Fakeer of Jungheera 1.26
She madly clings to his embrace,
Breathing Love's warm impassioned sigh,
For she hath found her resting place.
Yes, for although the soul unblest,
Like wandering, wounded bird may roam,
The one, the fond beloved breast
Is still, is still its happy home!
Like life to hope, she clung to him,
For now was severed sorrow's chain;
Away had passed the tempest grim,
And joy in sunshine beamed again.
Her voice its tone of gladness found,
Her eyes their lustre flashed around,
As if the spell that bound their light
Had broken been that blissful night.—
"O God ! and am I here," she cried,
"Once more in these beloved arms;
And do I in thy bosom hide
From danger safe and death's alarms?
O! let me kneel, and kiss thy feet
Since now the hour of fear is o'er;
For even to die it had been sweet
Than live to see thy face no more.
And death I could have better borne
That even a moment brief of life
To be the object of my scorn,
And with myself at endless strife.
With thee a passing moment might
Be all the bliss in store for me;
But like an angel's vision bright
That moment were Eternity.
Without thee—but! cannot tell
That on which fancy dare not dwell—
And yet methinks, if aught should e'er
Betide, and force our souls to part,
With more than calmness I could bear
A viper feeding on my heart—
That agony were heaven compared
To dreary life by thee unshared—
Such dismal fear hath past; and this
Bright hour fulfils my dream of bliss;
I dreamt and now before my view
My dream, my golden dream is true!
I dreamt how happy it might be
To dwell in some lone isle with thee,
To while the sun-lit hours away
In singing thee my softest lay,
While timid echo made reply
With voice like tone of angel high;
And when the sacred vesper star
Drove through the sapphire sky her car,
How sweet 'twould be to watch her light
Upon the jewelled brow of night,
To gaze on her so pure, so fair,
And wish ourselves for ever there!
And when the breezes nightly crept
Like spirit's sighs, so sweet and soft,
While heaven in tears of dew-drops weptr
For erring man who weeps more oft;
Then I on this devoted breast
Would pillow that dear head of thine;
And seraphs kind would guard thy rest
Since nothing save thyself were mine.
And I would keep thee like a thought
Which Memory in her temple keeps,
When every sorrow sinks to nought,
And all the past of misery sleeps—
O thus should thy bright image dear
Above my heart's warm altar sit,
While every hope, affection, fear
Of mine like lamps were round thee lit.
O! thou, I've said, shouldst ever be
My only worshipped deity;
And I have made my breast a shrine
For every look and word of thine.
To thee, to thee my soul hath turned, "
Whene'er with gladness it hath burned,
Whene'er my heart at rapture's touch
Has wildly thrilled in strange delight
With soft and blest emotions, such
As lutes awake when struck by night;
O! thou hast ever been the one
My faithful thoughts have dwelt upon;
And in my hours of misery
They've turned to thee, and only thee!
In calm, in shine, in storm, and strife,
Thou, thou hast been my light of life;
Whene'er the tempest flapped its wing
My poor devoted head above,
To one fond hope I still could cling,
And that one hope was in thy love.
Hadst thou not snatched me from the pile
Where late it was my lot to be,
To death I could have given a smile,
If death from woe had set me free:
Then in the form of some small bird,
When passed from life my spirit bright,
I would have come unseen, unheard,
To these grey rocks by deepest night.
And in thy gentle ear alone
I would have poured each melting tone,
That from the dream-land I could bring,
Where sweetest winds and seraphs sing !—
Those fancies were but shadowy bliss
Compared to half the truth of this—
These moments quite o'ercome the years
That I have seen of grief and tears,
And all my sorrows past o'erpay
By melting future fears away.
How heavenly bright is this to me!
Can it be all reality?
May not these moments make them wings,
And fly, like other happy things,
To better regions, far and fast,
Too fair and lovely long to last!
Say, Love! to thee doth all not seem
A bright but unsubstantial dream,
A glorious vision kindly given
To let us taste on earth of heaven ?—
It boots not, so ne'er dawn the day
To chase the lovely dream away."