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 Beneath them from its onward track ;Some mighty, unseen barrier spurns The vexed tide, all foaming, back, Just then a day-beam, through the shade, Which suddenly around her glow'd, But soon this balmy freshness fled: Through damp and gloom-'mid crash of boughs, Who, starting, thinks each crag a prey, That rolls beneath the Bridge of Death! To gaze on those terrific things But fancy, thus in darkness thrown, Could frame more dreadful of her own. But does she dream? has Fear again Come from the gloom, low whispering near- Throughout the breathing world's extent Open her bosom's glowing veil,' And their fair land a wilderness! Which comes so fast-oh! who shall stay Of Persian hearts, or turn its way? Of sinners' hearts-guard him this night, Love, hope, remembrance, though they be 1 A frequent image among the oriental poets. "The nightingales warbled their enchanting notes, and rent the thin veils of the rose-bud and the rose."-Jami One wandering star of virtue back To its own native, heaven-ward track! And if he perish, both are lost!" FADLADEEN, whose wrath had more than once broken out during the recital of some parts of this most heterodox poem, seemed at length to have made up his mind to the infliction; and took his seat for the evening with all the patience of a martyr, while the Poet continued his profane and seditious story thus: And saw those towers, all desolate, That o'er her head terrific frown'd, 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 earStrange, mocking dream! again 'tis fled. THE next evening LALLA ROOKH was entreated And oh! the shoots, the pangs of dread by her ladies to continue the relation of her won-That through her inmost bosom run, derful dream; but the fearful interest that hung round When voices from without proclaim the fate of HINDA and her lover had completely re-"HAFED, the Chief!"-and, one by one, moved every trace of it from her mind;-much to The warriors shout that fearful name! the disappointment of a fair seer or two in her train, He comes-the rock resounds his treadwho prided themselves on their skill in interpreting How shall she dare to lift her head, visions, and who had already remarked, as an un- Or meet those eyes, whose scorching glare lucky omen, that the Princess, on the very morning Not YEMEN's boldest sons can bear? after the dream, had worn a silk dyed with the blos- In whose red beam, the Moslem tells, soms of the sorrowful tree, Nilica. Such rank and deadly lustre dwells, As in those hellish fires that light The mandrake's charnel leaves at night!! How shall she bear that voice's tone, At whose loud battle-cry alone Whole squadrons oft in panic ran, Scattered, 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 tearless eyes and hearts at ease At its calm setting-when the West 66 Had rush'd through KERMAN's almond groves, And shaken from her bowers of date That cooling feast the traveller loves,' Now, lull'd to languor, scarcely curl The Green Sea wave, whose waters gleam Were melted all to form the stream. That hang by spell-work in the air. In the fierce eyes that flash'd around; 1 "In parts of Keman, 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 Haukel. 2 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. To hide them on her Gheber's breast! Whose voice unnerves, whose glances blight,— Or like those verdant spots that bloom Sweetening the very edge of doom! "The Arabians call the mandrake the Devil's candle,' on account of its shining appearance in the night."—Rich ardson. E'en he, this youth—though dimm’d and gone To see the last, long-struggling breath Then lay him down, and share her deathE'en 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, That sink into her soul so deep, Or feels them like the wretch in sleep, Upon the mount's high, rocky verge, Where lightly o'er th' 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 Behind him, ere he wing'd his flight. Again, again her fear returns ;- More faintly the horizon burns, Fly, fly—if yet thou lov'st me, fly- 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. Beneath this morning's furious heaven? 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 th' unmanning sight no moreWhy 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- We stand above the jarring world, “ To-morrow !-10- His victim was my own lov'd youthFly-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, The trusting bosom, when betray'd. So amaz'd and motionless was he;- Of the still halls of ISHMONIE !! Why shoots his eyes such awful beams? But soon the painful chill was o'er, What plans he now? what thinks or dreams? And his great soul, herself once more, Alas ! why stands he musing here, Look'd from his brow in all the rays When every moment teams with fear? Of her best, happiest, grandest days ! “ HAFED, my own beloved lord,” Never, in moment most elate, She kneeling cries—"first, last ador'd! Did that high spirit loftier rise ;- If in that soul thou'st ever felt While bright, serene, determinate, Half what thy lips impassion'd swore, His looks are lifted to the skies, Here, on my knees, that never knelt As if the signal lights of Fate To any but their God before, Were shining in those awful eyes ! I pray thee, as thou lov'st me, fly'Tis come-his hour of martyrdom Now, now—ere yet their blades are nigh. In IRAN's sacred cause is come; Oh haste-the bark that bore me hither And though his life hath pass'd away Can waft us o'er yon darkening sea Like lightning on a stormy day, East-west-alas, I care not whither, Yet shall his death-hour leave a track So thou art safe, and I with thee! Of glory, permanent and bright, Go where we will, this hand in thine, To which the brave of aftertimes, Those eyes before me smiling thus, The suffering brave shall long look back Through good and ill, through storm and shine. With proud regret-and by its light The world 's a world of love for us ! Watch through the hours of slavery's night On some calm, blessed shore we'll dwell, For vengeance on th' oppressor's crimes ! Where 'tis no crime to love too well; This rock, his monument aloft, Where thus to worship tenderly Shall speak the tale to many an age; An erring child of light like thee And hither bards and heroes oft Will not be sin—or, if it be, Shall come in secret pilgrimage, Where we may weep our faults away, And bring their warrior sons, and tell Together kneeling, night and day, The wondering boys where HAFED fell, Thou, for my sake, at Alla's shrine, And I-at any God's for thine !" Wildly those passionate words she spoke Within them-never to forgive Then hung her head, and wept for shame · Th' accursed race, whose ruthless chain Sobbing, as if a heart-string broke Hath left on Iran's neck a stain, With every deep-heav'd sob that came. Blood, blood alone can cleanse again! While he, young, warm-oh! wonder not If, for a moment, pride and fame, Such are the swelling thoughts that now His oath-his cause--that shrine of flame, Enthrone themselves on HAFED's brow : And Iran's self are all forgot And ne'er did Saint of Issa? gaze For her whom at his feet he sees, On the red wreath, for martyrs twin'd, Kneeling in speechless agonies. More proudly than the youth surveys No, blame him not, if Hope awhile That pile, which through the gloom behind, Dawn'd in his soul, and threw her smile Half lighted by the altar's fire, O'er hours to come-o'er days and nights Glimmers,—his destin'd funeral pyre! Wing'd with those precious, pure delights Heap'd by his own, his comrade's hands, Which she, who bends all beauteous there, Of every wood of odorous breath, Was born to kindle and to share ! There, by the Fire-god's shrine it stands, A tear or two, which, as he bow'd Ready to fold in radiant death To raise the suppliant, trembling stole, The few still left of those who swore First warn'd him of this dangerous cloud To perish there, when hope was o'er Of softness passing o'er his soul. The few, to whom that couch of flame, Starting, he brush'd the drops away, Which rescues them from bonds and shame, Unworthy o'er that cheek to stray ;-) Is sweet and welcome as the bed Like one who, on the morn of fight, For their own infant Prophet spread, Shakes from his sword the dews of night, When pitying Heav'n to roses turn'd That had but dimm'd, not stain'd its light. The death-flames that beneath him burn'd !? Yet, though subdued th' unnerving thrill, With watchfulness the maid attends Its warmth, its weakness linger'd still His rapid glance, where'er it bends So touching in each look and tone, 1 For an account of Ishmonie, the petrified city in Upper That the fond, fearing, hoping maid Egypt, where it is said there are many statues of men, Half counted on the flight she pray'd, women, etc. to be seen to this day, see Perry's View of the Levant. Half thought the hero's soul was grown 2 Jesus. As soft, as yielding as her own; 3 “The Ghebers say, that when Abraham, their great And smil'd and bless'd him, while he said, Prophet, was thrown into the fire by order of Nimrod, the “ Yes if there be some happier sphere, flame turned instantly into a bed of roses, where the child sweetly reposed."-Tavernier. Where fadeless truth like ours is daarom 'Twas joy, she thought, joy's mute excess- "Haste, haste!" she cried "the clouds grow dark, As some dark vanish'd dream of sleep! If there be any land of rest For those who love and ne'er forget, Of Moorish zel and tymbalon, Of their long lances in the sun- How fall'n, how alter'd now! how wan To light their torches as they pass'd! And lay it at her trembling feet;- Gives hope-so fondly hope can err ! 2"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 Oh! stay-one moment is not much; In wild lamentings, that would touch 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, By the cold moon have just consign'd To the bleak flood they leave behind; 1"The Angel Israfil, who has the most melodious of all God's creatures."-Sale. |