 | Poems |  |
218
OSMAN TO ZELIDA.
O! breathe those thrilling sounds once more,
Floating along the winds of even;
While the blue bright waves just kiss the shore,
Then melt as twilight melts from heaven.
Floating along the winds of even;
While the blue bright waves just kiss the shore,
Then melt as twilight melts from heaven.
Sweep, sweep the deep chords of thy lute,
And stir its witching melodies!
And while all else lies asleep and mute,
Faint echo shall shape her low replies!
And stir its witching melodies!
And while all else lies asleep and mute,
Faint echo shall shape her low replies!
Yes, echo and my throbbing heart
Shall catch each cadence of thy strain;
And when the last soft sounds depart,
Shall die—till they revive again!
Shall catch each cadence of thy strain;
And when the last soft sounds depart,
Shall die—till they revive again!
219
'Tis sweet on the moonlighted shore,
When all is charmed into deep repose,
Save the lute and the voice I so much adore,
And perchance the bulbul's song to the rose!
When all is charmed into deep repose,
Save the lute and the voice I so much adore,
And perchance the bulbul's song to the rose!
My Zelida! diamonds may clasp thy zone,
And roses be wreathed in thy braided hair!
But, Zelida, all who behold thee shall own
That thine eye is more bright, and thy cheek more fair.
And roses be wreathed in thy braided hair!
But, Zelida, all who behold thee shall own
That thine eye is more bright, and thy cheek more fair.
That eye is as dark as the depths of night,
When they hang o'er the clouded and troubled waters;
But thy smile! 'tis a heaven of shadowless light,
Thou fairest of Franguestan's fair daughters!
When they hang o'er the clouded and troubled waters;
But thy smile! 'tis a heaven of shadowless light,
Thou fairest of Franguestan's fair daughters!
And Osman is blest—how triumphantly blest,
Since his fate is linked, beloved, with thine!
Ere to-morrow's sun shall sink in the west,
My treasure—my bird—shall for ever be mine.
Since his fate is linked, beloved, with thine!
Ere to-morrow's sun shall sink in the west,
My treasure—my bird—shall for ever be mine.
220
The descendant of despots! the son of a slave—
Would sigh to possess thee—and vainly should sigh!
Earth's monarchs might envy yon little white wave,
Which creeps to my Zelida's feet but to die!
Would sigh to possess thee—and vainly should sigh!
Earth's monarchs might envy yon little white wave,
Which creeps to my Zelida's feet but to die!
But thou must be mine, and mine alone;
Far, far from thy soul be ambition and pride—
Not even to the heir of old Stamboul's throne
Would Osman resign his all-beautiful bride!
Far, far from thy soul be ambition and pride—
Not even to the heir of old Stamboul's throne
Would Osman resign his all-beautiful bride!
Then, O, on the breezy and moonlighted shore,
Breathe the music of passion, the language of soul!
While the stars beam on beam of soft radiancies pour,
And amidst their blue darkness the sleepy waves roll!
Breathe the music of passion, the language of soul!
While the stars beam on beam of soft radiancies pour,
And amidst their blue darkness the sleepy waves roll!
O, those stars, they are lovely—those waves darkly bright;
Yet I look not to them, but to thee—only thee!
For thine eye dazzles deeper! thy cheek wears a light
That makes pallid and dim all besides that we see!
Yet I look not to them, but to thee—only thee!
For thine eye dazzles deeper! thy cheek wears a light
That makes pallid and dim all besides that we see!
221
Then sweep thy soft lute—no Zenana is this!
The free skies are above thee—the wide shore around—
The billows seem murmuring low, as in bliss,
While the air seems oppressed by a hush too profound!
The free skies are above thee—the wide shore around—
The billows seem murmuring low, as in bliss,
While the air seems oppressed by a hush too profound!
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