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Rh

Rh And when the wind disperses these, The faint scent of the lemon trees Mingles with that rich sigh which dwells Within the baubool’s* golden bells. The dark green peepul’s† glossy leaves, Like mirrors each a ray receives, While luminous the moonlight falls, O’er pearl kiosk and marble walls, Those graceful palaces that stand Most like the work of peri-land. And rippling to the lovely shore, The river tremulous with light, On its small waves, is covered o’er With the sweet offerings of the night— Heaps of that scented grass whose bands Have all been wove by pious hands, Or wreaths, where fragrantly combined, Red and white lotus flowers are twined. And on the deep blue waters float Many a cocoa-nut’s small boat, Holding within the lamp which bears The maiden’s dearest hopes and prayers, Watch’d far as ever eye can see, A vain but tender augury. Alas! this world is not his home, And still love trusts that signs will come From his own native world of bliss, To guide him through the shades of this. Dreams, omens, he delights in these, For love is linked with fantasies

But hark! upon the plaining wind Zilara’s music floats again; That midnight breeze could never find A meeter echo than that strain, Sad as the sobbing gale that sweeps The last sere leaf which autumn keeps, Yet sweet as when the waters fall And make some lone glade musical.