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 the eye, and seemed to efface from the mind all recollection of the fact that the earth contained such things as graves or ruins. The effervescence of animal spirits occasioned by the air and aspect of scenes so delicious appeared for the moment to justify the enthusiasm of the Persian poet, who, half-intoxicated with the perfume of the atmosphere, exclaims:—

Boy, bid yon ruby liquid flow, And let thy pensive heart be glad, Whate'er the frowning zealots say; Tell them their Eden cannot show A stream so pure as Rocknabad, A bower so sweet as Mosellay!

But, with all its beauty, Shiraz contains nothing which raises so powerful an enthusiasm in the soul as two tombs,—the tomb of the bard who sung the beauties of the Rocknabad, and of the moral author of the "Rose Garden;" irresistible and lasting are the charms of poetry and eloquence! Our traveller having acquired at Ispahan sufficient knowledge of the Persian language to enable him to relish Hafiz, though he complains that he is difficult, as well as the easier and more popular Saadi, whose sayings are in Persia "familiar to their mouths as household words," it was impossible that he should pass through the city where their honoured ashes repose without paying a pious visit to the spot. Having contemplated these illustrious mausoleums with that profound veneration which the memory of genius inspires, he returned to his caravansary half-persuaded, with the Persians, that they who do not study and treasure up in their souls the maxims of such divine poets can neither be virtuous nor happy.

From the poets of Shiraz he naturally turned to its roses and its wine; the former, in his opinion, the most fragrant upon earth; and the latter the most balmy and delicious. In his history and description