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 resumed his profane and seditious story as follows: To tearless eyes and hearts at ease Had been a fair enchanting sight. A day of storm so often leaves At its calm setting—when the West And a moist radiance from the skies Of some meek penitent, whose last And whose sweet tears, o'er wrong forgiven, Shine, as they fall, with light from heaven! "Twas stillness all-the winds that late Had rush'd through KERMAN's almond groves, And shaken from her bowers of date That cooling feast the traveller loves,* Now, lull'd to languor, scarcely curl The Green Sea wave, whose waters gleam Were melted all to form the stream: And her fair islets, small and bright, With their green shores reflected there, Look like those PERI isles of light, That hang by spell-work in the air. But vainly did those glories burst The Searchers of the Grave † appear, * "In parts of Kerman, whatever dates are shaken from the trees by the wind they do not touch, but leave them for those who have not any, or for travellers."- Ebn Haukal. †The two terrible angels, Monkir and Nakir, who are called "the Searchers of the Grave" in the "Creed of the orthodox Mahometans" given by Ockley, vol. ii. She shuddering turn'd to read her fate That o'er her head terrific frown'd, Of that soft heaven to gild their pile. 66 When voices from without proclaim HAFED, the Chief”—and, one by one, The warriors shout that fearful name! He comes the rock resounds his tread How shall she dare to lift her head, Or meet those eyes whose scorching glare Not YEMEN's boldest sons can bear? In whose red beam, the Moslem tells, Such rank and deadly lustre dwells, U As in those hellish fires that light The mandrake's charnel leaves at night.* How shall she bear that voice's tone, At whose loud battle-cry alone Whole squadrons oft in panic ran, Scatter'd like some vast caravan, When, stretch'd at evening round the well, They hear the thirsting tiger's yell. Breathless she stands, with eyes cast down, Shrinking beneath the fiery frown, Which, fancy tells her, from that brow Is flashing o'er her fiercely now: And shuddering as she hears the tread Till HAFED with a trembling hand Took hers, and, leaning o'er her, said, "HINDA; "that word was all he spoke, And 'twas enough-the shriek that broke *The Arabians call the mandrake 'the Devil's candle,' on account of its shining appearance in the night."— Richardson. |