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While I in fix'd attention gaze,
If e'er thou breathe thy plaintive lay,
And while, though others loudly praise,
I deeply sigh and nothing say:

While I reject thy offer'd hand,
And shun the touch which others seek,
Alone with thee in silence stand,
Nor dare, though chance befriend me, speak

Ah! Laura, while I thus impart
The ardent love in which I pine,
While all these symptoms speak my heart,
Say, why should doubt inhabit thine?



The russet suit of camel's hair,

With spirits light, and eye serene,
Is dearer to my bosom far

Than all the trappings of a queen.

+ Maisuna was a daughter of the tribe of Calab, and was married whilst very young to the Khaliph Mowiah. This exalted situation, however, by na.

The humble tent, and murmuring breeze

That whistles thro' its fluttering walls,
My unaspiring fancy please

Better than towers and splendid halls.

The attendant colts that bounding fly,

And frolic by the litter's side,
Are dearer in Maisuna's eye,

Than gorgeous mules in all their pride.

The watch-dog's voice that bays, whene'er

A stranger seeks his master's cot,
Sounds sweeter in Maisuna's ear,

Than yonder trumpet's long-drawn note.

The rustic youth, unspoil'd by art,

Son of my kindred, poor but free,
Will ever to Maisuna's heart

Be dearer, pamper'd fool, than thee.

means suited the disposition of Maisuna; and, amidst all the pomp and splendour of Damascus, she languished for the simple pleasures of her native desert.

These feelings gave birth to the preceding simple stanzas, which she took delight in singing, whenever she could find an opportunity to indulge her melancholy in private. She was overheard one day by Mowiah, who, as a punishment, ordered her to retire from court. Maisuna immediately obeyed, and taking her infant son, Yezid, with her, returned to Yeman, her native place, to enjoy what“ was dearer to her bosom far than all the trappings of a queen,"




I saw thy form in youthful prime,

Nor thought that pale decay
Would steal before the steps of Time,

And waste its bloom away, Mary!
Yet still thy features wore that light

Which fleets not with the breath ;
And life ne'er look’d more purely bright

Than in thy smile of death, Mary!

As streams that run o'er golden mines,

With modest murmurs glide,
Nor seem to know the wealth that shines

Within their gentle tide, Mary!
So, veil'd beneath a simple guise,

Thy radiant genius shone,
And that which charmed all other eyes,

Seem'd worthless in thy own, Mary!

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If souls could always dwell above,

Thou ne'er hadst left thy sphere;
Or, could we keep the souls we love,

We ne'er had lost thee here, Mary!
Tho' many a gifted mind we meet,

Tho' fairest forms we see,
To live with them is far less sweet

Than to remember thee, Mary!

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Prove false to thee, my love !-ah! ng

It never shall be said
A heart, so spotless, pure as thine,

Was e'er by me betray'd, Mary.
One richer choose than thee, dear maid !

No, ne'er at splendor's shrine,
For wealth of worlds would I forego

The right to call thee mine, Mary.

Nor e'er shall beauty, save thine own,

A moment o'er me sway,
For thou, with every earthly charm,

Hast those will ne'er decay, Mary.
Then from thy breast chase every fear,

For thou art all to me;
And nought, and less than nought, this world

Would seem, if wanting thee, Mary.



AIR-Alexander Donn's Strathspey.

The midges dance aboon the burn,

The dew begins to fa',
The pairtricks, down the rushy howm,

Set up their e’ening ca';
Now loud and clear the blackbird's sang

Rings through the briery shaw,
While, fleeting gay, the swallows play

Around the castle wa'.

* This song, though not generally known, our readers will be gratified to learn, is the production of the late R. Tannahin.

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