Man would be man to all eternity!
So let him Eblis! grant this crowning curse,
But keep him what he is, no Hell were worse.'
'O my lost soul!' exclaim'd the shuddering maid, Whose ears had drunk like poison all he said; Mokanna started — not abash'd, afraid,—
He knew no more of fear than one who dwells
Beneath the tropics knows of icicles!
But, in those dismal words that reach'd his ear,
lost soul!' there was a sound so drear,
So like that voice, among the sinful dead,
In which the legend o'er Hell's Gate is read,
That, new as 'twas from her whom nought could dim
Or sink till now, it startled even him.
'Ha, my fair Priestess ! '—thus, with ready wile, The impostor turn'd to greet her-thou whose smile Hath inspiration in its rosy beam
Beyond the 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 heaven thou preachest or the heaven thou art!
What should I be without thee? without thee
How dull were power, how joyless victory!
Though borne by angels, if that smile of thine
Bless'd not my banner, 't were but half divine.
But why so mournful, child? those eyes, that shone
All life last night — what! —is their glory gone?
Come, come - this morn's fatigue hath made them
They want rekindling: suns themselves would fail,
Did not their comets bring, as I to thee,
From light's own fount supplies of brilliancy.
Thou seest this cup-no juice of earth is here,
But the pure waters of that upper sphere
Whose rills o'er ruby beds and topaz flow,
Catching the gem's bright colour as they go.
Nightly my Genii come and fill these urns
Nay, drink
- in every drop life's essence burns;
'T will make that soul all fire, those eyes all light —
Come, come, I want thy loveliest smiles to-night:-
There is a youth-why start? thou saw'st him then;
Look'd he not nobly? such the godlike men
Thou 'lt have to woo thee in the bowers above;
Though he, I fear, hath thoughts too stern for love,
'Too ruled by that cold enemy of bliss
The world calls virtue-we must conquer this;
Nay, shrink not, pretty sage! 't is not for thee
To scan the mazes of Heaven's mystery:
The steel must pass through fire, ere it can yield
Fit instruments for mighty hands to wield.
This very night I mean to try the art
Of powerful beauty on that warrior's heart.
All that
my Haram boasts of bloom and wit,
Of skill and charms most rare and exquisite,
Shall tempt the boy;-young Mirzala's blue eyes,
Whose sleepy lid like snow on violets lies;
Arouya's cheeks, warm as a spring-day sun,
And lips that, like the seal of Solomon,
Have magic in their pressure; Zeba's lute,
And Lilla's dancing feet, that gleam and shoot
Rapid and white as sea-birds o'er the deep-
All shall combine their witching powers to steep
My convert's spirit in that softening trance,
From which to heaven is but the next advance;
That glowing, yielding fusion of the breast,
On which Religion stamps her image best.
But hear me, Priestess! Tho' each nymph of these
Hath some peculiar, practised power to please,
Some glance or step which, at the mirror tried,
First charms herself, then all the world beside ;
There still wants one, to make the victory sure,
One who in every look joins every lure;
Thro' whom all beauty's beams concentred pass,
Dazzling and warm, as thro' love's burning-glass;
Whose gentle lips persuade without a word,
Whose words, even when unmeaning, are adored,
Like inarticulate breathings from a shrine,
Which our faith takes for granted are divine!
Such is the nymph we want, all warmth and light,
To crown the rich temptations of to-night:
Such the refined enchantress that must be
This hero's vanquisher,—and thou art she!'
With her hands clasp'd, her lips apart and pale, The maid had stood, gazing upon the Veil From which these words, like south winds through a fence
Of Kerzrah flowers, came fill'd with pestilence;
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 listen'd, like a dream Seem'd all he said: nor could her mind, whose beam As yet was weak, penetrate half his scheme. But when, at length, he utter'd, 'Thou art she!' All flash'd at once, and shrieking piteously,
'Oh, not for worlds!' she cried. Great God! to
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
The pander of his guilt—oh, 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
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
'Obey'd! 't is well-yes, I deserve it all; On me, 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 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 ruin'd--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 dishonour'd now; Ne'er tell him how debased, how sunk is she,
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