C The pleasure-house is dust :-behind, before, gloom; But Nature, in due course of time, once more Shall here put on her beauty and her bloom. She leaves these objects to a slow decay, known; But at the coming of the milder day, One lesson, Shepherd, let us two divide, Taught both by what she shows, and what conceals; Never to blend our pleasure or our pride With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels." VOL. III. с THE DESERT-BORN. BY THOMAS HOOD. "Fly to the desert, fly with me."-LADY HESTER STANHOPE. "TWAS in the wilds of Lebanon, amongst its barren hills, To think upon it, even now, my very blood it chills! My sketch-book spread before me, pencil in my hand, and my I gazed upon the mountain range, the red tumultuous sand, The plumy palms, the sombre firs, the cedars tall and proud,— When lo! a shadow pass'd across the paper like a cloud, And looking up I saw a form, apt figure for the scene,— Methought I stood in presence of some oriental queen! The turban on her head was white as any driven snow; A purple bandalette past o'er the lofty brow below, And thence upon her shoulders fell, by either jewell'd ear; In yellow folds voluminous she wore her long cachemere; Whilst underneath, with ample sleeves, a Turkish robe of silk Enveloped her in drapery the colour of new milk; Yet oft it floated wide in front, disclosing underneath A gorgeous Persian tunic, rich with many a broider'd wreath, Compell'd by clasps of costly pearl around her neck to meet And yellow as the amber were the buskins on her feet! Of course I bow'd my lowest bow—of all the things on earth, The reverence due to loveliness, to rank, or ancient birth, To power, to wealth, to genius, or to anything uncommon, A man should bend the lowest in a Desert to a Woman! Yet some strange influence stronger still, though vague and undefined, Compell'd me, and with magic might subdued my soul and mind; There was a something in her air that drew the spirit nigh, Beyond the common witchery that dwells in woman's eye! With reverence deep, like any slave of that peculiar land, I bow'd my forehead to the earth, and kiss'd the arid sand; And then I touch'd her garment's hem, devoutly as a Dervise, Predestinated (so I felt) for ever to her service. Nor was I wrong in auguring thus my fortune from her face, She knew me, seemingly, as well as any her race; of "Welcome!" she cried, as I uprose sub missive to my feet; |