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Thus have I cried, but cried in vain, For soon the songstress of the grove, As though the morn awaken'd pain,
More faintly breath'd her song of love.
But though she shuns my wistful sight,
OMAR at the TOMB of AZZA.
By GEORGE GOODWIN.
Roses! alas in vain ye
In vain your rubied blossoms glow, Azza is dead! and o'er her tomb,
The night-wind glides in murmurs low.
Almond! in vain thy drops of light,
Hang quivering on the nectar'd gale, Dim are those gems that once so bright, With melting radiance charm'd the vale;
For me in vain the ambrosial showers,
In vain for me the Tamarinds wave,
A thousand flowers fresh sweets distil.
Light of my soul! my Azza's dead,
Who has not seen her yellow hair,
Soft lingering on the conscious gale? Who has not mark'd her form so fair, Oft glide along the Alurian vale?
Who has not seen those dark black eyes, Whose liquid chrystal gleam'd with love, Who has not heard her fragrant sighs,
Whilst rambling in the Palm-tree grove?
Sweet Moon! alas thy tranquil beam,
Oh! it was sweet with her to rove,
Oh! it was sweet beneath thy light,
That stole its sweets from Azza's sighs!
Then lovely Moon! I bless'd thy beams,
Then silver Moon! swift fled the hours,
But now alas! I rove alone,
Blanch'd is my cheek, and dim my eye,
He sigh'd no more, the dews of night
And darkness mourn'd along the vale !
Soon as the Sun dispell'd the gloom,
The love-eyed Gazels sport along,
And often as the pale moon hangs
Her full-orb'd beauty midst the skies, The Alurian maids rehearse the pangs, That clos'd the faithful Omar's eyes.
And as in silver tones they sing
That she was lovely, he was brave, They kiss the sweetest flowers of spring, And strew them o'er the lovers grave.
The ambrosial kiss of beauty glows
And add fresh life to beauty's power.