Woe to that hour he came or went!
The curse for Hassan's sin was sent
To turn a palace to a tomb;

He came, he went, like the simoom,"
That harbinger of fate and gloom,
Beneath whose widely-wasting breath
The very cypress droops to death-

Dark tree, still sad when others' grief is fled,
The only constant mourner o'er the dead!

3

The steed is vanish'd from the stall;
No serf is seen in Hassan's hall;
The lonely spider's thin gray pall
Waves slowly widening o'er the wall;
The bat builds in his haram bower,
And in the fortress of his power
The owl usurps the beacon-tower;

The wild-dog howls o'er the fountain's brim,
With baffled thirst, and famine, grim;"

For the stream has shrunk from its marble bed,

Where the weeds and the desolate dust are spread.
"Twas sweet of yore to see it play

And chase the sultriness of day,
As springing high the silver dew
In whirls fantastically flew,

And flung luxurious coolness round.

The air, and verdure o'er the ground.

"Twas sweet, when cloudless stars were bright,
To view the wave of watery light,
And hear its melody by night.

2 The blast of the desert, fatal to everything living, and often alluded to in Eastern poetry.

[When the wind blows over the burning desert it gets heated in its passage, and carries with it also the finer particles of sand. The air parches the throat and skin, and, if the face is uncovered, the sand blinds and chokes. But though the simoom is often debilitating, and occasionally fatal, modern travellers attest that its effects have been grossly exaggerated.]

3

4

["The lonely spider's thin gray pall

Is curtain'd on the splendid wall."-MS.]

["The wild-dog howls o'er the fountain's brink,
But vainly tells his tongue to drink."--MS.

5

And oft had Hassan's Childhood play'd
Around the verge of that cascade;
And oft upon his mother's breast
That sound had harmonized his rest;
And oft had Hassan's Youth along
Its bank been soothed by Beauty's song;
And softer seem'd each melting tone
Of Music mingled with its own.
But ne'er shall Hassan's Age repose
Along the brink at twilight's close:
The stream that fill'd that font is fled-
The blood that warm'd his heart is shed!"
And here no more shall human voice
Be heard to rage, regret, rejoice.
The last sad note that swell'd the gale
Was woman's wildest funeral wail:
That quench'd in silence, all is still,

But the lattice that flaps when the wind is shrill :
Though raves the gust, and floods the rain,
No hand shall close its clasp again.

On desert sands 'twere joy to scan
The rudest steps of fellow man,
So here the very voice of Grief
Might wake an Echo like relief-
At least 'twould say, "All are not gone;
There lingers Life, though but in one ”—
For many a gilded chamber's there,
Which Solitude might well forbear;"
Within that dome as yet Decay

Hath slowly work'd her cankering way-
But gloom is gather'd o'er the gate,

Nor there the Fakir's self will wait;

6 ["I have just recollected an alteration you may make in the proof. Among the lines on Hassan's Serai, is this- Unmeet for solitude to share.'

Now, to share

implies more than one, and Solitude is a single gentleman: it must be thus

and so on.

'For many a gilded chamber's there,
Which Solitude might well forbear;'

Will you adopt this correction? and pray accept a Stilton cheese from me for your trouble."-B. Letters, Stilton, Oct. 3, 1813.]

VOL. III.

997

Nor there will wandering Dervise stay,
For bounty cheers not his delay;
Nor there will weary stranger halt
To bless the sacred "bread and salt."
Alike must Wealth and Poverty
Pass heedless and unheeded by,
For Courtesy and Pity died

With Hassan on the mountain side.

His roof, that refuge unto men,

Is Desolation's hungry den.

The guest flies the hall, and the vassal from labour,
Since his turban was cleft by the infidel's sabre ! ®

I hear the sound of coming feet,
But not a voice mine ear to greet;
More near-each turban I can scan,
And silver-sheathed ataghan; "
The foremost of the band is seen
An Emir by his garb of green: '

"Ho! who art thou?". "This low salam 2

Replies of Moslem faith I am.

The burthen ye so gently bear,

Seems one that claims your

utmost care,

And, doubtless, holds some precious freight,
My humble bark would gladly wait."

"Thou speakest sooth: thy skiff unmoor,

And waft us from the silent shore;

2

7 To partake of food, to break bread and salt with your host, ensures the safety of the guest even though an enemy, his person from that moment is sacred.

8 I need hardly observe, that Charity and Hospitality are the first duties enjoined by Mahomet; and to say truth, very generally practised by his disciples. The first praise that can be bestowed on a chief, is a panegyric on his bounty; the next, on his valour.

9 The ataghan, a long dagger worn with pistols in the belt, in a metal scabbard, generally of silver; and, among the wealthier, gilt, or of gold.

1 Green is the privileged colour of the prophet's numerous pretended descendants; with them, as here, faith (the family inheritance) is supposed to supersede the necessity of good works: they are the worst of a very indifferent brood.

2 Salam aleikoum! aleikoum salam !" peace be with you; be with you peacethe salutation reserved for the faithful to a Christian, "Urlarula," a good journey; or "saban hiresem, saban serula;" good morn, good even; and sometimes, "may your end be happy; are the usual salutes.

Nay, leave the sail still furl'd, and ply
The nearest oar that's scatter'd by,
And midway to those rocks where sleep
The channell❜d waters dark and deep.
Rest from your task-so-bravely done,
Our course has been right swiftly run;
Yet 'tis the longest voyage, I trow,
That one of- *

*

*

*

Sullen it plunged, and slowly sank,
The calm wave rippled to the bank;
I watch'd it as it sank, methought
Some motion from the current caught
Bestirr❜d it more,-'twas but the beam
That checker'd o'er the living stream:
I gazed, till vanishing from view,
Like lessening pebble it withdrew;
Still less and less, a speck of white
That gemm'd the tide, then mock'd the sight;
And all its hidden secrets sleep,

Known but to Genii of the deep,

Which, trembling in their coral caves,
They dare not whisper to the waves.

3

The insect-queen of eastern spring,
O'er emerald meadows of Kashmeer

Invites the young pursuer near,
And leads him on from flower to flower
A weary chase and wasted hour,
Then leaves him, as it soars on high,
With panting heart and tearful eye :
So Beauty lures the full-grown child,
With hue as bright, and wing as wild :
A chase of idle hopes and fears,
Begun in folly, closed in tears.

3 The blue-winged butterfly of Kashmecr, the most rare and beautiful of the species.

If won, to equal ills betray'd,"
Woe waits the insect and the maid;
A life of pain, the loss of peace,
From infant's play, and man's caprice :
The lovely toy so fiercely sought
Hath lost its charm by being caught,
For every touch that woo'd its stay
Hath brush'd its brightest hues away,
Till charm, and hue, and beauty gone,
'Tis left to fly or fall alone.
With wounded wing, or bleeding breast,
Ah! where shall either victim rest?
Can this with faded pinion soar
From rose to tulip as before?
Or Beauty, blighted in an hour,
Find joy within her broken bower?
No gayer insects fluttering by

Ne'er droop the wing o'er those that die,
And lovelier things have mercy shown
To every failing but their own,

4

5

The Mind, that broods o'er guilty woes,
Is like the Scorpion girt by fire;
In circle narrowing as it glows,*
The flames around their captive close,
Till inly search'd by thousand throes,
And maddening in her ire,

One sad and sole relief she knows,
The sting she nourish'd for her foes,
Whose venom never yet was vain,
Gives but one pang, and cures all pain,
And darts into her desperate brain :
So do the dark in soul expire,

Or live like Scorpion girt by fire; °

["If caught, to fate alike betray'd.”—MS.]

["The gathering flames around her close."—MS.]

6 Alluding to the dubious suicide of the scorpion, so placed for experiment by