The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction - Volume 12, No. 334, October 4, 1828 by Various
page 8 of 56 (14%)
page 8 of 56 (14%)
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The rose, the lute, and the nightingale,
From flow'rs, whose odours were _too_ divine; From gems of beauty whose souls were mine; From floating eyes, that could wound, yet bless, In their warm, dark, deep, voluptuousness; I'm come, in young iv'ry breasts to lie, Betray'd like Love, by my luscious sigh! I'm come, and my holy, rich, perfume Makes faint your roses of palest bloom; Soul, as _I_ am, of an orient gem, My aroma's too divine for them; I'm come! but mine odorous, elfin wing Rises from earth, and that one fair thing _First_ Love's _first_ sigh, which ye know to be, More exquisite, and more brief than _me_! M.L.B. [1] Having, not long since, purchased a bottle of Persian Otto, warranted _genuine_, (as is all) I laid it carefully by, wrapped thickly round with cotton wool; the Atar which was certainly excellent, was in a curious bottle of rough misshapen workmanship, but ornamented with sundry circles, and lozenges, of various coloured glass. I was inclined to regard this bottle as a more genuine specimen of oriental art, than one of those, which, enamelled, with gold, stands forth in its way an _elegant_ of the first water, and I hoped to have kept it long. On visiting my Otto shortly afterwards, I found that not only had it all evaporated, but destroyed its receptacle. Its strength (I |
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