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Whose smile, though met on ruin's And here, before thy throne, I swear brink,
From my heart's inmost core to tear, Hath power to makee'en ruin dear,- Love, hope, remembrance, though Yet soon this gleam of rapture cross'd they be By fears for him, is chillid and lost. Link'd with each quivering life-string How shall the ruthless Hafed brook
there, That one of Gheber blood should look, And give it bleeding all to Thee ! With aught but curses in his eye, Let him but live, the burning tear, On her--a maid of Araby
The sighs, so sinful, yet so dear, A Moslem maid-the child of him, Which have been all too much his own,
Whose bloody banner's dire success Shall from this hour be Heaven's alone. Hath left their altars cold and dim, Youth pass'd in penitence, and age
And their fair land a wilderness ! In long and painful pilgrimage, And, worse than all, that night of blood Shall leave no traces of the Hame Which comes so fast-oh! who shall That wastes menow-nor shall his name stay
E'er bless my lips, but when I pray The sword, that once hath tasted food For his dear spirit, that away
Of Persian hearts, or turn its way? Casting from its angelic ray What arm shall then the victim cover, Th' eclipse of earth, he too may shine Or from her father shield her lover? Redeem'd, all-glorious and all thine !
Think-think what victory to win
One radiant soul like his from sin ;"Save him, my God!' she inly cries – One wandering star of virtue back • Save him this night-and if thine eyes To its own native, heavenward track !
Have ever welcomed with delight Let him but live, and both are thine, The sinner's tears, the sacrifice
Together thine--for bless'd or cross'd Of sinners' hearts-guard him this Living or dead, his doom is mine, night,
And if he perish, both are lost!'
The 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 sorrowfui 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 intliction ; and took his seat this evening with all the patience of a martyr, while the poet continued his profane and seditious story thus:-To tearless eyes and hearts at ease At its calm setting—when the west The leafy shores and sun-bright seas, Opens her golden bowers of rest, That lay beneath the mountain's height, and a moist radiance from the skies Had been a fair, enchanting sight. Shoots trembling down, as from the eyes 'Twas one of those ambrosial eves Of some meek penitent, whose last, A day of storm so often leaves
Bright hours atone for dark ones past,
1 Blosscms of the sorrowful Nyctanthe give a durable colour to silk.'-Remarks on the Hus. bandry of Bengal, p. 200. Nilica is one of the
Indian names of this flower.'-Sir W. Jones, "The Persians call it Gul.'-Carreri.
And whose sweet tears, o'er wrong for- In whose red beam, the Moslem tells, given,
Such rank and deadly lustre dwells, Shine, as they fall, with light from As in those hellish fires that light heaven!
Themandrake's charnel leaves at night!
How shall she bear that voice's tone, Twas stillness all—the winds that late At whose loud battle-cry alone Hadrush'd through Kerman's almond Whole squadrons oft in panic ran, groves,
Scatter'd, like some vast caravan, And shaken from her bowers of date
When, stretch'd at evening round the That cooling feast the traveller loves,
well, Now, lulld to languor, scarcely curl They hear the thirsting tiger's yell The Green Sea wave, whose waters gleam
Breathless she stands, with eyes cast Limpid, as if her mines of pearl Were melted all to form the stream; Shrinking beneath the fiery frown,
down, And her fair islets, small and bright, With their green shores reflected Which; fancy tells her, from that brow there,
Is flashing o'er her fiercely now; Look like those Peri isles of light,
And shuddering, as she hears the tread That bang by spell-work in the air.
Of his retiring warrior band.
Never was pause so full of dread; But vainly did these glories burst Till Hafed with a trembling hand On Hinda's dazzled eyes, when first Took hers, and, leaning o'er her, said, The bandage from her brow was taken, Hinda !'—that word was all he spoke, And pale and awed as those who waken And 'twas enough-the shriek that In their dark tombs—when, scowling
From her full bosom told the restThe Searchers of the grave? appear,
Panting with terror, joy, surprise, She shuddering turn'd to read her fate The maid but lifts her wondering
In the fierce eyes that flash'd around; eyes, And saw those towers all desolate,
To hide them on her Gheber's breast ! That o'er her head terrific frown'd, 'Tis he, 'tis he-the man of blood, As if defying e'en the smile
The fellest of the Fire-fiend's brood, Of that soft heaven to gild their pile.
Hafed, the demon of the fight, In vain, with mingled hope and fear,
Whose voice unnerves, whose glances She looks for him whose voice so dear blight, Had come, like music, to her ear- Is her own lovèd Gheber, mild Strange, mocking dream! again 'tis fled, And glorious as when first he smiled And oh! the shoots, the pangs of dread In her lone tower, and left such beams That through her inmost bosom run, Of his pure eye to light her dreams,
When voices from without proclaim That she believed her bower had given • Hafed, the Chief '-and one by one,
Rest to some wanderer from heaven ! The warriors shout that fearful name! Hecomes-therock resounds his tread - Moments there are, and this was one, How shall she dare to lift her head, Snatch'd like a minute's gleam of sun Or meet those eyes, whose scorching Amid the black simoom's eclipseglare
Or like those verdaut spots that Not Yemen's boldest sons can bear ?
l'In parts of Kerman, whatever dates are the Creed of the Orthodox Mahometans' given shaken from the trees by the wind they do not by Ockley, vol. ii. touch, but leave them for those who have not 3 * The Arabians call the mandrake" the devil's any, or for travellers.'—Ebn Haukal.
candle," on account of its shining appearance in The two terrible angels, Monkir and Nakir, the night.'—Richardson, who are called 'the Searchers of the Grave in
Around the crater's burning lips, Now bounded on and gave their sails,
Sweetening the very edge of doom! Yet dripping, to the evening gales ;
Were still with lingering glories E'en he, this youth-though dimm’d
As if, to grace the gorgeous west, Each star of hope that cheer'd him
The Spirit of departing Light
That eve had left his sunny vest His glories lost-his cause betray'd-
Behind him, ere he wing'd his flight. Iran, his dear-loved country made
Never was scene so form’d for love! A land of carcases and slaves,
Beneath them, waves of crystal move One dreary waste of chains and
In silent swell-heaven glows above,
And their pure hearts, to transport Himself but lingering, dead at heart, To see the last, long-struggling breath Swell like the wave, and glow like
given, Of Liberty's great soul depart,
heaven ! Then lay him down, and share her But, ah ! too soon that dream is past, death
Again, again her fear returns ; E'en he, so sunk in wretchedness,
Night, dreadful night, is gathering fast, With doom still darker gathering
More faintly the horizon burns, o'er him,
And every rosy tint that lay Yet in this moment's pure caress, On the smooth sea hath died away. In the mild eyes that shone before Hastily to the darkening skies him,
A glance she casts—then wildly cries, Beaming that blest assurance, worth
* At night, he said-and, look, 'tis All other transports known on earth, That he was loved - well, warmly
Fly, fly-if yet thou lov'st me, flyloved
Soon will his murderous band be here, Oh ! in this precious hour he proved
And I shall see thee bleed and die. How deep, how thorough-felt the glow Hush !-heard'st thou not the tramp of Of rapture, kindling out of woe ;How exquisite one single drop
Sounding from yonder fearful glen !Of bliss, thus sparkling to the top
Perhaps e'en now they climb the Of inisery's cup—how keenly quaff”d,
woodThough death must follow on the
Fly, Ay-though still the west is draught !
He'll come-oh! yes-he wants thy She too, while gazing on those eyes blood
That sink into her soul so deep, I know him-he'll not wait for night! Forgets all fears, all miseries,
Or feels them like the wretch in sleep, Whom fancy cheats into a smile,
In terrors e'en to agony Who dreams of joy, and sobs the while! She clings around the wondering The mighty ruins where they stood, Chief ;
Upon the mount's high, rocky verge, 'Alas, poor wilder'd maid ! to me Lay open towards the ocean flood, Thou ow'st this raving trance of
Where lightly o'er th'illumined surge grief. Many a fair bark that, all the day, Lost as I am, nought ever grew Had lurk'd in sheltering creek or bay, Beneath my shade but perish'd too
My doom is like the Dead-Sea air, Good Heaven, how little dream'd I
was my own loved Beneath this morning's furious heaven? youth !Why, when I saw the prize that chance Fly-seud-let some one watch the Had thrown into my desperate glenarms,
By all my hopes of heaven 'tis truth!' When, casting but a single glance Oh! colder than the wind that freezes
Upon thy pale and prostrate charms, Founts, that but now in sunshine I vow'd (though watching viewless play'd, o'er
ls that congealing pang which seizes Thy safety through that hour's The trusting bosom, when betray'd. alarms)
He felt it-deeply felt-and stood, To meet th' unmanning sight no more- As if the tale had frozen his blood, Why have I broke tbat heart-wrung
So mazed and motionless was he;vow?
Like one whom sudden spells enchant, Why weakly, madly, inet thee now?- Or some mute, marble habitant Start not-that noise is but the shock Of the still Halls of Ishmonie !! Of torrents through yon valley hurl'd
But soon the painful chill was o'er, Dread nothing here-upon this rock And his great soul, herself once more,
We stand above the jarring world, Look'd from his brow in all the rays Alike beyond its hope—its dread- Of her best, happiest, grandest days ! In gloomy safety, like the dead ! Never, in moment most elate, Or, could e'en earth and hell unite Did that high spirit loftier rise ;In league to storm this sacred height, While bright, serene, determinate, Fear nothing now--myself, to-night, His looks are lifted to the skies, And each o'erlooking star that dwells As if the signal-lights of fate Near God will be thy sentinels ;
Were shining in those awful eyes ! And, ere to-morrow's dawn shall glow, Tis come-his hour of martyrdom Back to thy sire--
In Iran's sacred cause is come; "To-morrow !-no'— And, though his life hath pass'd away : The maiden scream'd—thou'lt never Like lightning on a stormy day,
Yet shall his death-hour leave a track To-morrow's sun-death, death will be Of glory, permanent and bright, The night-cry through each reeking To which the brave of after-times, tower,
The suffering brave, shall long look Unless we fly, aye, fly this hour !
back Thou art betray'd-some wretch who With proud regret,--and by its light knew
Watch through the hours of slavery's That dreadful glen's mysterious clue- night Nay, doubt not—by yon stars, 'tis For vengeance on th'oppressor's crimes. true
This rock, his monument aloft, Hath sold thee to my vengeful sire; Shall speak the tale to many an age : This mornivg, with that smile so dire And hither bards and heroes oft He wears in joy, he told me all,
Shall come in secret pilgrimage, And stamp'd in triumph through our And bring their warrior sons, and tell hall,
The wondering boys where Hafed fell. As though thy heart already beat And swear them on those lone remains Its last life-throb beneath his feet! Of their lost country's ancient fanes,
1 For an account of Tshmonie, the petrified many statues of men, women, &c., to be seen to city in Upper Egypt, where it is said there are this day, vide Perry's V'ieve of the Levant.
Never-while breath of life shall live I pray thee, as thou lov'st me, fly-
Can waft us o'er yon darkening sea Such are the swelling thoughts that East-west-alas, I care not whither
So thou art safe, and I with thee! Enthrone themselves on Hafed's brow; Go where we will, this hand in thine, And ne'er did saint of Issa' gaze Those eyes before me smiling thus, On the red wreath, for martyrs Through good and ill, through storm twined,
and shine, More proudly than the youth surveys The world's a world of love for us ! That pile, which through the gloom On some calm, blessed shore we'll dwell, behind
Where 'tis no crime to love too well ;Half lighted by the altar's fire, Where thus to worship tenderly Glimmers—his destined funeral pyre!, An erring child of light like thee Yeap'd by his own, his comrades' Will not be sin-or, if it be, hands,
Where we may weep our faults away Of every wood of odorous breath,
Together kneeling, night and day, There, by the Fire-God's shrine it Thou, for my sake, at Alla's shrine, stands,
And I-at any God's, for thine !' Ready to fold in radiant death The few still left of those who swore Wildly these passionate words she To perish there, when hope was o'er- spokeThe few, to whom that couch of flame, Then hung her head, and wept for Which rescues them from bonds and
Sobbing, as if a heart-string broke Is sweet and welcome as the bed
With every deep-heaved sob that For their own infant Prophet spread, When pitying Heaven to roses turn'd While he, young, warm-oh! wonder The death-flames that beneath him not burn'd !
If, for a moment, pride and fame,
His oath-his cause that shrine of With watchfulness the maid attends flame, His rapid glance, where'er it bends- And Iran's self are all forgot Why shoot his eyes such awful beams ? For her whom at his feet he sees What plans he now? what thinks or Kneeling in speechless agonies. dreams?
No, blame him not, if Hope awhile Alas! why stands he musing bere, Dawn'd in his soul, and threw her smile When every moment teems with fear? O'er hours to come-o'er days and Safed, my own beloved lord,'
nights She kneeling cries-' first, last adored! Wing'd with those precious, pure de. If in that soul thou'st ever felt
lights Half what thy lips impassion'd swore, which she, who bends all beauteous Here, on my knees that never knelt there,
To any but their God before, Was born to kindle and to share !
story told in Dion Prusæus, Orat. 36, that the * The Ghebers say that when Abraham, their love of wisdom and virtue leading him to a soli. great Prophet, was ihrown into the fire by order tary life upon a mountain, he found it one day all of Nimrod, the flame turned instantly into 'a in a flame, shining with celestial fire, out of bed of roses, where the child sweetly reposed.'— which he came without any harm, and instituted Tavernier,
certain sacrifices to God, who, he declared, then Of their other Prophet, Zoroaster, there is al appeared to him'— Vide Patrick on Exodus, iii, 2.