THE TURKISH LADY.

'Twas the hour when rites unholy

Call'd each Paynim voice to pray'r,

And the star that faded slowly

Left to dews the freshien'd air.

Day her sultry fires had wasted,

Calm and sweet the moonlight rose;

Ev'n a captive's spirit tasted

Half oblivion of his woes.

Then 'twas from an Emir's palace
Came an eastern lady bright:

She, in spite of tyrants jealous,

Saw and lov'd an English knight.

Tell me, captive, why in anguish 'Foes have dragg'd thee here to dwell, Where poor Christians as they languish

Hear no sound of sabbath bell?'

Say, fair princess! would it grieve thee

'Christian climes should we behold?'

'Nay; bold knight! I would not leave thee • Were thy ransom paid in gold!'

Now in Heaven's blue expansion

Rose the midnight star to view,

When to quit her father's mansion,

Thrice she wept, and bade adieu!

Fly we then, while none discover!

Tyrant barks, in vain ye ride!'

Soon at Rhodes the British lover

Clasp'd his blooming Eastern bride.

VOL. II.

D

EXILE OF ERIN.

THE
HERE came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin,

The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill: For his country he sigh'd, when at twilight repairing

To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill.