ODE.
FROM THE TURKISH.
Hear! how the nightingales on every spray,
Hail, in wild notes, the sweet return of May:
The gale, that o’er yon waving almond blows,
The verdant bank with silver blossoms strews;
The smiling season decks each flowery glade.
Be gay: too soon the flowers of spring will fade!
What gales of fragrance scent the vernal air!
Hills, dales, and woods their loveliest mantles wear,
Who knows what cares await that fatal day,
When ruder guests shall banish gentle May?
E’en death, perhaps, our valleys will invade.
Be gay: too soon the flowers of spring will fade!
The tulip now its varied hue displays,
And sheds, like Ahmed’s eye, celestial rays.
Ah! nature, ever faithful, ever true,
The joys of youth, while May invites, pursue!
Will not these notes your timorous minds persuade?
Be gay: too soon the flowers of spring will fade!
The sparkling dew-drops o’er the lilies play,
Like orient pearls, or like the beams of day.
If love and mirth your idle thoughts engage,
Attend, ye nymphs! a poet’s words are sage.
While thus you sit beneath the trembling shade,
Be gay: too soon the flowers of spring will fade!
The fresh-blown rose, like Zeineb’s cheek appears,
When pearls, like dew-drops, glitter in her ears.
The charms of youth at once are seen and past,
And Nature says, “They are too sweet to last.”
So blooms the rose, and so the blushing maid—
Be gay: too soon the flowers of spring will fade!
See! yon anemones their leaves unfold,
With rubies gleaming, and with living gold:
While crystal showers from weeping clouds descend,
Enjoy the presence of thy tuneful friend:
Now, while the wines are brought, the sofa’s laid,
Be gay: too soon the flowers of spring will fade!
The plants no more are dried, the meadow dead;
No more the rose-bud hangs her pensive head;
The shrubs revive in valleys, mead, and bowers,
And every stalk is garland’d with flowers;
In silken robes each hillock stands arrayed—
Be gay: too soon the flowers of spring will fade!
Clear drops, each morn, impearl the rose’s bloom,
And from its leaf the zephyr drinks perfume;
The dewy buds expand their lucid store:
Be this our wealth; ye damsels ask no more,
Though wise men envy, and though fools upbraid,
Be gay: too soon the flowers of spring will fade!
The dew-drops sprinkled by the musky gale,
Are changed to essence ere they reach the dale;
The mild, blue sky a rich pavilion spreads,
Without our labor, o’er our favor’d heads.
Let others toil in war, in arts, in trade—
Be gay: too soon the flowers of spring will fade!
Late gloomy winter chilled the sullen air,
Till Soliman arose, and all was fair.
Soft in his reign, the notes of love resound,
And pleasure’s rosy cup goes freely round.
Here on the bank which mantling vines o’ershade,
Be gay: too soon the flowers of spring will fade!
May this rude lay, from age to age remain,
A true memorial of this lovely train.
Come, charming maid, and hear thy poet sing,
Thyself the rose, and he the bird of spring;
Love bids him sing, and love will be obey’d.
Be gay: too soon the flowers of spring will fade!
Translation ofSir William Jones. From the Turkish of Mesihi.