So boldly utter'd too! as if all dread
Of frowns from her, of virtuous frowns, were fled,
And the wretch felt assured that, once plunged in,
Her woman's soul would know no pause in sin!

At first, though mute she listend, like a dream Seemd all he said ; nor could her mind, whose

beam As yet was weak, penetrate half his scheme. But when, at length, he uttered, “Thou art she!” All flash'd at once, and, shrieking piteously, “Oh, not for worlds!” she cried — “Great God! to

whom
I once knelt innocent, is this my doom?
Are all my dreams, my hopes of heavenly bliss,
My purity, my pride, then come to this? -
To live, the wanton of a fiend! to be

a
The pander of his guilt — O infamy!
And sunk, myself, as low as hell can steep
In its hot flood, drag others down as deep!
Others? — ha! yes — that youth who came to-day —
Not him I loved — not him — oh, do but say,
But swear to me this moment 'tis not he,
And I will serve, dark fiend! will worship even

thee!"

“ Beware, young raving thing! - in time beware, Nor utter what I cannot, must not bear Even from thy lips. Go— try thy lute, thy voice; The boy must feel their magic — I rejoice To see those fires, no matter whence they rise

Once more illuming my fair Priestess' eyes;
And should the youth, whom soon those eyes shall

warm,
Indeed resemble thy dead lover's form,
So much the happier wilt thou find thy doom,
As one warm lover, full of life and bloom,
Excels ten thousand cold ones in the tomb.
Nay, nay, no frowning, sweet! — those eyes were

made For love, not anger — I must be obey'd.”

66

On me

Obey'd! — 'tis well yes, I deserve it all

on me Heaven's vengeance cannot fall Too heavily — but Azim, brave and true And beautiful — must he be ruin'd too? Must he, too, glorious as he is, be driven, A renegade, like me, from love and heaven? Like me? - weak wretch, I wrong him — not like me; No— he's all truth and strength and purity! Fill up your maddening hell-cup to the brim, Its witchery, fiends, will have no charm for him. Let loose your glowing wantons from their bowers, He loves, he loves, and can defy their powers! Wretch as I am, in his heart still I reign Pure as when first we met, without a stain! Though ruind - lost — my memory, like a charm Left by the dead, still keeps his soul from harm. Oh! never let him know how deep the brow He kiss'd at parting is dishonor'd now — Ne'er tell him how debased, how sunk is she, Whom once he loved! - once!--still loves dotingly!

Thou laugh'st, tormentor, - what!- thou'lt brand

my name?
Do, do — in vain — he'll not believe my shame –
He thinks me true — that naught beneath God's sky
Could tempt or change me, and so once thought I.
But this is past — though worse than death my lot,
Than hell — tis nothing, while he knows it not.
Far off to some benighted land I'll fly,
Where sunbeam ne'er shall enter till I die;
Where none will ask the lost one whence she came,
But I may fade and fall without a name!
And thou – curst man or fiend, whate'er thou art,
Who found'st this burning plague-spot in my heart,
And spread'st it — oh, so quick! — through soul and

frame,
With more than demon's art, till I became
A loathesome thing, all pestilence, all flame! -
If, when I'm gone

“Hold, fearless maniac, hold, Nor tempt my rage! — by Heaven! not half so bold The puny bird that dares, with teasing hum, Within the crocodile's stretch'd jaws to come!1

1 The ancient story concerning the Trochilus, or humming-bird, entering with impunity into the mouth of the crocodile, is firmly believed in Java. — Barrow's CochinChina.

The humming-bird is said to run this risk for the purpose of picking the crocodile's teeth. The same circumstance is related of the lapwing as a fact to which he was witness, by Paul Lucas. Voyage fait en 1714.

And so thou'lt fly, forsooth? — what! — give up all
Thy chaste dominion in the Haram Hall,
Where now to Love and now to Alla given,
Half mistress and half saint, thou hang'st as even
As doth Medina's tomb, 'twixt hell and heaven!
Thou'lt fly?— as easily may reptiles run
The gaunt snake once hath fix'd his eyes upon;
As easily, when caught, the prey may be
Pluck'd from his loving folds, as thou from me.
No, no, 'tis fix'd — let good or ill betide,
Thou'rt mine till death, till death Mokanna's bride!
Hast thou forgot thy oath? —"

At this dread word, The Maid, whose spirit his rude taunts had stirr'd Through all its depths, and roused an anger there, That burst and lighten'd even through her despair ;Shrunk back, as if a blight were in the breath That spoke that word, and stagger'd, pale as death.

“ Yes, my sworn bride, let others seek in bowers Their bridal place — the charnel vault was ours! Instead of scents and balms, for thee and me Rose the rich steams of sweet mortality ;Gay, Pickering death-lights shone while we were wed, And, for our guests, a row of goodly dead (Immortal spirits in their time, no doubt), From reeking shrouds upon the rite look'd out! That oath thou heard'st more lips than thine

repeat That cup - thou shudderest, lady – was it sweet?

That cup we pledged, the charnel's choicest wine
Hath bound thee — aye — body and soul all mine;
Bound thee by chains that, whether blest or curst,
No matter now, not hell itself shall burst!
Hence, woman, to the haram, and look gay,
Look wild, look — anything but sad; yet stay — -
One moment more — from what this night hath

pass'd,
I see thou know'st me, know'st me well at last.
Ha! ha! and so, fond thing, thou thought'st all true,
And that I love mankind - I do, I do -

- I As victims, love them ; as the sea-dog doats Upon the small sweet fry that round him floats; Or as the Nile-bird loves the slime that gives That rank and venomous food on which she lives! 1

“ And now thou seest my soul's angelic hue, 'Tis time these features were uncurtained too; This brow, whose light — O rare celestial light! Hath been reserved to bless thy favor'd sight; These dazzling eyes, before whose shrouded might Thou'st seen immortal Man kneel down and quake Would that they were heaven's lightnings for his

sake! But turn and look then wonder, if thou wilt, That I should hate, should take revenge, by guilt, Upon the hand, whose mischief or whose mirth

1 Circum easdem ripas (Nili, viz.) ales est Ibis. Ea serpentium populatur ova, gratissimamque ex his escam nidis suis refert. - Solinus.