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“ So gently back to its first innocence,

“I should have singled out thee, only thee, " That I would sooner stop th' unchained dove “From the whole world's collected treasury, " When swift returning to its home of love, “ To have thee here-to hang thus fondly o'er “ And round its snowy wing new fetters twine, “My own best, purest Zelira once more !" " Than turn from virtue olie pure wish of thine" It was, indeed, the touch of those lov'd lips

A choir of dancing girls succeed. Upon her eyes that chas'd their short eclipse, These in vain try the power of their blan. And, gradual as the snow, at heaven's breath, dishments. Azim remains invincible.

wihle Melts off and shows the azure flowers beneath,

Her lids unclos'd, and the bright eyes were seen But to escape from scenes, on which he

Gazing on bis ; not as they late had been, cannot look with indifference, he re- Quick, restless, wild, but mournfully serene, treats to the casement, through which the As if to lie, e'en for that tranced minute, moon sheds her mild rays, and in gazing So near his heart, had consolation in it! on the sleeping landscape, falls into a train And thus to wake in his belov'd caress

Took from her soul one half its wretchedness. of sombre contemplations. The image

the mage But, when she heard bim call her good and pure, of Zelica, and the painful remembrance On 'twas too much too dreadful to endure! of past joys, take possession of his soul. Shuddering she broke away from bis embrace, In this pensive mood he turns,

And, biding with both hands her guilty face, and sees a female form, close veil'd,

Said, in a tone whose anguish would have riven Leaning, as if both heart and strength had fail'd,

A heart of very marble, "pure! oh Heaven.”_ Against a pillar near ; not glittering o'er

That tone-those looks so chang'd-the withWith gems and wreaths, such as the others wore,

ering blight, But in that deep-blue, melancholy dress,

That sin and sorrow leave where'er they light-Bokhara's maidens wear in min Ifulness,

The dead despondency of those sunk eyes, Of friends or kindred, dead, or far away;

Where once, had he thus met her by surprise, And such as Zelica had on that day

He would have seen himself, too happy boy, He left her--when, with heart too full to speak, Reflected in a thousand lights of joy ; He took away her last warm tears upon his cheek. And then the place, that bright unholy place,

Where vice lay hid beneath each winning grace We should do injustice to our readers, And charm of luxury, as the viper weaves as well as to our author, were we to at. Its wily covering of sweet balsam leases; teinpt to give a scene, of such surpassing All struck upon bis heart, sudden and cold interest, in any other than his own power

As death itself; it needs not to be told

No, no he sees it all, plain as the brand ful language.

Of burning shame can mark-whate'er the hand, A strange emotion stirs within him-more That could from heav'n and him such brightness Than mere compassion ever wak'd before;

sever, Unconsciously he opes his arms, while she 'Tis done to heav'n and him she's lost for ever. Springs forward, as with life's last energy. It was a dreadful moment; not the tears, But, swooning in that one convulsive bound, The lingering lasting ruisery of years Sinks ere she reach his arms, upon the ground; Could match that ininute's anguish ; all the worst Her veil falls off-- her faint hands clasp his knees, Of sorrow's elements in that dark burst 'Tis she herself! 'tis Zelica he sees!

Broke o'er his soul, and with one crash of fate, But, ah, so pale, so chang'd, none but a lover Laid the whole hopes of his life desolate! Could in that wreck of beauty's shrine discover

“Oh! curse me not," she cried, as wild be toss'd The once ador'd divinity ! e'en he

His desperate hand tow'rds heav'n—" though I Stood for some moments mute, and doubtingly

am lost, Put back the ringlets from her brow, and gaz'd

" Think not that guilt, that falsehood made me Upon those lids, where once such lustre blaz'd,

fall, Ere he could think she was indeed bis own,

“ No, no- 'twas grief, 'twas madness did it all! Own darling maid, whom he so long had known

“ Nay, doubt ine not-though all thy love hata In joy and sorrow, beautiful in both ;.

ceas'd Who, e'en when grief was heaviest--when loth

"I know it hath-yet, yet believe at least, He left her for the wars in that worst hour

“ That every spark of reason's light inust be Sat in her sorrow like the sweet night-flower,

“ Quench'd in this brain, ere I could stray fron When darkness bring its weeping glories out,

thee! And spreads its sighs like frankincense about !

“ They told me thou wert dead--why, Azim, why “Look up, my Zelica-one moment show “ Did we not, both of us, that instant die. “ Those gentle eyes to me, that may know “ When we were parted? oh! could'st thou but “ Thy life, thy loveliness is not all gone.

know " But there, at least, shines as it ever shone.

“With what a deep devotedness of wo " Come, look upon thy Azim--one dear glance, “I wept thy absence, o'er and o'er again “ Like those of oid, were heav'n ! whatever “ Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew chance

pain, “ Hath brought thee here, oh ! 'twas a blessed " And memory, like a drop that night and day, one!

“ Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away! " There--my sweet lidsthey move--that kiss “ Didst thou but know how pale i sat at home, hath run

My eyes still turn'd the way thou wert to come, " Like the first shoot of life through ercry vein, “ And, all the long, long niyht of hope and tcar, " And now i clasp her, mine, all mine again! « Tny voice and step still sounding in my ear; " Oh the delight-now, in this very hour,

" Oh God! thou would't not wonder that, at last, " When had the whole rich world been in my “ When every hope was all at once o'ercast, power,

"When I heard frightful voices round me say


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" Azim is dead! this wretched brain gave way, “ And plead for me with Heav'n till I can dare " And I became a wreck, at random driven, " To fix my own weak, sinful glances there ; " Without one glimpse of reason or of heaven- « Till the good angels, when they see me cling * All wilt and e'en this quenchless love within “ For ever near thee, pale and sorrowing, “ Turn'd to foul fires to light me into sin ! “ Shall for thy sake pronounce iny soul torgiven, " Thou pitiest me--I knew thou would'st-that " And bid thee take ihy weeping slave to beav'o!

“ Oh yes, I'll fly with thee. " “ Hath nought beneath it half so lorn as J.

Scarce had she said ". The fiend, who lur'd me hither-hist! come These breathless words, when a voice, dcep and " Or thou too, thou art lost, if he should hear


As that of Monker, waking up the Dead, “ Told me such things--oh! with such devilish

From their first sleep- so startling 'twas to both art, “ As would have ruin'd e'en a holier heart

Rung through the casement near, “ Thy oath ! “Of thee, and of that ever-radiant sphere,

thy oath !" " Where bless'd at length, if I but serv'd him At this dreadful voice, and still more here,

dreadful recollection, Zelica is chilled * I should for ever live i

in a moment to the heart. She implores < And drink from those pure eyes eternal light! Azim to provide for his safety, whilst she * Think, think how lost, how madden'd I must be, “ To bope that guilt could lead to God or thee! “ Thou weep'st for me--do, weep-oh! that I tiny, and bursting from his embrace, darts durst,

into the recesses of the Haram. " Kiss off that tear! but no-these lips are curst, The third Canto opens with the note of " Tbey must not touch thee; one divine caress,

warlike preparation. The Khalif ap“One Blessed moment of forgetfulness " I've had within those arms, and that shall li

proaches with an army, to repress the im“ Shrin'd in my soul's deep memory till I die!

pious assumptions of Mokanna. The “ The last of joy's last relics here below, Prophet is not slow in preparing to sus“ The one sweet drop, in all this waste of wo, tain them. A battle ensues, and at the in" My heart has treasur'd from affection's spring, stant that fortune is inclining towards the “ To soothe and cool its deadly withering?

side of the impostor, Azim dashes into the " But thou--yes, thou must go-for ever go! “This place is not for thee--for thee! oh no, field and turns the scale against him. Mo• Did (but tell thee hali, thy tortur'd brain kanna flies to the fortress of Neksheb, and ** Would burn like mine, and mine go will again! of all his Haram, takes with him only the "Enough, that Guilt reigns here--that bearts, faded Zelica, but

once good, * Now tainted, chill'd and broken, are his food.

Not for love-the deepest Damn'd must be "Enough, that we are parted that there rolls

Touch'd with heav'n's glory, ere such fiends as he * A flood of headlong fate between our souls,

Can feel one glimpse of love's divinity! .. Whose darkness severs me as wide from thee

But no, she is his victim : there lie all

Her charms for him--charms that can never pall, “ As hell from heav'n to all eternity!" * Zelica! Zelica !!” the youth exclaim'd,

As long as hell within his heart can stir, In all the tortures of a mind intlam'd

Or one faint trace of heaven is left in her.

To work an angel's ruin, to behold Almost to madness-" by that sacred Hearen,

As white a page as Virtue e'er enrollid • Where yet, if prayʻrs can move, thou'lt be for.

Blachen beneath his touch, inte a scroll given, “ As thou art bere-- here, in this writhing heart,

Of damning sins, seal'd with a burning soul * All sinful wild and ruin'd as thou art !

This is his triumph ; this is the joy accurst, • By the remembrance of our once pure love,

That ranks himn among demons all but first! .. Which, like a church-yard light, still burns

This gives the victim, that before him lies

Blighted and lost, a glory in his eyes, above

A light like that with which hell-fire illumes, “ The grave of our lost souls—which guilt in thee ** Cannot extinguish, nor despair in me!

The ghastly, writhing wretch whom it consumes ! •. I do conjure, implore thee to fly hence

Here he awaits the attack of the con" If thou bast yet one spark of innocence, queror, and continues to practise his sor“ Fly with me from this place "

ceries in making mock moons rise out of "With thee! oh bliss, “ 'Tis worth whole years of torment to hear this.

a well. By this means, he keeps alive “ What ! take the lost one with thee? let her rove

the faith and hopes of his followers, not“ By thy dear side, as in those days of love, withstanding they are besieged by innu• When we were both so happy, both so pure- merable foes, and are reduced to the last 6. Too heavenly dream ! if there's on earth a cure extremity. But finding, at length, that he « For the sunk heart, 'tis this day after day 4. To be the blest companion of thy way ;

must succumb to fate, he determines to * To hear thy angel eloquence- to see

make a memorable exit. He, according“ Those virtuous eyes for ever turn'd on me;

ly, reproaches bis comrades for their little " And in their light re-chasten'd silently, faith, and invites them to a banquet, at “ Like the stain'd web that whitens in the sun, which he promises to reveal to them the “ Grow pure by being purely shone upon ! ineffable glories of his brow! At the close 4 And thou wilt pray for me I know thou wilt« At the dim vesper hour, when thoughts of guilt

of this banquet, Zelica is summoned to "Come beaviest o'er the heart, thou'lt lift thine

appear by a menial, who turns black in eyes,

the face and falls dead as he is delivering As Full of sweet tears unto the darkening skies, his message.

She enters; Holy Alla, what a sight

“Give him but halt this venom in thy liss, Was there before her! By the glimmering light “And i'li to give my huugiity jira'm bliss ! Of the pale dawn, mix'd with the fire of brands “ For mel too must die- but not likimo thaye That round lay burning, dropp'd from lifeless « Vile, rankling things, to fester in the lyricze; hands,

" To have this brow in tuitian trienip! OW!!, She saw the board, in splendid mockery spread, “ With all death's grine'ss addeii to its own, Rich censers breathing, garlands overhead, “ And rot to dust beneath the taunting "yes The urns, the cups, from which they late had “Of slaves, exclaiming There his Couship lies!" quafl'd,

“No-cursed race---since first my soul Urew All gold and gems, but--what had been the

breath, draught?

“ They've been my dupes, and shall be, e'en ia Oh! who need ask, that saw those livid guests,

death. With their swoll'n heads sunk blackening on their « Thou see'st von cistem in the shade'tis fillid breasts,

“With burning diucs, for this last hour distill'd; Or looking pale to hear'n with glassy glare,

There will i plunge me in that liquid tlaineAs if they sought, but saw no mercy there ; “ Fit bath to lave a dying Prophet's liaineAs if they fell, though poison rack'd them through, “ There perish, all-ere pulse of thine shail failRemorse the deadlier torment of the two!

“. Nor leave one limb to tell mankind the tale. While some, the bravest, hardiest in the train,

"So shall niy votaries, wherero'er they rare, Of their false Chief, who on the battle-plain “ Proclain that Heav'n took back the Saint it Would have met death with transport by his side,

gave; Here mute and helpless gasp'd; but as they died,

" That I've but vanish'd from this earth a while, Look'd horrible vengeance with their eyes' last "To coine again, with brighi, unsi.rouded smile! strain,

“ So shali they build ine altars in their zeal, And clench'd the slackening hand at him in vain. Where knaves shall minister, and fools shall Dreadful it was to see the ghastly stare,

kneci; The stony look of horror and despair,

" Where Faith may mutter o'er her mystic spell, Which sone of these expiring victims cast

“ Written in blood--and bigotry may swell Upon their soul's torinenior to the last;

“The sail he spreads for beav li with blasts from Upon that mocking Fiend, whose Veil now rais'd,

hell ! Show'd thein, as in death's agony they gaz'd, “ So shall my banner, through long ages, be Not the long promis'd light, the brow, whose “ The rallying sigu of fraud and anarchy; beaning

“Kings vei unborn shall rue Nokinna's name, Was to come forth. all conquering all redeeming. And, though I die, my Spirit, stil te same, But features horribler than Hell per trac'd “ Shall walk abroad in all the stormy strife, On its own brood : 10 Demon of the Waste, “ And guilt, and blood, that wereits bliss in life! No church-yard Ghole, caught lingeriag in the “But, hark! their battering engine shakes the light

wallOf the bless'd sun, e'er blasted human sight " Why, let it shake-thus I can brave them all. With lineaments so foul, so fierce as those “No trace of me shail greet them when they Th' Impostor now, in grinning mockery shows :

come, “ There, ye wise Saints, behold your Light, your “And I can trust thy faith, for--thon'll be dumb. Star;

" Now, mark how readily a wretch like me, " Ye would be dupes and victions, and ye are, " In one bold plunge, commences Deity!" 3* Is it enough? or must I, wbile a thrill

He sprung and sunk, as the last words were “ Lives in your sapient bosoins, cheat you still?

Said Swear that the burung death ye ice within Quick clos ū the burning waters o'er his head, " Is but the trance, wide which hear'u's joys be. And Zelica was left-within the ring . gin;

Of those wide walls the only living using ; • That this foul visage, foul as e'er disgrac'd “E'en monstrous mani, is-afier God's own taste, The beleaguerers now effect a breach " And thai-but see! ere I hare half-way said in the wall, and as they are pausing, ap“ My greetings through, th' uncourteous souls prehensive of some stratagem from the are fled.

solitude and silence that reign within, • Farewell, sweet spirits ! not in vain ye die, “ If Ellis loves you half so well as l.

Zelica appears wrapt in the Silver Veil. " Ha, my young bride ! 'us well; take thou thy At the sight of this hateful badge, Azim Seat ;

springs forward, and Zelica throws her“ Nay, corne ; no shuddering ; did'st thou never self upon his spear, happy in this disguise, meet

to have obtained death at his hand. “ The Dead before ? they grac'd our wedding, weet ;

Time fleeted-years on years had pass'd away, " And these, my guests, to night have brimm'd And few of those who, on that mournful day, so true

Had stood, with pity in their eyes, to see “ Their parting cups, that thou shalt pledge one The maiden's death, and the youth's agony, too.

Were living still-when, by a rustic grave * But-how is this? all empty? all drunk up? Beside the swift Amou's transparent wave, “ Hot lips have been before thee in the cup, An aged man, who had grown aged there “ Young bride, yet stay-une precious drop re. By that long grave, morning and night in prayer, mains :

For the last time kuelt down--and, thougb the “ Enough to warm a gentle Priestess' veins ;

shade “ Here, drink-and should thy lover's conquer Of death bung darkening over him, there play'd ing arm

A gleam of rapture on his eye and cheek, " Speed hither, ere thy lip lose all its charms, That brighteu'd even Death-like the last streak

Of intense glory on the horizon's brim,

in the bitterness of his spirit, cursing the When night o'er all the rest bangs chill and dim, niggardliness of nature, that had curHis soul had seen a vision while he slept

tailed' him of his fair proportion,'' cheatShe, for wbose spirit he had pray'd and wept; So many years, had come to him, all drest

ed' him ‘of feature,' and sent him into the lo angel smiles, and told himn she was blest! world, before his time,' deformed,'' unFor this the old man breath'd his thanks and died. finish'd,' and scarce half made up :'And there upon the banks of that lov'd lide,

we acknowledge, that he can have little He and his Zelica sleep side by side.

delight in the weak, piping time of We have now despatched the Veiled peace,' and are hardly startled at his reProphet of Khorassan.' But before we solution, when he declares his purpose, take up the three remaining poems "And therefore-since I cannot be a lover, in this volume, we will offer a few re. To entertain these fair well spoken days, marks on the one just concluded. In the I ain determined to prove a villain.' very cursory notice of Lalla Rookh in It was injuries, which none but a feelour last number, we observed of the ing heart would have treasured up, that poems which it contains, that they present curdled the milk of human kindness,' in * great and glaring faults, and fewer, but the breast of Bethlem Gabor. The little not less obvious beauties. The extracts misanthropical Dwarf, in the Tales of which we have already made afford a fair my Landlord,' did not imbibe his implaproportion of both. . All the defects of cable hatred of mankind from the survey the story are justly chargeable upon Mr. of his own dimensions. His moroseness Moore, since he had no restriction in and distrust were but the retraction of bis range, through the records of fact, or the bruised fibres of a sympathy, that the fields of fancy. It was his own folly would have encircled his species with its that prompted him to rake up the foul tendrils. But in the odious impostor deeds of a detestable monster, from the of Khorassan, we read only the naked obscurity to which they had been desery- lineaments of a fiend. It is in vain to say edly consigned. Nor can we discover that Mr. Moore is sufficiently fortified by for what object he has dragged this history. If this were the case, it would misbegotten knave' into the light of day. not extenuate the radical absurdity of renHe does not appear to intend the inculca- dering such a demon, if not the hero, at tion of any moral lesson, and surely, he least the most prominent character in his cannot believe that a picture, of such dia- piece. No man, in his senses, would bolical depravity and bug-bear deformity, think of making the enormities of Nero, will awaken in the beholder any pleasura- Caligula, or Heliogabalus, the subject of ble emotion. We have never heard be an epopee. Besides, Mr. Moore was unfore of such an instance of gratuitous ma- der no obligation to found his plot on any lignity, as is imputed to Al Mokanna. historical incident. It is, to be sure, reBorn in an humble station of life, person- quired that an epic should relate to known al beauty was in no degree essential to characters and events, but these metri. enable him fully to participate in all its cal romances do not come under that enjoyments. The accidents of war, if honourable denomination. They are a they had diminished his original comeli- very humble kind of compositions—in our ness, had marked him with honourable estimation, much below the novel both in scars, which a true soldier would never dignity and utility, and equally licensed exchange for the limbs or features of an to indulge in fiction. Novels, if not a Apollo. He had nothing with which to new class of works of fancy, are a wonreproach fortune. He lived in her smiles derful improvement upon the ancient roto the very close of his career. In the mances. These last were, though not lineage and circumstances of Richard the absolutely the invention, the chief ornaThird, we find equally a motive for his ment of the dark ages, and appeared ambition and his envy. The turbulence first in verse. The metrical romances of the times had accustomed men to re- preceded even the legends of Arthur, and gard the crown as a prize, which it was the Knights of the Round Table, and of lawful to covet, and for which it might Charlemagne and his Paladins. The become politic to contend. The chival- Scandinavian nations had their scalds, the rous spirit of the age rendered personal British their bards, and the French their accomplishments, and the address and troubadours and trouveurs. Their legerprowess, that qualified for the ball and the dary rhymes were afterwards reduced tournament, not merely feathers in the to prose, and formed the famous romans, cap of youth,' but indispensable requisites which Cervantes so liberally consigned to to popularity and power. Richard could the flames. It were a pleasant speculanot enter these lists. When we hear him tion to imagine the fate of most of the

VOL. 1. yo. v.

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productions of our cotemporary poets, the operation of powerful external causes, were a modern library submitted to the the developement of which produces a tribunal that held an inquisition on that feeling of awe approaching to sublimity. of Don Quixotte.

Byron has given a wider scope to these It appears to us that in reviving the ex- mysterious metaphysics, and has drawn ploded taste of the middle ages we are out delineations of the human heart that relapsing into barbarism. Those prodigies presentitinan aspect of the highestinterest, which were adapted to rouse the curiosi- though of the most painful contemplation. ty and excite the astonishment of the ig. From their very nature, however, it is as norant of that period, are ill suited to impossible as it is undesirable, long to please refined and discriminating readers. keep up the tone of these unnatural enerPaintings may delight children merely by gies. the vividness of their colours ; connois. The gradual corruption of taste is seurs mark the design, and observe the equally seen in the degradation of the distribution and the shading. English drama. Shakespeare, Otway, Congreve, poetry has been heretofore celebrated for Rowe, Farquhar, Goldsmith, Sheridan, its philosophical character. It has abound- and Cumberland, have been driven off the ed more in profound moral reflections boards by the Titanian progeny of the than in surprising incident,-more in ma- melo-drame. The stage has been contural touches than in factitious sentiment. verted into a circus, or an arena. Wit, It has had generally a cast of thoughtful- sentiment, and song, have been supplantness, and frequently of melancholy. Ma- ed by necromancy, fustian, and fanfarondame de Stael considers Homer and Os- nude. sian as the models of two different styles Mr. Moore has, indeed, only suffered of poetry. The Eastern is addressed to himself to be borne along by the downthe imagination, the Northern comes ward current. He has been persuaded to home to the understanding and the heart. barter his reversionary reputation for She avows her preference for the latter. three Thousand guineas, and a balance of How ill do the quotidian productions of ephemeral notoriety. It was a pitiful our presses warrant this commendation. compromise. Those who know how to They have indeed their full proportion of value the meed of .immortal fame,' will sadness, but we shall in vain search for

- nerer choose, moral truth or purpose. Extravagance of Gold for the object vf a generous muse.' plot, language, and passion, is, at this moment, the only passport to circulation. Ti he has been dazzled by the splenMilton is no longer read, -it may be be- did errors of a great but erratie cause he has adorned Lucifer with too genius, it is an excusable weakness, many good qualities for a fashionable though not a les fatal mistake. It is a hero. It is a long time since some wise. debasement of mind to become the acre discovered that Pope was no poet,- implicit disciple of any school ; and all and one Mr. Leigh Hunt has lately found who are emulous of lasting renown will out that he knew nothing of versifica- avoid Byronism in poetry, as they would tion. Young, Cowper, Thomson, Grav, Pyrrhonism in ethics. But as Mr. Moore Collins, &c. are laid on the shelf; and the is a neophyte, we hope he may yet be rerising generation are not likely to know claimed. that we have any thing better in our li- It is no more than just, however, as we terature than the verses of Scoti, Byron, have charged on Mr. Moore all the faults Hunt, Coleridge and Moore. Even the of the story which he has copied, to give best of our living bards have fallen into him full credit for the characters and pasneglect. Campbell, Southey, (we mean sages which he has invented or embelthe author of Roderick.) and Rovers are lished. Azim is of his own creation ; thrown into the shade. We are sorry and though the concubine of history sugthat the last of these gentlemen should gested his Zelica, he has contrived to lend his name so freely to literary works attach a powerful interest to their unhapwhich his good sense must condemn. It py fate. were better to leave Lord Byron and his The description of their youthful lores, Iriends to the benefits of their system of the cruel anxiety his absence caused mutual dedication. Still we do not mean to Zelica,--the blasting influence of the to deny to some of these writers an ex- rumour of his death upon her peace and traordinary degree of merit, in their way. reason,--his fond hopes and unsuspecting Scott first brought into view a train of faith,—and the exquisite misery of their corro led passions, compounded of op- interview in the palace of the Prophet,posite moral elements, and stimulated by all these circumstances of cumulative

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