‘LO! SPRING all sportively with verdure crown’d,
Calls forth his flowers and bids the earth be gay,
Wafts from the woods—the wilds—his balms around,
And tunes the winged warbler’s tenderest lay.
‘Why then reflect on what the fates conceal?
Vain is the thought to learn their dark decree;
ACHMED! this truth alone they will reveal,
The present hour belongs to LOVE and THEE.’
At early dawn as pensively I stray’d,
From past misfortunes boding future woes,
The gentle breeze those pleasing notes convey’d
From the sweet BIRD that loves the opening ROSE.
’Tis NATURE’s voice! ah dearest maid incline
To the soft magic of her artless lay;
So shall thy ACHMED’s bliss increase with thine,
’Till ANGELS envying steal our souls away!