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diff --git a/76794-0.txt b/76794-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..42d0df3 --- /dev/null +++ b/76794-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11309 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76794 *** + + + + + + LALLA ROOKH: + + AN ORIENTAL ROMANCE. + + + BY THOMAS MOORE. + + WITH SIXTY-NINE ILLUSTRATIONS FROM ORIGINAL DRAWINGS BY JOHN TENNIEL, + ENGRAVED ON WOOD BY THE BROTHERS DALZIEL; + AND FIVE ORNAMENTAL PAGES OF PERSIAN DESIGN BY T. SULMAN, JUN. + ENGRAVED ON WOOD BY H. N. WOODS. + + + + + LONDON: + LONGMAN, GREEN, LONGMAN, & ROBERTS. + 1861. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + Richard Clay + Breads Hill + London + SOLA LUX MIHI LAUS + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + TO + + + SAMUEL ROGERS, ESQ. + + + THIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED + + + BY + + + HIS VERY GRATEFUL + + + AND AFFECTIONATE FRIEND + + + THOMAS MOORE. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. + + + LALLA ROOKH. + + ILLUMINATED TITLE-PAGE. + [From several ancient MSS. in the Library of the East India + House.] + + PAGE + He was a youth about LALLA ROOKH’S own age. 1 + + That Veiled Prophet of Khorassan 8 + + + THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. + + ORNAMENTAL TITLE-PAGE 9 + [Principally from a beautiful MS. in the British Museum.] + + There on that throne, to which the blind belief + Of millions rais’d him, sat the Prophet-Chief. 11 + + All, all are there;—each Land its flower hath given, + To form that fair young Nursery for Heaven! 14 + + Believes the form, to which he bends his knee, + Some pure, redeeming angel, sent to free. 17 + + She saw that youth, too well, too dearly known, + Silently kneeling at the Prophet’s throne. 21 + + All fire at once the madd’ning zeal she caught;— + Elect of Paradise! blest, rapturous thought! 25 + + She swore, and the wide charnel echoed, “Never, never!” 28 + + At length, with fiendish laugh, like that which broke + From EBLIS at the Fall of Man, he spoke. 35 + + “Such the refin’d enchantress that must be + This hero’s vanquisher,—and thou art she!” 41 + + He raised his veil—the Maid turn’d slowly round, + Look’d at him—shriek’d—and sunk upon the ground! 47 + + Now, through the Haram chambers, moving lights + And busy shapes proclaim the toilet’s rites. 50 + + Young AZIM roams bewilder’d,—nor can guess + What means this maze of light and loneliness. 53 + + He sees a group of female forms advance. 59 + + “Poor maiden!” thought the youth, “if thou wert sent.” 62 + + Oh! could he listen to such sounds unmov’d, + And by that light—nor dream of her he lov’d? 68 + + “Look up, my ZELICA—one moment show + Those gentle eyes to me, that I may know.” 71 + + “Oh! curse me not,” she cried, as wild he toss’d + His desperate hand tow’rds Heaven. 75 + + “Thy oath! thy oath!” 79 + + They saw a young Hindoo girl upon the bank 81 + + Whose are the gilded tents that crowd the way? 84 + + In vain he yells his desperate curses out. 90 + + For this alone exists—like lightning-fire, + To speed one bolt of vengeance, and expire! 94 + + And they beheld an orb, ample and bright, + Rise from the Holy Well. 98 + + And led her glittering forth before the eyes + Of his rude train, as to a sacrifice. 102 + + And death and conflagration throughout all + The desolate city hold high festival! 104 + + “There, ye wise Saints, behold your Light, your Star— + Ye _would_ be dupes and victims, and ye _are_.” 109 + + He sprung and sunk, as the last words were said— + Quick clos’d the burning waters o’er his head. 113 + + “And pray that He may pardon her,—may take + Compassion on her soul for thy dear sake.” 117 + + For this the old man breath’d his thanks and died. 119 + + + PARADISE AND THE PERI. + + ORNAMENTAL TITLE-PAGE 127 + [Architectural details from Baghdad, &c.] + + The glorious Angel, who was keeping + The gates of Light, beheld her weeping. 129 + + ⸺She caught the last— + Last glorious drop his heart had shed. 135 + + Like their good angel, calmly keeping + Watch o’er them till their souls would waken. 143 + + Then swift his haggard brow he turn’d + To the fair child, who fearless sat. 148 + + Blest tears of soul-felt penitence! 151 + + And now—behold him kneeling there + By the child’s side, in humble prayer. 152 + + “Joy, joy for ever!—my task is done.” 154 + + + THE FIRE WORSHIPPERS. + + ORNAMENTAL TITLE-PAGE 167 + [In part from the binding of a “Shah Namah,” in the East India + House Library.] + + And sits alone in that high bower + Watching the still and shining deep. 169 + + “Oh! ever thus, from childhood’s hour, + I’ve seen my fondest hopes decay.” 181 + + “Here, maiden, look—weep—blush to see + All that thy sire abhors in me!” 185 + + Fiercely he broke away, nor stopp’d, + Nor look’d—but from the lattice dropp’d. 189 + + The morn hath risen clear and calm, + And o’er the Green Sea palely shines. 192 + + ’Tis HAFED—name of fear, whose sound + Chills like the muttering of a charm! 197 + + His Chiefs stood round—each shining blade + Upon the broken altar laid. 205 + + “This very night his blood shall steep + These hands all over ere I sleep!” 211 + + And o’er the wide, tempestuous wave + Looks, with a shudder, to those towers. 216 + + And snatch’d her breathless from beneath + This wilderment of wreck and death. 222 + + Shuddering, she look’d around—there lay + A group of warriors in the sun. 227 + + “Tremble not, love, thy Gheber’s here!” 233 + + Ancient Persian Fire-Altar, &c. &c. 236 + + ’Twas one of those ambrosial eves + A day of storm so often leaves. 238 + + Breathless she stands, with eyes cast down. 241 + + He felt it—deeply felt—and stood, + As if the tale had frozen his blood. 248 + + A signal, deep and dread as those + The storm-fiend at his rising blows. 254 + + As mute they pass’d before the flame + To light their torches as they pass’d. 256 + + They come—that plunge into the water + Gives signal for the work of slaughter. 263 + + “Now, Freedom’s God! I come to Thee.” 269 + + Where still she fix’d her dying gaze,— + And, gazing, sunk into the wave. 274 + + “Farewell—farewell to thee, ARABY’S daughter!” 277 + + + THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. + + ORNAMENTAL TITLE-PAGE 283 + [From porcelain and illuminated MSS.] + + Or to see it by moonlight,—when mellowly shines + The light o’er its palaces, gardens, and shrines. 285 + + He saw, in the wreaths she would playfully snatch + From the hedges, a glory his crown could not match. 291 + + Such cloud it is that now hangs over + The heart of the Imperial Lover. 295 + + He heeds them not—one smile of hers + Is worth a world of worshippers. 297 + + Fill’d with the cool, inspiring smell, + The Enchantress now begins her spell. 302 + + No sooner was the flowery crown + Plac’d on her head, than sleep came down. 305 + + That all stood hush’d and wondering, + And turn’d and look’d into the air. 315 + + She whispers him with laughing eyes, + “Remember, love, the Feast of Roses!” 320 + + They had now begun to ascend those barren mountains. 321 + + The marriage was fixed for the morning after her arrival. 329 + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + PREFACE. + + (WRITTEN ORIGINALLY FOR “LALLA ROOKH” IN THE COLLECTED + EDITION OF MOORE’S WORKS.) + + + -------------- + + +The Poem, or Romance, of LALLA ROOKH, having now reached, I understand, +its twentieth edition, a short account of the origin and progress of a +work which has been hitherto so very fortunate in its course, may not be +deemed, perhaps, superfluous or misplaced. + +It was about the year 1812, that, far more through the encouraging +suggestions of friends than from any confident promptings of my own +ambition, I conceived the design of writing a Poem upon some Oriental +subject, and of those quarto dimensions which Scott’s successful +publications in that form had then rendered the regular poetical +standard. A negotiation on the subject was opened with the Messrs. +Longman in the same year; but, from some causes which I cannot now +recollect, led to no decisive result; nor was it till a year or two +after, that any further steps were taken in the matter,—their house +being the only one, it is right to add, with which, from first to last, +I held any communication upon the subject. + +On this last occasion, Mr. Perry kindly offered himself as my +representative in the treaty; and, what with the friendly zeal of my +negotiator on the one side, and the prompt and liberal spirit with which +he was met on the other, there has seldom, I think, occurred any +transaction in which Trade and Poesy have shone out so advantageously in +each other’s eyes. The short discussion that then took place, between +the two parties, may be comprised in a very few sentences. “I am of +opinion,” said Mr. Perry,—enforcing his view of the case by arguments +which it is not for me to cite,—“that Mr. Moore ought to receive for his +Poem the largest price that has been given, in our day, for such a +work.” “That was,” answered the Messrs. Longman, “three thousand +guineas.” “Exactly so,” replied Mr. Perry, “and no less a sum ought he +to receive.” + +It was then objected, and very reasonably, on the part of the firm, that +they had never yet seen a single line of the Poem; and that a perusal of +the work ought to be allowed to them, before they embarked so large a +sum in the purchase. But, no;—the romantic view which my friend, Perry, +took of the matter, was, that this price should be given as a tribute to +reputation already acquired, without any condition for a previous +perusal of the new work. This high tone, I must confess, not a little +startled and alarmed me; but, to the honour and glory of Romance,—as +well on the publisher’s side as the poet’s,—this very generous view of +the transaction was, without any difficulty, acceded to, and the firm +agreed, before we separated, that I was to receive three thousand +guineas for my Poem. + +At the time of this agreement, but little of the work, as it stands at +present, had yet been written. But the ready confidence in my success +shown by others, made up for the deficiency of that requisite feeling, +within myself; while a strong desire not wholly to disappoint this +“auguring hope,” became almost a substitute for inspiration. In the year +1815, therefore, having made some progress in my task, I wrote to report +the state of the work to the Messrs. Longman, adding, that I was now +most willing and ready, should they desire it, to submit the manuscript +for their consideration. Their answer to this offer was as follows:—“We +are certainly impatient for the perusal of the Poem; but solely for our +gratification. Your sentiments are always honourable.”[i] + +I continued to pursue my task for another year, being likewise +occasionally occupied with the Irish Melodies, two or three numbers of +which made their appearance, during the period employed in writing Lalla +Rookh. At length, in the year 1816, I found my work sufficiently +advanced to be placed in the hands of the publishers. But the state of +distress to which England was reduced, in that dismal year, by the +exhausting effects of the series of wars she had just then concluded, +and the general embarrassment of all classes both agricultural and +commercial, rendered it a juncture the least favourable that could well +be conceived for the first launch into print of so light and costly a +venture as Lalla Rookh. Feeling conscious, therefore, that under such +circumstances, I should act but honestly in putting it in the power of +the Messrs. Longman to reconsider the terms of their engagement with +me,—leaving them free to postpone, modify, or even, should such be their +wish, relinquish it altogether, I wrote them a letter to that effect, +and received the following answer:—“We shall be most happy in the +pleasure of seeing you in February. We agree with you, indeed, that the +times are most inauspicious for ‘poetry and thousands;’ but we believe +that your poetry would do more than that of any other living poet at the +present moment.”[ii] + +The length of time I employed in writing the few stories strung together +in Lalla Rookh will appear, to some persons, much more than was +necessary for the production of such easy and “light o’ love” fictions. +But, besides that I have been, at all times, a far more slow and +painstaking workman than would ever be guessed, I fear, from the result, +I felt that, in this instance, I had taken upon myself a more than +ordinary responsibility, from the immense stake risked by others on my +chance of success. For a long time, therefore, after the agreement had +been concluded, though generally at work with a view to this task, I +made but very little real progress in it; and I have still by me the +beginnings of several stories continued, some of them, to the length of +three or four hundred lines, which, after in vain endeavouring 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 +wafted her daughter to this holy retreat, in a bright, enchanted boat, +whose first appearance is thus described:— + + * * * * * + + For, down the silvery tide afar, + There came a boat, as swift and bright + As shines, in heav’n, some pilgrim-star, + That leaves its own high home, at night, + To shoot to distant shrines of light. + + “It comes, it comes,” young Orian cries, + And panting to Mohassan flies. + Then, down upon the flowery grass + Reclines to see the vision pass; + With partly joy and partly fear, + To find its wondrous light so near, + And hiding oft his dazzled eyes + Among the flowers on which he lies. + + * * * * * + + Within the boat a baby slept, + Like a young pearl within its shell; + While one, who seem’d of riper years, + But not of earth, or earth-like spheres, + Her watch beside the slumberer kept; + Gracefully waving, in her hand, + 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, + Around the sleeping infant flew. + 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, + Her father sleeps in the Caspian water; + Sea-weeds twine + 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; + But, there, the flowers are all too bright + For the eyes of a baby born of man. + On flowers of earth her feet must tread; + So hither my light-wing’d bark hath brought her; + Stranger, spread + 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 ev’n the Saint Banou, + As, through the hush’d, admiring throng, + She went with stately steps along, + And counted o’er, that all might see, + The rubies of her rosary. + But none might see the worldly smile + That lurk’d beneath her veil, the while:— + Alla forbid! for, who would wait + Her blessing at the temple’s gate,— + What holy man would ever run + To kiss the ground she knelt upon, + If once, by luckless chance, he knew + She look’d and smil’d as others do. + Her hands were join’d, and from each wrist + By threads of pearl and golden twist + Hung relics of the saints of yore, + And scraps of talismanic lore,— + Charms for the old, the sick, the frail, + Some made for use, and all for sale. + On either side, the crowd withdrew, + To let the Saint pass proudly through; + While turban’d heads of every hue, + Green, white, and crimson, bow’d around, + And gay tiaras touch’d the ground,— + As tulip-bells, when o’er their beds + The musk-wind passes, bend their heads. + Nay, some there were, among the crowd + Of Moslem heads that round her bow’d, + So fill’d with zeal, by many a draught + Of Shiraz wine profanely quaff’d, + That, sinking low in reverence then, + They never rose till morn again. + +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 supposed to be addressed to +him by his aged guardian:— + + Bright child of destiny! even now + I read the promise on that brow, + That tyrants shall no more defile + The glories of the Green Sea Isle, + But Ormuz shall again be free, + 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, + + “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 +Ghebers,[iii] or ancient Fire-worshippers of Persia, and their haughty +Moslem masters. From that moment, a new and deep interest in my whole +task took possession of me. The cause of tolerance was again my +inspiring theme; and the spirit that had spoken in the melodies of +Ireland soon found itself at home in the East. + +Having thus laid open the secrets of the workshop to account for the +time expended in _writing_ this work, I must also, in justice to my own +industry, notice the pains I took in long and laboriously _reading_ for +it. To form a store-house, as it were, of illustration purely Oriental, +and so familiarise myself with its various treasures, that, as quick as +Fancy required the aid of fact, in her spiritings, the memory was ready, +like another Ariel, at her “strong bidding,” to furnish materials for +the spellwork,—such was, for a long while, the sole object of my +studies; and whatever time and trouble this preparatory process may have +cost me, the effects resulting from it, as far as the humble merit of +truthfulness is concerned, have been such as to repay me more than +sufficiently for my pains. I have not forgotten how great was my +pleasure, when told by the late Sir James Mackintosh, that he was once +asked by Colonel W⸺s, the historian of British India, “whether it was +true that Moore had never been in the East?” “Never,” answered +Mackintosh. “Well, that shows me,” replied Colonel W⸺s, “that reading +over D’Herbelot is as good as riding on the back of a camel.” + +I need hardly subjoin to this lively speech, that although D’Herbelot’s +valuable work was, of course, one of my manuals, I took the whole range +of all such Oriental reading as was accessible to me; and became, for +the time, indeed, far more conversant with all relating to that distant +region, than I have ever been with the scenery, productions, or modes of +life of any of those countries lying most within my reach. We know that +D’Anville, though never in his life out of Paris, was able to correct a +number of errors in a plan of the Troad taken by De Choiseul, on the +spot; and, for my own very different, as well as far inferior, purposes, +the knowledge I had thus acquired of distant localities, seen only by me +in my day-dreams, was no less ready and useful. + +An ample reward for all this painstaking has been found in such welcome +tributes as I have just now cited; nor can I deny myself the +gratification of citing a few more of the same description. From another +distinguished authority on Eastern subjects, the late Sir John Malcolm, +I had myself the pleasure of hearing a similar opinion publicly +expressed;—that eminent person in a speech spoken by him at a Literary +Fund Dinner, having remarked, that together with those qualities of a +poet which he much too partially assigned to me was combined also “the +truth of the historian.” + +Sir William Ouseley, another high authority, in giving his testimony to +the same effect, thus notices an exception to the general accuracy for +which he gives me credit:—“Dazzled by the beauties of this +composition,[iv] few readers can perceive, and none surely can regret, +that the poet, in his magnificent catastrophe, has forgotten, or boldly +and most happily violated, the precept of Zoroaster, above noticed, +which held it impious to consume any portion of a human body by fire, +especially by that which glowed upon their altars.” Having long lost, I +fear, most of my Eastern learning, I can only cite, in defence of my +catastrophe, an old Oriental tradition, which relates, that Nimrod, when +Abraham refused, at his command, to worship the fire, ordered him to be +thrown into the midst of the flames.[v] A precedent so ancient for this +sort of use of the worshipped element, would appear, for all purposes at +least of poetry, fully sufficient. + +In addition to these agreeable testimonies, I have also heard, and, need +hardly add, with some pride and pleasure, that parts of this work have +been rendered into Persian, and have found their way to Ispahan. To this +fact, as I am willing to think it, allusion is made in some lively +verses, written many years since, by my friend, Mr. Luttrell:— + + “I’m told, dear Moore, your lays are sung, + (Can it be true, you lucky man?) + By moonlight, in the Persian tongue, + Along the streets of Ispahan.” + +That some knowledge of the work may have really reached that region, +appears not improbable from a passage in the Travels of Mr. Frazer, who +says, that “being delayed for some time at a town on the shores of the +Caspian, he was lucky enough to be able to amuse himself with a copy of +Lalla Rookh, which a Persian had lent him.” + +Of the description of Balbec, in “Paradise and the Peri,” Mr. Carne, in +his Letters from the East, thus speaks: “The description in Lalla Rookh +of the plain and its ruins is exquisitely faithful. The minaret is on +the declivity near at hand, and there wanted only the muezzin’s cry to +break the silence.” + +I shall now tax my reader’s patience with but one more of these generous +vouchers. Whatever of vanity there may be in citing such tributes, they +show, at least, of what great value, even in poetry, is that prosaic +quality, industry; since, as the reader of the foregoing pages is now +fully apprized, it was in a slow and laborious collection of small +facts, that the first foundations of this fanciful Romance were laid. + +The friendly testimony I have just referred to, appeared, some years +since, in the form in which I now give it, and, if I recollect right, in +the Athenæum:— + + “I embrace this opportunity of bearing my individual testimony + (if it be of any value) to the extraordinary accuracy of Mr. + Moore, in his topographical, antiquarian, and characteristic + details, whether of costume, manners, or less-changing + monuments, both in his Lalla Rookh and in the Epicurean. It has + been my fortune to read his Atlantic, Bermudean, and American + Odes and Epistles, in the countries and among the people to + which and to whom they related; I enjoyed also the exquisite + delight of reading his Lalla Rookh, in Persia itself; and I have + perused the Epicurean, while all my recollections of Egypt and + its still existing wonders are as fresh as when I quitted the + banks of the Nile for Arabia:—I owe it, therefore, as a debt of + gratitude (though the payment is most inadequate), for the great + pleasure I have derived from his productions, to bear my humble + testimony to their local fidelity. + + J. S. B.” + +Among the incidents connected with this work, I must not omit to notice +the splendid Divertissement, founded upon it, which was acted at the +Château Royal of Berlin, during the visit of the Grand Duke Nicholas to +that capital, in the year 1822. The different stories composing the work +were represented in Tableaux Vivans and songs; and among the crowd of +royal and noble personages engaged in the performances, I shall mention +those only who represented the principal characters, and whom I find +thus enumerated in the published account of the Divertissement.[vi] + + “Fadladin, Grand-Nasir Comte Haack (Maréchal de Cour.) + Aliris, Roi de Bucharie S. A. I. Le Grand Duc. + Lalla Roûkh S. A. I. Le Grande Duchesse. + Aurungzeb, le Grand Mogol { S. A. R. Le Prince Guillaume, + { frère du Roi. + Abdallah, Père d’Aliris S. A. R. Le Duc de Cumberland. + La Reine, son épouse { S. A. R. La Princesse Louise + { Radzivill.” + +Besides these and other leading personages, there were also brought into +action, under the various denominations of Seigneurs et Dames de +Bucharie, Dames de Cachemire, Seigneurs et Dames dansans à la Fête des +Roses, &c. nearly 150 persons. + +Of the manner and style in which the Tableaux of the different stories +are described in the work from which I cite, the following account of +the performance of Paradise and the Peri will afford some specimen:— + +“La décoration représentoit les portes brillantes du Paradis, entourées +de nuages. Dans le premier tableau on voyoit la Péri, triste et desolée, +couchée sur le seuil des portes fermées, et l’Ange de lumière qui lui +addresse des consolations et des conseils. Le second représente le +moment où la Péri, dans l’espoir que ce don lui ouvrira l’entrée du +Paradis, recueille la dernière goutte de sang que vient de verser le +jeune guerrier Indien.... + +“La Péri et l’Ange de lumière répondoient pleinement à l’image et à +l’idée qu’on est tenté de se faire de ces deux individus, et +l’impression qu’a faite généralement la suite des tableaux de cet +épisode délicat et intéressant est loin de s’effacer de notre souvenir.” + +In this grand Fête, it appears, originated the translation of Lalla +Rookh into German[vii] verse, by the Baron de la Motte Fouqué; and the +circumstances which led him to undertake the task, are described by +himself in a Dedicatory Poem to the Empress of Russia, which he has +prefixed to his translation. As soon as the performance, he tells us, +had ended, Lalla Rookh (the Empress herself) exclaimed, with a sigh, “Is +it, then, all over? are we now at the close of all that has given us so +much delight? and lives there no poet who will impart to others, and to +future times, some notion of the happiness we have enjoyed this +evening?” On hearing this appeal, a Knight of Cashmere (who is no other +than the poetical Baron himself) comes forward and promises to attempt +to present to the world “the Poem itself in the measure of the +original:”—whereupon Lalla Rookh, it is added, approvingly smiled. + +----- + +Footnote i: + + April 10, 1815. + +Footnote ii: + + November 9, 1816. + +Footnote iii: + + 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 jansénistes.” + +Footnote iv: + + The Fire-worshippers. + +Footnote v: + + “Tradunt autem Hebræi hanc fabulam quod Abraham in ignem missus sit + quia ignem adorare noluit.”—ST. HIERON. _in Quæst. in Genesim_. + +Footnote vi: + + Lalla Roûkh Divertissement, mêlé de Chants et de Danses, Berlin, 1822. + The work contains a series of coloured engravings, representing + groups, processions, &c. in different Oriental costumes. + +Footnote vii: + + Since this was written, another translation of Lalla Rookh into German + verse has been made by Theodor Oelckers (Leipzig, Tauchnitz, Jun.), + which has already passed through three editions. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + LALLA ROOKH + + + + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + +In the eleventh year of the reign of Aurungzebe, Abdalla, King of the +Lesser Bucharia, a lineal descendant from the Great Zingis, having +abdicated the throne in favour of his son, set out on a pilgrimage to +the Shrine of the Prophet; and, passing into India through the +delightful valley of Cashmere, rested for a short time at Delhi on his +way. He was entertained by Aurungzebe in a style of magnificent +hospitality, worthy alike of the visitor and the host, and was +afterwards escorted with the same splendour to Surat, where he embarked +for Arabia.[1] During the stay of the Royal Pilgrim at Delhi, a marriage +was agreed upon between the Prince, his son, and the youngest daughter +of the emperor, LALLA ROOKH;[2]—a Princess described by the Poets of her +time as more beautiful than Leila,[3] Shirine,[4] Dewildé,[5] or any of +those heroines whose names and loves embellish the songs of Persia and +Hindostan. It was intended that the nuptials should be celebrated at +Cashmere; where the young King, as soon as the cares of empire would +permit, was to meet, for the first time, his lovely bride, and, after a +few months’ repose in that enchanting valley, conduct her over the snowy +hills into Bucharia. + +The day of LALLA ROOKH’S departure from Delhi was as splendid as +sunshine and pageantry could make it. The bazaars and baths were all +covered with the richest tapestry; hundreds of gilded barges upon the +Jumna floated with their banners shining in the water; while through the +streets groups of beautiful children went strewing the most delicious +flowers around, as in that Persian festival called the Scattering of the +Roses;[6] till every part of the city was as fragrant as if a caravan of +musk from Khoten had passed through it. The Princess, having taken leave +of her kind father, who at parting hung a cornelian of Yemen round her +neck, on which was inscribed a verse from the Koran, and having sent a +considerable present to the Fakirs, who kept up the Perpetual Lamp in +her sister’s tomb, meekly ascended the palankeen prepared for her; and, +while Aurungzebe stood to take a last look from his balcony, the +procession moved slowly on the road to Lahore. + +Seldom had the Eastern world seen a cavalcade so superb. From the +gardens in the suburbs to the Imperial palace, it was one unbroken line +of splendour. The gallant appearance of the Rajahs and Mogul Lords, +distinguished by those insignia of the Emperor’s favour,[7] the feathers +of the egret of Cashmere in their turbans, and the small silver-rimmed +kettledrums at the bows of their saddles;—the costly armour of their +cavaliers, who vied, on this occasion, with the guards of the great +Keder Khan,[8] in the brightness of their silver battle-axes and the +massiness of their maces of gold;—the glittering of the gilt +pine-apples[9] on the tops of the palankeens;—the embroidered trappings +of the elephants, bearing on their backs small turrets, in the shape of +little antique temples, within which the Ladies of LALLA ROOKH lay as it +were enshrined;—the rose-coloured veils of the Princess’s own sumptuous +litter,[10] at the front of which a fair young female slave sat fanning +her through the curtains, with feathers of the Argus pheasant’s +wing;[11]—and the lovely troop of Tartarian and Cashmerian maids of +honour, whom the young King had sent to accompany his bride, and who +rode on each side of the litter, upon small Arabian horses:—all was +brilliant, tasteful, and magnificent, and pleased even the critical and +fastidious FADLADEEN, Great Nazir or Chamberlain of the Haram, who was +borne in his palankeen immediately after the Princess, and considered +himself not the least important personage of the pageant. + +FADLADEEN was a judge of everything,—from the pencilling of a +Circassian’s eyelids to the deepest questions of science and literature; +from the mixture of a conserve of rose-leaves to the composition of an +epic poem: and such influence had his opinion upon the various tastes of +the day, that all the cooks and poets of Delhi stood in awe of him. His +political conduct and opinions were founded upon that line of +Sadi,—“Should the Prince at noon-day say, It is night, declare that you +behold the moon and stars.”—And his zeal for religion; of which +Aurungzebe was a munificent protector,[12] was about as disinterested as +that of the goldsmith who fell in love with the diamond eyes of the Idol +of Jaghernaut.[13] + +During the first days of their journey, LALLA ROOKH, who had passed all +her life within the shadow of the Royal Gardens of Delhi,[14] found +enough in the beauty of the scenery through which they passed to +interest her mind, and delight her imagination; and when at evening, or +in the heat of the day, they turned off from the high road to those +retired and romantic places which had been selected for her encampments, +sometimes on the banks of a small rivulet, as clear as the waters of the +Lake of Pearl;[15] sometimes under the sacred shade of a Banyan tree, +from which the view opened upon a glade covered with antelopes; and +often in those hidden, embowered spots, described by one from the Isles +of the West,[16] as “places of melancholy, delight, and safety, where +all the company around was wild peacocks and turtle-doves;”—she felt a +charm in these scenes, so lovely and so new to her, which, for a time, +made her indifferent to every other amusement. But LALLA ROOKH was +young, and the young love variety; nor could the conversation of her +Ladies and the great Chamberlain, FADLADEEN, (the only persons, of +course, admitted to her pavilion,) sufficiently enliven those many +vacant hours, which were devoted neither to the pillow nor the +palankeen. There was a little Persian slave who sung sweetly to the +Vina, and who, now and then, lulled the Princess to sleep with the +ancient ditties of her country, about the loves of Wamak and Ezra,[17] +the fair-haired Zal and his mistress Rodahver;[18] not forgetting the +combat of Rustam with the terrible White Demon.[19] At other times she +was amused by those graceful dancing-girls of Delhi, who had been +permitted by the Bramins of the Great Pagoda to attend her, much to the +horror of the good Mussulman FADLADEEN, who could see nothing graceful +or agreeable in idolaters, and to whom the very tinkling of their golden +anklets[20] was an abomination. + +But these and many other diversions were repeated till they lost all +their charm, and the nights and noondays were beginning to move heavily, +when, at length, it was recollected that, among the attendants sent by +the bridegroom, was a young poet of Cashmere, much celebrated throughout +the valley for his manner of reciting the Stories of the East, on whom +his Royal Master had conferred the privilege of being admitted to the +pavilion of the Princess, that he might help to beguile the tediousness +of the journey by some of his most agreeable recitals. At the mention of +a poet, FADLADEEN elevated his critical eyebrows, and, having refreshed +his faculties with a dose of that delicious opium[21] which is distilled +from the black poppy of the Thebais, gave orders for the minstrel to be +forthwith introduced into the presence. + +The Princess, who had once in her life seen a poet from behind the +screens of gauze in her Father’s hall, and had conceived from that +specimen no very favourable ideas of the Caste, expected but little in +this new exhibition to interest her;—she felt inclined, however, to +alter her opinion on the very first appearance of FERAMORZ. He was a +youth about LALLA ROOKH’S own age, and graceful as that idol of women, +Crishna,[22]—such as he appears to their young imaginations, heroic, +beautiful, breathing music from his very eyes, and exalting the religion +of his worshippers into love. His dress was simple, yet not without some +marks of costliness; and the ladies of the Princess were not long in +discovering that the cloth, which encircled his high Tartarian cap, was +of the most delicate kind that the shawl-goats of Tibet supply.[23] Here +and there, too, over his vest, which was confined by a flowered girdle +of Kashan, hung strings of fine pearl, disposed with an air of studied +negligence:—nor did the exquisite embroidery of his sandals escape the +observation of these fair critics; who, however they might give way to +FADLADEEN upon the unimportant topics of religion and government, had +the spirit of martyrs in every thing relating to such momentous matters +as jewels and embroidery. + +For the purpose of relieving the pauses of recitation by music, the +young Cashmerian held in his hand a kitar;—such as, in old times, the +Arab maids of the West used to listen to by moonlight in the gardens of +the Alhambra—and, having premised, with much humility, that the story he +was about to relate was founded on the adventures of that Veiled Prophet +of Khorassan,[24] who, in the year of the Hegira 163, created such alarm +throughout the Eastern Empire, made an obeisance to the Princess, and +thus began:— + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + The Veiled Prophet of Khorassan[25] + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + In that delightful Province of the Sun, + The first of Persian lands he shines upon, + Where all the loveliest children of his beam, + Flow’rets and fruits, blush over every stream,[26] + And, fairest of all streams, the MURGA roves + Among MEROU’S[27] bright palaces and groves;— + There on that throne, to which the blind belief + Of millions rais’d him, sat the Prophet-Chief, + The Great MOKANNA. O’er his features hung + The Veil, the Silver Veil, which he had flung + In mercy there, to hide from mortal sight + His dazzling brow, till man could bear its light. + For, far less luminous, his votaries said, + Were ev’n the gleams, miraculously shed + O’er MOUSSA’S[28] cheek,[29] when down the Mount he trod, + All glowing from the presence of his God! + + On either side, with ready hearts and hands, + His chosen guard of bold Believers stands; + Young fire-eyed disputants, who deem their swords, + On points of faith, more eloquent than words; + And such their zeal, there’s not a youth with brand + Uplifted there, but, at the Chief’s command, + Would make his own devoted heart its sheath, + And bless the lips that doom’d so dear a death! + In hatred to the Caliph’s hue of night,[30] + Their vesture, helms and all, is snowy white; + Their weapons various—some equipp’d for speed, + With javelins of the light Kathaian reed;[31] + Or bows of buffalo horn and shining quivers + Fill’d with the stems[32] that bloom on IRAN’S rivers;[33] + While some, for war’s more terrible attacks, + Wield the huge mace and ponderous battle-axe; + And as they wave aloft in morning’s beam + The milk-white plumage of their helms, they seem + Like a chenar-tree grove,[34] when winter throws + O’er all its tufted heads his feathering snows. + + Between the porphyry pillars, that uphold + The rich moresque-work of the roof of gold, + Aloft the Haram’s curtain’d galleries rise, + Where, through the silken net-work, glancing eyes, + From time to time, like sudden gleams that glow + Through autumn clouds, shine o’er the pomp below.— + What impious tongue, ye blushing saints, would dare + To hint that aught but Heaven hath plac’d you there? + Or that the loves of this light world could bind, + In their gross chain, your Prophet’s soaring mind? + No—wrongful thought!—commission’d from above + To people Eden’s bowers with shapes of love, + (Creatures so bright, that the same lips and eyes + They wear on earth will serve in Paradise,) + There to recline among Heaven’s native maids, + And crown the’ Elect with bliss that never fades— + Well hath the Prophet-Chief his bidding done; + And every beauteous race beneath the sun, + From those who kneel at BRAHMA’S burning founts,[35] + To the fresh nymphs bounding o’er YEMEN’S mounts; + From PERSIA’S eyes of full and fawn-like ray + To the small, half-shut glances of KATHAY;[36] + And GEORGIA’S bloom, and AZAB’S darker smiles, + And the gold ringlets of the Western Isles; + All, all are there;—each Land its flower hath given, + To form that fair young Nursery for Heaven! + + But why this pageant now? this arm’d array? + What triumph crowds the rich Divan to-day + With turban’d heads, of every hue and race, + Bowing before that veil’d and awful face, + Like tulip-beds,[37] of different shape and dyes, + Bending beneath the’ invisible West-wind’s sighs! + What new-made mystery now, for Faith to sign, + And blood to seal, as genuine and divine, + What dazzling mimickry of God’s own power + Hath the bold Prophet plann’d to grace this hour? + + Not such the pageant now, though not less proud; + Yon warrior youth, advancing from the crowd, + With silver bow, with belt of broider’d crape, + And fur-bound bonnet of Bucharian shape,[38] + So fiercely beautiful in form and eye, + Like war’s wild planet in a summer sky; + That youth to-day,—a proselyte, worth hordes + Of cooler spirits and less practis’d swords,— + Is come to join, all bravery and belief, + The creed and standard of the heaven-sent Chief. + + Though few his years, the West already knows + Young AZIM’S fame;—beyond the’ Olympian snows, + Ere manhood darken’d o’er his downy cheek, + O’erwhelm’d in fight and captive to the Greek,[39] + He linger’d there, till peace dissolv’d his chains;— + Oh, who could, even in bondage, tread the plains + Of glorious GREECE, nor feel his spirit rise + Kindling within him? who, with heart and eyes, + Could walk where Liberty had been, nor see + The shining foot-prints of her Deity, + Nor feel those godlike breathings in the air, + Which mutely told her spirit had been there? + Not he, that youthful warrior,—no, too well + For his soul’s quiet work’d the’ awakening spell; + And now, returning to his own dear land, + Full of those dreams of good that, vainly grand, + Haunt the young heart,—proud views of human-kind, + Of men to Gods exalted and refin’d,— + False views, like that horizon’s fair deceit, + Where earth and heaven but _seem_, alas, to meet!— + Soon as he heard an Arm Divine was rais’d + To right the nations, and beheld, emblaz’d + On the white flag MOKANNA’S host unfurl’d, + Those words of sunshine, “Freedom to the World,” + At once his faith, his sword, his soul obey’d + The’ inspiring summons; every chosen blade + That fought beneath that banner’s sacred text + Seem’d doubly edg’d, for this world and the next; + And ne’er did Faith with her smooth bandage bind + Eyes more devoutly willing to be blind, + In virtue’s cause;—never was soul inspir’d + With livelier trust in what it most desir’d, + Than his, the’ enthusiast there, who kneeling, pale + With pious awe, before that Silver Veil, + Believes the form, to which he bends his knee, + Some pure, redeeming angel, sent to free + This fetter’d world from every bond and stain, + And bring its primal glories back again! + + Low as young AZIM knelt, that motley crowd + Of all earth’s nations sunk the knee and bow’d, + With shouts of “ALLA!” echoing long and loud; + While high in air, above the Prophet’s head, + Hundreds of banners, to the sunbeam spread, + Wav’d, like the wings of the white birds that fan + The flying throne of star-taught SOLIMAN.[40] + Then thus he spoke:—“Stranger, though new the frame + “Thy soul inhabits now, I’ve track’d its flame + “For many an age,[41] in every chance and change + “Of that existence, through whose varied range,— + “As through a torch-race, where, from hand to hand, + “The flying youths transmit their shining brand,— + “From frame to frame the unextinguish’d soul + “Rapidly passes, till it reach the goal! + + “Nor think ’tis only the gross Spirits, warm’d + “With duskier fire and for earth’s medium form’d, + “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 Heaven, except the Proud One, knelt:[42] + “Such the refin’d Intelligence that glow’d + “In MOUSSA’S[43] frame,—and, thence descending, flow’d + “Through many a Prophet’s breast;[44]—in ISSA[45] 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 the’ assembly, at these words, + Thousands of voices rung: the warriors’ swords + Were pointed up to heaven; a sudden wind + In the’ open banners played, 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 beck’ning 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 daylight 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 tasks 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 thrilled 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, + 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 the’ aërial 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 the’ 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 BOKHARA’S groves, + Who had not heard of their first youthful loves? + Born by that ancient flood,[46] 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 the’ 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 + Even summer suns, when not beheld with him! + From time to time ill-omen’d rumours came, + Like spirit-tongues mutt’ring the sick man’s name, + Just ere he dies:—at length those sounds of dread + Fell with’ring 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, + Even reason sunk,—blighted 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 turned astray;— + A wand’ring bark, upon whose pathway shone + All stars of heaven, 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 ecstasy, half pain, + The bulbul[47] utters, ere 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, + To grace that galaxy of lips and eyes + Which the Veil’d Prophet destined for the skies:— + And such quick welcome as a spark receives + Dropp’d on a bed of Autumn’s withered 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, + Of some brave youth—ha! durst they say “of _some_?” + 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 every broken link of her lost mind; + Whose image lives, though Reason’s self be wreck’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 hadst an amulet + In the lov’d image, graven on thy heart, + Which would have sav’d thee from the tempter’s art, + And kept alive, in all its bloom of breath, + That purity, whose fading is love’s death!— + But lost, inflamed,—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 the’ Impostor nurs’d + Her soul’s delirium, in whose active flame, + Thus lighting up a young, luxuriant frame, + 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 ecstasy by turns— + That gloom, through which Frenzy but fiercer burns; + That ecstasy, 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 heaven, 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, + In joy or sorrow from his side to sever.— + She swore, and the wide charnel echoed, “Never, never!” + + From that dread hour, entirely, wildly given + To him and—she believ’d, lost maid!—to Heaven; + Her brain, her heart, her passions all inflam’d, + 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 + As are the momentary meteors sent + Across the’ 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; + In ev’ry 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, + Had wept as dead, before her breath’d and mov’d;— + 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. + + O 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 ecstasy,) + 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 echoed every tone + Of the dire oath that made her all his own, + The’ Impostor, sure of his infatuate prize, + Had, more than once, thrown off his soul’s disguise, + And utter’d such unheavenly, monstrous things, + As even across the desp’rate wanderings + Of a weak intellect, whose lamp was out, + Threw startling shadows of dismay and doubt;— + 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, + Even purer than before,—as perfumes rise + Through flame and smoke, most welcome to the skies— + And that when AZIM’S fond, divine embrace + Should circle her in heaven, no dark’ning trace + 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 even 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, pond’ring alone his impious schemes, + MOKANNA waited her—too wrapt in dreams + Of the fair-rip’ning 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 the’ unechoing ground,— + From that wild ZELICA, whose every glance + Was thrilling fire, whose every thought a trance! + + Upon his couch the Veil’d MOKANNA lay, + While lamps around—not such as lend their ray, + Glimmering and cold, to those who nightly pray + In holy KOOM,[48] or MECCA’S dim arcades,— + But brilliant, soft, such lights 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 mus’d on there, + Stood vases, fill’d with KISHMEE’S[49] 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,[50] had power + To freshen the soul’s virtues into flower! + And still he drank and ponder’d—nor could see + The’ approaching maid, so deep his reverie; + At length, with fiendish laugh, like that which broke + From EBLIS at the Fall of Man, he spoke:— + “Yes, ye vile race, for hell’s amusement given, + “Too mean for earth, yet claiming kin with heaven; + “God’s images, forsooth!—such gods as he + “Whom INDIA serves, the monkey deity;—[51] + “Ye creatures of a breath, proud things of clay, + “To whom if LUCIFER, as grandams say, + “Refus’d, though at the forfeit of heaven’s light, + “To bend in worship, LUCIFER was right!—[52] + “Soon shall I plant this foot upon the neck + “Of your foul race, and without fear or check, + “Luxuriating in hate, avenge my shame, + “My deep-felt, long-nurst loathing of man’s name! + “Soon at the head of myriads, blind and fierce + “As hooded falcons, through the universe + “I’ll sweep my dark’ning, desolating way, + “Weak man my instrument, curst man my prey! + + “Ye wise, ye learn’d, who grope your dull way on + “By the dim twinkling gleams of ages gone, + “Like superstitious thieves, who think the light + “From dead men’s marrow guides them best at night—[53] + “Ye shall have honours—wealth,—yes, Sages, yes— + “I know, grave fools, your wisdom’s nothingness; + “Undazzled it can track yon starry sphere, + “But a gilt stick, a bawble blinds it here. + “How I shall laugh, when trumpeted along, + “In lying speech, and still more lying song, + “By these learn’d slaves, the meanest of the throng; + “Their wits bought up, their wisdom shrunk so small, + “A sceptre’s puny point can wield it all! + + “Ye too, believers of incredible creeds, + “Whose faith enshrines the monsters which it breeds; + “Who, bolder even than NEMROD, think to rise, + “By nonsense heap’d on nonsense, to the skies; + “Ye shall have miracles, ay, sound ones too, + “Seen, heard, attested, ev’ry thing—but true. + “Your preaching zealots, too inspir’d to seek + “One grace of meaning for the things they speak; + “Your martyrs, ready to shed out their blood, + “For truths too heavenly to be understood; + “And your State Priests, sole vendors of the lore + “That works salvation;—as, on AVA’S shore, + “Where none _but_ priests are privileg’d to trade + “In that best marble of which Gods are made;[54] + “They shall have mysteries—ay, precious stuff + “For knaves to thrive by—mysteries enough; + “Dark, tangled doctrines, dark as fraud can weave, + “Which simple votaries shall on trust receive, + “While craftier feign belief, till they believe. + “A Heaven too ye must have, ye lords of dust,— + “A splendid Paradise,—pure souls, ye must: + “That Prophet ill sustains his holy call, + “Who finds not heavens to suit the tastes of all; + “Houris for boys, omniscience for sages, + “And wings and glories for all ranks and ages. + “Vain things!—as lust or vanity inspires, + “The Heaven of each is but what each desires, + “And, soul or sense, whate’er the object be, + “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.” + + “Oh 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, + “Oh my 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, ’twere 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 pale, + “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; + “’Twill 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 rul’d by that cold enemy of bliss + “The world calls virtue—we must conquer this;— + “Nay, shrink not, pretty sage! ’tis 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 soft’ning 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!—though each nymph of these + “Hath some peculiar, practis’d 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; + “Through whom all beauty’s beams concentred pass, + “Dazzling and warm, as through love’s burning glass; + “Whose gentle lips persuade without a word, + “Whose words, ev’n when unmeaning, are ador’d, + “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 refin’d 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;[55] + So boldly utter’d too! as if all dread + Of frowns from her, of virtuous frowns, were fled, + And the wretch felt assur’d that, once plung’d 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 whom + “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 lov’d—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 warm, + “_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 made + “For love, not anger—I must be obey’d.” + + “Obey’d!—’tis 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 me; + “No—he’s all truth and strength and purity! + “Fill up your madd’ning hell-cup to the brim, + “Its witch’ry, 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 debas’d, how sunk is she, + “Whom once he lov’d—once!—_still_ loves dotingly. + “Thou laugh’st, tormentor,—what!—thou’lt brand my name? + “Do, do—in vain—he’ll not believe my shame— + “He thinks me true, that nought beneath God’s sky + “Could tempt or change me, and—so once thought I. + “But this is past—though worse than death my lot, + “Than hell—’tis nothing while _he_ knows it not. + “Far off to some benighted land I’ll fly, + “Where sunbeam ne’er shall enter till I die; + “Where none will ask the lost one whence she came, + “But I may fade and fall without a name. + “And thou—curst man or fiend, whate’er thou art, + “Who found’st this burning plague-spot in my heart, + “And spread’st it—oh, so quick!—through soul and frame, + “With more than demon’s art, till I became + “A loathsome thing, all pestilence, all flame!— + “If when I’m gone⸺” + + “Hold, fearless maniac, hold, + “Nor tempt my rage—by Heaven, not half so bold + “The puny bird, that dares with teasing hum + “Within the crocodile’s stretch’d jaws to come![56] + “And so thou’lt fly, forsooth?—what!—give up all + “Thy chaste dominion in the Haram Hall, + “Where now to Love and now to ALLA given, + “Half mistress and half saint, thou hang’st as even + “As doth MEDINA’S tomb, ’twixt hell and heaven! + “Thou’lt fly!—as easily may reptiles run, + “The gaunt snake once hath fix’d his eyes upon; + “As easily, when caught, the prey may be + “Pluck’d from his loving folds, as thou from me. + “No, no, ’tis fix’d—let good or ill betide, + “Thou’rt mine till death, till death MOKANNA’S bride! + “Hast thou forgot thy oath?” + + At this dread word, + The Maid, whose spirit his rude taunts had stirr’d + Through all its depth, and rous’d an anger there, + That burst and lighten’d ev’n through her despair— + Shrunk back, as if a blight were in the breath + That spoke that word, and stagger’d, pale as death. + + “Yes, my sworn bride, let others seek in bowers + “Their bridal place—the charnel vault was ours! + “Instead of scents and balms, for thee and me + “Rose the rich steams of sweet mortality; + “Gay, flickering death-lights shone while we were wed, + “And, for our guests, a row of goodly Dead. + “(Immortal spirits in their time, no doubt,) + “From reeking shrouds upon the rite look’d out! + “That oath thou heard’st more lips than thine repeat— + “That cup—thou shudd’rest, Lady,—was it sweet? + “That cup we pledg’d, the charnel’s choicest wine, + “Hath bound thee—ay—body and soul all mine; + “Bound thee by chains that, whether blest or curst + “No matter now, not hell itself shall burst! + “Hence, woman, to the Haram, and look gay, + “Look wild, look—any thing but sad; yet stay— + “One moment more—from what this night hath pass’d, + “I see thou know’st me, know’st me _well_ at last. + “Ha! ha! and so, fond thing, thou thought’st all true, + “And that I love mankind?—I do, I do— + “As victims, love them; as the sea-dog doats + “Upon the small, sweet fry that round him floats; + “Or, as the Nile-bird loves the slime that gives + “That rank and venomous food on which she lives![57]— + + “And, now thou seest my _soul’s_ angelic hue, + “’Tis time these _features_ were uncurtain’d too;— + “This brow, whose light—oh rare celestial light! + “Hath been reserv’d to bless thy favour’d sight; + “These dazzling eyes, before whose shrouded might + “Thou’st seen immortal Man kneel down and quake— + “Would that they _were_ heaven’s lightnings for his sake! + “But turn and look—then wonder, if thou wilt, + “That I should hate, should take revenge, by guilt, + “Upon the hand, whose mischief or whose mirth + “Sent me thus maim’d and monstrous upon earth; + “And on that race who, though more vile they be + “Than mowing apes, are demi-gods to me! + “Here—judge if hell, with all its power to damn, + “Can add one curse to the foul thing I am!” + + He raised his veil—the Maid turn’d slowly round, + Look’d at him—shriek’d—and sunk upon the ground! + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + +On their arrival, next night, at the place of encampment, they were +surprised and delighted to find the groves all around illuminated; some +artists of Yamtcheou[58] having been sent on previously for the purpose. +On each side of the green alley, which led to the Royal Pavilion, +artificial sceneries of bamboo-work[59] were erected, representing +arches, minarets, and towers, from which hung thousands of silken +lanterns, painted by the most delicate pencils of Canton.—Nothing could +be more beautiful than the leaves of the mango-trees and acacias, +shining in the light of the bamboo-scenery, which shed a lustre round as +soft as that of the nights of Peristan. + +LALLA ROOKH, however, who was too much occupied by the sad story of +ZELICA and her lover, to give a thought to anything else, except, +perhaps, him who related it, hurried on through this scene of splendour +to her pavilion,—greatly to the mortification of the poor artists of +Yamtcheou,—and was followed with equal rapidity by the Great +Chamberlain, cursing, as he went, that ancient Mandarin, whose parental +anxiety in lighting up the shores of the lake, where his beloved +daughter had wandered and been lost, was the origin of these fantastic +Chinese illuminations.[60] + +Without a moment’s delay, young FERAMORZ was introduced, and FADLADEEN, +who could never make up his mind as to the merits of a poet till he knew +the religious sect to which he belonged, was about to ask him whether he +was a Shia or a Sooni, when LALLA ROOKH impatiently clapped her hands +for silence, and the youth, being seated upon the musnud near her, +proceeded:— + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + Prepare thy soul, young AZIM!—thou hast brav’d + The bands of GREECE, still mighty though enslav’d; + Hast fac’d her phalanx, arm’d with all its fame, + Her Macedonian pikes and globes of flame; + All this hast fronted, with firm heart and brow, + But a more perilous trial waits thee now,— + Woman’s bright eyes, a dazzling host of eyes + From every land where woman smiles or sighs; + Of every hue, as Love may chance to raise + His black or azure banner in their blaze; + And each sweet mode of warfare, from the flash + That lightens boldly through the shadowy lash, + To the sly, stealing splendours, almost hid, + Like swords half-sheath’d, beneath the downcast lid:— + Such, AZIM, is the lovely, luminous host + Now led against thee; and, let conquerors boast + Their fields of fame, he who in virtue arms + A young, warm spirit against beauty’s charms, + Who feels her brightness, yet defies her thrall, + Is the best, bravest conqueror of them all. + + Now, through the Haram chambers, moving lights + And busy shapes proclaim the toilet’s rites;— + From room to room the ready handmaids hie, + Some skill’d to wreath the turban tastefully, + Or hang the veil, in negligence of shade, + O’er the warm blushes of the youthful maid, + Who, if between the folds but _one_ eye shone, + Like SEBA’S Queen could vanquish with that one:—[61] + While some bring leaves of Henna, to imbue + The fingers’ ends with a bright roseate hue,[62] + So bright, that in the mirror’s depth they seem + Like tips of coral branches in the stream; + And others mix the Kohol’s jetty dye, + To give that long, dark languish to the eye,[63] + Which makes the maids, whom kings are proud to cull + From fair Circassia’s vales, so beautiful. + All is in motion; rings and plumes and pearls + Are shining every where:—some younger girls + Are gone by moonlight to the garden beds, + To gather fresh, cool chaplets for their heads;— + Gay creatures! sweet, though mournful, ’tis to see + How each prefers a garland from that tree + Which brings to mind her childhood’s innocent day, + And the dear fields and friendships far away. + The maid of INDIA, blest again to hold + In her full lap the Champac’s leaves of gold,[64] + Thinks of the time when, by the GANGES’ flood, + Her little playmates scatter’d many a bud + Upon her long black hair, with glossy gleam + Just dripping from the consecrated stream; + While the young Arab, haunted by the smell + Of her own mountain flowers, as by a spell,— + The sweet Elcaya,[65] and that courteous tree + Which bows to all who seek its canopy,[66] + Sees, call’d up round her by these magic scents, + The well, the camels, and her father’s tents; + Sighs for the home she left with little pain, + And wishes even its sorrows back again! + + Meanwhile, through vast illuminated halls, + Silent and bright, where nothing but the falls + Of fragrant waters, gushing with cool sound + From many a jasper fount, is heard around, + Young AZIM roams bewilder’d,—nor can guess + What means this maze of light and loneliness. + Here, the way leads, o’er tessellated floors + Or mats of CAIRO, through long corridors, + Where, rang’d in cassolets and silver urns, + Sweet wood of aloe or of sandal burns; + And spicy rods, such as illume at night + The bowers of TIBET,[67] send forth odorous light, + Like Peris’ wands, when pointing out the road + For some pure Spirit to its blest abode:— + And here, at once, the glittering saloon + Bursts on his sight, boundless and bright as noon; + Where, in the midst, reflecting back the rays + In broken rainbows, a fresh fountain plays + High as the’ enamell’d cupola, which towers + All rich with Arabesques of gold and flowers: + And the mosaic floor beneath shines through + The sprinkling of that fountain’s silv’ry dew, + Like the wet, glistening shells, of every dye, + That on the margin of the Red Sea lie. + + Here too he traces the kind visitings + Of woman’s love in those fair, living things + Of land and wave, whose fate—in bondage thrown + For their weak loveliness—is like her own! + On one side gleaming with a sudden grace + Through water, brilliant as the crystal vase + In which it undulates, small fishes shine, + Like golden ingots from a fairy mine;— + While, on the other, latticed lightly in + With odoriferous woods of COMORIN,[68] + Each brilliant bird that wings the air is seen;— + Gay, sparkling loories, such as gleam between + The crimson blossoms of the coral tree[69] + In the warm Isles of India’s sunny sea: + Mecca’s blue sacred pigeon,[70] and the thrush + Of Hindostan,[71] whose holy warblings gush, + At evening, from the tall pagoda’s top;— + Those golden birds that, in the spice-time, drop + About the gardens, drunk with that sweet food[72] + Whose scent hath lur’d them o’er the summer flood;[73] + And those that under Araby’s soft sun + Build their high nests of budding cinnamon:[74] + In short, all rare and beauteous things, that fly + Through the pure element, here calmly lie + Sleeping in light, like the green birds[75] that dwell + In Eden’s radiant fields of asphodel! + + So on, through scenes past all imagining, + More like the luxuries of that impious King,[76] + Whom Death’s dark angel, with his lightning torch, + Struck down and blasted even in Pleasure’s porch, + Than the pure dwelling of a Prophet sent, + Arm’d with Heaven’s sword, for man’s enfranchisement— + Young AZIM wander’d, looking sternly round, + His simple garb and war-boots’ clanking sound + But ill according with the pomp and grace + And silent lull of that voluptuous place. + + “Is this, then,” thought the youth, “is this the way + “To free man’s spirit from the dead’ning sway + “Of worldly sloth,—to teach him while he lives, + “To know no bliss but that which virtue gives, + “And when he dies, to leave his lofty name + “A light, a landmark on the cliffs of fame? + “It was not so, Land of the generous thought + “And daring deed, thy godlike sages taught; + “It was not thus, in bowers of wanton ease, + “Thy Freedom nurs’d her sacred energies; + “Oh! not beneath the’ enfeebling, withering glow + “Of such dull luxury did those myrtles grow, + “With which she wreath’d her sword, when she would dare + “Immortal deeds; but in the bracing air + “Of toil,—of temperance,—of that high, rare, + “Ethereal virtue, which alone can breathe + “Life, health, and lustre into Freedom’s wreath. + “Who, that surveys this span of earth we press,— + “This speck of life in time’s great wilderness, + “This narrow isthmus ’twixt two boundless seas, + “The past, the future, two eternities!— + “Would sully the bright spot, or leave it bare, + “When he might build him a proud temple there, + “A name, that long shall hallow all its space, + “And be each purer soul’s high resting-place? + “But no—it cannot be, that one, whom God + “Hath sent to break the wizard Falsehood’s rod,— + “A Prophet of the Truth, whose mission draws + “Its rights from Heaven, should thus profane its cause + “With the world’s vulgar pomps;—no, no,—I see— + “He thinks me weak—this glare of luxury + “Is but to tempt, to try the eaglet gaze + “Of my young soul—shine on, ’twill stand the blaze!” + + So thought the youth;—but, ev’n while he defied + This witching scene, he felt its witchery glide + Through ev’ry sense. The perfume breathing round, + Like a pervading spirit;—the still sound + Of falling waters, lulling as the song + Of Indian bees at sunset, when they throng + Around the fragrant NILICA, and deep + In its blue blossoms hum themselves to sleep;[77] + And music, too—dear music! that can touch + Beyond all else the soul that loves it much— + Now heard far off, so far as but to seem + Like the faint, exquisite music of a dream; + All was too much for him, too full of bliss, + The heart could nothing feel, that felt not this; + Soften’d he sunk upon a couch, and gave + His soul up to sweet thoughts, like wave on wave + Succeeding to smooth seas, when storms are laid; + He thought of ZELICA, his own dear maid, + And of the time, when, full of blissful sighs, + They sat and look’d into each other’s eyes, + Silent and happy—as if God had given + Nought else worth looking at on this side heaven. + + “Oh, my lov’d mistress, thou, whose spirit still + “Is with me, round me, wander where I will— + “It is for thee, for thee alone I seek + “The paths of glory; to light up thy cheek + “With warm approval—in that gentle look + “To read my praise, as in an angel’s book, + “And think all toils rewarded, when from thee + “I gain a smile worth immortality! + “How shall I bear the moment when restor’d + “To that young heart where I alone am Lord, + “Though of such bliss unworthy,—since the best + “Alone deserve to be the happiest;— + “When from those lips, unbreath’d upon for years, + “I shall again kiss off the soul-felt tears, + “And find those tears warm as when last they started, + “Those sacred kisses pure as when we parted? + “O my own life!—why should a single day, + “A moment keep me from those arms away?” + + While thus he thinks, still nearer on the breeze + Come those delicious, dream-like harmonies, + Each note of which but adds new, downy links + To the soft chain in which his spirit sinks. + He turns him tow’rd the sound, and far away + Through a long vista, sparkling with the play + Of countless lamps,—like the rich track which Day + Leaves on the waters, when he sinks from us, + So long the path, its light so tremulous;— + He sees a group of female forms advance, + Some chain’d together in the mazy dance + By fetters, forg’d in the green sunny bowers, + As they were captives to the King of Flowers;[78] + And some disporting round, unlink’d and free, + Who seem’d to mock their sisters’ slavery; + And round and round them still, in wheeling flight, + Went, like gay moths about a lamp at night; + While others walk’d, as gracefully along + Their feet kept time, the very soul of song, + From psaltery, pipe, and lutes of heavenly thrill, + Or their own youthful voices, heavenlier still. + And now they come, now pass before his eye, + Forms such as Nature moulds, when she would vie + With Fancy’s pencil, and give birth to things + Lovely beyond its fairest picturings. + Awhile they dance before him, then divide, + Breaking, like rosy clouds at even-tide + Around the rich pavilion of the sun,— + Till silently dispersing, one by one + Through many a path, that from the chamber leads + To gardens, terraces, and moonlight meads, + Their distant laughter comes upon the wind, + And but one trembling nymph remains behind,— + Beck’ning them back in vain, for they are gone, + And she is left in all that light alone; + No veil to curtain o’er her beauteous brow, + In its young bashfulness more beauteous now; + But a light golden chain-work round her hair,[79] + Such as the maids of YEZD[80] and SHIRAS wear, + From which, on either side, gracefully hung + A golden amulet, in the Arab tongue, + Engraven o’er with some immortal line + From Holy Writ, or bard scarce less divine; + While her left hand, as shrinkingly she stood, + Held a small lute of gold and sandal-wood, + Which, once or twice, she touch’d with hurried strain, + Then took her trembling fingers off again. + But when at length a timid glance she stole + At AZIM, the sweet gravity of soul + She saw through all his features calm’d her fear, + And, like a half-tam’d antelope, more near, + Though shrinking still, she came;—then sat her down + Upon a musnud’s[81] edge, and, bolder grown, + In the pathetic mode of ISFAHAN[82] + Touch’d a preluding strain, and thus began:— + + + -------------- + + + There’s a bower of roses by BENDEMEER’S[83] stream, + And the nightingale sings round it all the day long; + In the time of my childhood ’twas like a sweet dream, + To sit in the roses and hear the bird’s song. + + That bower and its music I never forget, + But oft when alone in the bloom of the year, + I think—is the nightingale singing there yet? + Are the roses still bright by the calm BENDEMEER? + + No, the roses soon wither’d that hung o’er the wave, + But some blossoms were gather’d, while freshly they shone, + And a dew was distill’d from their flowers, that gave + All the fragrance of summer, when summer was gone. + + Thus memory draws from delight, ere it dies, + An essence that breathes of it many a year; + Thus bright to my soul, as ’twas then to my eyes, + Is that bower on the banks of the calm BENDEMEER. + + + -------------- + + + “Poor maiden!” thought the youth, “if thou wert sent, + “With thy soft lute and beauty’s blandishment, + “To wake unholy wishes in this heart, + “Or tempt its truth, thou little know’st the art. + “For though thy lip should sweetly counsel wrong, + “Those vestal eyes would disavow its song. + “But thou hast breath’d such purity, thy lay + “Returns so fondly to youth’s virtuous day, + “And leads thy soul—if e’er it wander’d thence— + “So gently back to its first innocence, + “That I would sooner stop the unchained dove, + “When swift returning to its home of love, + “And round its snowy wing new fetters twine, + “Than turn from virtue one pure wish of thine!” + + Scarce had this feeling pass’d, when, sparkling through + The gently open’d curtains of light blue + That veil’d the breezy casement, countless eyes, + Peeping like stars through the blue evening skies, + Look’d laughing in, as if to mock the pair + That sat so still and melancholy there:— + And now the curtains fly apart, and in + From the cool air, ’mid showers of jessamine + Which those without fling after them in play, + Two lightsome maidens spring,—lightsome as they + Who live in the’ air on odours,—and around + The bright saloon, scarce conscious of the ground, + Chase one another, in a varying dance + Of mirth and languor, coyness and advance, + Too eloquently like love’s warm pursuit:— + While she, who sung so gently to the lute + Her dream of home, steals timidly away, + Shrinking as violets do in summer’s ray,— + But takes with her from AZIM’S heart that sigh + We sometimes give to forms that pass us by + In the world’s crowd, too lovely to remain, + Creatures of light we never see again! + + Around the white necks of the nymphs who danc’d + Hung carcanets of orient gems, that glanc’d + More brilliant than the sea-glass glittering o’er + The hills of crystal on the Caspian shore;[84] + While from their long, dark tresses, in a fall + Of curls descending, bells as musical + As those that, on the golden-shafted trees + Of EDEN, shake in the eternal breeze,[85] + Rung round their steps, at every bound more sweet, + As ’twere the’ extatic language of their feet. + At length the chase was o’er, and they stood wreath’d + Within each other’s arms; while soft there breath’d + Through the cool casement, mingled with the sighs + Of moonlight flowers, music that seem’d to rise + From some still lake, so liquidly it rose; + And, as it swell’d again at each faint close, + The ear could track, through all that maze of chords + And young sweet voices, these impassion’d words;— + + + -------------- + + + A SPIRIT there is, whose fragrant sigh + Is burning now through earth and air: + Where cheeks are blushing, the Spirit is nigh; + Where lips are meeting, the Spirit is there! + + His breath is the soul of flowers like these, + And his floating eyes—oh! _they_ resemble[86] + Blue water-lilies,[87] when the breeze + Is making the stream around them tremble. + + Hail to thee, hail to thee, kindling power! + Spirit of Love, Spirit of Bliss! + Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour, + And there never was moonlight so sweet as this. + + By the fair and brave + Who blushing unite, + Like the sun and wave, + When they meet at night; + + By the tear that shows + When passion is nigh, + As the rain-drop flows + From the heat of the sky; + + By the first love-beat + Of the youthful heart, + By the bliss to meet, + And the pain to part; + + By all that thou hast + To mortals given, + Which—oh, could it last, + This earth were heaven! + + We call thee hither, entrancing Power! + Spirit of Love! Spirit of Bliss! + Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour, + And there never was moonlight so sweet as this. + + + -------------- + + + Impatient of a scene, whose luxuries stole, + Spite of himself, too deep into his soul, + And where, midst all that the young heart loves most, + Flowers, music, smiles, to yield was to be lost, + The youth had started up, and turn’d away + From the light nymphs, and their luxurious lay, + To muse upon the pictures that hung round,—[88] + Bright images, that spoke without a sound, + And views, like vistas into fairy ground. + But here again new spells came o’er his sense:— + All that the pencil’s mute omnipotence + Could call up into life, of soft and fair, + Of fond and passionate, was glowing there; + Nor yet too warm, but touched with that fine art + Which paints of pleasure but the purer part; + Which knows even Beauty when half-veil’d is best,— + Like her own radiant planet of the west, + Whose orb when half retir’d looks loveliest.[89] + _There_ hung the history of the Genii-King, + Traced through each gay, voluptuous wandering + With her from SABA’S bowers, in whose bright eyes + He read that to be blest is to be wise;—[90] + _Here_ fond ZULEIKA[91] woos with open arms + The Hebrew boy, who flies from her young charms, + Yet, flying, turns to gaze, and, half undone, + Wishes that Heaven and she could _both_ be won; + And here MOHAMMED, born for love and guile, + Forgets the Koran in his MARY’S smile;— + Then beckons some kind angel from above + With a new text to consecrate their love.[92] + + With rapid step, yet pleas’d and ling’ring eye, + Did the youth pass these pictur’d stories by, + And hasten’d to a casement, where the light + Of the calm moon came in, and freshly bright + The fields without were seen, sleeping as still + As if no life remain’d in breeze or rill. + Here paus’d he, while the music, now less near, + Breath’d with a holier language on his ear, + As though the distance, and that heavenly ray + Through which the sounds came floating, took away + All that had been too earthly in the lay. + + Oh! could he listen to such sounds unmov’d, + And by that light—nor dream of her he lov’d? + Dream on, unconscious boy! while yet thou may’st; + ’Tis the last bliss thy soul shall ever taste. + Clasp yet awhile her image to thy heart, + Ere all the light, that made it dear, depart. + Think of her smiles as when thou saw’st them last, + Clear, beautiful, by nought of earth o’ercast; + Recall her tears, to thee at parting given, + Pure as they weep, _if_ angels weep, in Heaven. + Think, in her own still bower she waits thee now, + With the same glow of heart and bloom of brow, + Yet shrin’d in solitude—thine all, thine only, + Like the one star above thee, bright and lonely. + Oh! that a dream so sweet, so long enjoy’d, + Should be so sadly, cruelly destroy’d! + + The song is hush’d, the laughing nymphs are flown, + And he is left, musing of bliss, alone;— + Alone?—no, not alone—that heavy sigh, + That sob of grief, which broke from some one nigh— + Whose could it be?—alas! is misery found + Here, even here, on this enchanted ground? + He turns, and sees a female form, close veil’d, + Leaning, as if both heart and strength had fail’d, + Against a pillar near;—not glittering o’er + With gems and wreaths, such as the others wore, + But in that deep-blue, melancholy dress,[93] + BOKHARA’S maidens wear in mindfulness + Of friends or kindred, dead or far away;— + And such as ZELICA had on that day + He left her—when, with heart too full to speak, + He took away her last warm tears upon his cheek. + + A strange emotion stirs within him,—more + Than mere compassion ever wak’d before; + Unconsciously he opes his arms, while she + Springs forward, as with life’s last energy, + But, swooning in that one convulsive bound, + Sinks, ere she reach his arms, upon the ground;— + Her veil falls off—her faint hands clasp his knees— + ’Tis she herself!—’tis ZELICA he sees! + But, ah, so pale, so chang’d—none but a lover + Could in that wreck of beauty’s shrine discover + The once ador’d divinity—even he + Stood for some moments mute, and doubtingly + Put back the ringlets from her brow, and gaz’d + Upon those lids, where once such lustre blaz’d, + Ere he could think she was _indeed_ his own, + Own darling maid, whom he so long had known + In joy and sorrow, beautiful in both; + Who, even when grief was heaviest—when loth + He left her for the wars—in that worst hour + Sat in her sorrow like the sweet night-flower,[94] + When darkness brings its weeping glories out, + And spreads its sighs like frankincense about. + + “Look up, my ZELICA—one moment show + “Those gentle eyes to me, that I may know + “Thy life, thy loveliness is not all gone, + “But _there_, at least, shines as it ever shone. + “Come, look upon thy AZIM—one dear glance, + “Like those of old, were heaven! whatever chance + “Hath brought thee here, oh, ’twas a blessed one! + “There—my lov’d lips—they move—that kiss hath run + “Like the first shoot of life through every vein, + “And now I clasp her, mine, all mine again. + “Oh the delight—now, in this very hour, + “When had the whole rich world been in my power, + “I should have singled out thee, only thee, + “From the whole world’s collected treasury— + “To have thee here—to hang thus fondly o’er + “My own, best, purest ZELICA once more!” + + It was indeed the touch of those fond lips + Upon her eyes that chas’d their short eclipse, + And, gradual as the snow, at Heaven’s breath, + Melts off and shows the azure flowers beneath, + Her lids unclos’d, and the bright eyes were seen + Gazing on his—not, as they late had been, + Quick, restless, wild, but mournfully serene; + As if to lie, even for that tranced minute, + So near his heart, had consolation in it; + And thus to wake in his belov’d caress + Took from her soul one half its wretchedness. + But, when she heard him call her good and pure, + Oh, ’twas too much—too dreadful to endure! + Shudd’ring she broke away from his embrace, + And, hiding with both hands her guilty face, + Said, in a tone whose anguish would have riven + A heart of very marble, “Pure!—oh Heaven!”— + + That tone—those looks so chang’d—the withering blight, + That sin and sorrow leave where’er they light; + The dead despondency of those sunk eyes, + Where once, had he thus met her by surprise, + He would have seen himself, too happy boy, + Reflected in a thousand lights of joy; + And then the place,—that bright, unholy place, + Where vice lay hid beneath each winning grace + And charm of luxury, as the viper weaves + Its wily covering of sweet balsam leaves,—[95] + All struck upon his heart, sudden and cold + As death itself;—it needs not to be told— + No, no—he sees it all, plain as the brand + Of burning shame can mark—whate’er the hand, + That could from Heaven and him such brightness sever, + ’Tis done—to Heaven and him she’s lost for ever! + It was a dreadful moment; not the tears, + The lingering, lasting misery of years + Could match that minute’s anguish—all the worst + Of sorrow’s elements in that dark burst + Broke o’er his soul, and, with one crash of fate, + Laid the whole hopes of his life desolate. + + “Oh! curse me not,” she cried, as wild he toss’d + His desperate hand tow’rds Heaven—“though I am lost, + “Think not that guilt, that falsehood made me fall, + “No, no—’twas grief, ’twas madness did it all! + “Nay, doubt me not—though all thy love hath ceas’d— + “I know it hath—yet, yet believe, at least, + “That every spark of reason’s light must be + “Quench’d in this brain, ere I could stray from thee. + “They told me thou wert dead—why, AZIM, why + “Did we not, both of us, that instant die + “When we were parted? oh! could’st thou but know + “With what a deep devotedness of woe + “I wept thy absence—o’er and o’er again + “Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew pain, + “And memory, like a drop that, night and day, + “Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away. + “Didst thou but know how pale I sat at home, + “My eyes still turn’d the way thou wert to come, + “And, all the long, long night of hope and fear, + “Thy voice and step still sounding in my ear— + “Oh God! thou would’st not wonder that, at last, + “When every hope was all at once o’ercast, + “When I heard frightful voices round me say + “_Azim is dead!_—this wretched brain gave way, + “And I became a wreck, at random driven, + “Without one glimpse of reason or of Heaven— + “All wild—and even this quenchless love within + “Turn’d to foul fires to light me into sin!— + “Thou pitiest me—I knew thou would’st—that sky + “Hath nought beneath it half so lorn as I. + “The fiend, who lur’d me hither—hist! come near, + “Or thou too, _thou_ art lost, if he should hear— + “Told me such things—oh! with such devilish art + “As would have ruin’d even a holier heart— + “Of thee, and of that ever-radiant sphere, + “Where bless’d at length, if I but serv’d _him_ here, + “I should for ever live in thy dear sight,— + “And drink from those pure eyes eternal light. + “Think, think how lost, how madden’d I must be, + “To hope that guilt could lead to God or thee! + “Thou weep’st for me—do weep—oh, that I durst + “Kiss off that tear! but, no—these lips are curst, + “They must not touch thee;—one divine caress, + “One blessed moment of forgetfulness + “I’ve had within those arms, and _that_ shall lie, + “Shrin’d in my soul’s deep memory till I die; + “The last of joy’s last relics here below, + “The one sweet drop, in all this waste of woe, + “My heart has treasur’d from affection’s spring, + “To soothe and cool its deadly withering! + “But thou—yes, thou must go—for ever go; + “This place is not for thee—for thee! oh no, + “Did I but tell thee half, thy tortur’d brain + “Would burn like mine, and mine grow wild again! + “Enough, that Guilt reigns here—that hearts, once good, + “Now tainted, chill’d, and broken, are his food.— + “Enough, that we are parted—that there rolls + “A flood of headlong fate between our souls, + “Whose darkness severs me as wide from thee + “As hell from heaven, to all eternity!” + + “ZELICA, ZELICA!” the youth exclaim’d, + In all the tortures of a mind inflam’d + Almost to madness—“by that sacred Heaven, + “Where yet, if prayers can move, thou’lt be forgiven, + “As thou art here—here, in this writhing heart, + “All sinful, wild, and ruin’d as thou art! + “By the remembrance of our once pure love, + “Which, like a church-yard light, still burns above + “The grave of our lost souls—which guilt in thee + “Cannot extinguish, nor despair in me! + “I do conjure, implore thee to fly hence— + “If thou hast yet one spark of innocence, + “Fly with me from this place⸺” + “With thee! oh bliss! + “’Tis worth whole years of torment to hear this. + “What! take the lost one with thee?—let her rove + “By thy dear side, as in those days of love, + “When we were both so happy, both so pure— + “Too heavenly dream! if there’s on earth a cure + “For the sunk heart, ’tis this—day after day + “To be the blest companion of thy way; + “To hear thy angel eloquence—to see + “Those virtuous eyes for ever turn’d on me; + “And, in their light re-chasten’d silently, + “Like the stain’d web that whitens in the sun, + “Grow pure by being purely shone upon! + “And thou wilt pray for me—I know thou wilt— + “At the dim vesper hour, when thoughts of guilt + “Come heaviest o’er the heart, thou’lt lift thine eyes, + “Full of sweet tears, unto the dark’ning skies, + “And plead for me with Heaven, till I can dare + “To fix my own weak, sinful glances there; + “Till the good angels, when they see me cling + “For ever near thee, pale and sorrowing, + “Shall for thy sake pronounce my soul forgiven, + “And bid thee take thy weeping slave to Heaven! + “Oh yes, I’ll fly with thee⸺” + + Scarce had she said + These breathless words, when a voice deep and dread + As that of MONKER, waking up the dead + From their first sleep—so startling ’twas to both— + Rung through the casement near, “Thy oath! thy oath!” + Oh Heaven, the ghastliness of that Maid’s look!— + “’Tis he,” faintly she cried, while terror shook + Her inmost core, nor durst she lift her eyes, + Though through the casement, now, nought but the skies + And moonlight fields were seen, calm as before— + “’Tis he, and I am his—all, all is o’er— + “Go—fly this instant, or thou’rt ruin’d too— + “My oath, my oath, oh God! ’tis all too true, + “True as the worm in this cold heart it is— + “I am MOKANNA’S bride—his, AZIM, his— + “The Dead stood round us, while I spoke that vow, + “Their blue lips echo’d it—I hear them now! + “Their eyes glar’d on me, while I pledg’d that bowl, + “’Twas burning blood—I feel it in my soul! + “And the Veil’d Bridegroom—hist! I’ve seen to-night + “What angels know not of—so foul a sight, + “So horrible—oh! never may’st thou see + “What _there_ lies hid from all but hell and me! + “But I must hence—off, off—I am not thine, + “Nor Heaven’s, nor Love’s, nor aught that is divine— + “Hold me not—ha! think’st thou the fiends that sever + “Hearts, cannot sunder hands?—thus, then—for ever!” + + With all that strength, which madness lends the weak, + She flung away his arm; and, with a shriek, + Whose sound, though he should linger out more years + Than wretch e’er told, can never leave his ears— + Flew up through that long avenue of light, + Fleetly as some dark, ominous bird of night + Across the sun, and soon was out of sight! + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + +LALLA ROOKH could think of nothing all day but the misery of these two +young lovers. Her gaiety was gone, and she looked pensively even upon +FADLADEEN. She felt, too, without knowing why, a sort of uneasy pleasure +in imagining that AZIM must have been just such a youth as FERAMORZ; +just as worthy to enjoy all the blessings, without any of the pangs, of +that illusive passion which too often, like the sunny apples of +Istkahar,[96] is all sweetness on one side, and all bitterness on the +other. + +As they passed along a sequestered river after sunset, they saw a young +Hindoo girl upon the bank,[97] whose employment seemed to them so +strange, that they stopped their palankeens to observe her. She had +lighted a small lamp, filled with oil of cocoa, and placing it in an +earthen dish, adorned with a wreath of flowers, had committed it with a +trembling hand to the stream; and was now anxiously watching its +progress down the current, heedless of the gay cavalcade which had drawn +up beside her. LALLA ROOKH was all curiosity;—when one of her +attendants, who had lived upon the banks of the Ganges (where this +ceremony is so frequent, that often, in the dusk of the evening, the +river is seen glittering all over with lights, like the Oton-tala, or +Sea of Stars),[98] informed the Princess that it was the usual way, in +which the friends of those who had gone on dangerous voyages offered up +vows for their safe return. If the lamp sunk immediately, the omen was +disastrous; but if it went shining down the stream, and continued to +burn until entirely out of sight, the return of the beloved object was +considered as certain. + + LALLA ROOKH, as they moved on, more than once looked back, to observe +how the young Hindoo’s lamp proceeded; and, while she saw with pleasure +that it was still unextinguished, she could not help fearing that all +the hopes of this life were no better than that feeble light upon the +river. The remainder of the journey was passed in silence. She now, for +the first time, felt that shade of melancholy, which comes over the +youthful maiden’s heart, as sweet and transient as her own breath upon a +mirror; nor was it till she heard the lute of FERAMORZ, touched lightly +at the door of her pavilion, that she waked from the reverie in which +she had been wandering. Instantly her eyes were lighted up with +pleasure; and after a few unheard remarks from FADLADEEN, upon the +indecorum of a poet seating himself in presence of a Princess, every +thing was arranged as on the preceding evening and all listened with +eagerness, while the story was thus continued:— + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + Whose are the gilded tents that crowd the way, + Where all was waste and silent yesterday? + This City of War, which, in a few short hours, + Hath sprung up here,[99] as if the magic powers + Of Him who, in the twinkling of a star, + Built the high pillar’d halls of CHILMINAR,[100] + Had conjur’d up, far as the eye can see, + This world of tents, and domes, and sun-bright armory:— + Princely pavilions, screen’d by many a fold + Of crimson cloth, and topp’d with balls of gold:— + Steeds, with their housings of rich silver spun, + Their chains and poitrels, glittering in the sun; + And camels, tufted o’er with Yemen’s shells,[101] + Shaking in every breeze their light-ton’d bells! + + But yester-eve, so motionless around, + So mute was this wide plain, that not a sound + But the far torrent, or the locust bird[102] + Hunting among the thickets, could be heard;— + Yet hark! what discords now, of every kind, + Shouts, laughs, and screams are revelling in the wind; + The neigh of cavalry;—the tinkling throngs + Of laden camels and their drivers’ songs;—[103] + Ringing of arms, and flapping in the breeze + Of streamers from ten thousand canopies;— + War-music, bursting out from time to time, + With gong and tymbalon’s tremendous chime;— + Or, in the pause, when harsher sounds are mute, + The mellow breathings of some horn or flute, + That far off, broken by the eagle note + Of the’ Abyssinian trumpet,[104] swell and float. + + Who leads this mighty army?—ask ye “who?” + And mark ye not those banners of dark hue, + The Night and Shadow,[105] over yonder tent?— + It is the CALIPH’S glorious armament. + Roused in his Palace by the dread alarms, + That hourly came, of the false Prophet’s arms, + And of his host of infidels, who hurl’d + Defiance fierce at Islam[106] and the world,— + Though worn with Grecian warfare, and behind + The veils of his bright Palace calm reclin’d, + Yet brook’d he not such blasphemy should stain, + Thus unreveng’d, the evening of his reign; + But, having sworn upon the Holy Grave[107] + To conquer or to perish, once more gave + His shadowy banners proudly to the breeze, + And with an army, nurs’d in victories, + Here stands to crush the rebels that o’er-run + His blest and beauteous Province of the Sun. + + Ne’er did the march of MAHADI display + Such pomp before;—not even when on his way + To MECCA’S Temple, when both land and sea + Were spoil’d to feed the Pilgrim’s luxury;[108] + When round him, ’mid the burning sands, he saw + Fruits of the North in icy freshness thaw, + And cool’d his thirsty lip, beneath the glow + Of MECCA’S sun, with urns of Persian snow:[109]— + Nor e’er did armament more grand than that + Pour from the kingdoms of the Caliphat. + First, in the van, the People of the Rock,[110] + On their light mountain steeds, of royal stock:[111] + Then, chieftains of DAMASCUS, proud to see + The flashing of their swords’ rich marquetry;[112]— + Men, from the regions near the VOLGA’S mouth, + Mix’d with the rude, black archers of the South; + And Indian lancers, in white turban’d ranks, + From the far SINDE, or ATTOCK’S sacred banks, + With dusky legions from the land of Myrrh,[113] + And many a mace-arm’d Moor and Mid-sea islander. + + Nor less in number, though more new and rude + In warfare’s school, was the vast multitude + That, fir’d by zeal, or by oppression wrong’d, + Round the white standard of the’ impostor throng’d. + Beside his thousands of Believers—blind, + Burning and headlong as the Samiel wind— + Many who felt, and more who fear’d to feel + The bloody Islamite’s converting steel, + Flock’d to his banner;—Chiefs of the’ UZBEK race, + Waving their heron crests with martial grace;[114] + TURKOMANS, countless as their flocks, led forth + From the’ aromatic pastures of the North; + Wild warriors of the turquoise hills,[115]—and those + Who dwell beyond the everlasting snows + Of HINDOO KOSH,[116] in stormy freedom bred, + Their fort the rock, their camp the torrent’s bed. + But none, of all who own’d the Chief’s command, + Rush’d to that battle-field with bolder hand, + Or sterner hate, than IRAN’S outlaw’d men, + Her Worshippers of Fire[117]—all panting then + For vengeance on the’ accursed Saracen; + Vengeance at last for their dear country spurn’d, + Her throne usurp’d, and her bright shrines o’erturned. + From YEZD’S[118] eternal Mansion of the Fire, + Where aged saints in dreams of Heaven expire: + From BADKU, and those fountains of blue flame + That burn into the CASPIAN,[119] fierce they came, + Careless for what or whom the blow was sped, + So vengeance triumph’d, and their tyrants bled. + + Such was the wild and miscellaneous host, + That high in air their motley banners tost + Around the Prophet-Chief—all eyes still bent + Upon that glittering Veil, where’er it went, + That beacon through the battle’s stormy flood, + That rainbow of the field, whose showers were blood! + + Twice hath the sun upon their conflict set, + And risen again, and found them grappling yet; + While streams of carnage, in his noontide blaze, + Smoke up to Heaven—hot as that crimson haze, + By which the prostrate Caravan is aw’d,[120] + In the red Desert, when the wind’s abroad. + “On, Swords of God!” the panting CALIPH calls,— + “Thrones for the living—Heaven for him who falls!” + “On, brave avengers, on,” MOKANNA cries, + “And EBLIS blast the recreant slave that flies!” + Now comes the brunt, the crisis of the day— + They clash—they strive—the CALIPH’S troops give way! + MOKANNA’S self plucks the black Banner down, + And now the Orient World’s Imperial crown + Is just within his grasp—when, hark, that shout! + Some hand hath check’d the flying Moslem’s rout; + And now they turn, they rally—at their head + A warrior, (like those angel youths who led, + In glorious panoply of Heaven’s own mail, + The Champions of the Faith through BEDER’S vale,[121]) + Bold as if gifted with ten thousand lives, + Turns on the fierce pursuers’ blades, and drives + At once the multitudinous torrent back— + While hope and courage kindle in his track; + And, at each step, his bloody falchion makes + Terrible vistas through which victory breaks! + In vain MOKANNA, midst the general flight, + Stands, like the red moon, on some stormy night, + Among the fugitive clouds that, hurrying by, + Leave only her unshaken in the sky— + In vain he yells his desperate curses out, + Deals death promiscuously to all about, + To foes that charge and coward friends that fly, + And seems of _all_ the Great Arch-enemy. + The panic spreads—“A miracle!” throughout + The Moslem ranks, “a miracle!” they shout, + All gazing on that youth, whose coming seems + A light, a glory, such as breaks in dreams; + And every sword, true as o’er billows dim + The needle tracks the load-star, following him! + + Right tow’rds MOKANNA now he cleaves his path, + Impatient cleaves, as though the bolt of wrath + He bears from Heaven withheld its awful burst + From weaker heads, and souls but half-way curst, + To break o’er Him, the mightiest and the worst! + But vain his speed—though, in that hour of blood, + Had all God’s seraphs round MOKANNA stood, + With swords of fire, ready like fate to fall, + MOKANNA’S soul would have defied them all; + Yet now, the rush of fugitives, too strong + For human force, hurries even _him_ along; + In vain he struggles ’mid the wedg’d array + Of flying thousands—he is borne away; + And the sole joy his baffled spirit knows, + In this forc’d flight, is—murdering as he goes! + As a grim tiger, whom the torrent’s might + Surprises in some parch’d ravine at night, + Turns, even in drowning, on the wretched flocks, + Swept with him in that snow-flood from the rocks, + And, to the last, devouring on his way, + Bloodies the stream he hath not power to stay. + + “Alla illa Alla!”—the glad shout renew— + “Alla Akbar!”[122]—the Caliph’s in MEROU. + Hang out your gilded tapestry in the streets, + And light your shrines and chaunt your ziraleets.[123] + The Swords of God have triumph’d—on his throne + Your Caliph sits, and the veil’d Chief hath flown. + Who does not envy that young warrior now, + To whom the Lord of Islam bends his brow, + In all the graceful gratitude of power, + For his throne’s safety in that perilous hour? + Who doth not wonder, when, amidst the’ acclaim + Of thousands, heralding to heaven his name— + Mid all those holier harmonies of fame, + Which sound along the path of virtuous souls, + Like music round a planet as it rolls,— + He turns away—coldly, as if some gloom + Hung o’er his heart no triumphs can illume;— + Some sightless grief, upon whose blasted gaze + Though glory’s light may play, in vain it plays? + Yes, wretched AZIM! thine is such a grief, + Beyond all hope, all terror, all relief; + A dark, cold calm, which nothing now can break, + Or warm or brighten,—like that Syrian Lake,[124] + Upon whose surface morn and summer shed + Their smiles in vain, for all beneath is dead!— + Hearts there have been, o’er which this weight of woe + Came by long use of suffering, tame and slow; + But thine, lost youth! was sudden—over thee + It broke at once, when all seemed ecstacy; + When Hope look’d up, and saw the gloomy Past + Melt into splendour, and Bliss dawn at last— + ’Twas then, even then, o’er joys so freshly blown, + This mortal blight of misery came down; + Even then, the full, warm gushings of thy heart + Were check’d—like fount-drops, frozen as they start— + And there, like them, cold, sunless relics hang, + Each fix’d and chill’d into a lasting pang. + + * * * * * + + + One sole desire, one passion now remains + To keep life’s fever still within his veins, + Vengeance!—dire vengeance on the wretch who cast + O’er him and all he lov’d that ruinous blast. + For this, when rumours reach’d him in his flight + Far, far away, after that fatal night,— + Rumours of armies, thronging to the’ attack + Of the Veil’d Chief,—for this he wing’d him back, + Fleet as the vulture speeds to flags unfurl’d, + And, when all hope seem’d desperate, wildly hurl’d + Himself into the scale, and sav’d a world. + For this he still lives on, careless of all + The wreaths that Glory on his path lets fall; + For this alone exists—like lightning-fire, + To speed one bolt of vengeance, and expire! + + But safe as yet that Spirit of Evil lives; + With a small band of desperate fugitives, + The last sole stubborn fragment, left unriven, + Of the proud host that late stood fronting Heaven, + He gain’d MEROU—breath’d a short curse of blood + O’er his lost throne—then pass’d the JIHON’S flood,[125] + And gathering all, whose madness of belief + Still saw a Saviour in their down-fall’n Chief, + Rais’d the white banner within NEKSHEB’S gates,[126] + And there, untam’d, the’ approaching conqu’ror waits. + + Of all his Haram, all that busy hive, + With music and with sweets sparkling alive, + He took but one, the partner of his flight, + One—not for love—not for her beauty’s light— + No, ZELICA stood withering midst the gay, + Wan as the blossom that fell yesterday + From the’ Alma tree and dies, while overhead + To-day’s young flower is springing in its stead.[127] + Oh, not for love—the deepest Damn’d must be + Touch’d with Heaven’s glory, ere such fiends as he + Can feel one glimpse of Love’s divinity. + But no, she is his victim; _there_ lie all + Her charms for him—charms that can never pall, + As long as hell within his heart can stir, + Or one faint trace of Heaven is left in her. + To work an angel’s ruin,—to behold + As white a page as Virtue e’er unroll’d + Blacken, beneath his touch, into a scroll + Of damning sins, seal’d with a burning soul— + This is his triumph; this the joy accurst, + That ranks him among demons all but first: + This gives the victim, that before him lies + Blighted and lost, a glory in his eyes, + A light like that with which hell-fire illumes + The ghastly, writhing wretch whom it consumes! + + But other tasks now wait him—tasks that need + All the deep daringness of thought and deed + With which the Dives[128] have gifted him—for mark, + Over yon plains, which night had else made dark, + Those lanterns, countless as the winged lights + That spangle INDIA’S fields on showery nights,[129]— + Far as their formidable gleams they shed, + The mighty tents of the beleaguerer spread, + Glimmering along the’ horizon’s dusky line, + And thence in nearer circles, till they shine + Among the founts and groves, o’er which the town + In all its arm’d magnificence looks down. + Yet, fearless, from his lofty battlements + MOKANNA views that multitude of tents; + Nay, smiles to think that, though entoil’d, beset, + Not less than myriads dare to front him yet;— + That friendless, throneless, he thus stands at bay, + Even thus a match for myriads such as they. + “Oh, for a sweep of that dark Angel’s wing, + “Who brush’d the thousands of the’ Assyrian King[130] + “To darkness in a moment, that I might + “People Hell’s chambers with yon host to-night! + “But, come what may, let who will grasp the throne, + “Caliph or Prophet, Man alike shall groan + “Let who will torture him, Priest—Caliph—King— + “Alike this loathsome world of his shall ring + “With victims’ shrieks, and howlings of the slave,— + “Sounds, that shall glad me even within my grave!” + Thus, to himself—but to the scanty train + Still left around him, a far different strain:— + “Glorious Defenders of the sacred Crown + “I bear from Heaven, whose light nor blood shall drown, + “Nor shadow of earth eclipse;—before whose gems + “The paly pomp of this world’s diadems, + “The crown of GERASHID, the pillar’d throne + “Of PARVIZ,[131] and the heron crest that shone,[132] + “Magnificent, o’er ALI’S beauteous eyes,[133] + “Fade like the stars when morn is in the skies: + “Warriors, rejoice—the port to which we’ve pass’d + “O’er Destiny’s dark wave, beams out at last! + “Victory’s our own—’tis written in that Book + “Upon whose leaves none but the angels look, + “That ISLAM’S sceptre shall beneath the power + “Of her great foe fall broken in that hour, + “When the moon’s mighty orb, before all eyes, + “From NEKSHEB’S Holy Well portentously shall rise! + “Now turn and see!”⸺ + They turn’d, and, as he spoke, + A sudden splendour all around them broke, + And they beheld an orb, ample and bright, + Rise from the Holy Well,[134] and cast its light + Round the rich city and the plain for miles,[135]— + Flinging such radiance o’er the gilded tiles + Of many a dome and fair-roof’d minaret + As autumn suns shed round them when they set. + Instant from all who saw the’ illusive sign + A murmur broke—“Miraculous! divine!” + The Gheber bow’d, thinking his idol star + Had wak’d, and burst impatient through the bar + Of midnight, to inflame him to the war; + While he of MOUSSA’S creed saw, in that ray, + The glorious Light which, in his freedom’s day, + Had rested on the Ark,[136] and now again + Shone out to bless the breaking of his chain. + + “To victory!” is at once the cry of all— + Nor stands MOKANNA loitering at that call; + But instant the huge gates are flung aside, + And forth, like a diminutive mountain-tide + Into the boundless sea, they speed their course + Right on into the MOSLEM’S mighty force. + The watchmen of the camp,—who, in their rounds, + Had paus’d, and even forgot the punctual sounds + Of the small drum with which they count the night,[137] + To gaze upon that supernatural light,— + Now sink beneath an unexpected arm, + And in a death-groan give their last alarm. + “On for the lamps, that light yon lofty screen,[138] + “Nor blunt your blades with massacre so mean; + “_There_ rests the CALIPH—speed—one lucky lance + “May now achieve mankind’s deliverance.” + Desperate the die—such as they only cast, + Who venture for a world, and stake their last. + But Fate’s no longer with him—blade for blade + Springs up to meet them through the glimmering shade, + And, as the clash is heard, new legions soon + Pour to the spot, like bees of KAUZEROON[139] + To the shrill timbrel’s summons,—till, at length, + The mighty camp swarms out in all its strength, + And back to NEKSHEB’S gates, covering the plain + With random slaughter, drives the adventurous train; + Among the last of whom the Silver Veil + Is seen glittering at times, like the white sail + Of some toss’d vessel, on a stormy night, + Catching the tempest’s momentary light! + + And hath not _this_ brought the proud spirit low? + Nor dash’d his brow, nor check’d his daring? No. + Though half the wretches, whom at night he led + To thrones and victory, lie disgrac’d and dead, + Yet morning hears him, with unshrinking crest, + Still vaunt of thrones, and victory to the rest;— + And they believe him!—oh, the lover may + Distrust that look which steals his soul away;— + The babe may cease to think that it can play + With Heaven’s rainbow;—alchymists may doubt + The shining gold their crucible gives out; + But Faith, fanatic Faith, once wedded fast + To some dear falsehood, hugs it to the last. + + And well the’ Impostor knew all lures and arts, + That LUCIFER e’er taught to tangle hearts; + Nor, ’mid these last bold workings of his plot + Against men’s souls, is ZELICA forgot. + Ill-fated ZELICA! had reason been + Awake, through half the horrors thou hast seen, + Thou never couldst have borne it—Death had come + At once, and taken thy wrung spirit home. + But ’twas not so—a torpor, a suspense + Of thought, almost of life, came o’er the’ intense + And passionate struggles of that fearful night, + When her last hope of peace and heaven took flight: + And though, at times, a gleam of frenzy broke,— + As through some dull volcano’s veil of smoke + Ominous flashings now and then will start, + Which show the fire’s still busy at its heart; + Yet was she mostly wrapp’d in solemn gloom,— + Not such as AZIM’S, brooding o’er its doom, + And calm without, as is the brow of death, + While busy worms are gnawing underneath,— + But in a blank and pulseless torpor, free + From thought or pain, a seal’d-up apathy, + Which left her oft, with scarce one living thrill, + The cold, pale victim of her torturer’s will. + + Again, as in MEROU, he had her deck’d + Gorgeously out, the Priestess of the sect; + And led her glittering forth before the eyes + Of his rude train, as to a sacrifice,— + Pallid as she, the young, devoted Bride + Of the fierce NILE, when, deck’d in all the pride + Of nuptial pomp, she sinks into his tide.[140] + And while the wretched maid hung down her head, + And stood, as one just risen from the dead, + Amid that gazing crowd, the fiend would tell + His credulous slaves it was some charm or spell + Possess’d her now,—and from that darken’d trance + Should dawn ere long their Faith’s deliverance. + Or if, at times, goaded by guilty shame, + Her soul was rous’d, and words of wildness came, + Instant the bold blasphemer would translate + Her ravings into oracles of fate, + Would hail heaven’s signals in her flashing eyes, + And call her shrieks the language of the skies! + + But vain at length his arts—despair is seen + Gathering around; and famine comes to glean + All that the sword had left unreap’d:—in vain + At morn and eve across the northern plain + He looks impatient for the promis’d spears + Of the wild Hordes and TARTAR mountaineers; + They come not—while his fierce beleaguerers pour + Engines of havoc in, unknown before,[141] + And horrible as new;[142]—javelins, that fly + Enwreath’d with smoky flames through the dark sky, + And red-hot globes, that, opening as they mount, + Discharge, as from a kindled Naphtha fount,[143] + Showers of consuming fire o’er all below; + Looking, as through the’ illumin’d night they go, + Like those wild birds[144] that by the Magians oft, + At festivals of fire, were sent aloft + Into the air, with blazing faggots tied + To their huge wings, scattering combustion wide. + All night the groans of wretches who expire + In agony, beneath these darts of fire, + Ring through the city—while, descending o’er + Its shrines and domes and streets of sycamore,— + Its lone bazaars, with their bright cloths of gold, + Since the last peaceful pageant left unroll’d,— + Its beauteous marble baths, whose idle jets + Now gush with blood,—and its tall minarets, + That late have stood up in the evening glare + Of the red sun, unhallow’d by a prayer;— + O’er each, in turn, the dreadful flame-bolts fall, + And death and conflagration throughout all + The desolate city hold high festival! + + MOKANNA sees the world is his no more;— + One sting at parting, and his grasp is o’er. + “What! drooping now?”—thus, with unblushing cheek, + He hails the few, who yet can hear him speak, + Of all those famish’d slaves around him lying, + And by the light of blazing temples dying;— + “What!—drooping now?—now, when at length we press + “Home o’er the very threshold of success; + “When ALLA from our ranks hath thinn’d away + “Those grosser branches, that kept out his ray + “Of favour from us, and we stand at length + “Heirs of his light and children of his strength, + “The chosen few, who shall survive the fall + “Of Kings and Thrones, triumphant over all! + “Have you then lost, weak murmurers as you are, + “All faith in him, who was your Light, your Star? + “Have you forgot the eye of glory, hid + “Beneath this Veil, the flashing of whose lid + “Could, like a sun-stroke of the desert, wither + “Millions of such as yonder Chief brings hither? + “Long have its lightnings slept—too long—but now + “All earth shall feel the’ unveiling of this brow! + “To-night—yes, sainted men! this very night, + “I bid you all to a fair festal rite, + “Where—having deep refresh’d each weary limb + “With viands, such as feast Heaven’s cherubim, + “And kindled up your souls, now sunk and dim, + “With that pure wine the Dark-ey’d Maids above + “Keep, seal’d with precious musk, for those they love,[145]— + “I will myself uncurtain in your sight + “The wonders of this brow’s ineffable light; + “Then lead you forth, and with a wink disperse + “Yon myriads, howling through the universe!” + + Eager they listen—while each accent darts + New life into their chill’d and hope-sick hearts; + Such treacherous life as the cool draught supplies + To him upon the stake, who drinks and dies! + Wildly they point their lances to the light + Of the fast sinking sun, and shout “To-night!”— + “To-night,” their Chief re-echoes in a voice + Of fiend-like mockery that bids hell rejoice. + Deluded victims!—never hath this earth + Seen mourning half so mournful as their mirth. + _Here_, to the few, whose iron frames had stood + This racking waste of famine and of blood, + Faint, dying wretches clung, from whom the shout + Of triumph like a maniac’s laugh broke out:— + _There_, others, lighted by the smould’ring fire, + Danc’d like wan ghosts about a funeral pyre, + Among the dead and dying, strew’d around;— + While some pale wretch look’d on, and from his wound + Plucking the fiery dart by which he bled, + In ghastly transport wav’d it o’er his head! + + ’Twas more than midnight now—a fearful pause + Had follow’d the long shouts, the wild applause, + That lately from those Royal Gardens burst, + Where the Veil’d demon held his feast accurst, + When ZELICA—alas, poor ruin’d heart, + In every horror doom’d to bear its part!— + Was bidden to the banquet by a slave, + Who, while his quivering lip the summons gave, + Grew black, as though the shadows of the grave + Compass’d him round, and, ere he could repeat + His message through, fell lifeless at her feet! + Shuddering she went—a soul-felt pang of fear, + A presage that her own dark doom was near, + Rous’d every feeling, and brought Reason back + Once more, to writhe her last upon the rack. + All round seem’d tranquil—even the foe had ceas’d, + As if aware of that demoniac feast, + His fiery bolts; and though the heavens look’d red, + ’Twas but some distant conflagration’s spread. + But hark—she stops—she listens—dreadful tone, + ’Tis her Tormentor’s laugh—and now, a groan, + A long death-groan comes with it:—can this be + The place of mirth, the bower of revelry? + She enters—Holy ALLA, what a sight + Was there before her! By the glimmering light + Of the pale dawn, mix’d with the flare of brands + That round lay burning, dropp’d from lifeless hands, + She saw the board, in splendid mockery spread, + Rich censers breathing—garlands overhead— + The urns, the cups, from which they late had quaff’d, + All gold and gems, but—what had been the draught? + Oh! who need ask, that saw those livid guests, + With their swoll’n heads sunk black’ning on their breasts, + Or looking pale to Heaven with glassy glare, + As if they sought but saw no mercy there; + As if they felt, though poison rack’d them through, + Remorse the deadlier torment of the two! + While some, the bravest, hardiest in the train + Of their false Chief, who on the battle-plain + Would have met death with transport by his side, + Here mute and helpless gasp’d;—but, as they died, + Look’d horrible vengeance with their eyes’ last strain, + And clench’d the slack’ning hand at him in vain. + + Dreadful it was to see the ghastly stare, + The stony look of horror and despair, + Which some of these expiring victims cast + Upon their souls’ tormentor to the last;— + Upon that mocking Fiend, whose Veil, now rais’d, + Show’d them, as in death’s agony they gazed, + Not the long promis’d light, the brow, whose beaming + Was to come forth, all conquering, all redeeming, + But features horribler than Hell e’er trac’d + On its own brood;—no Demon of the Waste,[146] + No church-yard Ghole, caught lingering in the light + Of the blest sun, e’er blasted human sight + With lineaments so foul, so fierce as those + The’ Impostor, now in grinning mockery, shows:— + “There, ye wise Saints, behold your Light, your Star— + “Ye _would_ be dupes and victims, and ye _are_. + “Is it enough? or must I, while a thrill + “Lives in your sapient bosoms, cheat you still? + “Swear that the burning death ye feel within + “Is but the trance with which Heaven’s joys begin; + “That this foul visage, foul as e’er disgrac’d + “Even monstrous man, is—after God’s own taste; + “And that—but see!—ere I have half-way said + “My greetings through, the’ uncourteous souls are fled. + “Farewell, sweet spirits! not in vain ye die, + “If EBLIS loves you half so well as I.— + “Ha, my young bride!—’tis well—take thou thy seat; + “Nay come—no shuddering—didst thou never meet + “The dead before?—they grac’d our wedding, sweet; + “And these, my guests to-night, have brimm’d so true + “Their parting cups, that _thou_ shalt pledge one too. + “But—how is this?—all empty? all drunk up? + “Hot lips have been before thee in the cup, + “Young bride,—yet stay—one precious drop remains, + “Enough to warm a gentle Priestess’ veins;— + “Here, drink—and should thy lover’s conquering arms + “Speed hither, ere thy lip lose all its charms, + “Give him but half this venom in thy kiss, + “And I’ll forgive my haughty rival’s bliss! + + “For _me_—I too must die—but not like these + “Vile, rankling things, to fester in the breeze; + “To have this brow in ruffian triumph shown, + “With all death’s grimness added to its own, + “And rot to dust beneath the taunting eyes + “Of slaves, exclaiming, ‘There his Godship lies! + “No—cursed race—since first my soul drew breath, + “They’ve been my dupes, and _shall_ be even in death. + “Thou see’st yon cistern in the shade—’tis fill’d + “With burning drugs, for this last hour distill’d:[147]— + “There will I plunge me, in that liquid flame— + “Fit bath to lave a dying Prophet’s frame!— + “There perish, all—ere pulse of thine shall fail— + “Nor leave one limb to tell mankind the tale. + “So shall my votaries, wheresoe’er they rave, + “Proclaim that Heaven took back the Saint it gave;— + “That I’ve but vanish’d from this earth awhile, + “To come again, with bright, unshrouded smile! + “So shall they build me altars in their zeal, + “Where knaves shall minister, and fools shall kneel; + “Where Faith may mutter o’er her mystic spell, + “Written in blood—and Bigotry may swell + “The sail he spreads for Heaven with blasts from hell! + “So shall my banner, through long ages, be + “The rallying sign of fraud and anarchy:— + “Kings yet unborn shall rue MOKANNA’S name, + “And, though I die, my spirit, still the same, + “Shall walk abroad in all the stormy strife, + “And guilt, and blood, that were its bliss in life. + “But, hark! their battering engine shakes the wall— + “Why, _let_ it shake—thus I can brave them all. + “No trace of me shall greet them, when they come, + “And I can trust thy faith, for—thou’lt be dumb. + “Now mark how readily a wretch like me, + “In one bold plunge, commences Deity!” + + He sprung and sunk, as the last words were said— + Quick clos’d the burning waters o’er his head, + And ZELICA was left—within the ring + Of those wide walls the only living thing; + The only wretched one, still curs’d with breath, + In all that frightful wilderness of death! + More like some bloodless ghost—such as, they tell, + In the lone Cities of the Silent[148] dwell, + And there, unseen of all but ALLA, sit + Each by its own pale carcass, watching it. + + But morn is up, and a fresh warfare stirs + Throughout the camp of the beleaguerers. + Their globes of fire (the dread artillery lent + By GREECE to conquering MAHADI) are spent; + And now the scorpion’s shaft, the quarry sent + From high balistas, and the shielding throng + Of soldiers swinging the huge ram along, + All speak the’ impatient Islamite’s intent + To try, at length, if tower and battlement + And bastion’d wall be not less hard to win, + Less tough to break down than the hearts within. + First in impatience and in toil is he, + The burning AZIM—oh! could he but see + The’ Impostor once alive within his grasp, + Not the gaunt lion’s hug, nor boa’s clasp, + Could match that gripe of vengeance, or keep pace + With the fell heartiness of Hate’s embrace! + + Loud rings the ponderous ram against the walls; + Now shake the ramparts, now a buttress falls, + But still no breach—“Once more, one mighty swing + “Of all your beams, together thundering!” + There—the wall shakes—the shouting troops exult, + “Quick, quick discharge your weightiest catapult + “Right on that spot, and NEKSHEB is our own!” + ’Tis done—the battlements come crashing down, + And the huge wall, by that stroke riven in two, + Yawning, like some old crater, rent anew, + Shows the dim, desolate city smoking through. + But strange! no signs of life—nought living seen + Above, below—what can this stillness mean? + A minute’s pause suspends all hearts and eyes— + “In through the breach,” impetuous AZIM cries; + But the cool CALIPH, fearful of some wile + In this blank stillness, checks the troops awhile.— + Just then, a figure, with slow step, advanc’d + Forth from the ruin’d walls, and, as there glanc’d + A sunbeam over it, all eyes could see + The well-known Silver Veil!—“’Tis He, ’tis He, + “MOKANNA, and alone!” they shout around; + Young AZIM from his steed springs to the ground— + “Mine, Holy Caliph! mine,” he cries, “the task + “To crush yon daring wretch—’tis all I ask.” + Eager he darts to meet the demon foe, + Who still across wide heaps of ruin slow + And falteringly comes, till they are near; + Then, with a bound, rushes on AZIM’S spear, + And, casting off the Veil in falling, shows— + Oh!—’tis his ZELICA’S life-blood that flows! + + “I meant not, AZIM,” soothingly she said, + As on his trembling arm she lean’d her head, + And, looking in his face, saw anguish there + Beyond all wounds the quivering flesh can bear— + “I meant not _thou_ shouldst have the pain of this:— + “Though death, with thee thus tasted, is a bliss + “Thou wouldst not rob me of, didst thou but know + “How oft I’ve pray’d to God I might die so! + “But the Fiend’s venom was too scant and slow;— + “To linger on were maddening—and I thought + “If once that Veil—nay, look not on it—caught + “The eyes of your fierce soldiery, I should be + “Struck by a thousand death-darts instantly. + “But this is sweeter—oh! believe me, yes— + “I would not change this sad, but dear caress, + “This death within thy arms I would not give + “For the most smiling life the happiest live! + “All, that stood dark and drear before the eye + “Of my stray’d soul, is passing swiftly by; + “A light comes o’er me from those looks of love, + “Like the first dawn of mercy from above; + “And if thy lips but tell me I’m forgiven, + “Angels will echo the blest words in Heaven! + “But live, my AZIM;—oh! to call thee mine + “Thus once again! _my_ AZIM—dream divine! + “Live, if thou ever lov’dst me, if to meet + “Thy ZELICA hereafter would be sweet, + “Oh, live to pray for her—to bend the knee + “Morning and night before that Deity, + “To whom pure lips and hearts without a stain, + “As thine are, AZIM, never breath’d in vain,— + “And pray that He may pardon her,—may take + “Compassion on her soul for thy dear sake, + “And, nought remembering but her love to thee, + “Make her all thine, all His, eternally! + “Go to those happy fields where first we twin’d + “Our youthful hearts together—every wind + “That meets thee there, fresh from the well-known flowers, + “Will bring the sweetness of those innocent hours + “Back to thy soul, and mayst thou feel again + “For thy poor ZELICA as thou didst then. + “So shall thy orisons, like dew that flies + “To Heaven upon the morning’s sunshine, rise + “With all love’s earliest ardour to the skies! + “And should they—but, alas, my senses fail— + “Oh for one minute!—should thy prayers prevail— + “If pardon’d souls may, from that World of Bliss, + “Reveal their joy to those they love in this— + “I’ll come to thee—in some sweet dream—and tell— + “Oh Heaven—I die—dear love! farewell, farewell.” + + Time fleeted—years on years had pass’d away, + And few of those who, on that mournful day, + Had stood, with pity in their eyes, to see + The maiden’s death and the youth’s agony, + Were living still—when, by a rustic grave, + Beside the swift Amoo’s transparent wave, + An aged man, who had grown aged there + By that lone grave, morning and night in prayer, + For the last time knelt down—and, though the shade + Of death hung darkening over him, there play’d + A gleam of rapture on his eye and cheek, + That brighten’d even Death—like the last streak + Of intense glory on the’ horizon’s brim, + When night o’er all the rest hangs chill and dim. + His soul had seen a Vision, while he slept; + She, for whose spirit he had pray’d and wept + So many years, had come to him, all drest + In angel smiles, and told him she was blest! + For this the old man breath’d his thanks and died.— + And there, upon the banks of that lov’d tide, + He and his ZELICA sleep side by side. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + +The story of the Veiled Prophet of Khorassan being ended, they were now +doomed to hear FADLADEEN’S criticisms upon it. A series of +disappointments and accidents had occurred to this learned Chamberlain +during the journey. In the first place, those couriers stationed, as in +the reign of Shah Jehan, between Delhi and the Western coast of India, +to secure a constant supply of mangoes for the Royal Table, had, by some +cruel irregularity, failed in their duty, and to eat any mangoes but +those of Mazagong was, of course, impossible.[149] In the next place, +the elephant, laden with his fine antique porcelain,[150] had, in an +unusual fit of liveliness, shattered the whole set to pieces:—an +irreparable loss, as many of the vessels were so exquisitely old, as to +have been used under the Emperors Yan and Chun, who reigned many ages +before the dynasty of Tang. His Koran, too, supposed to be the identical +copy between the leaves of which Mahomet’s favourite pigeon used to +nestle, had been mislaid by his Koran-bearer three whole days; not +without much spiritual alarm to FADLADEEN, who, though professing to +hold with other loyal and orthodox Mussulmans, that salvation could only +be found in the Koran, was strongly suspected of believing in his heart, +that it could only be found in his own particular copy of it. When to +all these grievances is added the obstinacy of the cooks, in putting the +pepper of Canara into his dishes instead of the cinnamon of Serendib, we +may easily suppose that he came to the task of criticism with, at least, +a sufficient degree of irritability for the purpose. + +“In order,” said he, importantly swinging about his chaplet of pearls, +“to convey with clearness my opinion of the story this young man has +related, it is necessary to take a review of all the stories that have +ever⸺”—“My good FADLADEEN!” exclaimed the Princess, interrupting him, +“we really do not deserve that you should give yourself so much trouble. +Your opinion of the poem we have just heard will, I have no doubt, be +abundantly edifying, without any further waste of your valuable +erudition.”—“If that be all,” replied the critic,—evidently mortified at +not being allowed to show how much he knew about every thing but the +subject immediately before him—“if that be all that is required, the +matter is easily despatched.” He then proceeded to analyse the poem, in +that strain (so well known to the unfortunate bards of Delhi), whose +censures were an infliction from which few recovered, and whose very +praises were like the honey extracted from the bitter flowers of the +aloe. The chief personages of the story were, if he rightly understood +them, an ill-favoured gentleman, with a veil over his face;—a young +lady, whose reason went and came, according as it suited the poet’s +convenience to be sensible or otherwise;—and a youth in one of those +hideous Bucharian bonnets, who took the aforesaid gentleman in a veil +for a Divinity. “From such materials,” said he, “what can be +expected?—after rivalling each other in long speeches and absurdities, +through some thousands of lines as indigestible as the filberts of +Berdaa, our friend in the veil jumps into a tub of aquafortis; the young +lady dies in a set speech, whose only recommendation is that it is her +last; and the lover lives on to a good old age for the laudable purpose +of seeing her ghost, which he at last happily accomplishes, and expires. +This, you will allow, is a fair summary of the story; and if Nasser, the +Arabian merchant, told no better,[151] our Holy Prophet (to whom be all +honour and glory!) had no need to be jealous of his abilities for +story-telling.” + +With respect to the style, it was worthy of the matter;—it had not even +those politic contrivances of structure, which make up for the +commonness of the thoughts by the peculiarity of the manner, nor that +stately poetical phraseology by which sentiments mean in themselves, +like the blacksmith’s[152] apron converted into a banner, are so easily +gilt and embroidered into consequence. Then, as to the versification, it +was, to say no worse of it, execrable: it had neither the copious flow +of Ferdosi, the sweetness of Hafez, nor the sententious march of Sadi; +but appeared to him, in the uneasy heaviness of its movements, to have +been modelled upon the gait of a very tired dromedary. The licences, +too, in which it indulged, were unpardonable;—for instance, this line, +and the poem abounded with such:— + + Like the faint, exquisite music of a dream. + +“What critic that can count,” said FADLADEEN, “and has his full +complement of fingers to count withal, would tolerate for an instant +such syllabic superfluities?” He here looked round, and discovered that +most of his audience were asleep; while the glimmering lamps seemed +inclined to follow their example. It became necessary, therefore, +however painful to himself, to put an end to his valuable animadversions +for the present, and he accordingly concluded, with an air of dignified +candour, thus:—“Notwithstanding the observations which I have thought it +my duty to make, it is by no means my wish to discourage the young +man:—so far from it, indeed, that if he will but totally alter his style +of writing and thinking, I have very little doubt that I shall be vastly +pleased with him.” + +Some days elapsed, after this harangue of the Great Chamberlain, +before LALLA ROOKH could venture to ask for another story. The youth +was still a welcome guest in the pavilion—to _one_ heart, perhaps, too +dangerously welcome:—but all mention of poetry was, as if by common +consent, avoided. Though none of the party had much respect for +FADLADEEN, yet his censures, thus magisterially delivered, evidently +made an impression on them all. The Poet himself, to whom criticism +was quite a new operation, (being wholly unknown in that Paradise of +the Indies, Cashmere,) felt the shock as it is generally felt at +first, till use has made it more tolerable to the patient;—the Ladies +began to suspect that they ought not to be pleased, and seemed to +conclude that there must have been much good sense in what FADLADEEN +said, from its having sent them all so soundly to sleep;—while the +self-complacent Chamberlain was left to triumph in the idea of having, +for the hundred and fiftieth time in his life, extinguished a Poet. +LALLA ROOKH alone—and Love knew why—persisted in being delighted with +all she had heard, and in resolving to hear more as speedily as +possible. Her manner, however, of first returning to the subject was +unlucky. It was while they rested during the heat of noon near a +fountain, on which some hand had rudely traced those well-known words +from the Garden of Sadi,—“Many, like me, have viewed this fountain, +but they are gone, and their eyes are closed for ever!”—that she took +occasion, from the melancholy beauty of this passage, to dwell upon +the charms of poetry in general. “It is true,” she said, “few poets +can imitate that sublime bird, which flies always in the air, and +never touches the earth:[153]—it is only once in many ages a Genius +appears, whose words, like those on the Written Mountain, last for +ever:[154] but still there are some, as delightful, perhaps, though +not so wonderful, who, if not stars over our head, are at least +flowers along our path, and whose sweetness of the moment we ought +gratefully to inhale, without calling upon them for a brightness and a +durability beyond their nature. In short,” continued she, blushing, as +if conscious of being caught in an oration, “it is quite cruel that a +poet cannot wander through his regions of enchantment, without having +a critic for ever, like the old Man of the Sea, upon his +back!”[155]—FADLADEEN, it was plain, took this last luckless allusion +to himself, and would treasure it up in his mind as a whetstone for +his next criticism. A sudden silence ensued; and the Princess, +glancing a look at FERAMORZ, saw plainly she must wait for a more +courageous moment. + +But the glories of Nature, and her wild fragrant airs, playing freshly +over the current of youthful spirits, will soon heal even deeper wounds +than the dull Fadladeens of this world can inflict. In an evening or two +after, they came to the small Valley of Gardens, which had been planted +by order of the Emperor, for his favourite sister Rochinara, during +their progress to Cashmere, some years before; and never was there a +more sparkling assemblage of sweets, since the Gulzar-e-Irem, or +Rose-bower of Irem. Every precious flower was there to be found, that +poetry, or love, or religion has ever consecrated; from the dark +hyacinth, to which Hafez compares his mistress’s hair,[156] to the +_Cámalatá_, by whose rosy blossoms the heaven of Indra is scented.[157] +As they sat in the cool fragrance of this delicious spot, and LALLA +ROOKH remarked that she could fancy it the abode of that Flower-loving +Nymph whom they worship in the temples of Kathay,[158] or of one of +those Peris, those beautiful creatures of the air, who live upon +perfumes, and to whom a place like this might make some amends for the +Paradise they have lost,—the young Poet, in whose eyes she appeared, +while she spoke, to be one of the bright spiritual creatures she was +describing, said hesitatingly that he remembered a Story of a Peri, +which, if the Princess had no objection, he would venture to relate. “It +is,” said he, with an appealing look to FADLADEEN, “in a lighter and +humbler strain than the other:” then, striking a few careless but +melancholy chords on his kitar, he thus began:— + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + Paradise & the Peri + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + One morn a Peri at the gate + Of Eden stood, disconsolate; + And as she listen’d to the Springs + Of Life within, like music flowing, + And caught the light upon her wings + Through the half-open portal glowing, + She wept to think her recreant race + Should e’er have lost that glorious place! + + “How happy,” exclaim’d this child of air, + “Are the holy Spirits who wander there, + “Mid flowers that never shall fade or fall; + “Though mine are the gardens of earth and sea, + “And the stars themselves have flowers for me, + “One blossom of Heaven out-blooms them all! + + “Though sunny the Lake of cool CASHMERE, + “With its plane-tree Isle reflected clear,[159] + “And sweetly the founts of that Valley fall; + “Though bright are the waters of SING-SU-HAY, + “And the golden floods that thitherward stray,[160] + “Yet—oh, ’tis only the Blest can say + “How the waters of Heaven outshine them all! + + “Go, wing thy flight from star to star, + “From world to luminous world, as far + “As the universe spreads its flaming wall: + “Take all the pleasures of all the spheres, + “And multiply each through endless years, + “One minute of Heaven is worth them all!” + + The glorious Angel, who was keeping + The gates of Light, beheld her weeping; + And, as he nearer drew and listen’d + To her sad song, a tear-drop glisten’d + Within his eyelids, like the spray + From Eden’s fountain, when it lies + On the blue flower, which—Bramins say— + Blooms nowhere but in Paradise.[161] + + “Nymph of a fair but erring line!” + Gently he said—“One hope is thine. + “’Tis written in the Book of Fate, + “_The Peri yet may be forgiven_ + “_Who brings to this Eternal gate_ + “_The Gift that is most dear to Heaven!_ + “Go, seek it, and redeem thy sin— + “’Tis sweet to let the Pardon’d in.” + + Rapidly as comets run + To the’ embraces of the Sun;— + Fleeter than the starry brands + Flung at night from angel hands,[162] + At those dark and daring sprites + Who would climb the’ empyreal heights, + Down the blue vault the PERI flies, + And, lighted earthward by a glance + That just then broke from morning’s eyes, + Hung hovering o’er our world’s expanse. + + But whither shall the Spirit go + To find this gift for Heaven?—“I know + “The wealth,” she cries, “of every urn, + “In which unnumber’d rubies burn, + “Beneath the pillars of CHILMINAR;[163] + “I know where the Isles of Perfume are, + “Many a fathom down in the sea, + “To the south of sun-bright ARABY;[164] + “I know, too, where the Genii hid + “The jewell’d cup of their King JAMSHID,[165] + “With Life’s elixir sparkling high— + “But gifts like these are not for the sky. + “Where was there ever a gem that shone + “Like the steps of ALLA’S wonderful Throne? + “And the Drops of Life—oh! what would they be + “In the boundless Deep of Eternity?” + + While thus she mus’d, her pinions fann’d + The air of that sweet Indian land, + Whose air is balm; whose ocean spreads + O’er coral rocks, and amber beds:[166] + Whose mountains, pregnant by the beam + Of the warm sun, with diamonds teem; + Whose rivulets are like rich brides, + Lovely, with gold beneath their tides; + Whose sandal groves and bowers of spice + Might be a Peri’s Paradise! + But crimson now her rivers ran + With human blood—the smell of death + Came reeking from those spicy bowers, + And man, the sacrifice of man, + Mingled his taint with every breath + Up wafted from the innocent flowers. + Land of the Sun! what foot invades + Thy Pagods and thy pillar’d shades[167]— + Thy cavern shrines, and Idol stones, + Thy Monarchs and their thousand Thrones?[168] + ’Tis He of GAZNA[169]—fierce in wrath + He comes, and INDIA’S diadems + Lie scatter’d in his ruinous path.— + His bloodhounds he adorns with gems, + Torn from the violated necks + Of many a young and lov’d Sultana;[170] + Maidens, within their pure Zenana, + Priests in the very fane he slaughters, + And choaks up with the glittering wrecks + Of golden shrines the sacred waters! + Downward the PERI turns her gaze, + And, through the war-field’s bloody haze + Beholds a youthful warrior stand, + Alone, beside his native river,— + The red blade broken in his hand, + And the last arrow in his quiver. + “Live,” said the Conqueror, “live to share + “The trophies and the crowns I bear!” + Silent that youthful warrior stood— + Silent he pointed to the flood + All crimson with his country’s blood, + Then sent his last remaining dart, + For answer, to the’ Invader’s heart. + + False flew the shaft, though pointed well; + The Tyrant liv’d, the Hero fell!— + Yet mark’d the PERI where he lay, + And, when the rush of war was past, + Swiftly descending on a ray + Of morning light, she caught the last— + Last glorious drop his heart had shed, + Before its free-born spirit fled! + + “Be this,” she cried, as she wing’d her flight, + “My welcome gift at the Gates of Light. + “Though foul are the drops that oft distil + “On the field of warfare, blood like this, + “For Liberty shed, so holy is,[171] + “It would not stain the purest rill, + “That sparkles among the Bowers of Bliss! + “Oh, if there be, on this earthly sphere, + “A boon, an offering Heaven holds dear, + “’Tis the last libation Liberty draws + “From the heart that bleeds and breaks in her cause!” + + “Sweet,” said the Angel, as she gave + The gift into his radiant hand, + “Sweet is our welcome of the Brave + “Who die thus for their native Land.— + “But see—alas!—the crystal bar + “Of Eden moves not—holier far + “Than even this drop the boon must be, + “That opes the Gates of Heaven for thee!” + + Her first fond hope of Eden blighted, + Now among AFRIC’S lunar Mountains,[172] + Far to the South the PERI lighted; + And sleek’d her plumage at the fountains + Of that Egyptian tide—whose birth + Is hidden from the sons of earth + Deep in those solitary woods, + Where oft the Genii of the Floods + Dance round the cradle of their Nile, + And hail the new-born Giant’s smile.[173] + Thence over EGYPT’S palmy groves, + Her grots, and sepulchres of Kings,[174] + The exil’d Spirit sighing roves; + And now hangs listening to the doves + In warm ROSETTA’S vale[175]—now loves + To watch the moonlight on the wings + Of the white pelicans that break + The azure calm of MŒRIS’ Lake.[176] + ’Twas a fair scene—a Land more bright + Never did mortal eye behold! + Who could have thought, that saw this night + Those valleys and their fruits of gold + Basking in Heaven’s serenest light;— + Those groups of lovely date-trees bending + Languidly their leaf-crown’d heads, + Like youthful maids, when sleep descending + Warns them to their silken beds;[177]— + Those virgin lilies, all the night + Bathing their beauties in the lake, + That they may rise more fresh and bright, + When their beloved Sun’s awake;— + Those ruin’d shrines and towers that seem + The relics of a splendid dream; + Amid whose fairy loneliness + Nought but the lapwing’s cry is heard, + Nought seen but (when the shadows, flitting + Fast from the moon, unsheath its gleam,) + Some purple-wing’d Sultana[178] sitting + Upon a column, motionless + And glittering like an Idol bird!— + Who could have thought, that there, even there, + Amid those scenes so still and fair, + The Demon of the Plague hath cast + From his hot wing a deadlier blast, + More mortal far than ever came + From the red Desert’s sands of flame! + So quick, that every living thing + Of human shape, touch’d by his wing, + Like plants, where the Simoom hath past, + At once falls black and withering! + The sun went down on many a brow, + Which, full of bloom and freshness then, + Is rankling in the pest-house now, + And ne’er will feel that sun again. + And, oh! to see the’ unburied heaps + On which the lonely moonlight sleeps— + The very vultures turn away, + And sicken at so foul a prey! + Only the fierce hyæna stalks[179] + Throughout the city’s desolate walks[180] + At midnight, and his carnage plies:— + Woe to the half-dead wretch, who meets + The glaring of those large blue eyes[181] + Amid the darkness of the streets! + + “Poor race of men!” said the pitying Spirit, + “Dearly ye pay for your primal Fall— + “Some flow’rets of Eden ye still inherit, + “But the trail of the Serpent is over them all!” + She wept—the air grew pure and clear + Around her, as the bright drops ran; + For there’s a magic in each tear + Such kindly Spirits weep for man! + Just then beneath some orange trees, + Whose fruit and blossoms in the breeze + Were wantoning together, free, + Like age at play with infancy— + Beneath that fresh and springing bower, + Close by the Lake, she heard the moan + Of one who, at this silent hour, + Had thither stolen to die alone. + One who in life, where’er he mov’d, + Drew after him the hearts of many; + Yet now, as though he ne’er were lov’d, + Dies here unseen, unwept by any! + None to watch near him—none to slake + The fire that in his bosom lies, + With even a sprinkle from that lake, + Which shines so cool before his eyes. + No voice, well known through many a day, + To speak the last, the parting word, + Which, when all other sounds decay, + Is still like distant music heard;— + That tender farewell on the shore + Of this rude world, when all is o’er, + Which cheers the spirit, ere its bark + Puts off into the unknown Dark. + + Deserted youth! one thought alone + Shed joy around his soul in death— + That she, whom he for years had known, + And lov’d, and might have call’d his own, + Was safe from this foul midnight’s breath,— + Safe in her father’s princely halls, + Where the cool airs from fountain falls, + Freshly perfum’d by many a brand + Of the sweet wood from INDIA’S land, + Were pure as she whose brow they fann’d. + + But see—who yonder comes by stealth,[182] + This melancholy bower to seek, + Like a young envoy, sent by Health, + With rosy gifts upon her cheek? + ’Tis she—far off, through moonlight dim, + He knew his own betrothed bride, + She, who would rather die with him, + Than live to gain the world beside!— + Her arms are round her lover now, + His livid cheek to hers she presses, + And dips, to bind his burning brow, + In the cool lake her loosen’d tresses. + Ah! once, how little did he think + An hour would come, when he should shrink + With horror from that dear embrace, + Those gentle arms, that were to him + Holy as is the cradling place + Of Eden’s infant cherubim! + And now he yields—now turns away, + Shuddering as if the venom lay + All in those proffer’d lips alone— + Those lips that, then so fearless grown, + Never until that instant came + Near his unask’d or without shame. + “Oh! let me only breathe the air, + “That blessed air, that’s breath’d by thee, + “And, whether on its wings it bear + “Healing or death, ’tis sweet to me! + “There—drink my tears, while yet they fall— + “Would that my bosom’s blood were balm, + “And, well thou know’st, I’d shed it all, + “To give thy brow one minute’s calm. + “Nay, turn not from me that dear face— + “Am I not thine—thy own lov’d bride— + “The one, the chosen one, whose place + “In life or death is by thy side? + “Think’st thou that she, whose only light, + “In this dim world, from thee hath shone, + “Could bear the long, the cheerless night, + “That must be hers when thou art gone? + “That I can live, and let thee go, + “Who art my life itself?—No, no— + “When the stem dies, the leaf that grew + “Out of its heart must perish too! + “Then turn to me, my own love, turn, + “Before, like thee, I fade and burn; + “Cling to these yet cool lips, and share + “The last pure life that lingers there!” + She fails—she sinks—as dies the lamp + In charnel airs, or cavern-damp, + So quickly do his baleful sighs + Quench all the sweet light of her eyes. + One struggle—and his pain is past— + Her lover is no longer living! + One kiss the maiden gives, one last, + Long kiss, which she expires in giving! + + “Sleep,” said the PERI, as softly she stole + The farewell sigh of that vanishing soul, + As true as e’er warm’d a woman’s breast— + “Sleep on, in visions of odour rest, + “In balmier airs than ever yet stirr’d + “The’ enchanted pile of that lonely bird, + “Who sings at the last his own death-lay,[183] + “And in music and perfume dies away!” + + Thus saying, from her lips she spread + Unearthly breathings through the place, + And shook her sparkling wreath, and shed + Such lustre o’er each paly face, + That like two lovely saints they seem’d, + Upon the eve of doomsday taken + From their dim graves, in odour sleeping; + While that benevolent PERI beam’d + Like their good angel, calmly keeping + Watch o’er them till their souls would waken. + + But morn is blushing in the sky; + Again the PERI soars above, + Bearing to Heaven that precious sigh + Of pure self-sacrificing love. + High throbb’d her heart, with hope elate, + The’ Elysian palm she soon shall win, + For the bright Spirit at the gate + Smil’d as she gave that offering in; + And she already hears the trees + Of Eden, with their crystal bells + Ringing in that ambrosial breeze + That from the throne of ALLA swells; + And she can see the starry bowls + That lie around that lucid lake, + Upon whose banks admitted Souls + Their first sweet draught of glory take![184] + + But, ah! even PERIS’ hopes are vain— + Again the Fates forbade, again + The’ immortal barrier clos’d—“Not yet,” + The Angel said as, with regret, + He shut from her that glimpse of glory— + “True was the maiden, and her story, + “Written in light o’er ALLA’S head, + “By seraph eyes shall long be read. + “But, PERI, see—the crystal bar + “Of Eden moves not—holier far + “Than even this sigh the boon must be + “That opes the Gates of Heaven for thee.” + + Now, upon SYRIA’S land of roses[185] + Softly the light of Eve reposes, + And, like a glory, the broad sun + Hangs over sainted LEBANON; + Whose head in wintry grandeur towers, + And whitens with eternal sleet, + While summer, in a vale of flowers, + Is sleeping rosy at his feet. + + To one, who look’d from upper air + O’er all the’ enchanted regions there, + How beauteous must have been the glow, + The life, the sparkling from below! + Fair gardens, shining streams, with ranks + Of golden melons on their banks, + More golden where the sun-light falls; + Gay lizards, glittering on the walls[186] + Of ruin’d shrines, busy and bright + As they were all alive with light; + And, yet more splendid, numerous flocks + Of pigeons, settling on the rocks, + With their rich restless wings, that gleam + Variously in the crimson beam + Of the warm West,—as if inlaid + With brilliants from the mine, or made + Of tearless rainbows, such as span + The’ unclouded skies of PERISTAN. + And then the mingling sounds that come + Of shepherd’s ancient reed,[187] with hum + Of the wild bees of PALESTINE,[188] + Banqueting through the flowery vales; + And, JORDAN, those sweet banks of thine, + And woods, so full of nightingales.[189] + + But nought can charm the luckless PERI; + Her soul is sad—her wings are weary— + Joyless she sees the Sun look down + On that great Temple, once his own,[190] + Whose lonely columns stand sublime, + Flinging their shadows from on high, + Like dials, which the wizard, Time, + Had rais’d to count his ages by! + + Yet haply there may lie conceal’d + Beneath those Chambers of the Sun, + Some amulet of gems anneal’d + In upper fires, some tablet seal’d + With the great name of SOLOMON, + Which, spell’d by her illumin’d eyes, + May teach her where, beneath the moon, + In earth or ocean, lies the boon, + The charm, that can restore so soon + An erring Spirit to the skies. + + Cheer’d by this hope she bends her thither;— + Still laughs the radiant eye of Heaven, + Nor have the golden bowers of Even + In the rich West begun to wither;— + When, o’er the vale of BALBEC winging + Slowly, she sees a child at play, + Among the rosy wild flowers singing, + As rosy and as wild as they; + Chasing, with eager hands and eyes, + The beautiful blue damsel flies,[191] + That flutter’d round the jasmine stems, + Like wingèd flowers or flying gems:— + And, near the boy, who tir’d with play + Now nestling ’mid the roses lay, + She saw a wearied man dismount + From his hot steed, and on the brink + Of a small imaret’s rustic fount[192] + Impatient fling him down to drink. + Then swift his haggard brow he turn’d + To the fair child, who fearless sat, + Though never yet hath day-beam burn’d + Upon a brow more fierce than that,— + Sullenly fierce—a mixture dire, + Like thunder-clouds, of gloom and fire; + In which the PERI’S eye could read + Dark tales of many a ruthless deed; + The ruin’d maid—the shrine profan’d— + Oaths broken—and the threshold stain’d + With blood of guests!—_there_ written, all, + Black as the damning drops that fall + From the denouncing Angel’s pen, + Ere Mercy weeps them out again. + + Yet tranquil now that man of crime + (As if the balmy evening time + Soften’d his spirit) look’d and lay, + Watching the rosy infant’s play:— + Though still, whene’er his eye by chance + Fell on the boy’s, its lurid glance + Met that unclouded joyous gaze, + As torches that have burnt all night + Through some impure and godless rite, + Encounter morning’s glorious rays. + + But, hark! the vesper call to prayer, + As slow the orb of daylight sets, + Is rising sweetly on the air, + From SYRIA’S thousand minarets! + The boy has started from the bed + Of flowers, where he had laid his head, + And down upon the fragrant sod + Kneels,[193] with his forehead to the south, + Lisping the’ eternal name of God + From Purity’s own cherub mouth, + And looking, while his hands and eyes + Are lifted to the glowing skies, + Like a stray babe of Paradise, + Just lighted on that flowery plain, + And seeking for its home again. + Oh! ’twas a sight—that Heaven—that child— + A scene, which might have well beguil’d + Even haughty EBLIS of a sigh + For glories lost and peace gone by! + + And how felt _he_, the wretched Man + Reclining there—while memory ran + O’er many a year of guilt and strife, + Flew o’er the dark flood of his life, + Nor found one sunny resting-place, + Nor brought him back one branch of grace! + “There _was_ a time,” he said, in mild, + Heart-humbled tones—“thou blessed child! + “When, young and haply pure as thou, + “I look’d and pray’d like thee—but now—” + He hung his head—each nobler aim, + And hope, and feeling, which had slept + From boyhood’s hour, that instant came + Fresh o’er him, and he wept—he wept! + + Blest tears of soul-felt penitence! + In whose benign, redeeming flow + Is felt the first, the only sense + Of guiltless joy that guilt can know. + + “There’s a drop,” said the PERI, “that down from the moon + “Falls through the withering airs of June + “Upon EGYPT’S land,[194] of so healing a power, + “So balmy a virtue, that e’en in the hour + “The drop descends, contagion dies, + “And health re-animates earth and skies!— + “Oh, is it not thus, thou man of sin, + “The precious tears of repentance fall? + “Though foul thy fiery plagues within, + “One heavenly drop hath dispell’d them all!” + + And now—behold him kneeling there + By the child’s side, in humble prayer, + While the same sunbeam shines upon + The guilty and the guiltless one, + And hymns of joy proclaim through Heaven + The triumph of a Soul Forgiven! + ’Twas when the golden orb had set, + While on their knees they linger’d yet, + There fell a light more lovely far + Than ever came from sun or star, + Upon the tear that, warm and meek, + Dew’d that repentant sinner’s cheek. + To mortal eye this light might seem + A northern flash or meteor beam— + But well the’ enraptur’d PERI knew + ’Twas a bright smile the Angel threw + From Heaven’s gate, to hail that tear + Her harbinger of glory near! + + “Joy, joy for ever! my task is done— + “The Gates are pass’d, and Heaven is won! + “Oh! am I not happy? I am, I am— + “To thee, sweet Eden! how dark and sad + “Are the diamond turrets of SHADUKIAM,[195] + “And the fragrant bowers of AMBERABAD! + “Farewell, ye odours of Earth, that die + “Passing away like a lover’s sigh;— + “My feast is now of the Tooba Tree,[196] + “Whose scent is the breath of Eternity! + + “Farewell, ye vanishing flowers, that shone + “In my fairy wreath, so bright and brief;— + “Oh! what are the brightest that e’er have blown, + “To the lote-tree, springing by ALLA’S throne,[197] + “Whose flowers have a soul in every leaf! + “Joy, joy for ever!—my task is done— + “The Gates are pass’d, and Heaven is won!” + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + +“And this,” said the Great Chamberlain, “is poetry! this flimsy +manufacture of the brain, which, in comparison with the lofty and +durable monuments of genius, is as the gold filigree-work of Zamara +beside the eternal architecture of Egypt!” After this gorgeous sentence, +which, with a few more of the same kind, FADLADEEN kept by him for rare +and important occasions, he proceeded to the anatomy of the short poem +just recited. The lax and easy kind of metre in which it was written +ought to be denounced, he said, as one of the leading causes of the +alarming growth of poetry in our times. If some check were not given to +this lawless facility, we should soon be over-run by a race of bards as +numerous and as shallow as the hundred and twenty thousand Streams of +Basra.[198] They who succeeded in this style deserved chastisement for +their very success;—as warriors have been punished, even after gaining a +victory, because they had taken the liberty of gaining it in an +irregular or unestablished manner. What, then, was to be said to those +who failed? to those who presumed, as in the present lamentable +instance, to imitate the license and ease of the bolder sons of song, +without any of that grace or vigour which gave a dignity even to +negligence;—who, like them, flung the jereed[199] carelessly, but not, +like them, to the mark;—“and who,” said he, raising his voice, to excite +a proper degree of wakefulness in his hearers, “contrive to appear heavy +and constrained in the midst of all the latitude they allow themselves, +like one of those young pagans that dance before the Princess, who is +ingenious enough to move as if her limbs were fettered, in a pair of the +lightest and loosest drawers of Masulipatam!” + +It was but little suitable, he continued, to the grave march of +criticism to follow this fantastical Peri, of whom they had just heard, +through all her flights and adventures between earth and heaven; but he +could not help adverting to the puerile conceitedness of the Three Gifts +which she is supposed to carry to the skies,—a drop of blood, forsooth, +a sigh, and a tear! How the first of these articles was delivered into +the Angel’s “radiant hand” he professed himself at a loss to discover; +and as to the safe carriage of the sigh and the tear, such Peris and +such poets were beings by far too incomprehensible for him even to guess +how they managed such matters. “But, in short,” said he, “it is a waste +of time and patience to dwell longer upon a thing so incurably +frivolous,—puny even among its own puny race, and such as only the +Banyan Hospital[200] for Sick Insects should undertake.” + +In vain did LALLA ROOKH try to soften this inexorable critic; in vain +did she resort to her most eloquent common-places,—reminding him that +poets were a timid and sensitive race, whose sweetness was not to be +drawn forth, like that of the fragrant grass near the Ganges, by +crushing and trampling upon them;[201]—that severity often +extinguished every chance of the perfection which it demanded; and +that, after all, perfection was like the Mountain of the Talisman,—no +one had ever yet reached its summit.[202] Neither these gentle axioms, +nor the still gentler looks with which they were inculcated, could +lower for one instant the elevation of FADLADEEN’S eyebrows, or charm +him into any thing like encouragement, or even toleration, of her +poet. Toleration, indeed, was not among the weaknesses of +FADLADEEN:—he carried the same spirit into matters of poetry and of +religion, and, though little versed in the beauties or sublimities of +either, was a perfect master of the art of persecution in both. His +zeal was the same, too, in either pursuit; whether the game before him +was pagans or poetasters,—worshippers of cows, or writers of epics. + +They had now arrived at the splendid city of Lahore, whose mausoleums +and shrines, magnificent and numberless, where Death appeared to share +equal honours with Heaven, would have powerfully affected the heart and +imagination of LALLA ROOKH, if feelings more of this earth had not taken +entire possession of her already. She was here met by messengers, +despatched from Cashmere, who informed her that the King had arrived in +the Valley, and was himself superintending the sumptuous preparations +that were then making in the Saloons of the Shalimar for her reception. +The chill she felt on receiving this intelligence,—which to a bride +whose heart was free and light would have brought only images of +affection and pleasure,—convinced her that her peace was gone for ever, +and that she was in love, irretrievably in love, with young FERAMORZ. +The veil had fallen off in which this passion at first disguises itself, +and to know that she loved was now as painful as to love _without_ +knowing it had been delicious. FERAMORZ, too,—what misery would be his, +if the sweet hours of intercourse so imprudently allowed them should +have stolen into his heart the same fatal fascination as into hers;—if, +notwithstanding her rank, and the modest homage he always paid to it, +even _he_ should have yielded to the influence of those long and happy +interviews, where music, poetry, the delightful scenes of nature,—all +had tended to bring their hearts close together, and to waken by every +means that too ready passion, which often, like the young of the +desert-bird, is warmed into life by the eyes alone![203] She saw but one +way to preserve herself from being culpable as well as unhappy, and +this, however painful, she was resolved to adopt. FERAMORZ must no more +be admitted to her presence. To have strayed so far into the dangerous +labyrinth was wrong, but to linger in it, while the clue was yet in her +hand, would be criminal. Though the heart she had to offer to the King +of Bucharia might be cold and broken, it should at least be pure; and +she must only endeavour to forget the short dream of happiness she had +enjoyed,—like that Arabian shepherd, who, in wandering into the +wilderness, caught a glimpse of the Gardens of Irim, and then lost them +again for ever![204] + +The arrival of the young Bride at Lahore was celebrated in the most +enthusiastic manner. The Rajas and Omras in her train, who had kept at a +certain distance during the journey, and never encamped nearer to the +Princess than was strictly necessary for her safeguard, here rode in +splendid cavalcade through the city, and distributed the most costly +presents to the crowd. Engines were erected in all the squares, which +cast forth showers of confectionery among the people; while the +artisans, in chariots[205] adorned with tinsel and flying streamers, +exhibited the badges of their respective trades through the streets. +Such brilliant displays of life and pageantry among the palaces, and +domes, and gilded minarets of Lahore, made the city altogether like a +place of enchantment;—particularly on the day when LALLA ROOKH set out +again upon her journey, when she was accompanied to the gate by all the +fairest and richest of the nobility, and rode along between ranks of +beautiful boys and girls, who kept waving over their heads plates of +gold and silver flowers,[206] and then threw them around to be gathered +by the populace. + +For many days after their departure from Lahore, a considerable degree +of gloom hung over the whole party. LALLA ROOKH, who had intended to +make illness her excuse for not admitting the young minstrel, as usual, +to the pavilion, soon found that to feign indisposition was +unnecessary;—FADLADEEN felt the loss of the good road they had hitherto +travelled, and was very near cursing Jehan-Guire (of blessed memory!) +for not having continued his delectable alley of trees,[207] at least as +far as the mountains of Cashmere;—while the Ladies, who had nothing now +to do all day but to be fanned by peacocks’ feathers and listen to +FADLADEEN, seemed heartily weary of the life they led, and, in spite of +all the Great Chamberlain’s criticisms, were so tasteless as to wish for +the poet again. One evening, as they were proceeding to their place of +rest for the night, the Princess, who, for the freer enjoyment of the +air, had mounted her favourite Arabian palfrey, in passing by a small +grove, heard the notes of a lute from within its leaves, and a voice, +which she but too well knew, singing the following words:— + + Tell me not of joys above, + If that world can give no bliss, + Truer, happier than the Love + Which enslaves our souls in this. + + Tell me not of Houris’ eyes;— + Far from me their dangerous glow, + If those looks that light the skies + Wound like some that burn below. + + Who, that feels what Love is here, + All its falsehood—all its pain— + Would, for even Elysium’s sphere, + Risk the fatal dream again? + + Who, that midst a desert’s heat + Sees the waters fade away, + Would not rather die than meet + Streams again as false as they? + +The tone of melancholy defiance in which these words were uttered, went +to LALLA ROOKH’S heart;—and, as she reluctantly rode on, she could not +help feeling it to be a sad but still sweet certainty, that FERAMORZ was +to the full as enamoured and miserable as herself. + +The place where they encamped that evening was the first delightful spot +they had come to since they left Lahore. On one side of them was a grove +full of small Hindoo temples, and planted with the most graceful trees +of the East; where the tamarind, the cassia, and the silken plantains of +Ceylon were mingled in rich contrast with the high fanlike foliage of +the Palmyra,—that favourite tree of the luxurious bird that lights up +the chambers of its nest with fire-flies.[208] In the middle of the lawn +where the pavilion stood there was a tank surrounded by small +mangoe-trees, on the clear cold waters of which floated multitudes of +the beautiful red lotus;[209] while at a distance stood the ruins of a +strange and awful-looking tower, which seemed old enough to have been +the temple of some religion no longer known, and which spoke the voice +of desolation in the midst of all that bloom and loveliness. This +singular ruin excited the wonder and conjectures of all. LALLA ROOKH +guessed in vain, and the all-pretending FADLADEEN, who had never till +this journey been beyond the precincts of Delhi, was proceeding most +learnedly to show that he knew nothing whatever about the matter, when +one of the Ladies suggested that perhaps FERAMORZ could satisfy their +curiosity. They were now approaching his native mountains, and this +tower might perhaps be a relic of some of those dark superstitions, +which had prevailed in that country before the light of Islam dawned +upon it. The Chamberlain, who usually preferred his own ignorance to the +best knowledge that any one else could give him, was by no means pleased +with this officious reference; and the Princess, too, was about to +interpose a faint word of objection, but, before either of them could +speak, a slave was despatched for FERAMORZ, who, in a very few minutes, +made his appearance before them—looking so pale and unhappy in LALLA +ROOKH’S eyes, that she repented already of her cruelty in having so long +excluded him. + +That venerable tower, he told them, was the remains of an ancient +Fire-temple, built by those Ghebers or Persians of the old religion, +who, many hundred years since, had fled hither from their Arab +conquerors,[210] preferring liberty and their altars in a foreign land +to the alternative of apostasy or persecution in their own. It was +impossible, he added, not to feel interested in the many glorious but +unsuccessful struggles, which had been made by these original natives of +Persia to cast off the yoke of their bigoted conquerors. Like their own +Fire in the Burning Field at Bakou,[211] when suppressed in one place, +they had but broken out with fresh flame in another; and, as a native of +Cashmere, of that fair and Holy Valley, which had in the same manner +become the prey of strangers,[212] and seen her ancient shrines and +native princes swept away before the march of her intolerant invaders, +he felt a sympathy, he owned, with the sufferings of the persecuted +Ghebers, which every monument like this before them but tended more +powerfully to awaken. + +It was the first time that FERAMORZ had ever ventured upon so much +_prose_ before FADLADEEN, and it may easily be conceived what effect +such prose as this must have produced upon that most orthodox and +most pagan-hating personage. He sat for some minutes aghast, +ejaculating only at intervals, “Bigoted conquerors!—sympathy with +Fire-worshippers!”[213]—while FERAMORZ, happy to take advantage of +this almost speechless horror of the Chamberlain, proceeded to say +that he knew a melancholy story, connected with the events of one of +those struggles of the brave Fire-worshippers against their Arab +masters, which, if the evening was not too far advanced, he should +have much pleasure in being allowed to relate to the Princess. It +was impossible for LALLA ROOKH to refuse;—he had never before looked +half so animated; and when he spoke of the Holy Valley his eyes had +sparkled, she thought, like the talismanic characters on the +scimitar of Solomon. Her consent was therefore most readily granted; +and while FADLADEEN sat in unspeakable dismay, expecting treason and +abomination in every line, the poet thus began his story of the +Fire-worshippers:— + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + The Fire Worshippers + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + ’Tis moonlight over OMAN’S SEA;[214] + Her banks of pearl and palmy isles + Bask in the night-beam beauteously, + And her blue waters sleep in smiles. + ’Tis moonlight in HARMOZIA’S[215] walls, + And through her EMIR’S porphyry halls, + Where, some hours since, was heard the swell + Of trumpet and the clash of zel,[216] + Bidding the bright-eyed sun farewell;— + The peaceful sun, whom better suits + The music of the bulbul’s nest, + Or the light touch of lovers’ lutes, + To sing him to his golden rest. + All hush’d—there’s not a breeze in motion; + The shore is silent as the ocean. + If zephyrs come, so light they come, + Nor leaf is stirr’d nor wave is driven;— + The wind-tower on the EMIR’S dome[217] + Can hardly win a breath from heaven. + + Even he, that tyrant Arab, sleeps + Calm, while a nation round him weeps; + While curses load the air he breathes, + And falchions from unnumbered sheaths + Are starting to avenge the shame + His race hath brought on IRAN’S[218] name. + Hard, heartless Chief, unmov’d alike + Mid eyes that weep, and swords that strike;— + One of that saintly, murderous brood, + To carnage and the Koran given, + Who think through unbelievers’ blood + Lies their directest path to heaven;— + One, who will pause and kneel unshod + In the warm blood his hand hath pour’d, + To mutter o’er some text of God + Engraven on his reeking sword;[219]— + Nay, who can coolly note the line, + The letter of those words divine, + To which his blade, with searching art, + Had sunk into its victim’s heart! + + Just ALLA! what must be thy look, + When such a wretch before thee stands + Unblushing, with thy Sacred Book,— + Turning the leaves with blood-stain’d hands, + And wresting from its page sublime + His creed of lust, and hate, and crime;— + Even as those bees of TREBIZOND, + Which, from the sunniest flowers that glad + With their pure smile the gardens round, + Draw venom forth that drives men mad.[220] + + Never did fierce ARABIA send + A satrap forth more direly great; + Never was IRAN doom’d to bend + Beneath a yoke of deadlier weight. + Her throne had fallen—her pride was crush’d— + Her sons were willing slaves, nor blush’d, + In their own land,—no more their own,— + To crouch beneath a stranger’s throne. + Her towers, where MITHRA once had burn’d, + To Moslem shrines—oh shame!—were turn’d, + Where slaves, converted by the sword, + Their mean, apostate worship pour’d, + And curs’d the faith their sires ador’d. + Yet has she hearts, mid all this ill, + O’er all this wreck high buoyant still + With hope and vengeance;—hearts that yet— + Like gems, in darkness, issuing rays + They’ve treasur’d from the sun that’s set,— + Beam all the light of long-lost days! + And swords she hath, nor weak nor slow + To second all such hearts can dare; + As he shall know, well, dearly know, + Who sleeps in moonlight luxury there, + Tranquil as if his spirit lay + Becalm’d in Heaven’s approving ray. + Sleep on—for purer eyes than thine + Those waves are hush’d, those planets shine; + Sleep on, and be thy rest unmov’d + By the white moonbeam’s dazzling power;— + None but the loving and the lov’d + Should be awake at this sweet hour. + + And see—where, high above those rocks + That o’er the deep their shadows fling, + Yon turret stands;—where ebon locks, + As glossy as a heron’s wing + Upon the turban of a king,[221] + Hang from the lattice, long and wild— + ’Tis she, that EMIR’S blooming child, + All truth and tenderness and grace, + Though born of such ungentle race;— + An image of Youth’s radiant Fountain + Springing in a desolate mountain![222] + + Oh what a pure and sacred thing + Is Beauty, curtain’d from the sight + Of the gross world, illumining + One only mansion with her light! + Unseen by man’s disturbing eye,— + The flower that blooms beneath the sea, + Too deep for sunbeams, doth not lie + Hid in more chaste obscurity. + So, HINDA, have thy face and mind, + Like holy mysteries, lain enshrin’d. + And oh, what transport for a lover + To lift the veil that shades them o’er!— + Like those who, all at once, discover + In the lone deep some fairy shore, + Where mortal never trod before, + And sleep and wake in scented airs + No lip had ever breath’d but theirs. + + Beautiful are the maids that glide, + On summer-eves, through YEMEN’S[223] dales, + And bright the glancing looks they hide + Behind their litters’ roseate veils;— + And brides, as delicate and fair + As the white jasmine flowers they wear, + Hath YEMEN in her blissful clime, + Who, lull’d in cool kiosk or bower,[224] + Before their mirrors count the time,[225] + And grow still lovelier every hour. + But never yet hath bride or maid + In ARABY’S gay Haram smil’d, + Whose boasted brightness would not fade + Before AL HASSAN’S blooming child. + + Light as the angel shapes that bless + An infant’s dream, yet not the less + Rich in all woman’s loveliness;— + With eyes so pure, that from their ray + Dark Vice would turn abash’d away, + Blinded like serpents, when they gaze + Upon the emerald’s virgin blaze;[226]— + Yet fill’d with all youth’s sweet desires, + Mingling the meek and vestal fires + Of other worlds with all the bliss, + The fond, weak tenderness of this: + A soul, too, more than half divine, + Where, through some shades of earthly feeling. + Religion’s soften’d glories shine, + Like light through summer foliage stealing, + Shedding a glow of such mild hue, + So warm, and yet so shadowy too, + As makes the very darkness there + More beautiful than light elsewhere. + + Such is the maid who, at this hour, + Hath risen from her restless sleep, + And sits alone in that high bower, + Watching the still and shining deep. + Ah! ’twas not thus,—with tearful eyes + And beating heart,—she used to gaze + On the magnificent earth and skies, + In her own land, in happier days. + Why looks she now so anxious down + Among those rocks, whose rugged frown + Blackens the mirror of the deep? + Whom waits she all this lonely night? + Too rough the rocks, too bold the steep, + For man to scale that turret’s height!— + + So deem’d at least her thoughtful sire, + When high, to catch the cool night-air, + After the day-beam’s withering fire,[227] + He built her bower of freshness there, + And had it deck’d with costliest skill, + And fondly thought it safe as fair:— + Think, reverend dreamer! think so still, + Nor wake to learn what Love can dare;— + Love, all-defying Love, who sees + No charm in trophies won with ease;— + Whose rarest, dearest fruits of bliss + Are pluck’d on Danger’s precipice! + Bolder than they who dare not dive + For pearls, but when the sea’s at rest, + Love, in the tempest most alive, + Hath ever held that pearl the best + He finds beneath the stormiest water. + Yes—ARABY’S unrivall’d daughter, + Though high that tower, that rock-way rude, + There’s one who, but to kiss thy cheek, + Would climb the’ untrodden solitude + Of ARARAT’S tremendous peak,[228] + And think its steeps, though dark and dread, + Heaven’s pathways, if to thee they led! + Even now thou seest the flashing spray, + That lights his oar’s impatient way;— + Even now thou hear’st the sudden shock + Of his swift bark against the rock, + And stretchest down thy arms of snow, + As if to lift him from below! + Like her to whom, at dead of night, + The bridegroom, with his locks of light,[229] + Came, in the flush of love and pride, + And scal’d the terrace of his bride;— + When, as she saw him rashly spring, + And midway up in danger cling, + She flung him down her long black hair, + Exclaiming, breathless, “There, love, there!” + And scarce did manlier nerve uphold + The hero ZAL in that fond hour, + Than wings the youth who, fleet and bold, + Now climbs the rocks to HINDA’S bower. + See—light as up their granite steeps + The rock-goats of ARABIA clamber,[230] + Fearless from crag to crag he leaps, + And now is in the maiden’s chamber. + + She loves—but knows not whom she loves, + Nor what his race, nor whence he came;— + Like one who meets, in Indian groves, + Some beauteous bird without a name, + Brought by the last ambrosial breeze, + From isles in the’ undiscover’d seas, + To show his plumage for a day + To wondering eyes, and wing away! + Will _he_ thus fly—her nameless lover? + ALLA forbid! ’twas by a moon + As fair as this, while singing over + Some ditty to her soft Kanoon,[231] + Alone, at this same witching hour, + She first beheld his radiant eyes + Gleam through the lattice of the bower, + Where nightly now they mix their sighs; + And thought some spirit of the air + (For what could waft a mortal there?) + Was pausing on his moonlight way + To listen to her lonely lay! + This fancy ne’er hath left her mind: + And—though, when terror’s swoon had past, + She saw a youth, of mortal kind, + Before her in obeisance cast,— + Yet often since, when he hath spoken + Strange, awful words,—and gleams have broken + From his dark eyes, too bright to bear, + Oh! she hath fear’d her soul was given + To some unhallow’d child of air, + Some erring Spirit cast from heaven, + Like those angelic youths of old, + Who burn’d for maids of mortal mould, + Bewilder’d left the glorious skies, + And lost their heaven for woman’s eyes. + Fond girl! nor fiend nor angel he + Who woos thy young simplicity; + But one of earth’s impassion’d sons, + As warm in love, as fierce in ire, + As the best heart whose current runs + Full of the Day-God’s living fire. + But quench’d to-night that ardour seems, + And pale his cheek, and sunk his brow;— + Never before, but in her dreams, + Had she beheld him pale as now: + And those were dreams of troubled sleep, + From which ’twas joy to wake and weep; + Visions, that will not be forgot, + But sadden every waking scene, + Like warning ghosts, that leave the spot + All wither’d where they once have been. + + “How sweetly,” said the trembling maid, + Of her own gentle voice afraid, + So long had they in silence stood, + Looking upon that tranquil flood— + “How sweetly does the moon-beam smile + “To-night upon yon leafy isle! + “Oft, in my fancy’s wanderings, + “I’ve wish’d that little isle had wings, + “And we, within its fairy bowers, + “Were wafted off to seas unknown, + “Where not a pulse should beat but ours, + “And we might live, love, die alone! + “Far from the cruel and the cold,— + “Where the bright eyes of angels only + “Should come around us, to behold + “A paradise so pure and lonely. + “Would this be world enough for thee?”— + Playful she turn’d, that he might see + The passing smile her cheek put on; + But when she mark’d how mournfully + His eyes met hers, that smile was gone; + And, bursting into heart-felt tears, + “Yes, yes,” she cried, “my hourly fears, + “My dreams have boded all too right— + “We part—for ever part—to-night! + “I knew, I knew it _could_ not last— + “’Twas bright, ’twas heavenly, but ’tis past + “Oh! ever thus, from childhood’s hour, + “I’ve seen my fondest hopes decay; + “I never lov’d a tree or flower, + “But ’twas the first to fade away. + “I never nurs’d a dear gazelle, + “To glad me with its soft black eye, + “But when it came to know me well, + “And love me, it was sure to die! + “Now too—the joy most like divine + “Of all I ever dreamt or knew, + “To see thee, hear thee, call thee mine,— + “Oh misery! must I lose _that_ too? + Yet go—on peril’s brink we meet;— + “Those frightful rocks—that treacherous sea— + “No, never come again—though sweet, + “Though heaven, it may be death to thee. + “Farewell—and blessings on thy way, + “Where’er thou goest, beloved stranger! + “Better to sit and watch that ray, + “And think thee safe, though far away, + “Than have thee near me, and in danger!” + + “Danger!—oh, tempt me not to boast—” + The youth exclaim’d—“thou little know’st + “What he can brave, who, born and nurst + “In Danger’s paths, has dar’d her worst; + “Upon whose ear the signal word + “Of strife and death is hourly breaking; + “Who sleeps with head upon the sword + “His fever’d hand must grasp in waking. + “Danger!—” + “Say on—thou fear’st not then, + “And we may meet—oft meet again?” + + “Oh! look not so—beneath the skies + “I now fear nothing but those eyes. + “If aught on earth could charm or force + “My spirit from its destin’d course,— + “If aught could make this soul forget + “The bond to which its seal is set, + “’Twould be those eyes;—they, only they, + “Could melt that sacred seal away! + “But no—’tis fix’d—_my_ awful doom + “Is fix’d—on this side of the tomb + “We meet no more;—why, why did Heaven + “Mingle two souls that earth has riven, + “Has rent asunder wide as ours? + “Oh, Arab maid, as soon the Powers + “Of Light and Darkness may combine, + “As I be link’d with thee or thine! + “Thy Father⸺” + “Holy ALLA save + “Thou know’st him not—he loves the brave; + “Nor lives there under heaven’s expanse + “One who would prize, would worship thee + “And thy bold spirit, more than he. + “Oft when, in childhood, I have play’d + “With the bright falchion by his side, + “I’ve heard him swear his lisping maid + “In time should be a warrior’s bride. + “And still, whene’er at Haram hours + “I take him cool sherbets and flowers, + “He tells me, when in playful mood, + “A hero shall my bridegroom be, + “Since maids are best in battle woo’d, + “And won with shouts of victory! + “Nay, turn not from me—thou alone + “Art form’d to make both hearts thy own. + “Go—join his sacred ranks—thou know’st + “The’ unholy strife these Persians wage:— + “Good Heaven, that frown!—even now thou glow’st + “With more than mortal warrior’s rage. + “Haste to the camp by morning’s light, + “And, when that sword is raised in fight, + “Oh still remember, Love and I + “Beneath its shadow trembling lie! + “One victory o’er those Slaves of Fire, + “Those impious Ghebers, whom my sire + “Abhors⸺” + “Hold, hold—thy words are death—” + The stranger cried, as wild he flung + His mantle back, and show’d beneath + The Gheber belt that round him clung.—[232] + “Here, maiden, look—weep—blush to see + “All that thy sire abhors in me! + “Yes—_I_ am of that impious race, + “Those Slaves of Fire, who, morn and even, + “Hail their Creator’s dwelling-place + “Among the living lights of heaven:[233] + “Yes—_I_ am of that outcast few, + “To IRAN and to vengeance true, + “Who curse the hour your Arabs came + “To desolate our shrines of flame, + “And swear, before God’s burning eye, + “To break our country’s chains, or die! + “Thy bigot sire,—nay, tremble not,— + “He, who gave birth to those dear eyes, + “With me is sacred as the spot + “From which our fires of worship rise! + “But know—’twas he I sought that night, + “When, from my watch-boat on the sea, + “I caught this turret’s glimmering light, + “And up the rude rocks desperately + “Rush’d to my prey—thou know’st the rest— + “I climb’d the gory vulture’s nest, + “And found a trembling dove within;— + “Thine, thine the victory—thine the sin— + “If Love hath made one thought his own, + “That Vengeance claims first—last—alone! + “Oh! had we never, never met, + “Or could this heart e’en now forget + “How link’d, how bless’d we might have been, + “Had fate not frown’d so dark between! + “Hadst thou been born a Persian maid, + “In neighbouring valleys had we dwelt, + “Through the same fields in childhood play’d, + “At the same kindling altar knelt,— + “Then, then, while all those nameless ties, + “In which the charm of Country lies, + “Had round our hearts been hourly spun, + “Till IRAN’S cause and thine were one; + “While in thy lute’s awakening sigh + “I heard the voice of days gone by, + “And saw, in every smile of thine, + “Returning hours of glory shine;— + “While the wrong’d Spirit of our Land + “Liv’d, look’d, and spoke her wrongs through thee,— + “God! who could then this sword withstand? + “Its very flash were victory! + “But now—estrang’d, divorc’d for ever, + “Far as the grasp of Fate can sever; + “Our only ties what love has wove,— + “In faith, friends, country, sunder’d wide; + “And then, then only, true to love, + “When false to all that’s dear beside! + “Thy father IRAN’S deadliest foe— + “Thyself perhaps, even now—but no— + “Hate never look’d so lovely yet! + “No—sacred to thy soul will be + “The land of him who could forget + “All but that bleeding land for thee. + “When other eyes shall see, unmov’d, + “Her widows mourn, her warriors fall, + “Thou’lt think how well one Gheber lov’d, + “And for _his_ sake thou’lt weep for all! + “But look⸺” + With sudden start he turn’d + And pointed to the distant wave, + Where lights, like charnel meteors, burn’d + Bluely, as o’er some seaman’s grave; + And fiery darts, at intervals,[234] + Flew up all sparkling from the main, + As if each star that nightly falls, + Were shooting back to heaven again. + “My signal lights!—I must away— + “Both, both are ruin’d, if I stay. + “Farewell—sweet life! thou cling’st in vain— + “Now, Vengeance, I am thine again!” + + Fiercely he broke away, nor stopp’d, + Nor look’d—but from the lattice dropp’d + Down ’mid the pointed crags beneath, + As if he fled from love to death. + While pale and mute young HINDA stood + Nor mov’d, till in the silent flood + A momentary plunge below + Startled her from her trance of woe;— + Shrieking she to the lattice flew, + “I come—I come—if in that tide + “Thou sleep’st to-night, I’ll sleep there too, + “In death’s cold wedlock, by thy side. + “Oh! I would ask no happier bed + “Than the chill wave my love lies under:— + “Sweeter to rest together dead, + “Far sweeter, than to live asunder!” + But no—their hour is not yet come— + Again she sees his pinnace fly, + Wafting him fleetly to his home, + Where’er that ill-starr’d home may lie; + And calm and smooth it seem’d to win + Its moonlight way before the wind, + As if it bore all peace within, + Nor left one breaking heart behind! + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + +The Princess, whose heart was sad enough already, could have wished that +FERAMORZ had chosen a less melancholy story; as it is only to the happy +that tears are a luxury. Her Ladies, however, were by no means sorry +that love was once more the Poet’s theme; for, whenever he spoke of +love, they said, his voice was as sweet as if he had chewed the leaves +of that enchanted tree, which grows over the tomb of the musician, +Tan-Sein.[235] + +Their road all the morning had lain through a very dreary +country;—through valleys, covered with a low bushy jungle, where, in +more than one place, the awful signal of the bamboo staff,[236] with the +white flag at its top, reminded the traveller that, in that very spot, +the tiger had made some human creature his victim. It was, therefore, +with much pleasure that they arrived at sunset in a safe and lovely +glen, and encamped under one of those holy trees, whose smooth columns +and spreading roofs seem to destine them for natural temples of +religion. Beneath this spacious shade, some pious hands had erected a +row of pillars ornamented with the most beautiful porcelain,[237] which +now supplied the use of mirrors to the young maidens, as they adjusted +their hair in descending from the palankeens. Here, while, as usual, the +Princess sat listening anxiously, with FADLADEEN in one of his loftiest +moods of criticism by her side, the young Poet, leaning against a branch +of the tree, thus continued his story:— + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + The morn hath risen clear and calm, + And o’er the Green Sea[238] palely shines, + Revealing BAHREIN’S[239] groves of palm, + And lighting KISHMA’S[239] amber vines. + Fresh smell the shores of ARABY, + While breezes from the Indian sea + Blow round SELAMA’S[240] sainted cape, + And curl the shining flood beneath,— + Whose waves are rich with many a grape, + And cocoa-nut and flowery wreath, + Which pious seamen, as they pass’d, + Had tow’rd that holy headland cast— + Oblations to the Genii there + For gentle skies and breezes fair! + The nightingale now bends her flight[241] + From the high trees, where all the night + She sung so sweet, with none to listen; + And hides her from the morning star + Where thickets of pomegranate glisten + In the clear dawn,—bespangled o’er + With dew, whose night drops would not stain + The best and brightest scimitar[242] + That ever youthful Sultan wore + On the first morning of his reign. + + And see—the Sun himself!—on wings + Of glory up the East he springs. + Angel of Light! who from the time + Those heavens began their march sublime, + Hath first of all the starry choir + Trod in his Maker’s steps of fire! + Where are the days, thou wondrous sphere, + When IRAN, like a sun-flower, turn’d + To meet that eye where’er it burn’d?— + When, from the banks of BENDEMEER + To the nut-groves of SAMARCAND, + Thy temples flam’d o’er all the land? + Where are they? ask the shades of them + Who, on CADESSIA’S[243] bloody plains, + Saw fierce invaders pluck the gem + From IRAN’S broken diadem, + And bind her ancient faith in chains:— + Ask the poor exile, cast alone + On foreign shores, unlov’d, unknown, + Beyond the Caspian’s Iron Gates,[244] + Or on the snowy Mossian mountains, + Far from his beauteous land of dates, + Her jasmine bowers and sunny fountains: + Yet happier so than if he trod + His own belov’d, but blighted, sod, + Beneath a despot stranger’s nod!— + Oh, he would rather houseless roam + Where Freedom and his God may lead, + Than be the sleekest slave at home + That crouches to the conqueror’s creed! + Is IRAN’S pride then gone for ever, + Quench’d with the flame in MITHRA’S caves?— + No—she has sons, that never—never— + Will stoop to be the Moslem’s slaves, + While heaven has light or earth has graves;— + Spirits of fire, that brood not long, + But flash resentment back for wrong; + And hearts where, slow but deep, the seeds + Of vengeance ripen into deeds, + Till, in some treacherous hour of calm, + They burst, like ZEILAN’S giant palm,[245] + Whose buds fly open with a sound + That shakes the pigmy forests round! + + Yes, EMIR! he, who scal’d that tower, + And, had he reach’d thy slumbering breast, + Had taught thee, in a Gheber’s power + How safe e’en tyrant heads may rest— + Is one of many, brave as he, + Who loathe thy haughty race and thee; + Who, though they know the strife is vain, + Who, though they know the riven chain + Snaps but to enter in the heart + Of him who rends its links apart, + Yet dare the issue,—blest to be + E’en for one bleeding moment free, + And die in pangs of liberty! + Thou know’st them well—’tis some moons since + Thy turban’d troops and blood-red flags, + Thou satrap of a bigot Prince, + Have swarm’d among these Green Sea crags; + Yet here, e’en here, a sacred band, + Ay, in the portal of that land + Thou, Arab, dar’st to call thy own, + Their spears across thy path have thrown; + Here—ere the winds half wing’d thee o’er— + Rebellion brav’d thee from the shore. + + Rebellion! foul, dishonouring word, + Whose wrongful blight so oft has stain’d + The holiest cause that tongue or sword + Of mortal ever lost or gain’d. + How many a spirit, born to bless, + Hath sunk beneath that withering name, + Whom but a day’s, an hour’s success + Had wafted to eternal fame! + As exhalations, when they burst + From the warm earth, if chill’d at first, + If check’d in soaring from the plain, + Darken to fogs and sink again;— + But, if they once triumphant spread + Their wings above the mountain-head, + Become enthroned in upper air, + And turn to sun-bright glories there! + + And who is he, that wields the might + Of Freedom on the Green Sea brink, + Before whose sabre’s dazzling light[246] + The eyes of YEMEN’S warriors wink? + Who comes, embower’d in the spears + Of KERMAN’S hardy mountaineers?— + Those mountaineers that truest, last, + Cling to their country’s ancient rites, + As if that God, whose eyelids cast + Their closing gleam on IRAN’S heights, + Among her snowy mountains threw + The last light of his worship too! + + ’Tis HAFED—name of fear, whose sound + Chills like the muttering of a charm!— + Shout but that awful name around, + And palsy shakes the manliest arm. + ’Tis HAFED, most accurs’d and dire + (So rank’d by Moslem hate and ire) + Of all the rebel Sons of Fire; + Of whose malign, tremendous power + The Arabs, at their mid-watch hour, + Such tales of fearful wonder tell, + That each affrighted sentinel + Pulls down his cowl upon his eyes, + Lest HAFED in the midst should rise! + A man, they say, of monstrous birth, + A mingled race of flame and earth, + Sprung from those old, enchanted kings,[247] + Who in their fairy helms, of yore, + A feather from the mystic wings + Of the Simoorgh resistless wore; + And gifted by the Fiends of Fire, + Who groan’d to see their shrines expire, + With charms that, all in vain withstood, + Would drown the Koran’s light in blood! + + Such were the tales, that won belief, + And such the colouring Fancy gave + To a young, warm, and dauntless Chief,— + One who, no more than mortal brave, + Fought for the land his soul ador’d, + For happy homes and altars free,— + His only talisman, the sword, + His only spell-word, Liberty! + One of that ancient hero line, + Along whose glorious current shine + Names, that have sanctified their blood; + As LEBANON’S small mountain-flood + Is render’d holy by the ranks + Of sainted cedars on its banks.[248] + ’Twas not for him to crouch the knee + Tamely to Moslem tyranny; + ’Twas not for him, whose soul was cast + In the bright mould of ages past, + Whose melancholy spirit, fed + With all the glories of the dead, + Though fram’d for IRAN’S happiest years, + Was born among her chains and tears!— + ’Twas not for him to swell the crowd + Of slavish heads, that shrinking bow’d + Before the Moslem, as he pass’d, + Like shrubs beneath the poison-blast— + No—far he fled—indignant fled + The pageant of his country’s shame; + While every tear her children shed + Fell on his soul like drops of flame; + And, as a lover hails the dawn + Of a first smile, so welcom’d he + The sparkle of the first sword drawn + For vengeance and for liberty! + + But vain was valour—vain the flower + Of KERMAN, in that deathful hour, + Against AL HASSAN’S whelming power.— + In vain they met him, helm to helm, + Upon the threshold of that realm + He came in bigot pomp to sway, + And with their corpses block’d his way— + In vain—for every lance they rais’d, + Thousands around the conqueror blaz’d; + For every arm that lin’d their shore, + Myriads of slaves were wafted o’er,— + A bloody, bold, and countless crowd, + Before whose swarm as fast they bow’d + As dates beneath the locust cloud. + + There stood—but one short league away + From old HARMOZIA’S sultry bay— + A rocky mountain, o’er the Sea + Of OMAN beetling awfully:[249] + A last and solitary link + Of those stupendous chains that reach + From the broad Caspian’s reedy brink + Down winding to the Green Sea beach. + Around its base the bare rocks stood, + Like naked giants, in the flood, + As if to guard the Gulf across; + While, on its peak, that brav’d the sky, + A ruin’d Temple tower’d, so high + That oft the sleeping albatross[250] + Struck the wild ruins with her wing, + And from her cloud-rock’d slumbering + Started—to find man’s dwelling there + In her own silent fields of air! + Beneath, terrific caverns gave + Dark welcome to each stormy wave + That dash’d, like midnight revellers, in;— + And such the strange, mysterious din + At times throughout those caverns roll’d,— + And such the fearful wonders told + Of restless sprites imprison’d there, + That bold were Moslem, who would dare, + At twilight hour, to steer his skiff + Beneath the Gheber’s lonely cliff.[251] + + On the land side, those towers sublime, + That seem’d above the grasp of Time, + Were sever’d from the haunts of men + By a wide, deep, and wizard glen, + So fathomless, so full of gloom, + No eye could pierce the void between: + It seem’d a place where Gholes might come + With their foul banquets from the tomb, + And in its caverns feed unseen. + Like distant thunder, from below, + The sound of many torrents came, + Too deep for eye or ear to know + If ’twere the sea’s imprison’d flow, + Or floods of ever-restless flame. + For, each ravine, each rocky spire + Of that vast mountain stood on fire;[252] + And, though for ever past the days + When God was worshipp’d in the blaze + That from its lofty altar shone,— + Though fled the priests, the votaries gone, + Still did the mighty flame burn on,[253] + Through chance and change, through good and ill, + Like its own God’s eternal will, + Deep, constant, bright, unquenchable! + + Thither the vanquish’d HAFED led + His little army’s last remains;— + “Welcome, terrific glen!” he said, + “Thy gloom, that EBLIS’ self might dread, + “Is Heaven to him who flies from chains!” + O’er a dark, narrow bridge-way, known + To him and to his Chiefs alone, + They cross’d the chasm and gain’d the towers,— + “This home,” he cried, “at least is ours;— + “Here we may bleed, unmock’d by hymns + “Of Moslem triumph o’er our head; + “Here we may fall, nor leave our limbs + “To quiver to the Moslem’s tread. + “Stretch’d on this rock, while vultures’ beaks + “Are whetted on our yet warm cheeks, + “Here—happy that no tyrant’s eye + “Gloats on our torments—we may die!”— + + ’Twas night when to those towers they came, + And gloomily the fitful flame, + That from the ruin’d altar broke, + Glar’d on his features, as he spoke:— + “’Tis o’er—what men could do, we’ve done— + “If IRAN _will_ look tamely on, + “And see her priests, her warriors driven + “Before a sensual bigot’s nod, + “A wretch, who shrines his lusts in heaven, + “And makes a pander of his God; + “If her proud sons, her high-born souls, + “Men, in whose veins—oh last disgrace! + “The blood of ZAL and RUSTAM[254] rolls,— + “If they _will_ court this upstart race, + “And turn from MITHRA’S ancient ray, + “To kneel at shrines of yesterday; + “If they _will_ crouch to IRAN’S foes, + “Why, let them—till the land’s despair + “Cries out to Heaven, and bondage grows + “Too vile for e’en the vile to bear! + “Till shame at last, long hidden, burns + “Their inmost core, and conscience turns + “Each coward tear the slave lets fall + “Back on his heart in drops of gall. + “But _here_, at least, are arms unchain’d, + “And souls that thraldom never stain’d;— + “This spot, at least, no foot of slave + “Or satrap ever yet profan’d; + “And though but few—though fast the wave + “Of life is ebbing from our veins, + “Enough for vengeance still remains. + “As panthers, after set of sun, + “Rush from the roots of LEBANON + “Across the dark sea-robber’s way,[255] + “We’ll bound upon our startled prey; + “And when some hearts that proudest swell + “Have felt our falchion’s last farewell; + “When Hope’s expiring throb is o’er, + “And e’en despair can prompt no more, + “This spot shall be the sacred grave + “Of the last few who, vainly brave, + “Die for the land they cannot save!” + + His Chiefs stood round—each shining blade + Upon the broken altar laid— + And though so wild and desolate + Those courts, where once the Mighty sate; + No longer on those mouldering towers + Was seen the feast of fruits and flowers, + With which of old the Magi fed + The wandering Spirits of their Dead;[256] + Though neither priest nor rites were there, + Nor charmed leaf of pure pomegranate;[257] + Nor hymn, nor censer’s fragrant air, + Nor symbol of their worshipp’d planet;[258] + Yet the same God that heard their sires + Heard _them_, while on that altar’s fires + They swore[259] the latest, holiest deed + Of the few hearts, still left to bleed, + Should be, in IRAN’S injur’d name, + To die upon that Mount of Flame— + The last of all her patriot line, + Before her last untrampled Shrine! + + Brave, suffering souls! they little knew + How many a tear their injuries drew + From one meek maid, one gentle foe, + Whom love first touch’d with others’ woe— + Whose life, as free from thought as sin, + Slept like a lake, till Love threw in + His talisman, and woke the tide, + And spread its trembling circles wide. + Once, EMIR! thy unheeding child, + ’Mid all this havoc, bloom’d and smil’d,— + Tranquil as on some battle plain + The Persian lily shines and towers,[260] + Before the combat’s reddening stain + Hath fall’n upon her golden flowers. + Light-hearted maid, unaw’d, unmov’d, + While Heaven but spar’d the sire she lov’d, + Once at thy evening tales of blood + Unlistening and aloof she stood— + And oft, when thou hast pac’d along + Thy Haram halls with furious heat, + Hast thou not curs’d her cheerful song, + That came across thee, calm and sweet, + Like lutes of angels, touch’d so near + Hell’s confines, that the damn’d can hear! + + Far other feelings Love hath brought— + Her soul all flame, her brow all sadness, + She now has but the one dear thought, + And thinks that o’er, almost to madness! + Oft doth her sinking heart recall + His words—“For _my_ sake weep for all;” + And bitterly, as day on day + Of rebel carnage fast succeeds, + She weeps a lover snatch’d away + In every Gheber wretch that bleeds. + There’s not a sabre meets her eye, + But with his life-blood seems to swim; + There’s not an arrow wings the sky, + But fancy turns its point to him. + No more she brings with footstep light + AL HASSAN’S falchion for the fight; + And—had he look’d with clearer sight, + Had not the mists, that ever rise + From a foul spirit, dimm’d his eyes— + He would have mark’d her shuddering frame, + When from the field of blood he came, + The faltering speech—the look estrang’d— + Voice, step, and life, and beauty chang’d— + He would have mark’d all this, and known + Such change is wrought by Love alone! + + Ah! not the Love, that should have bless’d + So young, so innocent a breast; + Not the pure, open, prosperous Love, + That, pledg’d on earth and seal’d above, + Grows in the world’s approving eyes, + In friendship’s smile and home’s caress, + Collecting all the heart’s sweet ties + Into one knot of happiness! + No, HINDA, no,—thy fatal flame + Is nurs’d in silence, sorrow, shame;— + A passion, without hope or pleasure, + In thy soul’s darkness buried deep, + It lies, like some ill-gotten treasure,— + Some idol, without shrine or name, + O’er which its pale-eyed votaries keep + Unholy watch, while others sleep. + + Seven nights have darken’d OMAN’S sea, + Since last, beneath the moonlight ray, + She saw his light oar rapidly + Hurry her Gheber’s bark away,— + And still she goes, at midnight hour, + To weep alone in that high bower, + And watch, and look along the deep + For him whose smiles first made her weep;— + But watching, weeping, all was vain, + She never saw his bark again. + The owlet’s solitary cry, + The night-hawk, flitting darkly by, + And oft the hateful carrion bird, + Heavily flapping his clogg’d wing, + Which reek’d with that day’s banqueting— + Was all she saw, was all she heard. + + ’Tis the eighth morn—AL HASSAN’S brow + Is brighten’d with unusual joy— + What mighty mischief glads him now, + Who never smiles but to destroy? + The sparkle upon HERKEND’S Sea, + When toss’d at midnight furiously,[261] + Tells not of wreck and ruin nigh, + More surely than that smiling eye! + “Up, daughter, up—the KERNA’S[262] breath + “Has blown a blast would waken death, + “And yet thou sleep’st—up, child, and see + “This blessed day for Heaven and me, + “A day more rich in Pagan blood + “Than ever flash’d o’er OMAN’S flood. + “Before another dawn shall shine, + “His head—heart—limbs—will all be mine; + “This very night his blood shall steep + “These hands all over ere I sleep!”— + “_His_ blood!” she faintly scream’d—her mind + Still singling _one_ from all mankind— + “Yes—spite of his ravines and towers, + “HAFED, my child, this night is ours. + “Thanks to all-conquering treachery, + “Without whose aid the links accurst, + “That bind these impious slaves, would be + “Too strong for ALLA’S self to burst! + “That rebel fiend, whose blade has spread + “My path with piles of Moslem dead, + “Whose baffling spells had almost driven + “Back from their course the Swords of Heaven, + “This night, with all his band, shall know + “How deep an Arab’s steel can go, + “When God and Vengeance speed the blow. + “And—Prophet! by that holy wreath + “Thou wor’st on OHOD’S field of death,[263] + “I swear, for every sob that parts + “In anguish from these heathen hearts, + “A gem from PERSIA’S plunder’d mines + “Shall glitter on thy Shrine of Shrines. + “But, ha!—she sinks—that look so wild— + “Those livid lips—my child, my child, + “This life of blood befits not thee, + “And thou must back to ARABY. + “Ne’er had I risk’d thy timid sex + “In scenes that man himself might dread, + “Had I not hop’d our every tread + “Would be on prostrate Persian necks— + “Curst race, they offer swords instead! + “But cheer thee, maid,—the wind that now + “Is blowing o’er thy feverish brow, + “To-day shall waft thee from the shore; + “And, ere a drop of this night’s gore + “Have time to chill in yonder towers, + “Thou’lt see thy own sweet Arab bowers!” + + His bloody boast was all too true; + There lurk’d one wretch among the few + Whom HAFED’S eagle eye could count + Around him on that Fiery Mount,— + One miscreant, who for gold betray’d + The pathway through the valley’s shade + To those high towers, where Freedom stood + In her last hold of flame and blood. + Left on the field last dreadful night, + When, sallying from their Sacred height, + The Ghebers fought hope’s farewell fight, + He lay—but died not with the brave; + That sun, which should have gilt his grave, + Saw him a traitor and a slave;— + And, while the few, who thence return’d + To their high rocky fortress mourn’d + For him among the matchless dead + They left behind on glory’s bed, + He liv’d, and, in the face of morn, + Laugh’d them and Faith and Heaven to scorn. + + Oh for a tongue to curse the slave, + Whose treason, like a deadly blight, + Comes o’er the councils of the brave, + And blasts them in their hour of might! + May Life’s unblessed cup for him + Be drugg’d with treacheries to the brim,— + With hopes, that but allure to fly, + With joys, that vanish while he sips, + Like Dead Sea fruits, that tempt the eye, + But turn to ashes on the lips![264] + His country’s curse, his children’s shame, + Outcast of virtue, peace, and fame, + May he, at last, with lips of flame + On the parch’d desert thirsting die,— + While lakes, that shone in mockery nigh,[265] + Are fading off, untouch’d, untasted, + Like the once glorious hopes he blasted! + And, when from earth his spirit flies, + Just Prophet, let the damn’d one dwell + Full in the sight of Paradise, + Beholding heaven, and feeling hell! + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + +LALLA ROOKH had, the night before, been visited by a dream which, in +spite of the impending fate of poor HAFED, made her heart more than +usually cheerful during the morning, and gave her cheeks all the +freshened animation of a flower that the Bid-musk had just passed +over.[266] She fancied that she was sailing on that Eastern Ocean, where +the sea-gipsies, who live for ever on the water,[267] enjoy a perpetual +summer in wandering from isle to isle, when she saw a small gilded bark +approaching her. It was like one of those boats which the Maldivian +islanders send adrift, at the mercy of winds and waves, loaded with +perfumes, flowers, and odoriferous wood, as an offering to the Spirit +whom they call King of the Sea. At first, this little bark appeared to +be empty, but, on coming nearer⸺ + +She had proceeded thus far in relating the dream to her Ladies, when +FERAMORZ appeared at the door of the pavilion. In his presence, of +course, every thing else was forgotten, and the continuance of the story +was instantly requested by all. Fresh wood of aloes was set to burn in +the cassolets;—the violet sherbets[268] were hastily handed round, and +after a short prelude on his lute, in the pathetic measure of Nava,[269] +which is always used to express the lamentations of absent lovers, the +Poet thus continued:— + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + The day is lowering—stilly black + Sleeps the grim wave, while heaven’s rack, + Dispers’d and wild, ’twixt earth and sky + Hangs like a shatter’d canopy. + There’s not a cloud in that blue plain + But tells of storm to come or past;— + Here, flying loosely as the mane + Of a young war-horse in the blast;— + There, roll’d in masses dark and swelling, + As proud to be the thunder’s dwelling! + While some, already burst and riven, + Seem melting down the verge of heaven; + As though the infant storm had rent + The mighty womb that gave him birth, + And, having swept the firmament, + Was now in fierce career for earth. + On earth ’twas yet all calm around, + A pulseless silence, dread, profound, + More awful than the tempest’s sound. + The diver steer’d for ORMUS’ bowers, + And moor’d his skiff till calmer hours; + The sea-birds, with portentous screech, + Flew fast to land;—upon the beach + The pilot oft had paus’d, with glance + Turn’d upward to that wild expanse;— + And all was boding, drear, and dark + As her own soul, when HINDA’S bark + Went slowly from the Persian shore.— + No music tim’d her parting oar,[270] + Nor friends upon the lessening strand + Linger’d, to wave the unseen hand, + Or speak the farewell, heard no more;— + But lone, unheeded, from the bay + The vessel takes its mournful way, + Like some ill-destin’d bark that steers + In silence through the Gate of Tears.[271] + + And where was stern AL HASSAN then? + Could not that saintly scourge of men + From bloodshed and devotion spare + One minute for a farewell there? + No—close within, in changeful fits + Of cursing and of prayer, he sits + In savage loneliness to brood + Upon the coming night of blood,— + With that keen second-scent of death, + By which the vulture snuffs his food + In the still warm and living breath![272] + While o’er the wave his weeping daughter + Is wafted from these scenes of slaughter,— + As a young bird of BABYLON,[273] + Let loose to tell of victory won, + Flies home, with wing, ah! not unstain’d + By the red hands that held her chain’d. + + And does the long-left home she seeks + Light up no gladness on her cheeks? + The flowers she nurs’d—the well-known groves, + Where oft in dreams her spirit roves— + Once more to see her dear gazelles + Come bounding with their silver bells; + Her birds’ new plumage to behold, + And the gay, gleaming fishes count, + She left, all filleted with gold, + Shooting around their jasper fount;[274] + Her little garden mosque to see, + And once again, at evening hour, + To tell her ruby rosary[275] + In her own sweet acacia bower.— + Can these delights, that wait her now, + Call up no sunshine on her brow? + No,—silent, from her train apart,— + As if e’en now she felt at heart + The chill of her approaching doom,— + She sits, all lovely in her gloom + As a pale Angel of the Grave; + And o’er the wide, tempestuous wave, + Looks, with a shudder, to those towers, + Where, in a few short awful hours, + Blood, blood, in streaming tides shall run. + Foul incense for to-morrow’s sun! + “Where art thou, glorious stranger! thou, + “So loved, so lost, where art thou now? + “Foe—Gheber—infidel—whate’er + “The’ unhallow’d name thou’rt doom’d to bear, + “Still glorious—still to this fond heart + “Dear as its blood, whate’er thou art! + “Yes—ALLA, dreadful ALLA! yes— + “If there be wrong, be crime in this, + “Let the black waves that round us roll, + “Whelm me this instant, ere my soul, + “Forgetting faith—home—father—all— + “Before its earthly idol fall, + “Nor worship e’en Thyself above him— + “For, oh, so wildly do I love him, + “Thy Paradise itself were dim + “And joyless, if not shared with him!” + + Her hands were clasp’d—her eyes upturn’d, + Dropping their tears like moonlight rain; + And, though her lip, fond raver! burn’d + With words of passion, bold, profane, + Yet was there light around her brow, + A holiness in those dark eyes, + Which show’d, though wandering earthward now, + Her spirit’s home was in the skies. + Yes—for a spirit pure as hers + Is always pure, e’en while it errs; + As sunshine, broken in the rill, + Though turn’d astray, is sunshine still! + + So wholly had her mind forgot + All thoughts but one, she heeded not + The rising storm—the wave that cast + A moment’s midnight, as it pass’d— + Nor heard the frequent shout, the tread + Of gathering tumult o’er her head— + Clash’d swords, and tongues that seem’d to vie + With the rude riot of the sky.— + But, hark!—that war-whoop on the deck— + That crash, as if each engine there, + Masts, sails, and all, were gone to wreck, + Mid yells and stampings of despair! + Merciful Heaven! what _can_ it be? + ’Tis not the storm, though fearfully + The ship has shudder’d as she rode + O’er mountain-waves—“Forgive me, God! + “Forgive me”—shrieked the maid, and knelt, + Trembling all over—for she felt + As if her judgment-hour was near + While crouching round, half dead with fear, + Her handmaids clung, nor breath’d, nor stirr’d— + When, hark!—a second crash—a third— + And now, as if a bolt of thunder + Had riv’n the labouring planks asunder, + The deck falls in—what horrors then! + Blood, waves, and tackle, swords and men + Come mix’d together through the chasm,— + Some wretches in their dying spasm + Still fighting on—and some that call + “For GOD and IRAN!” as they fall! + + Whose was the hand that turn’d away + The perils of the’ infuriate fray, + And snatch’d her breathless from beneath + This wilderment of wreck and death? + She knew not—for a faintness came + Chill o’er her, and her sinking frame + Amid the ruins of that hour + Lay, like a pale and scorched flower, + Beneath the red volcano’s shower. + But, oh! the sights and sounds of dread + That shock’d her ere her senses fled! + The yawning deck—the crowd that strove + Upon the tottering planks above— + The sail, whose fragments, shivering o’er + The strugglers’ heads, all dash’d with gore, + Flutter’d like bloody flags—the clash + Of sabres, and the lightning’s flash + Upon their blades, high toss’d about + Like meteor brands[276]—as if throughout + The elements one fury ran, + One general rage, that left a doubt + Which was the fiercer, Heaven or Man! + + Once too—but no—it could not be— + ’Twas fancy all—yet once she thought, + While yet her fading eyes could see, + High on the ruin’d deck she caught + A glimpse of that unearthly form, + That glory of her soul,—e’en then, + Amid the whirl of wreck and storm, + Shining above his fellow-men, + As, on some black and troublous night, + The Star of EGYPT,[277] whose proud light + Never hath beam’d on those who rest + In the White Islands of the West,[278] + Burns through the storm with looks of flame + That put Heaven’s cloudier eyes to shame. + But no—’twas but the minute’s dream— + A fantasy—and ere the scream + Had half-way pass’d her pallid lips, + A death-like swoon, a chill eclipse + Of soul and sense its darkness spread + Around her, and she sunk, as dead. + + How calm, how beautiful comes on + The stilly hour, when storms are gone; + When warring winds have died away, + And clouds, beneath the glancing ray, + Melt off, and leave the land and sea + Sleeping in bright tranquillity,— + Fresh as if Day again were born, + Again upon the lap of Morn!— + When the light blossoms, rudely torn + And scatter’d at the whirlwind’s will, + Hang floating in the pure air still, + Filling it all with precious balm, + In gratitude for this sweet calm;— + And every drop the thunder-showers + Have left upon the grass and flowers + Sparkles, as ’twere that lightning-gem[279] + Whose liquid flame is born of them! + When, ’stead of one unchanging breeze, + There blow a thousand gentle airs, + And each a different perfume bears,— + As if the loveliest plants and trees + Had vassal breezes of their own + To watch and wait on them alone, + And waft no other breath than theirs: + When the blue waters rise and fall, + In sleepy sunshine mantling all; + And e’en that swell the tempest leaves + Is like the full and silent heaves + Of lovers’ hearts, when newly blest, + Too newly to be quite at rest. + + Such was the golden hour that broke + Upon the world, when HINDA woke + From her long trance, and heard around + No motion but the water’s sound + Rippling against the vessel’s side, + As slow it mounted o’er the tide.— + But where is she?—her eyes are dark, + Are wilder’d still—is this the bark, + The same, that from HARMOZIA’S bay + Bore her at morn—whose bloody way + The sea-dog track’d?—no—strange and new + Is all that meets her wondering view. + Upon a galliot’s deck she lies, + Beneath no rich pavilion’s shade,— + No plumes to fan her sleeping eyes, + Nor jasmine on her pillow laid. + But the rude litter, roughly spread + With war-cloaks, is her homely bed, + And shawl and sash, on javelins hung, + For awning o’er her head are flung. + Shuddering she look’d around—there lay + A group of warriors in the sun, + Resting their limbs, as for that day + Their ministry of death were done. + Some gazing on the drowsy sea, + Lost in unconscious reverie; + And some, who seem’d but ill to brook + That sluggish calm, with many a look + To the slack sail impatient cast, + As loose it flagg’d around the mast. + + Blest ALLA! who shall save her now? + There’s not in all that warrior band + One Arab sword, one turban’d brow + From her own Faithful Moslem land. + Their garb—the leathern belt[280] that wraps + Each yellow vest[281]—that rebel hue— + The Tartar fleece upon their caps[282]— + Yes—yes—her fears are all too true, + And Heaven hath, in this dreadful hour, + Abandon’d her to HAFED’S power;— + HAFED, the Gheber!—at the thought + Her very heart’s blood chills within; + He, whom her soul was hourly taught + To loathe, as some foul fiend of sin, + Some minister, whom Hell had sent + To spread its blast, where’er he went, + And fling, as o’er our earth he trod, + His shadow betwixt man and God! + And she is now his captive,—thrown + In his fierce hands, alive, alone; + His the infuriate band she sees, + All infidels—all enemies! + What was the daring hope that then + Cross’d her like lightning, as again, + With boldness that despair had lent, + She darted through that armed crowd + A look so searching, so intent, + That e’en the sternest warrior bow’d + Abash’d, when he her glances caught, + As if he guess’d whose form they sought. + But no—she sees him not—’tis gone, + The vision that before her shone + Through all the maze of blood and storm, + Is fled—’twas but a phantom form— + One of those passing, rainbow dreams, + Half light, half shade, which Fancy’s beams + Paint on the fleeting mists that roll + In trance or slumber round the soul. + + But now the bark, with livelier bound, + Scales the blue wave—the crew’s in motion, + The oars are out, and with light sound + Break the bright mirror of the ocean, + Scattering its brilliant fragments round. + And now she sees—with horror sees, + Their course is tow’rd that mountain-hold,— + Those towers, that make her life-blood freeze, + Where MECCA’S godless enemies + Lie, like beleaguer’d scorpions, roll’d + In their last deadly, venomous fold! + Amid the’ illumin’d land and flood + Sunless that mighty mountain stood; + Save where, above its awful head, + There shone a flaming cloud, blood-red, + As ’twere the flag of destiny + Hung out to mark where death would be! + + Had her bewilder’d mind the power + Of thought in this terrific hour, + She well might marvel where or how + Man’s foot could scale that mountain’s brow, + Since ne’er had Arab heard or known + Of path but through the glen alone.— + But every thought was lost in fear, + When, as their bounding bark drew near + The craggy base, she felt the waves + Hurry them tow’rd those dismal caves, + That from the Deep in windings pass + Beneath that Mount’s volcanic mass;— + And loud a voice on deck commands + To lower the mast and light the brands!— + Instantly o’er the dashing tide + Within a cavern’s mouth they glide, + Gloomy as that eternal Porch + Through which departed spirits go:— + Not e’en the flare of brand and torch + Its flickering light could further throw + Than the thick flood that boil’d below. + Silent they floated—as if each + Sat breathless, and too aw’d for speech + In that dark chasm, where even sound + Seem’d dark,—so sullenly around + The goblin echoes of the cave + Mutter’d it o’er the long black wave, + As ’twere some secret of the grave! + + But soft—they pause—the current turns + Beneath them from its onward track;— + Some mighty, unseen barrier spurns + The vexed tide, all foaming, back, + And scarce the oars’ redoubled force + Can stem the eddy’s whirling force; + When, hark!—some desperate foot has sprung + Among the rocks—the chain is flung— + The oars are up—the grapple clings, + And the toss’d bark in moorings swings. + Just then, a day-beam through the shade + Broke tremulous—but, ere the maid + Can see from whence the brightness steals, + Upon her brow she shuddering feels + A viewless hand, that promptly ties + A bandage round her burning eyes; + While the rude litter where she lies, + Uplifted by the warrior throng, + O’er the steep rocks is borne along. + + Blest power of sunshine!—genial Day, + What balm, what life is in thy ray! + To feel thee is such real bliss, + That had the world no joy but this, + To sit in sunshine calm and sweet,— + It were a world too exquisite + For man to leave it for the gloom, + The deep, cold shadow of the tomb. + E’en HINDA, though she saw not where + Or whither wound the perilous road, + Yet knew by that awakening air, + Which suddenly around her glow’d, + That they had risen from darkness then, + And breath’d the sunny world again! + + But soon this balmy freshness fled— + For now the steepy labyrinth led + Through damp and gloom—’mid crash of boughs, + And fall of loosen’d crags that rouse + The leopard from his hungry sleep, + Who, starting, thinks each crag a prey, + And long is heard, from steep to steep, + Chasing them down their thundering way! + The jackal’s cry—the distant moan + Of the hyæna, fierce and lone— + And that eternal saddening sound + Of torrents in the glen beneath, + As ’twere the ever-dark Profound + That rolls beneath the Bridge of Death! + All, all is fearful—e’en to see, + To gaze on those terrific things + She now but blindly hears, would be + Relief to her imaginings; + Since never yet was shape so dread, + But Fancy, thus in darkness thrown + And by such sounds of horror fed, + Could frame more dreadful of her own. + + But does she dream? has Fear again + Perplex’d the workings of her brain, + Or did a voice, all music, then + Come from the gloom, low whispering near— + “Tremble not, love, thy Gheber’s here!” + She _does_ not dream—all sense, all ear, + She drinks the words, “Thy Gheber’s here.” + ’Twas his own voice—she could not err— + Throughout the breathing world’s extent + There was but _one_ such voice for her, + So kind, so soft, so eloquent! + Oh, sooner shall the rose of May + Mistake her own sweet nightingale, + And to some meaner minstrel’s lay + Open her bosom’s glowing veil,[283] + Than Love shall ever doubt a tone, + A breath of the beloved one! + + Though blest, ’mid all her ills, to think + She has that one beloved near, + Whose smile, though met on ruin’s brink, + Hath power to make e’en ruin dear,— + Yet soon this gleam of rapture, crost + By fears for him, is chill’d and lost. + How shall the ruthless HAFED brook + That one of Gheber blood should look, + With aught but curses in his eye, + On her—a maid of ARABY— + A Moslem maid—the child of him, + Whose bloody banner’s dire success + Hath left their altars cold and dim, + And their fair land a wilderness! + And, worse than all, that night of blood + Which comes so fast—oh! who shall stay + The sword, that once hath tasted food + Of Persian hearts, or turn its way? + What arm shall then the victim cover, + Or from her father shield her lover? + + “Save him, my God!” she inly cries— + “Save him this night—and if thine eyes + “Have ever welcom’d with delight + “The sinner’s tears, the sacrifice + “Of sinners’ hearts—guard him this night, + “And here, before thy throne, I swear + “From my heart’s inmost core to tear + “Love, hope, remembrance, though they be + “Link’d with each quivering life-string there, + “And give it bleeding all to Thee! + “Let him but live,—the burning tear, + “The sighs, so sinful, yet so dear, + “Which have been all too much his own, + “Shall from this hour be Heaven’s alone. + “Youth pass’d in penitence, and age + “In long and painful pilgrimage, + “Shall leave no traces of the flame + “That wastes me now—nor shall his name + “E’er bless my lips, but when I pray + “For his dear spirit, that away + “Casting from its angelic ray + “The’ eclipse of earth, he, too, may shine + “Redeem’d, all glorious and all Thine! + “Think—think what victory to win + “One radiant soul like his from sin,— + “One wandering star of virtue back + “To its own native, heaven-ward track! + “Let him but live, and both are Thine, + “Together Thine—for, blest or crost, + “Living or dead, his doom is mine, + “And, if _he_ perish, both are lost!” + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + +The next evening LALLA ROOKH was entreated by her Ladies to continue the +relation of her wonderful dream; but the fearful interest that hung +round the fate of HINDA and her lover had completely removed every trace +of it from her mind;—much to the disappointment of a fair seer or two in +her train, who prided themselves on their skill in interpreting visions, +and who had already remarked, as an unlucky omen, that the Princess, on +the very morning after the dream, had worn a silk dyed with the blossoms +of the sorrowful tree, Nilica.[284] + +FADLADEEN, whose indignation had more than once broken out during the +recital of some parts of this heterodox poem, seemed at length to have +made up his mind to the infliction; and took his seat this evening with +all the patience of a martyr, while the Poet resumed his profane and +seditious story as follows:— + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + To tearless eyes and hearts at ease + The leafy shores and sun-bright seas, + That lay beneath that mountain’s height, + Had been a fair enchanting sight. + ’Twas one of those ambrosial eves + A day of storm so often leaves + At its calm setting—when the West + Opens her golden bowers of rest, + And a moist radiance from the skies + Shoots trembling down, as from the eyes + Of some meek penitent, whose last + Bright hours atone for dark ones past, + And whose sweet tears, o’er wrong forgiven, + Shine, as they fall, with light from heaven! + + ’Twas stillness all—the winds that late + Had rush’d through KERMAN’S almond groves, + And shaken from her bowers of date + That cooling feast the traveller loves,[285] + Now, lull’d to languor, scarcely curl + The Green Sea wave, whose waters gleam + Limpid, as if her mines of pearl + Were melted all to form the stream: + And her fair islets, small and bright, + With their green shores reflected there, + Look like those PERI isles of light, + That hang by spell-work in the air. + + But vainly did those glories burst + On HINDA’S dazzled eyes, when first + The bandage from her brow was taken, + And, pale and aw’d as those who waken + In their dark tombs—when, scowling near, + The Searchers of the Grave[286] appear,— + She shuddering turn’d to read her fate + In the fierce eyes that flash’d around; + And saw those towers all desolate, + That o’er her head terrific frown’d, + As if defying e’en the smile + Of that soft heaven to gild their pile. + In vain, with mingled hope and fear, + She looks for him whose voice so dear + Had come, like music, to her ear— + Strange, mocking dream! again ’tis fled. + And oh, the shoots, the pangs of dread + That through her inmost bosom run, + When voices from without proclaim + “HAFED, the Chief”—and, one by one, + The warriors shout that fearful name! + He comes—the rock resounds his tread— + How shall she dare to lift her head, + Or meet those eyes whose scorching glare + Not YEMEN’S boldest sons can bear? + In whose red beam, the Moslem tells, + Such rank and deadly lustre dwells, + As in those hellish fires that light + The mandrake’s charnel leaves at night.[287] + How shall she bear that voice’s tone, + At whose loud battle-cry alone + Whole squadrons oft in panic ran, + Scatter’d like some vast caravan, + When, stretch’d at evening round the well, + They hear the thirsting tiger’s yell! + Breathless she stands, with eyes cast down, + Shrinking beneath the fiery frown, + Which, fancy tells her, from that brow + Is flashing o’er her fiercely now: + And shuddering as she hears the tread + Of his retiring warrior band.— + Never was pause so full of dread; + Till HAFED with a trembling hand + Took hers, and, leaning o’er her, said, + “HINDA;”—that word was all he spoke, + And ’twas enough—the shriek that broke + From her full bosom, told the rest.— + Panting with terror, joy, surprise, + The maid but lifts her wondering eyes, + To hide them on her Gheber’s breast! + ’Tis he, ’tis he—the man of blood, + The fellest of the Fire-fiend’s brood, + HAFED, the demon of the fight, + Whose voice unnerves, whose glances blight,— + Is her own loved Gheber, mild + And glorious as when first he smil’d + In her lone tower, and left such beams + Of his pure eye to light her dreams, + That she believ’d her bower had given + Rest to some wanderer from heaven! + + Moments there are, and this was one, + Snatch’d like a minute’s gleam of sun + Amid the black Simoom’s eclipse— + Or, like those verdant spots that bloom + Around the crater’s burning lips, + Sweetening the very edge of doom! + The past—the future—all that Fate + Can bring of dark or desperate + Around such hours, but makes them cast + Intenser radiance while they last! + + Even he, this youth—though dimm’d and gone + Each star of Hope that cheer’d him on— + His glories lost—his cause betray’d— + IRAN, his dear-lov’d country made + A land of carcasses and slaves, + One dreary waste of chains and graves!— + Himself but lingering, dead at heart, + To see the last, long struggling breath + Of Liberty’s great soul depart, + Then lay him down and share her death— + Even he, so sunk in wretchedness, + With doom still darker gathering o’er him, + Yet, in this moment’s pure caress, + In the mild eyes that shone before him, + Beaming that blest assurance, worth + All other transports known on earth, + That he was lov’d—well, warmly lov’d— + Oh! in this precious hour he prov’d + How deep, how thorough-felt the glow + Of rapture, kindling out of woe;— + How exquisite one single drop + Of bliss, thus sparkling to the top + Of misery’s cup—how keenly quaff’d, + Though death must follow on the draught! + + She, too, while gazing on those eyes + That sink into her soul so deep, + Forgets all fears, all miseries, + Or feels them like a wretch in sleep, + Whom fancy cheats into a smile, + Who dreams of joy, and sobs the while! + The mighty Ruins where they stood, + Upon the mount’s high, rocky verge, + Lay open tow’rds the ocean flood, + Where lightly o’er the illumin’d surge + Many a fair bark that, all the day, + Had lurk’d in sheltering creek or bay, + Now bounded on, and gave their sails, + Yet dripping, to the evening gales; + Like eagles, when the storm is done, + Spreading their wet wings in the sun. + The beauteous clouds, though daylight’s Star + Had sunk behind the hills of LAR, + Were still with lingering glories bright,— + As if, to grace the gorgeous West, + The Spirit of departing Light + That eve had left his sunny vest + Behind him, ere he wing’d his flight. + Never was scene so form’d for love! + Beneath them waves of crystal move + In silent swell—Heaven glows above, + And their pure hearts, to transport given, + Swell like the wave, and glow like Heaven. + + But, ah! too soon that dream is past— + Again, again her fear returns;— + Night, dreadful night, is gathering last, + More faintly the horizon burns, + And every rosy tint that lay + On the smooth sea hath died away. + Hastily to the darkening skies + A glance she casts—then wildly cries + “_At night_, he said—and, look, ’tis near— + “Fly, fly—if yet thou lov’st me, fly— + “Soon will his murderous band be here, + “And I shall see thee bleed and die.— + “Hush! heard’st thou not the tramp of men + “Sounding from yonder fearful glen?— + “Perhaps e’en now they climb the wood— + “Fly, fly—though still the West is bright, + “He’ll come—oh! yes—he wants thy blood— + “I know him—he’ll not wait for night!” + + In terrors e’en to agony + She clings around the wondering Chief;— + “Alas, poor wilder’d maid! to me + “Thou ow’st this raving trance of grief. + “Lost as I am, nought ever grew + “Beneath my shade but perish’d too— + “My doom is like the Dead Sea air, + “And nothing lives that enters there! + “Why were our barks together driven + “Beneath this morning’s furious heaven? + “Why, when I saw the prize that chance + “Had thrown into my desperate arms,— + “When, casting but a single glance + “Upon thy pale and prostrate charms, + “I vow’d (though watching viewless o’er + “Thy safety through that hour’s alarms) + “To meet the’ unmanning sight no more— + “Why have I broke that heart-wrung vow? + “Why weakly, madly met thee now?— + “Start not—that noise is but the shock + “Of torrents through yon valley hurl’d— + “Dread nothing here—upon this rock + “We stand above the jarring world, + “Alike beyond its hope—its dread— + “In gloomy safety, like the Dead! + “Or, could e’en earth and hell unite + “In league to storm this Sacred Height, + “Fear nothing thou—myself, to-night, + “And each o’erlooking star that dwells + “Near God will be thy sentinels;— + “And, ere to-morrow’s dawn shall glow, + “Back to thy sire⸺” + “To-morrow!—no—” + The maiden scream’d—“thou’lt never see + “To-morrow’s sun—death, death will be + “The night-cry through each reeking tower, + “Unless we fly, ay, fly this hour! + “Thou art betray’d—some wretch who knew + “That dreadful glen’s mysterious clew— + “Nay, doubt not—by yon stars, ’tis true— + “Hath sold thee to my vengeful sire; + “This morning, with that smile so dire + “He wears in joy, he told me all, + “And stamp’d in triumph through our hall, + “As though thy heart already beat + “Its last life-throb beneath his feet! + “Good Heaven, how little dream’d I then + “His victim was my own lov’d youth!— + “Fly—send—let some one watch the glen— + “By all my hopes of heaven ’tis truth!” + + Oh! colder than the wind that freezes + Founts, that but now in sunshine play’d, + Is that congealing pang which seizes + The trusting bosom, when betray’d. + He felt it—deeply felt—and stood, + As if the tale had frozen his blood, + So maz’d and motionless was he;— + Like one whom sudden spells enchant, + Or some mute, marble habitant + Of the still Halls of ISHMONIE![288] + + But soon the painful chill was o’er, + And his great soul, herself once more, + Look’d from his brow in all the rays + Of her best, happiest, grandest days. + Never, in moment most elate, + Did that high spirit loftier rise;— + While bright, serene, determinate, + His looks are lifted to the skies, + As if the signal lights of Fate + Were shining in those awful eyes! + ’Tis come—his hour of martyrdom + In IRAN’S sacred cause is come; + And, though his life hath pass’d away + Like lightning on a stormy day, + Yet shall his death-hour leave a track + Of glory, permanent and bright, + To which the brave of after-times, + The suffering brave, shall long look back + With proud regret,—and by its light + Watch through the hours of slavery’s night + For vengeance on the’ oppressor’s crimes. + This rock, his monument aloft, + Shall speak the tale to many an age; + And hither bards and heroes oft + Shall come in secret pilgrimage, + And bring their warrior sons, and tell + The wondering boys where HAFED fell; + And swear them on those lone remains + Of their lost country’s ancient fanes, + Never—while breath of life shall live + Within them—never to forgive + The’ accursed race, whose ruthless chain + Hath left on IRAN’S neck a stain + Blood, blood alone can cleanse again! + + Such are the swelling thoughts that now + Enthrone themselves on HAFED’S brow; + And ne’er did saint of ISSA[289] gaze + On the red wreath, for martyrs twin’d, + More proudly than the youth surveys + That pile, which through the gloom behind, + Half lighted by the altar’s fire, + Glimmers—his destin’d funeral pyre! + Heap’d by his own, his comrades’ hands, + Of every wood of odorous breath, + There, by the Fire-God’s shrine it stands, + Ready to fold in radiant death + The few still left of those who swore + To perish there, when hope was o’er— + The few, to whom that couch of flame, + Which rescues them from bonds and shame, + Is sweet and welcome as the bed + For their own infant Prophet spread, + When pitying Heaven to roses turn’d + The death-flames that beneath him burn’d![290] + + With watchfulness the maid attends + His rapid glance, where’er it bends— + Why shoot his eyes such awful beams? + What plans he now? what thinks or dreams? + Alas! why stands he musing here, + When every moment teems with fear? + “HAFED, my own beloved Lord,” + She kneeling cries—“first, last ador’d! + “If in that soul thou’st ever felt + “Half what thy lips impassioned swore, + “Here, on my knees that never knelt + “To any but their God before, + “I pray thee, as thou lov’st me, fly— + “Now, now—ere yet their blades are nigh. + “Oh haste—the bark that bore me hither + “Can waft us o’er yon darkening sea + “East—west—alas, I care not whither, + “So thou art safe, and I with thee! + “Go where we will, this hand is thine, + “Those eyes before me smiling thus, + “Through good and ill, through storm and shine, + “The world’s a world of love for us! + “On some calm, blessed shore we’ll dwell, + “Where ’tis no crime to love too well;— + “Where thus to worship tenderly + “An erring child of light like thee + “Will not be sin—or, if it be, + “Where we may weep our faults away, + “Together kneeling, night and day, + “Thou, for _my_ sake, at ALLA’S shrine, + “And I—at _any_ God’s, for thine!” + + Wildly these passionate words she spoke— + Then hung her head, and wept for shame; + Sobbing, as if her heart-string broke + With every deep-heav’d sob that came. + While he, young, warm—oh! wonder not + If, for a moment, pride and fame, + His oath—his cause—that shrine of flame, + And IRAN’S self are all forgot + For her whom at his feet he sees + Kneeling in speechless agonies. + No, blame him not, if Hope awhile + Dawn’d in his soul, and threw her smile + O’er hours to come—o’er days and nights, + Wing’d with those precious, pure delights + Which she, who bends all beauteous there, + Was born to kindle and to share. + A tear or two, which, as he bow’d + To raise the suppliant, trembling stole, + First warn’d him of this dangerous cloud + Of softness passing o’er his soul. + Starting, he brush’d the drops away, + Unworthy o’er that cheek to stray;— + Like one who, on the morn of fight, + Shakes from his sword the dews of night, + That had but dimm’d, not stain’d its light. + Yet, though subdued the’ unnerving thrill, + Its warmth, its weakness linger’d still + So touching in each look and tone, + That the fond, fearing, hoping maid + Half counted on the flight she pray’d, + Half thought the hero’s soul was grown + As soft, as yielding as her own, + And smil’d and bless’d him, while he said,— + “Yes—if there be some happier sphere, + “Where fadeless truth like ours is dear,— + “If there be any land of rest + “For those who love and ne’er forget, + “Oh! comfort thee—for safe and blest + “We’ll meet in that calm region yet!” + + Scarce had she time to ask her heart + If good or ill these words impart, + When the rous’d youth impatient flew + To the tower-wall, where, high in view, + A ponderous sea-horn[291] hung, and blew + A signal, deep and dread as those + The storm-fiend at his rising blows.— + Full well his Chieftains, sworn and true + Through life and death, that signal knew; + For ’twas the’ appointed warring-blast, + The’ alarm, to tell when hope was past, + And the tremendous death-die cast! + And there, upon the mouldering tower, + Hath hung this sea-horn many an hour, + Ready to sound o’er land and sea + That dirge-note of the brave and free. + They came—his Chieftains at the call + Came slowly round, and with them all— + Alas, how few!—the worn remains + Of those who late o’er KERMAN’S plains + Went gaily prancing to the clash + Of Moorish zel and tymbalon, + Catching new hope from every flash + Of their long lances in the sun, + And, as their coursers charg’d the wind, + And the white ox-tails stream’d behind,[292] + Looking, as if the steeds they rode + Were wing’d, and every Chief a God! + How fallen, how alter’d now! how wan + Each scarr’d and faded visage shone, + As round the burning shrine they came!— + How deadly was the glare it cast, + As mute they pass’d before the flame + To light their torches as they pass’d! + ’Twas silence all—the youth had plann’d + The duties of his soldier-band; + And each determin’d brow declares + His faithful Chieftains well know theirs. + + But minutes speed—night gems the skies— + And oh, how soon, ye blessed eyes, + That look from heaven, ye may behold + Sights that will turn your star-fires cold! + Breathless with awe, impatience, hope, + The maiden sees the veteran group + Her litter silently prepare, + And lay it at her trembling feet;— + And now the youth, with gentle care, + Hath placed her in the shelter’d seat, + And press’d her hand—that lingering press + Of hands, that for the last time sever; + Of hearts, whose pulse of happiness, + When that hold breaks, is dead for ever. + And yet to _her_ this sad caress + Gives hope—so fondly hope can err! + ’Twas joy, she thought, joy’s mute excess— + Their happy flight’s dear harbinger; + ’Twas warmth—assurance—tenderness— + ’Twas any thing but leaving her. + + “Haste, haste!” she cried, “the clouds grow dark, + “But still, ere night, we’ll reach the bark; + “And by to-morrow’s dawn—oh bliss! + “With thee upon the sun-bright deep, + “Far off, I’ll but remember this, + “As some dark vanish’d dream of sleep; + “And thou⸺” but ah!—he answers not— + Good Heaven!—and does she go alone? + She now has reach’d that dismal spot, + Where, some hours since, his voice’s tone + Had come to soothe her fears and ills, + Sweet as the angel ISRAFIL’S,[293] + When every leaf on Eden’s tree + Is trembling to his minstrelsy— + Yet now—oh, now, he is not nigh.— + “HAFED! my HAFED!—if it be + “Thy will, thy doom this night to die, + “Let me but stay to die with thee, + “And I will bless thy lovèd name, + “Till the last life-breath leave this frame. + “Oh! let our lips, our cheeks be laid + “But near each other while they fade; + “Let us but mix our parting breaths, + “And I can die ten thousand deaths! + “You too, who hurry me away + “So cruelly, one moment stay— + “Oh! stay—one moment is not much— + “He yet may come—for _him_ I pray— + “HAFED! dear HAFED!—” all the way + In wild lamentings, that would touch + A heart of stone, she shriek’d his name + To the dark woods—no HAFED came:— + No—hapless pair—you’ve look’d your last:— + Your hearts should both have broken then: + The dream is o’er—your doom is cast— + You’ll never meet on earth again! + + Alas for him, who hears her cries! + Still half-way down the steep he stands, + Watching with fix’d and feverish eyes + The glimmer of those burning brands, + That down the rocks, with mournful ray, + Light all he loves on earth away! + Hopeless as they who, far at sea, + By the cold moon have just consign’d + The corse of one, lov’d tenderly, + To the bleak flood they leave behind; + And on the deck still lingering stay, + And long look back, with sad delay, + To watch the moonlight on the wave, + That ripples o’er that cheerless grave. + + But see—he starts—what heard he then? + That dreadful shout!—across the glen + From the land-side it comes, and loud + Rings through the chasm; as if the crowd + Of fearful things, that haunt that dell, + Its Gholes and Dives and shapes of hell, + Had all in one dread howl broke out, + So loud, so terrible that shout! + “They come—the Moslems come!” he cries, + His proud soul mounting to his eyes,— + “Now, Spirits of the Brave, who roam + “Enfranchis’d through yon starry dome, + “Rejoice—for souls of kindred fire + “Are on the wing to join your choir!” + He said—and, light as bridegrooms bound + To their young loves, reclimb’d the steep + And gain’d the Shrine—his Chiefs stood round— + Their swords, as with instinctive leap, + Together, at that cry accurst, + Had from their sheaths, like sunbeams, burst. + And hark!—again—again it rings; + Near and more near its echoings + Peal through the chasm—oh! who that then + Had seen those listening warrior-men, + With their swords grasp’d, their eyes of flame + Turn’d on their Chief—could doubt the shame, + The’ indignant shame with which they thrill + To hear those shouts and yet stand still? + + He read their thoughts—they were his own— + “What! while our arms can wield these blades, + “Shall we die tamely? die alone? + “Without one victim to our shades, + “One Moslem heart, where, buried deep, + “The sabre from its toil may sleep? + “No—God of IRAN’S burning skies! + “Thou scorn’st the’ inglorious sacrifice. + “No—though of all earth’s hope bereft, + “Life, swords, and vengeance still are left. + “We’ll make yon valley’s reeking caves + “Live in the awe-struck minds of men, + “Till tyrants shudder, when their slaves + “Tell of the Ghebers’ bloody glen. + “Follow, brave hearts!—this pile remains + “Our refuge still from life and chains; + “But his the best, the holiest bed, + “Who sinks entomb’d in Moslem dead!” + + Down the precipitous rocks they sprung, + While vigour, more than human, strung + Each arm and heart.—The’ exulting foe + Still through the dark defiles below, + Track’d by his torches’ lurid fire, + Wound slow, as through GOLCONDA’S vale[294] + The mighty serpent, in his ire, + Glides on with glittering, deadly trail. + No torch the Ghebers need—so well + They know each mystery of the dell, + So oft have, in their wanderings, + Cross’d the wild race that round them dwell, + The very tigers from their delves + Look out, and let them pass, as things + Untam’d and fearless like themselves! + + There was a deep ravine, that lay + Yet darkling in the Moslem’s way; + Fit spot to make invaders rue + The many fallen before the few. + The torrents from that morning’s sky + Had fill’d the narrow chasm breast high, + And, on each side, aloft and wild, + Huge cliffs and toppling crags were pil’d,— + The guards with which young Freedom lines + The pathways to her mountain-shrines. + Here, at this pass, the scanty band + Of IRAN’S last avengers stand; + Here wait, in silence like the dead, + And listen for the Moslem’s tread + So anxiously, the carrion-bird + Above them flaps his wing unheard! + + They come—that plunge into the water + Gives signal for the work of slaughter. + Now, Ghebers, now—if e’er your blades + Had point or prowess, prove them now— + Woe to the file that foremost wades! + They come—a falchion greets each brow, + And, as they tumble, trunk on trunk, + Beneath the gory waters sunk, + Still o’er their drowning bodies press + New victims quick and numberless; + Till scarce an arm in HAFED’S band, + So fierce their toil, hath power to stir, + But listless from each crimson hand + The sword hangs, clogg’d with massacre. + Never was horde of tyrants met + With bloodier welcome—never yet + To patriot vengeance hath the sword + More terrible libations pour’d! + + All up the dreary, long ravine, + By the red, murky glimmer seen + Of half-quench’d brands that o’er the flood + Lie scatter’d round and burn in blood, + What ruin glares! what carnage swims! + Heads, blazing turbans, quivering limbs, + Lost swords that, dropp’d from many a hand, + In that thick pool of slaughter stand;— + Wretches who wading, half on fire + From the toss’d brands that round them fly, + ’Twixt flood and flame in shrieks expire;— + And some who, grasp’d by those that die, + Sink woundless with them, smother’d o’er + In their dead brethren’s gushing gore! + + But vainly hundreds, thousands bleed, + Still hundreds, thousands more succeed; + Countless as tow’rds some flame at night + The North’s dark insects wing their flight, + And quench or perish in its light, + To this terrific spot they pour— + Till, bridg’d with Moslem bodies o’er, + It bears aloft their slippery tread, + And o’er the dying and the dead, + Tremendous causeway! on they pass. + Then, hapless Ghebers, then, alas, + What hope was left for you? for you, + Whose yet warm pile of sacrifice + Is smoking in their vengeful eyes?— + Whose swords how keen, how fierce they knew, + And burn with shame to find how few? + + Crush’d down by that vast multitude, + Some found their graves where first they stood; + While some with hardier struggle died, + And still fought on by HAFED’S side, + Who, fronting to the foe, trod back + Tow’rds the high towers his gory track; + And, as a lion swept away + By sudden swell of JORDAN’S pride + From the wild covert where he lay,[295] + Long battles with the o’erwhelming tide, + So fought he back with fierce delay, + And kept both foes and fate at bay. + + But whither now? their track is lost, + Their prey escap’d—guide, torches gone— + By torrent-beds and labyrinths crost, + The scatter’d crowd rush blindly on— + “Curse on those tardy lights that wind,” + They panting cry, “so far behind; + “Oh for a bloodhound’s precious scent, + “To track the way the Gheber went!” + Vain wish—confusedly along + They rush, more desperate as more wrong: + Till, wilder’d by the far-off lights, + Yet glittering up those gloomy heights, + Their footing, maz’d and lost, they miss, + And down the darkling precipice + Are dash’d into the deep abyss; + Or midway hang, impal’d on rocks, + A banquet, yet alive, for flocks + Of ravening vultures,—while the dell + Re-echoes with each horrible yell. + + Those sounds—the last to vengeance dear, + That e’er shall ring in HAFED’S ear,— + Now reached him, as aloft, alone, + Upon the steep way breathless thrown, + He lay beside his reeking blade, + Resign’d, as if life’s task were o’er, + Its last blood-offering amply paid, + And IRAN’S self could claim no more. + One only thought, one lingering beam + Now broke across his dizzy dream + Of pain and weariness—’twas she, + His heart’s pure planet, shining yet + Above the waste of memory, + When all life’s other lights were set. + And never to his mind before + Her image such enchantment wore. + It seem’d as if each thought that stain’d, + Each fear that chill’d their loves was past, + And not one cloud of earth remain’d + Between him and her radiance cast;— + As if to charms, before so bright, + New grace from other worlds was given, + And his soul saw her by the light + Now breaking o’er itself from heaven! + + A voice spoke near him—’twas the tone + Of a lov’d friend, the only one + Of all his warriors, left with life + From that short night’s tremendous strife.— + “And must we then, my Chief, die here? + “Foes round us, and the Shrine so near!” + These words have rous’d the last remains + Of life within him—“what! not yet + “Beyond the reach of Moslem chains!” + The thought could make e’en Death forget + His icy bondage—with a bound + He springs, all bleeding, from the ground, + And grasps his comrade’s arm, now grown + E’en feebler, heavier than his own, + And up the painful pathway leads, + Death gaining on each step he treads. + Speed them, thou God, who heard’st their vow! + They mount—they bleed—oh, save them now!— + The crags are red they’ve clamber’d o’er, + The rock-weeds dripping with their gore;— + Thy blade too, HAFED, false at length, + Now breaks beneath thy tottering strength! + Haste, haste—the voices of the Foe + Come near and nearer from below— + One effort more—thank Heaven! ’tis past, + They’ve gain’d the topmost steep at last. + And now they touch the temple’s walls, + Now HAFED sees the Fire divine— + When, lo!—his weak, worn comrade falls + Dead on the threshold of the Shrine. + “Alas, brave soul, too quickly fled! + “And must I leave thee withering here, + “The sport of every ruffian’s tread, + “The mark for every coward’s spear? + “No, by yon altar’s sacred beams!” + He cries, and, with a strength that seems + Not of this world, uplifts the frame + Of the fallen Chief, and tow’rds the flame + Bears him along;—with death-damp hand + The corpse upon the pyre he lays, + Then lights the consecrated brand, + And fires the pile, whose sudden blaze + Like lightning bursts o’er OMAN’S Sea.— + “Now, Freedom’s God! I come to Thee,” + The youth exclaims, and with a smile + Of triumph vaulting on the pile + In that last effort, ere the fires + Have harm’d one glorious limb, expires! + + What shriek was that on OMAN’S tide? + It came from yonder drifting bark, + That just hath caught upon her side + The death-light—and again is dark. + It is the boat—ah, why delay’d?— + That bears the wretched Moslem maid; + Confided to the watchful care + Of a small veteran band, with whom + Their generous Chieftain would not share + The secret of his final doom, + But hop’d when HINDA, safe and free, + Was render’d to her father’s eyes, + Their pardon, full and prompt, would be + The ransom of so dear a prize.— + Unconscious, thus, of HAFED’S fate, + And proud to guard their beauteous freight, + Scarce had they clear’d the surfy waves + That foam around those frightful caves, + When the curst war-whoops, known so well, + Came echoing from the distant dell— + Sudden each oar, upheld and still, + Hung dripping o’er the vessel’s side, + And, driving at the current’s will, + They rock’d along the whispering tide; + While every eye, in mute dismay, + Was tow’rd that fatal mountain turn’d, + Where the dim altar’s quivering ray + As yet all lone and tranquil burn’d. + + Oh! ’tis not, HINDA, in the power + Of Fancy’s most terrific touch + To paint thy pangs in that dread hour— + Thy silent agony—’twas such + As those who feel could paint too well, + But none e’er felt and lived to tell! + ’Twas not alone the dreary state + Of a lorn spirit crush’d by fate, + When, though no more remains to dread, + The panic chill will not depart;— + When, though the inmate Hope be dead, + Her ghost still haunts the mouldering heart. + No—pleasures, hopes, affections gone, + The wretch may bear, and yet live on, + Like things, within the cold rock found + Alive, when all’s congeal’d around. + But there’s a blank repose in this, + A calm stagnation, that were bliss + To the keen, burning, harrowing pain, + Now felt through all thy breast and brain;— + That spasm of terror, mute, intense, + That breathless, agonis’d suspense, + From whose hot throb, whose deadly aching, + The heart hath no relief but breaking! + + Calm is the wave—heaven’s brilliant lights + Reflected dance beneath the prow;— + Time was when, on such lovely nights, + She who is there, so desolate now, + Could sit all cheerful, though alone, + And ask no happier joy than seeing + That starlight o’er the waters thrown— + No joy but that, to make her blest, + And the fresh, buoyant sense of Being, + Which bounds in youth’s yet careless breast,— + Itself a star, not borrowing light, + But in its own glad essence bright. + How different now!—but, hark, again + The yell of havoc rings—brave men! + In vain, with beating hearts, ye stand + On the bark’s edge—in vain each hand + Half draws the falchion from its sheath; + All’s o’er—in rust your blades may lie:— + He, at whose word they’ve scatter’d death, + E’en now, this night, himself must die! + Well may ye look to yon dim tower, + And ask, and wondering guess what means + The battle-cry at this dead hour— + Ah! she could tell you—she, who leans + Unheeded there, pale, sunk, aghast, + With brow against the dew-cold mast;— + Too well she knows—her more than life, + Her soul’s first idol and its last, + Lies bleeding in that murderous strife. + + But see—what moves upon the height? + Some signal!—’tis a torch’s light. + What bodes its solitary glare? + In gasping silence tow’rd the Shrine + All eyes are turn’d—thine, HINDA, thine + Fix their last fading life-beams there. + ’Twas but a moment—fierce and high + The death-pile blaz’d into the sky, + And far away, o’er rock and flood + Its melancholy radiance sent; + While HAFED, like a vision, stood + Reveal’d before the burning pyre, + Tall, shadowy, like a Spirit of Fire + Shrin’d in its own grand element! + “’Tis he!”—the shuddering maid exclaims,— + But, while she speaks, he’s seen no more; + High burst in air the funeral flames, + And IRAN’S hopes and hers are o’er! + + One wild, heart-broken shriek she gave; + Then sprung, as if to reach that blaze, + Where still she fix’d her dying gaze,— + And, gazing, sunk into the wave, + Deep, deep,—where never care or pain + Shall reach her innocent heart again! + + + -------------- + + + Farewell—farewell to thee, ARABY’S daughter! + (Thus warbled a PERI beneath the dark sea,) + No pearl ever lay, under OMAN’S green water, + More pure in its shell than thy Spirit in thee. + + Oh! fair as the sea-flower close to thee growing, + How light was thy heart till Love’s witchery came, + Like the wind of the south[296] o’er a summer lute blowing, + And hush’d all its music, and withered its frame! + + But long, upon ARABY’S green sunny highlands, + Shall maids and their lovers remember the doom + Of her, who lies sleeping among the Pearl Islands, + With nought but the sea-star[297] to light up her tomb. + + And still, when the merry date-season is burning,[298] + And calls to the palm-groves the young and the old, + The happiest there, from their pastime returning + At sunset, will weep when thy story is told. + + The young village-maid, when with flowers she dresses + Her dark flowing hair for some festival day, + Will think of thy fate till, neglecting her tresses, + She mournfully turns from the mirror away. + + Nor shall IRAN, belov’d of her Hero! forget thee— + Though tyrants watch over her tears as they start, + Close, close by the side of that Hero she’ll set thee, + Embalm’d in the innermost shrine of her heart. + + Farewell—be it ours to embellish thy pillow + With every thing beauteous that grows in the deep; + Each flower of the rock and each gem of the billow + Shall sweeten thy bed and illumine thy sleep. + + Around thee shall glisten the loveliest amber + That ever the sorrowing sea-bird has wept;[299] + With many a shell, in whose hollow-wreath’d chamber + We, Peris of Ocean, by moonlight have slept. + + We’ll dive where the gardens of coral lie darkling, + And plant all the rosiest stems at thy head; + We’ll seek where the sands of the Caspian[300] are sparkling, + And gather their gold to strew over thy bed. + + Farewell—farewell—until Pity’s sweet fountain + Is lost in the hearts of the fair and the brave, + They’ll weep for the Chieftain who died on that mountain, + They’ll weep for the Maiden who sleeps in this wave. + + + -------------- + + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + +The singular placidity with which FADLADEEN had listened, during the +latter part of this obnoxious story, surprised the Princess and FERAMORZ +exceedingly; and even inclined towards him the hearts of these +unsuspicious young persons, who little knew the source of a complacency +so marvellous. The truth was, he had been organising, for the last few +days, a most notable plan of persecution against the poet, in +consequence of some passages that had fallen from him on the second +evening of recital,—which appeared to this worthy Chamberlain to contain +language and principles, for which nothing short of the summary +criticism of the Chabuk[301] would be advisable. It was his intention, +therefore, immediately on their arrival at Cashmere, to give information +to the King of Bucharia of the very dangerous sentiments of his +minstrel; and if, unfortunately, that monarch did not act with suitable +vigour on the occasion, (that is, if he did not give the Chabuk to +FERAMORZ, and a place to FADLADEEN,) there would be an end, he feared, +of all legitimate government in Bucharia. He could not help, however, +auguring better both for himself and the cause of potentates in general; +and it was the pleasure arising from these mingled anticipations that +diffused such unusual satisfaction through his features, and made his +eyes shine out, like poppies of the desert, over the wide and lifeless +wilderness of that countenance. + +Having decided upon the Poet’s chastisement in this manner, he thought +it but humanity to spare him the minor tortures of criticism. +Accordingly, when they assembled the following evening in the pavilion, +and LALLA ROOKH was expecting to see all the beauties of her bard melt +away, one by one, in the acidity of criticism, like pearls in the cup of +the Egyptian queen,—he agreeably disappointed her, by merely saying, +with an ironical smile, that the merits of such a poem deserved to be +tried at a much higher tribunal; and then suddenly passed off into a +panegyric upon all Mussulman sovereigns, more particularly his august +and Imperial master, Aurungzebe,—the wisest and best of the descendants +of Timur,—who, among other great things he had done for mankind, had +given to him, FADLADEEN, the very profitable posts of Betel-carrier, and +Taster of Sherbets to the Emperor, Chief Holder of the Girdle of +Beautiful Forms,[302] and Grand Nazir, or Chamberlain of the Haram. + +They were now not far from that Forbidden River,[303] beyond which no +pure Hindoo can pass; and were reposing for a time in the rich valley of +Hussun Abdaul, which had always been a favourite resting-place of the +Emperors in their annual migrations to Cashmere. Here often had the +Light of the Faith, Jehan-Guire, been known to wander with his beloved +and beautiful Nourmahal: and here would LALLA ROOKH have been happy to +remain for ever, giving up the throne of Bucharia and the world, for +FERAMORZ and love in this sweet, lonely valley. But the time was now +fast approaching when she must see him no longer,—or, what was still +worse, behold him with eyes whose every look belonged to another; and +there was a melancholy preciousness in these last moments, which made +her heart cling to them as it would to life. During the latter paid of +the journey, indeed, she had sunk into a deep sadness, from which +nothing but the presence of the young minstrel could awake her. Like +those lamps in tombs, which only light up when the air is admitted, it +was only at his approach that her eyes became smiling and animated. But +here, in this dear valley, every moment appeared an age of pleasure; she +saw him all day, and was, therefore, all day happy,—resembling, she +often thought, that people of Zinge, who attribute the unfading +cheerfulness they enjoy to one genial star that rises nightly over their +heads.[304] + +The whole party, indeed, seemed in their liveliest mood during the few +days they passed in this delightful solitude. The young attendants of +the Princess, who were here allowed a much freer range than they could +safely be indulged with in a less sequestered place, ran wild among the +gardens and bounded through the meadows, lightly as young roes over the +aromatic plains of Tibet. While FADLADEEN, in addition to the spiritual +comfort derived by him from a pilgrimage to the tomb of the Saint from +whom the valley is named, had also opportunities of indulging, in a +small way, his taste for victims, by putting to death some hundreds of +those unfortunate little lizards,[305] which all pious Mussulmans make +it a point to kill;—taking for granted, that the manner in which the +creature hangs its head is meant as a mimicry of the attitude in which +the Faithful say their prayers. + +About two miles from Hussun Abdaul were those Royal Gardens,[306] which +had grown beautiful under the care of so many lovely eyes, and were +beautiful still, though those eyes could see them no longer. This place, +with its flowers, and its holy silence, interrupted only by the dipping +of the wings of birds in its marble basins filled with the pure water of +those hills, was to LALLA ROOKH all that her heart could fancy of +fragrance, coolness, and almost heavenly tranquillity. As the Prophet +said of Damascus, “it was too delicious;”[307]—and here, in listening to +the sweet voice of FERAMORZ, or reading in his eyes what yet he never +dared to tell her, the most exquisite moments of her whole life were +passed. One evening, when they had been talking of the Sultana +Nourmahal, the Light of the Haram,[308] who had so often wandered among +these flowers, and fed with her own hands, in those marble basins, the +small shining fishes of which she was so fond,[309]—the youth, in order +to delay the moment of separation, proposed to recite a short story, or +rather rhapsody, of which this adored Sultana was the heroine. It +related, he said, to the reconcilement of a sort of lovers’ quarrel +which took place between her and the Emperor during a Feast of Roses at +Cashmere; and would remind the Princess of that difference between +Haroun-al-Raschid and his fair mistress Marida,[310] which was so +happily made up by the soft strains of the musician, Moussali. As the +story was chiefly to be told in song, and FERAMORZ had unluckily +forgotten his own lute in the valley, he borrowed the vina of LALLA +ROOKH’S little Persian slave, and thus began:— + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + The Light of the Haram + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + Who has not heard of the vale of CASHMERE, + With its roses the brightest that earth ever gave,[311] + Its temples, and grottos, and fountains as clear + As the love-lighted eyes that hang over their wave? + + Oh! to see it at sunset,—when warm o’er the Lake + Its splendour at parting a summer eve throws, + Like a bride, full of blushes, when lingering to take + A last look of her mirror at night ere she goes!— + When the shrines through the foliage are gleaming half shown, + And each hallows the hour by some rites of its own. + Here the music of pray’r from a minaret swells, + Here the Magian his urn, full of perfume, is swinging, + And here, at the altar, a zone of sweet bells + Round the waist of some fair Indian dancer is ringing.[312] + Or to see it by moonlight,—when mellowly shines + The light o’er its palaces, gardens, and shrines; + When the water-falls gleam, like a quick fall of stars, + And the nightingale’s hymn from the Isle of Chenars + Is broken by laughs and light echoes of feet + From the cool, shining walks where the young people meet.— + Or at morn, when the magic of daylight awakes + A new wonder each minute, as slowly it breaks, + Hills, cupolas, fountains, call’d forth every one + Out of darkness, as if but just born of the Sun. + When the Spirit of Fragrance is up with the day, + From his Haram of night-flowers stealing away; + And the wind, full of wantonness, woos like a lover + The young aspen-trees,[313] till they tremble all over. + When the East is as warm as the light of first hopes, + And Day, with his banner of radiance unfurl’d, + Shines in through the mountainous portal[314] that opes, + Sublime, from that Valley of bliss to the world! + + But never yet, by night or day, + In dew of spring or summer’s ray, + Did the sweet Valley shine so gay + As now it shines—all love and light, + Visions by day and feasts by night! + A happier smile illumes each brow, + With quicker spread each heart uncloses, + And all is ecstasy—for now + The Valley holds its Feast of Roses;[315] + The joyous Time, when pleasures pour + Profusely round, and, in their shower, + Hearts open, like the Season’s Rose,— + The Flow’ret of a hundred leaves,[316] + Expanding while the dew-fall flows, + And every leaf its balm receives. + + ’Twas when the hour of evening came + Upon the Lake, serene and cool, + When Day had hid his sultry flame + Behind the palms of BARAMOULE,[317] + When maids began to lift their heads, + Refresh’d from their embroider’d beds, + Where they had slept the sun away, + And wak’d to moonlight and to play. + All were abroad—the busiest hive + On BELA’S[318] hills is less alive, + When saffron-beds are full in flower, + Than look’d the Valley in that hour. + A thousand restless torches play’d + Through every grove and island shade; + A thousand sparkling lamps were set + On every dome and minaret; + And fields and pathways, far and near, + Were lighted by a blaze so clear, + That you could see, in wandering round, + The smallest rose-leaf on the ground. + Yet did the maids and matrons leave + Their veils at home, that brilliant eve; + And there were glancing eyes about, + And cheeks, that would not dare shine out + In open day, but thought they might + Look lovely then, because ’twas night. + And all were free, and wandering, + And all exclaim’d to all they met, + That never did the summer bring + So gay a Feast of Roses yet;— + The moon had never shed a light + So clear as that which bless’d them there; + The roses ne’er shone half so bright, + Nor they themselves look’d half so fair. + + And what a wilderness of flowers! + It seem’d as though from all the bowers + And fairest fields of all the year, + The mingled spoil were scatter’d here. + The Lake, too, like a garden breathes, + With the rich buds that o’er it lie,— + As if a shower of fairy wreaths + Had fall’n upon it from the sky! + And then the sounds of joy,—the beat + Of tabors and of dancing feet;— + The minaret-crier’s chaunt of glee + Sung from his lighted gallery,[319] + And answered by a ziraleet + From neighbouring Haram, wild and sweet;— + The merry laughter, echoing + From gardens, where the silken swing[320] + Wafts some delighted girl above + The top leaves of the orange grove; + Or, from those infant groups at play + Among the tents[321] that line the way, + Flinging, unaw’d by slave or mother, + Handfuls of roses at each other.— + Then, the sounds from the Lake, the low whispering in boats, + As they shoot through the moonlight;—the dipping of oars. + And the wild, airy warbling that every where floats, + Through the groves, round the islands, as if all the shores, + Like those of KATHAY, utter’d music, and gave + An answer in song to the kiss of each wave.[322] + But the gentlest of all are those sounds, full of feeling, + That soft from the lute of some lover are stealing,— + Some lover, who knows all the heart-touching power + Of a lute and a sigh in this magical hour. + Oh! best of delights as it every where is + To be near the lov’d _One_,—what a rapture is his + Who in moonlight and music thus sweetly may glide + O’er the Lake of CASHMERE, with that _One_ by his side! + If woman can make the worst wilderness dear, + Think, think what a Heaven she must make of CASHMERE! + + So felt the magnificent Son of ACBAR,[323] + When from power and pomp and the trophies of war + He flew to that Valley, forgetting them all + With the Light of the HARAM, his young NOURMAHAL. + When free and uncrown’d as the Conqueror rov’d + By the banks of that Lake, with his only belov’d, + He saw, in the wreaths she would playfully snatch + From the hedges, a glory his crown could not match, + And preferr’d in his heart the least ringlet that curl’d + Down her exquisite neck to the throne of the world. + + There’s a beauty, for ever unchangingly bright, + Like the long, sunny lapse of a summer-day’s light, + Shining on, shining on, by no shadow made tender, + Till Love falls asleep in its sameness of splendour. + This _was_ not the beauty—oh, nothing like this, + That to young NOURMAHAL gave such magic of bliss! + But that loveliness, ever in motion, which plays + Like the light upon autumn’s soft shadowy days, + Now here and now there, giving warmth as it flies + From the lip to the cheek, from the cheek to the eyes; + Now melting in mist and now breaking in gleams, + Like the glimpses a saint hath of Heav’n in his dreams. + When pensive, it seem’d as if that very grace, + That charm of all others, was born with her face! + And when angry,—for ev’n in the tranquillest climes + Light breezes will ruffle the blossoms sometimes— + The short, passing anger but seem’d to awaken + New beauty, like flowers that are sweetest when shaken. + If tenderness touch’d her, the dark of her eye + At once took a darker, a heavenlier dye, + From the depth of whose shadow, like holy revealings + From innermost shrines, came the light of her feelings. + Then her mirth—oh! ’twas sportive as ever took wing + From the heart with a burst, like the wild-bird in spring; + Illum’d by a wit that would fascinate sages, + Yet playful as Peris just loos’d from their cages.[324] + While her laugh, full of life, without any control + But the sweet one of gracefulness, rung from her soul; + And where it most sparkled no glance could discover, + In lip, cheek, or eyes, for she brighten’d all over,— + Like any fair lake that the breeze is upon, + When it breaks into dimples and laughs in the sun. + Such, such were the peerless enchantments that gave + NOURMAHAL the proud Lord of the East for her slave: + And though bright was his Haram,—a living parterre + Of the flowers[325] of this planet—though treasures were there, + For which SOLIMAN’S self might have giv’n all the store + That the navy from OPHIR e’er wing’d to his shore, + Yet dim before _her_ were the smiles of them all, + And the Light of his Haram was young NOURMAHAL! + + But where is she now, this night of joy, + When bliss is every heart’s employ?— + When all around her is so bright, + So like the visions of a trance, + That one might think, who came by chance + Into the vale this happy night, + He saw that City of Delight[326] + In Fairy-land, whose streets and towers + Are made of gems and light and flowers!— + Where is the lov’d Sultana? where, + When mirth brings out the young and fair, + Does she, the fairest, hide her brow, + In melancholy stillness now? + + Alas!—how light a cause may move + Dissension between hearts that love! + Hearts that the world in vain had tried, + And sorrow but more closely tied; + That stood the storm, when waves were rough, + Yet in a sunny hour fall off, + Like ships that have gone down at sea, + When heaven was all tranquillity! + A something, light as air—a look, + A word unkind or wrongly taken— + Oh! love, that tempests never shook, + A breath, a touch like this hath shaken. + And ruder words will soon rush in + To spread the breach that words begin; + And eyes forget the gentle ray + They wore in courtship’s smiling day; + And voices lose the tone that shed + A tenderness round all they said; + Till fast declining, one by one, + The sweetnesses of love are gone, + And hearts, so lately mingled, seem + Like broken clouds,—or like the stream, + That smiling left the mountain’s brow + As though its waters ne’er could sever, + Yet, ere it reach the plain below, + Breaks into floods, that part for ever. + + Oh, you, that have the charge of Love, + Keep him in rosy bondage bound, + As in the Fields of Bliss above + He sits, with flow’rets fetter’d round;[327]— + Loose not a tie that round him clings, + Nor ever let him use his wings; + For e’en an hour, a minute’s flight + Will rob the plumes of half their light. + Like that celestial bird,—whose nest + Is found beneath far Eastern skies,— + Whose wings, though radiant when at rest, + Lose all their glory when he flies![328] + + Some difference, of this dangerous kind,— + By which, though light, the links that bind + The fondest hearts may soon be riven; + Some shadow in Love’s summer heaven, + Which, though a fleecy speck at first, + May yet in awful thunder burst;— + Such cloud it is that now hangs over + The heart of the Imperial Lover, + And far hath banish’d from his sight + His NOURMAHAL, his Haram’s Light! + Hence is it, on this happy night, + When Pleasure through the fields and groves + Has let loose all her world of loves, + And every heart has found its own, + He wanders, joyless and alone, + And weary as that bird of Thrace, + Whose pinion knows no resting place.[329] + In vain the loveliest cheeks and eyes + This Eden of the Earth supplies + Come crowding round—the cheeks are pale, + The eyes are dim:—though rich the spot + With every flow’r this earth has got, + What is it to the nightingale, + If there his darling rose is not?[330] + In vain the Valley’s smiling throng + Worship him, as he moves along; + He heeds them not—one smile of hers + Is worth a world of worshippers. + They but the Star’s adorers are, + She is the Heav’n that lights the Star! + + Hence is it, too, that NOURMAHAL, + Amid the luxuries of this hour, + Far from the joyous festival, + Sits in her own sequester’d bower, + With no one near, to soothe or aid, + But that inspir’d and wondrous maid, + NAMOUNA, the Enchantress;—one, + O’er whom his race the golden sun + For unremember’d years has run, + Yet never saw her blooming brow + Younger or fairer than ’tis now. + Nay, rather,—as the west wind’s sigh + Freshens the flower it passes by,— + Time’s wing but seem’d, in stealing o’er, + To leave her lovelier than before. + Yet on her smiles a sadness hung, + And when, as oft, she spoke or sung + Of other worlds, there came a light + From her dark eyes so strangely bright, + That all believ’d nor man nor earth + Were conscious of NAMOUNA’S birth! + All spells and talismans she knew, + From the great Mantra,[331] which around + The Air’s sublimer Spirits drew, + To the gold gems[332] of AFRIC, bound + Upon the wandering Arab’s arm, + To keep him from the Siltim’s[333] harm. + And she had pledg’d her powerful art,— + Pledg’d it with all the zeal and heart + Of one who knew, though high her sphere, + What ’twas to lose a love so dear,— + To find some spell that should recall + Her Selim’s[334] smile to NOURMAHAL! + + ’Twas midnight—through the lattice, wreath’d + With woodbine, many a perfume breath’d + From plants that wake when others sleep, + From timid jasmine buds, that keep + Their odour to themselves all day, + But, when the sun-light dies away, + Let the delicious secret out + To every breeze that roams about;— + When thus NAMOUNA:—“’Tis the hour + “That scatters spells on herb and flower, + “And garlands might be gather’d now, + “That, twin’d around the sleeper’s brow, + “Would make him dream of such delights, + “Such miracles and dazzling sights, + “As Genii of the Sun behold, + “At evening, from their tents of gold + “Upon the’ horizon—where they play + “Till twilight comes, and, ray by ray, + “Their sunny mansions melt away. + “Now, too, a chaplet might be wreath’d + “Of buds o’er which the moon has breath’d, + “Which worn by her, whose love has stray’d, + “Might bring some Peri from the skies, + “Some sprite, whose very soul is made + “Of flow’rets’ breaths and lovers’ sighs, + “And who might tell⸺” + “For me, for me,” + Cried NOURMAHAL impatiently,— + “Oh! twine that wreath for me to-night.” + Then, rapidly, with foot as light + As the young musk-roe’s, out she flew, + To cull each shining leaf that grew + Beneath the moonlight’s hallowing beams, + For this enchanted Wreath of Dreams. + Anemones and Seas of Gold,[335] + And new-blown lilies of the river, + And those sweet flow’rets, that unfold + Their buds on CAMADEVA’S quiver;[336] + The tube-rose, with her silvery light, + That in the Gardens of Malay + Is call’d the Mistress of the Night,[337] + So like a bride, scented and bright, + She comes out when the sun’s away;— + Amaranths, such as crown the maids + That wander through ZAMARA’S shades;[338]— + And the white moon-flower, as it shows, + On SERENDIB’S high crags, to those + Who near the isle at evening sail, + Scenting her clove-trees in the gale; + In short, all flow’rets and all plants, + From the divine Amrita tree,[339] + That blesses heaven’s inhabitants + With fruits of immortality, + Down to the basil tuft,[340] that waves + Its fragrant blossom over graves, + And to the humble rosemary, + Whose sweets so thanklessly are shed + To scent the desert[341] and the dead:— + All in that garden bloom, and all + Are gather’d by young NOURMAHAL, + Who heaps her baskets with the flowers + And leaves, till they can hold no more; + Then to NAMOUNA flies, and showers + Upon her lap the shining store. + + With what delight the’ Enchantress views + So many buds, bath’d with the dews + And beams of that bless’d hour!—her glance + Spoke something, past all mortal pleasures, + As, in a kind of holy trance, + She hung above those fragrant treasures, + Bending to drink their balmy airs, + As if she mix’d her soul with theirs. + And ’twas, indeed, the perfume shed + From flow’rs and scented flame, that fed + Her charmèd life—for none had e’er + Beheld her taste of mortal fare, + Nor ever in aught earthly dip, + But the morn’s dew, her roseate lip. + Fill’d with the cool, inspiring smell, + The’ Enchantress now begins her spell, + Thus singing as she winds and weaves + In mystic form the glittering leaves:— + + + -------------- + + + I know where the winged visions dwell + That around the night-bed play; + I know each herb and flow’ret’s bell, + Where they hide their wings by day. + Then hasten we, maid, + To twine our braid, + To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. + + The image of love, that nightly flies + To visit the bashful maid, + Steals from the jasmine flower, that sighs + Its soul, like her, in the shade. + The dream of a future, happier hour, + That alights on misery’s brow, + Springs out of the silvery almond-flower, + That blooms on a leafless bough.[342] + Then hasten we, maid, + To twine our braid, + To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. + + The visions, that oft to worldly eyes + The glitter of mines unfold, + Inhabit the mountain-herb,[343] that dyes + The tooth of the fawn like gold. + The phantom shapes—oh touch not them— + That appal the murderer’s sight, + Lurk in the fleshly mandrake’s stem, + That shrieks, when pluck’d at night! + Then hasten we, maid, + To twine our braid, + To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. + + The dream of the injur’d, patient mind, + That smiles at the wrongs of men, + Is found in the bruis’d and wounded rind + Of the cinnamon, sweetest then. + Then hasten we, maid, + To twine our braid, + To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. + + + -------------- + + + No sooner was the flowery crown + Plac’d on her head, than sleep came down, + Gently as nights of summer fall, + Upon the lids of NOURMAHAL;— + And, suddenly, a tuneful breeze, + As full of small, rich harmonies + As ever wind, that o’er the tents + Of AZAB[344] blew, was full of scents, + Steals on her ear, and floats and swells. + Like the first air of morning creeping + Into those wreathy, Red-Sea shells, + Where Love himself, of old, lay sleeping;[345] + And now a Spirit form’d, ’twould seem, + Of music and of light,—so fair, + So brilliantly his features beam, + And such a sound is in the air + Of sweetness when he waves his wings,— + Hovers around her, and thus sings:— + + + -------------- + + + From CHINDARA’S[346] warbling fount I come, + Call’d by that moonlight garland’s spell; + From CHINDARA’S fount, my fairy home, + Where in music, morn and night, I dwell: + Where lutes in the air are heard about, + And voices are singing the whole day long, + And every sigh the heart breathes out + Is turn’d, as it leaves the lips, to song! + Hither I come + From my fairy home, + And if there’s a magic in Music’s strain, + I swear by the breath + Of that moonlight wreath, + Thy Lover shall sigh at thy feet again. + + For mine is the lay that lightly floats, + And mine are the murmuring, dying notes, + That fall as soft as snow on the sea, + And melt in the heart as instantly:— + And the passionate strain that, deeply going, + Refines the bosom it trembles through, + As the musk-wind, over the water blowing, + Ruffles the wave, but sweetens it too. + + Mine is the charm, whose mystic sway + The Spirits of past Delight obey;— + Let but the tuneful talisman sound, + And they come, like Genii, hovering round. + And mine is the gentle song that bears + From soul to soul, the wishes of love, + As a bird, that wafts through genial airs + The cinnamon-seed from grove to grove.[347] + + ’Tis I that mingle in one sweet measure + The past, the present, and future of pleasure;[348] + When Memory links the tone that is gone + With the blissful tone that’s still in the ear; + And Hope from a heavenly note flies on + To a note more heavenly still that is near. + + The warrior’s heart, when touch’d by me, + Can as downy soft and as yielding be + As his own white plume, that high amid death + Through the field has shone—yet moves with a breath! + And oh, how the eyes of Beauty glisten, + When Music has reach’d her inward soul, + Like the silent stars, that wink and listen + While Heaven’s eternal melodies roll. + So, hither I come + From my fairy home, + And if there’s a magic in Music’s strain, + I swear by the breath + Of that moonlight wreath, + Thy Lover shall sigh at thy feet again. + + + -------------- + + + ’Tis dawn—at least that earlier dawn, + Whose glimpses are again withdrawn,[349] + As if the morn had wak’d, and then + Shut close her lids of light again. + And NOURMAHAL is up, and trying + The wonders of her lute, whose strings— + Oh, bliss!—now murmur like the sighing + From that ambrosial Spirit’s wings. + And then, her voice—’tis more than human— + Never, till now, had it been given + To lips of any mortal woman + To utter notes so fresh from heaven; + Sweet as the breath of angel sighs, + When angel sighs are most divine.— + “Oh! let it last till night,” she cries, + “And he is more than ever mine.” + And hourly she renews the lay, + So fearful lest its heavenly sweetness + Should, ere the evening, fade away,— + For things so heavenly have such fleetness! + But, far from fading, it but grows + Richer, diviner as it flows; + Till rapt she dwells on every string, + And pours again each sound along, + Like echo, lost and languishing, + In love with her own wondrous song. + + That evening, (trusting that his soul + Might be from haunting love releas’d + By mirth, by music, and the bowl,) + The’ Imperial SELIM held a feast + In his magnificent Shalimar:[350]— + In whose Saloons, when the first star + Of evening o’er the waters trembled, + The Valley’s loveliest all assembled; + All the bright creatures that, like dreams, + Glide through its foliage, and drink beams + Of beauty from its founts and streams;[351] + And all those wandering minstrel-maids, + Who leave—how _can_ they leave?—the shades + Of that dear Valley, and are found + Singing in gardens of the South[352] + Those songs, that ne’er so sweetly sound + As from a young Cashmerian’s mouth. + There, too, the Haram’s inmates smile;— + Maids from the West, with sun-bright hair, + And from the Garden of the NILE, + Delicate as the roses there;[353]— + Daughters of Love from CYPRUS’ rocks, + With Paphian diamonds in their locks;[354]— + Light PERI forms, such as there are + On the gold meads of CANDAHAR;[355] + And they, before whose sleepy eyes, + In their own bright Kathaian bowers, + Sparkle such rainbow butterflies, + That they might fancy the rich flowers, + That round them in the sun lay sighing, + Had been by magic all set flying.[356] + + Every thing young, every thing fair + From East and West is blushing there, + Except—except—oh, NOURMAHAL! + Thou loveliest, dearest of them all, + The one, whose smile shone out alone, + Amidst a world the only one; + Whose light, among so many lights, + Was like that star on starry nights, + The seaman singles from the sky, + To steer his bark for ever by! + Thou wert not there—so SELIM thought, + And every thing seem’d drear without thee; + But, ah! thou wert, thou wert,—and brought + Thy charm of song all fresh about thee. + Mingling unnoticed with a band + Of lutanists from many a land, + And veil’d by such a mask as shades + The features of young Arab maids,[357]— + A mask that leaves but one eye free, + To do its best in witchery,— + She rov’d, with beating heart, around, + And waited, trembling, for the minute, + When she might try if still the sound + Of her lov’d lute had magic in it. + + The board was spread with fruits and wine; + With grapes of gold, like those that shine + On CASBIN’S hills;[358]—pomegranates full + Of melting sweetness, and the pears, + And sunniest apples[359] that CAUBUL + In all its thousand gardens[360]bears;— + Plantains, the golden and the green, + MALAYA’S nectar’d mangusteen;[361] + Prunes of BOKARA, and sweet nuts + From the far groves of SAMARCAND, + And BASRA dates, and apricots, + Seed of the Sun,[362] from IRAN’S land;— + With rich conserve of Visna cherries,[363] + Of orange flowers, and of those berries + That, wild and fresh, the young gazelles + Feed on in ERAC’S rocky dells.[364] + All these in richest vases smile, + In baskets of pure santal-wood, + And urns of porcelain from that isle[365] + Sunk underneath the Indian flood, + Whence oft the lucky diver brings + Vases to grace the halls of kings. + Wines, too, of every clime and hue, + Around their liquid lustre threw; + Amber Rosolli,[366]—the bright dew + From vineyards of the Green-Sea gushing;[367] + And SHIRAZ wine, that richly ran + As if that jewel, large and rare, + The ruby for which KUBLAI-KHAN + Offer’d a city’s wealth,[368] was blushing + Melted within the goblets there! + + And amply SELIM quaffs of each, + And seems resolv’d the flood shall reach + His inward heart,—shedding around + A genial deluge, as they run, + That soon shall leave no spot undrown’d, + For Love to rest his wings upon. + He little knew how well the boy + Can float upon a goblet’s streams, + Lighting them with his smile of joy;— + As bards have seen him in their dreams, + Down the blue GANGES laughing glide + Upon a rosy lotus wreath,[369] + Catching new lustre from the tide + That with his image shone beneath. + + But what are cups, without the aid + Of song to speed them as they flow? + And see—a lovely Georgian maid, + With all the bloom, the freshen’d glow + Of her own country maidens’ looks, + When warm they rise from TEFLIS’ brooks;[370] + And with an eye, whose restless ray, + Full, floating, dark—oh, he, who knows + His heart is weak, of heaven should pray + To guard him from such eyes as those!— + With a voluptuous wildness flings + Her snowy hand across the strings + Of a syrinda,[371] and thus sings:— + + + -------------- + + + Come hither, come hither—by night and by day, + We linger in pleasures that never are gone; + Like the waves of the summer, as one dies away, + Another as sweet and as shining comes on. + And the love that is o’er, in expiring, gives birth + To a new one as warm, as unequall’d in bliss; + And, oh! if there be an Elysium on earth, + It is this, it is this.[372] + + Here maidens are sighing, and fragrant their sigh + As the flower of the Amra just op’d by a bee;[373] + And precious their tears as that rain from the sky,[374] + Which turns into pearls as it falls in the sea. + Oh! think what the kiss and the smile must be worth + When the sigh and the tear are so perfect in bliss, + And own if there be an Elysium on earth, + It is this, it is this. + + Here sparkles the nectar, that, hallow’d by love, + Could draw down those angels of old from their sphere, + Who for wine of this earth[375] left the fountains above, + And forgot heaven’s stars for the eyes we have here. + And, bless’d with the odour our goblet gives forth, + What Spirit the sweets of his Eden would miss? + For, oh! if there be an Elysium on earth, + It is this, it is this. + + + -------------- + + The Georgian’s song was scarcely mute, + When the same measure, sound for sound, + Was caught up by another lute, + And so divinely breathed around, + That all stood hush’d and wondering, + And turn’d and look’d into the air, + As if they thought to see the wing + Of ISRAFIL,[376] the Angel, there;— + So powerfully on every soul + That new, enchanted measure stole. + While now a voice, sweet as the note + Of the charm’d lute, was heard to float + Along its chords, and so entwine + Its sounds with theirs, that none knew whether + The voice or lute was most divine, + So wondrously they went together:— + + + -------------- + + + There’s a bliss beyond all that the minstrel has told, + When two, that are link’d in one heavenly tie, + With heart never changing, and brow never cold, + Love on through all ills, and love on till they die! + One hour of a passion so sacred is worth + Whole ages of heartless and wandering bliss; + And, oh! if there _be_ an Elysium on earth, + It is this, it is this. + + + -------------- + + Twas not the air, ’twas not the words, + But that deep magic in the chords + And in the lips, that gave such power + As music knew not till that hour. + At once a hundred voices said, + “It is the mask’d Arabian maid!” + While SELIM, who had felt the strain + Deepest of any, and had lain + Some minutes rapt, as in a trance, + After the fairy sounds were o’er, + Too inly touched for utterance, + Now motion’d with his hand for more:— + + + -------------- + + + Fly to the desert, fly with me, + Our Arab tents are rude for thee; + But, oh! the choice what heart can doubt, + Of tents with love, or thrones without? + + Our rocks are rough, but smiling there + The’ acacia waves her yellow hair, + Lonely and sweet, nor lov’d the less + For flowering in a wilderness. + + Our sands are bare, but down their slope + The silvery-footed antelope + As gracefully and gaily springs + As o’er the marble courts of kings. + + Then come—thy Arab maid will be + The lov’d and lone acacia-tree, + The antelope, whose feet shall bless + With their light sound thy loneliness. + + Oh! there are looks and tones that dart + An instant sunshine through the heart,— + As if the soul that minute caught + Some treasure it through life had sought; + + As if the very lips and eyes, + Predestin’d to have all our sighs, + And never be forgot again, + Sparkled and spoke before us then! + + So came thy every glance and tone, + When first on me they breath’d and shone; + New, as if brought from other spheres, + Yet welcome as if loved for years. + + Then fly with me,—if thou hast known + No other flame, nor falsely thrown + A gem away, that thou hadst sworn + Should ever in thy heart be worn. + + Come, if the love thou hast for me + Is pure and fresh as mine for thee,— + Fresh as the fountain under ground, + When first ’tis by the lapwing found.[377] + + But if for me thou dost forsake + Some other maid, and rudely break + Her worshipp’d image from its base, + To give to me the ruin’d place;— + + Then, fare thee well—I’d rather make + My bower upon some icy lake + When thawing suns begin to shine, + Than trust to love so false as thine! + + + -------------- + + + There was a pathos in this lay, + That, e’en without enchantment’s art, + Would instantly have found its way + Deep into SELIM’S burning heart; + But, breathing, as it did, a tone + To earthly lutes and lips unknown; + With every chord fresh from the touch + Of Music’s Spirit,—’twas too much! + Starting, he dash’d away the cup,— + Which, all the time of this sweet air, + His hand had held, untasted, up, + As if ’twere fix’d by magic there,— + And naming her, so long unnam’d, + So long unseen, wildly exclaim’d, + “Oh NOURMAHAL! oh NOURMAHAL! + “Hadst thou but sung this witching strain, + “I could forget—forgive thee all, + “And never leave those eyes again.” + + The mask is off—the charm is wrought— + And SELIM to his heart has caught, + In blushes, more than ever bright, + His NOURMAHAL, his Haram’s Light! + And well do vanish’d frowns enhance + The charm of every brightened glance; + And dearer seems each dawning smile + For having lost its light awhile: + And, happier now for all her sighs, + As on his arm her head reposes, + She whispers him with laughing eyes, + “Remember, love, the Feast of Roses!” + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + +FADLADEEN, at the conclusion of this light rhapsody, took occasion to +sum up his opinion of the young Cashmerian’s poetry,—of which, he +trusted, they had that evening heard the last. Having recapitulated the +epithets, “frivolous”—“inharmonious”—“nonsensical,” he proceeded to say +that, viewing it in the most favourable light, it resembled one of those +Maldivian boats, to which the Princess had alluded in the relation of +her dream,[378]—a slight, gilded thing, sent adrift without rudder or +ballast, and with nothing but vapid sweets and faded flowers on board. +The profusion, indeed, of flowers and birds, which this poet had ready +on all occasions,—not to mention dews, gems, &c.—was a most oppressive +kind of opulence to his hearers; and had the unlucky effect of giving to +his style all the glitter of the flower-garden without its method, and +all the flutter of the aviary without its song. In addition to this, he +chose his subjects badly, and was always most inspired by the worst +parts of them. The charms of paganism, the merits of rebellion,—these +were the themes honoured with his particular enthusiasm; and, in the +poem just recited, one of his most palatable passages was in praise of +that beverage of the Unfaithful, wine;—“being, perhaps,” said he, +relaxing into a smile, as conscious of his own character in the Haram on +this point, “one of those bards, whose fancy owes all its illumination +to the grape, like that painted porcelain,[379] so curious and so rare, +whose images are only visible when liquor is poured into it.” Upon the +whole, it was his opinion, from the specimens which they had heard, and +which, he begged to say, were the most tiresome part of the journey, +that—whatever other merits this well-dressed young gentleman might +possess—poetry was by no means his proper avocation: “and indeed,” +concluded the critic, “from his fondness for flowers and for birds, I +would venture to suggest that a florist or a bird-catcher is a much more +suitable calling for him than a poet.” + +They had now begun to ascend those barren mountains, which separate +Cashmere from the rest of India; and, as the heats were intolerable, and +the time of their encampments limited to the few hours necessary for +refreshment and repose, there was an end to all their delightful +evenings, and LALLA ROOKH saw no more of FERAMORZ. She now felt that her +short dream of happiness was over, and that she had nothing but the +recollection of its few blissful hours, like the one draught of sweet +water that serves the camel across the wilderness, to be her heart’s +refreshment during the dreary waste of life that was before her. The +blight that had fallen upon her spirits soon found its way to her cheek, +and her ladies saw with regret—though not without some suspicion of the +cause—that the beauty of their mistress, of which they were almost as +proud as of their own, was fast vanishing away at the very moment of all +when she had most need of it. What must the King of Bucharia feel, when, +instead of the lively and beautiful LALLA ROOKH, whom the poets of Delhi +had described as more perfect than the divinest images in the house of +Azor,[380] he should receive a pale and inanimate victim, upon whose +cheek neither health nor pleasure bloomed, and from whose eyes Love had +fled,—to hide himself in her heart? + +If anything could have charmed away the melancholy of her spirits, it +would have been the fresh airs and enchanting scenery of that Valley, +which the Persians so justly call the Unequalled.[381] But neither the +coolness of its atmosphere, so luxurious after toiling up those bare and +burning mountains,—neither the splendour of the minarets and pagodas, +that shone out from the depth of its woods, nor the grottos, hermitages, +and miraculous fountains,[382] which make every spot of that region holy +ground,—neither the countless waterfalls, that rush into the Valley from +all those high and romantic mountains that encircle it, nor the fair +city on the Lake, whose houses, roofed with flowers,[383] appeared at a +distance like one vast and variegated parterre;—not all these wonders +and glories of the most lovely country under the sun could steal her +heart for a minute from those sad thoughts, which but darkened, and grew +bitterer every step she advanced. + +The gay pomps and processions that met her upon her entrance into the +Valley, and the magnificence with which the roads all along were +decorated, did honour to the taste and gallantry of the young King. It +was night when they approached the city, and, for the last two miles, +they had passed under arches, thrown from hedge to hedge, festooned with +only those rarest roses from which the Attar Gul, more precious than +gold, is distilled, and illuminated in rich and fanciful forms with +lanterns of the triple-coloured tortoise-shell of Pegu.[384] Sometimes, +from a dark wood by the side of the road, a display of fire-works would +break out, so sudden and so brilliant, that a Brahmin might fancy he +beheld that grove, in whose purple shade the God of Battles was born, +bursting into a flame at the moment of his birth;—while, at other times, +a quick and playful irradiation continued to brighten all the fields and +gardens by which they passed, forming a line of dancing lights along the +horizon; like the meteors of the north as they are seen by those +hunters,[385] who pursue the white and blue foxes on the confines of the +Icy Sea. + +These arches and fire-works delighted the Ladies of the Princess +exceedingly; and, with their usual good logic, they deduced from his +taste for illuminations, that the King of Bucharia would make the most +exemplary husband imaginable. Nor, indeed, could LALLA ROOKH herself +help feeling the kindness and splendour with which the young bridegroom +welcomed her;—but she also felt how painful is the gratitude, which +kindness from those we cannot love excites; and that their best +blandishments come over the heart with all that chilling and deadly +sweetness, which we can fancy in the cold, odoriferous wind[386] that is +to blow over this earth in the last days. + +The marriage was fixed for the morning after her arrival, when she was, +for the first time, to be presented to the monarch in that Imperial +Palace beyond the lake, called the Shalimar. Though never before had a +night of more wakeful and anxious thought been passed in the Happy +Valley, yet, when she rose in the morning, and her Ladies came around +her, to assist in the adjustment of the bridal ornaments, they thought +they had never seen her look half so beautiful. What she had lost of the +bloom and radiancy of her charms was more than made up by that +intellectual expression, that soul beaming forth from the eyes, which is +worth all the rest of loveliness. When they had tinged her fingers with +the Henna leaf, and placed upon her brow a small coronet of jewels, of +the shape worn by the ancient Queens of Bucharia, they flung over her +head the rose-coloured bridal veil, and she proceeded to the barge that +was to convey her across the lake;—first kissing, with a mournful look, +the little amulet of cornelian, which her father at parting had hung +about her neck. + +The morning was as fresh and fair as the maid on whose nuptials it rose, +and the shining lake, all covered with boats, the minstrels playing upon +the shores of the islands, and the crowded summer-houses on the green +hills around, with shawls and banners waving from their roofs, presented +such a picture of animated rejoicing, as only she, who was the object of +it all, did not feel with transport. To LALLA ROOKH alone it was a +melancholy pageant; nor could she have even borne to look upon the +scene, were it not for a hope that, among the crowds around, she might +once more perhaps catch a glimpse of FERAMORZ. So much was her +imagination haunted by this thought, that there was scarcely an islet or +boat she passed on the way, at which her heart did not flutter with the +momentary fancy that he was there. Happy, in her eyes, the humblest +slave upon whom the light of his dear looks fell!—In the barge +immediately after the Princess sat FADLADEEN, with his silken curtains +thrown widely apart, that all might have the benefit of his august +presence, and with his head full of the speech he was to deliver to the +King, “concerning FERAMORZ, and literature, and the Chabuk, as connected +therewith.” + +They now had entered the canal which leads from the Lake to the splendid +domes and saloons of the Shalimar, and went gliding on through the +gardens that ascended from each bank, full of flowering shrubs that made +the air all perfume; while from the middle of the canal rose jets of +water, smooth and unbroken, to such a dazzling height, that they stood +like tall pillars of diamond in the sunshine. After sailing under the +arches of various saloons, they at length arrived at the last and most +magnificent, where the monarch awaited the coming of his bride; and such +was the agitation of her heart and frame, that it was with difficulty +she could walk up the marble steps, which were covered with cloth of +gold for her ascent from the barge. At the end of the hall stood two +thrones, as precious as the Cerulean Throne of Coolburga,[387] on one of +which sat ALIRIS, the youthful King of Bucharia, and on the other was, +in a few minutes, to be placed the most beautiful Princess in the world. +Immediately upon the entrance of LALLA ROOKH into the saloon, the +monarch descended from his throne to meet her; but scarcely had he time +to take her hand in his, when she screamed with surprise, and fainted at +his feet. It was FERAMORZ himself that stood before her!—FERAMORZ was, +himself, the Sovereign of Bucharia, who in this disguise had accompanied +his young bride from Delhi, and, having won her love as an humble +minstrel, now amply deserved to enjoy it as a King. + +The consternation of FADLADEEN at this discovery was, for the moment, +almost pitiable. But change of opinion is a resource too convenient in +courts for this experienced courtier not to have learned to avail +himself of it. His criticisms were all, of course, recanted instantly: +he was seized with an admiration of the King’s verses, as unbounded as, +he begged him to believe, it was disinterested; and the following week +saw him in possession of an additional place, swearing by all the Saints +of Islam that never had there existed so great a poet as the Monarch +ALIRIS, and, moreover, ready to prescribe his favourite regimen of the +Chabuk for every man, woman, and child that dared to think otherwise. + +Of the happiness of the King and Queen of Bucharia, after such a +beginning, there can be but little doubt; and, among the lesser +symptoms, it is recorded of LALLA ROOKH, that, to the day of her death, +in memory of their delightful journey, she never called the King by any +other name than FERAMORZ. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + NOTES. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + NOTES. + + +Footnote 1: + + p. 2.—_He embarked for Arabia._—These particulars of the visit of the + King of Bucharia to Aurungzebe are found in _Dow’s History of + Hindostan_, vol. iii. p. 392. + +Footnote 2: + + p. 2.—LALLA ROOKH.—Tulip cheek. + +Footnote 3: + + p. 2.—_Leila._—The mistress of Mejnoun, upon whose story so many + Romances in all the languages of the East are founded. + +Footnote 4: + + p. 2.—_Shirine._—For the loves of this celebrated beauty with Khosrou + and with Ferhad, see _D’Herbelot_, _Gibbon_, _Oriental Collections_, + &c. + +Footnote 5: + + p. 2.—_Dewildé._—“The history of the loves of Dewildé and Chizer, the + son of the Emperor Alla, is written in an elegant poem, by the noble + Chusero.”—_Ferishta._ + +Footnote 6: + + p. 2.—_Scattering of the Roses._—Gul Reazee. + +Footnote 7: + + p. 3.—_Emperor’s favour._—“One mark of honour or knighthood bestowed + by the Emperor is the permission to wear a small kettledrum at the + bows of their saddles, which at first was invented for the training of + hawks, and to call them to the lure, and is worn in the field by all + sportsmen to that end.”—_Fryer_’s Travels. + + “Those on whom the King has conferred the privilege must wear an + ornament of jewels on the right side of the turban, surmounted by a + high plume of the feathers of a kind of egret. This bird is found only + in Cashmere, and the feathers are carefully collected for the King, + who bestows them on his nobles.”—_Elphinstone_’s Account of Caubul. + +Footnote 8: + + p. 3.—_Keder Khan._—“Khedar Khan, the Khakan, or King of + Turquestan beyond the Gihon (at the end of the eleventh century), + whenever he appeared abroad, was preceded by seven hundred + horsemen with silver battle-axes, and was followed by an equal + number bearing maces of gold. He was a great patron of poetry, and + it was he who used to preside at public exercises of genius, with + four basins of gold and silver by him to distribute among the + poets who excelled.”—_Richardson_’s Dissertation prefixed to his + Dictionary. + +Footnote 9: + + p. 3.—_Gilt pine-apples._—“The kubdeh, a large golden knob, generally + in the shape of a pine-apple, on the top of the canopy over the litter + or palanquin.”—_Scott_’s Notes on the Bahardanush. + +Footnote 10: + + p. 4.—_Sumptuous litter._—In the Poem of Zohair, in the Moallakat, + there is the following lively description of “a company of maidens + seated on camels.” + + “They are mounted in carriages covered with costly awnings, and with + rose-coloured veils, the linings of which have the hue of crimson + Andem-wood. + + “When they ascend from the bosom of the vale, they sit forward on the + saddle-cloth, with every mark of a voluptuous gaiety. + + “Now, when they have reached the brink of yon blue-gushing rivulet, + they fix the poles of their tents like the Arab with a settled + mansion.” + +Footnote 11: + + p. 4.—_Argus pheasant’s wing._—See _Bernier_’s description of the + attendants on Raucha-nara-Begum, in her progress to Cashmere. + +Footnote 12: + + p. 4.—_Munificent protector._—This hypocritical Emperor would have + made a worthy associate of certain Holy Leagues.—“He held the cloak of + religion (says Dow) between his actions and the vulgar; and impiously + thanked the Divinity for a success which he owed to his own + wickedness. When he was murdering and persecuting his brothers and + their families, he was building a magnificent mosque at Delhi, as an + offering to God for his assistance to him in the civil wars. He acted + as high priest at the consecration of this temple; and made a practice + of attending divine service there, in the humble dress of a Fakeer. + But when he lifted one hand to the Divinity, he, with the other, + signed warrants for the assassination of his relations.”—_History of + Hindostan_, vol. iii. p. 335. See also the curious letter of + Aurungzebe, given in the _Oriental Collections_, vol. i. p. 320. + +Footnote 13: + + p. 4.—_The idol of Jaghernaut._—“The idol at Jaghernat has two fine + diamonds for eyes. No goldsmith is suffered to enter the Pagoda, one + having stole one of these eyes, being locked up all night with the + Idol.”—_Tavernier._ + +Footnote 14: + + p. 5.—_Royal Gardens of Delhi._—See a description of these Royal + Gardens in “An Account of the present State of Delhi, by Lieut. W. + Franklin.”—_Asiat. Research._ vol. iv. p. 417. + +Footnote 15: + + p. 5.—_Lake of Pearl._—“In the neighbourhood is Notte Gill, or the + Lake of Pearl, which receives this name from its pellucid water.” + _Pennant_’s Hindoostan. + + “Nasir Jung encamped in the vicinity of the Lake of Tonoor, amused + himself with sailing on that clear and beautiful water, and gave it + the fanciful name of Motee Talah, ‘the Lake of Pearls,’ which it still + retains.”—_Wilks_’s South of India. + +Footnote 16: + + p. 5.—_Isles of the West._—Sir Thomas Roe, Ambassador from James I. to + Jehan-Guire. + +Footnote 17: + + p. 6.—_Ezra._—“The romance Wemakweazra, written in Persian verse, + which contains the loves of Wamak and Ezra, two celebrated lovers who + lived before the time of Mahomet.”—_Note on the Oriental Tales._ + +Footnote 18: + + p. 6.—_Rodahver._—Their amour is recounted in the Shah-Namêh of + Ferdousi; and there is much beauty in the passage which describes the + slaves of Rodahver sitting on the bank of the river and throwing + flowers into the stream, in order to draw the attention of the young + Hero who is encamped on the opposite side.—See _Champion_’s + translation. + +Footnote 19: + + p. 6.—_White Demon._—Rustam is the Hercules of the Persians. For the + particulars of his victory over the Sepeed Deeve, or White Demon, see + _Oriental Collections_, vol. ii. p. 45.—“Near the city of Shirauz is + an immense quadrangular monument, in commemoration of this combat, + called the Kelaat-i-Deev Sepeed, or castle of the White Giant, which + Father Angelo, in his Gazophilacium Persicum, p. 127, declares to have + been the most memorable monument of antiquity which he had seen in + Persia.”—See _Ouseley_’s Persian Miscellanies. + +Footnote 20: + + p. 6.—_Golden anklets._—“The women of the Idol, or dancing girls of + the Pagoda, have little golden bells, fastened to their feet, the soft + harmonious tinkling of which vibrates in unison with the exquisite + melody of their voices.”—_Maurice_’s Indian Antiquities. + + “The Arabian courtesans, like the Indian women, have little golden + bells fastened round their legs, neck and elbows, to the sound of + which they dance before the King. The Arabian princesses wear golden + rings on their fingers, to which little bells are suspended, as well + as in the flowing tresses of their hair, that their superior rank may + be known, and they themselves receive in passing the homage due to + them.”—See _Calmet_’s Dictionary, art. Bells. + +Footnote 21: + + p. 6.—_Delicious opium._—“Abou-Tige, ville de la Thebaïde, où il croît + beaucoup de pavot noir, dont se fait le meilleur opium.”—_D’Herbelot._ + +Footnote 22: + + p. 7.—_Crishna._—The Indian Apollo.—“He and the three Rámas are + described as youths of perfect beauty; and the princesses of Hindustán + were all passionately in love with Chrishna, who continues to this + hour the darling God of the Indian women.”—_Sir W. Jones_, on the Gods + of Greece, Italy, and India. + +Footnote 23: + + p. 7.—_Shawl-goats of Tibet._—See _Turner_’s Embassy for a description + of this animal, “the most beautiful among the whole tribe of goats.” + The material for the shawls (which is carried to Cashmere) is found + next the skin. + +Footnote 24: + + p. 8.—_Veiled Prophet of Khorassan._—For the real history of this + Impostor, whose original name was Hakem ben Haschem, and who was + called Mocanna from the veil of silver gauze (or, as others say, + golden) which he always wore, see _D’Herbelot_. + +Footnote 25: + + p. 9.—_Khorassan._—Khorassan signifies, in the old Persian language, + Province or Region of the Sun.—_Sir W. Jones._ + +Footnote 26: + + p. 11.—_Flow’rets and fruits, blush over ev’ry stream._ + + “The fruits of Meru are finer than those of any other place; and one + cannot see in any other city such palaces with groves, and streams, + and gardens.”—_Ebn Haukal_’s Geography. + +Footnote 27: + + p. 12.—_Among_ MEROU’S _bright palaces and groves._ + + One of the royal cities of Khorassan. + +Footnote 28: + + p. 12.—MOUSSA’S.—Moses. + +Footnote 29: + + p. 12.—_O’er_ MOUSSA’S _cheek, when down the Mount he trod._ + + “Ses disciples assuroient qu’il se couvroit le visage, pour ne pas + éblouir ceux qui l’approchoient par l’éclat de son visage comme + Moyse.”—_D’Herbelot._ + +Footnote 30: + + p. 12.—_In hatred to the Caliph’s hue of night._ + + Black was the colour adopted by the Caliphs of the House of Abbas, in + their garments, turbans, and standards.—“Il faut remarquer ici + touchant les habits blancs des disciples de Hakem, que la couleur des + habits, des coëffures et des étendards des Khalifes Abassides étant la + noire, ce chef de Rebelles ne pouvoit pas choisir une qui lui fut plus + opposée.”—_D’Herbelot._ + +Footnote 31: + + p. 12.—_With javelins of the light Kathaian reed._ + + “Our dark javelins, exquisitely wrought of Khathaian reeds, slender + and delicate.”—_Poem of Amru._ + +Footnote 32: + + p. 13.—_Fill’d with the stems._ + + Pichula, used anciently for arrows by the Persians. + +Footnote 33: + + p. 13.—_That bloom on_ IRAN’S _rivers._ + + The Persians call this plant Gaz. The celebrated shaft of Isfendiar, + one of their ancient heroes, was made of it.—“Nothing can be more + beautiful than the appearance of this plant in flower during the rains + on the banks of rivers, where it is usually interwoven with a lovely + twining asclepias.”—_Sir W. Jones_, Botanical Observations on Select + Indian Plants. + +Footnote 34: + + p. 13.—_Like a chenar-tree grove, when winter throws._ + + The oriental plane. “The chenar is a delightful tree; its bole is of a + fine white and smooth bark; and its foliage, which grows in a tuft at + the summit, is of a bright green.”—_Morier_’s Travels. + +Footnote 35: + + p. 14.—_From those who kneel at_ BRAHMA’S _burning founts._ + + The burning fountains of Brahma near Chittogong, esteemed as + holy.—_Turner._ + +Footnote 36: + + p. 14.—_To the small, half-shut glances of_ KATHAY.—China. + +Footnote 37: + + p. 15.—_Like tulip-beds, of different shape and dyes._ + + “The name of tulip is said to be of Turkish extraction, and given to + the flower on account of its resembling a turban.”—_Beckmann_’s + History of Inventions. + +Footnote 38: + + p. 15.—_And fur-bound bonnet of Bucharian shape._ + + “The inhabitants of Bucharia wear a round cloth bonnet, shaped much + after the Polish fashion, having a large fur border. They tie their + kaftans about the middle with a girdle of a kind of silk crape, + several times round the body.”—_Account of Independent Tartary, in + Pinkerton’s Collection._ + +Footnote 39: + + p. 15.—_O’erwhelm’d in fight and captive to the Greek._ + + In the war of the Caliph Mahadi against the Empress Irene, for an + account of which vide _Gibbon_, vol. x. + +Footnote 40: + + p. 18.—_The flying throne of star-taught_ SOLIMAN. + + This wonderful Throne was called The Star of the Genii. For a full + description of it, see the Fragment, translated by Captain Franklin, + from a Persian MS. entitled “The History of Jerusalem,” _Oriental + Collections_, vol. i. p. 235.—When Soliman travelled, the eastern + writers say, “He had a carpet of green silk on which his throne was + placed, being of a prodigious length and breadth, and sufficient for + all his forces to stand upon, the men placing themselves on his right + hand, and the spirits on his left; and that when all were in order, + the wind, at his command, took up the carpet, and transported it, with + all that were upon it, wherever he pleased; the army of birds at the + same time flying over their heads, and forming a kind of canopy to + shade them from the sun.”—_Sale_’s Koran, vol ii. p. 214, note. + +Footnote 41: + + p. 18.—_For many an age, in every chance and change._ + + The transmigration of souls was one of his doctrines.—Vide + _D’Herbelot_. + +Footnote 42: + + p. 18.—_To which all Heaven, except the Proud One, knelt._ + + “And when we said unto the angels, Worship Adam, they all worshipped + except Eblis (Lucifer), who refused.”—_The Koran_, chap. ii. + +Footnote 43: + + p. 18.—_In_ MOUSSA’S _frame—and, thence descending, flow’d._—Moses. + +Footnote 44: + + p. 18.—_Through many a Prophet’s breast._ + + This is according to D’Herbelot’s account of the doctrines of + Mokanna:—“Sa doctrine étoit, que Dieu avoit pris une forme et figure + humaine, depuis qu’il eut commandé aux Anges d’adorer Adam, le premier + des hommes. Qu’après la mort d’Adam, Dieu étoit apparu sous la figure + de plusieurs Prophètes, et autres grands hommes qu’il avoit choisis, + jusqu’à ce qu’il prit celle d’Abu Moslem, Prince de Khorassan, lequel + professoit l’erreur de la Tenassukhiah ou Metempschychose; et qu’après + la mort de ce Prince, la Divinité étoit passée, et descendue en sa + personne.” + +Footnote 45: + + p. 18.—_In_ ISSA _shone._—Jesus. + +Footnote 46: + + p. 22.—_Born by that ancient flood, which from its spring._ + + 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. + +Footnote 47: + + p. 24.—_The bulbul utters, ere her soul depart._—The nightingale. + +Footnote 48: + + p. 34.—_In holy_ KOOM, _or_ MECCA’S _dim arcades._ + + 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._ + +Footnote 49: + + p. 34.—_Stood vases, fill’d with_ KISHMEE’S _golden wine._ + + An island in the Persian Gulf, celebrated for its white wine. + +Footnote 50: + + p. 34.—_Like_ ZEMZEM’S _Spring of Holiness, had power._ + + The miraculous well at Mecca; so called, says Sale, from the murmuring + of its waters. + +Footnote 51: + + p. 35.—_Whom_ INDIA _serves, the monkey deity._ + + The God Hannaman.—“Apes are in many parts of India highly venerated, + out of respect to the God Hannaman, a deity partaking of the form of + that race.”—_Pennant_’s Hindoostan. + + See a curious account, in _Stephen_’s _Persia_, of a solemn embassy + from some part of the Indies to Goa, when the Portuguese were there, + offering vast treasures for the recovery of a monkey’s tooth, which + they held in great veneration, and which had been taken away upon the + conquest of the kingdom of Jafanapatan. + +Footnote 52: + + p. 35.—_To bend in worship_, LUCIFER _was right._ + + This resolution of Eblis not to acknowledge the new creature, man, + was, according to Mahometan tradition, thus adopted:—“The earth (which + God had selected for the materials of his work) was carried into + Arabia to a place between Mecca and Tayef, where, being first kneaded + by the angels, it was afterwards fashioned by God himself into a human + form, and left to dry for the space of forty days, or, as others say, + as many years; the angels, in the mean time, often visiting it, and + Eblis (then one of the angels nearest to God’s presence, afterwards + the devil) among the rest; but he, not contented with looking at it, + kicked it with his foot till it rung; and knowing God designed that + creature to be his superior, took a secret resolution never to + acknowledge him as such.”—_Sale_ on the Koran. + +Footnote 53: + + p. 36.—_From dead men’s marrow guides them best at night._ + + A kind of lantern formerly used by robbers, called the Hand of Glory, + the candle for which was made of the fat of a dead malefactor. This, + however, was rather a western than an eastern superstition. + +Footnote 54: + + p. 37.—_In that best marble of which Gods are made._ + + The material of which images of Gaudma (the Birman Deity) are made, is + held sacred. “Birmans may not purchase the marble in mass, but are + suffered, and indeed encouraged, to buy figures of the Deity ready + made.”—_Symes_’s Ava, vol. ii. p. 376. + +Footnote 55: + + p. 41.—_Of Kerzrah flowers, came fill’d with pestilence._ + + “It is commonly said in Persia, that if a man breathe in the hot south + wind, which in June or July passes over that flower (the Kerzereh), it + will kill him.”—_Thevenot._ + +Footnote 56: + + p. 44.—_Within the crocodile’s stretch’d jaws to come._ + + The humming-bird is said to run this risk for the purpose of picking + the crocodile’s teeth. The same circumstance is related of the + lapwing, as a fact to which he was witness, by _Paul Lucas_, Voyage + fait en 1714. + + The ancient story concerning the Trochilus, or humming-bird, entering + with impunity into the mouth of the crocodile, is firmly believed at + Java.—_Barrow_’s _Cochin-China._ + +Footnote 57: + + p. 46.—_That rank and venomous food on which she lives._ + + “Circum easdem ripas (Nili, viz.) ales est Ibis. Ea serpentium + populatur ova, gratissimamque ex his escam nidis suis + refert.”—_Solinus._ + +Footnote 58: + + p. 48.—_Yamtcheou._—“The feast of Lanterns is celebrated at Yamtcheou + with more magnificence than anywhere else: and the report goes, that + the illuminations there are so splendid, that an Emperor once, not + daring openly to leave his Court to go thither, committed himself with + the Queen and several Princesses of his family into the hands of a + magician, who promised to transport them thither in a trice. He made + them in the night to ascend magnificent thrones that were borne up by + swans, which in a moment arrived at Yamtcheou. The Emperor saw at his + leisure all the solemnity, being carried upon a cloud that hovered + over the city and descended by degrees; and came back again with the + same speed and equipage, nobody at court perceiving his absence.”—_The + present State of China_, p. 156. + +Footnote 59: + + p. 48.—_Sceneries of bamboo-work._—See a description of the nuptials + of Vizier Alee in the _Asiatic Annual Register of 1804_. + +Footnote 60: + + p. 49.—_Chinese illuminations._—“The vulgar ascribe it to an accident + that happened in the family of a famous mandarin, whose daughter + walking one evening upon the shore of a lake, fell in and was drowned; + this afflicted father, with his family, ran thither, and, the better + to find her, he caused a great company of lanterns to be lighted. All + the inhabitants of the place thronged after him with torches. The year + ensuing they made fires upon the shores the same day; they continued + the ceremony every year, every one lighted his lantern, and by degrees + it commenced into a custom.”—_Present State of China._ + +Footnote 61: + + p. 51.—_Like_ SEBA’S _Queen could vanquish with that one._ + + “Thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes.”—_Sol. Song._ + +Footnote 62: + + p. 51.—_The fingers’ ends with a bright roseate hue._ + + “They tinged the ends of her fingers scarlet with Henna, so that they + resembled branches of coral.”—_Story of Prince Futtun in Bahardanush._ + +Footnote 63: + + p. 51.—_To give that long, dark languish to the eye._ + + “The women blacken the inside of their eyelids with a powder named the + black Kohol.”—_Russel._ + + “None of these ladies,” says _Shaw_, “take themselves to be completely + dressed, till they have tinged the hair and edges of their eyelids + with the powder of lead ore. Now, as this operation is performed by + dipping first into the powder a small wooden bodkin of the thickness + of a quill, and then drawing it afterwards through the eyelids over + the ball of the eye, we shall have a lively image of what the Prophet + (Jer. iv. 30) may be supposed to mean by _rending the eyes with + painting_. This practice is no doubt of great antiquity; for besides + the instance already taken notice of, we find that where Jezebel is + said (2 Kings, ix. 30) _to have painted her face_, the original words + are, _she adjusted her eyes with the powder of lead ore_.”—_Shaw_’s + Travels. + +Footnote 64: + + p. 52.—_In her full lap the Champac’s leaves of gold._ + + The appearance of the blossoms of the gold-coloured Campac on the + black hair of the Indian women has supplied the Sanscrit Poets with + many elegant allusions.—See _Asiatic Researches_, vol. iv. + +Footnote 65: + + p. 52.—_The sweet Elcaya, and that courteous tree._ + + A tree famous for its perfume, and common on the hills of + Yemen.—_Niebuhr._ + +Footnote 66: + + p. 52.—_Which bows to all who seek its canopy._ + + Of the genus mimosa, “which droops its branches whenever any person + approaches it, seeming as if it saluted those who retire under its + shade.”—_Ibid._ + +Footnote 67: + + p. 53.—_The bowers of_ TIBET, _send forth odorous light._ + + “Cloves are a principal ingredient in the composition of the perfumed + rods, which men of rank keep constantly burning in their + presence.”—_Turner_’s Tibet. + +Footnote 68: + + p. 54.—_With odoriferous woods of_ COMORIN. + + “C’est d’où vient le bois d’aloès que les Arabes appellent Oud Comari, + et celui du sandal, qui s’y trouve en grande quantité.”—_D’Herbelot._ + +Footnote 69: + + p. 54.—_The crimson blossoms of the coral tree._ + + “Thousands of variegated loories visit the coral-trees.”—_Barrow._ + +Footnote 70: + + p. 54.—_Mecca’s blue sacred pigeon._ + + “In Mecca there are quantities of blue pigeons, which none will + affright or abuse, much less kill.”—_Pitt_’s Account of the + Mahometans. + +Footnote 71: + + p. 54.—_The thrush of Hindostan._ + + “The Pagoda Thrush is esteemed among the first choristers of India. It + sits perched on the sacred pagodas, and from thence delivers its + melodious song.”—_Pennant_’s Hindostan. + +Footnote 72: + + p. 55.—_About the gardens, drunk with that sweet food._ + + _Tavernier_ adds, that while the birds of Paradise lie in this + intoxicated state, the emmets come and eat off their legs; and that + hence it is they are said to have no feet. + +Footnote 73: + + p. 55.—_Whose scent hath lur’d them o’er the summer flood._ + + Birds of Paradise, which, at the nutmeg season, come in flights from + the southern isles to India; and “the strength of the nutmeg,” says + _Tavernier_, “so intoxicates them, that they fall dead drunk to the + earth.” + +Footnote 74: + + p. 55.—_Build their high nests of budding cinnamon._ + + “That bird which liveth in Arabia, and buildeth its nest with + cinnamon.”—_Brown_’s Vulgar Errors. + +Footnote 75: + + p. 55.—_Sleeping in light, like the green birds that dwell._ + + “The spirits of the martyrs will be lodged in the crops of green + birds.” _Gibbon_, vol. ix. p. 421. + +Footnote 76: + + p. 55.—_More like the luxuries of that impious King._ + + Shedad, who made the delicious gardens of Irim, in imitation of + Paradise, and was destroyed by lightning the first time he attempted + to enter them. + +Footnote 77: + + p. 57.—_In its blue blossoms hum themselves to sleep._ + + “My Pandits assure me that the plant before us (the Nilica) is their + Sephalica, thus named because the bees are supposed to sleep on its + blossoms.”—_Sir W. Jones._ + +Footnote 78: + + p. 59.—_As they were captives to the King of Flowers._ + + “They deferred it till the King of Flowers should ascend his throne of + enamelled foliage.”—_The Bahardanush._ + +Footnote 79: + + p. 60.—_But a light golden chain-work round her hair._ + + “One of the head-dresses of the Persian women is composed of a light + golden chain-work, set with small pearls, with a thin gold plate + pendant, about the bigness of a crown-piece, on which is impressed an + Arabian prayer, and which hangs upon the cheek below the + ear.”—_Hanway_’s Travels. + +Footnote 80: + + p. 60.—_Such as the maids of_ YEZD _and_ SHIRAS _wear._ + + “Certainly the women of Yezd are the handsomest women in Persia. The + proverb is, that to live happy a man must have a wife of Yezd, eat the + bread of Yezdecas, and drink the wine of Shiraz.”—_Tavernier._ + +Footnote 81: + + p. 61.—_Upon a musnud’s edge._ + + Musnuds are cushioned seats, usually reserved for persons of + distinction. + +Footnote 82: + + p. 61.—_In the pathetic mode of_ ISFAHAN. + + The Persians, like the ancient Greeks, call their musical modes or + Perdas by the names of different countries or cities, as the mode of + Isfahan, the mode of Irak, &c. + +Footnote 83: + + p. 61.—_There’s a bower of roses by_ BENDEMEER’S _stream._ + + A river which flows near the ruins of Chilminar. + +Footnote 84: + + p. 64.—_The hills of crystal on the Caspian shore._ + + “To the north of us (on the coast of the Caspian, near Badku) was a + mountain, which sparkled like diamonds, arising from the sea-glass and + crystals with which it abounds.”—_Journey of the Russian Ambassador to + Persia_, 1746. + +Footnote 85: + + p. 64.—_Of_ EDEN, _shake in the eternal breeze._ + + “To which will be added the sound of the bells, hanging on the trees, + which will be put in motion by the wind proceeding from the throne of + God, as often as the blessed wish for music.”—_Sale._ + +Footnote 86: + + p. 65.—_And his floating eyes—oh! they resemble._ + + “Whose wanton eyes resemble blue water-lilies, agitated by the + breeze.”—_Jayadeva._ + +Footnote 87: + + p. 65.—_Blue water-lilies._ + + The blue lotus, which grows in Cashmere and in Persia. + +Footnote 88: + + p. 67.—_To muse upon the pictures that hung round._ + + It has been generally supposed that the Mahometans prohibit all + pictures of animals; but _Toderini_ shows that, though the practice is + forbidden by the Koran, they are not more averse to painted figures + and images than other people. From Mr. Murphy’s work, too, we find + that the Arabs of Spain had no objection to the introduction of + figures into painting. + +Footnote 89: + + p. 67.—_Whose orb when half retir’d looks loveliest._ + + This is not quite astronomically true. “Dr. Hadley (says Keil) has + shown that Venus is brightest when she is about forty degrees removed + from the sun; and that then but _only a fourth part_ of her lucid disk + is to be seen from the earth.” + +Footnote 90: + + p. 67.—_He read that to be blest is to be wise._ + + For the loves of King Solomon (who was supposed to preside over the + whole race of Genii) with Balkis, the Queen of Sheba or Saba, see + _D’Herbelot_, and the _Notes on the Koran_, chap. 2. + + “In the palace which Solomon ordered to be built against the arrival + of the Queen of Saba, the floor or pavement was of transparent glass, + laid over running water, in which fish were swimming.” This led the + Queen into a very natural mistake, which the Koran has not thought + beneath its dignity to commemorate. “It was said unto her, ‘Enter the + palace.’ And when she saw it she imagined it to be a great water; and + she discovered her legs, by lifting up her robe to pass through it. + Whereupon Solomon said to her, ‘Verily, this is the place evenly + floored with glass.’”—Chap. 27. + +Footnote 91: + + p. 67.—_Here fond_ ZULEIKA _woos with open arms._ + + The wife of Potiphar, thus named by the Orientals. + + “The passion which this frail beauty of antiquity conceived for her + young Hebrew slave has given rise to a much-esteemed poem in the + Persian language, entitled _Yusef vau Zelikha_, by _Noureddin Jami_; + the manuscript copy of which, in the Bodleian Library at Oxford, is + supposed to be the finest in the whole world.”—_Note upon Nott’s + Translation of Hafez._ + +Footnote 92: + + p. 67.—_With a new text to consecrate their love._ + + The particulars of Mahomet’s amour with Mary, the Coptic girl, in + justification of which he added a new chapter to the Koran, may be + found in _Gagnier’s Notes upon Abulfeda_, p. 151. + +Footnote 93: + + p. 70.—_But in that deep-blue, melancholy dress._ + + “Deep blue is their mourning colour.”—_Hanway._ + +Footnote 94: + + p. 71.—_Sat in her sorrow like the sweet night-flower._ + + The sorrowful nyctanthes, which begins to spread its rich odour after + sunset. + +Footnote 95: + + p. 73.—_As the viper weaves its wily covering._ + + “Concerning the vipers, which Pliny says were frequent among the + balsam-trees, I made very particular inquiry: several were brought me + alive both to Yambo and Jidda.”—_Bruce._ + +Footnote 96: + + p. 81.—_The sunny apples of Istkahar._—“In the territory of Istkahar + there is a kind of apple, half of which is sweet and half sour.”—_Ebn + Haukal._ + +Footnote 97: + + p. 82.—_They saw a young Hindoo girl upon the bank._—For an account of + this ceremony, see _Grandpré_’s Voyage in the Indian Ocean. + +Footnote 98: + + p. 82.—_The Oton-tala, or Sea of Stars._—“The place where the Whangho, + a river of Tibet, rises, and where there are more than a hundred + springs, which sparkle like stars; whence it is called Hotun-nor, that + is, the Sea of Stars.”—_Description of Tibet in Pinkerton._ + +Footnote 99: + + p. 84.—_Hath sprung up here._ + + “The Lescar or Imperial Camp is divided, like a regular town, into + squares, alleys, and streets, and from a rising ground furnishes one + of the most agreeable prospects in the world. Starting up in a few + hours in an uninhabited plain, it raises the idea of a city built by + enchantment. Even those who leave their houses in cities to follow the + prince in his progress are frequently so charmed by the Lescar, when + situated in a beautiful and convenient place, that they cannot prevail + with themselves to remove. To prevent this inconvenience to the court, + the Emperor, after sufficient time is allowed to the tradesmen to + follow, orders them to be burnt out of their tents.”—_Dow_’s + Hindostan. + + Colonel Wilks gives a lively picture of an Eastern encampment:—“His + camp, like that of most Indian armies, exhibited a motley collection + of covers from the scorching sun and dews of the night, variegated + according to the taste or means of each individual, by extensive + inclosures of coloured calico surrounding superb suites of tents; by + ragged cloths or blankets stretched over sticks or branches; palm + leaves hastily spread over similar supports; handsome tents and + splendid canopies; horses, oxen, elephants, and camels; all intermixed + without any exterior mark of order or design, except the flags of the + chiefs, which usually mark the centres of a congeries of these masses; + the only regular part of the encampment being the streets of shops, + each of which is constructed nearly in the manner of a booth at an + English fair.”—_Historical Sketches of the South of India._ + +Footnote 100: + + p. 84.—_Built the high pillar’d halls of_ CHILMINAR. + + The edifices of Chilminar and Balbec are supposed to have been built + by the Genii, acting under the orders of Jan ben Jan, who governed the + world long before the time of Adam. + +Footnote 101: + + p. 85.—_And camels, tufted o’er with Yemen’s shells._ + + “A superb camel, ornamented with strings and tufts of small + shells.”—_Ali Bey._ + +Footnote 102: + + p. 85.—_But the far torrent, or the locust bird._ + + A native of Khorassan, and allured southward by means of the water of + a fountain between Shiraz and Ispahan, called the Fountain of Birds, + of which it is so fond that it will follow wherever that water is + carried. + +Footnote 103: + + p. 85.—_Of laden camels and their drivers’ songs._ + + “Some of the camels have bells about their necks, and some about their + legs, like those which our carriers put about their forehorses’ necks, + which together with the servants (who belong to the camels, and travel + on foot), singing all night, make a pleasant noise, and the journey + passes away delightfully.”—_Pitt_’s Account of the Mahometans. + + “The camel-driver follows the camels singing, and sometimes playing + upon his pipe; the louder he sings and pipes, the faster the camels + go. Nay, they will stand still when he gives over his + music.”—_Tavernier._ + +Footnote 104: + + p. 85.—_Of the’ Abyssinian trumpet, swell and float._ + + “This trumpet is often called, in Abyssinia, _nesser cano_, which + signifies the Note of the Eagle.”—_Note of Bruce’s Editor._ + +Footnote 105: + + p. 85.—_The Night and Shadow, over yonder tent._ + + The two black standards borne before the Caliphs of the House of Abbas + were called, allegorically, The Night and The Shadow.—See _Gibbon_. + +Footnote 106: + + p. 86.—_Defiance fierce at Islam._—The Mahometan religion. + +Footnote 107: + + p. 86.—_But, having sworn upon the Holy Grave._ + + “The Persians swear by the tomb of Shah Besade, who is buried at + Casbin; and when one desires another to asseverate a matter, he will + ask him, if he dare swear by the Holy Grave.”—_Struy._ + +Footnote 108: + + p. 86.—_Were spoil’d to feed the Pilgrim’s luxury._ + + Mahadi, in a single pilgrimage to Mecca, expended six millions of + dinars of gold. + +Footnote 109: + + p. 86.—_Of_ MECCA’S _sun, with urns of Persian snow._ + + “Nivem Meccam apportavit, rem ibi aut nunquam aut raro + visam.”—_Abulfeda._ + +Footnote 110: + + p. 86.—_First, in the van, the People of the Rock._ + + The inhabitants of Hejaz or Arabia Petræa, called by an Eastern writer + “The People of the Rock.”—See _Ebn Haukal_. + +Footnote 111: + + p. 86.—_On their light mountain steeds, of royal stock._ + + “Those horses, called by the Arabians Kochlani, of whom a written + genealogy has been kept for 2,000 years. They are said to derive their + origin from King Solomon’s steeds.”—_Niebuhr._ + +Footnote 112: + + p. 87.—_The flashing of their swords’ rich marquetry._ + + “Many of the figures on the blades of their swords are wrought in gold + or silver, or in marquetry with small gems.”—_Asiat. Misc._ v. i. + +Footnote 113: + + p. 87.—_With dusky legions from the land of Myrrh._ + + Azab or Saba. + +Footnote 114: + + p. 87.—_Waving their heron crests with martial grace._ + + “The chiefs of the Uzbek Tartars wear a plume of white heron’s + feathers in their turbans.”—_Account of Independent Tartary._ + +Footnote 115: + + p. 87.—_Wild warriors of the turquoise hills._ + + “In the mountains of Nishapour and Tous (in Khorassan) they find + turquoises.”—_Ebn Haukal._ + +Footnote 116: + + p. 87.—_Of_ HINDOO KOSH, _in stormy freedom bred._ + + For a description of these stupendous ranges of mountains, see + _Elphinstone’s Caubul_. + +Footnote 117: + + p. 88.—_Her Worshippers of Fire._ + + The Ghebers or Guebres, those original natives of Persia, who adhered + to their ancient faith, the religion of Zoroaster, and who, after the + conquest of their country by the Arabs, were either persecuted at + home, or forced to become wanderers abroad. + +Footnote 118: + + p. 88.—_From_ YEZD’S _eternal Mansion of the Fire._ + + “Yezd, the chief residence of those ancient natives, who worship the + Sun and the Fire, which latter they have carefully kept lighted, + without being once extinguished for a moment, about 3,000 years, on a + mountain near Yezd, called Ater Quedah, signifying the House or + Mansion of the Fire. He is reckoned very unfortunate who dies off that + mountain.”—_Stephen_’s Persia. + +Footnote 119: + + p. 88.—_That burn into the_ CASPIAN, _fierce they came._ + + “When the weather is hazy, the springs of Naphtha (on an island near + Baku) boil up the higher, and the Naphtha often takes fire on the + surface of the earth, and runs in a flame into the sea to a distance + almost incredible.”—_Hanway on the Everlasting Fire at Baku._ + +Footnote 120: + + p. 88.—_By which the prostrate Caravan is aw’d._ + + _Savary_ says of the south wind, which blows in Egypt from February to + May, “Sometimes it appears only in the shape of an impetuous + whirlwind, which passes rapidly, and is fatal to the traveller + surprised in the middle of the deserts. Torrents of burning sand roll + before it, the firmament is enveloped in a thick veil, and the sun + appears of the colour of blood. Sometimes whole caravans are buried in + it.” + +Footnote 121: + + p. 89.—_The Champions of the Faith through_ BEDER’S _vale._ + + In the great victory gained by Mahomed at Beder, he was assisted, say + the Mussulmans, by three thousand angels, led by Gabriel, mounted on + his horse Hiazum.—See _The Koran and its Commentators_. + +Footnote 122: + + p. 92.—“_Alla Akbar!_” + + The Tecbir, or cry of the Arabs. “Alla Acbar!” says Ockley, means “God + is most mighty.” + +Footnote 123: + + p. 92.—_And light your shrines and chaunt your ziraleets._ + + The ziraleet is a kind of chorus, which the women of the East sing + upon joyful occasions.—_Russel._ + +Footnote 124: + + p. 92.—_Or warm or brighten,—like that Syrian Lake._ + + The Dead Sea, which contains neither animal nor vegetable life. + +Footnote 125: + + p. 95.—_O’er his lost throne—then pass’d the_ JIHON’S _flood._ + + The ancient Oxus. + +Footnote 126: + + p. 95.—_Rais’d the white banner within_ NEKSHEB’S _gates._ + + A city of Transoxiana. + +Footnote 127: + + p. 95.—_To-day’s young flower is springing in its stead._ + + “You never can cast your eyes on this tree, but you meet there either + blossoms or fruit; and as the blossom drops underneath on the ground + (which is frequently covered with these purple-coloured flowers), + others come forth in their stead,” &c. &c.—_Nieuhoff._ + +Footnote 128: + + p. 96.—_With which the Dives have gifted him._ + + The Demons of the Persian mythology. + +Footnote 129: + + p. 96.—_That spangle_ INDIA’S _fields on showery nights._ + + Carreri mentions the fire-flies in India during the rainy season.—See + his Travels. + +Footnote 130: + + p. 96.—_Who brush’d the thousands of the’ Assyrian King._ + + Sennacherib, called by the Orientals King of Moussal.—_D’Herbelot._ + +Footnote 131: + + p. 97.—_Of_ PARVIZ. + + Chosroes. For the description of his Throne or Palace, see _Gibbon_ + and _D’Herbelot._ + + There were said to be under this Throne or Palace of Khosrou Parviz a + hundred vaults filled with “treasures so immense that some Mahometan + writers tell us, their Prophet, to encourage his disciples, carried + them to a rock, which at his command opened, and gave them a prospect + through it of the treasures of Khosrou.”—_Universal History._ + +Footnote 132: + + p. 97.—_And the heron crest that shone._ + + “The crown of Gerashid is cloudy and tarnished before the heron tuft + of thy turban.”—From one of the elegies or songs in praise of Ali, + written in characters of gold round the gallery of Abbas’s tomb.—See + _Chardin_. + +Footnote 133: + + p. 97.—_Magnificent, o’er_ ALI’S _beauteous eyes._ + + The beauty of Ali’s eyes was so remarkable, that whenever the Persians + would describe any thing as very lovely, they say it is Ayn Hali, or + the Eyes of Ali.—_Chardin._ + +Footnote 134: + + p. 98.—_Rise from the Holy Well, and cast its light._ + + We are not told more of this trick of the Impostor, than that it was + “une machine, qu’il disoit être la Lune.” According to Richardson, the + miracle is perpetuated in Nekscheb.—“Nakshab, the name of a city in + Transoxiana, where they say there is a well, in which the appearance + of the moon is to be seen night and day.” + +Footnote 135: + + p. 98.—_Round the rich city and the plain for miles._ + + “Il amusa pendant deux mois le peuple de la ville de Nekhscheb, en + faisant sortir toutes les nuits du fond d’un puits un corps lumineux + semblable à la Lune, qui portoit sa lumière jusqu’à la distance de + plusieurs milles.”—_D’Herbelot._ Hence he was called Sazendéhmah, or + the Moon-maker. + +Footnote 136: + + p. 99.—_Had rested on the Ark._ + + The Shechinah, called Sakînat in the Koran.—See _Sale’s Note_, chap. + ii. + +Footnote 137: + + p. 99.—_Of the small drum with which they count the night._ + + The parts of the night are made known as well by instruments of music, + as by the rounds of the watchmen with cries and small drums.—See + _Burder’s Oriental Customs_, vol. i. p. 119. + +Footnote 138: + + p. 99.—_On for the lamps, that light yon lofty screen._ + + The Serrapurda, high screens of red cloth, stiffened with cane, used + to enclose a considerable space round the royal tents.—_Notes on the + Bahardanush._ + + The tents of Princes were generally illuminated. Norden tells us that + the tent of the Bey of Girge was distinguished from the other tents by + forty lanterns being suspended before it.—See _Harmer’s Observations + on Job_. + +Footnote 139: + + p. 100.—_Pour to the spot, like bees of_ KAUZEROON. + + “From the groves of orange trees at Kauzeroon the bees cull a + celebrated honey.”—_Morier_’s Travels. + +Footnote 140: + + p. 102.—_Of nuptial pomp, she sinks into his tide._ + + “A custom still subsisting at this day, seems to me to prove that the + Egyptians formerly sacrificed a young virgin to the God of the Nile; + for they now make a statue of earth in shape of a girl, to which they + give the name of the Betrothed Bride, and throw it into the + river.”—_Savary._ + +Footnote 141: + + p. 103.—_Engines of havoc in, unknown before._ + + That they knew the secret of the Greek fire among the Mussulmans early + in the eleventh century, appears from _Dow_’s Account of Mamood I. + “When he arrived at Moultan, finding that the country of the Jits was + defended by great rivers, he ordered fifteen hundred boats to be + built, each of which he armed with six iron spikes, projecting from + their prows and sides, to prevent their being boarded by the enemy, + who were very expert in that kind of war. When he had launched this + fleet, he ordered twenty archers into each boat, and five others with + fire-balls, to burn the craft of the Jits, and naphtha to set the + whole river on fire.” + + The _agnee aster_, too, in Indian poems the Instrument of fire, whose + flame cannot be extinguished, is supposed to signify the Greek + Fire.—See _Wilks_’s South of India, vol. i. p. 471.—And in the curious + Javan Poem, the _Brata Yudha_, given by _Sir Stamford Raffles_ in his + History of Java, we find, “He aimed at the heart of Soéta with the + sharp-pointed Weapon of Fire.” + + The mention of gunpowder as in use among the Arabians, long before its + supposed discovery in Europe, is introduced by _Ebn Fadhl_, the + Egyptian geographer, who lived in the thirteenth century. “Bodies,” he + says, “in the form of scorpions, bound round and filled with nitrous + powder, glide along, making a gentle noise; then, exploding, they + lighten, as it were, and burn. But there are others which, cast into + the air, stretch along like a cloud, roaring horribly, as thunder + roars, and on all sides vomiting out flames, burst, burn, and reduce + to cinders whatever comes in their way.” The historian _Ben Abdalla_, + in speaking of the sieges of Abulualid in the year of the Hegira 712, + says, “A fiery globe, by means of combustible matter, with a mighty + noise suddenly emitted, strikes with the force of lightning, and + shakes the citadel.”—See the Extracts from _Casiri_’s Biblioth. Arab. + Hispan. in the Appendix to _Berington_’s Literary History of the + Middle Ages. + +Footnote 142: + + p. 103.—_And horrible as new;—javelins that fly._ + + The Greek fire, which was occasionally lent by the emperors to their + allies. “It was,” says Gibbon, “either launched in red hot balls of + stone and iron, or darted in arrows or javelins, twisted round with + flax and tow, which had deeply imbibed the inflammable oil.” + +Footnote 143: + + p. 103.—_Discharge, as from a kindled Naphtha fount._ + + See _Hanway_’s Account of the Springs of Naphtha at Baku (which is + called by _Lieutenant Pottinger_ Joala Mokee, or, the Flaming Mouth) + taking fire and running into the sea. _Dr. Cooke_, in his Journal, + mentions some wells in Circassia, strongly impregnated with this + inflammable oil, from which issues boiling water. “Though the + weather,” he adds, “was now very cold, the warmth of these wells of + hot water produced near them the verdure and flowers of spring.” + + _Major Scott Waring_ says, that naphtha is used by the Persians, as we + are told it was in hell, for lamps. + + ... many a row + Of starry lamps and blazing cressets, fed + With naphtha and asphaltus, yielding light + As from a sky. + +Footnote 144: + + p. 104.—_Like those wild birds that by the Magians oft._ + + “At the great festival of fire, called the Sheb Sezê, they used to set + fire to large bunches of dry combustibles, fastened round wild beasts + and birds, which being then let loose, the air and earth appeared one + great illumination; and as these terrified creatures naturally fled to + the woods for shelter, it is easy to conceive the conflagrations they + produced.”—_Richardson_’s Dissertation. + +Footnote 145: + + p. 106.—_Keep, seal’d with precious musk, for those they love._ + + “The righteous shall be given to drink of pure wine, sealed; the seal + whereof shall be musk.”—_Koran_, chap. lxxxiii. + +Footnote 146: + + p. 110.—_On its own brood;—no Demon of the Waste._ + + “The Afghauns believe each of the numerous solitudes and deserts of + their country to be inhabited by a lonely demon, whom they call the + Ghoolee Beeabau, or Spirit of the Waste. They often illustrate the + wildness of any sequestered tribe, by saying, they are wild as the + Demon of the Waste.”—_Elphinstone_’s Caubul. + +Footnote 147: + + p. 111.—_With burning drugs, for this last hour distill’d._ + + “Il donna du poison dans le vin à tous ses gens, et se jetta lui-même + ensuite dans une cuve pleine de drogues brûlantes et consumantes, afin + qu’il ne restât rien de tous les membres de son corps, et que ceux qui + restoient de sa secte puissent croire qu’il étoit monté au ciel, ce + qui ne manqua pas d’arriver.”—_D’Herbelot._ + +Footnote 148: + + p. 113.—_In the lone Cities of the Silent dwell._ + + “They have all a great reverence for burial-grounds, which they + sometimes call by the poetical name of Cities of the Silent, and which + they people with the ghosts of the departed, who sit each at the head + of his own grave, invisible to mortal eyes.”—_Elphinstone._ + +Footnote 149: + + p. 120.—_And to eat any mangoes but those of Mazagong was, of course, + impossible._—“The celebrity of Mazagong is owing to its mangoes, which + are certainly the best fruit I ever tasted. The parent-tree, from + which all those of this species have been grafted, is honoured during + the fruit-season by a guard of sepoys; and, in the reign of Shah + Jehan, couriers were stationed between Delhi and the Mahratta coast to + secure an abundant and fresh supply of mangoes for the royal + table.”—_Mrs. Graham_’s Journal of a Residence in India. + +Footnote 150: + + p. 120.—_Laden with his fine antique porcelain._—This old porcelain is + found in digging, and “if it is esteemed, it is not because it has + acquired any new degree of beauty in the earth, but because it has + retained its ancient beauty; and this alone is of great importance in + China, where they give large sums for the smallest vessels which were + used under the Emperors Yan and Chun, who reigned many ages before the + dynasty of Tang, at which time porcelain began to be used by the + Emperors” (about the year 442).—_Dunn_’s Collection of curious + Observations, &c.;—a bad translation of some parts of the Lettres + Edifiantes et Curieuses of the Missionary Jesuits. + +Footnote 151: + + p. 122.—_And if Nasser, the Arabian merchant, told no better._—“La + lecture de ces Fables plaisoit si fort aux Arabes, que, quand Mahomet + les entretenoit de l’Histoire de l’Ancien Testament, ils les + méprisoient, lui disant que celles que Nasser leur racontoit étoient + beaucoup plus belles. Cette préférence attira à Nasser la malédiction + de Mahomet et de tous ses disciples.”—_D’Herbelot._ + +Footnote 152: + + p. 122.—_Like the blacksmith’s apron converted into a banner._—The + blacksmith Gao, who successfully resisted the tyrant Zohak, and whose + apron became the Royal Standard of Persia. + +Footnote 153: + + p. 125.—_That sublime bird, which flies always in the air, and never + touches the earth._—“The Huma, a bird peculiar to the East. It is + supposed to fly constantly in the air, and never touch the ground: it + is looked upon as a bird of happy omen; and that every head it + overshades will in time wear a crown.”—_Richardson._ + + In the terms of alliance made by Fuzzel Oola Khan with Hyder in 1760, + one of the stipulations was, “that he should have the distinction of + two honorary attendants standing behind him, holding fans composed of + the feathers of the Humma, according to the practice of his + family.”—_Wilk_’s South of India. He adds in a note:—“The Humma is a + fabulous bird. The head over which its shadow once passes will + assuredly be circled with a crown. The splendid little bird suspended + over the throne of Tippoo Sultaun, found at Seringapatam in 1799, was + intended to represent this poetical fancy.” + +Footnote 154: + + p. 125.—_Like those on the Written Mountain, last for ever._—“To the + pilgrims to Mount Sinai we must attribute the inscriptions, figures, + &c. on those rocks, which have from thence acquired the name of the + Written Mountain.”—_Volney._ M. Gebelin and others have been at much + pains to attach some mysterious and important meaning to these + inscriptions; but Niebuhr, as well as Volney, thinks that they must + have been executed at idle hours by the travellers to Mount Sinai, + “who were satisfied with cutting the unpolished rock with any pointed + instrument; adding to their names and the date of their journeys some + rude figures which bespeak the hand of a people but little skilled in + the arts.”—_Niebuhr._ + +Footnote 155: + + p. 125.—_Like the old Man of the Sea, upon his back._—The Story of + Sinbad. + +Footnote 156: + + p. 126.—_To which Hafez compares his mistress’s hair._—See _Nott_’s + Hafez, Ode v. + +Footnote 157: + + p. 126.—_To the Cámalatá, by whose rosy blossoms the heaven of Indra + is scented._—“The Cámalatá (called by Linnæus, Ipomæa) is the most + beautiful of its order, both in the colour and form of its leaves and + flowers; its elegant blossoms are ‘celestial rosy red, Love’s proper + hue,’ and have justly procured it the name of Cámalatá, or Love’s + Creeper.”—_Sir W. Jones._ + + “Cámalatá may also mean a mythological plant, by which all desires are + granted to such as inhabit the heaven of Indra; and if ever flower was + worthy of paradise, it is our charming Ipomæa”—_Sir W. Jones._ + +Footnote 158: + + p. 126.—_That flower-loving Nymph whom they worship in the temples of + Kathay._—“According to Father Premare, in his tract on Chinese + Mythology, the mother of Fo-hi was the daughter of heaven, surnamed + Flower-loving; and as the nymph was walking alone on the bank of a + river, she found herself encircled by a rainbow, after which she + became pregnant, and, at the end of twelve years, was delivered of a + son radiant as herself.”—_Asiat. Res._ + +Footnote 159: + + p. 130.—_With its plane-tree Isle reflected clear._ + + “Numerous small islands emerge from the Lake of Cashmere. One is + called Char Chenaur, from the plane-trees upon it.”—_Foster._ + +Footnote 160: + + p. 130.—_And the golden floods that thitherward stray._ + + “The Altan Kol or Golden River of Tibet, which runs into the Lakes of + Sing-su-hay, has abundance of gold in its sands, which employs the + inhabitants all the summer in gathering it.”—_Description of Tibet in + Pinkerton._ + +Footnote 161: + + p. 131.—_Blooms nowhere but in Paradise._ + + “The Brahmins of this province insist that the blue campac flowers + only in Paradise.”—_Sir W. Jones._ It appears, however, from a curious + letter of the sultan of Menangcabow, given by Marsden, that one place + on earth may lay claim to the possession of it. “This is the Sultan, + who keeps the flower champaka that is blue, and to be found in no + other country but his, being yellow elsewhere.”—_Marsden_’s Sumatra. + +Footnote 162: + + p. 131.—_Flung at night from angel hands._ + + “The Mahometans suppose that falling stars are the firebrands + wherewith the good angels drive away the bad, when they approach too + near the empyrean or verge of the heavens.”—_Fryer._ + +Footnote 163: + + p. 132.—_Beneath the pillars of_ CHILMINAR. + + The Forty Pillars; so the Persians call the ruins of Persepolis. It is + imagined by them that this palace and the edifices at Balbec were + built by Genii, for the purpose of hiding in their subterraneous + caverns immense treasures, which still remain there.—See _D’Herbelot_ + and _Volney._ + +Footnote 164: + + p. 132.—_To the south of sun-bright Araby._—The Isles of Panchaia. + + _Diodorus_ mentions the Isle of Panchaia, to the south of Arabia + Felix, where there was a temple of Jupiter. This island, or rather + cluster of isles, has disappeared, “sunk (says _Grandpré_) in the + abyss made by the fire beneath their foundations.”—_Voyage to the + Indian Ocean._ + +Footnote 165: + + p. 132.—_The jewell’d cup of their King Jamshid._ + + “The cup of Jamshid, discovered, they say, when digging for the + foundations of Persepolis.”—_Richardson._ + +Footnote 166: + + p. 132.—_O’er coral rocks, and amber beds._ + + “It is not like the Sea of India, whose bottom is rich with pearls and + ambergris, whose mountains of the coast are stored with gold and + precious stones, whose gulfs breed creatures that yield ivory, and + among the plants of whose shores are ebony, red wood, and the wood of + Hairzan, aloes, camphor, cloves, sandal-wood, and all other spices and + aromatics: where parrots and peacocks are birds of the forest, and + musk and civet are collected upon the lands.”—_Travels of Two + Mohammedans._ + +Footnote 167: + + p. 133.—_Thy Pagods and thy pillar’d shades._ + + ... “in the ground + The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow + About the mother-tree, _a pillar’d shade_, + High over-arch’d, and echoing walks between.”—MILTON. + + For a particular description and plate of the Banyan-tree, see + _Cordiner_’s Ceylon. + +Footnote 168: + + p. 133.—_Thy Monarchs and their thousand Thrones._ + + “With this immense treasure Mamood returned to Ghizni, and in the year + 400 prepared a magnificent festival, where he displayed to the people + his wealth in golden thrones and in other ornaments, in a great plain + without the city of Ghizni.”—_Ferishta._ + +Footnote 169: + + p. 133.—_’Tis He of Gazna—fierce in wrath._ + + “Mahmood of Gazna, or Ghizni, who conquered India in the beginning of + the 11th century.”—See his History in _Dow_ and _Sir J. Malcolm_. + +Footnote 170: + + p. 133.—_Of many a young and lov’d Sultana._ + + “It is reported that the hunting equipage of the Sultan Mahmood was so + magnificent, that he kept 400 greyhounds and bloodhounds, each of + which wore a collar set with jewels, and a covering edged with gold + and pearls.”—_Universal History_, vol. iii. + +Footnote 171: + + p. 134.—_For Liberty shed, so holy is._ + + Objections may be made to my use of the word Liberty in this, and more + especially in the story that follows it, as totally inapplicable to + any state of things that has ever existed in the East; but though I + cannot, of course, mean to employ it in that enlarged and noble sense + which is so well understood at the present day, and, I grieve to say, + so little acted upon, yet it is no disparagement to the word to apply + it to that national independence, that freedom from the interference + and dictation of foreigners, without which, indeed, no liberty of any + kind can exist; and for which both Hindoos and Persians fought against + their Mussulman invaders with, in many cases, a bravery that deserved + much better success. + +Footnote 172: + + p. 136.—_Now among_ AFRIC’S _lunar Mountains._ + + “The Mountains of the Moon, or the Montes Lunæ of antiquity, at the + foot of which the Nile is supposed to rise.”—_Bruce._ + + “Sometimes called,” says _Jackson_, “Jibbel Kumrie, or the white or + lunar-coloured mountains; so a white horse is called by the Arabians a + moon-coloured horse.” + +Footnote 173: + + p. 136.—_And hail the new-born Giant’s smile._ + + “The Nile, which the Abyssinians know by the names of Abey and Alawy, + or the Giant.”—_Asiat. Research._ vol. i. p. 387. + +Footnote 174: + + p. 136.—_Her grots, and sepulchres of Kings._ + + See Perry’s View of the Levant for an account of the sepulchres in + Upper Thebes, and the numberless grots, covered all over with + hieroglyphics in the mountains of Upper Egypt. + +Footnote 175: + + p. 136.—_In warm_ ROSETTA’S _vale—now loves._ + + “The orchards of Rosetta are filled with turtle-doves.”—_Sonnini._ + +Footnote 176: + + p. 136.—_The azure calm of_ MŒRIS’ _Lake._ + + Savary mentions the pelicans upon Lake Mœris. + +Footnote 177: + + p. 137.—_Warns them to their silken beds._ + + “The superb date-tree, whose head languidly reclines, like that of a + handsome woman overcome with sleep.”—_Dafard el Hadad._ + +Footnote 178: + + p. 137.—_Some purple-wing’d Sultana sitting._ + + “That beautiful bird, with plumage of the finest shining blue, with + purple beak and legs, the natural and living ornament of the temples + and palaces of the Greeks and Romans, which, from the stateliness of + its port, as well as the brilliancy of its colours, has obtained the + title of Sultana.”—_Sonnini._ + +Footnote 179: + + p. 138.—_Only the fierce hyæna stalks._ + + Jackson, speaking of the plague that occurred in West Barbary, when he + was there, says, “The birds of the air fled away from the abodes of + men. The hyænas, on the contrary, visited the cemeteries,” &c. + +Footnote 180: + + p. 138.—_Throughout the city’s desolate walks._ + + “Gondar was full of hyænas from the time it turned dark till the dawn + of day, seeking the different pieces of slaughtered carcasses, which + this cruel and unclean people expose in the streets without burial, + and who firmly believe that these animals are Falashta from the + neighbouring mountains, transformed by magic, and come down to eat + human flesh in the dark in safety.”—_Bruce._ + +Footnote 181: + + p. 138.—_The glaring of those large blue eyes._—Bruce. + +Footnote 182: + + p. 140.—_But see—who yonder comes by stealth._ + + This circumstance has been often introduced into poetry;—by Vincentius + Fabricius, by Darwin, and lately, with very powerful effect, by Mr. + Wilson. + +Footnote 183: + + p. 142.—_Who sings at the last his own death-lay._ + + “In the East, they suppose the Phœnix to have fifty orifices in his + bill, which are continued to his tail; and that, after living one + thousand years, he builds himself a funeral pile, sings a melodious + air of different harmonies through his fifty organ pipes, flaps his + wings with a velocity which sets fire to the wood, and consumes + himself.”—_Richardson._ + +Footnote 184: + + p. 144.—_Their first sweet draught of glory take._ + + “On the shores of a quadrangular lake stand a thousand goblets, made + of stars, out of which souls predestined to enjoy felicity drink the + crystal wave.”—From _Châteaubriand_’s Description of the Mahometan + Paradise, in his _Beauties of Christianity_. + +Footnote 185: + + p. 145.—_Now, upon_ SYRIA’S _land of roses._ + + Richardson thinks that Syria had its name from Suri, a beautiful and + delicate species of rose, for which that country has been always + famous;—hence, Suristan, the Land of Roses. + +Footnote 186: + + p. 145.—_Gay lizards, glittering on the walls._ + + “The number of lizards I saw one day in the great court of the Temple + of the Sun at Balbec amounted to many thousands; the ground, the + walls, and stones of the ruined buildings, were covered with + them.”—_Bruce._ + +Footnote 187: + + p. 146.—_Of shepherd’s ancient reed._ + + “The Syrinx, or Pan’s pipe, is still a pastoral instrument in + Syria.”—_Russel._ + +Footnote 188: + + p. 146.—_Of the wild bees of_ PALESTINE. + + “Wild bees, frequent in Palestine, in hollow trunks or branches of + trees, and the clefts of rocks. Thus it is said (Psalm lxxxi.), + ‘_honey out of the stony rock_.’”—_Burder_’s Oriental Customs. + +Footnote 189: + + p. 146.—_And woods, so full of nightingales._ + + “The river Jordan is on both sides beset with little, thick, and + pleasant woods, among which thousands of nightingales warble all + together.”—_Thevenot._ + +Footnote 190: + + p. 146.—_On that great Temple, once his own._ + + The Temple of the Sun at Balbec. + +Footnote 191: + + p. 147.—_The beautiful blue damsel flies._ + + “You behold there a considerable number of a remarkable species of + beautiful insects, the elegance of whose appearance and their attire + procured for them the name of Damsels.”—_Sonnini._ + +Footnote 192: + + p. 147.—_Of a small imaret’s rustic fount._ + + Imaret, “hospice où on loge et nourrit, gratis, les pélerins pendant + trois jours.”—_Toderini, translated by the Abbé de Cournand._—See also + _Castellan_’s Mœurs des Othomans, tom. v. p. 145. + +Footnote 193: + + p. 149.—_Kneels, with his forehead to the south._ + + “Such Turks, as at the common hours of prayer are on the road, or so + employed as not to find convenience to attend the mosques, are still + obliged to execute that duty; nor are they ever known to fail, + whatever business they are then about, but pray immediately when the + hour alarms them, whatever they are about, in that very place they + chance to stand on; insomuch that when a janissary, whom you have to + guard you up and down the city, hears the notice which is given him + from the steeples, he will turn about, stand still, and beckon with + his hand, to tell his charge he must have patience for awhile; when, + taking out his handkerchief, he spreads it on the ground, sits + cross-legged thereupon, and says his prayers, though in the open + market, which, having ended, he leaps briskly up, salutes the person + whom he undertook to convey, and renews his journey with the mild + expression of _Ghell gohnnum ghell_, or, Come, dear, follow + me.”—_Aaron Hill_’s Travels. + +Footnote 194: + + p. 151.—_Upon_ EGYPT’S _land, of so healing a power._ + + The Nucta, or Miraculous Drop, which falls in Egypt precisely on St. + John’s Day, in June, and is supposed to have the effect of stopping + the plague. + +Footnote 195: + + p. 153.—_Are the diamond turrets of_ SHADUKIAM. + + The Country of Delight—the name of a province in the kingdom of + Jinnistan, or Fairy Land, the capital of which is called the City of + Jewels. Amberabad is another of the cities of Jinnistan. + +Footnote 196: + + p. 153.—_My feast is now of the Tooba Tree._ + + The tree Tooba, that stands in Paradise, in the palace of Mahomet. See + _Sale’s Prelim. Disc._—Tooba, says _D’Herbelot_, signifies beatitude, + or eternal happiness. + +Footnote 197: + + p. 154.—_To the lote-tree, springing by_ ALLA’S _throne._ + + Mahomet is described, in the 53d chapter of the Koran, as having seen + the Angel Gabriel “by the lote-tree, beyond which there is no passing: + near it is the Garden of Eternal Abode.” This tree, say the + commentators, stands in the seventh Heaven, on the right hand of the + Throne of God. + +Footnote 198: + + p. 155.—_As the hundred and twenty thousand Streams of Basra._—“It is + said that the rivers or streams of Basra were reckoned in the time of + Pelal ben Abi Bordeh, and amounted to the number of one hundred and + twenty thousand streams.”—_Ebn Haukal._ + +Footnote 199: + + p. 155.—_Who, like them, flung the jereed carelessly._—The name of the + javelin with which the Easterns exercise. See _Castellan, Mœurs des + Othomans_, tom. iii. p. 161. + +Footnote 200: + + p. 156.—_The Banyan Hospital._—“This account excited a desire of + visiting the Banyan Hospital, as I had heard much of their benevolence + to all kinds of animals that were either sick, lame, or infirm, + through age or accident. On my arrival, there were presented to my + view many horses, cows, and oxen, in one apartment; in another, dogs, + sheep, goats, and monkeys, with clean straw for them to repose on. + Above stairs were depositories for seeds of many sorts, and flat, + broad dishes for water, for the use of birds and insects.”—_Parson_’s + Travels. + + It is said that all animals know the Banyans, that the most timid + approach them, and that birds will fly nearer to them than to other + people.—See _Grandpré_. + +Footnote 201: + + p. 157.—_Like that of the fragrant grass near the Ganges._—“A very + fragrant grass from the banks of the Ganges, near Heridwar, which in + some places covers whole acres, and diffuses, when crushed, a strong + odour.”—_Sir W. Jones_, on the Spikenard of the Ancients. + +Footnote 202: + + p. 157.—_No one had ever yet reached its summit._—“Near this is a + curious hill, called Koh Talism, the Mountain of the Talisman, + because, according to the traditions of the country, no person ever + succeeded in gaining its summit.”—_Kinneir._ + +Footnote 203: + + p. 158.—_Is warmed into life by the eyes alone._—“The Arabians believe + that the ostriches hatch their young by only looking at them.”—_P. + Vanslebe, Rélat. d’Egypte._ + +Footnote 204: + + p. 159.—_And then lost them again for ever._—See _Sale_’s Koran, note, + vol. ii. p. 484. + +Footnote 205: + + p. 159.—_While the artisans in chariots._—Oriental Tales. + +Footnote 206: + + p. 160.—_Who kept waving over their heads plates of gold and silver + flowers._—Ferishta. “Or rather,” says _Scott_, upon the passage of + Ferishta, from which this is taken, “small coins, stamped with the + figure of a flower. They are still used in India to distribute in + charity, and, on occasion, thrown by the purse-bearers of the great + among the populace.” + +Footnote 207: + + p. 160.—_Alley of trees._—The fine road made by the emperor + Jehan-Guire from Agra to Lahore, planted with trees on each side. This + road is 250 leagues in length. It has “little pyramids or turrets,” + says _Fernier_, “erected every half league, to mark the ways, and + frequent wells to afford drink to passengers, and to water the young + trees.” + +Footnote 208: + + p. 162.—_That favourite tree of the luxurious bird that lights up the + chambers of its nest with fire-flies._—The Baya, or Indian + Gross-beak.—_Sir W. Jones._ + +Footnote 209: + + p. 162.—_On the clear cold waters of which floated multitudes of the + beautiful red lotus._—“Here is a large pagoda by a tank, on the water + of which float multitudes of the beautiful red lotus; the flower is + larger than that of the white water-lily, and is the most lovely of + the nymphæas I have seen.”—_Mrs. Graham_’s Journal of a Residence in + India. + +Footnote 210: + + p. 163.—_Had fled hither from their Arab conquerors._—“On les voit + persécutés par les Khalifes se retirer dans les montagnes du Kerman: + plusieurs choisirent pour retraite la Tartarie et la Chine; d’autres + s’arrêtè-rent sur les bords du Gange, à l’est de Delhi.”—_M. + Anquetil_, Mémoires de l’Académie, tom. xxxi. p. 346. + +Footnote 211: + + p. 163.—_Like their own Fire in the Burning Field at Bakou._—The “Ager + ardens” described by _Kæmpfer, Amœnitat. Exot._ + +Footnote 212: + + p. 164.—_The prey of strangers._—“Cashmere (says its historians) had + its own princes 4000 years before its conquest by Akbar in 1585. Akbar + would have found some difficulty to reduce this paradise of the + Indies, situated as it is within such a fortress of mountains, but its + monarch, Yusef-Khan, was basely betrayed by his Omrahs.”—_Pennant._ + +Footnote 213: + + p. 164.—_Fire-worshippers._—Voltaire tells us that in his Tragedy, + “Les Guèbres,” he was generally supposed to have alluded to the + Jansenists. I should not be surprised if this story of the + Fire-worshippers were found capable of a similar doubleness of + application. + +Footnote 214: + + p. 169.—_’Tis moonlight over_ OMAN’S _sea._ + + The Persian Gulf, sometimes so called, which separates the shores of + Persia and Arabia. + +Footnote 215: + + p. 169.—_’Tis moonlight in_ HARMOZIA’S _walls._ + + The present Gombaroon, a town on the Persian side of the Gulf. + +Footnote 216: + + p. 169.—_Of trumpet and the clash of zel._ + + A Moorish instrument of music. + +Footnote 217: + + p. 170.—_The wind-tower on the_ EMIR’S _dome._ + + “At Gombaroon and other places in Persia, they have towers for the + purpose of catching the wind, and cooling the houses.”—_Le Bruyn._ + +Footnote 218: + + p. 170.—_His race hath brought on_ IRAN’S _name._ + + “Iran is the true general name for the empire of Persia.”—_Asiat. + Res._ Disc. 5. + +Footnote 219: + + p. 170.—_Engraven on his reeking sword._ + + “On the blades of their scimitars some verse from the Koran is usually + inscribed.”—_Russel._ + +Footnote 220: + + p. 171.—_Draw venom forth that drives men mad._ + + “There is a kind of Rhododendros about Trebizond, whose flowers the + bee feeds upon, and the honey thence drives people mad.”—_Tournefort._ + +Footnote 221: + + p. 172.—_Upon the turban of a king._ + + “Their kings wear plumes of black herons’ feathers upon the right + side, as a badge of sovereignty.”—_Hanway._ + +Footnote 222: + + p. 173.—_Springing in a desolate mountain._ + + “The Fountain of Youth, by a Mahometan tradition, is situated in some + dark region of the East.”—_Richardson._ + +Footnote 223: + + p. 173.—_On summer-eves, through_ YEMEN’S _dales._ + + Arabia Felix. + +Footnote 224: + + p. 174.—_Who, lull’d in cool kiosk or bower._ + + “In the midst of the garden is the chiosk, that is, a large room, + commonly beautified with a fine fountain in the midst of it. It is + raised nine or ten steps, and inclosed with gilded lattices, round + which vines, jessamines, and honeysuckles, make a sort of green wall; + large trees are planted round this place, which is the scene of their + greatest pleasures.”—_Lady M. W. Montague._ + +Footnote 225: + + p. 174.—_Before their mirrors count the time._ + + The women of the East are never without their looking-glasses. “In + Barbary,” says _Shaw_, “they are so fond of their looking-glasses, + which they hang upon their breasts, that they will not lay them + aside, even when after the drudgery of the day they are obliged to + go two or three miles with a pitcher or a goat’s skin to fetch + water.”—_Travels._ + + In other parts of Asia they wear little looking-glasses on their + thumbs. “Hence (and from the lotus being considered the emblem of + beauty) is the meaning of the following mute intercourse of two lovers + before their parents:— + + “‘He, with salute of deference due, + A lotus to his forehead prest; + She rais’d her mirror to his view, + Then turn’d it inward to her breast.’” + + _Asiatic Miscellany_, vol. ii. + +Footnote 226: + + p. 174.—_Upon the emerald’s virgin blaze._ + + “They say that if a snake or serpent fix his eyes on the lustre of + those stones (emeralds), he immediately becomes blind.”—_Ahmed ben + Abdalaziz_ Treatise on Jewels. + +Footnote 227: + + p. 175.—_After the day-beam’s withering fire._ + + “At Gombaroon and the Isle of Ormus, it is sometimes so hot that the + people are obliged to lie all day in the water.”—_Marco Polo._ + +Footnote 228: + + p. 176.—_Of_ ARARAT’S _tremendous peak._ + + This mountain is generally supposed to be inaccessible. _Struy_ says, + “I can well assure the reader that their opinion is not true, who + suppose this mount to be inaccessible.” He adds, that “the lower part + of the mountain is cloudy, misty, and dark; the middlemost part very + cold, and like clouds of snow; but the upper regions perfectly + calm.”—It was on this mountain that the ark was supposed to have + rested after the Deluge, and part of it, they say, exists there still, + which Struy thus gravely accounts for:—“Whereas none can remember that + the air on the top of the hill did ever change or was subject either + to wind or rain, which is presumed to be the reason that the Ark has + endured so long without being rotten.”—See _Carreri_’s Travels, where + the Doctor laughs at this whole account of Mount Ararat. + +Footnote 229: + + p. 177.—_The bridegroom, with his locks of light._ + + In one of the books of the Shâh Nâmeh, when Zal (a celebrated hero of + Persia, remarkable for his white hair) comes to the terrace of his + mistress Rodahver at night, she lets down her long tresses to assist + him in his ascent;—he, however, manages it in a less romantic way, by + fixing his crook in a projecting beam.—See _Champion’s Ferdosi_. + +Footnote 230: + + p. 177.—_The rock-goats of_ ARABIA _clamber._ + + “On the lofty hills of Arabia Petræa are rock-goats.”—_Niebuhr._ + +Footnote 231: + + p. 178.—_Some ditty to her soft Kanoon._ + + “Canun, espèce de psaltérion, avec des cordes de boyaux; les dames en + touchent dans le sérail, avec des écailles armées de pointes de + cooc.”—_Toderini, translated by De Cournand._ + +Footnote 232: + + p. 184.—_The Gheber belt that round him clung._ + + “They (the Ghebers) lay so much stress on their cushee or girdle, as + not to dare to be an instant without it.”—_Grose_’s Voyage.—“Le + jeune homme nia d’abord la chose; mais, ayant été dépouillé de sa + robe, et la large ceinture qu’il portoit comme Ghebr,” &c. + &c.—_D’Herbelot_, art. Agduani. “Pour se distinguer des Idolâtres de + l’Inde, les Guèbres se ceignent tous d’un cordon de laine, ou de + poil de chameau.”—_Encyclopédie Françoise._ + + D’Herbelot says this belt was generally of leather. + +Footnote 233: + + p. 184.—_Among the living lights of heaven._ + + “They suppose the Throne of the Almighty is seated in the sun, and + hence their worship of that luminary.”—_Hanway._ “As to fire, the + Ghebers place the spring-head of it in that globe of fire the Sun, by + them called Mythras, or Mihir, to which they pay the highest + reverence, in gratitude for the manifold benefits flowing from its + ministerial omniscience. But they are so far from confounding the + subordination of the Servant with the majesty of its Creator, that + they not only attribute no sort of sense or reasoning to the sun or + fire, in any of its operations, but consider it as a purely passive + blind instrument, directed and governed by the immediate impression on + it of the will of God: but they do not even give that luminary, + all-glorious as it is, more than the second rank amongst his works, + reserving the first for that stupendous production of divine power, + the mind of man.”—_Grose._ The false charges brought against the + religion of these people by their Mussulman tyrants is but one proof + among many of the truth of this writer’s remark, that “calumny is + often added to oppression, if but for the sake of justifying it.” + +Footnote 234: + + p. 188.—_And fiery darts, at intervals._ + + “The Mameluks that were in the other boat, when it was dark, used to + shoot up a sort of fiery arrows into the air, which in some measure + resembled lightning or falling stars.”—_Baumgarten._ + +Footnote 235: + + p. 190.—_Which grows over the tomb of the musician, Tan-Sein._—“Within + the inclosure which surrounds this monument (at Gualior) is a small + tomb to the memory of Tan-Sein, a musician of incomparable skill, who + flourished at the court of Akbar. The tomb is overshadowed by a tree, + concerning which a superstitious notion prevails, that the chewing of + its leaves will give an extraordinary melody to the voice.”—_Narrative + of a Journey from Agra to Ouzein, by W. Hunter, Esq._ + +Footnote 236: + + p. 190.—_The awful signal of the bamboo staff._—“It is usual to place + a small white triangular flag, fixed to a bamboo staff of ten or + twelve feet long, at the place where a tiger has destroyed a man. It + is common for the passengers also to throw each a stone or brick near + the spot, so that in the course of a little time a pile equal to a + good waggon-load is collected. The sight of these flags and piles of + stones imparts a certain melancholy, not perhaps altogether void of + apprehension.”—_Oriental Field Sports_, vol. ii. + +Footnote 237: + + p. 190.—_Ornamented with the most beautiful porcelain._—“The Ficus + Indica is called the Pagod Tree and Tree of Councils; the first, from + the idols placed under its shade; the second, because meetings were + held under its cool branches. In some places it is believed to be the + haunt of spectres, as the ancient spreading oaks of Wales have been of + fairies; in others are erected beneath the shade pillars of stone, or + posts, elegantly carved, and ornamented with the most beautiful + porcelain to supply the use of mirrors.”—_Pennant._ + +Footnote 238: + + p. 192.—_And o’er the Green Sea palely shines._ + + The Persian Gulf—“To dive for pearls in the Green Sea, or Persian + Gulf.”—_Sir W. Jones._ + +Footnote 239: + + p. 192.—_Revealing_ BAHREIN’S _groves of palm, + And lighting_ KISHMA’S _amber vines._ + + Islands in the Gulf. + +Footnote 240: + + p. 192.—_Blow round_ SELAMA’S _sainted cape._ + + Or Selemeh, the genuine name of the headland at the entrance of the + Gulf, commonly called Cape Musseldom. “The Indians, when they pass the + promontory, throw cocoa-nuts, fruits, or flowers, into the sea, to + secure a propitious voyage.”—_Morier._ + +Footnote 241: + + p. 193.—_The nightingale now bends her flight._ + + “The nightingale sings from the pomegranate groves in the day-time, + and from the loftiest trees at night.”—_Russel_’s Aleppo. + +Footnote 242: + + p. 193.—_The best and brightest scimitar._ + + In speaking of the climate of Shiraz, Francklin says, “The dew is of + such a pure nature, that if the brightest scimitar should be exposed + to it all night, it would not receive the least rust.” + +Footnote 243: + + p. 194.—_Who, on_ CADESSIA’S _bloody plains._ + + The place where the Persians were finally defeated by the Arabs, and + their ancient monarchy destroyed. + +Footnote 244: + + p. 194.—_Beyond the Caspian’s Iron Gates._ + + Derbend.—“Les Turcs appellent cette ville Demir Capi, Porte de Fer; ce + sont les Caspiæ Portæ des anciens.”—_D’Herbelot._ + +Footnote 245: + + p. 195.—_They burst, like Zeilan’s giant palm._ + + The Talpot or Talipot-tree. “This beautiful palm-tree, which grows in + the heart of the forests, may be classed among the loftiest trees, and + becomes still higher when on the point of bursting forth from its + leafy summit. The sheath which then envelopes the flower is very + large, and, when it bursts, makes an explosion like the report of a + cannon.”—_Thunberg._ + +Footnote 246: + + p. 196.—_Before whose sabre’s dazzling light._ + + “When the bright cimitars make the eyes of our heroes wink.”—_The + Moallakat, Poem of Amru._ + +Footnote 247: + + p. 198.—_Sprung from those old, enchanted kings._ + + Tahmuras, and other ancient kings of Persia; whose adventures in + Fairy-land among the Peris and Dives may be found in Richardson’s + curious Dissertation. The griffin Simoorgh, they say, took some + feathers from her breast for Tahmuras, with which he adorned his + helmet, and transmitted them afterwards to his descendants. + +Footnote 248: + + p. 199.—_Of sainted cedars on its banks._ + + This rivulet, says Dandini, is called the Holy river from the + “cedar-saints” among which it rises. + + In the _Lettres Edifiantes_, there is a different cause assigned for + its name of Holy. “In these are deep caverns, which formerly served as + so many cells for a great number of recluses, who had chosen these + retreats as the only witnesses upon earth of the severity of their + penance. The tears of these pious penitents gave the river of which we + have just treated the name of the Holy River.”—See _Châteaubriand_’s + Beauties of Christianity. + +Footnote 249: + + p. 200.—_Of_ OMAN _beetling awfully._ + + This mountain is my own creation, as the “stupendous chain,” of which + I suppose it a link, does not extend quite so far as the shores of the + Persian Gulf. “This long and lofty range of mountains formerly divided + Media from Assyria, and now forms the boundary of the Persian and + Turkish empires. It runs parallel with the river Tigris and Persian + Gulf, and almost disappearing in the vicinity of Gomberoon (Harmozia), + seems once more to rise in the southern districts of Kerman, and + following an easterly course through the centre of Meckraun and + Balouchistan, is entirely lost in the deserts of Sinde.”—_Kinneir_’s + Persian Empire. + +Footnote 250: + + p. 201.—_That oft the sleeping albatross._ + + These birds sleep in the air. They are most common about the Cape of + Good Hope. + +Footnote 251: + + p 201.—_Beneath the Gheber’s lonely cliff._ + + There is an extraordinary hill in this neighbourhood, called Kohé + Gubr, or the Guebre’s mountain. It rises in the form of a lofty + cupola, and on the summit of it, they say, are the remains of an Atush + Kudu, or Fire-Temple. It is superstitiously held to be the residence + of Deeves or Sprites, and many marvellous stories are recounted of the + injury and witchcraft suffered by those who essayed in former days to + ascend or explore it.—_Pottinger_’s Beloochistan. + +Footnote 252: + + p. 202.—_Of that vast mountain stood on fire._ + + The Ghebers generally built their temples over subterraneous fires. + +Footnote 253: + + p. 202.—_Still did the mighty flame burn on._ + + “At the city of Yezd, in Persia, which is distinguished by the + appellation of the Darûb Abadut, or Seat of Religion, the Guebres are + permitted to have an Atush Kudu, or Fire-Temple, (which, they assert, + has had the sacred fire in it since the days of Zoroaster,) in their + own compartment of the city; but for this indulgence they are indebted + to the avarice, not the tolerance, of the Persian government, which + taxes them at twenty-five rupees each man.”—_Pottinger_’s + Beloochistan. + +Footnote 254: + + p. 204.—_The blood of_ ZAL _and_ RUSTAM _rolls._ + + Ancient heroes of Persia. “Among the Guebres there are some who boast + their descent from Rustam.”—_Stephen_’s Persia. + +Footnote 255: + + p. 204.—_Across the dark sea-robber’s way._ + + See Russel’s account of the panther’s attacking travellers in the + night on the sea-shore about the roots of Lebanon. + +Footnote 256: + + p. 206.—_The wandering Spirits of their Dead._ + + “Among other ceremonies the Magi used to place upon the tops of high + towers various kinds of rich viands, upon which it was supposed the + Peris and the spirits of their departed heroes regaled + themselves.”—_Richardson._ + +Footnote 257: + + p. 206.—_Nor charmed leaf of pure pomegranate._ + + In the ceremonies of the Ghebers round their Fire, as described by + Lord, “the Daroo,” he says, “giveth them water to drink, and a + pomegranate leaf to chew in the mouth, to cleanse them from inward + uncleanness.” + +Footnote 258: + + p. 206.—_Nor symbol of their worshipp’d planet._ + + “Early in the morning, they (the Parsees or Ghebers at Oulam) go in + crowds to pay their devotions to the Sun, to whom upon all the altars + there are spheres consecrated, made by magic, resembling the circles + of the sun, and when the sun rises, these orbs seem to be inflamed, + and to turn round with a great noise. They have every one a censer in + their hands, and offer incense to the sun.”—_Rabbi Benjamin._ + +Footnote 259: + + p. 206.—_They swore the latest, holiest deed._ + + “Nul d’entre eux oseroit se parjurer, quand il a pris à témoin cet + élément terrible et vengeur.”—_Encyclopédie Françoise._ + +Footnote 260: + + p. 207.—_The Persian lily shines and towers._ + + “A vivid verdure succeeds the autumnal rains, and the ploughed fields + are covered with the Persian lily, of a resplendent yellow + colour.”—_Russel_’s Aleppo. + +Footnote 261: + + p. 210.—_When toss’d at midnight furiously._ + + “It is observed, with respect to the Sea of Herkend, that when it is + tossed by tempestuous winds it sparkles like fire.”—_Travels of Two + Mohammedans._ + +Footnote 262: + + p. 210.—_Up, daughter, up—the_ KERNA’S _breath._ + + A kind of trumpet;—it “was that used by Tamerlane, the sound of which + is described as uncommonly dreadful, and so loud as to be heard at the + distance of several miles.”—_Richardson._ + +Footnote 263: + + p. 212.—_Thou wor’st on_ OHOD’S _field of death._ + + “Mohammed had two helmets, an interior and exterior one; the latter of + which, called Al Mawashah, the fillet, wreath, or wreathed garland, he + wore at the battle of Ohod.”—_Universal History._ + +Footnote 264: + + p. 214.—_But turn to ashes on the lips._ + + They say that there are apple-trees upon the sides of this sea, which + bear very lovely fruit, but within are all full of ashes.—_Thevenot._ + The same is asserted of the oranges there; vide _Witman_’s Travels in + Asiatic Turkey. + + “The Asphalt Lake, known by the name of the Dead Sea, is very + remarkable on account of the considerable proportion of salt which it + contains. In this respect it surpasses every other known water on the + surface of the earth. This great proportion of bitter tasted salts is + the reason why neither animal nor plant can live in this + water.”—_Klaproth_’s Chemical Analysis of the Water of the Dead Sea, + Annals of Philosophy, January, 1813. _Hasselquist_, however, doubts + the truth of this last assertion, as there are shell-fish to be found + in the lake. + + Lord Byron has a similar allusion to the fruits of the Dead Sea, in + that wonderful display of genius, his third Canto of Childe + Harold,—magnificent beyond any thing, perhaps, that even _he_ has ever + written. + +Footnote 265: + + p. 214.—_While lakes, that shone in mockery nigh._ + + “The Suhrab, or Water of the Desert, is said to be caused by the + rarefaction of the atmosphere from extreme heat; and, which augments + the delusion, it is most frequent in hollows, where water might be + expected to lodge. I have seen bushes and trees reflected in it with + as much accuracy as though it had been the face of a clear and still + lake.”—_Pottinger._ + + “As to the unbelievers, their works are like a vapour in a plain which + the thirsty traveller thinketh to be water, until when he cometh + thereto he findeth it to be nothing.”—_Koran_, chap. 24. + +Footnote 266: + + p. 215.—_The Bid-musk had just passed over._—“A wind which prevails in + February, called Bidmusk, from a small and odoriferous flower of that + name.”—“The wind which blows these flowers commonly lasts till the end + of the month.”—_Le Bruyn._ + +Footnote 267: + + p. 215.—_The sea-gipsies, who live for ever on the water._—“The Biajús + are of two races: the one is settled on Borneo, and are a rude but + warlike and industrious nation, who reckon themselves the original + possessors of the island of Borneo. The other is a species of + sea-gipsies or itinerant fishermen, who live in small covered boats, + and enjoy a perpetual summer on the eastern ocean, shifting to leeward + from island to island, with the variations of the monsoon. In some of + their customs this singular race resemble the natives of the Maldivia + islands. The Maldivians annually launch a small bark, loaded with + perfumes, gums, flowers, and odoriferous wood, and turn it adrift at + the mercy of winds and waves, as an offering to the _Spirit of the + Winds_; and sometimes similar offerings are made to the spirit whom + they term the _King of the Sea_. In like manner the Biajús perform + their offering to the God of Evil, launching a small bark, loaded with + all the sins and misfortunes of the nation, which are imagined to fall + on the unhappy crew that may be so unlucky as first to meet with + it.”—_Dr. Leyden_ on the Languages and Literature of the Indo-Chinese + Nations. + +Footnote 268: + + p. 215.—_The violet sherbets._—“The sweet-scented violet is one of the + plants most esteemed, particularly for its great use in Sorbet, which + they make of violet sugar.”—_Hasselquist._ + + “The sherbet they most esteem, and which is drunk by the Grand Signor + himself, is made of violets and sugar.”—_Tavernier._ + +Footnote 269: + + p. 215.—_The pathetic measure of Nava._—“Last of all she took a + guitar, and sung a pathetic air in the measure called Nava, which is + always used to express the lamentations of absent lovers.”—_Persian + Tales._ + +Footnote 270: + + p. 217.—_No music tim’d her parting oar._ + + “The Easterns used to set out on their longer voyages with + music.”—_Harmer._ + +Footnote 271: + + p. 217.—_In silence through the Gate of Tears._ + + “The Gate of Tears, the straits or passage into the Red Sea, commonly + called Babelmandel. It received this name from the old Arabians, on + account of the danger of the navigation, and the number of shipwrecks + by which it was distinguished; which induced them to consider as dead, + and to wear mourning for all who had the boldness to hazard the + passage through it into the Ethiopic ocean.”—_Richardson._ + +Footnote 272: + + p. 218.—_In the still warm and living breath._ + + “I have been told that whensoever an animal falls down dead, one or + more vultures, unseen before, instantly appear.”—_Pennant._ + +Footnote 273: + + p. 218.—_As a young bird of_ BABYLON. + + “They fasten some writing to the wings of a Bagdat or Babylonian + pigeon.”—_Travels of certain Englishmen._ + +Footnote 274: + + p. 219.—_Shooting around their jasper fount._ + + “The Empress of Jehan-Guire used to divert herself with feeding tame + fish in her canals, some of which were many years afterwards known by + fillets of gold, which she caused to be put round them.”—_Harris._ + +Footnote 275: + + p. 219.—_To tell her ruby rosary._ + + “Le Tespih, qui est un chapelet composé de 99 petites boules d’agate, + de jaspe, d’ambre, de corail, ou d’autre matière précieuse. J’en ai vu + un superbe au Seigneur Jerpos; il étoit de belles et grosses perles + parfaites et égales, estimé trente mille piastres.”—_Toderini._ + +Footnote 276: + + p. 223.—_Like meteor brands as if throughout._ + + The meteors that Pliny calls “faces.” + +Footnote 277: + + p. 224.—_The Star of_ EGYPT _whose proud light._ + + “The brilliant Canopus, unseen in European climates.”—_Brown._ + +Footnote 278: + + p. 224.—_In the White Islands of the West._ + + See Wilford’s learned Essays on the Sacred Isles in the West. + +Footnote 279: + + p. 225.—_Sparkles, as ’twere that lightning-gem._ + + A precious stone of the Indies, called by the ancients Ceraunium, + because it was supposed to be found in places where thunder had + fallen. Tertullian says it has a glittering appearance, as if there + had been fire in it; and the author of the Dissertation in Harris’s + Voyages supposes it to be the opal. + +Footnote 280: + + p. 227.—_Their garb—the leathern belt that wraps._ + + _D’Herbelot_, art. Agduani. + +Footnote 281: + + p. 227.—_Each yellow vest—that rebel hue._ + + “The Guebres are known by a dark yellow colour, which the men affect + in their clothes.”—_Thevenot._ + +Footnote 282: + + p. 227.—_The Tartar fleece upon their caps._ + + “The Kolah or cap, worn by the Persians, is made of the skin of the + sheep of Tartary.”—_Waring._ + +Footnote 283: + + p. 234.—_Open her bosom’s glowing veil._ + + A frequent image among the Oriental poets. “The nightingales warbled + their enchanting notes, and rent the thin veils of the rosebud and the + rose.”—_Jami._ + +Footnote 284: + + p. 237.—_The sorrowful tree, Nilica._—“Blossoms of the sorrowful + Nyctanthes give a durable colour to silk.”—_Remarks on the Husbandry + of Bengal_, p. 200. Nilica is one of the Indian names of this + flower.—_Sir W. Jones._ The Persians call it Gul.—_Carreri._ + +Footnote 285: + + p. 239.—_That cooling feast the traveller loves._ + + “In parts of Kerman, whatever dates are shaken from the trees by the + wind they do not touch, but leave them for those who have not any, or + for travellers.”—_Ebn Haukal._ + +Footnote 286: + + p. 240.—_The Searchers of the Grave appear._ + + The two terrible angels Monkir and Nakir, who are called “the + Searchers of the Grave” in the “Creed of the orthodox Mahometans” + given by Ockley, vol. ii. + +Footnote 287: + + p. 240.—_The mandrake’s charnel leaves at night._ + + “The Arabians call the mandrake ‘the Devil’s candle,’ on account of + its shining appearance in the night.”—_Richardson._ + +Footnote 288: + + p. 249.—_Of the still Halls of_ ISHMONIE. + + For an account of Ishmonie, the petrified city in Upper Egypt, where + it is said there are many statues of men, women, &c. to be seen to + this day, see Perry’s _View of the Levant_. + +Footnote 289: + + p. 250.—_And ne’er did saint of_ ISSA _gaze._—Jesus. + +Footnote 290: + + p. 251.—_The death-flames that beneath him burn’d!_ + + The Ghebers say that when Abraham, their great Prophet, was thrown + into the fire by order of Nimrod, the flame turned instantly into “a + bed of roses, where the child sweetly reposed.”—_Tavernier._ + + Of their other Prophet, Zoroaster, there is a story told in _Dion + Prusæus_, Orat. 36, that the love of wisdom and virtue leading him to + a solitary life upon a mountain, he found it one day all in a flame, + shining with celestial fire, out of which he came without any harm, + and instituted certain sacrifices to God, who, he declared, then + appeared to him.—See _Patrick_ on Exodus, iii. 2. + +Footnote 291: + + p. 254.—_A ponderous sea-horn hung, and blew._ + + “The shell called Siiankos, common to India, Africa, and the + Mediterranean, and still used in many parts as a trumpet for blowing + alarms or giving signals: it sends forth a deep and hollow + sound.”—_Pennant._ + +Footnote 292: + + p. 255.—_And the white ox-tails stream’d behind._ + + “The finest ornament for the horses is made of six large flying + tassels of long white hair, taken out of the tails of wild oxen, that + are to be found in some places of the Indies.”—_Thevenot._ + +Footnote 293: + + p. 257.—_Sweet as the angel_ ISRAFIL’S. + + “The angel Israfil, who has the most melodious voice of all God’s + creatures.”—_Sale._ + +Footnote 294: + + p. 261.—_Wound slow, as through_ GOLCONDA’S _vale._ + + See Hoole upon the Story of Sinbad. + +Footnote 295: + + p. 265.—_From the wild covert where he lay._ + + “In this thicket upon the banks of the Jordan several sorts of wild + beasts are wont to harbour themselves, whose being washed out of the + covert by the overflowings of the river gave occasion to that allusion + of Jeremiah, _he shall come up like a lion from the swelling of + Jordan_.”—_Maundrell_’s Aleppo. + +Footnote 296: + + p. 275.—_Like the wind of the south o’er a summer lute blowing._ + + “This wind (the Samoor) so softens the strings of lutes, that they can + never be tuned while it lasts.”—_Stephen_’s Persia. + +Footnote 297: + + p. 275.—_With nought but the sea-star to light up her tomb._ + + “One of the greatest curiosities found in the Persian Gulf is a fish + which the English call Star-fish. It is circular, and at night very + luminous, resembling the full moon surrounded by rays.”—_Mirza Abu + Taleb._ + +Footnote 298: + + p. 275.—_And still, when the merry date-season is burning._ + + For a description of the merriment of the date-time, of their work, + their dances, and their return home from the palm-groves at the end of + autumn with the fruits, see _Kæmpfer, Amœnitat. Exot._ + +Footnote 299: + + p. 276.—_That ever the sorrowing sea-bird has wept._ + + Some naturalists have imagined that amber is a concretion of the tears + of birds.—See _Trevoux, Chambers_. + +Footnote 300: + + p. 276.—_We’ll seek where the sands of the Caspian are sparkling._ + + “The bay Kieselarke, which is otherwise called the Golden Bay, the + sand whereof shines as fire.”—_Struy._ + +Footnote 301: + + p. 278.—_The summary criticism of the Chabuk._—“The application of + whips or rods.”—_Dubois._ + +Footnote 302: + + p. 279.—_Chief Holder of the Girdle of Beautiful Forms._—Kæmpfer + mentions such an officer among the attendants of the King of Persia, + and calls him “formæ corporis estimator.” His business was, at stated + periods, to measure the ladies of the Haram by a sort of + regulation-girdle, whose limits it was not thought graceful to exceed. + If any of them outgrew this standard of shape, they were reduced by + abstinence till they came within proper bounds. + +Footnote 303: + + p. 279.—_Forbidden River._—The Attock. + + “Akbar on his way ordered a fort to be built upon the Nilab, which he + called Attock, which means in the Indian language Forbidden; for, by + the superstition of the Hindoos, it was held unlawful to cross that + river.”—_Dow_’s Hindostan. + +Footnote 304: + + p. 280.—_One genial star that rises nightly over their heads._—“The + inhabitants of this country (Zinge) are never afflicted with sadness + or melancholy; on this subject the Sheikh _Abu-Al-Kheir-Azhari_ has + the following distich:— + + “‘Who is the man without care or sorrow, (tell) that I may rub my hand + to him. + + “‘(Behold) the Zingians, without care or sorrow, frolicksome with + tipsiness and mirth.’ + + “The philosophers have discovered that the cause of this cheerfulness + proceeds from the influence of the star Soheil or Canopus, which rises + over them every night.”—_Extract from a Geographical Persian + Manuscript called Heft Aklim, or the Seven Climates, translated by W. + Ouseley, Esq._ + +Footnote 305: + + p. 281.—_Lizards._—“The lizard Stellio. The Arabs call it Hardun. The + Turks kill it, for they imagine that by declining the head it mimics + them when they say their prayers.”—_Hasselquist._ + +Footnote 306: + + p. 281.—_Royal Gardens._—For these particulars respecting Hussun + Abdaul, I am indebted to the very interesting Introduction of Mr. + Elphinstone’s work upon Caubul. + +Footnote 307: + + p. 281.—_It was too delicious._—“As you enter at that Bazar, without + the gate of Damascus, you see the Green Mosque, so called because it + hath a steeple faced with green glazed bricks, which render it very + resplendent; it is covered at top with a pavilion of the same stuff. + The Turks say this mosque was made in that place, because Mahomet + being come so far, would not enter the town, saying it was too + delicious.”—_Thevenot._ This reminds one of the following pretty + passage in Isaac Walton:—“When I sat last on this primrose bank, and + looked down these meadows, I thought of them as Charles the Emperor + did of the city of Florence, ‘that they were too pleasant to be looked + on, but only on holidays.’” + +Footnote 308: + + p. 281.—_The Sultana Nourmahal, the Light of the Haram._—Nourmahal + signifies Light of the Haram. She was afterwards called Nourjehan, or + the Light of the World. + +Footnote 309: + + p. 282.—_The small shining fishes of which she was so fond._—See note, + p. 367. + +Footnote 310: + + p. 282.—_Haroun-al-Raschid and his fair mistress Marida._—“Haroun al + Raschid, cinquième Khalife des Abassides, s’étant un jour brouillé + avec une de ses maîtresses nommée Maridah, qu’il aimoit cependant + jusqu’à l’excès, et cette mésintelligence ayant déjà duré quelque tems + commença à s’ennuyer. Giafar Barmaki, son favori, qui s’en apperçut, + commanda à Abbas ben Ahnaf, excellent poëte de ce tems-là, de composer + quelques vers sur le sujet de cette brouillerie. Ce poëte exécuta + l’ordre de Giafar, qiu fit chanter ces vers par Moussali en présence + du Khalife, et ce Prince fut tellement touché de la tendresse des vers + du poëte et de la douceur de la voix du musicien, qu’il alla aussitôt + trouver Maridah, et fit sa paix avec elle.”—_D’Herbelot._ + +Footnote 311: + + p. 285.—_With its roses the brightest that earth ever gave._ + + “The rose of Kashmire, for its brilliancy and delicacy of odour, has + long been proverbial in the East.”—_Forster._ + +Footnote 312: + + p. 286.—_Round the waist of some fair Indian dancer is ringing._ + + “Tied round her waist the zone of bells, that sounded with ravishing + melody.”—_Song of Jayadeva._ + +Footnote 313: + + p. 286.—_The young aspen-trees._ + + “The little isles in the Lake of Cachemire are set with arbours and + large-leaved aspen-trees, slender and tall.”—_Bernier._ + +Footnote 314: + + p. 287.—_Shines in through the mountainous portal that opes._ + + “The Tuckt Suliman, the name bestowed by the Mahometans on this hill, + forms one side of a grand portal to the Lake.”—_Forster._ + +Footnote 315: + + p. 287.—_The Valley holds its Feast of Roses._ + + “The Feast of Roses continues the whole time of their remaining in + bloom.”—See _Pietro de la Valle_. + +Footnote 316: + + p. 287.—_The Flow’ret of a hundred leaves._ + + “Gud sad berk, the Rose of a hundred leaves. I believe a particular + species.”—_Ouseley._ + +Footnote 317: + + p. 287.—_Behind the palms of_ BARAMOULE.—_Bernier._ + +Footnote 318: + + p. 288.—_On_ BELA’S _hills is less alive._ + + A place mentioned in the Toozek Jehangeery, or Memoirs of Jehanguire, + where there is an account of the beds of saffron-flowers about + Cashmere. + +Footnote 319: + + p. 289.—_Sung from his lighted gallery._ + + “It is the custom among the women to employ the Maazeen to chaunt from + the gallery of the nearest minaret, which on that occasion is + illuminated, and the women assembled at the house respond at intervals + with a ziraleet or joyous chorus.”—_Russel._ + +Footnote 320: + + p. 289.—_From gardens, where the silken swing._ + + “The swing is a favourite pastime in the East, as promoting a + circulation of air, extremely refreshing in those sultry + climates.”—_Richardson._ + + “The swings are adorned with festoons. This pastime is accompanied + with the music of voices and of instruments, hired by the masters of + the swings.”—_Thevenot._ + +Footnote 321: + + p. 289.—_Among the tents that line the way._ + + “At the keeping of the Feast of Roses we beheld an infinite number of + tents pitched, with such a crowd of men, women, boys, and girls, with + music, dances,” &c. &c.—_Herbert._ + +Footnote 322: + + p. 290.—_An answer in song to the kiss of each wave._ + + “An old commentator of the Chou-King says, the ancients having + remarked that a current of water made some of the stones near its + banks send forth a sound, they detached some of them, and being + charmed with the delightful sound they emitted, constructed King or + musical instruments of them.”—_Grosier._ + + This miraculous quality has been attributed also to the shore of + Attica. “Hujus littus, ait Capella, concentum musicum illisis terræ + undis reddere, quod propter tantam eruditionis vim puto + dictum.”—_Ludov. Vives in Augustin. de Civitat. Dei_, lib. xviii. c. + 8. + +Footnote 323: + + p. 290.—_So felt the magnificent Son of Acbar._ + + Jehanguire was the son of the Great Acbar. + +Footnote 324: + + p. 292.—_Yet playful as Peris just loos’d from their cages._ + + In the wars of the Dives with the Peris, whenever the former took the + latter prisoners, “they shut them up in iron cages, and hung them on + the highest trees. Here they were visited by their companions, who + brought them the choicest odours.”—_Richardson._ + +Footnote 325: + + p. 293.—_Of the flowers of this planet—though treasures were there._ + + In the Malay language the same word signifies women and flowers. + +Footnote 326: + + p. 293.—_He saw that City of Delight._ + + The capital of Shadukiam. See note, p. 357. + +Footnote 327: + + p. 295.—_He sits, with flow’rets fetter’d round._ + + See the representation of the Eastern Cupid, pinioned closely round + with wreaths of flowers, in _Picart_’s Cérémonies Religieuses. + +Footnote 328: + + p. 295.—_Lose all their glory when he flies._ + + “Among the birds of Tonquin is a species of goldfinch, which sings so + melodiously that it is called the Celestial bird. Its wings, when it + is perched, appear variegated with beautiful colours, but when it + flies they lose all their splendour.”—_Grosier._ + +Footnote 329: + + p. 296.—_Whose pinion knows no resting place._ + + “As these birds on the Bosphorus are never known to rest, they are + called by the French ‘les âmes damnées.’”—_Dalloway._ + +Footnote 330: + + p. 296.—_If there his darling rose is not._ + + “You may place a hundred handfuls of fragrant herbs and flowers before + the nightingale, yet he wishes not, in his constant heart, for more + than the sweet breath of his beloved rose.”—_Jami._ + +Footnote 331: + + p. 298.—_From the great Mantra, which around._ + + “He is said to have found the great _Mantra_, spell or talisman, + through which he ruled over the elements and spirits of all + denominations.”—_Wilford._ + +Footnote 332: + + p. 298.—_To the gold gems of_ AFRIC. + + “The gold jewels of Jinnie, which are called by the Arabs El Herrez, + from the supposed charm they contain.”—_Jackson._ + +Footnote 333: + + p. 298.—_To keep him from the Siltim’s harm._ + + “A demon, supposed to haunt woods, &c. in a human + shape.”—_Richardson._ + +Footnote 334: + + p. 298.—_Her Selim’s smile to_ NOURMAHAL. + + The name of Jehanguire before his accession to the throne. + +Footnote 335: + + p. 300.—_Anemones and Seas of Gold._ + + “Hemasagara, or the Sea of Gold, with flowers of the brightest gold + colour.”—_Sir W. Jones._ + +Footnote 336: + + p. 300.—_Their buds on_ CAMADEVA’S _quiver._ + + “This tree (the Nagacesara) is one of the most delightful on earth, + and the delicious odour of its blossoms justly gives them a place in + the quiver of Camadeva, or the God of Love.”—_Id._ + +Footnote 337: + + p. 300.—_Is call’d the Mistress of the Night._ + + “The Malayans style the tube-rose (Polianthes tuberosa) Sandal Malam, + or the Mistress of the Night.”—_Pennant._ + +Footnote 338: + + p. 300.—_That wander through_ ZAMARA’S _shades._ + + The people of the Batta country in Sumatra (of which Zamara is one of + the ancient names), “when not engaged in war, lead an idle, inactive + life, passing the day in playing on a kind of flute, crowned with + garlands of flowers, among which the globe-amaranthus, a native of the + country, mostly prevails.”—_Marsden._ + +Footnote 339: + + p. 300.—_From the divine Amrita tree._ + + “The largest and richest sort (of the Jambu, or rose-apple) is called + Amrita, or immortal, and the mythologists of Tibet apply the same word + to a celestial tree, bearing ambrosial fruit.”—_Sir W. Jones._ + +Footnote 340: + + p. 301.—_Down to the basil tuft, that waves._ + + Sweet basil, called Rayhan in Persia, and generally found in + church-yards. + + “The women in Egypt go, at least two days in the week, to pray and + weep at the sepulchres of the dead; and the custom then is to throw + upon the tombs a sort of herb, which the Arabs call _rihan_, and which + is our sweet basil.”—_Maillet_, Lett. 10. + +Footnote 341: + + p. 301.—_To scent the desert and the dead._ + + “In the Great Desert are found many stalks of lavender and + rosemary.”—_Asiat. Res._ + +Footnote 342: + + p. 303.—_That blooms on a leafless bough._ + + “The almond-tree, with white flowers, blossoms on the bare + branches.”—_Hasselquist._ + +Footnote 343: + + p. 303.—_Inhabit the mountain-herb, that dyes._ + + An herb on Mount Libanus, which is said to communicate a yellow golden + hue to the teeth of the goats and other animals that graze upon it. + + _Niebuhr_ thinks this may be the herb which the Eastern alchymists + look to as a means of making gold. “Most of those alchymical + enthusiasts think themselves sure of success, if they could but find + out the herb, which gilds the teeth and gives a yellow colour to the + flesh of the sheep that eat it. Even the oil of this plant must be of + a golden colour. It is called _Haschischat ed dab_.” + + Father Jerom Dandini, however, asserts that the teeth of the goats at + Mount Libanus are of a _silver_ colour; and adds, “This confirms to me + that which I observed in Candia: to wit, that the animals that live on + Mount Ida eat a certain herb, which renders their teeth of a golden + colour; which, according to my judgment, cannot otherwise proceed than + from the mines which are under ground.”—_Dandini_, Voyage to Mount + Libanus. + +Footnote 344: + + p. 304.—_Of_ AZAB _blew, was full of scents._—The myrrh country. + +Footnote 345: + + p. 304.—_Where Love himself, of old, lay sleeping._ + + “This idea (of deities living in shells) was not unknown to the + Greeks, who represent the young Nerites, one of the Cupids, as living + in shells on the shores of the Red Sea.”—_Wilford._ + +Footnote 346: + + p. 305.—_From_ CHINDARA’S _warbling fount I come._ + + “A fabulous mountain, where instruments are said to be constantly + playing.”—_Richardson._ + +Footnote 347: + + p. 307.—_The cinnamon-seed from grove to grove._ + + “The Pompadour pigeon is the species, which, by carrying the fruit of + the cinnamon to different places, is a great disseminator of this + valuable tree.”—See _Brown_’s Illustr. Tab. 19. + +Footnote 348: + + p. 307.—_The past, the present, and future of pleasure._ + + “Whenever our pleasure arises from a succession of sounds, it is a + perception of a complicated nature, made up of a _sensation_ of the + present sound or note, and an _idea_ or remembrance of the foregoing, + while their mixture and concurrence produce such a mysterious delight, + as neither could have produced alone. And it is often heightened by an + anticipation of the succeeding notes. Thus Sense, Memory and + Imagination are conjunctively employed.”—_Gerrard_ on Taste. + + This is exactly the Epicurean theory of Pleasure, as explained by + Cicero:—“Quocirca corpus gaudere tamdiu, dum præsentem sentiret + voluptatem: animum et præsentem percipere pariter cum corpore et + prospicere venientem, nec præteritam præterfluere sinere.” + + Madame de Staël accounts upon the same principle for the gratification + we derive from _rhyme_:—“Elle est l’image de l’espérance et du + souvenir. Un son nous fait désirer celui qui doit lui répondre, et + quand le second retentit il nous rappelle celui qui vient de nous + échapper.” + +Footnote 349: + + p. 308.—_Whose glimpses are again withdrawn._ + + “The Persians have two mornings, the Soobhi Kazim and the Soobhi + Sadig, the false and the real day-break. They account for this + phenomenon in a most whimsical manner. They say that as the sun rises + from behind the Kohi Qaf (Mount Caucasus), it passes a hole perforated + through that mountain, and that darting its rays through it, it is the + cause of the Soobhi Kazim, or this temporary appearance of day-break. + As it ascends, the earth is again veiled in darkness, until the sun + rises above the mountain, and brings with it the Soobhi Sadig, or real + morning.”—_Scott Waring._ He thinks Milton may allude to this, when he + says,— + + “Ere the blabbing Eastern scout, + The nice morn on the Indian steep + From her cabin’d loop-hole peep.” + +Footnote 350: + + p. 309.—_In his magnificent Shalimar._ + + “In the centre of the plain, as it approaches the Lake, one of the + Delhi Emperors, I believe Shah Jehan, constructed a spacious garden + called the Shalimar, which is abundantly stored with fruit-trees and + flowering shrubs. Some of the rivulets which intersect the plain are + led into a canal at the back of the garden, and flowing through its + centre, or occasionally thrown into a variety of water-works, compose + the chief beauty of the Shalimar. To decorate this spot, the Mogul + Princes of India have displayed an equal magnificence and taste; + especially Jehan Gheer, who, with the enchanting Noor Mahl, made + Kashmire his usual residence during the summer months. On arches + thrown over the canal are erected, at equal distances, four or five + suites of apartments, each consisting of a saloon, with four rooms at + the angles, where the followers of the court attend, and the servants + prepare sherbets, coffee, and the hookah. The frame of the doors of + the principal saloon is composed of pieces of a stone of a black + colour, streaked with yellow lines, and of a closer grain and higher + polish than porphyry. They were taken, it is said, from a Hindoo + temple, by one of the Mogul princes, and are esteemed of great + value.”—_Forster._ + +Footnote 351: + + p. 309.—_Of beauty from its founts and streams._ + + “The waters of Cachemir are the more renowned from its being supposed + that the Cachemirians are indebted for their beauty to them.”—_Ali + Yezdi._ + +Footnote 352: + + p. 309.—_Singing in gardens of the South._ + + “From him I received the following little Gazzel, or Love Song, the + notes of which he committed to paper from the voice of one of those + singing girls of Cashmere, who wander from that delightful valley over + the various parts of India.”—_Persian Miscellanies._ + +Footnote 353: + + p. 309.—_Delicate as the roses there._ + + “The roses of the Jinan Nile, or Garden of the Nile (attached to the + Emperor of Marocco’s palace), are unequalled, and mattresses are made + of their leaves for the men of rank to recline upon.”—_Jackson._ + +Footnote 354: + + p. 309.—_With Paphian diamonds in their locks._ + + “On the side of a mountain near Paphos there is a cavern which + produces the most beautiful rock-crystal. On account of its brilliancy + it has been called the Paphian diamond.”—_Mariti._ + +Footnote 355: + + p. 309.—_On the gold meads of Candahar._ + + “There is a part of Candahar, called Peria, or Fairy + Land.”—_Thevenot._ In some of those countries to the north of India, + vegetable gold is supposed to be produced. + +Footnote 356: + + p. 310.—_Had been by magic all set flying._ + + “These are the butterflies which are called in the Chinese language + Flying Leaves. Some of them have such shining colours, and are so + variegated, that they may be called flying flowers; and indeed they + are always produced in the finest flower-gardens.”—_Dunn._ + +Footnote 357: + + p. 310.—_The features of young Arab maids._ + + “The Arabian women wear black masks with little clasps prettily + ordered.”—_Carreri._ Niebuhr mentions their showing but one eye in + conversation. + +Footnote 358: + + p. 311.—_On_ CASBIN’S _hills._ + + “The golden grapes of Casbin.”—_Description of Persia._ + +Footnote 359: + + p. 311.—_And sunniest apples that Caubul_— + + “The fruits exported from Caubul are apples, pears, pomegranates,” + &c.—_Elphinstone._ + +Footnote 360: + + p. 311.—_in all its thousand gardens bears._ + + “We sat down under a tree, listened to the birds, and talked with the + son of our Mehmaundar about our country and Caubul, of which he gave + an enchanting account: that city and its 100,000 gardens,” &c.—_Id._ + +Footnote 361: + + p. 311.—MALAYA’S _nectar’d mangusteen._ + + “The mangusteen, the most delicate fruit in the world; the pride of + the Malay islands.”—_Marsden._ + +Footnote 362: + + p. 311.—_Seed of the Sun, from_ IRAN’S _land._ + + “A delicious kind of apricot, called by the Persians tokm-ek-shems, + signifying sun’s seed.”—_Description of Persia._ + +Footnote 363: + + p. 311.—_With rich conserve of Visna cherries._ + + “Sweetmeats, in a crystal cup, consisting of rose-leaves in conserve, + with lemon of Visna cherry orange flowers,” &c.—_Russel._ + +Footnote 364: + + p. 311.—_Feed on in Erac’s rocky dells._ + + “Antelopes, cropping the fresh berries of Erac.”—The _Moallakat_, Poem + of Tarafa. + +Footnote 365: + + p. 311.—_And urns of porcelain from that isle._ + + Mauri-ga-Sima, an island near Formosa, supposed to have been sunk in + the sea for the crimes of its inhabitants. The vessels which the + fishermen and divers bring up from it are sold at an immense price in + China and Japan.—See _Kæmpfer_. + +Footnote 366: + + p. 312.—_Amber Rosolli._—Persian Tales. + +Footnote 367: + + p. 312.—_From vineyards of the Green-Sea gushing._ + + The white wine of Kishma. + +Footnote 368: + + p. 312.—_Offer’d a city’s wealth._ + + “The King of Zeilan is said to have the very finest ruby that was ever + seen. Kublai-Khan sent and offered the value of a city for it, but the + King answered he would not give it for the treasure of the + world.”—_Marco Polo._ + +Footnote 369: + + p. 312.—_Upon a rosy lotus wreath._ + + The Indians feign that Cupid was first seen floating down the Ganges + on the Nymphæa Nelumbo.—See _Pennant_. + +Footnote 370: + + p. 312.—_When warm they rise from Teflis’ brooks._ + + Teflis is celebrated for its natural warm baths.—See _Ebn Haukal_. + +Footnote 371: + + p. 312.—_Of a syrinda._ + + “The Indian Syrinda, or guitar.”—_Symez._ + +Footnote 372: + + p. 313.—_It is this, it is this._ + + “Around the exterior of the Dewan Khafs (a building of Shah Allum’s) + in the cornice are the following lines in letters of gold upon a + ground of white marble:—‘_If there be a paradise upon earth, it is + this, it is this._’”—_Franklin._ + +Footnote 373: + + p. 313.—_As the flower of the Amra just op’d by a bee._ + + “Delightful are the flowers of the Amra trees on the mountain-tops, + while the murmuring bees pursue their voluptuous toil.”—_Song of + Jayadeva._ + +Footnote 374: + + p. 314.—_And precious their tears as that rain from the sky._ + + “The Nisan or drops of spring rain, which they believe to produce + pearls if they fall into shells.”—_Richardson._ + +Footnote 375: + + p. 314.—_Who for wine of this earth left the fountains above._ + + For an account of the share which wine had in the fall of the angels, + see _Mariti_. + +Footnote 376: + + p. 314.—_Of_ ISRAFIL, _the Angel, there._ + + The Angel of Music. See note 293. + +Footnote 377: + + p. 318.—_When first ’tis by the lapwing found._ + + The Hudhud, or Lapwing, is supposed to have the power of discovering + water under ground. + +Footnote 378: + + p. 321.—_Of her dream._—See p. 215. + +Footnote 379: + + p. 322.—_Like that painted porcelain._ “The Chinese had formerly the + art of painting on the sides of porcelain vessels fish and other + animals, which were only perceptible when the vessel was full of some + liquor. They call this species Kia-tsin, that is, _azure is put in + press_, on account of the manner in which the azure is laid on.”—“They + are every now and then trying to recover the art of this magical + painting, but to no purpose.”—_Dunn._ + +Footnote 380: + + p. 323.—_House of Azor._—An eminent carver of idols, said in the Koran + to be father to Abraham. “I have such a lovely idol as is not to be + met with in the house of Azor.”—_Hafiz._ + +Footnote 381: + + p. 323.—_The Unequalled._—Kachmire be Nazeer.—_Forster._ + +Footnote 382: + + p. 324.—_Miraculous fountains._—“The pardonable superstition of the + sequestered inhabitants has multiplied the places of worship of + Mahadeo, of Beschan, and of Brama. All Cashmere is holy land, and + miraculous fountains abound.”—_Major Rennel_’s Memoirs of a Map of + Hindostan. + + Jehanguire mentions “a fountain in Cashmere called Tirnagh, which + signifies a snake; probably because some large snake had formerly been + seen there.”—“During the lifetime of my father, I went twice to this + fountain, which is about twenty coss from the city of Cashmere. The + vestiges of places of worship and sanctity are to be traced without + number amongst the ruins and the caves, which are interspersed in its + neighbourhood.”—_Toozek Jehangeery._—Vide _Asiat. Misc._ vol. ii. + + There is another account of Cashmere by Abul-Fazil, the author of the + Ayin-Acbaree, “who,” says _Major Rennel_, “appears to have caught some + of the enthusiasm of the valley, by his description of the holy places + in it.” + +Footnote 383: + + p. 324.—_Roofed with flowers._—“On a standing roof of wood is laid a + covering of fine earth, which shelters the building from the great + quantity of snow that falls in the winter season. This fence + communicates an equal warmth in winter, as a refreshing coolness in + the summer season, when the tops of the houses, which are planted with + a variety of flowers, exhibit at a distance the spacious view of a + beautifully chequered parterre.”—_Forster._ + +Footnote 384: + + p. 324.—_The triple-coloured tortoise-shell of Pegu._—“Two hundred + slaves there are, who have no other office than to hunt the woods and + marshes for triple-coloured tortoises for the King’s Vivary. Of the + shells of these also lanterns are made.”—_Vincent le Blanc_’s Travels. + +Footnote 385: + + p. 325.—_Like the meteors of the north as they are seen by those + hunters._—For a description of the Aurora Borealis as it appears to + these hunters, vide _Encyclopædia_. + +Footnote 386: + + p. 325.—_Odoriferous wind._—This wind, which is to blow from Syria + Damascena, is, according to the Mahometans, one of the signs of the + Last Day’s approach. + + Another of the signs is, “Great distress in the world, so that a man + when he passes by another’s grave shall say, ‘Would to God I were in + his place!’”—_Sale_’s Preliminary Discourse. + +Footnote 387: + + p. 328.—_As precious as the Cerulean Throne of Coolburga._—“On + Mahommed Shaw’s return to Koolburga (the capital of Dekkan), he made a + great festival, and mounted this throne with much pomp and + magnificence, calling it Firozeh, or Cerulean. I have heard some old + persons, who saw the throne Firozeh in the reign of Sultan Mamood + Bhamenee, describe it. They say that it was in length nine feet, and + three in breadth; made of ebony, covered with plates of pure gold, and + set with precious stones of immense value. Every prince of the house + of Bhamenee, who possessed this throne, made a point of adding to it + some rich stones; so that when in the reign of Sultan Mamood it was + taken to pieces, to remove some of the jewels to be set in vases and + cups, the jewellers valued it at one corore of oons (nearly four + millions sterling). I learned also that it was called Firozeh from + being partly enamelled of a sky-blue colour, which was in time totally + concealed by the number of jewels.”—_Ferishta._ + + + THE END. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + LONDON: + PRINTED BY RICHARD CLAY, + BREAD STREET HILL. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + POETICAL WORKS OF THOMAS MOORE. + THE ONLY COMPLETE EDITIONS. + + + s. d. + LALLA ROOKH, 32mo. from ruby type, with Frontispiece 1 0 + LALLA ROOKH, 16mo. with a Vignette on Wood 2 6 + LALLA ROOKH, square crown 8vo. with 13 Steel Plates 15 0 + IRISH MELODIES, 32mo. from ruby type, with Portrait 1 0 + IRISH MELODIES, 16mo. with a Vignette on Wood 2 6 + IRISH MELODIES, square crown 8vo. with 13 Steel Plates 21 0 + IRISH MELODIES, illustrated by Maclise, super-royal 8vo 31 6 + SONGS, BALLADS, and SACRED SONGS, 32mo. ruby type 2 6 + SONGS, BALLADS, and SACRED SONGS, 16mo. 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LONGMAN and CO. + + + ILLUSTRATED WORKS, ADAPTED FOR PRESENTATION. + + LYRA GERMANICA. Woodcut Illustrations by JOHN LEIGHTON, 21 0 + F.S.A. + MORAL EMBLEMS, from CATS and FARLIE (by the same) 31 6 + BUNYAN’S PILGRIM’S PROGRESS, illustrated by C. BENNETT 21 0 + THOMSON’S SEASONS, illustrated by the ETCHING CLUB 21 0 + GOLDSMITH’S POEMS, illustrated by the ETCHING CLUB 21 0 + LORD MACAULAY’S LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME, illustrated by G. 21 0 + SCHARF + CALVERT’S WIFE’S MANUAL, ornamented by the Author 10 6 + CONYBEARE AND HOWSON’S ST. PAUL, 2 Vols. square crown 8vo. 31 6 + KÖNIG’S PICTORIAL LIFE OF LUTHER 28 0 + MRS. JAMESON’S LEGENDS OF THE SAINTS AND MARTYRS, 2 Vols. 31 6 + MRS. JAMESON’S LEGENDS OF THE MONASTIC ORDERS 28 0 + MRS. JAMESON’S LEGENDS OF THE MADONNA 28 0 + CRUIKSHANK’S LIFE OF SIR JOHN FALSTAFF 12 6 + MAXIMS OF THE SAVIOUR, illuminated by H. N. HUMPHREYS 10 6 + PARABLES OF OUR LORD, illuminated by H. N. HUMPHREYS 21 0 + MIRACLES OF OUR SAVIOUR, illuminated by H. N. HUMPHREYS 21 0 + SENTIMENTS AND SIMILES OF SHAKSPEARE, illuminated 21 0 + BOWDLER’S FAMILY SHAKSPEARE, complete in One Volume 21 0 + + + London: LONGMAN, GREEN, and CO. Paternoster Row. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + Transcriber’s Notes + + +This file uses _underscores_ to indicate italic text. + +In cases where it is not clear whether a stanza break occurred across a +page break, this edition follows the stanza breaks in the first edition +of 1817. Obvious typographical errors such as missing or mismatched +quotation marks were fixed on pages 77, 134, 183, 186, 342, 364, and +371, and the use of small caps in apostrophized words has been silently +standardized. Other inconsistencies in spelling, hyphenation, etc. have +not been corrected except as noted below. + +The formatting of the endnotes in the printed edition varies. In this +edition missing punctuation has been supplied and centered text has been +left justified, but paragraph breaks have not been standardized. The +page numbers given are those in the printed edition. + +Images have been moved to natural breaks in the printed text; however, +the printed page numbers in the Table of Illustrations have not been +changed. + +The illustrated title-page for the fourth section contains the drawn +text “The Light of the Harem;” however, in the Table of Contents and in +the story itself, the word is spelled “Haram.” + +Itemized changes from the original text: + + • p. xvi: Changed “aquaintance” to “acquaintance” in “a hasty renewal + of my acquaintance with it.” + • p. xvii n. iii: Changed “Jansenistes” to “jansénistes” in French + quotation. + • p. xxiii: Changed “Peri” to “Péri” in French quotation. + • p. 9: Added missing endnote reference 25 to poem title. + • p. 91: Changed “half way” to “half-way” in “souls but half-way + curst”. + • p. 212: Changed “e’er” to “ere” in “ere a drop of this night’s gore”. + • p. 218: Removed comma after “keen” from “With that keen second-scent + of death”. + • p. 230 and note 255: Changed “dark-sea robber’s way” to “dark + sea-robber’s way.” + • p. 251: Supplied missing indentation to match other public domain + editions. + • p. 334 n. 15: Changed “Hindostan” to “Hindoostan” in citation. + • p. 355: Corrected endnote number from 131 to 181. + • p. 366 n. 266: Changed “Bidmusk” to “Bid-musk” in head quote to match + main text; left as “Bidmusk” in quotation from cited text. + • p. 368 n. 279: Changed “lightning gem” to “lightning-gem” to match + main text. + • p. 371 n. 310: Changed “durée” to “duré” and “apperçût” to “apperçut” + in French quotation. + • p. 375: Corrected endnote number from 44 to 344. + • p. 379 n. 371: Changed “Symez” to “Symes”. + • p. 381 n. 386: Corrected nested quotation marks in endnote 386. + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76794 *** |