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HATEM.
O, SAY, 'neath what celestial sign
The day doth lie,
When ne'er again this heart of mine
Away will fly?
And e'en though fled (what thought divine!)
Would near me lie?--
On the soft couch, on whose sweet shrine
My heart near hers will lie!
1816.
HATEM.
HOLD me, locks, securely caught
In the circle of her face!
Dear brown serpents, I have nought
To repay this act of grace,
Save a heart whose love ne'er dies,
Throbbing with aye-youthful glow;
For a raging ETA lies
'Neath its veil of mist and snow.
Yonder mountain's stately brow
Thou, like morning beams, dost shame;
Once again feels Hatem now
Spring's soft breath and summer's flame.
One more bumper! Fill the glass;
This last cup I pledge to thee!--
By mine ashes if she pass,
"He consumed," she'll say, "for me."
1815.
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