Save what the father must not say Who shrived him on his dying day:

This broken tale was all we knew
Of her he loved, or him he slew. (1)

and, as Mr. Weber justly entitles it, "sublime tale," the Caliph
Vathek. I do not know from what source the author of that
singular volume may have drawn his materials; some of his inci-
dents are to be found in the Bibliothèque Orieniale; but for
correctness of costume, beauty of description, and power of ima-
gination, it far surpasses all European imitations; and bears such
marks of originality, that those who have visited the East will
find some difliculty in believing it to be more than a translation.
As an Eastern tale, even Rasselas must bow before it; his "Happy
Valley" will not bear a comparison with the "Hall of Eblis."
(1) This poem, was published after the two first cantos of Childe
Harold."-E.

BYRON.

CANTO I.

1.

KNOW ye the land where the cypress and myrtle (2) Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime, Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime? Know ye the land of the cedar and vine,

Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppress'd with

perfume,

Wax faint o'er the gardens of gul (3) in her bloom;
Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit,
And the voice of the nightingale never is mute:
Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the
sky,

In colour though varied, in beauty may vie,
And the purple of Ocean is deepest in dye;

(1) The Bride of Abydos was published in the beginning of December, 1813. The mood of mind in which it was struck off is thus stated by Lord Byron, in a letter to Mr. Gifford :-"You have been good enough to look at a thing of mine in MS.-a Turkish story-and I should feel gratified if you would do it the same favour in its probationary state of printing. It was written, I cannot say for amusement, nor obliged by hunger and request of friends,' but in a state of mind, from circumstances which occasionally occur tous youth,' that rendered it necessary for me to apply my mind to something, any thing, but reality; and under this not very brilliant inspiration it was composed. Send it either to the flames, or

A hundred hawkers' load,
On wings of winds to fly or fall abroad.'

It deserves no better than the first, as the work of a week, and scribbled 'stans pede in uno' (by the by, the only foot I have to

And all, save the spirit of man, is divine?

stand on); and I promise never to trouble you again under forty cantos, and a voyage between each.”—E.

"Murray tells me that Croker asked him 'why the thing is called the Bride of Abydos?' It is an awkward question, being unanswerable: she is not a bride; only about to be one. I don't wonder at his finding out the bull; but the detection is too late to do any good. I was a great fool to have made it, and am ashamed of not being an Irishman." B. Diary, Dec. 6, 1813. (2) To the Bride of Abydos, Lord Byron made many additions during its progress through the press, amounting to about two hundred lines; and, as in the case of the Giaour, the passages so added will be seen to be some of the most splendid in the whole poem. These opening lines, which are among the new insertions, are supposed to have been suggested by a song of Goethe's"Kennst du das land wo die citronen blühn.”—E. (3) "Gul," the rose.

'Tis the clime of the East; 't is the land of the sunCan he smile on such deeds as his children have done?(1)

Oh! wild as the accents of lovers' farewell

Are the hearts which they bear, and the tales which they tell.

II.

Begirt with many a gallant slave,
Apparell❜d as becomes the brave,
Awaiting each his lord's behest
To guide his steps, or guard his rest,
Old Giaffir sate in his divan:

Deep thought was in his aged eye;
And though the face of Mussulman

Not oft betrays to standers by The mind within, well skill'd to hide All but unconquerable pride,

His pensive cheek and pondering brow Did more than he was wont avow.

III.

"Let the chamber be clear'd."-The train disap

pear'd

"Now call me the chief of the haram guard." With Giaffir is none but his only son,

And the Nubian awaiting the sire's award.
"Haroun-when all the crowd that wait
Are pass'd beyond the outer gate,
(Woe to the head whose eye beheld
My child Zuleika's face unveil'd!)
Hence, lead my daughter from her tower;
Her fate is fix'd this very hour:
Yet not to her repeat my thought;
By me alone be duty taught!"
"Pacha! to hear is to obey."
No more must slave to despot say—
Then to the tower had ta'en his way,
But here young Selim silence brake,

First lowly rendering reverence meet;
And downcast look'd, and gently spake,
Still standing at the Pacha's feet:
For son of Moslem must expire,
Ere dare to sit before his sire!
"Father! for fear that thou shouldst chide
My sister, or her sable guide,
Know-for the fault, if fault there be,
Was mine, then fall thy frowns on me.-
So lovelily the morning shone,

That-let the old and weary sleep-
I could not; and to view alone

The fairest scenes of land and deep,
With none to listen and reply

To thoughts with which my heart beat high

(1) "Souls made of fire, and children of the Sun,

With whom revenge is virtue."

Young's Revenge.

Were irksome for whate'er my mood,
In sooth I love not solitude;

I on Zuleika's slumber broke,

And, as thou knowest that for me Soon turns the haram's grating key, Before the guardian slaves awoke We to the cypress groves had flown, And made earth, main, and heaven our own! There linger'd we, beguiled too long With Mejnoun's tale, or Sadi's song; (2) Till I, who heard the deep tambour (3, Beat thy divan's approaching hour, To thee, and to my duty true, Warn'd by the sound, to greet thee flew : But there Zuleika wanders yetNay, father, rage not-nor forget That none can pierce that secret bower But those who watch the women's tower." IV.

"Son of a slave !"-the Pacha said-
"From unbelieving mother bred,

Vain were a father's hope to see
Aught that beseems a man in thee.

Thou, when thine arm should bend the bow,
And hurl the dart, and curb the steed,
Thou, Greek in soul if not in creed,
Must pore where babbling waters flow,
And watch unfolding roses blow.
Would that yon orb, whose matin glow
Thy listless eyes so much admire,
Would lend thee something of his fire!
Thou who wouldst see this battlement
By Christian cannon piecemeal rent;
Nay, tamely view old Stambol's wall
Before the dogs of Moscow fall,
Nor strike one stroke for life and death
Against the curs of Nazareth!
Go-let thy less than woman's hand
Assume the distaff-not the brand.
But, Haroun !-to my daughter speed:
And hark-of thine own head take heed-
If thus Zuleika oft takes wing-

Thou see'st yon bow-it hath a string!"

V.

No sound from Selim's lip was heard,
At least that met old Giaffir's ear,
But every frown and every word
Pierced keener than a Christian's sword.
"Son of a slave!-reproach'd with fear!
Those gibes had cost another dear.
Son of a slave!-and who my sire ?"

Thus held his thoughts their dark career;

(2) Mejnoun and Leila, the Romeo and Juliet of the East. Sadi, the moral poet of Persia.

(3) Tambour, Turkish drum, which sounds at sunrise, noon, and twilight.

And glances even of more than ire
Flash forth, then faintly disappear.
Old Giaffir gazed upon his son

And started; for within his eye

He read how much his wrath had done;
He saw rebellion there begun :

"Come hither, boy-what, no reply?
I mark thee-and I know thee too;
But there be deeds thou darest not do:
But if thy beard had manlier length,
And if thy hand had skill and strength,
I'd joy to see thee break a lance,
Albeit against my own perchance!"
As sneeringly these accents fell,
On Selim's eye he fiercely gazed:

That eye return'd him glance for glance, And proudly to his sire's was raised,

Till Giaffir's quail'd and shrunk askanceAnd why—he felt, but durst not tell. "Much 1 misdoubt this wayward boy Will one day work me more annoy: I never loved him from his birth, And-but his arm is little worth, And scarcely in the chase could cope With timid fawn or antelope, Far less would venture into strife Where man contends for fame and lifeI would not trust that look or tone: No-nor the blood so near my own. That blood-he hath not heard-no moreI'll watch him closer than before. He is an Arab (1) to my sight, Or Christian crouching in the fightBut hark!-I hear Zuleika's voice;

Like houris' hymn it meets mine ear: She is the offspring of my choice;

Oh! more than even her mother dear,
With all to hope, and nought to fear-
My Peri! ever welcome here!

Sweet as the desert fountain's wave
To lips just cool'd in time to save—

Such to my longing sight art thou;
Nor can they waft to Mecca's shrine
More thanks for life, than I for thine,

Who blest thy birth, and bless thee now."

VI.

Fair as the first that fell of womankind,

When on that dread yet lovely serpent smiling, Whose image then was stamp'd upon her mindBut once beguiled-and ever more beguiling; Dazzling, as that, oh! too transcendent vision

To sorrow's phantom-peopled slumber given, When heart meets heart again in dreams Elysian,

And paints the lost on earth revived in heaven; Soft, as the memory of buried love;

Pure, as the prayer which Childhood wafts above;
Was she-the daughter of that rude old chief,
Who met the maid with tears-but not of grief.
Who hath not proved how feebly words essay (2)
To fix one spark of Beauty's heavenly ray?
Who doth not feel, until his failing sight
Faints into dimness with its own delight,
His changing cheek, his sinking heart confess
The might the majesty of Loveliness?
Such was Zuleika-such around her shone
The nameless charms unmark'd by her alone;
The light of love, the purity of grace,
The mind, the music (3) breathing from her face,
The heart whose softness harmonised the whole-
And, oh! that eye was in itself a soul!

Her graceful arms in meekness bending
Across her gently-budding breast;
At one kind word those arms extending
To clasp the neck of him who blest
His child caressing and carest,
Zuleika came-and Giaffir felt
His purpose half within him melt:
Not that against her fancied weal

His heart, though stern, could ever feel;
Affection chain'd her to that heart,
Ambition tore the links apart,

VII.

"Zuleika! child of gentleness!
How dear this very day must tell,
When I forget my own distress,
In losing what I love so well,
To bid thee with another dwell:
Another! and a braver man
Was never seen in battle's van.

We Moslem reck not much of blood;

But yet the line of Carasman (1) Unchanged, unchangeable hath stood First of the bold Timariot bands

That won and well can keep their lands. Enough that he who comes to woo Is kinsman of the Bey Oglou : His years need scarce a thought employ; I would not have thee wed a boy. And thou shalt have a noble dower: And his and my united power Will laugh to scorn the death-firman, Which others tremble but to scan, And teach the messenger (2) what fate The bearer of such boon may wait. And now thou know'st thy father's will; All that thy sex hath need to know: 'T was mine to teach obedience stillThe way to love thy lord may show."

VIII.

In silence bow'd the virgin's head;
And if her eye was fill'd with tears
That stifled feeling dare not shed,
And changed her cheek from pale to red,

And red to pale, as through her ears
Those winged words like arrows sped,
What could such be but maiden fears?

So bright the tear in Beauty's eye,
Love half regrets to kiss it dry;
So sweet the blush of Bashfulness,
Even Pity scarce can wish it less!
Whate'er it was, the sire forgot;
Or, if remember'd, mark'd it not;

Thrice clapp'd his hands, and call'd his steed,(3)
Resign'd his gem-adorn'd chibouque, (4)

And mounting featly for the mead,
With Maugrabee (5) and Mamaluke,
His way amid his delis took, (6)

To witness many an active deed

With sabre keen, or blunt jerreed.

reason, after all, and perhaps the only one." B. Diary, Dec. 7,

1813.

(1) Carasman Oglou, or Kara Osman Oglou, is the principal landholder in Turkey; he governs Magnesia: those who, by a kind of feudal tenure, possess land on condition of service, are called Timariots: they serve as Spahis, according to the extent of territory, and bring a certain number into the field, generally cavalry.

(2) When a pacha is sufficiently strong to resist, the single messenger, who is always the first bearer of the order for his death, is strangled instead, and sometimes five or six, one after the other, on the same errand, by command of the refractory patient; if, on the contrary, he is weak or loyal, he bows, kisses the sultan's respectable signature, and is bowstrung with great complacency. In 1810, several of these presents were exhibited in the niche of the Seraglio gate; among others, the head of the Pacha of Bagdat, a brave young man, cut off by treachery, after a desperate resistance.

(3) Clapping of the hands calls the servants. The Turks hate a superfluous expenditure of voice, and they have no bells.

The Kislar only and his Moors
Watch well the haram's massy doors.
IX.

His head was leant upon his hand,

His eye look'd o'er the dark blue water
That swiftly glides and gently swells
Between the winding Dardanelles;
But yet he saw nor sea nor strand,
Nor even his Pacha's turban'd band

Mix in the game of mimic slaughter,
Careering cleave the folded felt (7)
With sabre-stroke right sharply dealt;
Nor mark'd the javelin-darting crowd,
Nor heard their Ollahs (8) wild and loud-
He thought but of old Giaffir's daughter!
X.

No word from Selim's bosom broke;
One sigh Zuleika's thought bespoke :
Still gazed he through the lattice-grate,
Pale, mute, and mournfully sedate.
To him Zuleika's eye was turn'd,
But little from his aspect learn'd:
Equal her grief, yet not the same;
Her heart confess'd a gentler flame:
But yet that heart, alarm'd or weak,
She knew not why, forbade to speak,
Yet speak she must-but when essay?
"How strange he thus should turn away!
Not thus we e'er before have met;
Not thus shall be our parting yet."
Thrice paced she slowly through the room,
And watch'd his eye-it still was fix'd:
She snatch'd the urn wherein was mix'd
The Persian Atar-gul's (9) perfume,

And sprinkled all its odours o'er

The pictured roof (10) and marble floor:
The drops, that through his glittering vest
The playful girl's appeal address'd,
Unheeded o'er his bosom flew,

As if that breast were marble too.
"What! sullen yet? it must not be—

(4) "Chibouque," the Turkish pipe, of which the amber mouthpiece, and sometimes the ball which contains the leaf, is adorned with precious stones, if in possession of the wealthier orders. (5) "Maugrabee," Moorish mercenaries.

(6) "Delis," bravos who form the forlorn hope of the cavalry, and always begin the action.

(7) A twisted fold of felt is used for scimitar practice by the Turks, and few but Mussulman arms can cut through it at a single stroke: sometimes a tough turban is used for the same purpose. The jerreed is a game of blunt javelins, animated and graceful. (8) "Ollahs," Alla il Allah, the "Lelies," as the Spanish poets call them, the sound is Ollah; a cry of which the Turks, for a silent people, are somewhat profuse, particularly during the jerreed, or in the chase, but mostly in battle. Their animation in the field, and gravity in the chamber, with their pipes and comboloios, form an amusing contrast.

(9) "Atar-gul," ottar of roses. The Persian is the finest.

(10) The ceiling and wainscots, or rather walls, of the Mussulman apartments, are generally painted, in great houses, with

O gentle Selim, this from thee!"

She saw in curious order set

The fairest flowers of eastern land"He loved them once; may touch them yet, If offer'd by Zuleika's hand."

The childish thought was hardly breathed
Before the rose was pluck'd and wreathed;
The next fond moment saw her seat
Her fairy form at Selim's feet:
"This rose, to calm my brother's cares,
A message from the bulbul (1) bears;
It says to-night he will prolong
For Selim's ear his sweetest song;

And though his note is somewhat sad,
He'll try for once a strain more glad,
With some faint hope his alter'd lay
May sing these gloomy thoughts away.
XI.

"What! not receive my foolish flower?
Nay then I am indeed unblest:
On me can thus thy forehead lower?

And know'st thou not who loves thee best!
Oh, Selim dear! oh, more than dearest!
Say, is it me thou hatest or fearest ?
Come, lay thy head upon my breast,
And I will kiss thee into rest,

Since words of mine, and songs must fail,
Even from my fabled nightingale.
I knew our sire at times was stern,
But this from thee had yet to learn:
Too well I know he loves thee not;
But is Zuleika's love forgot?

Ah! deem I right? the Pacha's plan-
This kinsman Bey of Carasman
Perhaps may prove some foe of thine:
If so, I swear by Mecca's shrine,
If shrines that ne'er approach allow
To woman's step admit her vow,
Without thy free consent, command,
The Sultan should not have my hand!
Think'st thou that I could bear to part
With thee, and learn to halve my heart?
Ah! were I sever'd from thy side,
Where were thy friend-and who my guide!
Years have not seen, Time shall not see
The hour that tears my soul from thee:
Even Azrael, (2) from his deadly quiver
When flies that shaft, and fly it must,
That parts all else, shall doom for ever
Our hearts to undivided dust!"

XII.

He lived-he breathed-he moved-he felt! He raised the maid from where she knelt; His trance was gone—his keen eye shone With thoughts that long in darkness dwelt; With thoughts that burn-in rays that melt. As the stream late conceal'd

By the fringe of its willows, When it rushes reveal'd

In the light of its billows;

As the bolt bursts on high

From the black cloud that bound it,
Flash'd the soul of that eye

Through the long lashes round it.
A war-horse at the trumpet's sound,
A lion roused by heedless hound,
A tyrant waked to sudden strife
By graze of ill-directed knife,
Starts not to more convulsive life
Than he, who heard that vow, display'd,
And all, before repress'd, betray'd:

Now thou art mine, for ever mine,

With life to keep, and scarce with life resign;
Now thou art mine-that sacred oath,
Though sworn by one, hath bound us both.
Yes, fondly, wisely hast thou done;
That vow hath saved more heads than one;
But blench not thou-thy simplest tress
Claims more from me than tenderness;
I would not wrong the slenderest hair
That clusters round thy forehead fair,
For all the treasures buried far
Within the caves of Istakar. (3)
This morning clouds upon me lower'd,
Reproaches on my head were shower'd,
And Giaffir almost call'd me coward!
Now I have motive to be brave,
The son of his neglected slave,— ·
Nay, start not, 't was the term he gave,—
May show, though little apt to vaunt,
A heart his words nor deeds can daunt.
His son, indeed!-yet thanks to thee,
Perchance I am, at least shall be;
But let our plighted secret vow
Be only known to us as now.

I know the wretch who dares demand
From Giaffir thy reluctant hand;
More ill-got wealth, a meaner soul
Holds not a Musselim's (4) control:
Was he not bred in Egripo?(5)

mallem," etc. if Mr. Fox was mistaken.

(1) It has been much doubted whether the notes of this "Lover of the rose" are sad or merry; and Mr. Fox's remarks the subject have provoked some learned controversy as to the opinions of the ancients on the subject. I dare not venture

(2) "Azrael," the angel of death.

(3) The treasures of the pre-adamite Sultans. See D'Herbelot, article Istakar.

(4) "Musselim," a governor, the next in rank after a pacha; a waywode is the third; and then come the agas.

(8) "Egripo," the Negropont. According to the proverb, the