Page:Lalla Rookh - Moore - 1817.djvu/77



His breath is the soul of flowers like these, And his floating eyes--oh! they resemble Blue water-lilies, when the breeze Is making the stream around them tremble.

Hail to thee, hail to thee, kindling power! Spirit of Love, Spirit of Bliss! Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour, And there never was moonlight so sweet as this.

By the fair and brave Who blushing unite, Like the sun and wave, When they meet at night;

By the tear that shows When passion is nigh, As the rain-drop flows From the heat of the sky;

By the first love-beat Of the youthful heart,