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My soul shall pass to happy things,
With dainty plumes and glittering wings;
A Peri bird, I'll build my nest
On the chumayla's odorous breast.
And that sweet state of being o'er,
Beside the Ganges' much loved shore
I'll spread my shining fins, and glide
A spark of silver on the tide.
The second transmigration past,
I'll reach my brightest, and my last—
Shoot with my fire-fly lamp on high,
A star along the summer sky.
Then to the palace gleaming bright,
Turquoise, and pearl, and chrysolite,
My heavenly home ascend, and stray
For ever through the realms of day.
