
And let my only treasure be her smiles.
ELEGY III.
[Whilst Achmet]
SELIM'S ADDRESS TO HIS MISTRESS.
And mourns amidst the fair Sultana train;
Will Zulpha's virgin hear the hopeless sigh,
Breath'd from the glooms of Salem's humble plain?
What all confess, that none like thee are fair;
Can I, possest of tender love alone,
Touch thy soft bosom with my soul's despair?
Thought urging thought along my bosom glows;
Thy smiles alone the sinking wretch can save,
And lull the storm that wrecks him, to Repose.
Ev'n sighs are weak my anguish to impart:
I blush to tell thee all my vain desires:
Oh! read my wishes in a bleeding heart!
When will the shepherd's long lost peace return?
Ah! why did fate disclose that form divine,
To bid my captive heart admire and mourn?
Whose beauties fir'd me with the fond alarm;
Blame not my sighs, but blame the guilty star,
Which bounteous gave thee ev'ry grace to charm.
Whose frowns the lover's fruitless sighs reprove,
Thy dove-like nature will not scorn my pray'r,
But learn to pity where it cannot love.
Our humble sighs, with pride and hard disdain;
Is it a crime to love a beauteous maid?
Enough we suffer when we sigh in vain!
Mark its wild tumults at thy magic name;
Pitying they hear my hurry'd fault'ring tongue,
And see me tremble at a rival flame.
Nature's still voice how eloquent, how strong!
Confusion, blushes, sighs and starting tears,
Paint with more force than all the pow'rs of song.
In wan despondence to these shades I stray'd;
Alas! thine image still pursues me here,
Still haunts me through the solitary glade.
But lo! not death his light'ning feet elude:
Firm on his purpled side the deadly dart
Stings as he bounds along, and drinks his blood.
ELEGY IV.
[On Ogar's hoary cliff I sit and sigh]
SELIM LAMENTS HIS FATE ON THE CLIFFS OF OGAR IN THE PROVINCE OF SHIRVAN.
Whose base the deep's eternal thunder braves,
Whilst through the region of the troubled air,
The madding Genius of the tempest raves.
What are the gloomy waves which round me roll?
Calms to the raging tempest of my mind!
Rills to the mountain surges of my soul!
From morn to eve I droop with grief forlorn:
When scouling night begins her dreary reign,
Lone, in some cavern's murky round, I mourn.
No hopes, alas! the virgin's looks impart:
Inform me, Fair-one, what can win thy smile;
And heave, Oh heave! the mountain from my heart.
Thou bid'st my heart no more with anguish heave:
Command the raging tempest not to blow,
And bid the Caspian smooth his gloomy wave.
Where broods wan horror, darkling, lorn and lone,
With stretch'd ear drinking, 'midst the twilight hour,
The toad's hoarse croak, and owl's discordant moan.
Where on the wild heath swells the frequent mound,
That holds, ah! many a son of martial fame,
Whose ghosts inspiring terror shriek around.
Where the lone taper near th'unconscious clay,
Sheds on the horrors of the baleful gloom,
The silent glimm'ring solitary ray.
In deathful echoes, shall Despondence bring
The saddest visions on the mind's wan eye,
That ever wav'd on Fancy's blackest wing.
Where lives no flow'r, nor cooling springs arise;
Where sallow, parch'd and panting for the stream
Thirst, on the flaming desart, gasps and dies.
Holds damned converse with the sheeted dead;
Where Night's pale fiends to her's unite their yell
And fright ev'n Horror from her midnight shade:
Where the fierce Arab haunts the murd'rous wood,
Where threat'ning loud the headlong lion roams,
Rolls the wild glaring eye, and roars for blood:
Nor shall my softest sighs the nymph reprove:
Whate'er the virgin can command, I dare,
But lose her image and forget to love.
ELEGY V.
[How few are lur'd by Love's delightful voice!]
HE IS PERSUADED BY HIS FRIENDS TO RELINQUISH HIS PURSUIT OF MIRVA, AND TO ADDRESS SOME OTHER FAIR-ONE. HE REJECTS THEIR ADVICE.
To sordid wealth each youthful flatterer flies;
But Fortune well rewards the venal choice,
With hourly discord and repentant sighs.
Nor bid me to the nymphs of Tauris kneel;
I cannot pour my flatt'ries to the fair,
Nor feign the passion which I cannot feel.
Which Spahan boasts, and Casbin's walls display;
Sweet are the nymphs of Salem's peaceful shades,
And sweet the nymphs where Domar winds away.
Can swell the constant rapture in my breast,
No! 'tis that secret charm, and only thine,
Can make me happy and secure me blest.
To some new nymph my lifeless hand impart,
How could I press with love th'expecting maid,
How bear the murmurs of a breaking heart?
Pleas'd I'll resign the fruits of all my toil:
I cannot be unhappy in my doom,
If on her lover Mirva deign to smile.
Nor sink in dark despair my chearful mind;
Mere clouds that pass the radiant orb of day,
Dim for a while, but leave no trace behind.
'Midst the wild roar of Tadmur's howling waste,
Who weds the virgin to his heart unknown,
Tho' with the treasures of Golconda grac'd.
Each fondling act, the soul's delight to prove,
The soft endearment kindling soft desires,
The sigh, the smile, the tear of tender love.
The wish to part, the deep desponding sigh:
I see th'averted cheek, th'upbraiding tear,
Scorn's killing smile and Hate's disdainful eye.
Desire with other damsels to be blest,
Lose the soft image of my long lov'd maid,
I'd tear the fond inconstant from my breast.
“The pride of Persia, Selim shall be thine.”
No more she charms my solitary hour:
No more I kindle at her voice divine.
Haste with thy smiles and magic looks along;
I know thee faithless, yet thy voice adore:
O haste, and still delight me with thy song.
ELEGY VI.
[Dear to the eye is beauty's melting charm]
SELIM DECLAIMS ON THE DANGERS OF BEAUTY; AND ACCUSES HIS COUNTRYMEN OF RUINING ARTLESS INNOCENCE.
Yet the sweet cause of many a deadly sigh:
Oft to the fair possessor, fraught with harm,
Whene'er unwatch'd by wisdom's eagle eye.
Each art to lull the simple maid explores;
With horror big contrives the villain plan,
And seeks to ruin whom his eye adores!
Yet bids that cheek divine with blushes burn:
“Sweet is her voice,” yet swells that voice with sighs
And bids that bosom which delights him, mourn.
Marks on her cheek the sallow hand of care,
Eyes the wild tumult of her lab'ring heart,
Yet, meanly triumphs at her deep despair.
What from the secret mourner wipe the stain?
Not all the gems of Persia's splendid throne!
A thousand years of anguish, mourn in vain!
To force from artless innocence the tear:
How base to doom the virgin's heart to bleed,
Because she fondly deem'd your sighs sincere.
Who chill ev'n horrors dreary soul with dread,
Who rush where blood-ey'd Murder leads the way,
And wolf-like howl along the midnight shade.
And wanton, thus our Persian maids destroy:
The deed which robs us of their fav'ring smile,
From Life's few pleasures steals its brightest joy.
ELEGY VII.
[To false delights the youth of Spahan fly]
SELIM TO THE YOUTH OF SPAHAN. HE ADVISES THEM TO DROP THEIR UNLAWFUL CONNECTIONS WITH THE DAMSELS OF GEORGIA, A PROVINCE REMARKABLE FOR BEAUTIFUL WOMEN. HE FANCIES HIMSELF IN POSSESSION OF MIRVA.
Who court for happiness the wanton's arms;
That darts on all the fond inflaming eye,
And choiceless yields to all, for gold, her charms.
And print with transport wild the burning kiss;
Doth friendship's breath inspire th'unhallow'd joy,
Or love's sweet spirit swell the surge of bliss?
The valley's short liv'd flow'r that blooms and fades,
A sun that pours a momentary glare,
Whose radiant orb a simple vapour shades.
Than kindles on the cheek of virgin morn;
Their eyes, tho' rivals to the di'mond's ray;
Tho' Tarkies' snows their polish'd necks adorn;
Truth's sacred voice their cultur'd minds revere:
Tho' in their eyes the di'mond's beam be lost,
Lo! modesty, a nobler gem is there!
To mental beauty let your hearts be led:
Bid, by your flight, the venal wanton mourn,
And press in tears her solitary bed.
And, bent to please, exhausts each winning art,
With rapture melts you 'midst her glowing charms;
She leads your passions captive, not the heart.
Lo! of a tender partner I'm possest:
What bliss her fragrant beauties to enfold,
And soothe my slumbers on her faithful breast!
His wrinkled hand her matchless bloom invade:
Still to my faded charmer will I kneel,
And love her most when ev'ry grace is dead.
Hard is his heart, in ev'ry virtue poor:
Hard is his heart to wound the fair distress'd.
Who only weeps that she can charm no more.
Because her cheek no more to rapture warms:
Base, to forget the joys her beauty gave,
And oh! forget, it faded in his arms.
When Death's pale horrors gloom around his head!
Without a friend to close his hopeless eye,
Drop the due tear, and mourn his parting shade.
A tender wife the hour of dread will chear;
Who, whilst she sooths with hope my short'ning breath,
Shrinks from my gaze to wipe the hopeless tear.
And steal from deep desponding thought the sigh:
To drown in mirth the murmurs of Despair,
And cloath with chearful smiles her haggard eye.
And charm the horrors of my fate away;
Bid her pale cheek the faint-forc'd smile assume:
Ah! not the smile that bless'd my healthful day.
What woes, alas! her tender heart will rend!
Her flowing tears shall be her husband's fame,
And to his mem'ry make the world a friend.
ELEGY VIII.
[Curst be the wretch who cries “the gentle maid]
SELIM EXPRESSES HIS INDIGNATION AGAINST SUCH AS DENY THE EXISTENCE OF WOMEN IN A FUTURE STATE HE PARTICULARLY REPROVES SADI, AN ELEGANT POET (THE PETRARCH) OF PERSIA, FOR ADVANCING IN HIS POEMS SO CRUEL AN OPINION.
Drinks not in yonder Sphere the living spring:
Doom'd like the transient flow'r to blow and fade,
To die like insects with a painted wing.”
Which Love inspires and Wisdom's beams illume,
Giv'n were they only to delight our gaze?
For sensual blisses did they only bloom?
Fame through each city wafts the poet's praise:
'Midst the rude Turk the name of Sadi rings,
The savage Arab softens at his lays.
No more the Muses' sacred art profane;
Ah! think what praises to the Fair belong,
Whose soft'ning beauty gave the world thy Strain.
Her smiles alone the melting verse inspire;
Ah! should the blooming nymph her smiles withdraw,
I see thee hapless, and extinct thy fire.
The lays of Sadi ever grac'd his tongue;
How oft he charm'd the list'ning ear of Night,
And charm'd Night's pale companion with thy song.
The shaded warbler dropp'd her plaintive tune:
Intent, the pale-ey'd ghost forgot to wail,
And stare despondence on the wandering moon.
That blooming crown which all the muses wove;
Blest on the tender Sadi to bestow
The fairest garland of th'Aonian grove.
Offended Beauty spurns thy songs away:
The Muses now their fav'rite bard disclaim,
Despise the poet, and forget his lay.
What generous youth of Persia's wide domains?
Thy name would now the page of Fame defile,
Now none but Envy shall repeat thy strains.
ELEGY IX.
[What demons keep my soul's delight away]
SELIM HAVING ENGAGED HIS MISTRESS'S AFFECTIONS, AGREES TO MEET HER IN A RETIRED PART OF THE VALLEY.
And cruel thus my fondest wish invade?
Alas! I tremble at the setting ray,
Pale ev'ning waves around a dreadful shade!
Impatience wilder with each moment grows:
Thou loit'ring fair-one bless th'appointed bow'r,
And snatch thy lover from a thousand woes.
From glade to glade with wild emotion move:
Now turn and sigh, now move and turn again,
Devour each sound, and chide my ling'ring love.
And anxious murmur to the desart air;
Now call on Slumber to my closing eye:
But Slumber lights not on the lids of Care.
Wild as its waves my thoughts succeeding roll,
Cool reason vainly soothes the wretch to sleep,
Ah! what is reason to the love-sick soul!
Whose simple melodies my shades inspire,
Oh! that my bosom felt your happy hour,
Oh! that my voice could join your chearful choir.
From joy to joy my heart so lately flew!
With me my moments never left a sigh,
Nor bath'd my lids in sorrow's baleful dew.
Yet at each idle sound alarm'd I start:
To meet her, panting ev'ry nerve I strain,
And show too plain her triumph o'er my heart.
My cheek that redden'd with dispair turns pale.
With disappointment drops my languid eye,
Each pining feature tells a mournful tale.
Behold the melancholy bird of night!
In vain along the winding gloom I weep,
And wish in vain to stop the parting light.
ELEGY X.
[Faint as the lustre of a lonely star]
DISAPPOINTED AT NOT MEETING HER, HE ACCUSES HER OF INCONSTANCY.
That sheds through night's abyss his distant fire;
Hope feebly glimmer'd on my heart's despair:
Behold at length her paly lamp expire!
Hath lodg'd a thousand scorpions in my breast:
O say what happier rival wins thy heart,
Is Selim there no more a welcome guest?
For a false fair-one fondly sigh'd so long!
Why dear deceiver did thy charms prevail?
Thy charms the subject of my ev'ry song.
False is the damsel that your wonder drew:
Ye nymphs who listen'd to the lavish'd praise,
My soul's soft idol proves at length untrue.
Let not my fate your sighs, ye shepherds, draw:
For faithless Beauty drop the pitying tear,
And grieve so fair a diamond holds a flaw.
Ah! see the tear by blushing Virtue shed!
Lurks Perfidy beneath that heav'nly smile?
See Love with horror mark the guilty maid!
Restless for her it heaves with constant sighs,
My wounded heart of cruelty complains,
Yet softly pleads her pardon whilst it dies.
Lo! scarcely vanish'd is the blush divine,
That modest deepen'd on the virgin's cheek,
When yielding pleas'd, she gave her hand to mine.
Scarce from that hand my raptur'd lips I part:
Ev'n now the echo of my joys I hear,
And feel th'extatic tremble of my heart.
Each Persian maid will blush her name to hear:
Those walls which boasted her of Spahan born,
Will shut their gates for ever on the fair.
For her my friendly wish shall ever flow;
May injur'd Love forget my pitied sighs,
And make her blisses equal to my woe.
ELEGY XI.
[To thee, my Rival, by her smiles betray'd]
SELIM ADDRESSES HIS SUPPOSED RIVAL.
I urge no counsel, all advice is lost!
Thy heart hath felt the fascinating maid:
On Love's wild surge I see thy reason tost.
Or hears unmov'd her love-commanding tongue?
Keen as the light'ning's momentary fire,
Sweet as the moon-light warbler's melting song!
In vain would Memory my wrongs enroll:
One sigh from her would waft my rage away,
One tear of penitence dissolve my soul.
ELEGY XII.
[Soft as the sighs of her who died for love]
SELIM BEING INFORMED THAT HIS MISTRESS WAS FORCED FROM HER HABITATION BY THE ARABS; THAT SHE WAS RECOVERED BY SOME PERSIAN SOLDIERY AND CARRIED TO THE EMPEROR'S HARAM; HE LAMENTS HER MISFORTUNE.
The plaintive lute of Pity moans forlorn:
From Irvan's bow'rs, and Siloe's ravag'd grove,
The melting airs of Melancholy mourn.
Dimm'd is the living lustre of thy eye,
Dimm'd are those radiant rivals to the sun,
Which drew from ev'ry Persian youth the sigh.
For seldom now in peace her eye-lids close,
Sweet Innocence had bless'd her chearful Day,
And Love had charm'd her Evening to Repose.
To lead her smiling through the rural shade:
From her she wings, for ever wings her flight,
Whilst Love forsakes the solitary maid.
That lately droop'd at thy superior bloom,
Now waves in wanton triumph to the gale,
Proclaims thy fall, and pleas'd insults thy Doom.
Beneath the blasting hand of death to fade,
Calm had I led thee to the tomb of peace,
Deck'd thy pale shrine, and hail'd thy spotless shade.
With white-stol'd nymphs had breath'd the softest sighs,
Thy fate had forc'd from ev'ry lid the tear,
Thy sweet remains with fragrance fill'd the skies.
With ev'ry flow'r of Zulpha's green domain.
There had their nightly harps melodious mourn'd,
And Virtue's sigh had swell'd the tender strain.
Nor spirits strike their lyres where thou art laid,
No white-rob'd virgins weeping o'er thy urn,
With melting swains shall wail thy sullen shade.
Nor nightly o'er thee waste his little breath;
But boding ravens wave the dusky wing,
And mournful croak the hoarse dread dirge of death.
And storms indignant howl around thy head;
The light'nings livid blaze shall fire the gloom,
And pealing thunder rock thy lonely bed.
With thee thy mem'ry sleeps within the tomb:
Lo! pale Oblivion o'er thy blasted name,
Shall wave with sullen look his deepest gloom.
In Fame's fair page thy sacred Name shall live:
For thee, tho' fall'n, the tear of Pity flow,
Whilst tender Pity hath a tear to give.
ELEGY XIII.
[“To thee, who rul'st o'er Persia's wide domain]
MIRVA'S SUPPLICATION TO THE SULTAN.
The wretch of Zulpha pours the suppliant sigh:
Shall Love the bleeding bosom bare in vain,
And Pity vainly raise th'imploring eye?
Nor thus her cheek with burning blushes stain;
The Monarch's heart, that melts at Virtue's tear,
More than a thousand triumphs gilds his reign.
Ev'n now the vallies shriek, the hamlets burn:
See Havock pour the blaze from shade to shade!
See the wan shepherd o'er the ruin mourn!
Force from thy eye the sympathizing stream;
But shall thy cruelty the wretch o'ertake,
'Scap'd from the ruffian's sword and wasting flame?
If one fond glance thy savage hope inspires;
Love's keenest vengeance smite the guilty maid,
False to her fame and faithless to his fires.
Whose song so often stole my ravish'd ear:
Let Selim's name embalm my constant sigh,
His image brighten ev'ry falling tear.
Mir's ecchoing rill, and Dinur's conscious grove;
Where Truth and Selim won a willing maid,
Where flow'd the shepherd's sigh of purest love.
Ah! cease to sooth a captive's hapless hours:
Harsh to my ear is Pleasure's careless song,
And dim the radiance scepter'd Grandeur show'rs.
The ruby's blush, the di'mond's light'ning beam,
Attendant slaves, or music's wanton air,
Or floods of fragrance that around me stream?
Smooth with gay smiles the wrinkled front of Care,
Chace from wan Melancholy's eye the cloud,
And lull the deep-ton'd murmurs of Despair?
Where servile Flatt'ry crawls a welcome guest,
Where Prostitution darts the wanton glance,
And Envy's demons gnaw the throbbing breast:
Where growling fate, the restless savage roams;
Where Horror breathes around a death-like dread,
And crowding spectres haunt the twilight glooms.
Deep sounding to the captive's hollow sigh:
Where the sad pond'ring wretch in thought profound,
Nails to the murky floor his haggard eye.
And blest with blooms by Beauty's pencil spread;
Retire, sweet strangers to the throbbing breast,
And court, of Solitude her deepest shade.
Where Love in safety points the tender gaze:
Where feeds, young Innocence, her cooing dove,
And meek Contentment pours the song of praise.
Whilst Pride the flatt'ring pompous tale imparts,
Far from those bow'rs each blushing damsel bear,
Nor give to Mis'ry's gripe their gentle hearts.
Springs to defend th'endanger'd young from harm,
The fierce, the wild-ey'd Vulture, bath'd in blood,
Feels for her youngling's cry the fond alarm.”
Desire with Virtue in the monarch strove:
Be blest, be Selim thine, (at length) he cry'd,
Then gave the Maid to liberty and love.
The NYMPH of TAURIS.
Who treads the wild of life, nor meets a thorn?
To grief is god-like Virtue doom'd to bend;
The turtle eye of Innocence to mourn.
Where Tauris lifts with pride her hundred tow'rs,
Far from the precincts of her native plain,
Breathes her last sigh in Spahan's hapless bow'rs.
At Nora's tomb, each nymph of Spahan sighs;
While sadly sweet along the list'ning gloom,
On Sorrow's lyre the dirge complaining dies.
And scatter incense on the hallow'd ground;
Where waving mournful o'er the lonely shrine,
The grove in silent horror glooms around.
Thy gentle ghost her grateful daughters mourn;
Her sons in sorrow heave the fruitless sigh,
And melt in visions o'er thy distant urn.
In Spahan's valley sleeps the beauteous maid;
No prowling Arab shall thy tomb profane,
Breathe on thy shrine and wound thy shrinking shade.
Shall bid their thunders roll, the tempest rave:
No livid light'nings through the grove shall glare,
To blast th'eternal bloom that decks thy grave.
Heav'ns mildest dews thy humble bed adorn:
Hence shall the songster mount on early wing,
And warble round thee e'er he meets the morn.
A Heart by all the Virtues lov'd in vain!
Pale, on her tears, shall rise the Star of eve,
And Midnight hear her pitied voice complain.
That wakes to gladness all the world below,
In sorrow find her o'er thy silent urn,
A melancholy monument of woe.
No Smile, her paly cheek, but of Despair,
To life's last sand her soul for thee shall sigh,
For thee her closing lids shall shed the tear.
Neglects to spread the flowret o'er thy tomb,
From such may Fortune snatch her fav'ring gale,
And demons blast their hopes of brightest bloom.
Nor bid a drooping brother haste away,
Think on our loss in thee, thou hapless Fair,
And think how short is life, one little day!
Too soon his fate shall make an empire bleed,
What virtues, ah! to Persias' land are lost,
When such lie number'd with the silent dead!
And sighing blend his sacred name with thine,
Where beam the worthy with distinguished day,
Where crown'd with Glory glows thy ancient line.
Persian love elegies | ||