proposition, that the tone of his writings is a fair index of his outward circumstances; and that this assertion may be safely made in the case of Horace.
IN Kaipha's gardens ever blooms a bright and lovely flower,
Its opening buds the sunbeams kiss beneath the palm-tree bower;
Not even to the bright gazelle such fair soft eyes belong,
Far brighter than the pearly gems that ocean's caverns throng.
While swifter than the mountain stream the Sheick speeds from the war,
And urges on his Arab steed from the red dyed field afar,
Still then, sweet flower, thy scent is borne along the scorching gale,
To glad his heart like evening breeze that fans the palm-clad vale.
Or when amid the desert wild the simoom's sultry breath
Has parch'd the thickening sky above, the heaving sand beneath,
Still thou art there, fair flower of life, a never-failing charm;
Thy image warms the wanderer's heart and nerves his powerless arm.
And yet thou bloom'st unfading still by some clear fountain's side,
Which flows beneath the verdant shade with calm, yet constant tide.
Ah! say, fair maid, thy father's name, and I will say the bower,
Where I have seen so often smile this fairest Eastern flower.
Lamartine, during his travels in the East, met at Kaipha M.Malagamba, the beautiful daughter of an Eastern merchant at his suggestion, an Arab poet, to whom he was introduced, wrote the original of the above lines, and which are here re-translated from the French.