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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 exchanged 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 suus 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, muttering the sick man's name,
Just ere he dies,; at length, those sounds of dread
Fell withering 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 loved 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 blighted sunk 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 turn'd astray;— A wandering bark, upon whose pathway shone All stars of heaven, except the guiding one! Again she smiled, nay, much and brightly smiled, But it was a lustre, strange, unreal, wild; And when she sung to her lute's touching strain, T was like the notes, half ecstacy, half pain, The bulbul' 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 bless'd
With woman's smile, sought out its loveliest,
To grace that galaxy of lips and eyes,

Which the Veild Prophet destined for the skies!-
And such quick welcome as a spark receives
Dropp'd on a bed of autumn's wither'd 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;
Predestined bride, in heaven's eternal dome,

Of some brave youth-ha! durst they say « of some ?»
No-of the one, one only object traced

In her heart's core too deep to be effaced ;
The one whose memory, fresh as life, is twined
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!

The nightingale.

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 loved image, graven on thy heart,
Which would have saved 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 nursed
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 twined.
No art was spared, no witchery;-all the skill
His demons taught him was employ'd to fill
Her mind with gloom and ecstacy by turns→→
That gloom, through which Frenzy but fiercer burns;
That ecstacy, 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 breathed around,
Together picturing to her mind and ear

The glories of that heaven, her destined 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!—
'T was from a scene, a witching trance like this,
lle 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 crazed by dread,
Seem'd, through the bluish death-light round them cast,
To move their lips in mutterings as she pass'd—
There, in the awful place, when each had quaff'd
And pledged 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 framed,
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 believed, lost maid!—to Heaven; Her brain, her heart, her passions all inflamed, How proud she stood, when in full Haram named

eyes

The Priestess of the Faith!-how flash'd her
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 smiled,
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 cross'd
By glimpses of the heaven her heart had lost;
In every 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 changed From her who, some years since, delighted ranged 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 loved, And wept as dead, before her breathed and moved :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 lightHer beauteous Azim shone before her sight.

Oh 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 Unhoped-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 shoue; And then her oath-there madness lay again, And, shuddering, back she sunk into her chain Of mental darkness, as if bless'd 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 suminous proud and rare, which all but she, And she, till now, had heard with ecstacy), 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 retired 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-caverus 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 desperate 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 darkening trace
Would on that bosom he once loved remain,
But all be bright, be pure, be his again!--

These were the wildering dreams, whose cursed deceit
Had chain'd her soul beneath the tempter's feet,
And made her think even damuing 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, pondering alone his impious schemes, Mokanna waited her-too wrapt in dreams Of the fair-ripening future's rich success, To heed the sorrow, pale and spiritless, That sat upon his victims downeast 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 th' 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 Room,' 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 mused on there,
Stood vases, fill'd with Kishmee's golden wine,
And the red weepings of the Shiraz vine;
Of which his curtain'd lips full many a dranght
Took zealously, as if each drop they quaff'd,
Like Zemzem's Spring of Holiness, 3 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;-4
Ye creatures of a breath, proud things of clay,
To whom, if Lucifer, as grandams say,
Refused, though at the forfeit of Heaven's light,
To bend in worship, Lucifer was right!-
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-nursed loathing of man's name!--
Soon, at the head of myriads, blind and fierce
As hooded falcons, through the universe
I'll sweep my darkening, 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—
Ye shall have honours-wealth,-yes, siges, yes—
I know, grave fools, your wisdom's nothingness;
Undazzled it can track yon starry sphere,
But a gilt stick, a bauble 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!

a Ye too, believers of incredible creeds,
Whose faith inshrines 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, every thing-but true.
Your preaching zealots, too inspired 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:

1 The cities of Com (or Koom) and Cashan are full of mosques, mausoleums, and sepulchres of the descendants of Ali, the saints of Persia.-Cardin,

2 An island in the Persian Gulf, eelebrated for its white wine.

3 The miraculous well at Mecca, so called, says Sale, from the murmuring of its waters.

The god Hannaman.

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And
your state priests, sole venders of the lore
That works salvation;—as on Ava's shore,
Where none but priests are privileged to trade
In that best marble of which Gods are made;'-
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.»>-

по

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 't was 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 în its rosy beam Beyond the enthusiast's hope or Prophet's dream! Light of the Faith! who twinest 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 urnsNay, drink-in every drop life's essence burns; T will make that soul all fire, those eyes all lightCome, 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 god-like men

Thou'lt have to woo thee in the bowers above;

A kind of lautern formerly used by robbers, called the Hand of Though he, I fear, hath thoughts too stern for love,

Glory, the candle for which was made of the fat of a dead mal factor.

This, however, was rather a western than an eastern superstition.

1 Spurs's Ava, vol is p. 3-6

Too ruled by that cold enemy of bliss

The world calls Virtue-we must conquer this;-
Nay, shrink not, pretty sage; 't is 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 softening 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 practised 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 concenter'd pass,
Dazzling and warm, as through love's burning-glass;
Whose gentle lips persuade without a word,
Whose words, even when unmeaning, are adored,
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 refined 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

But swear to me this moment 't is 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 tires, 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-1 must be obey'd.»

«Obey'd―t is 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 witchery, 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 debased, 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

From which these words, like south-winds through a fence Could tempt or change me, and--so once thought I.

Of Kerzrah flowers, came fill'd with pestilence:

So boldly utter'd too! as if all dread

of frowns from her, of virtuous frowns, were fled,
And the wretch felt assured that, once plunged 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 loved-not him-oh! do but say,

1. It is commonly said, in Persia, that if a man breathe in the bot south-wand which in June or July passes over that flower, the Kerzerch,

it will kill him.. TarvENOS.

But this is past-though worse than death my lot,
Than hell-'t is 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 oue 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'stit-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 teazing hum
Within the crocodile's stretch'd jaws to come!1
And so thou 'It 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

The ancient story concerning the Trochilus, er humming bird, entering with impunity into the mouth of the crocodile, is firmly believed

at Jata.-BARROW Cochin-China.

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, 't is 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 depths, and roused an anger there, That burst and lighten'd even through her despair!-Shrunk back, as if a blight were in the breath

That spoke that word, and stagger'd, pale as death.

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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!

9

groves all round illuminated; some artists of Yamtcheou 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 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 any thing 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.

Without a moment's delay young Feramorz was in

That oath thou heard'st more lips than thine repeat-❘troduced, and Fadladeen, who could never make up

That cup-thou shudderest, lady-was it sweet?
That cup we pledged, the charnel's choicest wine,
Hath bound thee-aye-body and soul all mine;
Bound thee by chains that, whether bless'd 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!

« And, now thou see'st my soul's angelic hue, Tis time these features were uncurtain'd too;This brow, whose light-oh, rare celestial light! Hath been reserved to bless thy favour'd sight; These dazzling eyes, before whose shrouded might Thou 'st seen immortal Man kneel down and quakeWould 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 carth; 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

1 Cireum easdem ripas (Nili, viz.) ales est This. Fa serpentium populatur ova, gratissimamque ex his escam nidis suis refert.-DoLINU &

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 braved The bands of Greece, still mighty though enslaved: Hast faced 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 splendors, almost hid, Like swords half-sheathed, 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 wreathe 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 :-'

1, Thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes. -Sul. Song.

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