Laura Sophia Temple

Arabian Song

Ah! bright is the blush on the cheek of the Morning,
    Behold how its presence enlivens the sky,
But pale are its hues to the lustre adorning
    The conquering glance of my Amoret's eye.

How soft are the gales o'er yon hill that are blowing!
    Through plains of Arabia they scatter their spice;
But faint are the sweets o'er the land that are flowing
    Compar'd to the musk of my Amoret's voice.

And lovely the roses, in woodlands retiring,
    That shed through the foliage their modest perfume,
Yet poor are their odours, and vain their aspiring
    To rival the rose of my Amoret's bloom.

And thou blazing Sun ! with thy beauties so finish'd,
    That o'er the blue heavens thy chariot dost roll,
Methinks that e'en thy glorious rays seem diminish'd,
    Put out by the fires of my Amoret's Soul.