Page:Oriental Sketches Dramatic Sketches and Tales.pdf/18

Rh

Empress of beauty! must those eyes of light, Stars of my soul, that o'er life's paths have thrown Rays than the sun's beams more serenely bright, Be quenched in darkness; has their lustre flown For ever; and the vermeil of thy lips Sustained a last, immutable eclipse?

Oh! thou wert far more beautiful than those Fair forms of geniï by poets sung, More blooming than thine own Cashmerian rose, O'er thy soft cheek a crimson tint was flung, Like morn's first flushes, or the blush that dyes The glowing sun-sets of our eastern skies.

Fair as thou wert, thy beauty's light was dim To the more holy radiance of thine heart, For thou wert pure as heaven-born seraphim, Thou wert my blessed one—thou art, thou art— Still dost thou live and breathe, and I may strain, Thy form in rapture to my breast again.