Page images
PDF
EPUB

Vast pile our ancestry once dared to raise
In old Chaldea, whence they met the wrath
Of God, and nature's own sweet language fled
The lips of men for ever.-Silence reigned;
And glimmering darkness in the middle air
Brooded, but shifting aye her shadowy wings,
Let horror creep between, and doubtful light;
And chill, sepulchral airs, that had no sound,
Touched the pale cheek of young Nouronihar:
And Vathek felt his heart grow cold, and stayed
His breath to listen, and he grasped hard
Her trembling hand for mere companionship.

The stars now shone anew; and right against
The palace, carved curiously, were seen
Leopards and winged hyppogriffs, and shapes
Unknown but to the bottoms of the deep,
And there, by all sea-monsters that we fear,
Dreaded, and left alone; above these forms
Were traced mysterious characters, that did yield
A welcome to the pair. Scarce had they read
When from amongst the ruins came a sound
Like anguish, and the yawning ground gave out
Blue subterranean fires, that shewed a door
Whose barred labyrinths led to Hell. There stood
The dwarfed Indian, grinning like a fiend:

6

"Welcome!' he cried, Both welcome! Ye are come To see the Prince of morning! Ye deserve

To see, and ye shall see him.' Then he touched

The charmed lock, 'round which, invisibly,

A hundred watchful demons wheeled, and kept
Sacred the homes of starry Eblis.-Wide
It opened with a horrid sound, and shut
(When Vathek and his bride had entered there)
'Midst laughs, and shrieks exulting, like the noise
Of mountainous thunder, or the withering voice
Of him who from Vesuvius calls abroad

In madness, and casts out his blazing foam
Like rivers toward the sea.--

At last they saw

The Hall of Eblis: vaulted 'twas and high
So none might mark the roofs! The pillars that
Stood like supporting giants, verged away
In long innumerable avenues, but
Met at a point bright as the sun, when he
Looks flaming on the sands of Palestine.
Each column bore a different character,
And by the lambent flames that played about
Like snakes, and pointed their ethereal spires
Towards the stupendous capitals (which seemed
Wrought in the finer times of Greece, when men
Struck armed Pallas from a senseless stone
To life, and shaped those matchless Deities,
Venus, and stern Apollo, and the rest)

Strange letters might be seen-their import known
To none but the immortals. The sad pair
Traversed a scene of luxury and woe;

They trod on gold and flowers, while from the ground
Voluptuous odours steamed, whose breath was sweet
As hers whom story fabled once the queen

Of beauty; there saffron, and citron boughs,
Cedar, and sweet perfuming sandal woods
Were burning; and distilled and fragrant waters
Sparkled in crystal;—but around them stalked
Figures like men-all silent-with despair
On every face, and each did press his hand
Against his heart, and shunned his fellow wretch.

Upon a globe of fire sat Eblis. He

Was prince of all the spirits that rebelled
'Gainst God and met perdition. He was young
Still; and, but that some pride burned in his eye,
You might have pitied him. His flowing hair,
Streaming like sunbeams, told he must have been
An angel once, and fair, and beautiful;
Nay, in his fallen station, he retained
A relic of his old nobility:

And though he fell, you would have said he fell

For aiming at a world. 'Creatures,' he said,
'Creatures of clay! I number ye amongst
My subjects and adorers: Live ye here
For ever, and for ever.'-Then his orb,
Receding from the presence of the damned,
Shrunk to a point of light, and as it shrunk
The hearts of his believers withered, and burned
Internally (as he had left behind

A portion of his fire)-and on their souls
Came darkness and dismay: and all knew then
The unconsuming flame was come; and each
Hated himself and fellow. Thus they lived
For ages and for ages, a sad prey

To fires perpetual-and endless fear-
Sorrow although they loved not-hot desires,
That never could be quelled-hunger and thirst-
Fierce jealousy-and groundless doubt-and hate-
And blasting envy-and ('midst other ills)
Sense of contempt in others.-Thus they lived:
And not one creature ever after knew

What 'twas to hope.

Literary Gazette.

A REFLECTION.

LIKE some faint light that shines along the deep,
Joy to the watchful-peace to those who sleep-
Its blaze expanding, as each heart draws near
The home where sparkles every smile that's dear,
'Till from its splendour, welcomed in at last—
Fades all reflection on the gloomy past!

So in its birth glows man's pale beam of life,
The spark of sorrow, then the flame of strife-
Dazzling awhile, until its glare be spent

a

On thoughts of madness, and of dark intent ;—
Next,-
bright beacon on his troubled sea-
Bursting at length into Eternity!

B.

WRITTEN IN THE CHURCH-YARD OF RICHMOND,

YORKSHIRE.

BY HERBERT KNOWLES.

It is good for us to be here: if thou wilt, let us make here three Tabernacles, one for thee, one for Moses, and one for Elias.

METHINKS it is good to be here,

If thou wilt let us build-but for whom?
Nor Elias nor Moses appear;

ST. MATTHEW.

But the shadows of Eve that encompass with gloom
The abode of the dead and the place of the tomb.

Shall we build to Ambition? Ah no!
Affrighted, he shrinketh away,—

For see, they would pin him below

In a dark narrow cave, and, begirt with cold clay,
To the meanest of reptiles a peer and a prey.

To Beauty? Ah no! she forgets
The charms which She wielded before;

Nor knows the foul worm that he frets

The skin that but yesterday fools could adore,

For the smoothness it held, or the tint which it wore.

Shall we build to the purple of Pride,

The trappings which dizen the proud?

Alas! they are all laid aside,

And here's neither dress nor adornment allowed

Save the long winding-sheet and the fringe of the shroud.

To Riches? Alas, 'tis in vain ;

Who hid in their turns have been hid;

The treasures are squandered again;

And here in the grave are all metals forbid

Save the tinsel that shines on the dark coffin lid.

To the pleasures which Mirth can afford,
The revel, the laugh, and the jeer?

Ah! here is a plentiful board!

But the guests are all mute as their pitiful cheer,
And none but the worm is a reveller here.

Shall we build to Affection and Love?

Ah, no! They have withered and died,
Or fled with the spirit above:

Friends, brothers and sisters, are laid side by side,
Yet none have saluted, and none have replied.

Unto Sorrow?-The dead cannot grieve;
Not a sob, not a sigh meets mine ear,

Which Compassion itself could relieve.

Ah sweetly they slumber, nor love, hope, or fear,
Peace! peace! is the watchword, the only one here.

Unto Death, to whom monarchs must bow?
Ah, no! for his empire is known,

And here there are trophies enow!

Beneath the cold head, and around the dark stone,
Are the signs of a sceptre that none may disown.

The first tabernacle to Hope we will build,
And look for the sleepers around us to rise!

The second to Faith, which ensures it fulfilled;

And the third to the Lamb of the great sacrifice,

Who bequeathed us them both when he rose to the skies. Carlisle's Grammar Schools.

EPITAPH

ON AN IDEOT GIRL.

If the innocent are favourites of Heaven;-
And God but little asks where little's given,
Thy great Creator hath for thee in store
Eternal joys. What wise man can have more?

« PreviousContinue »