My Soul lately wandered in bliss;
Till she found there a glorious maiden,
She vainly had sighed for, in this.

Then my Soul walked far with this maiden--
In this beautiful region of gold,
And died on the love-burdened accents,
From the fount of her bosom that rolled.

Oh Yemen! whose name is the Happy,
Whose mountains are fragrant with bloom--
My Soul met her Consort there lately--
And now she says nothing of gloom.




LILLY: A POEM.


The May sun sheds an amber beam,
Upon the river's liquid plain,
But never to that glorious gleam,
Her eyes will ope again:
Sweet Lilly, come again,
Sweet Lilly, come again.

We look across the landscape wide,
Where spring bemocks the thought of pain,
And scatters charms with lavish pride;--