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Persian love elegies

To which is added The nymph of Tauris [by John Wolcot]

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 I. 
 II. 
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 IV. 
ELEGY IV.
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
  


9

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.

On Ogar's hoary cliff I sit and sigh,
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 tumults of the howling wind?
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!
Here like the senseless statue, o'er the main,
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.
Intent to please, I vainly urg'd my toil,
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.

10

Thou bid'st my eye no more with sorrow flow;
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.
For thee, I'll dauntless tread the time-struck tow'r,
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.
For thee, I'll wander by the moon's pale beam,
Where on the wild heath swells the frequent mound,
That holds, ah! many a son of martial fame,
Whose ghosts inspiring terror shriek around.
For thee, I'll haunt the mansion of the tomb,
Where the lone taper near th'unconscious clay,
Sheds on the horrors of the baleful gloom,
The silent glimm'ring solitary ray.
There, whilst the vault resounds my plaintive sigh,
In deathful echoes, shall Despondence bring
The saddest visions on the mind's wan eye,
That ever wav'd on Fancy's blackest wing.

11

For thee I'll glow beneath the burning beam,
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.
Where the dark Witch amidst the murky cell,
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:
Lo! to the depths of Erac's sounding glooms,
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:
I go; if such the wishes of my Fair;
Nor shall my softest sighs the nymph reprove:
Whate'er the virgin can command, I dare,
But lose her image and forget to love.