Page:Landon in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book 1834.pdf/28

Rh

Rh

The softer wish of love to please, What had she now to do with these? She knew herself a bartered slave, Whose only refuge was the grave. Unsoftened now by those sweet notes, Which half subdued the grief they told, Her long black hair neglected floats O’er that wan face, like marble cold; And carelessly her listless hand Wandered above her lute’s command But silently—or just a tone Woke into music, and was gone.

"Come hither, maiden, take thy seat," Nadira said, "here at my feet." And, with the sweetness of a child Who smiles, and deems all else must smile, She gave the blossoms which she held, And praised the singer’s skill the while; Then started with a sad surprise, For tears were in the stranger’s eyes. Ah, only those who rarely know Kind words, can tell how sweet they seem. Great God, that there are those below To whom such words are like a dream.

"Come," said the young Sultana, "come   To our lone garden by the river, Where summer hath its loveliest home,    And where Camdeo fills his quiver. If, as thou sayest, ’tis stored with flowers, Where will he find them fair as ours? And the sweet songs which thou canst sing Methinks might charm away his sting."

The evening banquet soon is spread— There the pomegranate’s rougher red Was cloven, that it might disclose A colour stolen from the rose— The brown pistachio’s glossy shell, The citron where faint odours dwell;