Farewell – farewell to the Araby’s daughter!
Thus warbled a Peri beneath thae dark sea,
No pearl ever lay under Oman’s green water,
More pure in its shell than thy spirit in thee.
Oh! fair as the sea xflownx flowers close to thee growing,
How light was thy heart till love’s witchery came,
Like the wind of the South over a summer day blowing,
And hushed all its music and withered its frame!
But long upon Araby’s green sunny highlands,
Shall maids and there lovers remember the doom,
Of her who lies sleeping among the Pearl Islands,
With nought but the sea-star to light up her tomb.
And still, when the merry date season is burning,
And calls to the palm-groves the young and the old,
The happiest there from their pastime returning,
At sunset, will weep when thy story is told.
The young village maid, when with flowers she dresses,
Her dark-flowing hair, for some festival day,
Will think of thy fate, till, neglecting her tresses,
She mournfully turns from the mirror away.
Nor shall Iran, beloved of her hero! forget thee,
Though tyrants watch over her tears as they start,
Close, close by the side of that hero she will set thee,
Embalmed in the innermost shrine of her heart.
Farewell--be it ours to embellish thy pillow,
With every thing beauteous that grows in the deep,
Each flower of the rock, and each gem of the billow,
Shall sweeten thy bed, and illumine thy sleep.
Around thee shall glisten the loveliest amber,
That ever the sorrowing sea-bird has wept,
With many a shell, in whose hollow-wreathed chamber,
The peris of ocean, by moonlight have slept.
We will dive where the gardens of coral lie sparkling
And plant all the rosiest stems at thy head,
We will seek when the sands of the Caspian are sparkling,
And gather their gold to shrew over thy bed.
Farewell-farewell – until pity’s sweet fountain,
Is lost in the hearts of the fair and the brave,
They will weep for the cieftain who died on that mountain,
They will weep for the maiden who sleeps in this wave.