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shippers have at last been driven to beams upon her soul in the midst of take refuge in an inaccessible rock his devoted warriors, in all the glory hanging over the sea, the last solitary of heroism and piety. She informs link of that stupendous chain of moun- him that he is betrayed. In all the tains stretching down from the Caspi- agony of hopeless love, he sends her, an. From this den they hold out de- with a chosen guard, in a skiff, away fiance to the Emir al Hassan; and their from danger-he sounds the horn of chief, Hafed, the last hope of Iran, is destiny-the Arabs storm the ravine clothed, in the imagination of the ter that leads to the cliff-after a direful rified Mahommedans, with all the at- contest, they prevail-Hafed and one tributes of an infernal spirit. Among bosom friend alone survive, and drag his own followers, he is adored for his their wounded bodies to the sacred beauty, his valour, his patriotism, and pyre—the Chief lays his brother, who his piety. The sacred fire is kept has just fallen down dead, on the pile constantly kindled on the summit of lights it with the consecrated brand, the cliff-all hope of preserving it from
“ And with a smile extinction is finally gone--but Hafed of triumph, vaulting on the Pile, and his Ghebers have sworn to perish In that last effort, ere the fires in its flames, rather than submit to Have harmed one glorious limb-expires." the Arabian yoke. A horn is hung over the battlements; and when it is heard food with its melancholy radiance
The death-pile illuminates rock and pealing through the solitary cliffs, it and Hinda, leaning in ghastly agonies is to be the signal of their voluntary doom, and they are then to be minagainst the mast of the skift, beholds gled with the holy and symbolical ele the tall shadowy figure of Hafed re
vealed before the burning pyre; and, ment of their worship. The love story, shrieking out
, " 'tis he!" and springwhich is of a wild and romantic cha- ing as if to reach the blaze on which racter, is in some measure instrument- her dying looks are fixed, sinks into al in the final catastrophe. Hafed, one dark midnight, has scaled a solitary tower, in which he believes the “ Deep deep, where never care or pain Emir sleeps, with the purpose, we
Shall reach her innocent heart again !” suppose, of putting him to death ; And here, unquestionably, the poem though we are afterwards inconsiste has come to a natural conclusion. ently enough told, that had he found But Mr Moore is not of that opinion, his enemy, he would have spared his and thinks proper to make a Peri sing, life. He there finds Hinda, the young, “ beneath the dark sea," a farewell artless, innocent, and beautiful Ara- dirge to “ Araby's daughter.” This bian maid—whose heart, soul, and dirge is of course filled with every image senses, are at once fascinated by the with which a Peri living beneath the adventurous stranger. As yet she dark sea may be supposed conversant ; knows not whence he comes, whither and we never recollect to have seen so he goes, to what country he belongs. laborious and cold a piece of mere inAt last he tells her the fatal truth, that genuity, immediately, succeeding a he is a Gheber, and that on earth their catastrophe, which, though perhaps destinies must be severed. The Emir, somewbat extravagant and unnatural, meanwhile, ignorant of these nocturn is both passionately conceived and exnal meetings, laments the decay of his pressed. The mind is left satisfied daughter's health and beauty, and with the completion of their destiny ; sends her in a pinnace to breathe the theirs was the real and living struggle air of her native Araby. He first com of high passions, rendered higher by municates to her his intention of that misfortune ; and that heart-rending, night storming, by surprise, the for- life-destroying, necessity in which they tress of the Fire-Worshippers, the se were inextricably bound and delivered cret access to which has been betrayed up to death, beyond all power of savto him by a captive traitor. The pin- ing intervention, is that which gives nace, in a sudden storm, runs foul of to the poem all its human interest, a war bark of Hafed, and is captured. and of which the pervading sense Hinda then discovers that her unknown ought not to have been dispelled from lover is in truth that terrific being our souls by the warblings of any imwhom she had been taught to fear, aginary creature, but should have been detest, and abhor ; but who now left to deepen and increase, -to fade or
die away in the solitary darkness of And thought some spirit of the air reflection.
(For what could waft a mortal there ?) We shall now endeavour, by ex
Was pausing on his moonlight way tracts, to give our readers some idea This fancy ne'er hath left her mind ;
To listen to her lonely lay! of the execution of this fine Foem,
And though, when terror's swoon had the subject of which, and the story,
past, is, we hope, clearly enough explained She saw a youth of mortal kind, by the foregoing analysis.
Before her in obeisance cast,We are thus introduced to Hinda, Yet often since, when he has spoken, the heroine of the tale, and we think Strange, awful words,and gleams have that, with the exception of the image
broken of the serpent gazing on the emerald, From his dark eyes, too bright to bear,
Oh! she hath fear'd her soul was given which, in good truth, is but a sorry
To some unhallowed child of air, conceit, the description is most beauti
Some erring Spirit cast from heaven, ful.
Like those angelic youths of old, “ Light as the angel shapes that bless
Who burned for maids of mortal mould, An infant's dream, yet not the less
Bewilder'd left the glorious skies, Rich in all woman's loveliness ;
And lost their heaven for woman's eyes ! With eyes so pure, that from their ray
Fond girl! nor fiend, nor angel he, Dark Vice would turn abash'd away,
Who woos thy young simplicity ; Blinded like serpents, when they gaze
But one of earth's impassioned sons, Upon the emerald's virgin blaze !
As warm in love, as fierce in ire, Yet, fill’d with all youth's sweet desires,
As the best heart whose current runs Mingling the meek and vestal fires
Full of the Day-God's living fire !” Of other worlds with all the bliss,
There is infinite spirit, freedom, The fond, weak tenderness of this !
strength, and energy, in that part of A soul too, more than half divine, Where, through some shades of earthly lover to be a Gheber,-many fine and
the poem where Hinda discovers her feeling,
delicate touches of genuine pathos, Religion's soften'd glories shine,
and Like light through summer foliage steal
many bursts of uncontrollable ing,
passion. As for example: Shedding a glow of such mild hue,
- Hold, hold-thy words are So warm and yet so shadowy too,
death As makes the very darkness there
The stranger cried, as wild he flung More beautiful than light elsewhere !” His mantle back, and show'd beneath
The Gheber belt that round him clungA striking picture is conveyed in
• Here, maiden, look-weep_blush to see the following six lines, of Hinda lis
All that thy sire abhors in me! tening the approach of her lover's Yes-1 am of that impious race, skift, from her airy tower :
Those Slaves of Fire, who, morn and “ Ev'n now thou seest the flashing spray,
Hail their Creator's dwelling-place
Among the living lights of heaven !
TO IRAN and to vengeance true,
To desolate our shrines of flame,
And swear, before God's burning eye, Her first interview with her lover,
To break our country's chains, or die ! and all her bewildering emotions, are
Thy bigot sire-nay, tremble not thus described :
He, who gave birth to those dear eyes, - She loves—but knows not whom she loves, With me is sacred as the spot Nor what his race, nor whence he came ; From which our fires of worship rise ! Like one who meets, in Indian groves, But know-'twas he I sought that night,
Some beauteous bird, without a name, When, from my watch-boat on the sea, Brought by the last ambrosial breeze I caught this turret's glimmering light, From isles in th' undiscover'd seas,
And up the rude rocks desperately To shew his plumage for a day
Rush'd to my prey-thou know'st the rest To wondering eyes, and wing away ! I climb’d the gory vulture's nest, Will he thus fy-her nameless lover ? And found a trembling dove within ;Alla forbid ! 'twas by a moon
Thine, thine the victory-thine the sinAs fair as this, while singing over
If Love has made one thought his own, Some ditty to her soft Kanoon,
That vengeance claims first-last-alone ! Alone, at this same witching hour,
Oh ! had we never, never met, She first beheld his radiant eyes
Or could this heart ev'n now forget Gleam through the lattice of the bower, How link'd, how bless'd we might have been,
Where nightly now they mix their sighs ; Had fate not frown'd so dark between !
Hadst thou been born a Persian maid, His only talisman, the sword,
In neighbouring valleys had we dwelt, His only spell.word, Liberty ! Through the same fields in childhood play'd, One of that ancient hero line,
At the same kindling altar knelt, Along whose glorious current shine
As Lebanon's small mountain flood
'Twas not for him to crouch the knee I heard the voice of days gone by,
Tamely to Moslem tyranny ; And saw in every smile of thine
"Twas not for him, whose soul was cast Returning hours of glory shine!
In the bright mould of ages past, While the wrong'd Spirit of our Land Whose melancholy spirit, fed Liv'd, look'd, and spoke her wrongs With all the glories of the dead, through thee,
Though fram'd for Iran's happiest years, God! who could then this sword withstand ?
Was born among her chains and tears ! Its very flash were victory!
'Twas not for him to swell the crowd But now-estrang'd, divorc'd for ever, Of slavish heads, that shrinking bowed Far as the grasp of Fate can sever ;
Before the Moslem as he pass'd, Our only ties what love has wove, Like shrubs beneath the poison-blastFaith, friends, and country, sunder'd No-far he fled_indignant filed
The pageant of his country's shame; And then, then only, true to love,
While every tear her children shed When false to all that's dear beside !
Fell on his soul like drops of flame ; Thy father, IRAN's deadliest foem
And as a lover hails the dawn Thyself, perhaps, ev'n now but no Of a first smile, so welcom'd he Hate never look'd so lovely yet!
The sparkle of the first sword drawn
For Vengeance and for Liberty!"
The description of the Hold of the When other eyes shall see, unmoved,
Ghebers is vivid and picturesque: Her widows mourn, her warriors fall, Around its base the bare rocks stood, Thou'lt think how well one Gheber lov'd,
Like naked giants, in the flood, And for his sake thou'lt weep for all ! As if to guard the Gulf across ;But look
While on its peak that brav'd the sky, With sudden start he turn’d A ruin'd temple tower'd, so high, And pointed to the distant wave,
That oft the sleeping albatross While lights, like charnel meteors, burn'd Struck the wild ruins with her wing,
Bluely, as o'er some seaman's grave; And from her cloud-rock'd slumbering And fiery darts, at intervals,
Started—to find man's dwelling there
Beneath, terrific caverns gave
And such the strange mysterious din Farewell-sweet life! thou cling'st in vain At times throughout those caverns roll'd, Now-vengeance !-I am thine again.' And such the fearful wonders told Fiercely he broke away, nor stopp'd, Of restless sprites imprison'd there, Nor look’d—but from the lattice dropp'd That bold were Moslem, who would dare, Down ’mid the pointed crags beneath, At twilight hour, to steer his skiff As if he fied from love to death.
Beneath the Cheber's lonely cliff. While pale and mute young HINDA stood, On the land side, those towers sublime, Nor mov'd, till in the silent flood
That seem'd above the grasp of Time, A momentary plunge below
Were sever'd from the haunts of men Startled her from her trance of wo.”
By a wide, deep, and wizard glen,
So fathomless, so full of gloom, The length of these extracts prevents No eye could pierce the void between ; us from quoting the whole description It seem'd a place where Gholes might come of the hero Hafed ; but the following With their foul banquets from the tomb, lines will shew that he was worthy to
And in its caverns feed unseen. be the lover of Hinda, and the chief Like distant thunder from below, of the Fire-Worshippers :
The sound of many torrents came;
Too deep for eye or ear to know Such were the tales that won belief,
If 'twere the sea's imprison'd flow, And such the colouring fancy gave
Or floods of ever-restless flame. To a young, warm, and dauntless Chief, -- For each ravine, each rocky spire,
One who, no more than mortal brave, Of that vast mountain stood on fire ; Fought for the land his soul ador'd, And though for ever past the days,
For happy homes and altars free, When God was worshipped in the blaze
That from its lofty altar shone,
But the rude litter, roughly spread Though fled the priests, the votaries gone, With war-cloaks, is her homely bed, Still did the mighty flame burn on
And shawl and sash, on javelins hung Through chance and change, through good For awning, o'er her head are flung. and ill,
Shuddering she look'd around-there lay Like its own God's eternal will,
A group of warriors in the sun Deep, constant, bright, unquenchable !" Resting their limbs, as for that day We shall conclude our extracts with
Their ministry of death were done. the following exquisite description of Lost in unconscious reverie ;
Some gazing on the drowsy sea, a calm after a storm, and of Hinda And some, who seem'd but ill to brook awaking from a swoon of terror on That sluggish calm, with many a look board of the war-bark of Hafed ; than To the slack sail impatient cast, which last it is difficult to conceive any As loose it flagg'd before the mast.” thing of the kind making a nearer ap On looking back to our extracts, we proach to the definite distinctness of feel that they give a very inadequate the sister-art of painting.
idea of the high and varied excellence “ How calm, how beautiful comes on of Mr Moore's poetry. But from a The stilly hour, when storms are gone ! poem of four long cantos, how is it When warring winds have died away, possible to give any but short and imAnd clouds, beneath the glancing ray, perfect specimens? Yet though our Melt off, and leave the land and sea
readers may not be able, from these Sleeping in bright tranquillity,Fresh as if day again were born,
few passages, to judge of the design Again upon the lap of morn!
and execution of the whole poem, they When the light blossoms, rudely torn
will at least discover in them the hand And scatter'd at the whirlwind's will, of a master, -as a judge of painting Hang floating in the pure air, still, could, from the smallest shred of a Filling it all with precious balm,
picture, decide on the skill and genius In gratitude for this sweet calm ;
of the artist, though he saw only a bit And every drop the thunder-showers
of colouring, and the contour of a single Have left upon the grass and flowers
limb. For our own parts, we are of Sparkles, as 'twere that lightning gem Whose liquid flame is born of them!
opinion, that if Mr Moore had written When, 'stead of one unchanging breeze, nothing but the Fire-Worshippers, he There blow a thousand gentle airs,
would have stood in the first rank of And each a different perfume bears, living poets. The subject is a fine one,
As if the loveliest plants and trees and admirably suited to call forth Had vassal breezes of their own,
the display of his peculiar feelings and To watch and wait on them alone,
faculties. His ardent and fiery love of And waft no other breath than theirs !
Liberty,—his impassioned patriotism, When the blue waters rise and fall, In sleepy sunshine mantling all ;
at times assuming the loftiest form of And even that swell the tempest leaves
which that virtue is susceptible, and Is like the full and silent heaves
at others bordering upon a vague and Of lovers' hearts, when newly blest objectless enthusiasm, -his admiration Too newly to be quite at rest !
of what may be called the virtues of Such was the golden hour that broke his native land, -valour, courage, geUpon the world when Hinda 'woke
nerosity, love, and religion ; an admiFrom her long trance, and heard around
ration which occasionally induces him No motion but the waters' sound
to sympathise with illegitimate or exRippling against the vessel's side, As slow it mounted o'er the tide.
travagant exercises of such emotions, But where is she ?-her eyes are dark,
-his keen and exquisite perception of Are wilder'd still—is this the bark,
the striking, the startling, and the picThe same, that from Harmosia's bay turesque, in incident and situation,Bore her at morn,—whose bloody way his wonderful command of a rich poThe sea-dog tracks ?-No! strange and new etical phraseology, sometimes eminentIs all that meets her wondering view. ly and beautifully happy, and not unUpon a galliot's deck she lies,
frequently overlaid with too highlyBeneath no rich pavilion's shade,
coloured ornament and decoration, No plumes to fan her sleeping eyes, Nor jasmine on her pillow laid.
his flowing, rapid, and unobstructed
versification, now gliding like a smooth *“ A precious stone of the Indies, called and majestic river, and now like a by the ancients Ceraunium, because it was
mountain-stream dallying with the supposed to be found in places where thun- rocks, which rather seem to hasten der had fallen,” &c.
than impede its course ;-all these
powers and qualifications are exhibited enemy of his country, his religion, and in their utmost perfection, throughout his God. Yet the divine inspiration, the progress of a wild and romantic breathed from innocence and beauty, tale, in which we are hurried on from has mingled with his existence; and one danger to another,--from peril to though there can be no union on earth peril, --from adventure to adventure, between them, he wildly cherishes and from hope into sudden despair,--from clings to her image,-shews his devothe exaltation of joy into the prostra- tion, his love, and his gratitude, even tion of misery,--from all the bright after the fatal horn has sounded unto delusions and visionary delights of love death,and abandons her in that exdreaming on the bosom of happiness, tremity, only because he must not into the black, real, and substantial abandon the holy cause of liberty and horrors of irremediable desolation, truth. from youth and enjoyment, untamed And here we may remark, that our and aspiring, into anguish, destiny, full and perfect sympathy goes with and death.
the illustrious Gheber, both in the obIndeed, to us the great excellence of jects to which he is devoted, and the this poem is in the strength of attach- feelings with which that devotion is ment,--the illimitable power of pas- displayed. His is no cause of doubtful sion, ---displayed in the character and right-of equivocal justice. He is not conduct of Hinda and Hafed,-feel- a rebel dignified with the name of paings different in their object, in minds triot, nor a wild enthusiast fighting in so differently constituted as theirs, but support of an absurd or wicked faith. equal in the degree of their intensity. He is the last of a host of heroes, who From the first moment that we behold perish in defence of their country's inHinda, we behold her innocent, pure, dependence ;-the last of an enlightand spotless ; but her heart, her soul, ened priesthood, we may say, who her senses, her fancy, and her imagi- wished to preserve the sanctity of their nation, all occupied with one glorious own lofty persuasion against
à creed and delightful vision that forever of lust, and hate, and crime.” The haunts, disturbs, and blesses,—which feelings, therefore, which he acts upon has, in spite of herself, overcome and are universal, and free from all party subdued, what was formerly the ruling taint,--a vice which, we cannot help emotion of her nature, filial affection, thinking, infects several of Mr Moore's and which at last shakes the foun- shorter poems, and mars their emidation even of the religious faith in nent beauty. Perhaps there are a few which she had been brought up from passages of general declamation, even a child, and forces her to love, admire, in this poem, coloured by what some and believe that creed, of which there may think party rather than natural had been instilled into her mind the feelings; but they are of rare occurbitterest abhorrence,-till she sees no rence, and may easily be forgiven to a thing on earth or in heaven but in poet who belongs to a country where relation to her devoted hero. Hafed, pride has long struggled with oppreson the other hand, has had all the sion.----where religion has been given energies of his soul roused by the no as a reason against the diffusion of poblest objects, and the imperious de- litical privileges,--and where valour mand of the highest duties, before he guards liberties which the brave are has seen the divine countenance of not permitted to enjoy. Hinda. His soul is already filled with Another great beauty in the cona patriotism which feels that it cannot duct of this poem is the calm air of restore the liberties of his country, grandeur which invests, from first to though it may still avenge their de- last, the principal agent,--the utter struction,-with a piety that cannot hopelessness of ultimate success, yet keep unextinguished the fires sacred the unshaken resolution of death, and to its God, but hopes to preserve the the unpalpitating principle of a rightshrine on which they burn unpolluted eous vengeance. From the beginning by profane hands, and finally to perish we seem to know that Hafed and his an immolation in the holy element. Ghebers must die,-yet the certainty He feels that with him any love must of their death makes us feel a deeper be a folly, a madness, a crime; but interest in their life: they move for above all, love to the daughter of the ever before us, like men under doom; VOL. I,