wn,
And falsehood marks them all her own.
Incredulous I listen now
To every tongue, and every vow,
For still there yawns a gulf between
Those honeyed words, and what they mean;
With honest pride elate, I see
The sons of falsehood shrink from me,
As from the right line's even way
The biass'd curves deflecting stray--
But what avails it to complain?
With souls like theirs reproof is vain;
If honor e'er such bosoms share
The sabre's point must fix it there.
But why exhaust life's rapid bowl,
And suck the dregs with sorrow foul,
When long ere this my youth has drain'd
Whatever zest the cup contain'd?
Why should we mount upon the wave,
And ocean's yawning horrors brave,
When we may swallow from the flask
Whatever the wants of mortals ask?

Contentment's realms no fears invade,
No cares annoy, no sorrows shade,
There plac'd secure, in peace we rest,
Nor aught demand to make us blest.
While pleasure's gay fantastic bower,
The splendid pageant of an hour,
Like yonder meteor in the skies,
Flits with a breath no more to rise.

As thro' life's various walks we're led,
May prudence hover o'er our head!
May she our words, our actions guide,
Our faults correct, our secrets hide!

May she, where'er our footsteps stray,
Direct our paths, and clear the way!

Till, every scene of tumult past,
She bring us to repose at last,
Teach us to love that peaceful shore,
And roam thro' folly's wilds no more!

_Mauid Eddin Alhassan Abou Ismael Altograi_.

[38] Abou Ismael was a native of Ispahan. He devoted himself to the
service of the Seljuk Sultans of Persia, and enjoyed the confidence
of Malec Shah, and his son and grandson, Mohammed and Massoud, by
the last of whom he was raised to the dignity of vizir. Massoud,
however, was not long in a condition to afford Abou Ismael any
protection, for, being attacked by his brother Mahmoud, he was
defeated, and driven from Mousel, and upon the fall of his master
the vizir was seized and thrown into prison, and at length in the
year 515 sentenced to be put to death.

TO YOUTH

Yes, youth, thou'rt fled, and I am left,
Like yonder desolated bower,
By winter's ruthless hand bereft
Of every leaf and every flower.

With heaving heart and streaming eyes
I woo'd thee to prolong thy stay,
But vain were all my tears and sighs,
Thou only fled'st