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Mother, honour-crown'd,Thou whom we as queen confess,

It contains opinions and sentiments on the East, expressed in aseries of rich cantos and stanzas full of sweetness and spirit,and all this as enchanting as a harem emitting the most deliciousand rare perfumes, and blooming with exquisitely-lovely nymphswith eyebrows painted black, eyes piercing as those of theantelope, arms white as alabaster, and of the most graceful andperfectly-formed shapes, while the heart of the reader beats andgrows faint, as did that of the happy Gaspard Debaran, the clown,who, when on the highest step of his ladder, was enabled to peepinto the Seraglio of Constantinople--that recess concealed fromthe inspection of man. Sometimes also the reader may imaginehimself indolently stretched on a carpet of Persian softness,luxuriously smoking the yellow tobacco of Turkistan through along tube of jessamine and amber, while a black slave fans himwith a fan of peacock's feathers, and a little boy presents himwith a cup of genuine Mocha. Goethe has put these enchanting andvoluptuous customs into poetry, and his verses are so perfect, soharmonious, so tasteful, so soft, that it seems really surprisingthat he should ever have been able to have brought the Germanlanguage to this state of suppleness. The charm of the book isinexplicable; it is a votive nosegay sent from the West to theEast, composed of the most precious and curious plants: redroses, hortensias like the breast of a spotless maiden, purpledigitalis like the long finger of a man, fantastically formedranunculi, and in the midst of all, silent and tastefullyconcealed, a tuft of German violets. This nosegay signifies thatthe West is tired of thin and icy-cold spirituality, and seekswarmth in the strong and healthy bosom of the East."

Shall he, then, return,The small, the dark, the fiery peasant?Shall he, then, return, waitingOnly thy gifts, oh Father Bromius,And brightly gleaming, warmth-spreading fire?Return with joy?And I, whom ye attended,Ye Muses and ye Graces,Whom all awaits that ye,Ye Muses and ye Graces,Of circling bliss in lifeHave glorified--shall IReturn dejected?