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The original letter is extant and usually available for academic research purposes
Julian
This letter is part of the Primary Texts section of the Thomas Gray Archive.
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This letter is part of the correspondence calendar of the complete correspondence of Thomas Gray. The calendar contains detailed bibliographic records for all known original, copied, or published letters written by or to the poet as well as the full-text, where available. Each record is accompanied by digitised images of the manuscript, where available, or digitised images of the first printed edition.
When the Dew of the morning is upon me, thy Image is before mine eyes; nor, when the night overshadoweth me, dost thou depart from me. shall I ne'er behold thine eyes, until our eternal meeting in ye immortal Chioses of Paradise; and sure at that hour, thy Soul will have little need of Ablution in the sight of Israphiel, the Angel of examination: surely, it is pure as the Snow on Mount Ararat, & beautiful as the cheeks of the Houries: the Feast of Ramadan is now past away, & thou thinkest not of leaving Candahar; what shall I say unto thee, thou unkind one? thou has lost me in oblivion, & I am become as one, whom thou never didst remember: before; we were as two Palm-trees in the Vale of Medina, I flourish'd in thy friendship, & bore my head aloft: but now I wander in Solitariness, as a traveller in the sandy desarts of Barca, & pine in vain to tast of the living fountain of thy conversation: I have beheld thee in my Slumbers, I have attempted to seize on thee, I sought for thee & behold! thou wert not there! thou wert departed, as the smoke, or as the Shadows, when the Sun entreth his bed-chamber: were I to behold thy countenance, tho' afar off; my heart should bound as the Antelope; yea! my soul should be as light, as the Roe-buck on the hills of Erzerom. I swear by Abubekir, thou art sweet in my thoughts as the Pine-apple of Damascus to the tast; & more refreshing, than the fragrant Breezes of Idumea. the chain of Destiny has link'd me unto thee, & the mark, which Gabriel stamped on my forehead at my Nativity, was Born for Miradolin. let not the Demon Negidher separate us, nor the evil Tagot interpose between us. Be thou unto me, as Mohammed to Ajesha; as the Bowers of Admoim to those, whom the Sun hath overtaken; or as the costly Sherbets of Stamboul to the thirsty: the grace of providence, and the smiles of heaven be upon thee. may white Angels guard thee from the efforts of the rebellious Genii.