The Bride of Abydos: A Turkish Tale (Google eBook)

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Thomas Davison, 1813 - Fore-edge painting - 72 pages
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Page 1 - Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime ? Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime ! Know ye the land of the cedar and vine, Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine...
Page 2 - In colour though varied, in beauty may vie, And the purple of Ocean is deepest in dye ; Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine, And all, save the spirit of man, is divine ? 'Tis the clime of the East ; 'tis the land of the Sun — Can he smile on such deeds as his children have done?(') Oh ! wild as the accents of lovers' farewell Are the hearts which they bear, and the tales which they tell.
Page 45 - Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life ! The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray...
Page 25 - THE winds are high on Helle's wave, As on that night of stormy water When Love — who sent — forgot to save The young, the beautiful, the brave, The lonely hope of Sestos
Page 25 - Sestos' daughter. Oh ! when alone along the sky Her turret-torch was blazing high, Though rising gale, and breaking foam, And shrieking sea-birds warned him home ; And clouds aloft and tides below, With signs and sounds, forbade to go, He could not see, he would not hear > Or sound or sign foreboding fear ; His eye but saw that light of love, The only star it hailed above; His ear but rang with Hero's song, " Ye waves, divide not lovers long !"— That tale is old, but Love anew May nerve young hearts...
Page 9 - To fix one spark of Beauty's heavenly ray? Who doth not feel — until his failing sight Faints into dimness with its own delight — His changing cheek — his sinking heart confess The might — the majesty of Loveliness! Such was Zuleika — such around her shone The nameless charms unmarked by her alone — The light of love— the purity of grace— The mind — the music breathing from her face! The heart whose softness harmonized the whole—- And, oh! that eye was in itself a soul!
Page 9 - To Sorrow's phantom-peopled slumber given, When heart meets heart again in dreams Elysian, And paints the lost on Earth revived in Heaven; Soft, as the memory of buried love; Pure, as the prayer which Childhood wafts above; Was she—the daughter of that rude old Chief, Who met the maid with tears—but not of grief.

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