nings of several stories continued, some of them, to the length of three or four hundred lines, which, after in vain endeavoring to mould them into shape, I threw aside, like the tale of Cambuscan, “left half-told." One of these stories, entitled "The Peri's Daughter,” was meant to relate the loves of a nymph of this aërial extraction with a youth of mortal race, the rightful Prince of Ormuz, who had been, from his infancy, brought up in seclusion on the banks of the river Amou, by an aged guardian named Mohassan. The story opens with the first meeting of these destined lovers, then in their childhood; the Peri having wasted her daughter to this holy retreat, in a bright, enchanted boat, whose first appearance is thus described: : For, down the silvery tide afar, As shines, in heaven, some pilgrim-star, 'It comes, it comes,' young Orian cries, And hiding oft his dazzled eyes Among the flowers on which he lies. Within the boat a baby slept, The feathers of some holy bird, With which, from time to time, she stirr'd The fragrant air, and coolly fann'd The baby's brow, or brush'd away The butterflies that, bright and blue As on the mountains of Malay, And now the fairy boat hath stopp'd Beside the bank, -the nymph has dropp'd Her golden anchor in the stream. A song is sung by the Peri in approaching, of which the following forms a part: My child she is but half divine, His funeral shrine, But he lives again in the Peri's daughter. Fain would I fly from mortal sight To my own sweet bowers of Peristan ; Thy leafiest bed, To rest the wandering Peri's daughter. In another of these inchoate fragments, a proud female saint, named Banou, plays a principal part; and her progress through the streets of Cufa, on the night of a great illuminated festival, I find thus described: : It was a scene of mirth that drew A smile from even the Saint Banou, : But none might see the worldly smile By threads of pearl and golden twist Hung relics of the saints of yore, And scraps of talismanic lore, There are yet two more of these unfinished sketches, one of which extends to a much greater length than I was aware of; and, as far as I can judge from a hasty renewal of my acquaintance with it, is not incapable of being yet turned to account. In only one of these unfinished sketches, the tale of "The Peri's Daughter,” had I yet ventured to invoke that most home-felt of all my inspirations, which has lent to the story of "The Fire-Worshippers" its main attraction and interest. That it was my intention, in the concealed Prince of Ormuz, to shadow out some impersonation of this feeling, I take for granted from the prophetic words sup posed to be addressed to him by his aged guard ian: Bright child of destiny! even now And hail her native Lord in thee! In none of the other fragments do I find any trace of this sort of feeling, either in the subject or the personages of the intended story; and this was the reason, doubtless, though hardly known, at the time, to myself, that, finding my subjects so slow in kindling my own sympathies, I began to despair of their ever touching the hearts of others; and felt often inclined to say: 66 Oh no, I have no voice or hand For such a song in such a land." Had this series of disheartening experiments been carried on much further, I must have thrown aside the work in despair. But at last, fortunately, as it proved, the thought occurred to me of founding a story on the fierce struggle so long maintained between the Ghebers1 or ancient Fire-Worshippers of Persia, and their haughty Moslem masters. From 1 Voltaire, in his tragedy of " Les Guèbres," written with a similar under-current of meaning, was accused of having transformed his Fire-Worshippers into Jansenists. Quelques figuristes," he says, "prétendent que les Guèbres sont les Jansenistes." |