Giaour e-bog

Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility. His thousand songs are heard on high, Blooms blushing to her lover's tale; His queen, the garden queen, his Rose, Unbent by winds, unchill'd by snows, Far from the winters of the west By every breeze and season blest, Returns the sweets by nature given In softest incense back to heaven; And grateful yields that smiling sky Her fairest hue and fragrant sigh. And many a summer flower is there, And many a shade that love might share.