East-India Houses of Agency, in London:
Amos, James, and Co. 17, Devonshire Square.
Beglie and Hunter, 17, New Broad Street.
Boehm, Edmund, and John Taylor, 17, Bishopsgate Church-yard.
Bruce, De Ponthieu, Bazett, and Co. 7, Tokenhouse Yard.
Burnie, William, 1, Warnford Court, Throgmorton Street.
Lambert, Gillett, and Edwards, 36, Great St. Helen's.
Lee, Richard, William, and E. 35, Old Broad Street.
Lubbock and Co. 2, Mildred's Court, Poultry.
Lushington and Mavor, 33, Mark Lane.
Palmer, Wilson, and Co. Frederick's Place, Old Jewry.
Paxtons, Cockerell, Trail, and Co. Devonshire Square.
Prinsep and Saunders, 147, Leadenhall Street.
Raikes, William and Thomas, and Co. 9, Bishopsgate Church-yard. Scott, David, and Co. 9, Broad-Street Buildings.
Swinton, Richard, 6, Saint Mary Axe, Agent for Shipping Goods, Presents, Passengers, Baggage, &c.
Walker, John, 2, Warwick Place, Bedford Row, or Jerusalem CoffeeHouse.
Wedderburns and Co. 35, Leadenhall Street.
Wigram and Co. 3, Crosby Square.
Williams, James, 4, Old City Chambers.
Inglis, Borthwick, Gilchrist, and Co. Agents and Bankers, Hunter's
From the DEWAUN of HAFEZ.
Translated by John Knott, Esq.
WHEN the young rose, in crimson gay,
Expands her beauties to the day,
And foliage fresh her leafless boughs o'erspread;
In homage to her sov'reign pow'r,
Bright regent of each subject flow'r!
Low at her feet the violet bends its head.
While the soft lyre and cymbals sound,
Pour cheerful melody around;
Quaff thy enlivening draught of morning wine:
And, as the melting notes inspire,
Thy soul with amorous desire;
Kiss thy fair handmaid, kiss her neck divine!
Now that thy garden richly blooms,
And blossom'd shrubs exhale perfumes,
Perform those hallow'd rites Zerdusht requires :
Now that the tulip, whose red veins
Are flush'd with deeper, warmer stains,
Glows, in each leaf, with more than Nimrod's fires;
Bid the dear youth of matchless grace,
With silver brightness in his face,
Whose fragrant breath brings healing to the heart,
Thy cup, with mantling juice, fill high;
And, in thy gay society,
No dreadful tales of elder times impart.
How the young world now glads our eyes,
It seems the boasted paradise;
Roses and lilies strew our flow'ry way!
But soon shall fade its glowing vest,
While, with eternal freshness blest,
The charms of Eden ne'er shall know decay.
When flaunts the rose in purple drest,
Like the gay monarch of the East;
And proudly perfum'd rides upon the gale:
The bird of morn, with tuneful throat,
Then thrills aloud his early note,
Melodious as the psalmist's chaunted wail,
O! waste not spring's voluptuous hours;
But call for music's magic pow'rs,
For wine, and for the mistress of thy heart;
The mirthful season's transient stay
Is but a vision of a day;
Its smiles are sweet, but soon those smiles depart.
"Tell me, fond youth," said a mistress to her lover, "Thou who hast visited distant countries,
Tell, which place of them all is most delightful?"
The young man answered, "That place which is the residence
That spot on which reposes the queen of our desires,
Though it were narrow as the eye of a needle, wou'd seem
extensive and spacious as an open plain.
Wheresoever dwells the belov'd fair one, lovely as the morn,—
That place, though it were the bottom of a den, would be to
a lov'r like the garden of Eden.
With thee, O belov'd of my soul, even the regions of the damn'd wou'd become a paradise.
With thee, fair plunderer of hearts! a dungeon wou'd seem delightful as a bow'r of roses.
Introduction to the MESNAVI of JELAL-ED-DIN RUMI.
Translated by Sir W. Jones.
Hear how yon reed, in sadly pleasing tales,
Departed bliss, and present woe bewails!
"With me from native banks untimely torn,
Love-warbling youth, and soft-ey'd virgins mourn.
O! let the heart, by fatal absence rent,
Feel what I sing, and bleed when I lament:
Who roams in exile from his parent bow'r,
Pants to return, and chides each ling'ring hour.
My notes, in circles of the grave and gay,
Have hail'd the rising, cheer'd the closing day:
Each in my fond affection claim'd a part,
But none discern'd the secret of my heart.
What though my strains and sorrows flow combin'd?
Yet ears are slow, and carnal eyes are blind.
Free thro' each mortal form the spirits roll,
But sight avails not-Can we see the soul?
Such notes breath'd gently from your vocal frame."
"Breath'd!" said I, No, 'twas all enliv'ning flame.
'Tis love that fills the reed with warmth divine,-
'Tis love that sparkles in the racy wine."
"Me, plaintive wand'rer, from my peerless maid,
The reed has fir'd, and all my soul betray'd.
He gives the bane, and he with balsam cures,—
Afflicts, yet soothes,-impassions, yet allures.
Delightful pangs his am'rous tales prolong,
And Laili's frantic lover lives in song.
The original alludes to Joseph, the Hebrew Patriarch, who, according to Mohammedan tradition, was equally beautiful as holy.
Not he, who reasons best, this wisdom knows;
Ears only drink what am'rous tongues disclose.
Nor fruitless deem the reed's heart-rending pain;
See sweetness dropping from the parted cane.
Alternate hope and fear my care divide,
I courted grief, and anguish was my bride.
Flow on, sad stream of life! I smile secure ;
Thou livest,-thou, the purest of the pure!
Rise, vig'rous youth! be free, be nobly bold;
Shall chains confine you, though they blaze with gold?
Go, to your vase the gather'd main convey;
What were your stores ?-The pittance of a day!
New plans for wealth your fancies would invent,
Yet shells, to nourish pearls, must be content.
The man, whose robe Love's purple arrows rend,
Bids av'rice rest, and toils tumultuous end.
Hail, heav'nly love! true source of endless gains!
Thy balm restores me, and thy skill sustains.
Oh! more than Galen learn'd, than Plato wise!
My guide, my law, my joy supreme, arise!
Love warms this frigid clay with mystic fire,
And dancing mountains leap with young desire.
Blest is the soul that swims in seas of love;
And long the life sustain'd by food above.
With forms imperfect can perfection dwell?
Here pause, my song! and thou, vain world! farewell.
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