Beautiful is the deep blue sea, When summer gales sigh placidly Over the billows hoar;

'Tis music then to hear them dash,

As the bright waters leap and flash Against the rocky shore.

But now, in every echoing surge
I hear a note of Ocean's dirge
Around its victim's bier!

He's safe! and these are idle fears,
I'll brush away my woman's tears;
My husband, thou art here!

FROM THE PERSIAN OF JANEID OF BAGHDAD.

TRANSLATED BY THE RIGHT HON. SIR GORE OUSELEY.

ONE day, straying through the streets of Baghdad, I met a youth of pallid hue and sorrowful aspect, who with difficulty supported a tottering frame by the assistance of a milk-white staff. Curiosity, blended with compassion, led me to him: I beheld a face from which even the tear of anguish had not washed away the traits of manly beauty; his countenance wore marks of the struggle of fortitude contending with wretchedness, but it was fortitude almost subdued; his eyes, whose fires were dimmed by grief, still, like a translucent mirror, reflected the sufferings of his heart; his heart was the abode of despair; unconscious of my approach he cried,

"From the garden of love I have not yet plucked a Rose, Although I am wounded by the thorns of restless pursuit."

I interrupted the unhappy youth to ask the cause of his affliction. His ear had been so long unused to the soft voice of sympathy, that fearful of disappointment, he hesitated about a reply: at length he said,

Ask me not, holy man;" but, shortly resuming,

he added,

66 My soul is devoted to the lovely. Christian,

Her bower is my temple of worship and adoration,

I am an infidel in the ways of the true faith,

But my life is a willing sacrifice, so that it avert calamity

from the fair Christian."

I squeezed his hand and said, "O distracted youth! my heart takes a share in thy anguish—if the services of an aged man can avail thee, command mine." With a sigh of despondence he said “What shall I ask of thee, compassionate stranger?" and after a short pause added, "Go to the street of Ahmed Dehkan, where you will see a merchant's house, opposite to which is the dwelling of a Christian-knock at the door and repeat these lines,

"My love of thee is interwoven with the thread of my existence,

Absent from thee I lose all patience and resignation:

I have borne the pangs of separation, whilst strength and fortitude remained,

But now that both are exhausted and anguish becomes in. supportable, what can I do?"

I ran hastily to the street he pointed out, knocked at the door and repeated the verses-immediately a voice of extreme tenderness, chastened by reproving virtue, answered from within

"He who cannot sustain the pains of love, exacted by duty, Nor support the pangs of unavoidable absence with patience, Death, alas is his only remedy.”

I returned to the afflicted youth and related what had passed. He bent his tearless eye to the quarter from whence I came, and breathed out the name of his beloved with his life. At the same moment it was murmured through the city that the lovely daughter of the Christian was no more.

TO A FRIEND.

THOUGH long the time since I my friend have seen,
Though long to me his tongue hath silent been,
Though absence, distance, and diverse pursuit
Might seem to aim at Friendship's vig'rous root,
Yet is the plant too tough to own the pow'r
Of life's poor, changing, transitory hour.
No! Friendship is a plant of heavenly birth,
Constant its nature, and immense its worth,
Its essence virtue, and is known to rest
And glow most warmly in the virtuous breast!

Through life "how different the roads we take," Chiefly for gain, or vain ambition's sake! The soul, to grovelling pursuits chain'd down, Has scarcely time to vindicate its own, To break the spell of sense, and bring to view The past, the present, and the future too. Yet there are moments, hours of chaste delight Like isles on ocean's breast that bless the sight, Like springs in Arab's sands that well repay The toil and trouble of that thirsty way;