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"Now comes the brunt, the crisis of the day

They clash-they strive-the Caliph's troops give way."

Page 39

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And bid thee take thy weeping slave to Heaven!
Oh yes, I'll fly with thee

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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 ruined 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 echoed it-I hear them now!

Their eyes glared on me, while I pledged that bowl,
'Twas burning blood-I feel it in my soul!

And the Veiled Bridegroom--hist! I've seen to-night
What angels know not of-so foul a sight,
So horrible-oh! never mayst 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, * 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, whose employment seemed to them so strange that they stopped their palankeens to observe

"In the territory of Istkahar there is a kind of apple, half of which is sweet and half sour."-Ebn Haukal.

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