Its feeble texture soon would tear,
And give those jewels to the air.
Thrice happy they who seek th' abode
Of peace and pleasure in their God!
Who spurn the world, its joys despise,
And grasp at bliss beyond the skies.
LINES TO HAROUN AND YAHIA[32]
(By the Musician, Isaac Al Mouseli)
Th' affrighted sun ere while he fled,
And hid his radiant face in night;