LEILA.

BY MISS POWER.

UPON the golden summer air, the evening shadows fall,

From dome and minaret are heard the muezzin's solemn call;

The flowers that drooped throughout the day, their brightest tints disclose

Th' enamoured bul-bul breathes his vows to his bright love the rose; Music and perfume rising up, their mingled tide are throwing Upon the air that from the sun's last parting kiss is glowing.

Within yon richly decked kiosk, a lady sits alone;

The love-lorn bul-bul hath for her no music in his tone,

The flowers are scentless, and the breeze upon its perfumed wings, Though soft and sweet its light caress, to her no healing bringsWhy doth her heart from Nature's joy no share of brightness borrow? Why is her lovely cheek so pale, her brow so dark with sorrow?

She loves !—Alas! how often love pale cheek and dark brow brings! Long hours of grief and pain, and thoughts more keen than serpent stings;

Yet not to love itself belongs this lingering agony,

But to the memories that rise from passion once gone by:
And this is Leila's fate, to mourn for blissful dreams past over—
Alas! that ever eyes so bright should weep a faithless lover!

Evening is past, and sable Night around her mantle throws,
And all within the city's walls are hushed in deep repose,