Hear how the nightingale, on every spray,
Hails in wild notes the sweet return of May!
The gale, that o'er yon waving almond blows,
The verdant bank with silver blossoms strows;
The smiling season decks each flowery glade--
Be gay; too soon the flowers of spring will fade.

This Turkish poet's maxim, it will be observed, was "enjoy the present
day"--the _carpe diem_ of Horace, the genial old pagan. On the same
suggestive theme of Springtide a celebrated Turkish poetess, Fitnet
Khánim (for the Ottoman Turks have poetesses of considerable genius as
well as poets), has composed a pleasing ode, addressed to her lord, of
which the following stanzas are also from Mr. Gibb's collection:

The fresh spring-clouds across all earth their glistening pearls
profuse now sow;
The flowers, too, all appearing, forth the radiance of their beauty
show;
Of mirth and joy 'tis now the time, the hour, to wander to and fro;
The palm-tree o'er the fair ones' pic-nic gay its grateful shade
doth throw.

_O Liege, come forth! From end to end with verdure doth the whole
earth glow;
'Tis springtide once again, once more the tulips and the roses blow!_

Behold the roses, how they shine, e'en like the cheeks of maids
most fair;
The fresh-sprung hyacinth shows like to beauties' dark, sweet, musky