Only think that a personage mighty and great, * I rather imagine there must be some trifling error in this nomenclature. However this is a Shaksperean error,-" Peter for the sake of metre."- -P. Q. The Pen, so called in Persia. And his red crimson cloak seem'd a garment of fire, And so HASSAN exclaim'd-and I took not his wit ill, "Why 'tis Carlton House here too, in little and little!" But soon from the elegant tapestry he turned, She has flitted away like a spirit of air! But these trophies that fondly, yet sadly, I cherish, Shall stand in my halls, 'till my halls and I perish; Yes, I swear by the tears on my paper that fall That my humbly adored Princesse Charlotte de Galles* Shall long be remembered by me and by mine, "Till the sun-light of memory ceases to shine. "But where's Aboun Hassan," you say, "all this while ?" Reclining in beauty's benevolent smile, On yon musnud he calls it-behold him laid low Beneath the dark curve of a crescent-like brow; Whilst the sparkling and glow of all other bright eyes Unheeded play round like the beam of his skies When the lightning attracts him-th' electrical spark But renders the rest of the universe dark. Apropos, when his charmer was heard to complain, Of a shiver, whilst passion throughout every vein * This simple inscription procured for me the most flattering, distinguishing distinctions, and enviable attentions on the Continent. Of his heart and his bosom was rushing in flame, "How comes it," he said, "oh, thou rose in the beam "Of creation's own day-burst, the loveliest far! "More fair than the loved one of young Jehaundar,* "How comes it that you, from the light of whose eyes "The flame of desire irresistibly flies, "Consuming the heart of each love-stricken elf, "Can be chilly or cold for a moment yourself?" With loud bursts of laughter the circle rang round, And the wit of the Persian was voted profound!— It is not for me or my muse to recite The flashes of eloquence sportively bright, That my friend scattered round him, with compliment mixed, Whilst I stood before him, with praises transfixed; * I have been at some pains to discover who this matchless beauty may have been.-I find she was no other than "Bherawir Banon, upon whose countenance the worldilluming sun, with all his globe-enlightening splendor dare not look without the medium of a veil."-Bahar Danush, P. Q. When up-raising his head from the collar of thought, —Adieu, my dear Lord! this is all that at present Has room in my thoughts-and you'll own 'tis so pleasant, So happily told with such pathos and feeling! obliged and obsequious servant JM D, OF C-KS. |