And by such sounds of horror fed, Could frame more dreadful of her own. But does she dream? has Fear again Throughout the breathing world's extent And to some meaner minstrel's lay 4 Than Love shall ever doubt a tone, A breath of the beloved one! 4 A frequent image among the oriental poets. "The nightingales warbled their enchanting notes, and rent the thin veils of the rose-bud and the rose Jami. Though blest, 'mid all her ills, to think Whose smile, though met on ruin's brink, On her a maid of ARABY A Moslem maid- the child of him, Whose bloody banner's dire success Hath left their altars cold and dim, And their fair land a wilderness! And, worse than all, that night of blood Which comes so fast oh! who shall stay The sword, that once hath tasted food "Save him, my God!" she inly cries "Have ever welcom'd with delight "The sinner's tears, the sacrifice "Of sinners' hearts-guard him this night, "And here, before thy throne, I swear "From my heart's inmost core to tear "Love, hope, remembrance, though they be "Link'd with each quivering life-string there, "And give it bleeding all to Thee! "Let him but live, the burning tear, "The sighs, so sinful yet so dear, "Which have been all too much his own, "Shall leave no traces of the flame "That wastes me now nor shall his name "E'er bless my lips, but when I pray "For his dear spirit, that away 66 Casting from its angelic ray "Th' eclipse of earth, he too may shine "One wandering star of virtue back "To its own native, heaven-ward track! "Let him but live, and both are Thine, "Together Thine-for, blest or crost, "Living or dead, his doom is mine, "And if he perish, both are lost!" THE HE next evening LALLA ROOKH was entreated by her Ladies to continue the relation of her wonderful dream; but the fearful interest that hung round the fate of HINDA and her lover had completely removed every trace of it from her mind; -much to the disappointment of a fair seer or two in her train, who prided themselves on their skill in interpreting visions, and who had already remarked, as an unlucky omen, that the Princess, on the very morning after the dream, had worn a silk dyed with the blossoms of the sorrowful tree, Nilica. FADLADEEN, whose wrath had more than once broken out during the recital of some parts of this most heterodox poem, seemed at length to have made up his mind to the infliction; and took his seat this evening with all the patience of a martyr, while the Poet continued his profane and seditious story thus: |