, Fond maid, the sorrow of her soul was such, E'en reason sunk, blighted beneath its touch ; And though, ere long, her sanguine spirit rose Above the first dead pressure of its woes, Though health and bloom return'd, the delicate chain Of thought, once tangled, never clear'd again. Warm, lively, soft as in youth's happiest day, The mind was still all there, but turned astray ;A wandering bark, upon whose pathway shone All stars of heaven, except the guiding one! Again she smiled, nay, much and brightly smiled, But 'twas a lustre strange, unreal, wild; And when she sung to her lute's touching strain, 'Twas like the notes, half ecstasy, half pain, The bulbul 1 utters, ere her soul depart, When, vanquished by some minstrel's powerful art, She dies upon the lute whose sweetness broke her heart! Such was the mood in which that mission found Young Zelica — that mission, which around The eastern world, in every region blest With woman's smile, sought out its loveliest, To grace that galaxy of lips and eyes, Which the Veil'd Prophet destined for the skies! And such quick welcome as a spark receives Dropp'd on a bed of autumn's wither'd leaves, Did every tale of these enthusiasts find 1 The nightingale. In the wild maiden's sorrow-blighted mind. some?" Alas, poor Zelica! it needed all The fantasy, which held thy mind in thrall, To see in that gay haram’s glowing maids A sainted colony for Eden's shades; Or dream that he, - of whose unholy flame Thou wert too soon the victim, - shining came From Paradise, to people its pure sphere With souls like thine, which he hath ruin'd here! No - had not reason's light totally set, And left thee dark, thou hadst an amulet In the loved image, graven on thy heart, Which would have saved thee from the tempter's art, And kept alive, in all its bloom of breath, That purity, whose fading is love's death! But lost, inflamed, — a restless zeal took place Of the mild virgin's still and feminine grace; First of the Prophet's favorites, proudly first In zeal and charms, — too well th' impostor nursed Her soul's delirium, in whose active flame, , ; - ness! 'Twas from a brilliant banquet, where the sound Of poesy and music breathed around, Together picturing to her mind and ear The glories of that heaven, her destined sphere, Where all was pure, where every stain that lay Upon the spirit's light should pass away, And, realizing more than youthful love E'er wish'd or dream'd, she should forever rove Through fields of fragrance by her Azim's side, His own bless'd, purified, eternal bride! 'Twas from a scene, a witching trance like this, He hurried her away, yet breathing bliss, To the dim charnel-house ; — through all its steams Of damp and death, led only by those gleams Which foul Corruption lights, as with design To show the gay and proud she too can shine! And, passing on through upright ranks of dead, Which to the maiden, doubly crazed by dread, Seem'd, through the bluish death-light round them cast, To move their lips in mutterings as she pass'd There, in that awful place, when each had quaff’d And pledged in silence such a fearful draught, Such — oh! the look and taste of that red bowl Will haunt her till she dies — he bound her soul By a dark oath, in hell's own language framed, Never, while earth his mystic presence claim'd, While the blue arch of day hung o'er them both, Never, by that all-imprecating oath, In joy or sorrow from his side to sever. She swore, and the wide charnel echo'd, “never, never!" From that dread hour, entirely, wildly given To him and — she believed, lost maid! – to Heaven; Her brain, her heart, her passions all inflamed, How proud she stood, when in full haram named The Priestess of the Faith! - how flash'd her eyes With light, alas! that was not of the skies, When round in trances only less than hers, She saw the haram kneel, her prostrate worshippers. Well might Mokanna think that form alone Had spells enough to make the world his own : Light, lovely limbs, to which the spirit's play Gave motion, airy as the dancing spray, When from its stem the small bird wings away! Lips in whose rosy labyrinth, when she smiled, The soul was lost; and blushes, swift and wild, As are the momentary meteors sent Across th' uncalm but beauteous firmament. - And such was now young Zelica - so changed From her who, some years since, delighted ranged The almond groves, that shade Bokhara's tide, All life and bliss, with Azim by her side! So alter'd was she now, this festal day, When, 'mid the proud divan's dazzling array, The vision of that youth, whom she had loved, And wept as dead, before her breathed and moved :When— bright, she thought, as if from Eden's track But half-way trodden, he had wander'd back Again to earth, glistening with Eden's light Her beauteous Azim shone before her sight, O Reason! who shall say what spells renew, When least we look for it, thy broken clue? Through what small vistas o'er the darken'd brain Thy intellectual daybeam bursts again? And how, like forts, to which beleaguerers win |