Their confinement at Rosetta, continued more than six weeks, when the arrival of a convoy at Alexandria, gave them an opportunity, through the assistance of the English Agent, of procuring a passage to Maita. They reached England in November, 1815.

This volume contains, in an Appendix, a short Itinerary through Syria, by Shekh Ibrahim, and fuc similes of some Thebaic manuscripts, the originals of which are on leather, that were purchased by the author at Elephantina.

We are led to expect from Mr. Banks son to Sir Joseph Banks, who is now exploring the same portion of the African Continent, who was met in his travels by our author, and who has penetrated much further into the interior, a more complete and satisfactory account of these unfrequented regions. We are, nevertheless, obliged to Mr. Legh, for his candid and perspicuous narrative, though he has not, added very much to the stock of our previous information.

E.

& WILEY. 24mo. pp. 333.

IN the catalogue of New Publications, N the catalogue of New Publications, count of the romance of Lalla Rookh. It is not our intention to recapitulate the story of which we have there sketched an outline. Want of leisure and want of room, however, prevented us, at that time, from attempting any analysis of the poems of which it serves as the frame, or from entering into a minute investigation of their merits. To this task, as far as our means and limits will allow, we shall now apply ourselves.

In the brief notice to which we have alluded, it was observed that Mr. Moore's plan of interweaving a variety of independent tales with the thread of a continuous fiction, the interest of which is not sufficient to render these digressions painful, though unusual, is no novelty. It does not require a deep research into the literature of those regions to which the poetintroduces us, to discover analagous compositions. The well-known Arabian Tales of the Thousand and One Nights,-of which there have been two recent English editions, one by Forster from the French of Galland, and one by Mr. Jonathan Scott from Arabian manuscripts brought from Turkey by Edward Wortley Montague, Esq. the husband of the celebrated Lady Mary,- --are connected by a similar filament. The Persian Tales which have been translated into English from the French of Petis de la Croix, are likewise included in a frame. The same method of combining multifarious collections has been adopted by the numerous imitators of oriental stories both in France and England. The Contes Tartares of Gueulette, and the Tales of the Genii by Ridley, are instances of this kind. Nor is the practice confined to this class of writers. VOL. I. NO. v.

The admirable Decameron of Boccaccio is constructed much after the Arabian model. Chaucer, the father of English poetry, in his Canterbury Tales, has conformed to so convenient a system; and the facetious Dr. Wolcott, (Peter Pindar,) in the Tales of the Hoy, has avowedly followed these illustrious authorities, whilst in his alternation of verse and prose, he has set the example to Mr. Moore.

In the proem to his Metrical Tales, Mr. Moore raises high expectations. Our imagination is inflamed by the portrait of the beauteous Princess, whose charms are said to transcend those of all the nymphs whose loveliness had inspired the tuneful poets of Persia and Indostan. The description of the youthful minstrel is not calculated to cool our anticipations. We are in doubt whether we are to be dissolved in all the luxury of the amatory poetry of the east, or melted to tenderness by a melancholy lay, founded on some tragic incident in the eventful history of that devoted country; or whether the exploits of some splendid invader, or patriot chief, are to kindle in our bosoms the kindred glow of generous rage. Our fancy seizes on the circumstances most adapted to poetical embellishment. The name of the fratricide Aurungzebe recalls the recollection of the noble victims of his heartless ambition. The high-minded, open, and confiding Dara, whose misfortunes not less than his virtues endear him to the feeling mind, might well be selected as the hero of a pathetic tale. Vanquished, not by valour but by treachery, we behold him on the borders of Sindy, hesitating whether to abandon his birthright and seek a refuge in the dominions of Persia, or to make another effort to retrieve his des perate fortunes, and, in the attempt, ex

2 U

pose the faithful, but feeble companions of his flight, to the perils and sufferings of the desert, that intervened between him and the distant province of Guzerat. In this crisis of fearful irresolution, we are filled with admiration of the lofty and decided spirit of his favourite Sultana. "Can the first of the race of Timur," she exclaims, "hesitate in this moment of distress? On the one side there is danger, but there may also be a throne;on the other a frightful solitude, or the cold reception that stangers give to fugitive princes. If Dara cannot decide, I, who am the daughter of Purvez will decide for myself. This hand shall prevent me by death from dishonour. The descendant of the immortal Timur shall not grace the Haram of the race of Sheick Šefi!" We do not wonder at his election. We We accompany him with our sympathies through new reverses. We enter into his griefs, when, worn out with accumulated calamities, the heroic Sultana expires in his arms, at Jihon. "It is only now," said Dara, "I have found that I am alone. I was not bereft of all my friends whilst Nadira lived." We can appreciate the feelings which induced him to send the body of his deceased wife, under the escort of the remnant of his followers, to be interred in the sepulchre of her ancestors, at Lahore. Aurungzebe himself," said the unhappy Prince, "will not refuse a grave to the family of Dara." The fate of Suja, a prince who was not inferior to Dara either in bravery or accomplishments, is equally deplorable. We even forget the follies of the indiscreet but chivalrous Morad, in the ignominy of his untimely end But no-the poet of Cashmere will not entertain the daughter of Aurungzebe with the catalogue of her father's crimes. Perhaps he will tune his lyre to celebrate the deathless achievements of Jenghis Khan, or of Tinur Bek. Perhaps-but why multiply conjectures? The volume is before us. Let us see what themes our author has selected as most worthy of his Muse.

66

The first of these poems is entitled, "The Veiled Prophet of Khorassan.' We will confess that our acquaintance with oriental history was so limited as not to afford us, at the instant, any distinct remembrance of this august personage. To possess ourselves at once of such facts as inight be recorded in relation to him, we turned immediately, (not ha ng D'Herbelot at hand,) to May 's compend of history, where we find the following epitome of his life and character. "During this reign, (the reign of Al Mohdi, or Maha

di, as Mr. Moore calls him,) a man named Al Mokanna set up for a prophet; he was extremely deformed, and had lost an eye. To conceal this defect, he wore a veil, which he said was to prevent those who looked at him from being dazzled by the splendour of his countenance. He was a juggler as well as a prophet, and, among other tricks, he caused the appearance of a moon to rise every night from the bottom of a well, which gained him the appellation of moon-maker. He attached to himself so large a number of disciples that Al Mohdi was at length obliged to send an army against them. Mokanna, finding himself shut up in citadel, without hope of relief, poisoned his associates, burnt their remains, and threw himself into the fire. His proselytes however did not despair, for he promised that his soul should transmigrate into the body of a gray headed old man, when he would return, and make them masters of the earth." Anxious to gain all possible intelligence respecting this amiable impostor, we next had recourse to the Universal History, from which we gathered these additional particulars. This wretch's name was Hakem Ebn Hashem. He was originally of Meru in Khorassan, where he was under secretary to Abu Moslem, the governor of that province. He afterwards became a soldier; and at last turned prophet. He was called Al Mokanna or Al Borkai, which signifies the veiled, from his wearing a veil to hide his deformity, having lost an eye in the wars. The circumstances of his death are confirmed; though we are told that it has been stated by some authors, that he plunged himself into a cistern of aqua fortis. One of his concubines concealed herself, and thus escaped the general poisoning and deflagration; and disclosed the procedure. His calculations on the credulity of his votaries were not disappointed. They were long after known by the name of Mobbeyyidites, and were dressed in white in opposition to the Khalifs of the house of Al Abbas, whose habiliments were black. Mokanna inculcated the doctrine of the transmigration of the divine effluence by which Adam was created in the image of God, and asserted that this emanation of the Deity which had successively animated Adam, Moses, and his master Abu Moslem, resided in himself. This rebellion was quelled by Ebn Sa'id, the general of Al Mohdi.

A fitter subject for a modern ballad could not have been found; and we must do Mr. Moore the justice to acknowledge that, except in the last particular, he has

1817.

adhered to historical truth with great fidelity; and that where he has indulged his pencil in a little freedom, he has chiefly laboured, and, strange as it may seem, we confess not unsuccessfully, to render loathsomeness more hideous, and horror more horrible.

But we will suspend our remarks on Mr. Moore's felicity in the choice of his subject, till we have presented his own view of it. The poem commences with the description of a fete given by the prophet at Merou on the occasion of Azim's Joining his standard. This young warrior is described as a youth of singular grace, valour and ability, who had been in his boyhood a captive to the Greeks, among whom he had imbibed, we cannot well imagine how at that period, though Mr. M. pretends to account for it, an elevated love of liberty. The ladies of the Haram were permitted to view the pageant through a screen; and as the reader might have predicted,

-there was one among the chosen maids Who blush'd behind the gallery's silken shades, One, to whose soul the pageant of to-day Has been like death;-you saw her pale dismay, Ye wondering sisterhood, and heard the burst Of exclamation from her lips, when first She saw that youth, too well, too dearly known, Silently kneeling at the Prophet's throne.

Zelica, for such is the fair one's name, has been the early love of Azim. Their attachment was from childhood; but Azim was soon summoned to war under the Persian banners, and forced to exchange

his sylvan dwelling-place

For the rude tent and war-field's deathful clash :
His Zelica's sweet glances for the flash
Of Grecian wild-fire, and Love's gentle chains
For bleeding bondage on Byzantium's plains.
Month after month, in widowhood of soul
Drooping, the maiden saw two summers roll
Their suns away-but, ah! how cold and dim
E'en summer suns, when not beheld with him!
From time to time ill-omen'd rumours came,
(Like spirit-tongues, muttering the sick man's

name,

Just ere he dies) at length, those sounds of

dread

chain

nies.

streams

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 craz'd by dread,
Seem'd, through the bluish death-light round
them cast,

To move their lips in mutterings as she pass'dThere, in that awful place, when each had quaft'd

And pledg'd 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 fram'd, 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 echoed, "never, never!"

Such a prelude could not but lead to a happy consummation.

In this degraded condition was Zelica when Azim came to swell the train of the Prophet. Shame had drowned her in tears, when she received the summons to attend her lord. To the secret kiosk, where she was accustomed to assist his pri

vate meditations, she now slowly and reluctantly repaired. In the mean time Mokanna, for the sake of conversation, is obliged to amuse himself with a very facetious soliloquy, which is so entertaining, and withal so natural, that we will e'en present it entire. We are to imagine him stretched on his couch, and quaffing a little of that ruddy juice, which if we are to attribute any of his stupid blasphemy to its effects, was wisely prohibited to his followers.

And still he drank and ponder'd-nor could sec
Th' approaching maid, so deep his reverie;
At length, with fiendish laugh, like that which

broke

"God's images, forsooth!-such gods as he "Whom India serves, the monkey deity ;"Ye creatures of a breath, proud things of clay, "To whom if Lucifer, as grandams say, "Refus'd, though at the forfeit of heaven's hight, "To bend in worship, Lucifer was right!—— "Soon shall I plant this foot upon the neck "Of your foul race, and without fear or check, "Luxuriating in hate, avenge my shame, "My deep-felt, long-nurst loathing of man's

name!

"Soon, at the head of myriads, blind and fierce, "As hooded falcons, through the universe "I'll sweep my darkening, desolating way, "Weak man my instrument, curst man my prey! "Ye wise, ye learn'd, who grope your dull

way on

"By the dim twinkling gleams of ages gone, "Like superstitious thieves, who think the light "From dead men's marrow guides them best at night

"Ye shall have honours-wealth—yes, Sages, yes

"I know, grave fools, your wisdom's nothing

ness;

"Undazzled it can track yon starry sphere "But a gilt stick, a bauble blinds it here. "How I shall laugh, when trumpeted along, "In lying speech, and still more lying song, "By these learn'd slaves, the meanest of the throng;

"Their wits bought up, their wisdom shrunk so small,

"A sceptre's puny point can wield it all!

"Ye too, believers of incredible creeds, "Whose faith enshrines the monsters which it

breeds;

"Who bolder e'en than Nemrod, think to rise, By nonsense heap'd on nonsense, to the

skies;

"Ye shall have miracles, aye sound ones too, "Seen, heard, attested, every thing-but true. "Your preaching zealots, too inspir'd to seek "One grace of meaning for the things they speak;

"Your martyrs, ready to shed out their blood, "For truths too heavenly to be understood; "And your State Priests, sole venders of the love,

"That works salvation ;-as on Ava's shore, "Where none but priests are privileg'd to trade "In that best marble of which Gods are made;

"They shall have mysteries-aye precious stuff "For knaves to thrive by-mysteries enough; "Dark, tangled doctrines, dark as fraud can

weave,

"Which simple votaries shall on trust receive, "While craftier feign belief, till they believe. "A Heav'n too ye must have, ye lords of dust"A splendid Paradise-pure souls, ye must: "That Prophet ili sustains his holy call, "Who finds not Heav'ns to suit the tastes of all; "Houris for boys, omniscience for sages, "And wings and glories for all ranks and ages. "Vain things-as lust or vanity inspires, "The Heav'n of each is but what each desires, "And, soul or sense, whate'er the object be, "Man would be man to all eternity! "So let him-Eblis! grant this crowning curse, "But keep him what he is, no Heil were worse."

Unfortunately for the poor deluded Zelica she overheard this impious rant. The spell was broken-"Oh my lost soul," burst from her lips. Mokanna discovered that his hypocrisy was detected,-but his impudence was not to be abashed. Ha, my fair Priestess!"-thus, with ready wile,

Th' impostor turn'd to greet her-" thou whose smile

"Hath inspiration in its rosy beam "Beyond th' Enthusiast's hope or Prophet's dream!

"Light of the Faith! who twin'st religion's zeal "So close with love's, men know not which they feel,

"Nor which to sigh for, in their trance of heart, "The Heav'n thou preachest or the Heav'n thou art!" &c. &c.

In this strain he proceeds to inform her of the part she is to perform, in an attack he is about to make on Azim's virtae. She revolts at the proposition, and declares that were her detestation of the deed less, still this youth's resemblance to him she loved, (for she still believes Azim dead,) would alone make the idea of being accessary to his ruin insupportable. Mokanna taunts what he deems an affectation of purity, and sneeringly says, "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."

Driven to desperation by his barbarity, Zelica gives vent to her indignation in a torrent of reproaches, and threatens to fly to some undiscovered solitude where she may bury her name and her disgraces in oblivion. But Al Mokanna checks the career of her fancy by reminding her of her oath; and refreshes her memory by recounting the rites by which their alliance had been cemented; and to fix himself forever in her affections, gives her a had so long veiled from mortal eyes. glimpse of those perfections which he