Volume 2 — SONG OF ROXANA.[120] A PERSIAN POEM.

When, to thy own Roxana’s arms, Wilt thou, my lovely lord, return? When on thy blaze of youthful charms Shall these desiring glances turn? Anxious I wait thee in the spicy grove;— My eye-balls ache with watching for my love. The sofa, for my lord’s repose, Is scattered o’er with jess’mine wreaths; There every flower, that Persia knows, Voluptuous odour breathes; While in full drops descend the roseate oils, Press’d from the glowing Orient’s ripen’d spoils. Light on my couch the virgins shed Zest, from the rich Latura drawn; And all in soft profusion spread, Embath’d in sweets, the snowy lawn. Haste then, O haste, to glad these longing eyes, Pride of my life, and transport of my joys!