30

That run this course;-Beings, the most divine,
Thus deign through dark mortality to shine.
Such was the Essence that in ADAM dwelt,
To which all Heav'n, except the Proud One, knelt ;'
Such the refin'd Intelligence that glow'd
In Moussa's frame ;—and, thence descending, flow'd
Through many a prophet's breast;-in Issa2 shone,
And in MOHAMMED burn'd; till, hastening on,
(As a bright river that, from fall to fall

In many a maze descending, bright through all,
Finds some fair region where, each labyrinth past,
In one full lake of light it rests at last!)
That Holy Spirit, settling calm and free
From lapse or shadow, centres all in me!"

Again, throughout th' assembly at these words,
Thousands of voices rung; the warrior's swords
Were pointed up to heav'n; a sudden wind
In th' open banners play'd, and from behind
Those Persian hangings, that but ill could screen
The Haram's loveliness, white hands were seen
Waving embroider'd scarves, whose motion gave
A perfume forth;-like those the Houris wave
When beckoning to their bowers the' Immortal Brave.
"But these," pursued the Chief," are truths sublime,

That claim a holier mood and calmer time
Than earth allows us now ;-this sword must first
The darkling prison-house of mankind burst,
Ere Peace can visit them, or Truth let in
Her wakening day-light on a world of sin!
But then, celestial warriors, then, when all
Earth's shrines and thrones before our banner fall;
When the glad slave shall at these feet lay down
His broken chain, the tyrant Lord his crown,
The priest his book, the conqueror his wreath,
And from the lips of Truth one mighty breath
Shall, like a whirlwind, scatter in its breeze
That whole dark pile of human mockeries;—
Then shall the reign of Mind commence on earth,
And starting fresh, as from a second birth,
Man, in the sunshine of the world's new spring,
Shall walk transparent, like some holy thing!
Then, too, your Prophet from his angel brow
Shall cast the Veil that hides its splendours now,
And gladden'd Earth shall, through her wide expanse,
Bask in the glories of this countenance !
For thee, young warrior, welcome!-thou hast yet
Some task to learn, some frailties to forget,
Ere the white war-plume o'er thy brow can wave;
But, once my own, mine all till in the grave!"
The pomp is at an end,-the crowds are gone→ ·.
Each ear and heart still haunted by the tone
Of that deep voice, which thrill'd like ALLA's own!
The young all dazzled by the plumes and lances,
The glittering throne,and Haram's half-caught glances;
The old deep pondering on the promis'd reign
Of peace and truth; and all the female train
Ready to risk their eyes, could they but gaze
A moment on that brow's miraculous blaze!

But there was one among the chosen maids
Who blush'd behind the gallery's silken shades,—

1 "And when we said unto the Angels, Worship Adam, they all worshipped him except Eblis, (Lucifer,) who refused." The Koran, chap. ii.

2 Jesus.

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.

Ah ZELICA! there was a time, when bliss
Shone o'er thy heart from every look of his;
When but to see him, hear him, breathe the air
In which he dwelt, was thy soul's fondest prayer'
When round him hung such a perpetual spell,
Whate'er he did, none ever did so well.
Too happy days! when, if he touch'd a flower
Or
gem of thine, 'twas sacred from that hour;
When thou didst study him, till every tone
And gesture and dear look became thy own,-
Thy voice like his, the changes of his face
In thine reflected with still lovelier grace,
Like echo, sending back sweet music, fraught
With twice th' ærial sweetness it had brought!
Yet now he comes-brighter than even he
E'er beam'd before, but ah! not bright for thee;
No-dread, unlook'd for, like a visitant
From th' other world, he comes as if to haunt
Thy guilty soul with dreams of lost delight,
Long lost to all but memory's aching sight:-
Sad dreams! as when the Spirit of our Youth
Returns in sleep, sparkling with all the truth
And innocence once ours, and leads us back,
In mournful mockery, o'er the shining track
Of our young life, and points out every ray
Of hope and peace we've lost upon the way!

Once happy pair!-in proud BoкHARA's groves,
Who had not heard of their first youthful loves?
Born by that ancient flood,' which from its spring
In the Dark Mountains swiftly wandering,
Enrich'd by every pilgrim brook that shines
With relics from BUCHARIA's ruby mines,
And, lending to the CASPIAN half its strength,
In the cold Lake of Eagles sinks at length;-
There, on the banks of that bright river born,
The flowers, that hung above its wave at morn,
Bless'd not the waters, as they murmur'd by,
With holier scent and lustre, than the sigh
And virgin glance of first affection cast
Upon their youth's smooth current, as it pass'd!
But war disturb'd this vision-far away
From her fond eyes, summon'd to join th' array
Of PERSIA'S warriors on the hills of THRACE,
The youth exchang'd 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,

1 The Amoo, which rises in the Belur Tag, or Dark Mountains, and running nearly from east to west, splits into two branches, one of which falls into the Caspian sea, and the other into Aral Nahr, or the Lake of Eagles.

Just ere he dies,)—at length those sounds of dread
Fell withering on her soul, "AZIM is dead!"
Oh grief, beyond all other griefs, when fate
First leaves the young heart lone and desolate
In the wide world, without that only tie
For which it lov'd to live or fear'd to die ;-
Lorn as the hung-up lute, that ne'er hath spoken
Since the sad day its master-chord was broken!
Fond maid, the sorrow of her soul was such
Ev'n reason blighted sunk beneath its touch;
And though, ere long, her sanguine spirit rose
Above the first dead pressure of its woes,
Though health and bloom return'd, the delicate chain
Of thought, once tangled, never clear'd again.
Warm, lively, soft as in youth's happiest day,
The mind was still all there, but turn'd astray;—
A wandering bark, upon whose pathway shone
All stars of heav'n, except the guiding one!
Again she smil'd, nay, much and brightly smil'd,
But 'twas a lustre, strange, unreal, wild;
And when she sung to her lute's touching strain,
"Twas like the notes, half extacy, half pain,
The bulbul' utters, e'er her soul depart,
When, vanquish'd by some minstrel's powerful art,
She dies upon the lute whose sweetness broke her

heart!

Such was the mood in which that mission found
Young ZELICA,-that mission, which around
The Eastern world, in every region blest
With woman's smile, sought out its loveliest,
Το grace that galaxy of lips and eyes,
Which the Veil'd Prophet destin'd for the skies!-
And such quick welcome as a spark receives
Dropp'd on a bed of autumn's wither'd leaves,
Did every tale of these enthusiasts find

In the wild maiden's sorrow-blighted mind.

All fire at once the madd'ning zeal she caught;-
Elect of Paradise! blest, rapturous thought;
Predestin'd bride, in heaven's eternal dome,

Her soul's delirium, in whose active frame,
Thus lighting up a young, luxuriant flame,
He saw more potent sorceries to bind
To his dark yoke the spirits of mankind,
More subtle chains than hell itself e'er twin'd.
No art was spar'd, no witchery ;-all the skill
His demons taught him was employ'd to fill
Her mind with gloom and extacy by turns-
That gloom, through which Frenzy but fiercer burns;
That extacy, which from the depth of sadness
Glares like the maniac's moon,whose light is madness!

'Twas from a brilliant banquet, where the sound
Of poesy and music breath'd around,
Together picturing to her mind and ear
The glories of that heav'n, her destin'd sphere,
Where all was pure, where every stain that lay
Upon the spirit's light should pass away,
And, realizing more than youthful love
E'er wish'd or dream'd, she should for ever rove
Through fields of fragrance by her AZIM's side,
His own bless'd, purified, eternal bride!—
'Twas from a scene, a witching trance like this,
He hurried her away, yet breathing bliss,
To the dim charnel-house ;-through all its steams
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'd-
There, in that awful place, when each had quaff'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,

Of some brave youth-ha! durst they say "of some ?" In joy or sorrow from his side to sever.

No of the one, one only object trac'd

In her heart's core too deep to be effac'd;

The one whose memory, fresh as life, is twin'd

With ev'ry broken link of her lost mind;

She swore, and the wide charnel echoed, "Neve: never!"

From that dread hour, entirely, wildly given
To him and-she believ'd, lost maid!-to Heaven;

Whose image lives, though Reason's self be wreck'd, Her brain, her heart, her passions all inflam'd,

Safe 'mid the ruins of her intellect!

Alas, poor ZELICA! it needed all
The fantasy, which held thy mind in thrall,
To see in that gay Haram's glowing maids

A sainted colony for Eden's shades;
Or dream that he,-of whose unholy flame
Thou wert too soon the victim,-shining came
From Paradise, to people its pure sphere
With souls like thine, which he hath ruin'd here!
No had not Reason's light totally set,
And left thee dark, thou had'st an amulet
In the lov'd image, graven on thy heart,

How proud she stood, when in full Haram nam'd
The Priestess of the Faith!-how flash'd her eyes
With light, alas! that was not of the skies,
When round, in trances only less than hers,
She saw the Haram kneel, her prostrate worshippers.
Well might MoKANNA think that form alone,
Had spells enough to make the world his own:-
Light, lovely limbs, to which the spirit's play
Gave motion, airy as the dancing spray,
When from its stem the small bird wings away!
Lips in whose rosy labyrinth, when she smil'd,
The soul was lost; and blushes, swift and wild

Which would have sav'd thee from the tempter's art, As are the momentary meteors sent

And kept alive, in all its bloom of breath,
That purity, whose fading is love's death!-
But lost, inflam'd,-a restless zeal took place
Of the mild virgin's still and feminine grace;-
First of the Prophet's favourites, proudly first
In zeal and charms,-too well th' Impostor nurs'd
1 The Nightingale.

Across th' uncalm, but beauteous firmament.
And then her look-oh! where's the heart so wise,
Could unbewilder'd meet those matchless eyes?
Quick, restless, strange, but exquisite withal,
Like those of angels, just before their fall;
Now shadow'd with the shames of earth-now crost
By glimpses of the heaven her heart had lost;

32

In every glance there broke without control,
The flashes of a bright but troubled soul,
Where sensibility still wildly play'd,
Like lightning, round the ruins it had made!

And such was now young ZELICA-so chang'd
From her who, some years since, delighted rang'd
The almond groves, that shade BOKHARA's tide,
All life and bliss, with AzIM by her side!
So alter'd was she now, this festal day,
When, 'mid the proud Divan's dazzling array,
The vision of that Youth, whom she had lov'd,

Yet zeal, ambition, her tremendous vow,
The thought, still haunting her, of that bright brow
Whose blaze, as yet from mortal eye conceal'd
Would soon, proud triumph! be to her reveal'd,
To her alone;-and then the hope most dear,
Most wild of all, that her transgression here
Was but a passage through earth's grosser fire,
From which the spirit would at last aspire,
Ev'n purer than before, as perfumes rise
Through flaine and smoke, most welcome to the
skies-

And that when AZIM's fond, divine embrace

And wept as dead, before her breath'd and mov'd; Should circle her in heav'n, no darkening trace
When-bright, she thought, as if from Eden's track
But half-way trodden, he had wander'd back
Again to earth, glistening with Eden's light-
Her beauteous AZIM shone before her sight.

Oh Reason! who shall say what spells renew,
When least we look for it, thy broken clew!
Through what small vistas o'er the darken'd brain
Thy intellectual day-beam bursts again;
And how, like forts, to which beleaguerers win
Unhop'd-for entrance through some friend within,
One clear idea, waken'd in the breast
By Memory's magic, lets in all the rest!
Would it were thus, unhappy girl, with thee!
But, though light came, it came but partially;
Enough to show the maze, in which thy sense
Wander'd about,-but not to guide it thence;
Enough to glimmer o'er the yawning wave,
But not to point the harbour which might save.
Hours of delight and peace, long left behind,
With that dear form came rushing o'er her mind;
But oh! to think how deep her soul had gone
In shame and falsehood since those moments shone;
And, then, her oath-there madness lay again,
And, shuddering, back she sunk into her chain
Of mental darkness, as if blest to flee
From light, whose every glimpse was agony!
Yet, one relief this glance of former years
Brought, mingled with its pain-tears, floods of tears,
Long frozen at her heart, but now like rills
Let loose in spring-time from the snowy hills,
And gushing warm, after a sleep of frost,
Through valleys where their flow had long been lost!

Sad and subdued, for the first time her frame
Trembled with horror, when the summons came
(A summons proud and rare, which all but she,
And she, till now, had heard with extacy,)
To meet MOKANNA at his place of prayer,
A garden oratory, cool and fair,
By the stream's side, where still at close of day
The Prophet of the Veil retir'd to pray;
Sometimes alone-but, oftener far, with one,
One chosen nymph to share his orison.

Of late none found such favour in his sight
As the young Priestess; and though, since that night
When the death-caverns echo'd every tone
Of the dire oath that made her all his own,
Th' Impostor, sure of his infatuate prize,
Had, more than once, thrown off his soul's disguise,
And utter'd such unheav'nly, monstrous things,
As ev'n across the desperate wanderings
Of a weak intellect, whose lamp was out,
Threw startling shadows of dismay and doubt;-

Would on that bosom he once lov'd remain,
But all be bright, be pure, be his again!—
These were the wildering dreams, whose curst deceit
Had chain'd her soul beneath the tempter's feet,
And made her think ev'n damning falsehood sweet.
But now that Shape which had appall'd her view,
That Semblance-oh how terrible, if true!-
Which came across her frenzy's full career
With shock of consciousness, cold, deep, severe,
As when in northern seas, at midnight dark,
An isle of ice encounters some swift bark,
And, startling all its wretches from their sleep,
By one cold impulse hurls them to the deep;
So came that shock not frenzy's self could bear,
And waking up each long-lull'd image there,
But check'd her headlong soul, to sink it in despair!

Wan and dejected, through the evening dusk,
She now went slowly to that small kiosk,
Where, pondering alone his impious schemes,
MOKANNA waited her-too wrapt in dreams
Of the fair-ripening future's rich success,
To heed the sorrow, pale and spiritless,
That sat upon his victim's downcast brow,
Or mark how slow her step, how alter'd now
From the quick, ardent Priestess, whose light bound
Came like a spirit's o'er th' unechoing ground,—
From that wild ZELICA, whose every glance
Was thrilling fire, whose every thought a trance!

Upon his couch the Veiled MOKANNA lay,
While lamps around-not such as lend their ray
Glimmering and cold, to those who nightly pray
In holy Kooм,' or MECCA's dim arcades,-
But brilliant, soft, such light as lovely maids
Look loveliest in, shed their luxurious glow
Upon his mystic Veil's white glittering flow.
Beside him, 'stead of beads and books of prayer,
Which the world fondly thought he mused on there,
Stood vases, fill'd with KISHMEE's' golden wine,
And the red weepings of the SHIRAZ Vine;
Of which his curtain'd lips full many a draught
Took zealously, as if each drop they quaff'd,
Like ZEMZEM's Spring of Holiness, had power
To freshen the soul's virtues into flower!
And still he drank and ponder'd-nor could see
Th' approaching maid, so deep his reverie;

1 The cities of Com [or Koom] and Cashan are full of mosques, mausoleums, and sepulchres of the descendants of Ali, the Saints of Persia. Chardin.

2 An Island in the Persian Gulf, celebrated for its white wine.

3 The miraculous well at Mecca; so called, suys Sale, from the murmuring of its watere.