Burnell Htnueraity ffitibraty Stljara, Netu $ark FROM THE BENNO LOEWY LIBRARY BENNO LOEWY BEQUEATHED TO CORNELL UNIVERSITYWords worfft ?R 5054 IS5&LA LLA ROOKH  4* . "One wild, heart-broken shriek she gave, Then sprung, as if to reach that blaze, Where still she fix'd, her dying gaze,- And, gazing, sunk into the wave,1' 1TB ¥ TO®. ML, L A L L A ROOKH, AN QDriental Romance. BY THOMAS MOORE. ILLUSTRATED WITH ENGRAVINGS FROM DRAWINGS BY EMINENT ARTISTS. NEW YORK: LEAVITT & ALLEN, Y \ * \ ■ LALLA ROOKH, AN (Driental Romance. BY THOMAS MOORE. ILLUSTRATED WITH ENGRAVINGS FROM NEW YORK : LEAVITT & ALLEN, L_d f\.S93^S- *181 7j Ui / t \/\ TO SAMUEL ROGERS, ESQ. THIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED, HIS VERY GRATEFUL AND AFFECTIONATE FRIEND. THOMAS MOORE. May 19, 1817. a if aCONTENTS Pag© PREFACE* •••►........................................ 13 THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN........................ 39 PARADISE AND THE PERI................................... 150 THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS ** ■...............................188 THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM...... • . r€ « • »« ♦ • • • O » • • • • ©-• •■•««•• •«••• 299 LIST OF THE ILLUSTRATIONS.. LALLA ROOKH. Bu K. Meadows. [To face Title.) DEATH OF HINDA. (Engraved Title-page.) By Edward Corbould. “ One wild heart-broken shriek she gave, Then sprung, as if to reach that blaze, Where still she fixed her dying gaze, And, gazing, sunk into the wave.” The Firc^wors flippers. ZELICA. By Edward Corbould. ------“ You saw her pale dismay, Ye wondering sisterhood, and heard the burst Of exclamation from her lips, when first She saw that youth, too well, too dearly known, Silently kneeling at the Prophet’s throne.” The Veiled Prophet of Khorassan, p. 48.X LIST OF THE ILLUSTRATIONS. AZIM AND ZELICA. By Edward Corbould. -------“ 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 birth Rung through the casement near, < Thy oath! thy oath!’ 39 The Veiled Prophet of Kliorassan, p. 102. ZELICA DISCOVERING THE VEILED PROPHET By Edward Corbould. “ But hark—she stops—she listens—dreadful tone ! ’Tis her tormentor’s laugh—and now, a groan.” The Veiled Prophet of Khorassan, p. 132. THE PERI AT THE GATE OF EDEN. By K. Meadows. “ One morn a Peri at the gate Of Eden stood, disconsolate.” Paradise and the Peri, p. 150.LIST OF THE ILLUSTRATIONS. v. THE PERI’S FIRST PILGRIMAGE. Bv Edward Corbould. “‘IN'ay, turn not from me that dear face— Am I not thine—thy own loved bride— The one, the chosen one, whose place In life or death is by thy side V ” Paradise and the Peri, p. 164. THE PERI’S SECOND PILGRIMAGE By Edward Corbould. “Then swift his hazard brow he turned o o To the fair child, who fearless sat, Though never yet hath daybeam burned Upon a brow more fierce than that.” Paradise and the Peri, p. 170 THE PARTING OF HIND A AND HAFED. Bv T. P. SrF.PHANOFF. “‘My dreams have boded all too right— We part—for ever part—to-night! [ knew, I knew it could not last— ’Twas bright, ’twas heavenly, but ’tis past!’ ” The Fire-worshipers, p. 20CLIST OF THE ILLUSTRATIONS.. Kil THE DEPARTURE OF HAFED. By Edward Corbould. “ Fiercely he broke away, nor stopped, Nor looked—but from the lattice dropped Down mid the pointed crags beneath, As if he fled from love to death.” The Fire-worshippers, p. 207 HINDA. By T. P. Stefhanoff. « And watch, and look along the deep For him whose smiles first made her weep.” The Firc-worshippen, p. 229. NAMOUNA. By Iv. Meadows. ------“ Her glance Spoke something, pa.st all mortal pleasures, As, in a kind of holy trance, She hung above those fragrant treasures. Bending to drink their balmy airs, As if she mixed her soul with theirs.” The Light of the Haram, p. 315. NOURMAHAL ASLEEP. By T. P. STErHAXoFF. « No sooner was the flowery crown Placed on her head, than sleep came down, Gently as nights of summer fall, Upon the lids of Nourmahal.” The Light of the Haram, p. 3IS.PREFACE. The Poem, or Romance, of Lalla Rookh, Laving now reached, I understand, its twentieth edition, a short account of the origin and progress of a work which has been hitherto so very fortunate in its course, may not be deemed, perhaps, superfluous or misplaced. It was about the year 1812 that, far more through the encouraging suggestions of friends than from any confident promptings of my own ambition, I conceived the design of writing a Poem upon some Oriental subject, and of those quarto dimensions which Scott’s successful publications in that form had then rendered the regular poetical standard. A negotiation on the subject was opened with the Messrs. Longman, in the same year; but, from some causes which I cannot now recollect, led to no decisive result; nor was it till a year or two after, that any further steps were taken in the matter,—their house being the only one, it is right to add, with which, from first to last, I held any communication upon the subject. On this last occasion, Mr. Perry kindly offered himself as my representative in the treaty; and, what with the friendly zeal of my negotiator on the one side, and the B 13PREFACE. prompt and liberal spirit with which he was met on the other, there has seldom, I think, occurred any transaction in which Trade and Poesy have shone out so advanta- geously in each other’s eyes. The short discussion that then took place, between the two parties, may be com prised in a very few sentences. “I am of opinion,” said Mr. Perry,—enforcing his view of the case by arguments which it is not for me to cite,—“ that Mr. Moore ought to receive for his Poem the largest price that has been given, in our day, for such a work.” “That was,” answered the Messrs. Longman, “three thousand guineas.” “ Exactly so,” replied Mr. Perry, “and no less a sum ought he to receive.” It was then objected, and very reasonably, on the part of the firm, that they had never yet seen a single line of the Poem; and that a perusal of the work ought to be allowed to them, before they embarked so large a sum in the purchase. But, no;—the romantic view which my friend, Perry, took of the matter, was, that this price should be given as a tribute to reputation already acquired, without any condition for a previous perusal of the new work. This high tone, I must confess, not a little startled ana alarmed me; but, to the honour and glory of Romance,— as well on the publishers’ side as the poet’s,—this very generous view of the transaction was, without any difficulty, acceded to, and the firm agreed, before we separated, tuat I wTas to receive three thousand guineas for my Poem.PREFACE. 15 At the time of this agreement, but little of the work, as it stands at present, had yet been written. But the ready confidence of my success shown by others, made up for the deficiency of that requisite feeling, within myself, while a strong desire not wholly to disappoint this “auguring hope,” became almost a substitute for inspiration. In the year 1815, therefore, having made some progress in my task, I wrote to report the state of the work to the Messrs. Longman, adding, that I was now most willing and ready, should they desire it, to submit the manuscript for then consideration. Their answer to this offer was as follows:— “We are certainly impatient for the perusal of the Poem; but solely for our gratification. Your sentiments are always honourable.” a I continued to pursue my task for another year, being' likewise occasionally occupied with the Irish Melodies, two or three numbers of which made their appearance, during the period employed in writing Lalla Rookh. At length, in the year 1816, I found my work sufficiently advanced to be placed in the hands of the publishers. But the state of distress to which England was reduced, in that dismal year, by the exhausting effects of the series of wars she had just then concluded, and the general em- barrassment of all classes, both agricultural and commercial, rendered it a juncture the least favourable that could wel a April 10, 1815.16 PREFACE. be conceived for the first launch into print of so light and costly a venture as Lalla Rookh. Feeling conscious, there- fore, that, under such circumstances, I should act but honestly in putting it in the power of the Messrs. Longman to reconsider the terms of their engagement with me,— leaving them free to postpone, modify, or even, should such be their wish, relinquish it altogether, I wrote them a letter to that effect, and received the following answer:—“We shall be most happy in the pleasure of seeing you in February. We agree with you, indeed, that the times are most inauspicious for ‘ poetry and thousands ;’ but we believe that your poetry would do more than that of any other living poet at the present moment.’7 a The length of time I employed in writing the few stories strung together in Lalla Rookh will appear, to some persons, much more than was necessary for the production of such easy and “ light o’ love” fictions. But, besides that I have been, at all times, a far more slow and painstaking workman than would ever be guessed, I fear, from the result, I felt that, in this instance, I had taken upon myself a more than ordinary responsibility, from the immense stake risked by others on my chance of success. For a long time, therefore, after the agreement had been concluded, though generally at work with a view to this task, I made but very little real progress in it; and I have still by me the beginnings of a November 9, 1816.PREFACE. 1? several stones, continued, some of them, to the length of three or four hundred lines, which, after in vain endeavouring to mould them into shape, I threw aside, like the tale of Cambuscan, “left half-told.” One of these stories, entitled 9 The Peri’s Daughter, was meant to relate the loves of a nymph of this aerial extraction with a youth of mortal race, the rightful Prince of Ormuz, who had been, from his infancy, brought up, in seclusion, on the banks of the river Amou, by an aged guardian named Mohassan. The story opens with the first meeting of these destined lovers, then in their childhood; the Peri having wafted her daughter to this holy retreat, in a bright, enchanted boat, whose first appearance is thus described :— ****** For, down the silvery tide afar, There came a boat, as swift and bright As shines, in heaven, some pilgrim-star, That leaves its own high home, at night, To shoot to distant shrines of light. “ It comes, it comes,” young Orian cries, And panting to Mohassan flies. Then down upon the flowery grass Reclines to see the vision pass; "YV ith partly joy and partly fear, To find its wondrous light so near, And hiding oft his dazzled eyes Among the flowers on which he lies. ****** Within the boat a baby slept, Like a young pearl within its shell; While one, who seemed of riper years. But not of earth, or earthlike spheres* Her watch beside the slumbercr kept; b S'IS PREFACE. Gracefully waving, in her hand, The feathers of some holy bird, With which, from time to time, she stirred The fragrant air, and coolly fanned The baby’s brow, or brushed away The butterflies that, bright and blue As on the mountains of Malay, Around the sleeping infant flew. And now the fairy boat hath stopped Beside the bank,—the nymph has dropped Her golden anchor in the stream; ****** A song is sung by the Peri in approaching, of which the following forms a part:— My child she is but half divine; Her father sleeps in the Caspian water; Sea-weeds twine His funeral shrine, But he lives again in the Peri’s daughter. Fain would I fly from mortal sight To my own sweet bowers of Peristan But there, the flowers are all too bright For the eyes of a baby born of man. On flowers of earth her feet must tread ; So hither my light-winged bark hath brought her; Stranger, spread Thy leafiest bed, To rest the wandering Peri’s daughter. In another of these inchoate fragments, a proud female samt named Banou, plays a principal part, and her progress through the streets of Cufa, on the night of a great illumi- nated festival, I find thus described -PREFACE. 19 It was a scene of mirth that drew A smile from even the Saint Banou, As, through the hushed, admiring throng, She went with stately steps along, And counted o’er, that all might see, The rubies of her rosary. But none might see the worldly smile That lurked beneath her veil, the while :—. Alla forbid! for, who would wait Her blessing at the temple’s gate,— What holy man would ever run To kiss the ground she knelt upon, If once, by luckless chance, he knew She looked and smiled as others do ? Her hands were joined, and from each wrist By threads of pearl and golden twist Hung relics of the saints of yore, And scraps of talismanic lore,— Charms for the old, the sick, the frail, Some made for use, and all for sale. On either side, the crowd withdrew, To let the Saint pass proudly through; While turbaned heads, of every hue, Green, white, and crimson, bowed around. And gay tiaras touched the ground,— As tulip-bells, when o’er their beds The musk-wind passes, bend their heads. Nay, some there were, among the crowd Of Moslem heads that round her bowed, So filled with zeal, by many a draught Of Shiraz wine profanely quaffed, That, sinking low in reverence then, They never rose till morn again. There are yet two more of these unfinished sketches, one of which extends to a much greater length than I was aware of; and, as far as I can judge from a hasty renewal of my acquaintance with it, it is not incapable of being yet turned to account.20 PREFACE. In only one of these unfinished sketches, the tale of The Peri’s Daughter, had I yet ventured to invoke that most homefelt of all my inspirations, which has lent to the story of The Fire-worshippers its main attraction and interest. That t was my intention, in the concealed Prince of Ormuz, to shadow out some impersonation of this feeling, I take for granted from the prophetic words supposed to be addressed to him by his aged guardian :— Bright child of destiny ! even now I read the promise on that brow, That tyrants shall no more defde The glories of the Green-Sea Isle, But Ormuz shall again be free, And hail her native Lord in thee ! Ill none of the other fragments do I find any trace of this sort of feeling, either in the subject or the personages of the intended story; and this was the reason, doubtless, though hardly known, at the time, to myself, that, finding my subjects so slow in kindling my own sympathies, I began to despair of their ever touching the hearts of others; and felt often inclined to say, “ O no, I have no voice or hand For such a song, in such a land.” Had this series of disheartening experiments been carried on much further, I must have thrown aside the work in despair. But, at last, fortunately, as it proved, the thought occurred to me of founding a story on the fierce struggle scPREFACE. 21 long mainttf ned between the Ghebers,a or ancient Fire-wor- shippers of Persia, and their haughty Moslem masters. From that moment, a new and deep interest in my whole task took possession of me. The cause of tolerance was again my inspiring theme ; and the spirit that had spoken in the melo- dies of Ireland soon found itself at home in the East. Having thus laid open the secrets of the workshop to account for the time expended in writing this work, I must also, in justice to my own industry, notice the pains I took in long and laboriously reading for it. To form a store- house, as it were, of illustration purely Oriental, and so familiarize myself with its various treasures, that, as quick as Fancy required the aid of fact, in her spiritings, the memory was ready, like another Ariel, at her “ strong bidding,” to furnish materials for the spell-work,—such was, for a long while, the sole object of my studies; and whatever time and trouble this preparatory process may have cost me, the effects resulting from it, as far as the humble merit of truthfulness is concerned, have been such as to repay me more than suffi- ciently for my pains. I have not forgotten how great was my pleasure, when told by the late Sir James Mackintosh, that he was once asked by Colonel W----------s, the historian of British India, “whether it was true that Moore had never been in the East.” “Never,” answered Mackintosh. “Well, that- a Voltaire, in his tragedy of “ Les Guebres,” written with a similar undei current of meaning, was accused of having transformed his Fire-worshippers into Jansenists:—“ Quelques figuristes,” he says, “pretendent que les Guebies sont les Jansenistes.*'22 PREFACE. shows me,55 replied Colonel W----------s, “that reading1 ovet D’Herbelot is as good as riding on the back of a camel.55 I need hardly subjoin to this lively speech, that although D’Herbelot’s valuable work was, of course, one of my ma- nuals, I took the whole range of all such Oriental reading as was accessible to me ; and became, for the time, indeed, far more conversant with all relating to that distant region, than I have ever been with the scenery, productions, or modes of life of any of those countries lying most within my reach. We know that D’Anville, though never in his life out of Paris, was able to correct a number of errors in a plan of the Troad taken by De Choiseul, on the spot; and, for my own very different, as well as far inferior, purposes, the knowledge I had thus acquired of distant localities, seen only by me in my day-dreams, was no less ready and useful. An ample reward for all this painstaking has been found in such welcome tributes as I have just now cited; nor can l deny myself the gratification of citing a few more of the same description. From another distinguished authority on Eastern subjects, the late Sir John Malcolm, I had myself the pleasure of hearing a similar opinion publicly expressed ;—that eminent person, in a speech spoken by him at a Literary Fund Dinner, having remarked, that together with those qualities of the poet which he much too partially assigned to me, was combined also “the truth of the historian.55 Sir William Cuseley another high authority, in giving his testimony to the same effect, thus notices an exception to thePREFACE. 23 general accuracy for which he gives me credit:—“ Dazzled by the beauties of this composition/ few readers can perceive, and none surely can regret, that the poet, in his magnificent catastrophe, has forgotten, or boldly and most happily violated, the precept of Zoroaster, above noticed, which held it impious to consume any portion of a human body by fire, especially by that which glowed upon their altars.” Having long lost, I fear, most of my Eastern learning, I can only cite, in defence of nry catastrophe, an old Oriental tradition, which relates, that Nim- rod, when Abraham refused, at his command, to worship the fire, ordered him to be thrown into the midst of the flames.b A precedent so ancient for this sort of use of the worshipped element, would appear, for all purposes at least of poetry; fully sufficient. In addition to these agreeable testimonies, I have also heard, and need hardly add, with some pride and pleasure, that parts of this work have been rendered into Persian, and have found their way to Ispahan. To this fact, as I am willing to think it, allusion is made in some lively verses^ written many years since, by my friend, Mr. Luttrell:— “I’m told, dear Moore, your lays are sung, (Can it be true, you lucky man'!) By moonlight, in the Persian tongue, Along the streets of Ispahan.” 4 The Fire-worshippers. b Tradunt autem llebroei hanc fabulam quod Abraham in ignem missus sil |uia ignem adorare noluit.—St. Hiehon, in qiuest. in Gcncsim,24 PREFACE. That some knowledge of the work may have really reached that region, appears not improbable from a passage in the Travels of Mr. Frazer, who says, that “ being delayed for some time at a town on the shores of the Caspian, he was lucky enough to be able to amuse himself with a copy of Lalla Rookh, which a Persian had lent him.” Of the description of Balbec, in “ Paradise and the Peri,” Mr. Carne, in his Letters from the East, thus speaks: “The description in Lalla Rookh of the plain and its ruins is exquisitely faithful. The minaret is on the declivity near at hand, and there wanted only the muezzin’s cry to break the silence.” I shall now tax my reader’s patience with but one more of these generous vouchers. Whatever of vanity there may be in citing such tributes, they show, at least, of what great value, even in poetry, is that prosaic quality, industry; since, as the reader of the foregoing pages is now fully ap- prized, it was in a slow and laborious collection ol small facts, that the first foundations of this fanciful Romance were laid. The friendly testimony I have just referred to, appeared, some years since, in the form in which I now give it, and, if I recollect right, in the Athenaeum:— “ 1 embrace this opportunity of bearing my individual testimony (if it be of any value) to the extraordinary accuracy of Mr. Moore, in his topographical, antiquarian, and characPREFACE. 25 .eristic details, whether of costume, manners, or less-changing monuments, both in his Lalla Rookh and in the Epicurean. It has been my fortune to read his Atlantic, Bermudean, ana American Odes and Epistles, In the countries and among the people to which and to whom they related; 1 enjoyed also the exquisite delight of reading his Lalla Rookh, in Persia itself; and I have perused the Epicurean, while all my recol- lections of Egypt and its still existing wonders are as fresh as when I quitted the banks of the Nile for Arabia;—I owe it, therefore, as a debt of gratitude, (though the payment is most inadequate,) for the great pleasure I have derived from his productions, to bear my humble testimony to their local fidelity. J. S. B ” Among the incidents connected with this work, I must not omit to notice the splendid Divertissement, founded upon it, which was acted at the Chateau Royal of Berlin, during the visit of the Grand Duke Nicholas to that capital, in the year 1822. The different stories composing the work were represented in Tableaux Vivans and songs; and among the crowd of royal and noble personages engaged in the per- formances, I shall mention those only who represented the principal characters, and whom I find thus enumerated in the published account of the Divertissement.1 1 Lalla Roukh, Divertissement mele de Chants et de Danses, Berlin, i 822. The work contains a series of coloured engravings, representing groups, pro cessions, &c., in different Oriental costumes, C26 PREFACE. « Fadladin, Grand-Nasir, . . . Comte Haack, (Mareehcil dt Cour.) Aliris, Roi de Bucharie, ... S. A. I. Lc Grand Due. Lallah Roukh,..............S. A. I. La Grand Duchesse. Aurungzeb, le Grand Mogol, . S. A. R. Le Prince Guillaume, frere die Ro\ Abdallah, Pere d’Aliris, . . . S. A. R. Le Due de Cumberland. La Reine, epouse, . . . S. A. R. La Princesse Louise Radzivill.” Besides these and other leading personages, there were also brought into action, under the various denominations of Seigneurs et Dames de Bucharie, Dames de Cachemire, Seigneurs et Dames dansans a la Fete des Roses, &c., nearly one hundred and fifty persons. Of the manner and style in which the Tableaux of the different stories are described in the work from which I cite / the following account of the performance of Paradise and the Peri will afford some specimen :— “ La decoration representoit les portes brillantes du Paradis, entourees de nuages. Dans le premier tableau on voyoit la Peri, triste et desolee, couchee sur le seuil des portes fermees, et l’Ange de lumiere qui lui adresse des consolations et des conseils. Le second represente le moment, ou la Peri, dans Pespoir que ce don lui ouvrira Pentree du Paradis recueille la derniere goutte de sang que vient de verser le jeune guerrier Indien................ u La Peri et PAnge de lumiere repondoient pleinement a Pimage et a Pidee qu’on est tente de se faire de ces deux mdividus, et Pimpression qu’a faite generalement la suite des tableaux de cet episode delicat et interessant est loin de s’effacer de notre souvenir.”PREFACE. 27 In this grand Fete it appears, originated the translation of Lalla Rookh into German verse, by the Baron de la Motte Fouque; and the circumstances which led him to undertake the task, are described by himself, in a Dedicatory Poem to the Empress of Russia, which he has prefixed to his transla- tion. As soon as the performance, he tells us, had ended, Lalla Rookh (the Empress herself) exclaimed, with a sigh, “ Is it, then, all over? are we now at the close of all that has given us so much delight ? and lives there no poet who will impart to others, and to future times, some notion of the happiness we have enjoyed this evening?’5 On hearing this appeal, the Knight of Cashmere (who is no other than the poetical Baron himself) comes forward and promises to attempt to present to the world “the Poem itself in the measure of the original:”—whereupon Lalla Rookh, it is added, approvingly smiled.LALLA ROOKH. In the eleventh year of the reign of Aurungzebe, Abdalla, K .ig of the Lesser Bucharia, a lineal descendant from the Great Zingis, having abdicated the throne in favour of his son, set out on a pilgrimage to the Shrine of the Prophet; and, passing into India through the delightful valley of Cashmere; rested for a short time at Delhi on his way. He was enter - tained by Aurungzebe in a style of magnificent hospitality^, worthy alike of the visiter and the host, and was afterwards escorted with the same splendour to Surat, where he embarked for Arabia.a During the stay of the Royal Pilgrim at Delhi, a marriage was agreed upon between the Prince, his son, and the youngest daughter of the Emperor, Lalla Rookh ;b—a Princess described by the poets of her time as more beautiful 4 These particulars of the visit of the King of Bucharia to Aurungzebe ara found in Dow's History of Hindostan, vol. iii. p. 392. b T ulip cheek. c 2 2330 LALLA ROOKH. than Leila/ Shirine/ Dewilde/ or any of those heroines whose names and loves embellish the songs of Persia and Hindostan. It was intended that the nuptials should be celebrated at Cashmere; where the young King,, as soon as the cares of empire wTould permit, was to meet, for the first time, his lovely bride, and, after a few months’ repose in that enchanting valley, conduct her over the snowTy hills into Bucharia. The day of Lalla Rookh’s departure from Delhi wTas as splendid as sunshine and pageantry could make it. The bazaars and baths were all covered with the richest tapestry; hundreds of gilded barges upon the Jumna floated with their banners shining in the w^ater; wThile through the streets groups of beautiful children went strewing the most delicious floweis around, as in that Persian festival called the Scattering of the Roses ;d till every part of the city was as fragrant as if a caravan of musk from Khoten had passed through it. The Princess, having taken leave of her kind father, who at parting hung a cornelian of Yemen round her neck, on which was inscribed a verse from the Koran, and having sent a consider- able present to the Fakirs^ who kept up the Perpetual Lamp in her sister’s tomb, meekly ascended the palankeen prepared a The mistress of Mejnoun, upon whose story so many Romances in all the languages of the East are founded. bFor the loves of this celebrated beauty with Khosrou and with Ferhad, see D'Herbelot, Gibbon, Oriental Collections, &c. c“The history of the loves of Dewilde and Chizer, the son of the Emperor Alla, is written in an elegant poena, by the noble Chusero.”—Ferishta» d Gul Reazee*L A L L A ROOKH, 31 for her; and, while Aurungzebe stood to take a last look from his balcony, the procession moved slowly on the road to Lahore. Seldom had the Eastern world seen a cavalcade so superb. From the gardens in the suburbs to the Imperial palace, it was one unbroken line of splendour. The gallant appearance of the Rajahs and Mogul lords, distinguished by those insignia of the Emperor’s favour,® the feathers of the egret of Cash- mere, in their turbans, and the small silver-rimmed kettle-drums at the bows of their saddles ;—the costly armour of their cava- liers, who vied, on this occasion, with the guards of the great Keder lvhan,b in the brightness of their silver battle-axes and the massiness of their maces of gold;—the glittering of the gilt pine-applesc on the tops of the palankeens;—the embroidered a “ One mark of honour or knighthood bestowed by the Emperor is the permission to wear a small kettle-drum at the bows of their saddles, which at first was invented for the training of hawks, and to call them to the lure, and is worn in the field by all sportsmen to that end.”—Fryer's Travels. “ Those on whom the King has conferred the privilege must wear an orna- ment of jewels on the right side of the turban, surmounted by a high plume of the feathers of a kind of egret. This bird is found only in Cashmere, and the feathers are carefully collected for the King, who bestows them on his nobles.”—- Elphinstone's Account of Caubul. b « Khedar Khan, the Khakan, or King of Turquestan beyond the Gihon, (at the end of the eleventh century,) whenever he appeared abroad, was pre- ceded by seven hundred horsemen with silver battle-axes, and was followed by an eaual number bearing maces of gold. He was a great patron of poetry, and it was he who used to preside at public exercises of genius, with four basins ol gold and silver by him to distribute among the poets who excelled.”—Richard* son's Dissertation prefixed to his Dictionary. * u The kubdeh, a large golden knob, generally in the shape of a pine-apple,LALLA ROOKH, 32 trappings of the elephants, bearing on their backs small turrets, in the shape of little antique temples, within which the Ladies of Lalla Rookh lay as it were enshrined;—the rose-coloured veils of the Princess’s own sumptuous litter,a at the front of which a fair young female slave sat fanning her through the curtains, with feathers of the Argus pheasant’s wing — and the lovely troop of Tartarian and Cashmerian maids of honour, whom the young King had sent to accompany his bride, and who rode on each side of the litter, upon small Arabian horses;—all was brilliant, tasteful, and magnificent, and pleased even the critical and fastidious Fadladeen, Great Nazir or Chamberlain of the Haram, who was borne in his palankeen immediately after the Princess, and con- sidered himself not the least important personage of the pageant. Fadladeen was a judge of every thing,—from the peneil- ling of a Circassian’s eyelids to the deepest questions of on the top of the canopy over the litter or palanquin.”—Scott’s Notes on the Bahard anush. a In the Poem of Zohair, in the Moallakat, there is the following lively de scription of “ a company of maidens seated on camels.” “ They are mounted in carriages covered with costly awnings, and with rose-coloured veils, the linings of which have the hue of crimson Andem- wood. “ When they ascend from the bosom of the vale, they sit forward on the saddle-cloth, with every mark of a voluptuous gayety. “Now, when they have reached the brink of yon blue-gushing rivulet, they fix the poles of their tents like the Arab with a settled mansion.’ b See Bernier’s description of the attendants on Rauchanara-Begum, in has progress to Cashmere,L A L L A R O O K H. 3G science an I literature; from the mixture of a conserve of rose- leaves to the composition of an epic poem : and such influence had his opinion upon the various tastes of the day, that all the cooks and poets of Delhi stood in awe of him. His political conduct and opinions were founded upon that line of Sadi,—“ Should the Prince at noonday say, It is night, declare that you behold the moon and stars.”—And his zeal for religion, of which Aurungzebe was a magnificent pro- tector,* was about as disinterested as that of the goldsmith who fell in love with the diamond eyes of the idol of Jaghernaut.b During the first days of their journey, Lalla Rookii, who had passed all her life-within the shadow of the Royal Gardens of Delhi,0 found enough in the beauty of the scenery * This hypocritical Emperor would have made a worthy associate of certain Holy Leagues.—“ He held the cloak of religion (says Dow) between his actions and the vulgar; and impiously thanked the Divinity for a success which he owed to his own wickedness. When he was murdering and persecuting his brothers and their families, he was building a magnificent mosque at Delhi, as an offer- ing to God for his assistance to him in the civil wars. He acted as high priest at the consecration of this temple; and made a practice of attending divine service there, in the humble dress of a Fakeer. But when he lifted one hand to the Divinity, he, with the other, signed warrants for the assassination of his relations.”—History of Hindostan, vol. iii. p. 335. See also the curious letter of Aurungzebe, given in the Oriental Collections, vol. i. p. 320. b “The idol at Jaghernat has two fine diamonds for eyes No goldsmith is suffered to enter the Pagoda, one having stole one of these eyes, being locked up all night with the idol.”—Tavernier. c See a description of these royal Gardens in “An account of the present State of Delhi, by Lieutenant W. Franklin.”—dsiat. Research. voL iv. p 417.34 L A L L A ROOKH. through which they passed to interest her mind, and delight her imagination; and when at evening, or in the heat of the day, they turned off from the high road to those retired and romantic places which had been selected for her encamp* ments, sometimes on the banks of a small rivulet, as clear as the wraters of the Lake of Pearl;a sometimes under the sacred shade of a Banyan tree, from which the view opened upon a glade covered with antelopes; and often in those hidden, embowrered spots, described by one from the Isles of the West,b as places of melancholy, delight, and safety, where all the company around v'as wTild peacocks and turtle- doves ;—she felt a charm in these scenes, so lovely and so new to her, which, for a time, made her indifferent to every other amusement. But Lalla Rookii was young, and the young love variety; nor could the conversation of her Ladies and the Great Chamberlain Fadladeen, (the only persons, of course, admitted to her pavilion,) sufficiently enliven those many vacant hours, which were devoted neither to the pillow nor the palankeen. There wTas a little Persian slave who sung sweetly to the Vina, and who, now and then, lulled the Princess to sleep writh the ancient ditties of her < a “In the neighbourhood is Notte Gill, or the Lake of Pearl, which receives ibis name from its pellucid water.”—Pennant's Hindostan. “Nasir Jung, encamped in the vicinity of the Lake of Tonoor, amused himself with sailing on that clear and beautiful water, and gave it the fancitid name of Motee Talah, ‘the Lake of Pearls/ which it still retains.”—Wilks’* Eolith of India. b Sir Thomas Roe, Ambassador from James I. to Jehanguire.L A L L A ROOKH. 35 country, about the loves of Wamak and Ezra,a the fair- haired Zal and his mistress Rodahvei\b not forgetting the combat of Rustam with the terrible White Demon.0 At other times she was amused by those graceful dancing-girls Great Pagoda to attend her, much to the horror of the goon Mussulman Fadladeen, who could see nothing graceful or agreeable in idolaters, and to whom the very tinkling of their golden anklets d was an abomination. a “The romance Wemakweazra, written in Persian verse, which contains the loves of Wamak and Ezra, two celebrated lovers who lived before the time of Mahomet.’’—Note on the Oriental Tales. b Their amour is recounted in the Shah-Nameli of Ferdousi; and there is much beauty in the passage which describes the slaves of Rodahver sitting on the bank of the river and throwing flowers into the stream, in order to draw the attention of the young Hero who is encamped on the opposite side.—See Champion s translation. c Rustam is the Hercules of the Persians. For the particulars of his vic- tor over the Sepeed Deeve, or White Demon, see Oriental Collections, vol. ii. p. 45.—Near the city of Shirauz is an immense quadrangular monument, in commemoration of this combat, called the Kelaat-i-Deev Sepeed, or Castle of the White Giant, which Father Angelo, in his Gazophilacium Persicum, p. 127, declares to have been the most memorable monument of antiquity which he had seen in Persia.—See Ouselcy’s Persian Miscellanies d “ The women of the Idol, or dancing-girls of the Pagoda, have little golden bells, fastened to their feet, the soft, harmonious tinkling of which vibrates in unison with the exquisite melody of their voices.”—Maurice’s Indian Antiquities. ** The Arabian courtesans, like the Indian women, have little golden bells fastened round their legs, neck, and elbows, to the sound of which they dance before the King. The Arabian princesses wear golden rings on their fingers, to which little bells are suspended, as well as in the flowing tresses of their hair, that their superior rank may be known, and they themselves receive in passing the homage due to them.”—See Calmet’s Dictionary art. Bells. of Delhi, who had been permitted Bramins of the86 LALLA ROOKH. I But these and many other diversions were repeated till they lost all their charm, and the nights and noondays were beginning to move heavily, when, at length, it wras recol- lected that, among the attendants sent by the bridegroom, was a young poet of Cashmere, much celebrated throughout the Valley for his manner of reciting the Stories of the East, on whom his Royal Master had conferred the privilege of being admitted to the pavilion of the Princess, that he might help to beguile the tediousness of the journey, by some of his most agreeable recitals. At the mention of a poet, Fadladeen elevated his critical eyebrows, and, having re- freshed his faculties with a dose of that delicious opiuma which is distilled from the black poppy of the Thebais, gave orders for the minstrel to be forthwith introduced into the presence. The Princess, who had once in her life seen a poet from behind the screens of gauze in her Father’s hall, and had conceived from that specimen no very favourable ideas of the Caste, expected but little in this new exhibition to interest her;—she felt inclined, however, to alter her opinion on the very first appearance of Feramorz. He w^as a youth about Lalla Rookh’s own age, and graceful as that idol of women, Crishna,b—such as he appears to their young “Abou-Tige, ville de la Thebaide, ou il croit beaucoup de pavot noir, iont se fait le meilleur opium.”—D'Hcrbclot. 1 The Indian Apollo.—« He and the three Rumas are described as youth?L A L L A ROO K H. 37 imaginations, heroic, beautiful, breathing* music from his very eyes, and exalting the religion of his worshippers into love. His dress was simple, yet not without some marks of costliness ; and the Ladies of the Princess were not long m discovering that the cloth, which encircled his high Tar- tarian cap, was of the most delicate kind that the shawk goats of Tibet supply.a Here and there, too, over his vest, which was confined by a flowered girdle of Kashan, hung strings of fine pearl, disposed with an air of studied negligence;— nor did the exquisite embroidery of his sandals escape the observation of these fair critics; who, however they might give way to Fadladeen upon the unimportant topics of religion and government, had the spirit of martyrs in every thing relating to such momentous matters as jewels and embroidery. For the purpose of relieving the pauses of recitation by music, the young Cashmerian held in his. hand a kitar;— such as, in old times, the Arab maids of the West used to. listen to by moonlight in the gardens of the Alhambra— and, having premised, with much humility, that the story he was about to relate was founded on the adventures of of perfect beauty; and the princesses of Hindustan were all passionately in love with Crishna, who continues to this hour the darling God of the Indian women.”—Sir W. Jones, on the Gods of Greece, Italy, and India. a See Turner's Embassy for a description of this animal, “ the most beautiful among the whole tribe of goats.” The material for the shawls (which is car- ried to Cashmere) is found next the skin. D38 L A L L A ROOKH, that Veiled Prophet of Khorassan,a who, in the year of the Hegira 163, created such alarm throughout the Eastern Em- pire, made an obeisance to the Princess, and thus began. * For the real history of this Impostor, whose original name was Hakem neri Haschem, and who was called Mocanna from the veil of silver gauze (or, as others say, golden) ivhich he always wore, see D’HerbeloUTHE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN/ In that delightful Province of the Sun, The first of Persian lands he shines upon. Where all the loveliest children of his beam, Flowerets and fruits, blush over every stream,21 And, fairest of all streams, the Murga roves Among Merou’s0 bright palaces and groves There on that throne, to which the blind belief Of millions raised him, sat the Prophet-Chief, The Great Mokanna. O’er his features hung The Veil, the Silver Veil, which he had flung In mercy there, to hide from mortal sight His dazzling brow, till man could bear its light. For, far less luminous, his votaries said, Were ev’n the gleams, miraculously shed a Khorassan signifies, in the old Persian language, Province or Region of the Sun.—Sir W. Jones. b “ The fruits of Meru are finer than those of any other place; and one cannot see in any other city such palaces, with groves, and streams, and gardens.”—Ebn HaukaVs Geography. c One of the royal cities of Khorassan.40 L A L L A ROOKH, O’er Moussa’s"1 cheeky when clown the Mount he trod, Ah glowing from the presence of his God ! On either side, with ready hearts and hands, His chosen guard of bold Believers stands ; Young fire-eyed disputants, who deem their swords, On points of faith, more eloquent than words; And such their zeal, there’s not a youth with brand Uplifted there, but, at the Chief’s command, Would make his own devoted heart its sheath, And bless the lips that doomed so dear a death! In hatred to the Caliph’s hue of night,c Their vesture, helms and all, is snowy white ; Their weapons various—some equipped, for speed, With javelins of the light Kathaian reed;d Or bows of buffalo-horn and shining quivers Filled with the stemse that bloom on Iran’s riv°vs ;f a Moses. b “ Ses disciples assuroient qu’il se couvroit le visage, pour ne pas eblouir ceux qui rapprochoient par l’eclat de son visage comme Moyse.”—DAIcrbclot. c Black was the colour adopted by the Caliphs of the House of Abbas, in their garments, turbans, and standards.—“T1 faut remarquer ici touchane les habits blancs des disciples de Hakem, que la couleur des habits, des cbefFures et des etendarts des Khalifes Abassides etant la noire, ce chef de Rebelles ne pou- voit pas choisir u‘.; qui lui fut plus opposee.”—D'Herbdot. 3 “ Our dark javelins, exquisitely wrought of Khathaian reeds, slender and delicate.”—Poem of Amru. e Pichula, used anciently for arrows by the Persians. f The Persians call this plant Gaz. The celebrated shaft of Isfendiar, one of their ancient heroes, was made of it.—“Nothing can be more beautiful than the appearance of this plant in flower during the rains on the banks of river*,VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 41 While some, for war’s more terrible attacks, Wield the huge mace and ponderous battle-axe ; And as they wave aloft in morning’s beam The milk-white plumage of their helms, they seem Like a chenar-tree grovea when winter throws O’er all its tufted heads his feathering snows. Between the porphyry pillars, that uphold The rich moresque-work of the roof of gold, Aloft the Haram’s curtained galleries rise, Where through the silken network, glancing eyes, From time to time, like sudden gleams that glow Through autumn clouds, shine o’er the pomp below.— What impious tongue, ye blushing saints, would dare To hint that aught but Heaven hath placed you there i Or that the loves of this light world could bind, In their gross chain, your Prophet’s soaring mind ? No—wrongful thought!—commissioned from above To people Eden’s bowers with shapes of love, ('Creatures so bright, that the same lips and eyes They wear on earth will serve in Paradise,) There to recline among Heaven’s native maids, And crown th’ Elect with bliss that never fades— where it is usually interwoven with a lovely twining asclepias.”—Sir TV. Jones, Botanical Observations on Select Indian Plants. a The oriental plane. “ The chenar is a delightful tree; its hole is of a fine white and smooth hark; and its foliage, which grows in a tuft at the summit C3 of a bright green.”—Moriers Travels. p 242 LALLA ROOKH. Well hath the Prophet-Chief his bidding done; And every beauteous rare beneath the sun, From those who.kneel at Brahma’s burning founts/ To the fresh nymphs bounding o’er Yemen’s mounts; From Persia’s eyes of full and fawn-like ray, To the small, half-shut glances of Kathay :h And Georgia’s bloom, and Azab’s darker smiles, And the gold ringlets of the Western Isles; All, all are there ;—each Land its flower hath given, To form that fair young Nursery for Heaven ! But why this pageant now? this armed array? What triumph crowds the rich Divan to-day With turbaned heads, of every hue and race, Bowing before that veiled and awful face, Like tulip-beds,c of different shape and dyes, Bending beneath th’ invisible West-wind’s sighs. What new-made mystery now, for Faith to sign, And blood to seal, as genuine and divine, What dazzling mimicry of God’s own power Hath the bold Prophet planned to grace this hour ? 3 The burning fountains of Brahma near Chittogong, esteemed as holy.— T turner. b China. c “The name of tulip is said to be of Turkish extraction, and given to the flower on account of its resembling a turban.”—Beckmann's History of In ▼entions. {VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 43 Not such the pageant now, though not less proud ; Yon warrior youth, advancing from the crowd, With silver bow, with belt of broidered crape, And fur-bound bonnet of Bucharian shape,a So fiercely beautiful in form and eye, Like war’s wild planet in a summer sky; That youth to day,—a proselyte, worth hordes Of cooler spirits and less practised swords,— Is come to join, all bravery and belief, The creed and standard of the heaven-sent Chief. Though few his years, the West already knows Young Azim’s fame;—beyond th’ Olympian snows, Ere manhood darkened o’er his downy cheek, O’erwhelmed in fight and captive to the Greek,b He lingered there, till peace dissolved his chains;— 0, wrho could, even in bondage, tread the plains Of glorious Greece, nor feel his spirit rise Kindling within him ? who, with heart and eyes, Could walk where Liberty had been, nor see The shining footprints of her Deity, Nor feel those godlike breathings in the air, Which mutely told her spirit had been there ? a “ The inhabitants of Bucharia wear a round cloth bonnet, shaped much after the Polish fashion, having a large fur border. They tie their kaftans about the middle with a girdle of a kind of silk crape, several times round the body.”—• Account of Independent Tartary, in Pinkerton s Collection. b In the war of the Caliph Mahadi against the Emperor Irene, for an account of which vide Gibbon, vol. x.LALLA ROOKH. 44 Not he, that youthful warrior,—no, too well For his soul’s quiet worked the awakening spell; And now, returning to his own dear land, Full of those dreams of good that, vainly grand, Haunt the young heart,—proud views of human* ka. Of men to Gods exalted and refined,— False views, like that horizon’s fair deceit, Where earth and heaven but seem, alas, to meet!— Soon as he heard an Arm Divine wras raised To right the nations, and beheld, emblazed On the white flag Mokanna’s host unfurled, Those words of sunshine, “ Freedom to the World,’ At once his faith, his sword, his soul obeyed Th’ inspiring summons; every chosen blade That fought beneath that banner’s sacred text Seemed doubly edged, for this world and the next4 And ne’er did Faith with her smooth bandage bind Eyes more devoutly willing to be blind, In virtue’s cause;—never was soul inspired With livelier trust in what it most desired, Than his, th’ enthusiast there, who kneeling, pale With pious awe, before that Silver Veil, Believes the form, to which he bends his knee, Some pure, redeeming angel, sent to free This fettered wrorld from every bond and stain, And bring its primal glories back again!VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 4g Low as young Azim knelt, that motley crowd Of all earth’s nations sunk the knee and bowed, With shouts of “Alla!” echoing long and loud ; While high in air, above the Prophet’s head, Hundreds of banners, to the sunbeam spread, Waved, like the wings of the white birds that fan The flying throne of star-taught Soliman.11 Then thus he spoke :—“ Stranger, though new the frame “ Thy soul inhabits now, I’ve tracked its flame “ For many an age,b in every chance and change “ Of that existence, through whose varied range,— “ As through a torch-race, where, from hand to hand, “ The flying youths transmit their shining brand,— “From frame to frame the unextinguished soul “ Rapidly passes, till it reach the goal! “Nor think ’tis only the gross Spirits, warmed “ With duskier fire and for earth's medium formed, a This wonderful Throne was called The Star of the Genii. For a full de scription of it, see the Fragment, translated by Captain Franklin, from a Persian MS. entitled “ The History of Jerusalem,” Oriental Collections, . .. p. 235.— When Soliman travelled, the Eastern writers say, “He had a carpet of green eilk on which his throne was placed, being of a prodigious length and breadth, and sufficient for all his forces to stand upon, the men placing themselves on his right hand, and the spirits on his left; and that when all were in order, the wind, at his command, took up the carpet, and transported it, with all that were upon it, wherever he pleased ; the army of birds at the same time flying ovei their heads, and forming a kind of canopy to shade them from the sun.”—Sale’i Koran, vol. ii. p. 214, note. b The transmigration of souls was one of his doctrines. Vide D'Herbelot.46 LALLA ROOKH. “ That run this course ;—Beings, the most divine, “Thus deign through dark mortality to shine. “ Such was the Essence that in Adam dwelt, “To which all Heaven, except the Proud One, knelt:® “ Such the refined Intelligence that glowed “In Moussa’s1' frame,—and, thence descending, flowed “ Through many a Prophet’s breast; c—in IssAd shone, “And in Mohammed burned; till, hastening on, “ (As a bright river, that from fall to fall “ In many a maze descending, bright through all, “Finds some fair region where, each labyrinth past, “ In one full lake of light it rests at last,) “ That Holy Spirit, settling calm and free “ From lapse or shadow, centres all in me!” Again, throughout th’ assembly, at these words, Thousands of voices rung: the warriors’ swords Were pointed up to heaven: a sudden wind In th’ open banners played, and from behind a“And when we said unto the angels, Worship Adam, they all worshipped him except Eblis, (Lucifer,) who refused.” The Koran, chap. ii. b Moses. c This is according to D’Herbelot’s account of the doctrines of Mokanna:— “ Sa doctrine etoit, que Dieu avoit pris une forme et figure humaine, depuis qu’il eut commande aux Anges d’adorer Adam, le premier des hommes. Qu’apres la mort d’Adam, Dieu etoit apparu sous la figure de plusieurs Pro- phctes, et autres grands hommes qu’il avoit choises, jusqu’a ce qu’il prit cell© d’Abu Moslem, Prince de Khorassan, lequel professoit l’erreur de la Tenas- sukhiah ou Metempsychose; et qu’apres la mort de ce Prince, la Divinita etoit passee, et deseendue en sa personne.” d Jesus.VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. • 47 Those Persian hangings, that but ill could screen The Haram’s loveliness, white hands were seen Waving embroidered scarves, whose motion gave A perfume forth—like those the Houris wave When beckoning to their bowers th’ immortal Brave. “But these,1’ pursued the Chief, “are truths sublime, “ That claim a holier mood and calmer time “ Than earth allows us now ;—this sword must first “ The darkling prison-house of Mankind burst, “Ere Peace can visit them, or Truth let in “ Her wakening daylight on a world of sin. “But then,—celestial warriors, then, when all “Earth’s shrines and thrones before our banner fall; “When the glad Slave shall at these feet lay down “His broken chain, the tyrant Lord his crown, “ The Priest his book, the Conqueror his wreath, “ And from the lips of Truth one mighty breath “ Shall, like a whirlwind, scatter in its breeze “ That whole dark pile of human mockeries:— “ Then shall the reign of mind commence on earth, “And starting fresh as from a second birth, “Man, in the sunshine of the world’s new spring, “ Shall walk transparent, like some holy thing! “ Then, too, your Prophet from his angel brow “Shall cast the Veil that hides its splendours now,48 LALLA ROOKH. “ And gladdened Earth shall, through her wide expanse, « Bask in the glories of this countenance! “For thee, young warrior, welcome!—thou hast yet “ Some tasks to learn, some frailties to forget, “Ere the white war-plume o’er thy brow can wave;— “But, once my own, mine all till in the grave The pomp is at an end—the crowds are gone- Each ear and heart still haunted by the tone Of that deep voice, which thrilled like Alla’s own! The Young all dazzled by the plumes and lances, The glittering throne, and Haram’s half-caught glances; The Old deep pondering on the promised reign Of peace and truth; and all the female train Ready to risk their eyes, could they but gaze A moment on that brow’s miraculous blaze! But there was one, among the chosen maids, Who blushed behind the gallery’s silken shades, One, to whose soul the pageant of to-day Has been like death!—you saw her pale dismay, Ye wondering sisterhood, and heard the burst Of exclamation from her lips, when first She saw that youth, too well, too dearly knownT Silently kneeling at the Prophet’s throne.m 3L 2 (S )li *nn LALLA ROOKH. That sat upon his victim’s downcast brow, Or mark how slow her step, how altered 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 Veiled Mokanna lay, While lamps around—not such as lend their ray, Glimmering and cold, to those who nightly pray In holy Koom,r 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, filled with Kishmee’s15 golden wine, And the red weepings of the Shiraz vine ; Of which his curtained lips full many a draught Took zealously, as if each drop they quaffed, Like Zemzem’s Spring of Holiness,0 had power To freshen the soul’s virtues into flower ! a The cities of Com (or Koom) and Cashan are full of mosques, mausoleums Wid sepulchres of the descendants of Ali, the Saints of Persia.—Chardin. b An island in the Persian Gulf, celebrated for its white wine. c The miraculous well at Mecca; so called, says Sale, from the murmuring of its waters.VEILED PROPHET OF KHORaSSAN. h< And still he drank and pondered—nor could see Th’ 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 ;a— “ 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 !b “ Soon shall I plant this foot upon the neck “ Of your foul race, and without fear or check, a The god Hannaman.—“ Apes are in many parts of India highly venerated, out of respect to the god Hannaman, a deity partaking of the form of that race.”—Pennant's Hindostan. See a curious account, in Stephen's Persia, of a solemn embassy from some part of the Indies to Goa, when the Portuguese were there, offering vast treasures for the recovery of a monkey’s tooth, which they held in great venera- tion, and which had been taken away upon the conquest of the kingdom of Jafanapatan. b This resolution of Eblis not to acknowledge the new creature, man, was, according to Mahometan tradition, thus adopted:—“ The earth (which God had selected for the materials of his work) was carried into Arabia to a place between Mecca and Tayef, where, being first kneaded by the angels, it was afterwauls fashioned by God himself into a human form, and left to dry for the space of forty days, or, as others say, as many years; the angels, in the mean time, often visiting it, and Eblis (then one of the angels nearest to God's presence, after wards the devil) among the rest; but he, not contented with looking at it, kicked it with his foot till it rung; and knowing God designed that creature tc be his superior, took a secret resolution never to acknowledge him as such.”— Sale, on the Koran. FLALLA ROOKH. u 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, cursed man my prey! “Ye wise, ye learned, 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 a— “Ye shall have honours—wealth,—yes, Sages, yes,— “ I know, grave fools, your wisdom’s nothingness ; “TJndazzled it can track yon starry sphere, “But a gilt stick, a bawble blinds it here. “How I shall laugh, when trumpeted along, “In lying speech, and still more lying song, “By these learned slaves, the meanest of the throng; “Their wits bought up, their wisdom shrunk so small, “ A sceptre’s puny point can wield it all! “Ye, too, believers of incredible creeds, “Whose faith enshrines the monsters which it breeds ; “Who, bolder ev’n than Nemrod, think to rise, “By nonsense heaped on nonsense, to the skies; a A kind of lantern formerly used by robbers, called the Hand of Glory, the candle for which was made of the fat of a dead malefactor. This, however was rather a western than an eastern superstition.VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 03 “ 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; “ 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 ;a “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, a The material of which images of Gaudma (the Birman Deity) are made, is held sacred. “ Birmans may not purchase the marble in mass, but are suffered, and indeed encouraged, to buy figures of the Deity ready made Symen's Ava, vol, ii. p. 376.64 LALLA ROOKH. “ And, soul or sense, whatever 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.5’ “ 0 my lost soul !55 exclaimed the shuddering maia, Whose ears had drunk like poison all he said:— Mokanna started—not abashed, afraid,— He knew no more of fear than one who dwells Beneath the tropics knows of icicles! But, in those dismal words that reached his ear, “ 0 my lost soul!55 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 ’twas from her, whom naught could dim Or sink till now, it startled even him. “Ha, my fair Priestess!55—thus, with ready wile, Th5 Impostor turned to greet her—“thou, whose smile “ Hath inspiration in its rosy beam “Beyond th5 Enthusiast’s hope or Prophet’s dream; “ Light of the Faith! who twin’st 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 “ H'hv dull were power, how joyless victory!VEILED PROPHET OF KIIORASSAN. G5 “Though borne by angels, if that smile of thine “Blessed 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 urns— “Nay, drink—in every drop life’s essence burns; “ ’Twill make that soul all fire, those eyes all light— “ Come, come, I want thy loveliest smiles to-night: “ There is a youth—why start?—thou saw’st him then ; “ Looked he not nobly? such the godlike men “ Thou’lt have to woo thee in the bowers above;— “ Though he, I fear, hath thoughts too stern for love, “Too ruled by that cold enemy of bliss “The world calls virtue—we must conqier this; “Nay, shrink not, pretty sage! ’tis not for thee “To scan the mazes of heaven’s mystery: “The steel must pass through fire, ere it can yield “ Fit instruments mighty hands to wield. F 266 LALLA ROOKH. u This very night I mean to try the art “ Of powerful beauty on that warrior’s heart. “ All that my Haram boasts of bloom or 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 sum “ 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 concentred pass, “ Dazzling and warm, as through love’s burning glass : “Whose gentle lips persuade without a word, “Whose words, ev’n when unmeaning, are adored,VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 67 “ Like inarticulate breathings from a shrine, “ Which our faith takes for granted are divine! “ Such is the nymph we want, all warmth and lignt, “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 clasped, her lips apart and pale, The maid had stood, gazing upon the Veil From which these words, like south winds through a fence Of Kerzrah flowers, came filled with pestilence ; a So boldly uttered 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 listened, like a dream Seemed all he said ; nor could her mind, whose beam As yet was weak, penetrate half his scheme. But when, at length, he uttered, “ Thou art she!” All flashed at once, and shriek:ng piteously, “ 0, 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,— a ‘‘It is commonly said in Persia, that if a man breathe in the hot south wind, which in June or July passes over that flower, (the Kerzereh,) it will kill him.”—Thevenot.LALLA ROOKtt. t>8 “ To live, the wanton of a fiend! to be “ The pander of his guilt—0 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— “ JVot him I loved—not him—0 ! do but say, “But swear to me this moment his not he, “And I will serve, dark fiend, will worship even thee!55 “Beware, young raving thing!—in time beware, “Nor utter what I cannot, must not bear, “ Ev5n from thy lips. Go—try thy lute, thy voice; “ The boy must feel their magic ;—I rejoice “To see those fires, no matter whence they rise, “ Once more illuming my fair Priestess5 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, rveet;—those eyes were maae “For love, not anger—I must be obeyed.55 “ Obeyed ?—5tis 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 ruined too ?VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. G9 “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 maddening hell-cup to the brim, “ Its witchery, fiend, 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 ruined—lost—my memory, like a charm “ Left by the dead, still keeps his soul from harm. “ 0 ! never let him know how deep the brow “ He kissed at parting is dishonoured now ;— “Ne’er tell him how debased, how sunk is she, “Whom once he loved—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 naught beneath God’s sky “ Could tempt or change me, and—so once thought I. “But this is past—though worse than death my lot, “Than hell—’tis 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 one whence she came, “But I may fade and fall withou a name.70 LALLA ROOKH, “ And thou—cursed ran or fiend, whate’er thou art, “ Who found’st this burning plague-spot in my heart, “And spread’st it—0, 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 teasing hum “Within the crocodile’s stretched jaws to come!a “ And so thou’lt fly, forsooth ?—what!—give up all “Thy chaste dominion in the Haram Hall, “Where now to Love and now7 to Alla given, “Half mistress and half saint, thou hang’st as even “As doth Medina’s tomb, ’twfixt hell and heaven! “ Thou’lt fly ?—as easily may reptiles run, “ The gaunt snake once hath fixed his eyes upon; “As easily, when caught, the prey may be “Plucked from his loving folds, as thou from me. “No, no, ’tis fixed—let good or ill betide, “ Thou’rt mine till death, till death Mokanna’s bride! “ Hast thou forgot thy oath?’* - a The humming-bird is said to run this risk for the purpose of picking the crocodile's teeth. The same circumstance is related of the lapwing, as a fact to which he was witness, by Paul Lucas, Voyage fait en 1714. ri he ancient story concerning the Trochilus, or humming-bird, entering with impi.nity into the mouth of the crocodile, is firmly believed at Java.—Barrow'i Cochin-China.VEILED PROPHET OF KHOKASSAS. } j At this dread word, The Maid, whose spirit his rude taunts had stirred Through all its depths, and roused an anger there, That, burst and lightened ev’n through her despair, Shrunk back, as if a blight were in the breath That spoke that word, and staggered pale as death. “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 swTeet 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 looked out: “ That oath thou heard’st more lips than thine repeat— “That cup—thou shudderest, Lady—was it sweet? “ That cup we pledged, the charnel’s choicest wine, “ Hath bound thee—ay—body and soul all mine; “ Bound thee by chains that, whether blessed or cursed “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 passed, “ 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—T2 LALLA EOOKH. “ As victims, love them; as the sea-dog dotes “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 !a— “And, now thou seest my soul's angelic hue, « ’Tis time these features were uncurtained too ;— “This brow, whose light—0 rare celestial light!— “ Hath been reserved to bless thy favored sight; • “ These dazzling eyes, before whose shrouded might “Thou’st seen immortal Man kneel down and quake— “ Would 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 maimed and monstrous upon earth; “And on that race who, though more vile they be “Than mowing apes, are demigods to me! “Here—-judge if hell, with all its power to damn, “ Can add one curse to the foul thing I am!’5 He raised his veil—the Maid turned slowly round, Looked at him—shrieked—and sunk upon the ground! a Circum easdem ripas (Nili, viz.) ales est Ibis. Ea serpentium populatur ova, gratissimamque ex his escam nidis suis refert.—Solinus,VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 73 On their arrival, next night, at the place of encampment, they were surprised and c.elighted to find the groves all around illuminated; some artists of Yamtcheoua 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-workb 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 a “ The Feast of Lanterns is celebrated at Yamtcheou with more magnifi- cence than anyhere else: and the it goes, that the illuminations there are so splendid, that an Emperor once, nor daring openly to leave his Court to go thither, committed himself with the Queen and several Princesses of his family into the hands of a magician, who promised to transport them thither in a trice. He made them in the night to ascend magnificent thrones that were borne up by swans, which in a moment arrived at Yamtcheou. The Emperor saw at his leisure all the solemnity, being carried upon a cloud that hovered over the city and descended by degrees; and came back again with the same speed' and equipage, nobody at court perceiving his absence.”—The Present State of China-> p. 156. k See a description of the nuptials of \ izier Alee in the Asiatic TLnnvnl Register of 1804. QLALLA ROOKH. 74 any thing else, except, perhaps, him who related it, hurried on through this s:ene 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 ■anxjety 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.3 Without a moment’s delay, young Feramorz was intro- duced, and Fadladeen, who could never make up 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 mus- nud near her, proceeded:— a “ The vulgar ascribe it to an accident that happened in the family of a famous mandarin, whose daughter, walking one evening upon the shore of a lake, fell in and was drowned; this afflicted father, with his family, ran thither, and, the better to find her, he caused a great company of lanterns to be lighted. All the inhabitants of the place thronged after him with torches. The year ensuing they made fires upon the shores the same day; they continued the ceremony every year, every one lighted his lantern, and by degrees it commenced into-a custom.”—Present State of China.VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAJN. 75 Prepare thy soul, young Azim!—thou hast braved The bands of Greece, still mighty though enslaved , Hast faced her phalanx, armed 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 splendours, 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;—76 LALLA ROOKH. From room to room the ready handmaids hie, Some skilled 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 :a-— While some bring leaves of Henna, to imbue The fingers’ ends with a bright roseate hue,b So bright, that in the mirror’s depth they seem Like tips of coral branches in the stream: And others mix the Kohol’s jetty dye, To give that long, dark languish to the eye,c Which makes the maids, whom kings are proud to cull From fair Circassia’s vales, so beautiful. All is in motion;—rings and plumes and pearls Are shining everywhere :—some younger girls a “Thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes.’’—Sol. Song. b “ They tinged the ends of her fingers scarlet with Henna, so that they lesembled branches of coral.”—Story of Prince Pultun in Pahardanuslu c “The women blacken the inside of their eyelids with a powder named the black Kohol ”—Pussel. “None of these ladies,” says Shaic, “take themselves to be completely dressed, till they have tinged the hair and edges of their eyelids with the powder of lead ore. Now,, as this operation is performed by dipping first into the pow- der a small wooden bodkin of the thickness of a quill, and then drawing it after- wards through the eyelids over the ball of the eye, we shall have a lively image of what the Prophet (Jer. iv. 30) may be supposed to mean by rending the eyes with painting. This practice is no doubt of great antiquity: for besides the instance already taken notice of, we find that where Jezebel is said (2 Kings ix. 30) to have painted her face, the original words are she adjusted her eyes with the rowder of had ore."—Show's Travels.VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. ?-? Are gone by moonlight to the garden-beds, To gather fresh, cool chaplets for their heads ;— Gay creatures! sweet, though mournful, ’tis to see How each prefers a garland from that tree Which brings to mind her childhood’s innocent day, And the dear fields and friendships far away. The maid of India, blessed again to hold In her full lap the Champac’s leaves of gold,a Thinks of the time when, by the Ganges’ flood, Her little playmates scattered many a bud Upon her long black hair, with glossy gleam Just dripping from the consecrated stream ; While the young Arab, haunted by the smell Of her own mountain flowers, as by a spell,— The sweet Elcaya,b and that courteous tree Which bows to all who seek its canopy,0— Sees, called up round her by these magic scents, The well, the camels, and her father’s tents ; Sighs for the home she left with little pain, And wishes ev’n its sorrows back again. a «The appearance of the blossoms of the gold-coloured Campac on the hla:k hair of the Indian women has supplied the Sanscrit Poets with many elegant allusions.”—See Asiatic Researches, vol. iv. b A tree famous for its perfume, and common on the hills of Vemen.—• Niebuhr. c Of the genus mimosa, « which droops its branches whenever any person approaches it, seeming as if it saluted those who retire under its shade ” * Niebuhr. o 278 L A L L A ROOKH, Meanwhile, through vast illuminated halls, Silent and bright, where nothing but the falls Of fragrant waters, gushing with cool sound From many a jasper fount, is heard around, Young Azim roams bewildered,—nor can guess What means this maze of light and loneliness. Here, the way leads, o’er tessellated floors Or mats of Cairo, through long corridors, Where, ranged in cassolets and silver urns, Sweet wood of aloe or of sandal burns; And spicy rods, such as illume at night The bowers of Tibet,"1 send forth odorous light, Like Peris’ wands, when pointing out the road For some pure Spirit to its blest abode :— And here, at once, the glittering saloon Bursts cn his sight, boundless and bright as noon; Where, in the midst, reflecting back the rays In broken rainbows, a fresh fountain plays High as th’ enamelled cupola, which towers All rich with Arabesques of gold and flowers : And the mosaic floor beneath shines through The sprinkling of that fountain’s silvery dew, Like the wet, glistening shells, of every dye, That on the margin of the Red Sea lie. a “ Cloves are a principal ingredient in the composition of the perfumed rods, which men of rank keep constantly burning in their presence.”—Turner’& Tibet.VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 79 Here too he traces the kind visitings Of woman’s love in those fair, living things Of land and wave, whose fate—in bondage thrown For their weak loveliness—is like her own! On one side gleaming with a sudden grace Through water, brilliant as the crystal vase In which it undulates, small fishes shine, Like golden ingots from a fairy mine ;— While, on the other, latticed lightly in With odoriferous woods of Comorin,3 Each brilliant bird that wings the air is seen;— Gay, sparkling loories, such as gleam between The crimson blossoms of the coral-treeb In the warm isles of India’s sunny sea; Mecca’s blue sacred pigeon,c and the "brush Of Hindostan,d whose holy warblings gush, At evening, from the tall pagoda’s top ;— Those golden birds that, in the spice-time, drop About the gardens, drunk with that sweet food* a « C’est d’ou vient le bois d’aloes, que les Arabes appellent Oud Comari, et celui du sandal, qui s’y trouve en grande quantite.”—D’Herbelot. b “ Thousands of variegated loories visit the coral-trees.”—Barrow. c “In Mecca there are quantities of blue pigeons, which none will affright or abuse, much less kill.”—Pitt’s Account of the Mahometans. d “The Pagoda Thrush is esteemed among the first choristers of India. It Bits perched on the sacred pagodas, and from thence delivers its melodious song.”' —Pennant’s Hindostan. e Tavernier adds, that while the Birds of Paradise lie in this intoxicated state, the emmets come and eat off their legs; and that hence it is they are said to have no feet. *L ALLA ROOKH, b 0 Whose scent hath lured them o’er the summer flood;* And those that under Araby’s soft sun Build their high nests of budding cinnamon ;b In short, all rare and beauteous things, that fly Through the pure element, here calmly lie Sleeping in light, like the green buds0 that dwell In Eden’s radiant fields of asphodel! So on, through scenes past all imagining, More like the luxuries of that impious king,d Whom Death’s dark Angel, with his lightning torch, Struck down and blasted ev’n in Pleasure’s porch, Than the pure dwelling of a Prophet sent, Armed with Heaven’s sword, for man’s enfranchisement—- Young Azim wandered, looking sternly round, His simple garb and war-boots’ clanking sound But ill according with the pomp and grace And silent lull of that voluptuous place. a Birds of Paradise, which, at the nutmeg season, come in flights from the southern isles to India; and « the strength of the nutmeg,” says Tavernier, “ so intoxicates them that they fall dead drunk to the earth.” b « That bird which liveth in Arabia, and buildeth its nest with cinnamon.”— Brown’s Vulgar Errors. c « The spirits of the martyrs will be lodged in the crops of green birds.”— Gibbon, vol. ix. p. 421. d Shedad, who made the delicious gardens of Trim, in imitation of Paradise* and was destroyed by lightning the first time he attempted to enter them.VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. SI “Is this, then,” thought the youth, “ is this the way “To free man’s spirit from the deadening sway “ Of worldly sloth,—to teach him, while he lives, “To know no bliss but that which virtue eives, “ And when he dies, to leave his lofty name “ A light, a landmark on the cliffs of fame? “It was not so, Land of the generous thought “And daring deed, thy godlike sages taught; “ It was not thus, in bowers of wanton ease, “ Thy Freedom nursed her sacred energies ; “ 0 ! not beneath th’ enfeebling, withering glow “ Of such dull luxury did those myrtles grow, “ With which she wreathed her sword, when she would dare “ Immortal deeds ; but in the bracing air “Of toil,—of temperance,—of that high, rare, “Ethereal virtue, which alone can breathe “Life, health, and lustre into Freedom’s wreath. “Who, that surveys this span of earth we press,— “This speck of life in time’s great wilderness, “This narrow isthmus ’twixt two boundless seas, “The past, the future, two eternities!— “ Would sully the bright spot, or leave it bare, “When he might build him a proud temple there, “A name, that long shall hallow all its space. “And be each purer soul’s high resting-place? “Bat no—it cannot be, that one, whom God “Has sent to break the wizard Falsehood’s rod,—82 LALLA ROOKH. “ A Prophet of the truth, whose mission draws “ Its rites from Heaven, should thus profane its cause “ With the world’s vulgar pomps ;—no, no,—I see— “He thinks me weak—this glare of luxury “Is but to tempt, to try the eaglet gaze “Of my young soul—shine on, ’twill stand the blaze!” So thought the youth:—but, ev’n while he defied This witching scene, he felt its witchery glide Through every sense. The perfume breathing round, Like a pervading spirit;—the still sound Of falling waters, lulling as the song Of Indian bees at sunset, when they throng Around the fragrant Nilica, and deep In its blue blossoms hum themselves to sleep;a ’ And music, too—dear music ! that can touch Beyond all else the soul that loves it much— Now heard far off, so far as but to seem Like the faint, exquisite music of a dream;—■ All was too much for him, too full of bliss; The heart could nothing feel, that felt not this ; Softened, he sunk upon a couch, and gave His soul up to sweet thoughts, like wave on wave * «My Pandits assure me that the plant before us (the Nilica) is then Wephalica, thus named because the bees are supposed to sleep on its blossoms.”- Sir IV, Jones.VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN, Succeeding in smooth seas, when storms are laid; He thought of Zelica, his own dear maid, And of the time when, full of blissful sighs, They sat and looked into each other’s eyes, Silent and happy—as if God had given Naught else worth looking at on this side heaven. o o “ 0 my loved mistress, thou, whose spirit stilt “ Is with me, round me, wander where I will— “ It is for thee, for thee alone I seek “ The paths of glory; to light up thy cheek “With warm approval—in that gentle look, “To read my praise, as in an angel’s book, “ And think all toils rewarded, when from tnee “ I gain a smile worth immortality! “How snail I bear the moment, when restored “To that young heart where I alone am Lord, “Though of such bliss unworthy,—since the best “Alone deserve to be the happiest;— “When from those lips, unbreathed upon for years, “I shall again kiss off the soulfelt tears, “ And find those tears warm as when last they starter “ Those sacred kisses pure as when wt parted! “ 0 my own life!—why should a single day, “A moment keep me from those arms away?” 84 LALLA ROOKH, While thus he thinks, still nearer, on the breeze, Come those delicious, dreamlike harmonies, Each note of which but adds new, downy links To the soft chain in which his spirit sinks. He turns him toward the sound, and far away Through a long vista, sparkling with the play Of countless lamps,—like the rich track which Day Leaves on the waters, when he sinks from us, So long the path, its light so tremulous,— He sees a group of female forms advance, Some chained together in the mazy dance By fetters forged in the green sunny bowers, As they were captives to the King of Flowers ;a And some disporting round, unlinked and free. Who seemed to mock their sisters’ slavery; And round and round them still, in wheeling flight Went, like gay moths about a lamp at night; While others waked, as gracefully along Their feet kept time, the very soul of song From psaltery, pipe, and lutes of heavenly thrill, Or their own youthful voices, heavenlier still. And now they come, now pass before his eye, Forms such as Nature moulds, when she would vie With Fancy’s pencil, and give birth to things Lovely beyond its fairest picturings. a “They deferred it till the King of Flowers should ascend his throne of rnamelled foliage.”—The BahardanusfuVEILED PROPHET OP KHORASSAK 85 Awhile they dance before him, then divide, Breaking, like rosy clouds at eventide Around the rich pavilion of the sun,— Till, silently dispersing, one by one, Through many a path, that from the chamber leads To gardens, terraces, and moonlight meads, Their distant laughter conies upon the wind, And but one trembling nymph remains behind,— Beckoning them back in vain, for they are gone, And she is left in all that light alone; No veil to curtain o’er her beauteous brow, r In its young bashfulness more beauteous now; But a light golden chain-work round her hair,a Such as the maids of Yezd13 and Shiraz wear, From which, on either side, gracefully hung A golden amulet, in th’ Arab tongue, Engraven o’er with some immortal line From Holy Writ, or bard scarce less divine; While her left hand, as shrinkingly she stood, Held a small lute of gold and sandal-wood, Which, once or twice, she touched with hurried strain, Then took her trembling fingers off again. a“One of the head-dresses of the Persian women is composed of a light golden chain-work, set with small pearls, with a thin gold plate pendant, about the bigness of a crown-piece, on which is impressed an Arabian prayer, and which hangs upon the cheek below the ear.”—Hanway's Travels. b “Certainly the women of Yezd are the handsomest women in Persia Tie proverb is, that to live happy a man must have a wife of Yezd, eat the bn.ad of Yezdccas, and drink the wine of Shiraz.”—Tavernier• H96 L A L L A ROOKH. But when length a timid glance she stole At Azim, t..e sweet gravity of soul She saw through all his features, calmed her fear, And, like a half-tamed antelope, more near, Though shrinking still, she came;—then sat her down Upon a musnud’sa edge, and bolder grown, In the pathetic mode of Isfahan13 Touched a preluding strain, and thus began:— There’s a bower of roses by Bendemeer’s c stream, And the nightingale sings round it all the day long; In the time of my childhood ’twas like a sweet dream, To sit in the roses and hear the bird’s song. That bower and its music I never forget, But oft when alone, in the bloom of the year, I think—Is the nightingale singing there yet? Are the roses still bright by the calm Bendemeer ? No, the roses soon withered that hung o’er the wave, But some blossoms were gathered, while freshly they shone, a Musnuds are cushioned seats, usually reserved for persons of distinction. b The Persians, like the ancient Greeks, call their musical modes or Perdat Dy the name of different countries or cities, as the mode of Isfahan, the mode of Irak, &c. c A river which flows near the ruins of Chilminar.VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASS/IN. 8: \nd a dew was distilled from their flowers, that gave All the fragrance of summer, when summer was gone, Thus memory draws from delight, ere it dies, An essence that breathes of it many a year; Thus bright to my soul, as ’twas then to my eyes, Is that bower on the banks of the calm Bendemeer ! “Poor maiden!” thought the youth, “if thou wert sent, “ With thy soft lute and beauty’s blandishment, “To wake unholy wishes in this heart, “ Or tempt its truth, thou little know’st the art. “For though thy lip should sweetly counsel wrong, “Those vestal eyes would disavow its song. “ But thou hast breathed such purity, thy lay “ Returns so fondly to youth’s virtuous day, “And leads thy soul—if e’er it wandered thence— “ So gently back to its first innocence, “That I would sooner stop the unchained dove, “ When swift returning to its home of love, “And round its snowy wing new fetters twine, “ Than turn from virtue one pure wish of thine!” Scarce had this feeling passed, when, sparkling thiougl The gently opened curt fins of light blue88 LALLA ROOKH, That veiled the breezy casement, countless eyes. Peeping like stars through the blue evening skies, Looked laughing in, as if to mock the pair That sat so still and melancholy there:— And now the curtains fly apart, and in From the cool air, ’mid showers of jessamine Which those without fling after them in play, Two lightsome maidens spring,—lightsome as they Who live in th’ air on odours,—and around The bright saloon, scarce conscious of the ground, Chase one another, in a varying dance Of mirth and languor, coyness and advance, Too eloquently like love’s warm pursuit:— While she, who sung so gently to the lute Her dream of home, steals timidly away, Shrinking as violets do in summer’s ray,— But takes with her from Azim’s heart that sigh We sometimes give to forms that pass us by In the world’s crowd, too lovely to remain Creatures of light we never see again! Around the white necks of the nymphs who dancei Hung carcanets of orient gems, that glanced More brilliant than the sea-glass glittering o’er The hills of crystal on the Caspian shore;a a “To the north of us (on the coast of the Caspian, near Badku^ was * mountain, which sparkled like diamonds, arising from the sea-glass and cnVEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. While from their long, dark tresses, in a fall Of curls descending, bells as musical As those that, on tl e golden-shafted trees Of Eden, shake m the eternal breeze,3 Rung round their steps, at every bound more sweet, As ’twere th’ ecstatic language of their feet. At length the chase was o’er, and they stood wreathed Within each othei’s arms; while soft there breathed Through the cool casement, mingled with the sighs Of moonlight flowers, music that seemed to rise From some still lake, so liquidly it rose ; And, as it swelled again at each faint close, The ear could track through all that maze of chords And young sweet voices, these impassioned words:— A Spirit there is, whose fragrant sigh Is burning now through earth and air; Where cheeks are blushing, the Spirit is nigh, Where lips are meeting, the Spirit is there! His breath is the soul of flowers like these, And his floating eyes—0 ! they resemble b with which it abounds.’7—Journey of the Russian Ambassador to Persia, 1746. a “To which will be added the sound of the bells, hanging on the trees, which will be put in motion by the wind proceeding from the throne of God, as often as the blessed wish for music.”—Sale. b “ Who^e w*mt» n eyes resemble blue water-lilies, agitated by the oreeze.’ — Jay ad c C —O* h2DO LALLA R 0 O K H. Blue water-lilits,a when the breeze Is making the stream around them tremble. Hail to thee, hail to thee, kindling power! Spirit of Love, Spirit of Bliss! Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour, And there never was moonlight so sweet as this By the fair and brave Who blushing unite, Like the sun and wave, When they meet at night:—* By the tear that shows When passion is nigh, As the rain-drop flows From the heat of the sky;— By the first love-beat Of the youthful heart. By the bliss to meet, %j * And the pain to part;—- By all that thou hast To mortals given, * The blue lotos, which grows in Cashmere and in Rersaa.VEILED PROPHET OF K H O R A S S A IS, qj Which—0, could it last, This earth were heaven! We call thee hither, entrancing Power! Spirit of Love ! Spirit of Bliss ! Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour, And there never was moonlight so sweet as this! Impatient of a scene, whose luxuries stole, Spite of himself, too deep into his soul, And where, midst all that the young heart loves most, Flowers, music, smiles, to yield was to be lost, The youth had started up, and turned away From the light nymphs, and their luxurious lay, To muse upon the pictures that hung round,a— Bright images, that spoke without a sound, And views, like vistas into fairy ground. But here again new spells came o’er his sense :— All that the pencil’s mute omnipotence Could call up into life, of soft and fair, Of fond and passionate, was glowing there; * It has been generally supposed that the Mahometans prohibit all pictures of animals; but Toderini shows that, though the practice is forbidden by the Koran, they are not more averse to painted figures and images than other people. From Mr. Murphy’s work, too, we find that the Arabs of Spain had no objection to the introduction of figures into painting.02 L A L L A KOOK IT. Nor yet too warm, but touched with that fine art Which paints of pleasure but the purer part; Which knows ev’n Beauty when half-veiled is best,— Like her own radiant planet of the west, Whose orb when half retired looks loveliest.8 There hung the history of the Genii-King, Traced through each gay, voluptuous wandering With her from Saba’s bowers, in whose bright eyes He read that to be blessed is to be wise ;b Here fond Zuleikac woos with open arms The Hebrew boy, who flies from her young charms, Yet, flying, turns to gaze, and, half undone, Wishes that heaven and she could both be won ; u This is not quite astronomically true. “ Dr. Hadley (says Keil) has shown Venus is brightest when she is about- forty degrees removed from the sun; and that then but only a fourth pun of her lucid disk is to be set n from the earth.” b For the loves of King Solomon (who was supposed to preside over the whole race of Genii) with Balkis, the Queen of Sheba, or Saba, see D’Herbelot, and the Notes on the Koran, chap. 2. “ In the palace which Solomon ordered to be built against the arrival of the Queen*of Saba, the floor or pavement was of transparent glass, laid over running water, in which fish were swimming.” This led the Queen into a very natural mistake, which the Koran has not thought beneath its dignity to commemorate. “ It was said unto her, ‘Enter tire palace.’ And when she saw it she imagined it to be a great water; and she discovered her legs by lifting up her robe to pass through it. Whereupon Solomon said to her, ‘ Verily, this is the place evenly floored with glass.’ ”—Chap. 27. c The wife of Potiphar, thus named by the Orientals. “The passion which this frail beauty of antiquity conceived for her young Hebrew slave has given rise to a much esteemed poem in the Persian language, entitled Yusrf van ZeUJcha, by Noureddin Jami: the manuscript copy of which, in the Bodleian Library at Oxford, is supposed to be the finest in the whole world.”—Note upon NotCs Translation of Hafez.VEILED PROPHET OF K1IORASSA.N And here Mohammed, bom for love and smile. Forgets the Koran in his Mary’s smile ;— Then beckons some kind angel from above With a new text to consecrate their love.a With rapid step, yet pleased and lingering eye? Did the youth pass these pictured stories by, And hastened to a casement, where the light Of the calm moon came in, and freshly bright The fields without were seen, sleeping as still As if no life remained in breeze or rill. Here mused he, while the music, now less near, Breamed with a holier language on his ear, As though the distance, and that heavenly ray Through which the sounds came floating, took awav All that had been too earthly in the lay. 0 ! could he listen to such sounds unmoved, And by that light—nor dream of her he loved ? Dream on, unconscious boy! while yet thou may’st; * ’Tis the last bliss thy soul shall ever taste. Clasp yet awhile her image to thy heart Ere all the light, that made it dear, depart. a The particulars of Mahomet’s amour with Mary, the Coptic girl, in justify cation of which lie added a new chapter to the Koran, may be found in Gagnie Notes upon Abulfeda, p. 151.94 LALLA ROOKH. Think of her smiles as when thou saw’st them last, Clear, beautiful, by naught of earth overcast; Recall her tears, to thee at parting given, Pure as they weep, if angels weep, in heaven. Think, in her own still bower she waits thee now, With the same glow of heart and bloom of brow, Yet shrined in solitude—thine all, thine only, Like the one star above thee, bright and lonely. 0 that a dream so sweet, so long enjoyed, Should be so sadly, cruelly destroyed! The song is hushed, the laughing nymphs are flown, And he is left, musing of bliss, alone;— Alone?—no, not alone—that heavy sigh, That sob of grief, which broke from some one nigh—- Whose could it be ?—alas! is misery found Here, even here, on this enchanted ground ? He turns, and sees a female form, close veiled, Leaning, as if both heart and strength had tailed, Against a pillar near;—not glittering o’er With gems and wreaths, such as the others wore, But in that deep-blue melancholy dress,a Bokhara’s maidens wear in mindfulness Of friends or kindred, dead or far away;— And such as Zelica had on that day a “ Deep blue is their mourning colour.”—Hanway,VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN, 95 He left her—when, with heart too full to sneak, He took away her last warm tears upon his cheek. A strange emotion stirs within him,—more Than mere compassion ever waked before; Unconsciously he opes his arms, while she Springs forward, as with life’s last energy, But, swooning in that one convulsive bound, Sinks, ere she reach his arms, upon the ground;—• Her veil falls off—her faint hands clasp his knees— ’Tis she herself!—’tis Zelica he sees! But, ah, so pale, so changed—none but a lover Could in that wreck of beauty’s shrine discover The once adored divinity—ev’n he Stood for some moments mute, and doubtingly Put back the ringlets from her brow, and gazed Upon those lids, where once such lustre blazed Ere he could think she was indeed his own, Own darling maid, whom he so long had known In joy and sorrow, beautiful in both; Who, ev’n when grief was heaviest—when loath He left her for the wars—in that worst hour Sat in her sorrow like the sweet night-flower,a When darkness brings its weeping glories out, And spreads its sighs like frankincense about. * The sorrowful nyctanthes, which begins to spread its rich odour a/tei sunset.90 LALLA ROOK11 “Look up, my Zelica—one moment show “Those gentle eyes to me, that I may know “Thy life, thy loveliness is not all gone, “ But there, at least, shines as it ever shone. “ Come, look upon thy Azim—one clear glance, “Like those of old, were heaven! whatever chance “Hath brought thee here, 0, ’twas a blessed one! “ There—my loved lips—they move—that kiss hath run “ Like the first shoot of life through every vein., “And now I clasp her, mine, all mine again. “ 0 the delight—now, in this very hour, “ When, had the whole rich world been m my power, “I should have singled out thee, only thee, “From the whole world’s collected treasury— “To have thee here—to hang thus fondly o’er “My own best, purest Zelica once more!” It was indeed the touch of those fond lips Upon her eyes that chased their short eclipse, And, gradual as the snow, at heaven’s breath, Melts off and shows the azure flowers beneath, Her lids unclosed, and the bright eyes were seen Gazing on his—not, as they late had been, Quick, restless, wild, but mournfully serene: As if to lie, ev’n for that tranced minute, So near his heart, had consolation in it;VEILED PROPHET OF .(HORASSAN 97 And thus to wake in his beloved caress Took from her soul one half its wretchedness. But, when she heard him call her good and pure, O, ’twas too much—too dreadful to endure! Shuddering she broke away from his embrace, And, hiding with both hands her guilty face, Said, in a tone whose anguish would have riven A heart of very marble, “Pure!—0 heaven!”— That tone—those looks so changed—the withering blight, That sin and sorrow leave where’er they light; The dead despondency of those sunk eyes, Where once, had he thus met her by surprise, He would have seen himself, too happy boy, Reflected in a thousand lights of joy; And then the place,—that bright, unholy place, Where vice lay hid beneath each winning grace And charm of luxury, as the viper weaves Its wily covering of sweet balsam leaves,3— All struck upon his heart, sudden and cold As death itself;—it needs not to be told— No, no—he sees it all, plain as the brand Of burning shame can mark—whate’er '.he hand, a“ Concerning the vipers, which Pliny says were frequent among the balsam-trees, I made very particular inquiry; several were brougnt me alive both to Yambo and Jidda.”—Bruce. I98 L A L L A ROOK 1L That could from heaven and him such brightness sever, ’Tis done—to heaven and him she’s lost for ever! It was a dreadful moment; not the tears, The lingering, lasting misery of years Could match that minute’s anguish—all the worst Of sorrow’s elements in that dark burst Broke o’er his soul, and, with one crash of fate, Laid the whole hopes of his life desolate. “0! curse me not,” she cried, as wild he tossed His desperate hand towards heaven—“though I am lost, “Think not that guilt, that falsehood made me fall; “No, no—’twas grief, ’twas madness did it all! “Nay, doubt me not—though all thy love hath ceased— “ I know it hath—yet, yet believe, at least, “ That every spark of reason’s light must be “ Quenched in this brain, ere I could stray from thee. “They told me thou wert dead—why, Azim, why “Did we not, both of us. that instant die “ When we were parted ? 0 ! couldst thou but know “With what a deep devotedness of woe “I wept thy absence—o’er and o’er again “ Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew pain, “ And memory, like a drop that, night and day, “ Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away. “ Didst thou but know how pale I sat at home, “My eyes still turned the way thou wert to come,VEILED PROP H Ei OF KHORASSAN. f){) “ And, all the long, long night of hope and fear, “ Thy voice and step still sounding in my ear— “ 0 God! thou wouldst not wonder that, at last, “ When every hope was all at once o’ercast, “ When 1 heard frightful voices round me say, “ Azim is dead!—this wretched brain gave way, “ And I became a wreck, at random driven, “ Without one glimpse of reason or of heaven— “All wild—and ev’n this quenchless love within “ Turned to foul fires to light me into sin!— “Thou pitiest me—I knew thou wouldst—that sky “Hath naught beneath it half so lorn as I. “The fiend, who lured me hither—hist! come near “ Or thou too, thou art lost, if he should hear— “ Told me such things—0 ! with such devilish art, “As would have ruined ev’n a holier heart— “Of thee, and of that ever-radiant sphere, “Where blessed at length, if I but served him here, “ I should for ever live in thy dear sight, “And drink from those pure eyes eternal light. “ Think, think how lost, how maddened I must be, “ To hope that guilt could lead to God or thee! Thou wreep’st for me—do weep—0 that I durst “Kiss off that tear! but, no—these lips are cursed; “ They must not touch thee;—one divine caress, “ One blessed moment of forgetfulness100 LALLA ROOKH, “I’ve had within those arms, and that shall lie, “ Shrined in my soul’s deep memory till I die; “ The last of joy’s last relics here below, “ The one sweet drop, in all this waste of woe, “My heart has treasured from affection’s spring, “ To soothe and cool its deadly withering! “ But thou—yes, thou musi; go—for ever go , “ This place is not for thee—for thee! 0, no ; “ Did I but tell thee half, thy tortured brain “ Would burn like mine, and mine go wild again! “Enough, that Guilt reigns here—that hearts, once good, “Now tainted, chilled, and broken, are his food.— “ Enough, that we are parted—that there rolls “ A flood of headlong fate between our souls, “ Whose darkness severs me as wide from thee “As hell from heaven, to all eternity!” “Zelica, Zelica!” the youth exclaimed, In all the tortures of a mind inflamed Almost to madness—“by that sacred heaven, “ Where yet, if prayers can move, thou’lt be forgiven, “As thou art here—here, in this writhing heart, “ All sinful, wild, and ruined as thou art!— “ By the remembrance of our once pure love, “Which, like a churchyard light, still burns above “ The grave of our lost souls—which guilt in thee “ Cannot extinguish, nor despair in me !—VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN, \01 “ I do conjure, implore thee to fly hence ; “ If thou hast yet one spark of innocence, “ Fly with me from this place----” “ With thee! 0 bliss! “ ’Tis worth whole years of torment to hear this. “ What! take the lost one with thee ?—let her rove “By thy dear side, as in those days of love, “ When we were both so happy, both so pure— “Too heavenly dream! if there’s on earth a cure “For the sunk heart, ’tis this—day after day “To be the blest companion of thy way; “To hear thy angel eloquence—to see “ Those virtuous eyes for ever turned on me ; “And, in their light re-chastened silently, “ Like the stained web that whitens in the sun, “ Grow pure by being purely shone upon! “And thou wilt pray for me—I know thou will: “At the dim vesper hour, when thoughts of guilt “ Come heaviest o’er the heart, thou’lt lift thine eyes, “ Full of sweet tears, unto the darkening skies, “And plead for me with Heaven, till I can dare “To fix my own weak, sinful glances there; “Till the good angels, when they see me cling “For ever near thee, pale and sorrowing, “ Shall for thy sake pronounce my soul forgiven, “ And bid thee take thy weeping slave to heaven. “ 0 yes, I’ll fly with tl *e-” i 2S02 LALLA ROOKH. 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!” O 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, naught 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, 0 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—0 ! 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!” / £ 11. F O PROPHET OF K H O R AS ts A N. K» With all that strength which madness lends the weak, She 2ur.*r awo his arm, and, .vrh a shriek, Whose round, 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 tire sun, and soon was out of eight <*04 L A L L A ROOKH. Lalla Rookii could think of nothing all day but thv misery of these two young lovers. Her gayety was gone, and she looked pensively even upon Fadladeen. She felt, too, wither t knowing why, a sort of uneasy pleasure in imagining that Aztm must have been just such a youth as Feramorz ; just as worthy to enjoy all the blessings, without of the pangs, of that illusive passion, which too often, like the sunny apples of Istkahar,a is all sweetness on one ante a*d ad bitten.c.ss on the othe.r ✓ As thev passed along a sequestered river after sunned they saw a vcune* Hindoo girl upon the bank/ whose employ mem seemed to them so str ange, that they stopped rheir palankeens to observe her. She had lighted a smah lamp, filled with oil of cocoa, and, placing it in an earthen dish, adorned with a wreath of flowers, had committed it with a trembling hand to the stream ; and was now anxiously matching its progress down the current, heedless of the gay nvalcacle which had drawn up beside her. Lalla Rookii * In the territory of Istkahar there is a kind of apple, half of which is sweet ar.u naif sour.”—Ebn Haukal. b For an account of this ceremony, see Grandpre s Voyage in the Indian Ocean.VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. J0r> was all curiosity;—when one of her attendants, who had lived upon the banks of the Ganges, (where this ceremony is so frequent, that often, in the dusk of the evening, the rivei is seen glittering all over with lights, like the Oton-tala or Sea of Stars,a) informed the Princess that it was the usual way in which the friends of those who had gone on dangerous voyages offered up vows for their safe return. If the lamp sunk immediately, the omen was disastrous: but if it went shining down the stream, and continued to bum till entirely out of sight, the return of the beloved object was considereo as certain. Lalla Rookh, as they moved on, more than once looked back, to observe how the young Hindoo’s lamp proceeded ; and, while she saw with pleasure that it was still unextin- guished, she could not help fearing that all the hopes of this life were no better than that feeble light upon the river. The remainder of the journey was passed in silence. She now, for the first time, felt that shade of melancholy, which comes over the youthful maiden’s heart, as sweet and transient as her own breath upon a mirror; nor was it till she heard the lute of Feramorz, touched lightly at the door of her pavilion, that she waked from the reverie in which she had a “The place where the Whangho, a river of Tibet, rises, and where there are more than a hundred springs, which sparkle like stars; whence it is called Hotun-nor, that is, the Sea of Stars.”—Description of Tibet in Pinkerton.100 LALLA ROOK H. been wandering. Instantly her eyes were lighted up with pleasure; and, after a few unheard remarks from Fapladeen upon the indecorum of a poet seating himself in presence of a Princess, every thing was arranged as on the preceding evening, and all listened with eagerness, while the story was thus continued:—VEILED PROPHET OF K II 0 R A S S A N. 107 Whose are the gilded tents that crowd the way, Where all was waste and silent yesterday ? This City of War which, in a few short hours, Hath sprung up here,a as if the magic powers Of Him who, in the twinkling* of a star, Built the high pillared halls of Chilminar,*3 a “The Lescar or Imperial Camp is divided, like a regular town, into squares, alleys, and streets, and from a rising ground furnishes one of the most agreeable prospects in the world. Starting up in a few hours in an uninhabited plain, it raises the idea of a city built by enchantment. Even those who leave their houses in cities to follow the prince in his progress, are frequently so charmed v/ith the Lescar, when situated in a beautiful and convenient place that they cannot prevail with themselves to remove. To prevent this inconve- nience to the court, the Emperor, after sufficient time is allowed to the tradesmen to follow, orders them to be burnt out of their tents.’’—Dow's Hindostan. Colonel Wilks gives a lively picture of an Eastern encampment:—“His camp, like that of most Indian armies, exhibited a motley collection of covers from the scorching sun and dews of the night, variegated according to the taste or means of each individual, by extensive enclosures of coloured calico surround- ing superb suites of tents; by ragged cloths or blankets stretched over sticks or oranches; palm leaves hastily spread over similar supports; handsome tents and splendid canopies; horses, oxen, elephants, and camels; a!i intermixed without any exterior mark of order or design, except tire tLgs of thr chiefs, which ususd’y mark the centres of a congeries of these masses, the onh regular pait of dr encampment being the streets of shops, each of which ip constructed nearly in the manner of a booth at an English fair.”—History ul S/ceici.t, •>/ 0 i ; India. b The edifices of Chilminar and Balbec £ie si: on hs.vj been vAL ! * the Genii, acting under the orders of Jan ben .7o ^vened the wzj'.I ' before the tirr^ of Adam.108 LALLA ROOKh Had conjured up, far as the eye can This world of tents, and domes, and bright armoi ry;— Princely pavilions, screened by many a fold Of crimson cloth, and topped with balls of gold Steeds, with their housings of rich silver swim Their chains and poitrels glittering in the sun; And camels, tufted o’er with Yemen’s shells,1* Shaking in every breeze their light-toned bells. But yester-eve, so motionless around, So mute was this wide plain, that not a sound But the far torrent, or the locust birdb Hunting among the thickets, could be heard;— Yet hark! what discords now, of every kind, Shouts, laughs, and screams are revelling in the wind; The neigh of cavalry ;—the tinkling throngs Of laden camels and their drivers’ songs ;c— a “ A superb camel, ornamented with strings and tufts of small shells.”—» AH Tey. b A native of Khorassan, and allured southward by means of the water of a fountain between Shiraz and Ispahan, called the Fountain of Birds, of which it is so fond that it will follow wherever that water is carried. c “ Some of the camels have bells about their necks, and some about their legs, like those which our carriers put about their fore-horses’ necks, which, together with the servants (who belong to the camels, and travel on foot) singing all nigh!, make a pleasant noise, and the journey passes away delightfully.”— Pitt’s Account of the Mahometans. « The camel-driver follows the camels singing, and sometimes playing upon his pipe ; the louder he sings and pipes, the faster the camels go. Nay, they will stand still when he gives over his music.”—Tavernier,VEILED PROPHET OF K H O R A S S A N. 1Q*j Ringing of arms, and flapping in the breeze Of streamers from ten thousand canopies ;— War-music, bursting out from time to time, With gong and tymbalon’s tremendous chime ;— Or, in the pause, when harsher sounds are mute, The mellow breathings of some horn or flute, That far off, broken by the eagle note Of th’ Abyssinian trumpet,a swell and float. Who leads this mighty army !—ask ye u who And mark ye not those banners of dark hue, The Night and Shadow,b over yonder tent ?— It is the Caliph’s glorious armament. Roused in his Palace by the dread alarms, That hourly came, of the false Prophet’s arms, And of his host of infidels, who hurled Defiance fierce at Islam,c and the world,— 'Though worn with Grecian warfare, and behind The veils of his bright Palace calm reclined, Yet brooked he not such blasphemy should stain, Thus unrevenged, the evening of his reign; a “This trumpet is often called, in Abyssinia, nesser cano, which signifies the Note of the Eagle.’'—Note of Bruce’s Editor. h The two black standards borne before the Caliphs of the House ot Abbas were called, allegorically, The Night and The Shadow.—See Gibbon. c The Mahometan religion. hi 10 L A L L A R 0 0 K H. But, having sworn upon the Holy Gra\ea To conquer or to perish, once more gave His shadowy banners proudly to the breeze, And with an army nursed in victories, Here stands to crush the rebels that o’errun His blest and beauteous Province of the Sun. Ne’er did the march of Mahadi display Such pomp before ;—not ev’n when on his way To Mecca’s Temple, when both land and sea Were spoiled to feed the Pilgrim’s luxury ;b When round him, mid the burning sands, he sa w Fruits of the North in icy freshness thaw, And cooled his thirsty lip, beneath the glow Of Mecca’s sun, with urns of Persian snow :r— Nor e’er did armament more grand than that Pour from the kingdoms of the Caliphat. First, in the van, the People of the Rock,'1 On their light mountain steeds, of royal stock ;e a “ The Persians swear by the Tomb of Shah Be>ade, who is buried at Casbin; and when one desires another to asseverate a matter, he will ask him if lie dare swear by the Holy Grave."—Slruy. b Mahadi, in a single pilgrimage to Mecca, expended six millions of dinars of gold. . c Nivem Meccam apportavit, rem ibi aut nunquam aut raro visam.—Jlbul'hUu d The inhabitants of Hejaz or Arabia Petraea, called by an Eastern writer “ The People of the Rock.”—Ebu Haukal. « « Those horses, called by the Arabians Kochiani, of whom a written genealogy has been kept for two thousand years. They are said to derive theii origin from King Solomon’s steeds."—Niebuhr,VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. ] j | Then, chieftains of Damascus, proud to see The flashing of their swords’ rich marquetry ;a Men from the regions near the Volga’s mouth, Mixed with the rude, black archers of the South; And Indian lancers, in white-turbaned ranks, From the far Sinde, or Attock’s sacred banks, With dusky legions from the Land of Myrrh,b And many a mace-armed Moor, and Mid-sea islander. Nor less in number, though more new and rude In warfare’s school, was the vast multitude That, fired by zeal, or by oppression wronged, Round the white standard of th’ Impostor thronged, Beside his thousands of Believers—blind, Burning and headlong as the Sarniel wind— Many who felt, and more who feared to feel The bloody Islamite’s converting steel, Flocked to his banner;—Chiefs of th’ Uzbek race, Waving their heron crests with martial grace ;c Turkomans, countless as their flocks, led forth From th’ aromatic pastures of the North ; a “ Many of the figures on the blades of their swords are wrought in gold or silver, or in marquetry with small gems.”—Asiat. Misc. v. i. b Azab or Saba. c “The chiefs of the Uzbek Tartars wear a plume of white heron’s feathers in their turbans.”—Account of Independent Tartary.L A L L A ROOKH. 112 Wild warriors of the turquoise hills,a—and those Who dwell beyond the everlasting snows Of Hindoo Kosn,b in stormy freedom bred, Their fort the rock, their camp the torrent’s bed. But none, of all who owned the Chief’s command, Rushed to that battle-field with bolder hand, Or sterner hate, than Iran’s outlawed men, Her Worshippers of Fire0—all panting then For vengeance on th’ accursed Saracen; Vengeance at last for their dear country spurned Her throne usurped, and her bright shrines o’erturned. From Yezd’s"1 eternal Mansion of the Fire, Where aged saints in dreams of heaven expire; From Badku, and those fountains of blue flame That bum into the Caspian,0 fierce they came, ft In the mountains of Nishapour and Tous (in Khorassan) they find tur- quoises.—Ebn Huukal. b For a description of these stupendous ranges of mountains, see Elphin- stone's Caubul. c The Ghebers or Guebres, those original natives of Persia, who adhered to their ancient faith, the religion of Zoroaster, and who, after the conquest of their country by the Arabs, were either persecuted at home, or forced to become wan- derers abroad. d “ Yezd, the chief residence of those ancient natives, who worship the Sun and the f ire, which latter they have carefully kept lighted, without being once extinguished for a moment, about three thousand years, on a mountain near Yezd, called Ater Quedah, signifying the House or Mansion of the Fire. He is reckoned very unfortunate who dies off that mountain.”—Stephen's Persia. e “When the weather is hazy, the springs of naphtha (on an island near Baku) boil up the higher, and the naphtha often takes fire on the surface of the earth, and runs in a flame into the sea to a distance almost incredible.”—Han way oyi the Everlasting Fire at La kit.VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAX. ] 13 Careless for what or whom the blow was sped, So vengeance triumphed, and their tyrants bled. Such was the wild and miscellaneous host, That high in air their motley banners tossed Around the Prophet-Chief—all eyes still bent Upon that glittering Veil, where’er it went, That beacon through the battle’s stormy flood, That rainbow of the field, whose showers were blood? Twice hath the sun upon their conflict set, And risen again, and found them grappling yet; While streams of carnage, in his noontide blaze, Smoke up to heaven—hot as that crimson haze, By which the prostrate Caravan is awed,a In the red Desert, when the wind’s abroad. “ On, Swords of God !” the panting Caliph calls, “ Thrones for the living—heaven for him who falls!”— o u On, brave avengers, on,” Mokanna cries, u And Eblis blast the recreant slave that flies!” Now comes the brunt, the crisis of the day— They clash—they strive—the Caliph’s troops give way! a Savary says of the south wind, which blows in Egypt from February to May, “Sometimes it appears only in the shape of an impetuous whirlwind, which passes rapidly, and is fatal to the traveller, surprised in the middle of the deserts. Torrents of burning sand roll before it, the firmament is enveloped in a thick veil, and the sun appears of the colour of blood. Sometimes whole caravans are buried in it.’’ x a114 L A L L A ROOKH. Mokanna’s seif plucks the black Banner down, And now the Orient World’s Imperial crown Is just within his grasp—when, hark, that shout! Some hand hath checked the flying Moslem’s rout; And now they turn, they rally—at their head A warrior, (like those angel youths who led, In glorious panoply of Heaven’s own mail, The Champions of the Faith through Beder’s vale,a) Bold as if gifted with ten thousand lives, Turns on the fierce pursuers’ blades, and drives At once the multitudinous torrent back— While hope and courage kindle in his track; And, at each step, his bloody falchion makes Terrible vistas through which victory breaks! In vain Mokanna, midst the general flight, Stands, like the red moon, on some stormy night, Among the fugitive clouds, that, hurrying by, Leave only her unshaken in the sky— In vain he yells his desperate curses out, Deals death promiscuously to all about, To foes that charge and coward friends that fly*, And seems to all the Great Arch-enemy. The panic spreads—“ A miracle!” throughout The Moslem ranks, “a miracle!” they shout, a In the great victory gained by Mahomed at Beder, he was assisted, say the Mussulmans, by three thousand angels, led by Gabriel, mounted on his horse Hiazum.—See The Koran and its Commentators,VEILED PROPHET OF KH0EA8SAH. 1 ]5 All gazing on that youth, whose coming seems A light, a glory, such as breaks in dreams; And every sword, true as o’er billows dim The needle tracks the load-star, following him! Right towards Mokanna now he cleaves his path, Impatient cleaves, as though the bolt of wrath He bears from Heaven withheld its awful burst From weaker heads, and souls but halfway cursed, To break o’er Him, the mightiest and the worst! But vain his speed—though, in that hour of blood, Had all God’s seraphs round Mokanna stood, With swords of fire, ready like fate to fall, Mokanna’s soul would have defied them all, Yet now, the rush of fugitives, too strong For human force, hurries ev’n him along: In vain he struggles mid the wedged array Of flying thousands—he is borne away ; And the sole joy his baffled spirit knows, I11 this forced flight, is—murdering as he goes! As a grim tiger, whom the torrent’s might Surprises in some parched ravine at night, Turns, ev’n in drowning, on the wretched flocks, Swept with him in that snow-flood from the rocks, And, to the last, devouring on his way, Bloodies the stream he hath not power to stay.116 L A L L A ROOK IT. u Alla ilia Alla!”—the glad shout renew— u Alla Akbar !” a—the Caliph’s in Merou. Hang out your gilded tapestry in the streets, And light your shrines and chant your ziraleets,D The Swords of God have triumphed—on his throne Your Caliph sits, and the Veiled Chief hath flown. Who does not envy that young warrior now, To whom the Lord of Islam bends his brow, In all the graceful gratitude of power, For his throne’s safety in that perilous hour? Who doth not wonder, when, amidst th’ acclaim Of thousands, heralding to heaven his name,— u Mid all those holier harmoi ies of fame, Which sound along the path of virtuous souls, Like music round a planet as it rolls,— He turns away—coldly, as if some gloom Hung o’er his heart no triumphs can illume ;— Some sightless grief, upon whose blasted gaze Though glory’s light may play, in vain it plays. Yes, wretched Azim! thine is such a grief, Beyond all hope, all terror, all relief; A dark, cold calm, which nothing now can break, Or warm, or brighten,—like that Syrian Lake,c a The Tecbir, or cry of the Arabs. “Alla Acbar!” says Ockley, means “ (»od is most mighty.” b The ziraleet is a kind of chorus, which the women of the East sing upon joyful occasions.—Russel. c The Dead Sea, which contains neither animal nor vegetable life.VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. ]] iipon whose surface mom and summer shed Their smiles in vain, for all beneath is dead!— Hearts there have been, o’er which this weight of woe Came by long use of suffering, tame and slow; But thine, lost youth! was sudden—over thee It broke at once, when all seemed ecstasy; When Hope looked up, and saw the gloomy Past Melt into splendour, and Bliss dawn at last— ’Twas then, ev’n then, o’er joys so freshly blown, This mortal blight of misery came down; Ev’n then, the full, warm gushings of thy heart Were checked—like fount-drops, frozen as they start— And there, like them, cold, sunless relics hang, ’ . Each fixed and chilled into a lasting pang. One sole desire, one passion now remains To keep life’s fever still within his veins,— Vengeance!—dire vengeance on the wretch who cast O’er him and all he loved that ruinous blast. For this, when rumours reached him in his flight Far, far away, after that fatal night,— Rumours of armies, thronging to th’ attack Of the Veiled Chief,—for this he winged him back, Fleet as the vulture speeds to flags unfurled, And, when all hope seemed desperate, wildly hurled Himself into the scale, and saved a world.118 L ALLA ROOKH. For this he still lives on, careless of all The wreaths that Glory on his path lets fall: For this alone exists—like lightning-fire. To speed one bolt of vengeance, and expire ! But safe as yet that Spirit of Evil lives; With a small band of desperate fugitives, The last sole stubborn fragment, left unriven, Of the proud host that late stood fronting Heaven, He gained Merou—breathed a short curse of blood O’er his lost throne—then passed the Jihon’s flood,a And gathering all, whose madness of belief Still saw a Saviour in their downfallen Chief, # Raised the white banner within Neksheb’s gates.b And there, untamed, th’ approaching conqueror waits. Of all his Haram, all that busy hive, With music and with sweets sparkling alive, He took but one, the partner of his flight, One—not for love—not for her beauty’s light— No, Zelica stood withering midst the gay, Wan as the blossom that fell yesterday From th’ Alma tree and dies, while overhead To-day’s young flower is springing in its stead.® a The ancient Oxus. A city of Transoxrana. c “ Yon can never cast your eyes on this tree, but you meet there either tloasoms or fruit; and as the blossom d:ops underneath on the ground, (whichVEILED PROPHET OF KIIORASSAN, j | r# Q. not for love—the deepest Damned must be Touched with Heaven’s glory, ere such fiends as he Can feel one glimpse of Love’s divinity. But no, she is his victim;—there lie all Her charms for him—charms that can never pall, As long as hell within his heart can stir, Or one faint trace of Heaven is left in her. To work an angel’s ruin,—to behold As white a page as Virtue e’er unrolled Blacken, beneath his touch, into a scroll Of damning sins, sealed with a burning soul— This is his triumph; this the joy accursed, That ranks him among demons all but first: This gives the victim, that before him lies Blighted and lost, a glory in his eyes, A light like that with which hell-fire illumes The ghastly, writhing wretch whom it consumes 1 But other tasks now wait him—tasks that neea All the deep daringness of thought and deed With which the Divesa have gifted him—for mark* Over yon plains, which night had else made dark, frequently covered with these purple-coloured flowers,) ethers come forth ir their stead,” &c. &c__Nkuhoff. a The Demons of the Persian mythology.120 L A L L A ROOKH, Tnobe jamerns, countless as the winged bgh1* That spangle India’s fields on showery nights,a— Far as their formidable gleams they shed, The mighty tents of the beleaguerer spread, Glimmering along th’ horizon’s dusky line, And thence in nearer circles, till they shine Among the founts and groves, o’er which the town In all its armed magnificence looks down. Yet, fearless, from his lofty battlements Mokanna views that multitude of tents; Nay, smiles to think that, though entoiled, beset, Not less than myriads dare to front him yet;— That friendless, throneless, he thus stands at bay, Ev’ n thus a match for myriads such as they. “ 0 for a sweep of that dark Angel’s wing, “ Who brushed the thousands of the Assyrian King0 “To derkness in a moment, that I might “People hell’s chambers with yon host to-night! “ But, come what may, let who will grasp the throne, “ Caliuh or Prophet, Man alike shall groan ; “Let who will torture him, Priest—Caliph—King— “Alike this loathsome world of his shall ring “With victims’ shrieks and howlings of the slave,— “ Sounds that shall glad me ev’n within my gravel” * Carreri mentions the fire-flies in India during the rainy season. See hi3 Fravels. b Sennacherib, called by the Orientals King of Moussal.—D'Herbdct.VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 121 Thus to himself—hut to the scanty train Still left around him, a far different strain:— “ Glorious Defenders of the sacred Crown “ I bear from Heaven, whose light nor blood shall drown “Nor shadow of earth eclipse ;—before whose gems “The paly pomp of this world’s diadems, “The crown of Gerashid, the pillared throne “ Of PAR\riz,a and the heron crest that shone,b “Magnificent, o’er Ali’s beauteous eyes,c “Fade like the stars when morn is in the skies: “Warriors, rejoice—the port to which we’ve passed “ O’er Destiny’s dark wave, beams out at last! “Victory’s our own—’tis written in that Book “ Upon whose leaves none but the angels look, “ That Islam’s sceptre shall beneath the power “ Of her great foe fall broken in that hour, “When the moon’s mighty orb, before all eyes, “From Neksheb’s Holy Well portentously shall rise! a Chosroes. For the description of his Throne or Palace, see Gibbon and T>' Herbdot, There was said to be under this Throne or Palace of Khosrou Parviz a hundred vaults filled with “ treasures so immense that some Mahometan writers tell us, their Prophet, to encourage his disciples, carried them to a rock, which at his command opened, and gave them a prospect through it of the treasures of Khosrou.’”— Universal History. b “ The crown of Gerashid is cloudy and tarnished belore the heron tuft of thy turhan ”—From one of the elegies or songs in praise of Ali, written in characters of gold round the gallery of Abbas’s tomb.—See Chardin. c The beauty cd Ali’s eyes was so remarkable, that whenever the Persians would describe any thing as very lovel}7, they say it is Ayn Hali, or the Eyes of Ali.—Chardin. L199 LALLA ROOKK. “Now turn and see!”-------- They turned, and as he spoke, A sudden splendour all around them broke, And they beheld an orb, ample bright, Rise from the Holy Well,a and cast its light Round the rich city and the plain for miles,b— Flinging such radiance o’er the gilded tiles Of many a dome and fair-roofed imaret As autumn suns shed round them when they set. Instant from all who saw th’ illusive sign A murmur broke—“ Miraculous ! divine!” The Gheber bowed, thinking his idol star Had waked, and burst impatient through the bar Of midnight, to inflame him to the war; While he of Moussa’s creed saw, in that ray, The glorious Light which, in his freedom’s day, Had rested on the Ark,c and now again Shone out to bless the breaking of his chain. a We are not told more of this trick of the Impostor, than that it was “une machine, qu’il disoit etre la Lune.” According to Richardson, the miracle is perpetuated in Nekscheb.—“Nakshab, the name of a city in Transoxiana, where they say there is a well, in which the appearance of the moon is to be seen night and day.” fc “II amusa pendant deux mois le peuple de la xille de Nekhscheb, en faisant sortir toutes les nuits du fond d’un puits un corps lumineux semblable a Lune, qui portoit sa lumiere jusqu'a la distance de plusieurs milles.”— D'Hcrbclot. Hence he was called Sazendehmah, or the Moon-maker. c The 'Shechinah, c*j ed Sakinat in the Koran.—See Sale's Note, chap. ii.VEILED PROPHET OF KIIORA8SAN. ]‘>X “To victory!” is at once the cry of all— Nor stands Mokanna loitering at that call— But instant the huge gates are flung aside, And forth, like a diminutive mountain-tide Into the boundless sea, they speed their course Right on into the Moslem’s mighty force. The watchmen of the camp,—who, in their rounds, Had paused, and ev’n forgot the punctual sounds Of the small drum with which they count the night,a To gaze upon that supernatural light,— Now sink beneath an unexpected arm, And in a death-groan give their last alarm. “ On for the lamps, that light yon lofty screen,b “Nor blunt your blades with massacre so mean; “ There rests the Caliph—speed—one lucky lance “May now achieve mankind’s deliverance.” Desperate the die—such as they only cast, Who venture for a world, and stake their last. But Fate’s no longer with him—blade for blade Springs up to meet them through the glimmering shade, a The parts of the night are made known as well by instruments of music\ as by the rounds of the watchmen with cries and small drums.—See Eiirdcr’i Oriental Customs, vol. i. p. 119. b The Serrapurda, high screens of red cloth, stiffened with cane, used »t> enclose a considerable space round the royal tents.—Notes on the Fahardanush. The tents of Princes were generally illuminated. Norden tells us that the tent of the Bey of Girge was distinguished from the other tents by forty lanterns being suspended before it.—See Harmer’s Observations on Job.124 LALLA ROOKH. And, as the clash is heard, new legions soon Pour to the spot, like bees of Kauzeroon* To the shrill timbrel’s summons,—till, at length, The mi _hty camp swarms out in all its strength, And back to Neksheb’s gates, covering the plain With random slaughter, drives th’ adventurous train; Among the last of whom the Silver Veil Is seen glittering at times, like the white sail Of some tossed vessel, on a stormy night, Catching the tempest’s momentary light! And hath not this brought the proud spirit low ? Nor dashed his brow, nor checked his daring? No. Though half the wretches, whom at night he led To thrones and victory, lie disgraced and dead, Yet morning hears him, with unshrinking crest, Still vaunt of thrones and victory to the rest;— And they believe him!—0, the lover may Distrust that look which steals his soul away;— The babe may cease to think that it can play With heaven’s rainbow ;—alchymists may doubt The shining gold their crucible gives out; But Faith, fanatic Faith, once wedded fast To some dear falsehood, hugs it to the last. v “From the groves of orange-trees a Kauzeroon the bees cull a celebrated aoney.”—Merier s Travels.VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 125 And well tlr Impostor knew all lures and arts. That Lucifer e’er taught to tangle hearts ; Nor, mid these last bold workings of his plot ♦ Against men’s souls, is Zelica forgot. Ill-fated Zelica ! had reason been Awake, through half the horrors thou hast seen, Thou never couldst have borne it—Death had come At once, and taken thy wrung spirit home. But ’twas not so—a torpor, a suspense Of thought, almost of life, came o’er the intense And passionate struggles of that fearful night, When her last hope of peace and heaven took fligh And though, at times, a gleam of frenzy broke, As through some dull volcano’s veil of smoke Ominous flashings now and then will start, Which show the fire’s still busy at its heart, Yet was she mostly wrapped in solemn gloom, Not such as Azim’s, brooding o’er its doom, And calm without, as is the brow of death, While busy worms are gnawing underneath— But in a blank and pulseless torpor, free From thought or pain, a sealed-up apathy, Which left her oft, with scarce one living thrill, The cold, pale victim of her torturer’s will. Again, as in Merou, he had her decked Gorgeously out, the Priestess of the sect; L 2 r r-526 LALLA ROOKH. And led her glittering forth before the eyes Of his rude train, as to a sacrifice,— Pallid as she, the young, devoted Bride Of the fierce Nile, when, decked in all the pride Of nuptial pomp, she sinks into his tide.a And while the wretched maid hung down her head, And stood, as one just risen from the dead, Amid that gazing crowd, the fiend would tell His credulous slaves it was some charm or spell Possessed her now,—and from that darkened trance Should dawn ere long their Faith’s deliverance. Or if, at times, goaded by guilty shame, Pier soul was roused, and words of wildness came, Instant the bold blasphemer would translate Pier ravings into oracles of fate, Would hail Heaven’s signals in her flashing eyes, And call her shrieks the language of the skies! O O But vain at length his arts—despair is seen Gathering around ; and famine comes to glean All that the sword hath left unreaped:—in vain At morn and eve, across the northern plain a “ A custom, still subsisting at this day, seems to me to prove that the Egyptians formerly sacrificed a young virgin to the God of the Nile; for they now make a statue of earth in shape of a girl, to which tl ey give the name of the Betrothed Bride, and throw it into the river.”—Suvar:VEILED PROPHET OF KHORAS8AN. 127 He looks impatient for the promised spears Of the wild Hordes and Tartar mountaineers, They come not—while his fierce beleaguerers pour Engines of havoc in, unknown before,3 And horrible as new;b—-javelins, that fly Inwreathed with smoky flames through the dark sky, 4 a That they knew the secret of the Greek fire among the Mussulmans early in the eleventh century, appears from Doius Account of Mamood I. “When he arrived at Moultan, finding that the country of the Jits was defended by great rivers, he ordered fifteen hundred boats to be built, each of which he armed with six iron spikes, projecting from their prows and sides, to prevent their being boarded by the enemy, who were very expert in that kind of war When he had launched this fleet, he ordered twenty archers into each boat, and five others with fire-balls, to burn the craft of the Jits, and naphtha to set the whole river on fire.” The agnee asler, too, in Indian poems, the instrument of Fire, whose flame cannot be extinguished, is supposed to signify the Greek Fire.—See Wilks's South of India, vol. i. p. 471.—And in the curious Javan poem, the Brata Yudha, given by Sir Stamford Baffles in his History of Java, we find, “He aimed at the heart of Soeta with the sharp-pointed Weapon of Fire.” The mention of gunpowder as in use among the Arabians, long before its supposed discovery in Europe, is introduced by Ebn Fadhl, the Egyptian geo- grapher, who lived in the thirteenth century. “Bodies,” he says, “in the form of scorpions, bound round and filled with nitrous powder, glide along, making a gentle noise; then, exploding, they lighten, as it were, and burn. But there are others which, cast into the air, stretch along like a cloud, roaring horribly, as thunder roars, and on all sides vomiting out flames, burst, burn, and reduce to cinders whatever comes in their way.” The historian Ben Abdalla, in speak- ing of the sieges of Abulualid in the year of the Hegira 712, says, “A fiery globe, by means of combustible matter, with a mighty noise suddenly emitted, strikes with the force of lightning, and shakes the citadel.”—See the extracts from Casiri’s Biblioth. Arab. Hispan. in tile Appendix to Bcrmgton s Literary History of the Middle Ages. b The Greek fire, which was occasionally lent by the emperors to their allies. “It was,” says Gibbon, “either launched in red-hot balls of stone and iron, or darted in arrows and javelins, twisted round with flax and tow, which had deeply imbibed the inflammable oil.”128 LALLA ROOKH. And red-hot globes, that, opening as they mount. Discharge, as from a kindled Naphtha fount,a Showers of consuming fire o’er all below; Looking, as through th’ illumined night they go, Like those wild birdsb that by the Magians oft, At festivals of fire, were sent aloft Into the air, with blazing fagots tied To their huge wings, scattering combustion wide. All night the groans of wretches who expire, In agony, beneath these darts of fire, Ring through the city—while, descending o’er Its shrines and domes and streets of sycamore,— Its lone bazaars, with their bright cloths of gold, Since the last peaceful pageant left unrolled,— a See Hanway’s Account of the Springs of Naphtha at Baku, (which is called by Lieutenant Pot linger Joala Mookee, or the Flaming Mouth,) taking fire and running into the sea. Dr. Cooke, in his Journal, mentions some wells in Circassia, strongly impregnated with this inflammable oil, from which issues boiling water. “ Though the weather,’’ he adds, “ was now very cold, the warmth of these wells of hot water produced near them the verdure and flowers of spring.” Major Scott Waring says, that naphtha is used by the Persians, as we are told, it was in hell, for lamps; ................many a row Of starry lamps and blazing cressets, fed With naphtha and asphaltus, yielding light As from a sky. b “ At the great festival of lire, called the Sheb Seze, they used to set fire to Sarge bunches of dry combustibles, fastened round wild beasts and birds, which being then let loose, the air and earth appeared one great illumination; and, as these terrified creatures naturally fled to the woods for shelter, it is easy to c( n ceive the conflagrations they produced.”—Richardson's Dissertation.VEILED PROPHET OF KHORA8SAN. 120 Its beauteous marble baths, whose idle jets Now gush with blood,—and its tall minarets, That late have stood up in the evening glare Of the red sun, unhallowed by a prayer;— O’er each, in turn, the dreadful flame-bolts fall, And death and conflagration throughout all O O The desolate city hold high festival! Mokanna sees the world is his no more ;— One sting at parting, and his grasp is o’er. “ What! drooping now?”—thus, with unblushing cheek, He hails the few, who yet can hear him speak, • Of all those famished slaves around him lying, And by the light of blazing temples dying;— “ What!—drooping now?—now, when at length we press “ Home o’er the very threshold of success ; “When Alla from our ranks hath thinned away “Those grosser branches, that kept out his ray “ Of favour from us, and we stand at length “Heirs of his light and children of his strength, “ The chosen few, who shall survive the fall “ Of Kings and Thrones, triumphant over all! “Have you then lost, weak murmurers as you are, “ All faith in him, who was your Light, your Star ? “Have you forgot the eye of glory, hid “Beneath this Veil, the flashing of whose lid130 L A L L A KOOKH. “ Could, like a sun-stroke of the desert, wither “Millions of such as yonder Chief brings hither: “ Long have its lightnings slept—too long—but now “ All earth shall feel th’ unveiling of this brow! “ To-night—yes, sainted men! this very night, “ I bid you all to a fair festal rite, “ Where—having deep refreshed each weary limb “With viands, such as feast Heaven’s cherubim, “And kindled up your souls, now sunk and dim, “With that pure wine the Dark-eyed Maids above “Keep, sealed with precious musk, for those they love,"— “I will myself uncurtain in your sight “ The wonders of this brow’s ineffable light; “Then lead you forth, and with a wink disperse “Yon myriads, howling through the universe!” Eager they listen—while each accent darts New life into their chilled and hope-sick hearts: Such treacherous life as the cool draught su oplies To him upon the stake, who drinks and dies! Wildly they point their lances to the light Of the fast sinking sun, and shout “ To-night — “To-night,” their Chief re-echoes in a voice Of fiend-like mockery that bids hell rejoice. a “The righteous shall he given to drink of pure wine, sealed; the sea! thereof shall be musk.’’—Koran, chap. Ixxxiii.VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. jfW Deluded victims !—never hath this earth Seen mourning half so mournful as their mirth. Here, to the few, whose iron frames had stood This racking waste of famine and of blood, Faint, dying wretches clung, from whom the shout Of triumph like a maniac’s laugh broke out:— There, others, lighted by the smouldering fire, Danced, like wan ghosts about a funeral pyre, Among the dead and dying, strewed around;— While some pale wretch looked on, and from his wound Plucking the fiery dart by which he bled, In ghastly transport waved it o’er his head! ’Twas more than midnight now—a fearful pause Had followed the long shouts, the wild applause, That lately from those Royal Gardens burst, Where the Veiled demon held his feast accursed, When Zelica—alas ! poor ruined heart, In every horror doomed to bear its part!— Was bidden to the banquet by a slave, Who, while his quivering lip the summons gave, Grew black, as though the shadows of the grave Compassed him round, and, ere he could repeat His message through, fell lifeless at her feet! o o Shuddering she went—a soulfelt pang of fear, A presage that her own dark doom was near,132 LALLA ROOK li. Roused every feeling, and brought Reason back Once more, to writhe her last upon the rack. All round seemed tranquil—ev’n the foe had ceased, As if aware of that demoniac feast, His fiery bolts; and though the heavens looked* red, ’Twas but some distant conflagration’s spread. But hark—she stops—she listens—dreadful tone ! ’Tis her tormentor’s laugh—and now, a groan, A long death-groan comes with it;—can this be The place of mirth, the bower of revelry ? She enters—Holy Alla, what a sight Was there before her! By the glimmering light Of the pale dawn, mixed with the flare of brands That round lay burning, dropped from lifeless hands. She saw the board, in splendid mockery spread, Rich censers breathing—garlands overhead— The urns, the cups, from which they late had quaffed, All gold and gems, but—what had been the draught ? 0 ! who need ask, that saw those livid guests, With their swollen heads sunk blackening on their breasts^ Or looking pale to Heaven with glassy glare, As if they sought but saw no mercy there ; As if they felt, though poison racked them through, Remorse the deadlier torment of the two! While some, the bravest, hardiest in the train Of their false Chief, who on the battle-plainL Stocks It ark— site stops — s her Tormentor's Ian lie listens —dreadful tone p’h—and now, a proan,"VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 133 Would have met death with transport by his side, Here mute and helpless gasped ;—but, as they died, Looked horrible vengeance with their eyes’ last strain, Ana clinched the slackening hand at him in vain. Dreadful it was to see the ghastly stare, The stony look of horror and despair, Which some of these expiring victims cast Upon their soul’s tormentor to the last;— Upon that mocking Fiend, whose Veil, now raised, Showed them, as in death’s agony they gazed, Not the long promised light, the brow, whose beaming Was to come forth, all conquering, all redeeming, But features horribler than Hell e’er traced On its own brood ;—no Demon of the Waste,a No churchyard Ghole, caught lingering in the light Of the bless’d sun, e’er blasted human sight With lineaments so foul, so fierce as those Th’ Impostor now,- in grinning mockery, shows:— “ There, ye wise Saints, behold your Light, your Star— “ Ye woull be dupes and victims, and ye are. ^ Is it enough ? or must I, while a thrill u Lives in your sapient bosoms, cheat you still? a “The Afghauns believe each of the numerous solitudes and deserts of their country to be inhabited by a lonely demon, whom they call the Ghoolee Beeabau or Spirit of the Waste. They often illustrate the wildness of any sequestered tribe, by saying, they are wild as the Demon of the Waste.”—Elphinstone's Caubul. ItlLALLA RQOKH. i:»4 “ Swear that tlie burning death ye feel within “Is but the trance with which heaven’s joys begin; “That this foul visage, foul as e’er disgraced “Ev’n monstrous man, is—after God’s own taste ; “And that—but see !—ere I have halfway said “ My greetings through, th’ uncourteous souls are fled, “ Farewell, sweet spirits ! not in vain ye die “If Eblis loves you half so well as I.— “ Ha, my young bride!—’tis well—take thou thy seat; “Nay, come—no shuddering—didst thou never meet “ The Dead before ?—they graced our wedding, sweet; “And these, my guests to-night, have brimmed so true “Their parting cups, that thou shalt pledge one too, “But—how is this?—all empty?—all drunk up ? “ Hot lips have been before thee in the cup, “Young bride—yet stay—one precious drop remains, “Enough to warm a gentle Priestess’ veins ;— < Here, drink—and should thy lover’s conquering arms “ Speed hither, ere thy lip lose all its charms, “ Give him but half this venom in thy kiss, “ And I’ll forgive my haughty rival’s bliss! “For me—I too must die—but not like these “Vile, rankling things, to fester in the breeze, “ To have this brow in ruffian triumph shown, “ With all death’s grimness added to its own,VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 135 “ And rot to dust beneath the taunting eyes “ Of slaves, exclaiming, c There his Godship lies!5 “No—cursed race—since first my soul drew breath, “ They’ve been my dupes, and shall be ev’n in death. “Thou seest yon cistern in the shade—his tilled “ With burning drugs, for this last hour distilled :a— “ There will I plunge me, in that liquid flame— “ Fit bath to lave a dying Prophet's frame!— “There perish, all—ere pulse of thine shall fail— “Nor leave one limb to tell mankind the tale. “ So shall my votaries, wheresoe’er they rave, “ Proclaim that Heaven took back the Saint it gave ;— “ That I’ve but vanished from this earth awhile, “To come again, with bright, unshrouded smile! “ So shall they build me altars in their zeal, “Where knaves shall minister, and fools shall kneel; “Where Faith may mutter o’er her mystic spell, “ Written in blood—and Bigotry may swell “ The sail he spreads for heaven with blasts from hellf “ So shall my banner, through long ages, be “The rallying sign of fraud and anarchy;— “ Kings yet unborn shall rue Mokanna’s name, “And, though I die, my spirit, still the same, a “II donna du poison dans le vin a tous ses gens, et se jetta lui-menie rnsuite dans une cuve pleine de drogues brulantes et consumantes, aim qn’il ne restat rien de tous les membres de son corps, et que ceux qui restoient de sa secte puissent croire qu’ii etoit monte au ciel, ce qui ne manqua pas d’arriver ”— D’ Htrbclot136 L A L LA ROOK H. “ Shall walk abroad in all the stormy strife, “ And guilt, and blood, that were its bliss in life. “ But, hark ! their battering engine shakes the wall— “Why, let it shake—thus I can brave them all. “No trace of me shall greet them, when they come, “ And I can trust thy faith, for—thou’lt be dumb. “Now mark how readily a wretch like me, “In one bold plunge, commences Deity!” He sprung and sunk, as the last words were said— Quick closed the burning waters o’er his head, And Zelica was left—within the ring Of those wide walls the only living thing; The only wretched one, still cursed with breath, In all that frightful wilderness of death! More like some bloodless ghost—such as, they tell, In the Lone Cities of the Silenta dwell, And there, unseen of all but Alla, sit Each by its own pale carcass, watching it. But morn is up, and a fresh warfare stirs Throughout the camp of the beleaguerers. “ They have all a great reverence for burial-grounds, which they sometimes •all by the poetical name of Cities of the Silent, and which they people with the ghosts of the departed, who sit each at the head of his own grave, invisible t>^ mortal eyes.”—Elj hinstone.VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 13~ Their globes of fire (the dread artillery lent By Greece to conquering Mahadi) are spent ; And now the scorpion’s shaft, the quarry sent From high balistas, and the shielded throng Of soldiers swinging the hime ram along:, All speak th’ impatient Islamite’s intent To try, at length, if tower and battlement And bastioned wall be not less hard to win, Less tough to break down, than the hearts within. First in impatience and in toil is he, The burning Azim—0 ! could he but see Th’ Impostor once alive within his grasp, Not the gaunt lion’s hug, nor boa’s clasp, Could match that gripe of vengeance, or keep pace With the fell heartiness of Hate’s embrace. Loud rings the ponderous ram against the walls ; Now shake the ramparts, now a buttress falls, But still no breach—“ Once more, one mighty swing u Of all your beams, together thundering!” There—the wall shakes—the shouting troops exult, Quick, quick discharge your weightiest catapult “ Right on that spot, and Neksheb is our own!” ’Tis done—the battlements come crashing down, And the huge wall, by that stroke riven in two. Yawning, like some old crater, rent anew, Shows the dim, desolate city smoking through. M 2L A L L A liOOKE j;i6 But strange ! no signs of life—naught living seen Above, oelow—what can this stillness mean? A minute’s pause suspends all hearts and eyes—- “ In through the breach,” impetuous Azim cries ; But the cool Caliph, fearful of some wile In this blank stillness, checks the troops awhile.— Just then, a figure, with slow step, advanced Forth from the ruined walls, and, as there glanced A sunbeam over it, all eyes could see The well-known Silver Veil!—“ ’Tis He, ’tis He, “Mokanna, and alone!” they shout around; Young Azim from his steed springs to the ground— “Mine, Holy Caliph! mine,” he cries, “the task “To crush yon daring wretch—’tis all I ask.” Eager he darts to meet the demon foe, Who still across wide heaps of ruin slow And falteringly comes, till they are near; Then, with a bound, rushes on Azim’s spear, And, casting off the Veil in falling, shows— 0 !—’tis his Zelica’s life-blood that flows ! “I meant not, Azim,” soothingly she said, As on his trembling arm she leaned her head, And, looking in his face, saw anguish there Beyond all wounds the quivering flesh can bear— “ I mea; v. not thou shouldst have the pain of this :— “ Thoug. death, with thee thus tasted, is a blissVEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. '139 “Thou wouldst not rob me of, didst thou but know “ How oft I’ve prayed to God I might die so! “ But the Fiend’s venom was too scant and slow ;— “To linger on were maddening—and I thought “If once that Veil—nay, look not on it—caught “ The eyes of your fierce soldiery, I should be “ Struck by a thousand death-darts instantly. “ But this is sweeter—0 ! believe me, yes— “I would not change this sad, but dear caress, “ This death within thy arms I would not give “For the most smiling life the happiest live! “All, that stood dark and drear before the eye “ Of my strayed soul, is passing swiftly by; “A light comes o’er me from those looks of love, “Like the first dawn of mercy from above; “And if thy lips but tell me I’m forgiven, “Angels will echo the blest words in heaven! “But live, my Azim;—0! to call thee mine “Thus once again! my Azim—dream divine! “Live, if thou ever lov’dst me, if to mee* “ Thy Zelica heieafter would be sweet, “ 0, live to pray for her—to bend the knee “Morning and night before that Deity, “ To whom pure lips and hearts without a stain, “As thine are, Azim, never breathed in vain,-— “And pray that He may pardon her,—may take “ Compassion on her soul for thy dear sake,40 LALLA ROCKH. “ And, naught remembering but her love to thee, “Make her all thine, all His, eternally! “Go to those happy fields were first we twined “ Our youthful hearts together—every wind “That meets thee there, fresh from fne well-known flowers, “Will bring the sweetness of those innocent hours “ Back to thy soul, and thou mayst feel again “For thy poor Zelica as thou didst then. “ So shall thy orisons, like dew that flies “To heaven upon the morning’s sunshine, rise “With all love’s earliest ardour to the skies! “And should they—but alas! my senses fail— “ 0 for one minute!—should thy prayers prevail— “If pardoned souls may—from that World of Bliss, “ Reveal their joy to those they love in this— “I’ll come to thee—in some sweet dream—and tell— “0 Heaven—I die—dear love! farewell, farewell.’' Time fleeted—years on years had passed away, And few of those who, on that mournful day, Had stood, with pity in their eyes, to see The maiden’s death, and the youth’s agony, Were living still—when, by a rustic grave, Beside the swift Amoo’s transparent wave, An aged man, who had grown aged there By that lone grave, morning and night in prayer,VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 141 For the last time knelt down—and, though the shade Of death hung darkening over him, there played A gleam of rapture on his eye and cheek, That brightened even Death—like the last streak Of intense glory on the horizon’s brim, When night o’er all the rest hangs chill and dim. His soul had seen a Vision, while he slept; She, for whose spirit he had prayed and wept So many years, had come to him, all dressed In angel smiles, and told him she was blessed! For this the old man breathed his thanks, and died — And there, upon the banks of that loved tide* He and his Zelica sleep side by side.(42 L A L L A ROOKM. The story of the Veiled Prophet of Khorassan being ended, they were now doomed to hear Fadladeen’s criti- cisms upon it. A series of disappointments and accidents had occurred to this learned Chamberlain during the journey. In the first place, those couriers, stationed, as in the reign of Shah Jehan, between Delhi and the western coast of India, to secure a constant supply of mangoes for the Royal Table, had, by some cruel irregularity, failed in their duty; and to eat any mangoes but those of Mazagong was, of course, impossible.*1 In the next place, the elephant, laden with his fine antique porcelain/15 had, in an unusual fit of liveliness, shattered the whole set to pieces:—an irreparable loss, as many of the a “ The celebrity of Mazagong is owing to its mangoes, which are certainly the best fruit I ever tasted. The parent-tree, from which all those of this species have been grafted, is honoured during the fruit-season by a guard of sepoys; and in the reign of Shah Jehan, couriers were stationed between Delhi and the Mahratta coast, to secure an abundant and fresh supply of mangoes for the royal table.'”—Mrs. Graham s Journal of a Residence in India. c This old porcelain is found in digging, and “if it is esteemed, it is not because it has acquired any new degree of beauty in the earth, but because it has retained its ancient beauty; and this alone is of great importance in China, where they give large sums for the smallest vessels which were used under the Emperors Yan and Chun, who reigned many ages before the dynasty of Tang at which time porcelain began to be used by the Emperors,” (about the yeai 442.)—Dunn's Collection of curious Observations, &c.;—a bad transl ation ot some parts of tne Lettres Edifiantes ct Curieuscs of the Missionary Jesuits.LALLA ROOK II 143 vessels were so exquisitely old, as to have been used under the Emperors Yan and Chun, who reigned many ages before the dynasty of Tang. His Koran, too, supposed to be the identical copy between the leaves of which Mahomet’s favourite pigeon used to nestle, had been mislaid by his Koran-bearer three whole days; not without much spiritual alarm to Fadladeen, who, though professing to hold, with other loyal and orthodox Mussulmans, that salvation could only be found in the Koran, was strongly suspected of believ- ing in his heart, that it could only be found in his own par- ticular copy of it. When to all these grievances is added the obstinacy of the cooks, in putting the pepper of Canara into his dishes instead of the cinnamon of Serendib, we may easily suppose that he came to the task of criticism with, at least, a sufficient degree of irritability for the purpose. “In order,” said he, importantly swinging about his chaplet of pearls, “to convey with clearness my opinion of the story this young man has related, it is necessary to take a review of all the stories that have ever----” —“My good Fadladeen!” exclaimed the Princess, interrupting him, “we really do not deserve that you should give yourself so much trouble. Your opinion of the poem we have just heard, will, I have no doubt, be abundantly edifying, without any ffirther WAste of your valuable erudition.”—“If that be all,” replied the critic.—evidently mortified at not being allowed to show how much he knew about every thing but the subject imme-144 LALLA ROOKK diately before him—“if that be all that is required, the matter is easily despatched.5’ He then proceeded to analyze the poem, in that strain, (so well known to the unfortunate bards of Delhi,) whose censures were an infliction from which few recovered, and whose very praises were like the honey ex- tracted from the bitter flowers of the aloe. The chief person- ages of the story were, if he rightly understood them, an ill- favoured gentleman, with a veil over his face ;—a young lady, whose reason went and came, according as it suited the poet’s convenience to be sensible or otherwise;—and a youth in one of those hideous Bucharian bonnets, who took the aforesaid gentleman in a veil for a Divinity. “From such materials,” said he, “what can be expected?—after rivalling each other in long speeches and absurdities, through some thousands of lines as indigestible as the filberts of Berdaa, our friend in the veil jumps into a tub of aquafortis; the young lady dies in a set speech, whose only recommendation is that it is her last; and the lover lives on to a good old age, for the laudable purpose of seeing her ghost, which he at last happily accom- plishes, and expires. This, you will allow, is a fair summary of the story; and, if Nasser, the Arabian merchant, told no better, our Holy Prophet (to whom be all honour and glory!) had no need to be jealous of his abilities for story-telling.”a a “La lecture de ces Fables plaisoit si fort aux Arabes, que, quand Mahomel les entretenoit de l’Histoire de l’Ancien Testament, ils les meprisoient, lui disant que celles que Nasser leur raeontoient etoient beaucoup plus belles. Cette preference attira a Nasser la malediction de Mahomet et de tous ses disciples.’1 —D'Hcrbelof.L ALLA ROOKH, 145 With respect to the style, it was worthy of the matter;—it had not even those politic contrivances of structure, which make up for the commonness of the thoughts by the pecu- liarity of the manner, nor that stately poetical phraseology by which sentiments mean in themselves, like the blacksmith’sa apron converted into a banner, are so easily gilt and embroi- dered into consequence. Then, as to the versification, it was, to say no worse of it, execrable; it had neither the copious flow of Ferdosi, the sweetness of Hafez, nor the sententious march of Sadi; but appeared to him, in the uneasy heaviness of its movements, to have been modelled upon the gait of a very tired dromedary. The licenses, too, in which it in- dulged, were unpardonable ;—for instance this line, and the poem abounded with such,— Like the faint, exquisite music of a dream. “What critic that can count,” said Fadladeen, “and has his full complement of fingers to count withal, would tolerate for an instant such syllabic superfluities?”—He here looked round, and discovered that most of his audience were asleep ; while the glimmering lamps seemed inclined to follow their example. It became necessary, therefore, however painful to himself, to put an end to his valuable animadversions for the present, and he accordingly concluded, with an air of dignified a The blacksmith Gao, who successfully resisted the tyrant Zohak, ami whose apron became the Royal Standard of Persia. N146 L A L L A ROOKH. candour, thus :—“ Notwithstanding the observations which I have thought it my duty to make, it is by no means my wish to discourage the young man—so far from it, indeed, that if he will but totally alter his style of waiting and thinking, I have very little doubt that I shall be vastly pleased with him.” Some days elapsed, after this harangue of the Great Chamberlain, before Lalla Rookh could venture to ask for another story. The youth wras still a welcome guest in the pavilion—to one heart, perhaps, too dangerously welcome;— but all mention of poetry wTas, as if by common consent, avoided. Though none of the party had much respect for Fadladeen, yet his censures, thus magisterially delivered, evidently made an impression on them all. The Poet himself, to whom criticism w-as quite a newr operation, (being wholly unknown in that Paradise of the Indies, Cashmere,) felt the shock as it is generally felt at first, till use has made it more tolerable to the patient;—the Ladies began to suspect that they ought not to be pleased, and seemed to conclude that there must have been much good sense in what Fadladeen said, from its having set them all so soundly to sleep ;—wdiile the self-complacent Chamberlain wras left to triumph in the idea of having, for the hundred and fiftieth time in his life, extinguished a Poet. Lalla Rookh alone—and Love knew why—persisted in being delighted with all she had heard, and in resolving to hear more as speedily as possible. Her manner, however, of first returning to the subject w^asLALLA rookh. 147 unlucky. It was while they rested, during the heat of noon, near a fountain, on which some hand had rudely traced those well-known words from the Garden of Sadi,—“Many, like me, have viewed this fountain, but they are gone, and their eyes are closed for ever!”—that she took occasion, from the melancholy beauty of this passage, to dwell upon the charms of poetry in general. “It is true,” she said, “few poets can imitate that sublime bird, which flies always in the air, and never touches the earth:a—it is only once in many ages a Genius appears, whose words, like those on the Written Mountain, last for ever:b—but still there are some, as delight- ful, perhaps, though not so wonderful, who, if not stars over a “ The Huma, a bird peculiar to the East. It is supposed to fly constantly in the air, and never touch the ground; it is looked upon as a bird of happy omen; and that every head it overshades will in time wear a crown.”— Richardson. In the terms of alliance made by Fuzzel Oola Khan with Hyder in 1760, one of the stipulations was, “ that he should have the distinction of two honorary attendants standing behind him, holding fans composed of the feathers of the humma, according to the practice of his family.”— Wilks's South of India. He adds in a note,—“The Humma is a fabulous bird. The head over which its shadow once passes will assuredly be circled with a crown. The splendid little bird suspended over the throne of Tippoo Sultaun, found at Scringapatam in 1799, was intended to represent this poetical fancy.” b “ To the pilgrims to Mount Sinai we must attribute the inscriptions, figures, &o., on those rocks, which have from thence acquired the name of the Written Mountain.”—Volney. M. Gebelin and others have been at much pains to attach some mysterious and important meaning to these inscriptions; but Niebuhr, as well as Volney, thinks that they must have been executed at idle hours by the travellers to Mount Sinai, “who were satisfied with cutting the unpolished rock with any pointed instrument; adding to their names and the date of their journeys some rude figures, which bespeak the hand of a people but little skilled in the arts.”—Niebuhr.148 L A L L A ROOKH. our head, are at least flowers along our path, and whose sweetness of the moment we ought gratefully to inhale, without calling upon them for a brightness and a durability beyond their nature. In short,” continued she, blushing, as if conscious of being caught in an oration, “it is quite cruel that a poet cannot wander through his regions of enchantment, without having a critic for ever, like the old Man of the Sea, upon his back!”a—Fadeadeen, it was plain, took this last luckless allusion to himself, and would treasure it up in his mind as a whetstone for his next criticism. A sudden silence ensued; and the Princess, glancing a look at Feramorz, saw plainly she must wait for a more courageous moment. But the glories of Nature, and her wild, fragrant airs, playing freshly over the current of youthful spirits, will soon heal even deeper wounds than the dull Fadladeens of this world can inflict. In an evening or two after, they came to the small Valley of Gardens, which had been planted by order of the Emperor, for his favourite sister Rochinara, during their progress to Cashmere, some years before; and never was there a more sparkling assemblage of sweets, since the Gulzar-e-Irem, or Rose-bower of Irem. Every precious flower was there to be found, that poetry, or love, or religion has ever consecrated; from the dark hyacinth, to which Hafez compares his mistress’s hair,b to the Cdmalatdy by a The Story of Sinbad. b See Nott's Hafez, Ode v.L ALLA ROOKH. 149 whose rosy blossoms the heaven of Indra is scented.a As diey sat in the cool fragrance of this delicious spot, and Lai la Rookh remarked that she could fancy it the abode of that Flower-loving Nymph whom they worship in the temples of Kathay,b 01 of one of those Peris, those beautiful creatures of the air, who live upon perfumes, and to whom a place like this might make some amends for the Paradise they have lost,—1 the young Poet, in whose eyes she appeared, while she spoke, to be one of the bright spiritual creatures she wras describing, said, hesitatingly, that he remembered a Story of a Peri, which, if the Princess had no objection, he would venture to relate. “It is,” said he, wTith an appealing look to Fadladeen, “in a lighter and humbler strain than the other:’7 then, striking a few careless but melancholy chords on his kitar, he thus began:— a “ The Camalata, (called by Linnaeus, Ipomaea) is the most beautiful of its order, both in the colour and form of its leaves and flowers; its elegant blossoms are ‘celestial rosy red, Love’s proper hue,’ and have justly procured it the name of Cilmalata, or Love’s Creeper.”— Sir IV, Jones. “ Camalata may also mean a mythological plant, by which all desires are granted to such as inhabit the heaven of Indra; and if ever flower was worthy of paradise, it is our charming Ipomaea.”—lb, b “According to Father Premare, in his tract on Chinese Mythology, the mother of Fo-hi was the daughter of heaven, surnamed Flower-loving, and, as the nymph was walking alone on the bank of a river, she found herself encircled by a rainbow, afto.r which she became pregnant, and, at the end of twelve years, was delivered of a son radiant as herself.”—JLsiat lies.PARADISE AND THE PERT. One morn a Peri, at the gate Of Eden stood, disconsolate; And as she listened to the Springs Of life within, like music flowing, And caught the light upon her wings Through the half-open portal glowing, She wept to think her recreant race Should e’er have lost that glorious place! “How happy,” exclaimed this child of air, “Are the holy Spirits who wander there, “Mid flowers that never shall fade or fall! “ Though mine are the gardens of earth and sea, “And the stars themselves have flowers for me, “ One blossom of heaven outblooms them all! '50"One mom a Pen at the gate Of Eden stood, disconsolate;" ■ . PARADISE AND THE PERI. « Though sunny the Lake of cool Cashmere, “With its plane-tree Isle reflected clear,® “And sweetly the founts of that Valley fall; « Though bright are the waters of Sing-su-hay, O O i “ And the golden floods that thitherward stray,b “ Yet—0, his only the Blessed can say “How the waters of Heaven outshine them all! “ Go, wing thy flight from star to star, “ From world to luminous world, as far “ As the universe spreads its flaming wall: “Take all the pleasures of all the spheres, “And multiply each through endless years, “ One minute of Heaven is worth them all!” The glorious Angel, who was keeping The gates of Light, beheld her weeping: And, as he nearer drew and listened To her sad song, a tear-drop glistened Within his eyelids, like the spray From Edin’s fountain, when it lies On the blue flower, which—Bramins say— Blooms nowhere but in Paradise.0 a « Numerous small islands emerge from the Lake of Cashmere. One is called Char Chenaur, from the plane-trees upon it.”—Foster. b “ The Alcan Kol or Golden river of Tibet, which runs into the Lakes of Sing-uu-hay, has abundance of gold in its sands, which employs the inhabitants all the summer in gathering it.”—Description of Tibet in Pinkerton. c « The Brahmins of this province insist that the blue campac flowers onb152 LALLA ROOKH. “Nymph of a fair but erring line !” Gently he said—cc One hope is thine. u ’Tis written in the Book of Fate, u The Peri yet may he forgiven u Who brings to this Eternal Gate “ The Gift that is most dear to Heaven! u Go, seek it, and redeem thy sin— “ ’Tis sweet to let the Pardoned in.” Rapidly as comets run To th’ embraces of the Sun, Fleeter than the starry brands Flung at night from angel hands2. At those dark and daring sprites Who would climb th’ empyreal heights, Down the blue vault the Peri flies, And, lighted earthward by a glance That just then broke from morning’s eyes, Hung hovering o’er our world’s expanse. an Paradise.”—Sir TV, Jones, It appears, however, from a curious letter of the Sultan of Menangcabow, given by Marsden, that one place on earth may lay claim to the possession of it. “ This is the Sultan, who keeps the flower cham- paka that is blue, and to be found in no other country but his, being yellow elsewhere.”—Marsden's Sumatra. a “The Manometans suppose that falling stars are the firebrands wherewith the good angels drive away the bad, when they approach too near the empyrean or verge of the neavens.”— Fryer,PARADISE AND THE PERL 153 But whither shall the Spirit go T j find this gift for Heaven ?—“ I know “The wealth/’ she cries, “ of every urn, “ In which unnumbered rubies burn, “ Beneath the pillars of Chilminar;3, “I know where the Isles of Perfume are/ “ Many a fathom down in the sea, “ To the south of sunbright Araby ;c “I know, too, where the Genii hid “The jewelled cup of their King Jamshid/ “With Life’s elixir sparkling high. “But gifts like these are not for the sky: “Where was there ever a gem that shone “Like the steps of Alla’s wonderful Throne ? “ And the Drops of Life—0 ! what would they be “In the boundless Deep of Eternity?” While thus she mused, her pinions fanned The air of that sweet Indian land, a The Forty Pillars; so the Persians call the ruins of Persepolis. It is imagined by them that this palace and the edifices at Balbec were built by Genii, for the purpose of hiding in their subterraneous caverns immense treasures, which still remain there.”—D'Hcrbelot, Volney. b Diodorus mentions the Isle of Panchaia, to the south of Arabia Felix, where there was a temple of Jupiter. This island, or rather cluster of isles, has dis- appeared, “sunk (says Grandpre) in the abyss made by the fire beneath their foundations.”—Voyage to the Indian Ocean•. c The isles of Panchaia. d “The cup of Jamshid, discovered, they ?ay, when digging for the founda- tions of Persepolis.”—Richardson.154 L A L L A ROOKII. Whose air is balm ; whose ocean spreads O’er coral rocks and amber beds ;a Whose mountains, pregnant by the beam Of the warm sun, with diamonds team; Whose rivulets are like rich brides, Lovely, with gold beneath their tides; Whose sandal groves and bowers of spice Might be a Peri’s Paradise! But crimson now her rivers ran With human blood—the smell of death Came reeking from those spicy bowers, And man, the sacrifice of man, Mingled his taint with every breath Upwafted from the innocent flowers. Land of the Sun! what foot invades Thy Pagods and thy pillared shades b— a“It is not like the Sea of India, whose bottom is rich with pearls and ambergris, whose mountains of the coast are stored with gold and precious stones, whose gulfs breed creatures that yield ivory, and among the plants of whose shores are ebony, red wood, and the wood of Hairzan, aloes, camphor, cloves, sandal-wood, and all other spices and aromatics; where parrots and peacocks are birds of the forest, and musk and civet are collected upon the lands.’’— J'ravcls of Two Mohammedans. b....................in the ground The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow About the mother tree, a pillared shade, High over-arched, and echoing walk« between.—Miltox. For a particular description and plate of the Banyan-tree, see Cordiner'i Ceylon.PARADISE AND THE PERL 155 Thy cavern shrines, and Idol stones, Thy Monarchs and their thousand Thrones ?a ’Tis He of Gazna13—fierce in wrath He comes, and India’s diadems Lie scattered in his ruinous path.— His bloodhounds he adorns with gems, Torn from the violated necks Of many a young and loved Sultana;0 Maidens, within their pure Zenana, Priests in the very fane he slaughters, And chokes up with the glittering wrecks Of golden shrines the sacred waters! Downward the Peri turns her gaze, And, through the war-field’s bloody haze Beholds a youthful warrior stand, Alone beside his native river,— The red blade broken in his hand, And the last arrow in his quiver. a “ With this immense treasure Mamood returned to Ghizni, and in the yenz 400 prepared a magnificent festival, where he displa}Ted to the people his wealth in golden thrones and in other ornaments, in a gTeat plain without the city ol Ghizni.”—F 'erishta, b “Mahmood of Gazna, or Ghizni, who conquered India in the beginning of the eleventh century.”—See his History in Dow and "Sir J. Malcotm. c “It is reported that the hunting equipage of the Sultan Mahmood was so magnificent, that he kept four hundred greyhounds and bloodhounds, each of which wore a collar set with'jewels, and a covering edged with gold and pearls — Universal History, \ol. iii 158 LALLa R 0 O K II. “Live,” said the Conqueror, “live to share “ The trophies and the crowns I bear!” Silent that youthful warrior stood— Silent he pointed to the flood All crimson with his country’s blood, Then sent his last remaining dart, For answer to th’ Invader’s heart. False flew the shaft, though pointed well; The Tyrant lived, the Hero fell!— Yet marked the Peri where he lay, And, when the rush of war was past, Swiftly descending on a ray Of morning light, she caught the last— Last glorious drop his heart had shed, Before its freeborn spirit fled! “ Be this,” she cried, as she winged her flight. My welcome gift at the Gates of Light. “Though foul are the drops that oft distil “ On the field of warfare, blood like this, “For Liberty shed, so holy is,a a Objections may be made to my use of the word Liberty in this, and rnoif especially in the story'that follows it, as totally inapplicable to any state of things that has evei existed in the East; but though I cannot, of course, mean to employ it in that enlarged and noble sense which is so well understood at the present day, and, I grieve to say, so little acted upon, yet it is no disparage* rnent to the word to apply it to that national independence, that freedom fromPARADISE AND THE PERL 157 “ It would not stain the purest rill, “ That sparkles among the Bowers of Bliss! 1 o “ 0, if there be, on this earthly sphere, “ A boon, an offering Heaven holds dear, “ *Tis the last libation Liberty draws “From the heart that bleeds and breaks in her cause!” “Sweet,” said the Angel, as she gave The gift into his radiant hand, “ Sweet is our welcome of the Brave “ Who die thus for their native Land.— “But see—alas!—the crystal bar “ Of Eden moves not—holier far “ Than ev’n this drop the boon must be, “That opes the Gates of Heaven for thee!” Her first fond hope of Eden blighted, Now among Afric’s lunar Mountains, Far to the South, the Peri lighted; And sleeked her plumage at the fountains ihc interference and dictation of foreigners, without which, indeed, no liberty of any kind can exist; and for which both Hindoos and Persians fought against their Mussulman invaders with, in many cases, a bravery that deserved much better success. a “The Mountains of the Moon, or the Montes Lunse of antiquity, at the foot of which the Nile is supposed to arise.”—Truce. “Sometimes called,” says Jackson, “Jibbel Kumrie, or the white or lunar- coloured mountains; so a white horse is called by the Arabians a moon-coloured horse.” O158 LALLA ROOKH. Of that Egyptian tide—whose birth Is hidden from the sons of earth Deep in those solitary woods, Where oft the Genii of the Floods Dance round the cradle of their Nile, And hail the new-born Giant’s smile.a Thence over Egypt’s palmy groves, Her grots, and sepulchres of Kings,b The exiled Spirit sighing roves: And now hangs listening to the doves In warm Pcosetta’s vale0—now loves To watch the moonlight on the wings o C> Of the white pelicans that break The azure calm of Mceris’ Lake.d ’Twas a fair scene—a Land more bright Never did mortal eye behold! Who could have thought, that saw this night Those valleys and their fruits of gold Basking in Heaven’s serenest light;— Those groups of lovely date-trees bending Languidly their leaf-crowned heads, a“The Nile, which the Ahyssinians know by the names of Abey and Alawy, or the Giant.”—Asiat. Research. vol. i. p. 387. b See Perry's View of the Levant for an account of the sepulchres in Uppei Thebes, and the numberless grots, covered all over with hieroglyphics, in the mountains of Upper Egypt. c “The orchards of Rosetta are filled with turtle-doves.”—Somiinu 1 Savary mentions the pelicans upon Lake Mceris. 04 PARADISE AND THE PERL 159 Like youthful maids, when sleep descending Warns them to their silken beds;a— Those virgin lilies, all the night Bathing their beauties in the lake, That they may rise more fresh and bright, When their beloved Sun’s awake;— Those ruined shrines and towers that seem The relics of a splendid dream; Amid whose fairy loneliness Naught but the lapwing’s cry is heard, Naught seen but (when the shadows, flitting Fast from the moon, unsheath its gleam,) Some purple-winged Sultana b sitting Upon a column, motionless And flittering like an Idol bird!— Who could have thought, that there, ev’n there, Amid those scenes so still and fair The Demon of the Plague hath cast From his hot wing a deadlier blast, More mortal far than ever came From the red Desert’s sands of flame ! a “ The superb date-tree, whose head languidly reclines, like that of a hand* some woman overcome with sleep.”—Dafard cl Hadad. b “ That beautiful bird, with plumage of the finest shining blue, with purple beak and legs, the natural and living ornament of the temples and palaces of the Greeks and Romans, which, from the stateliness of its port, as well as the brilliancy of its colours, has obtained the title of Sultana."- Sonnini.1G0 LALLA ROOKH. So quick, that every living thing Of human shape, touched by his wing, Like plants, where the Simoom hath passed, At once falls black and withering! The sun went down on many a brow, Which, full of bloom and freshness then, Is rankling in the pest-house now, And ne’er will feel that sun again. And, 0! to see th’ unburied heaps On which the lonely moonlight sleeps— The very vultures turn away And sicken at so foul a prey! Only the fierce hyaena stalksa Throughout the city’s desolate walksb At midnight, and his carnage plies: Woe to the half-dead wretch, who meets The glaring of those large blue eyes * Amid the darkness of the streets! a Jackson, speaking of the plague that occurred in West Barbary, when he was there, says, “ The birds of the air fled away from the abodes of men. The hyaenas, on the contrary, visited the cemeteries,” &c. b “ Gondar was full of hyaenas from the time it turned dark, till the dawn of day, seeking the different pieces of slaughtered carcasses, which this cruel and unclean people expose in the streets without burial, and who firmly be- lieve that these animals are Falashta from the neighbouring mountains, trans- formed by magic, and come down to eat human flesh in the dark in safety.”— Fruce, c Bruce.PARADISE AND THE PERI. 161 “Poor race of men!” said the pitying Spirit, “ Dearly ye pay for your primal fall— “ Some flowerets of Eden ye still inherit, “But the trail of the Serpent is over them all !” She wept—the air grew pure and clear Around her, as the bright drops ran; For there’s a magic in each tear, Such kindly Spirits weep for man! Just then beneath some orange-trees, Whose fruit and blossoms in the breeze Were wantoning together, free, Like age at play with infancy— Beneath that fresh and springing bower, Close by the Lake, she heard the moan Of one who, at this silent hour, Had thither stolen to die alone. One who in life, where’er he moved, Drew after him the hearts of many; Yet now, as though he ne’er were loved, Dies here unseen, unwept by any! None to watch near him—none to slake The fire that in his bosom lies, With ev’n a sprinkle from that lake, Which shines so cool before his eyes. No voice, well known through many a day, To speak the last, the parting word* o 2IfrZ L ALLA ROOKH. Which, when all other sounds decay, Is still like distant music heard ;— That tender farewell on the shore Of this rude world, when all is o’er, Which cheers the spirit, ere its bark Puts off into the unknown Dark. Deserted youth! one thought alone Shed joy around his soul in death— That she, whom he for years had known, And loved, and might have called his own, Was safe from this foul midnight’s breath*— Safe in her father’s princely halls, Where the cool airs from fountain falls, Freshly perfumed by many a brand Of the sweet wood from India’s land, Were pure as she whose brow they fanned. But see—who yonder comes by stealth,a This melancholy bower to seek, Like a young envoy, sent by Health, With rosy gifts upon her cheek ? ’Tis she—far off, through moonlight dim, He knew his own betrothed bride, a This circumstance has often been introduced into poetry;-•by Yrincentiua Fabricius, by Darwin, and lately, with very powerful effect, by Mr. Wilson.PARADISE AND THE PERI. J(>3 She, who would rather die with him, Than live to gain the world beside!— Her arms are round her lover now, His livid cheek to hers she presses, And dips, to bind his burning brow, In the cool lake her loosened tresses. Ah! once, how little did he think An hour would come, when he should shrink With horror from that dear embrace, Those gentle arms, that were to him Holy as is the cradling place Of Eden’s infant cherubim! And now he yields—now turns away, Shuddering as if the venom lay All in those proffered lips alone— Those lips that, then so fearless grown, Never until that instant came Near his unasked or without shame. “ 0 ! let me only breathe the air, “The blessed air, that’s breathed by thee, £ “And, whether on its wings it bear “Healing or death, ’tis sweet to me! “ There—drink my tears, while yet they fall— “ Would that my bosom’s blood were balm! “ And, well thou know’st, I’d shed it all, “To give thy brow one minute’s calm.164 L A L L A ROOK II. “Nay, turn not from me that dear face— “ Am I not thine—thy own loved bride— “ The one, the chosen one, whose place “ In life or death is by thy side? “Think’st thou that she, whose only light, “In this dim world, from thee hath shone, “ Could bear the long, the cheerless night, “That must be hers when thou art gone? “ That I can live, and let thee go, “Who art my life itself?—No, no,— “When the stem dies, the leaf that grew “ Out of its heart must perish too! “ Then turn to me, my own love, turn, “Before, like thee, I fade and burn; “ Cling to these yet cool lips, and share “The last pure life that lingers there!” She fails—she sinks—as dies the lamp In charnel airs, or cavern-damp, So quickly do his baleful sighs Quench all the sweet light of her eyes. One struggle—and his pain is past— Her lover is no longer living! One kiss the maiden gives, one last, Long kiss, which she expires in giving “Sleep,” said the Peri, as softly she stole The farewell sigh of that vanishing soul,rum nc )t from me tl Lai dear face I not tl nne-thy owr l lov'd bride - one, tl le chosen 01 :ie, whose pi a or d e ath is ijv th V side ? 'PARADISE AND THE PERI. iS As true as e’er warmed a woman’s breast— “ Sleep on, in visions of odour rest, “In balmier airs than ever yet stirred 4 Th’ enchanted pile of that lonely bird, 44 Who sings at the last his own death-lay ,a 44 And in music and perfume dies away!” Thus saying, from her lips she spread Unearthly breathings through the place, And shook her sparkling wreath, and shed Such lustre o’er each paly face, That like two lovely saints they seemed, Upon the eve of doomsday taken From their dim graves, in odour sleeping: While that benevolent Peri beamed Like their good angel, calmly keeping Watch o’er them till their souls would wake&. But mom is blushing in the sky; Again the Peri soars above, Bearing to Heaven that precious sigh Of pure self-sacrificing love. a “In the East, they suppose the Phoenix to have fifty orifices in ins bill, which are continued to his tail; and that, after living one thousand years, he builds himself a funeral pile, sings a melodious air of different harmonies through his fifty organ pipes, flaps his wings with a velocity which sets fire to the wood, and consumes himself.”—Richardson.8 66 LALLA ROOKH. High throbbed her heart, with hope elate, The Elysian palm she soon shall win, For the bright Spirit at the gate Smiled as she gave that offering in; And she already hears the trees Of Eden, with their crystal bells Ringing in that ambicsial breeze That from the throne of Alla swells; And she can see the starry bowls That lie around that lucid lake, Upon whose banks admitted Souls Their first sweet draught of glory take!3 But ah! even Peris’ hopes are vain— Again the Fates forbade, again Th’ immortal barrier closed—“Not yet,” The angel said as, with regret, He shut from her that glimpse of glory— “True was the maiden, and her story. “Written in light o’er Alla’s head, “By seraph eyes shall long be read. “But, Peri, see—the crystal bar “ Of Eden moves not—nolier far “Than ev’n this sigh the boon must be “That opes the Gates of Heaven for thee.*1’ a “ On the shores of a quadrangular lake stand a thousand goblets, made ot etars, out of which souls predestined to enjoy felicity drink the crystal wave.’ — From Chateaubriand's Description uf the Mahometan Paradise, in his Beauties of Christianity.PARADISE AND THE PERI. Hi? Now, upon Syria’s land of rosesn Softly the light of Eve reposes, And, like a glory, the broad sun Hangs over sainted Lebanon ; Whose head in wintry grandeur towers. And whitens with eternal sleet, While summer, in a vale of flowers, Is sleeping rosy at his feet. To one, who looked from upper air O’er ail th’ enchanted regions there, How beauteous must have been the glow, The life, the sparkling from below! Fair gardens, shining streams, with ranks Of golden melons on their banks, More golden where the sunlight falls ;— Gay lizards, glittering on the walls b Of ruined shrines, busy and bright As they were all alive with light;— And, yet more splendid, numerous flocks Of pigeons, settling on the rocks, 11 Richardson thinks that Syria had its name from Suri. a oeautiful and deli onni,n. P170 LALLA ROOKH. And, near the boy, who, tired witr: p^ay, Now nestling mid the roses lay, She saw a wearied man dismount From his h©t steed, and on the brink Of a small imaret’s rustic fount a Impatient fling him down to drink. Then swift his haggard brow he turned To the fair child, who fearless sat, Though never yet hath daybeam burned Upon a brow more fierce than that,— Sullenly fierce—a mixture dire, Like thunder-clouds, of gloom and fire; In which the Peri’s eye could read Dark tales of many a ruthless deed; The ruined maid—the shrine profaned— Oaths broken—and the threshold stained With blood of guests!—there written, all, Black as the damning drops that fall From the denouncing Angel’s pen, Ere Mercy weeps them out again. Yet tranquil now that man of crime (As if the balmy evening time Imaret, “hospice ou on logo et nounit, gratis, les pelerins pendant trois jours.”—Toderini, translated by the Abbe de Cournand.—See also Casteilan c Mceurs des Othomans, tom. v. p. 145.bath day-beam burr rpf‘ PARADISE AND THE PERI 171 Softened his spirit) looked and lay, Watching the rosy infant’s play :— Though still, whene’er his eye by chance Fell on the boy’s, its lurid glance Met that unclouded, joyous gaze, As torches, that have burnt all night Through some impure and godless rite, Encounter morning’s glorious rays. But, hark ! the vesper call to prayer, As slow the orb of daylight sets, Is rising sweetly on the air, From Syria’s thousand minarets ! The boy has started from the bed Of flowers, where he had laid his head, 4nd down upon the fragrant sod Kneels,a with his forehead to the south, a “ Such Turks as at the common hours of prayer are on the road, or so employed as not to find convenience to attend the mosques, are still obliged to execute that duty; nor are they ever known to fail, whatever business they are then about, but pray immediately when the hour alarms them, whatever they are about, in that very place they chance to stand on; insomuch that when a janissary, whom vou have to guard you up and down the city, hears the notice which is given him from the steeples, he will turn about, stand still, and beckon with Ills hand, to tell his charge he must have patience for awhile; when, taking out his handkerchief, he spreads it on the ground, sits cross-legged there- upon, and says his prayers, though in the open market, which having ended 4f\e leaps briskly up, salutes the person whom he undertook to convey, anc renews his journey with the mild expression of Ghell gohnnum ghcll, or Come dear, follow me.”—Aaron H\Ts Travels.i?2 LALLA ROOK H. Lisping th’ eternal name of God From Purity’s own cherub mouth. And looking, while his hands and eyes Are lifted to the glowing skies, Like a stray babe of Paradise, Just lighted on that flowery plain, And seeking for its home again. 0 ! ’twas a sight—that heaven—that child— A scene, which might have well beguiled Even haughty Eblis of a sigh For glories lost and peace gone by! And how felt hey the wretched Man Reclining there—while memory ran O’er many a year of guilt and strife, Flew o’er the dark flood of his life, Nor found one sunny resting-place, Nor brought him back one branch of grace? “ There ivas a time,” he said, in mild, Ileart-humbled tones, “ thou blessed child! “When, young, and haply pure as thou, “I looked and prayed like thee—but now— ” He hung his head—each nobler aim, And hope, and feeling, which had slept From boyhood’s hour, that instant came Fresh o’er him, and he wept—he wept?PARADISE AND THE PERL 173 Blest tears of soul-felt penitence! In whose benign, redeeming flow Is felt the first, the only sense Of guiltless joy that guilt can know. “There’s a drop,” said the Peri, “that down from the moon “ Falls through the withering airs of June o o “Upon Egypt’s land/ of so healing a power, “ So balmy a virtue, that ev’n in the hour “ That drop descends, contagion dies, “And health re-animates earth and skies!— “ 0, is it not thus, thou man of sin “The precious tears of repentance fall? “Though foul thy fiery plagues within, “One heavenly drop hath dispelled them all!” And now—behold him kneeling there By the child’s side, in humble prayer, While the same sunbeam shines upon The guilty and the guiltless one, And hymns of joy proclaim through Heaven The triumph of a Soul Forgiven! a The Nucta, or Miraculous Drop, which falls in Egypt precisely on Si John’s day, in June, and is supposed to have the effect of stopping the plague. r 2174 LALLA ROOKH. ?Twas when the golden orb had set, While on their knees they lingered yet, There fell a light more lovely far Than ever came from sun or star. Upon the tear that, warm and meek, Dewed that repentant sinner’s cheek. To mortal eye this light might seem A northern flash or meteor beam— But well th’ enraptured Peri knew ’Twas a bright smile the Angel threw From Heaven’s Gate, to hail that tear Her harbinger of glory near! “ Joy, joy for ever! my task is done— “ The Gates are passed, and Heaven is won! “ 0 ! am I not happy? I am, I am— “To thee, sweet Eden! how dark and sad “ Are the diamond turrets of Shadukiam,* “And the fragrant bowers of Amberabad! “Farewell, ye odours of earth, that die “Passing away like a lover’s sigh;— a The Country of Delight—the name of a province in the kingdom of Jii> nistan, or Fairy Land, the capital of which is called the City of Jewels Am* berabad is another of the cities of Jinnistan.PARADISE AND THE PERI. 175 “My feast is now of the Tooba Tree/ “Whose scent is the breath of Eternity! “Farewell, ye vanishing flowers, that shone “In my fairy wreath, so bright and brief; “ 0! what are the brightest that e’er have blown, “To the lote-tree, springing by Alla’s throne/ “ Whose flowers have a soul in every leaf! “ Joy, joy for ever!—my task is done— “The Gates are passed, and Heaven is won!” a The tree Tooba, that stands in Paradise, in the palace of Mahomet. See Sale's Prelim. Disc.—Tooba, says DJHerbelot, signifies beatitude, or eternal happiness. b Mahomet is described, in the fifty-third chapter of the Koran, as having seen the angel Gabriel “by the lote-tree, beyond which there is no passing: near it is the Garden of Eternal Abode.” This tree, say the commentators, stands in the seventh Heaven, on the right hand of the Throne Cod176 LALLA ROOKH. “And this/5 said the Great Chamberlaii, “is poetry! this flimsy manufacture of the brain, which, in comparison with the lofty and durable monuments of genius, is as the gold filagree-work of Zamara beside the eternal architecture of Egypt!55 After this gorgeous sentence, which, with a few more of the same kind, Fadladeen kept by him for rare and important occasions, he proceeded to the anatomy of the short poem just recited. The lax and easy kind of metre in which it wTas written ought to be denounced, he said, as one of the leading causes of the alarming growth of poetry in our times. If some check wrere not given to this lawless facility, we should soon be overrun by a race of bards as numerous and as shallow as the hundred and twenty thousand Streams of Basra.a They who succeeded in this style deserved chastisement for their very success;— as wTarriors have been punished, even after gaining a victory, because they had taken the liberty of gaining it in an irregular or unestablished manner. What, then, was to be said to those who failed ? to those who presumed, as in the a “It is said that the rivers or streams of Basra were reckoned in the time of Pelal ben Abi Bordeh, and amounted to the number of one hundred and twenty thousand streams.”—Ebn Haukal.Ii A L L A ROOKH, 177 present lamentable instance, to imitate the license and ease of the bolder sons of song, without any of that grace or vigour wdiich gave a dignity even to negligence;—who, like them, flung the jereeda carelessly, but not, like them, to the mark;—“and who,” said he, raising his voice to excite a proper degree of wakefulness in his hearers, “con- trive to appear heavy and constrained in the midst of all the latitude they allow themselves, like one of those young pagans that dance before the Princess, wdio is ingenious enough to move as if her limbs were fettered, in a pair of the lightest and loosest drawers of Masulipatam!” It wras but little suitable, he continued, to the grave march of criticism to follow this fantastical Peri, of whom they had just heard, through all her flights and adventures between earth and heaven ; but he could not help adverting to the puerile conceitedness of the Three Gifts wdiich she is supposed to carry to the skies,—a drop of blood, forsooth, a sigh, and a tear! Howr the first of these articles was delivered into the Angel’s “ radiant hand” he professed himself at a loss to discover; and as to the safe carriage of the sigh and the tear, such Peris and such poets wrere beings by far too incomprehensible for him even to guess howT they managed such matters. “But, in short,” said he, “it is a wraste of time and patience to dwell longer upon a thing so a The name of the javelin with which the Easterns exercise___See Castellan, Mceurs des Othomans, tom. iii. p. 161.178 L A L L A ROOKH. incurably frivolous,—puny even among its own puny race, and such as only the Banyan Hospitala for Sick Insects should undertake.” In vain did Lalla Rookh try to soften this inexorable critic; in vain did she resort to her most eloquent common- places,—reminding him that poets were a timid and sensitive race, whose sweetness was not to be drawn forth, like that of the fragrant grass near the Ganges, by crushing and trampling upon them;b—that severity often extinguished every chance of the perfection which it demanded; and that, after all, perfection was like the Mountain of the Talisman,— no one had ever yet reached its summit.c Neither these gentle axioms, nor the still gentler looks with which they were inculcated, could lower for one instant the elevation of Fadladeen’s eyebrows, or charm him into any thing like a “This account excited a desire of visiting the Banyan Hospital, as I had heard much of their benevolence to all kinds of animals that were either sick, lame, or infirm, through age or accident. On my arrival, there were presented to my view many horses, cows, and oxen, in one apartment; in another, dogs, sheep, goats, and monkeys, with clean straw for them to repose on. Above stairs were depositories for seeds of many sorts, and flat, broad dishes for water, for the use of birds and insects.”—Parson'’s Travels. It is said that all animals know the Banyans, that the most timid approach them, and that birds will fly nearer to them than to other people.—See Grandprc. “ A very fragrant grass from the banks of the Ganges, near Heridwar, which in some places covers whole acres, and diffuses, when crushed, a strong odour.”—Sir IV. Jones on the Spikenard of the Ancients. c “Near this is a curious hill, called Koh Talisrn, the Mountain of the Talisman, because, according to the traditions of the country, no person ever succeeded in gaining its summit.”—Kinneir.LALLA ROOKH. 179 encouragement, or even toleration, of her poet. Toleration, indeed, was not among the weaknesses of Fadladeen;— he carried the same spirit into matters of poetry and of religion, and, though little versed in the beauties or sublimities of either, was a perfect master of the art of persecution in both. His zeal was the same, too, in either pursuit; whether the game before him was pagans or poetasters,—worshippers of cows, or writers of epics. They had now arrived at the splendid city of Lahore, whose mausoleums and shrines, magnificent and numberless, where Death appeared to share equal honours with Heaven, would have powerfully affected the heart and imagination of Lalla Rookh, if feelings more of this earth had not taken entire possession of her already. She was here met by messengers, despatched from Cashmere, who informed her that the King had arrived in the Valley, and was himself superintending the sumptuous preparations that were then making in the Saloons of the Shalimar for her reception. The chill she felt on receiving this intelligence,—which to a bride whose heart was free and light would have brought only images of affection and pleasure,—convinced her that her peace was gone for ever, and that she was in love, irretiiev- ably in love, with young Feramorz. The veil had fallen off in which this passion at first disguises itself, and to know that she loved was now as painful as to love without knowing it had been delicious. Feramorz, too—what misery would De180 LALLA R0OKH. his, if the sweet hours of intercourse so imprudently allowed them should have stolen into his heart the same fatal fascina- tion as into hers;—if, notwithstanding her rank, and the modest homage he always paid to it, even he should have yielded to the influence of those long and happy interviews, where music, poetry, the delightful scenes of nature,—all had tended to bring their hearts close together, and to waken by every means that too ready passion, which often, like the young of the desert-bird, is warmed into life by the eyes alone !a She saw but one way to preserve herself from being culpable as well as unhappy, and this, however painful, she ,vas resolved to adopt. Feramorz must no more be admitted to her presence. To have strayed so far into the dangerous labyrinth was wrong, but to linger in it, while the clew was yet in her hand, would be criminal. Though the heart she had to offer to the King of Bucharia might be cold and broken, it should at least be pure; and she must only endeavour to forget the short dream of happiness she had enjoyed,—like that Arabian shepherd, who, in wandering into the wilderness, caught a glimpse of the Gardens of Irim, and then lost them again for ever!b The arrival of the young Bride at Lahore was celebrated in the most enthusiastic manner. The Rajas and Omras ir. “ The Arabians believe that the ostriches hatch their young by only look ing at them.”—P. Vanshbe, Relat. dC Egyptc, b See Sale's Koran, note, vol. ii. p. 484.LALLA ROOKE 181' her train, who had kept at a certain distance during the journey, and never encamped nearer to the Princess than was strictly necessary for her safeguard, here rode in splendid cavalcade through the city, and distributed the most costly presents to the crowd. Engines were erected in all the squares, which cast forth showers of confectionary among the people: while the artisans, in chariots,a adorned with tinsel and flying streamers, exhibited the badges of their respective trades through the streets. Such brilliant displays of life and pageantry among the palaces, and domes, and gilded minarets of Lahore, made the city altogether, like a place of enchantment;—particularly on the day when Lalla Kookii set out again upon her journey, when she was accompanied to the gate by all the fairest and richest of the nobility, and rode along between ranks of beautiful boys and girls, who kept waving over their heads plates of gold and silver flowers,b and then threw them around to be gathered by the populace. For many days after their departure from Lahore, a considerable degree of gloom hung over the whole party. Lalla Rookh, who had intended to make illness her excuse for not admitting the young minstrel, as usual, to a Oriental Tales. b Ferishta. “ Or rather,” says Scott, upon the passage of Ferishta from which this is taken, “small coins, stamped with the figure of a flower. They ato still used in India to distribute in charity, and, on occasion, thrown by the purse-bearers oi the great among the populace.” Q182 L A L L A ROOKH. the pavilion, soon found that to feign indisposition was unnecessary;—Fadladeen felt the loss of the good road they had hitherto travelled, and was very near cursing Jehan-Guire (of blessed memory!) for not having continued his delectable alley of trees,a at least as far as the moun- tains of Cashmere ;—while the Ladies, who had nothing now to do all day but to be fanned by peacocks’ feathers and listen to Fadladeen, seemed heartily weary of the life they led, and, in spite of all the Great Chamberlain’s criticisms, were so tasteless as to wish for the poet again. One evening, as they were proceeding to their place of rest for the night, the Princess, who, for the freer enjoyment of the air, had mounted her favourite Arabian palfrey, in passing by a small grove, heard the notes of a lute from within its leaves, and a voice, which she but too well knew, singing the. following words :— Tell me not of joys above, If that world can give no bliss. Truer, happier than the Love Which enslaves our souls in this. a The fine road made by the Emperor Jehan-Guire from Agra to Lahore, slanted with trees on each side. The road is two hundred and fifty leagues in length, [t has “ little pyramids or turrets,” says Farmer, “erected eveiy half league, to mark the ways, and frequent wells to afford drink to passenger^ ind to water the young trees.”L A L L A ROOKH. I9» Tell me not of Houris’ eyes ;— Far from me their dangerous glow.. If those looks that light the skies Wound like some that burn below. Who, that feels what Love is here, All its falsehood—all its pain— Would, for ev’n Elysium’s sphere, Risk the fatal dream again ? Who, that midst a desert’s heat Sees the waters fade away, Would not rather die than meet Streams again as false as they? The tone of melancholy defiance in which these words were uttered, went to Lalla Rookh’s heart;—and, as she reluctantly rode on, she could not help feeling it to be a sad but still sweet certainty, that Feramorz was to the full as enamoured and miserable as herself. The place where they encamped that evening was the first delightful spot they had come to since they left Lahoie. On one side of them was a grove full of small Hindoo temples, and planted with the most graceful trees of the East; where the tamarind, the cassia, and the silken plantains of Ceylon184 L A L L A ROOKH, were mingled in rich contrast with the high fan-like foliage of the Palmyra,—that favourite tree of the luxurious bird that lights up the chambers of its nest with fire-flies.a In the middle of the lawn where the pavilion stood there was a tank surrounded by small mangoe-trees, on the clear cold waters of which floated multitudes of the beautiful red lotus ;b while at a distance stood the ruins of a strange and awful-looking tower, which seemed old enough to have been the temple of some religion no longer known, and which spoke the voice of desolation in the midst of all that bloom and loveliness. This singular ruin excited the wonder and conjectures of all. Lalla Rookh guessed in vain, and the all-pretending Fad- ladeen, who had never till this journey been beyond the precincts of Delhi, was proceeding most learnedly to show that he knew nothing whatever about the matter, when one of the Ladies suggested that perhaps Feramorz could satisfy their curiosity. They were now approaching his native mountains, and this tower might perhaps be a relic of some of those dark superstitions, which had prevailed in that country before the light of Islam dawned upon it. The Chamberlain, who usually preferred his own ignorance to the best knowledge that any one else could give him, was by no The Bay a, or Indian Gross-beak.—Sir IV. Jones. b “ Here is a large pagoda by a tank, on the water of which float multitudes of the beautiful red lotus: the flower is larger than that of the white water-lily and is the most lovely of the nympliaeas I have seen.”—Mrs. Graham's Journal of a Residence in India.L A L L A ROOKH, 185 means pleased with this officious reference; and the Princess, too, was about to interpose a faint word of objection; but before either of them could speak, a slave was despatched for Feramorz, who, in a very few minutes, made his appear- ance before them—looking so pale and unhappy in Lalla Rookh’s eyes, that she repented already of her cruelty in having so long excluded him. That venerable tower, he told them, was the remains of an ancient Fire Temple, built by those Ghebers or Persians of the old religion, who, many hundred years since, had fled hither from their Arab conquerors,a preferring liberty and their altars in a foreign land to the alternative of apostasy or persecution in their own. It was impossible, he added, not to feel interested in the many glorious but unsuccessful struggles, which had been made by these original natives of Persia to cast off the yoke of their bigoted conquerors. Like their own Fire in the Burning Field at Bakou,h when suppiessed in one place, they had but broken out with fresh flame in another; and as a native of Cashmere, of that fair and Holy Valley, which had in the same manner become the a “ On les voit persecutes par Ies Khalifes se retirer dans les montagnes du Kerman: plusieurs choisirent pour retraite ia Tartarie et la Chine; d’autres s’arreterent sur les bords du Gange, a Test de Delhi.”—M. Anquetil, Memoire* de l’Academie, tom. xxxi. p. 346-, }J The “ Ager ardens” described by Kcmpfcr, Amxnilcit. ExoU q2186 L A L L A ROOKH. prey of strangers/ and seen her ancient shrines and native princes swept away before the march of her intolerant invaders, he felt a sympathy, he owned, with the sufferings of the persecuted Ghebers, which every monument like this before them but tended more powerfully to awaken. It was the first time that Feramorz had ever ventured upon so much prose before Fadladeen, and it may easily be conceived what effect such prose as this must have produced upon that most orthodox and most pagan-hating personage. He sat for some minutes aghast, ejaculating only at intervals, “Bigoted conquerors!—sympathy with Fire-worshippers !”b —while Feramorz, happy to take advantage of this almost speechless horror of the Chamberlain, proceeded to say that he knew a melancholy story, connected with the events of one of those struggles of the brave Fire-worshippers against their Arab masters, which, if the evening was not too far advanced, he should have much pleasure in being allowed to relate to the Princess. It was impossible for Lalla Rookh lo refuse:—he had never before looked half so animated; a “ Cashmere (say its historians) had its own princes four thousand years before its conquest by Akbar in 1585. Akbar would have found some difficulty to reduce this paradise of the Indies, situated as it is within such a fortress of mountains, but its monarch, Yusef-Khan, was basely betrayed by his Omrahs.” — Pennant. b Voltaire tells us that, in his Tragedy “Les Guebres,” he was generally supposed to have alluded to the Jansenists. I should not be surprised if this story of the Fire-worshippers were found capable of a similar doublencss of application.L ALL A ROOKII 187 and when he spoke of the Holy Valley, his eyes had sparkled, 6he thought, like the talismanic characters on the scimitar of Solomon. Her consent was therefore most readily granted; and while Fadladeen sat in unspeakable dismay, expecting treason and abomination in every line, the poet thus began his story of the Fire-worshippers:—THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. ’Tis moonlight over Oman’s Sea:q Her banks of pearl and palmy isles Bask in the night-beam beauteously, And her blue waters sleep in smiles ’Tis moonlight in Harmozia’s1' walls, And through her Emir’s porphyry halls. Where some hours since, was heard the swell Of trumpet and the clash of zel,c Bidding the bright-eyed sun farewdl;— The peaceful sun, whom better suits The music of the bulbul’s nest, Or the light touch of lovers’ lutes, To sing him to his golden rest a The Persian Gulf, sometimes so called, which separates the shores ot Persia and Arabia. b The present Gombaroon, a town on the Persian side of the Gulf. c A Moorish instrument of music. 188T1IE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 1S9 All hushed—there’s not a breeze in motion; The shore is silent as the ocean. If zephyrs come, so light they come, Nor leaf is stirred nor wave is driven;— The wind-tower on the Emir’s domea Can hardly win a breath from heaven. Ev’n he, that tyrant Arab, sleeps Calm, while a nation round him weeps; While curses load the air he breathes, Vnd falchions from unnumbered sheaths Are starting to avenge the shame His race hath brought on Iran’s13 name. Hard, heartless Chief, unmoved alike • ’Mid eyes that weep, and swords that strike; One of that saintly, murderous brood, To carnage and the Koran given, Who think through unbelievers’ blood Lies their directest path to heaven;— One, who will pause and kneel unshod In the warm blood his hand hath poured, To mutter o’er some text of God Engraven on his reeking sword ;c—■ a “ At Gombaroon and other places in Persia, they have towers for the pur- pose of catching the wind, and cooling the houses.”—Lc firvyn. b “Iran is the true general name for the empire of Persia.”—/Lsiat. Res. Disc. 5. c “ On the blades of their scimitars some verse from the Koran is usually inscribed.”—Russel.190 LALLA ROOKH. Nay, who can coolly note the line, The letter of those words divine, To which his blade, with searching art, Had sunk into its victim’s heart! Just Alla ! what must be thy look, When such a wretch before thee stands Unblushing, with thy Sacred Book,— Turning the leaves with blood-stained hands, And wresting from its page sublime His creed of lust, and hate, and crime;— Ev’n as those bees of Trebizond, Which, from the sunniest flowers that glad With their pure smile the gardens round, Draw venom forth that drives men mad.a Never did fierce Arabia send A satrap forth more direly great; Never was Iran doomed to bend Beneath a yoke of deadlier weight. Her throne had fallen—her pride was crushed— Her sons were willing slaves, nor blushed In their own land,—no more their own,— To crouch beneath a stranger’s throne. a “There is a kind of Rhododendros about Trebizond, whose flowers the Dee feeds upon, and the honey thence drives people mad.”—Tournejort.191 THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. Her towers, where Mithra once had burned, To Moslem shrines—0 shame !—were turned, Where slaves, converted by the sword, Their mean, apostate worship poured, And cursed the faith their sires adored. Yet has she hearts, mid all this ill, O’er all this wreck high buoyant still With hope and vengeance ;—hearts that yet— Like gems, in darkness, issuing rays They’ve treasured from the sun that’s set— Beam all the light of long-lost days! And swords she hath, nor weak nor slow To second, all such hearts can dare; As he shall know, well, dearly know Who sleeps in moonlight luxury there, Tranquil as if his spirit lay Becalmed m Heaven’s approving ray. Sleep on—for purer eyes than thine Those waves are hushed, those planets shine, Sleep on, and be thy rest unmoved By the white moonbeam’s dazzling power;* None but the loving and the loved Should be awake at this sweet hour. . v f * i And see—where, high above those rocks That o’er the deep their shadows fling, Yon turret stands ;—where ebon locks,192 L A L L A ROOKH. As glossy as a heron’s wing Upon the turban of a king,a Hang from the lattice, long and wild,—* ’Tis she, that Emir’s blooming child, All truth and tenderness and grace, Though born of such ungentle race;— An image of Youth’s radiant Fountain Springing in a desolate mountain!b 0, what a pure and sacred thing Is Beauty, curtained from the sight Of the gross world, illumining One only mansion with her light! Unseen by man's disturbing eye,— The flower that blooms beneath the sea, Too deep for sunbeams, doth not lie Hid in more chaste obscurity. So, Hinda, have thy face and mind, Like holy mysteries, lain enshrined. And, 0, what transport for a lover To lift the veil that shades them o’er!— Like those who, all at once, discover In the lone deep some fairy shore, Where mortal never trod before, a “Their kings wear plumes of black herons’ feathers upon the rip^t side, as a badge of sovereignty.”—Hanway. “ The Fountain of Youth, by a Mahometan tradition, is situate^ n -some dark region of the East.”—Richardson*THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 193 And sleep and wake in scented airs No lip had ever breathed but theirs. Beautiful are the maids that glide, On summer-eves, through Yemen’s a dales, And bright the glancing looks they hide Behind their litters’ roseate veils ;— And brides, as delicate and fair As the white jasmine flowers they wear, Hath Yemen in her blissful clime, Who, lulled in cool kiosk or bower,h Before their mirrors count the time,c And grow still lovelier every hour. a Arabia Felix. b “ In the midst of the garden is the chiosk, that is, a large room, commonly beautified with a fine fountain in the midst of it. It is raised nine or ten steps, and enclosed with gilded lattices, round which vines, jessamines, and honey- suckles, make a sort of green wall; large trees are planted round this place, which is the scene of their greatest pleasures.”—Lady M. W. Montagu. c The women of the East are never without their looking-glasses. “ In Barbary,” says Shaw, “they are so fond of their looking-glasses, which they hang upon their breasts, that they will not lay them aside, even when, after the drudgery of the day, they are obliged to go two or three miles with a pitcher or a goat’s skin to fetch water.”—Travels. In other parts of Asia they wear little looking-glasses on their thumbs. “Hence (and from the lotus being considered the emblem of beauty) is the meaning of the following mute intercourse of two lovers before their parents:— “ ‘He, with salute of deference due, A lotus to his forehead pressed; She raised her mirror to his view, Then turned it inward to her breast.’ ” Asiatic Miscellany, vol. iL R194 LALLA ROOKH. But never yet hath bride or maid In Araby’s gay Haram smiled, Whose boasted brightness would not fade Before Al Hassan’s blooming child. Light as the angel shapes that bless An infant’s dream, yet not the less Rich in all woman’s loveliness ;— With eyes so pure, that from their ray Dark Vice would turn abashed away, Blinded like serpents, when they gaze Upon the emerald’s virgin blaze ;a— Yet filled with all youth’s sweet desires, Mingling the meek and vestal fires Of other worlds with all the bliss, The fond, weak tenderness of this ; A soul, too, more than half divine, Where, through some shades of earthly feeling, Religion’s softened glories shine, Like light through summer foliage stealing, Shedding a glow of such mild hue, So warm, and yet so shadowy too, As makes the very darkness there More beautiful than light elsewhere. a “ They say that if a snake or serpent fix his eyes on the lustre of those clones, (emeralds,) he immediately becomes blind.’’—Ahmed hen Abdalazizy Treatise on Jewels.THE FIRE-W O k S H I P P E R S. 195 Such is the maid who, at this hour, Hath risen from her restless sleep, And sits alone in that high bower, Watching the still and shining deep. Ah! ’twas not thus,—with tearful eyes And beating heart,—she used to gaze On the magnificent earth and skies, In her own land, in happier days. Why looks she now so anxious down Among those rocks, whose rugged frown Blackens the mirror of the deep ? Whom waits she all this lonely night ? Too rough the rocks, too bold the steep, For man to scale that turret’s height!— So deemed at least her thoughtful sire, When high, to catch the cool night-air, After the daybeam’s withering fire,a He built her bowTer of freshness there, And had it decked with costliest skill, And fondly thought it safe as fair:— Think, reverend dreamer! think so still, Nor wake to learn what Love can dare - Love, all-defying Love, who sees No charm in trophies won with ease;— a “At Gombaroon and the Isle of Ormus it is sometimes so hot, tba* me people are obliged to lie all day in the water.”—Marco Polo.19G LALLA R 0 O £ H. Whose rarest, dearest fruits of bliss Are plucked on danger’s precipice! Bolder than they, who dare not dive For pearls, but when the sea’s at rest, Love, in the tempest most alive, Hath ever held that pearl the best He finds beneath the stormiest water. Yes—Araby’s unrivalled daughter, Though high that tower, that rock-way rude, There’s one who, but to kiss thy cheek, Would climb th’ untrodden solitude Of Ararat’s tremendous peak,a And think its steeps, though dark and dread, Heaven’s pathways, if to thee they led! Ev’n now thou seest the flashing spray, That lights his oar’s impatient way;— Ev’n now thou hear’st the sudden shock Of his swift bark against the rock, a u This mountain is generally supposed to be inaccessible. Stray says, I can well assure the reader that their opinion is not true, who suppose this mount to be inaccessible.” He adds, that “the lower part of the mountain is cloudy, misty, and dark, the middlemost part very cold, and like clouds of snow, but the upper regions perfectly calm.”—It was on this mountain that the ark was supposed to have rested after the Deluge, and part of it, they say, exists there stih, which Struy thus gravely accounts for:—“ Whereas none can remember that the air on the top of the hill did ever change or was subject either to wind or rain, which is presumed to be the reason that the Ark has endured so long without being rotten.”—See Carreris Travels, where the Doctor laughs at this whole account of Mount Ararat.THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. m An I stretchest down thy arms of snow, As if to lift him from below ! Like her to whom, at dead of night, The bridegroom, with his locks of light,* Came, in the flush of love and pride, And scaled the terrace of his bride;— When, as she saw him rashly spring, And midway up in danger cling, She flung him down her long black hair, Exclaiming, breathless, “ There, love, there!” And scarce did manlier nerve uphold The hero Zal in that fond hour, Than wings the youth who, fleet and bold, Now climbs die rocks to Hinda’s bower. See—light as up their granite steeps The rock-goats of Arabia clamber,0 Fearless from crag to crag he leaps, And now is in the maiden’s chamber. She loves—but knows not whom she loves, Nor what his race, nor whence he came ;—- a In one of the books of the Shah Nameh, when Zal (a celebrated hero of Persia, remarkable for his white hair) comes to the terrace of his mistress Rodahver at night, she lets down her long tresses to assist him in his ascent;— he, however, manages it in a less romantic way by fixing his crook in a projecting beam.”—See Champion’s Ferdosi. b “ On the lofty hills of Arabia Petraea are lock-goats.”—Niebuhr. r 2198 L A L L A ROOKH, Like one who meets, in Indian groves, Some beauteous bird without a name, Brought by the last ambrosial breeze, From isles in th’ undiscovered seas, To show his plumage for a day To wondering eyes, and wing away! Will he thus fly—her nameless lover ? Alla forbid ! ’twas by a moon As fair as this, while singing over Some ditty to her soft Kanoon,a Alone, at this same witching hour, She first beheld his radiant eyes Gleam through the lattice of the bower, Where nightly now they mix their sighs; And thought some spirit of the air (For what could waft a mortal there ?) Was pausing on his moonlight way To listen to her lonely lay! This fancy ne’er hath left her mind: And—though, when terror’s swoon had past, She saw a youth, of mortal kind, Before her in obeisance cast,— Yet often since, when he hath spoken Strange, awful words,—and gleams have broken « “ Canun, espece de psalterion, avec des cordes de boyaux; les dames en touchent dans le sen ail, avec des decailles amides de pointes de cooc.’ — Toderini, translated De Cournand.THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. IfM? From his dark eyes, too bright to bear, 0! she hath feared her soul was given To some unhallowed child of air, Some erring Spirit cast from heaven, Like those angelic youths of old, Who burned for maids of mortal mould, Bewildered left the glorious skies, And lost their heaven for woman’s eyes. Fond girl! nor fiend nor angel he Who wooes thy young simplicity; But one of earth’s impassioned sons, As warm in love, as fierce in ire As the best heart whose current runs Full of the Day-God’s living fire. But quenched to-night that ardour seems, And pale his cheek, and sunk his brow Never before, but in her dreams, Had she beheld him pale as now: And those were dreams of troubled sleep, From which ’twas joy to wake and weep ; Visions, that will not be forgot, But sadden every waking scene, Like warning ghosts, that leave the spot All withered where they once have been.200 LALLA ROOKK. “How sweetly/5 said the trembling maid. Of her own gentle voice afraid, So long had they in silence stood, Looking upon that tranquil flood— “How sweetly does the moonbeam smile “ To-night upon yon leafy isle ! “ Oft, in my fancy’s wanderings, “ I’ve wished that little isle had wings, “And we, within its fairy bowers, “Were wafted off to seas unknown, “ Where not a pulse should beat but ours, “And we might live, love, die alone t “Far from the cruel and the cold,— “Where the bright eyes of angels only “ Should come around us, to behold “A paradise so pure and lonely. “Would this be world enough for thee ?”— Playful she turned, that he might see The passing smile her cheek put on ; But when she marked how mournfully His eyes met hers, that smile was gone; And, bursting into heartfelt tears, “Yes, yes,” she cried, “ my hourly fears, “My dreams have boded all too right— “We part—for ever part—to-night! “I knew, I knew it could not last— “ ’Twas bright, ’twas heavenly, but ’tis pastIviy dream s lrave.be >ded all too right. We part— for ever } Dart—to- night' I knew. I 1 niev,r it cc mld no t last— Twas bru Jilt, ‘twas 1 reavenl Vr, b ut tisTHE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 201 “ 0 ! ever thus, from childhood’s hour, “ I’ve seen my fondest hopes decay ; “I never loved a tree or flower, “But ’twas the first to fade away. “I never nursed a dear gazelle, “To glad me with its soft black eye, “But when it came to know me well, “ And love me, it was sure to die! “Now too—the joy most like divine “ Of all I ever dreamt or knew, “To see thee, hear thee, call thee mine,— “ 0 misery! must I lose that too! “Yet go—on peril’s brink we meet; “Those frightful rocks—that treacherous sea— “No, never come again—though sweet, “ Though heaven, it may be death to thee “Farewell—and blessings on thy way, “Where’er thou go’st, beloved stranger! “ Better to sit and watch that ray, “And think thee safe, though far away, “Than have thee near me, and in danger!v “ Danger!—0, tempt me not to boast—” The youth exclaimed—“thou little know’st “What he can brave, who, born and nursed “ In Danger’s paths, has dared her worst;“Upon whose ear the signal-word “ Of strife and death is hourly breaking; “Who sleeps with head upon the sword “His fevered hand must grasp in waking. “Danger!” “ Say on—thou fear’st not tnezi “And we may meet—oft meet again!” “ 0 ! look not so—beneath the skies, “ I now fear nothing but those eyes. “ If aught on earth could charm or force “My spirit from its destined course,— “If aught could make this soul forget “ The bond to which its seal is set, “ ’Twould be those eyes;—they, only they, “ Could melt that sacred seal away! “But no—’tis fixed—my awful doom “Is fixed—on this side of the tomb “We meet no more;—why, why did Heaven “Mingle two souls that earth has riven, “Has rent asunder wide as ours? “ 0, Arab maid, as soon the Powers “ Of Light and Darkness may combine, “ As I be linked with thee or thine! “Thy Father-----” “ Holy Alla, save “His gray heac from that lightning glance-THE FIRE -WORSHIPPERS. 203 “ Thou know’st him not—lie lo^es the brav^ “Nor lives there under heaven’s expanse “ One who would prize, would worship dree “ And thy bold spirit more than he. “ Oft when, in childhood, I have playcv “ With the bright falchion by his sid “I’ve heard him swear his lisping maio “In time should be a warrior’s bride “ And still, whene’er at Haram hours, “I take him cool sherbets and flowers, “He tells me, when in playful mood, “A hero shall my bridegroom be, “ Since maids are best in battle wooed, “And won with shouts of victory! “Nay, turn not from me—thou alone “Art formed to make both hearts thy own. “ Go—j oin his sacred ranks—thou know’st “ Th’ unholy strife these Persians wage:— “Good Heaven, that frown!—even now thou glow’st “ With more than mortal warrior’s rage. “Haste to the camp by morning’s light, “ And, when that sword is raised in fight, “0, still remember, Love and I “Beneath its shadow trembling lie! “One victory o’er those Slaves of Fire, “ Those impious Ghebers, whom my sire “ Abhors-----”204 LALLA ROOKH. “Hold, hold—thy words are death—” The stranger cried, as wild he flung His mantle back, and showed beneath The Gheber belt that round him clung.*-— “ Here, maiden, look—weep—blush to see “ All that thy sire abhors in me! “ Yes—I am of that impious race, “ Those Slaves of Fire, who, morn and even, “ Hail their Creator’s dwelling-place ^Amonsf the living* lights of heaven :b “Yes—/am of that outcast few, “To Iran and to vengeance true, a « They (the Ghebers) lay so much stress on their cushee or girdle, as not to dare to be an instant without it.”—Groses Voyage.—“ Le jeune homme nia d’abord la chose; mais, ayant ete depouille de sa robe, et la large eeinture qu’il portoit comme Ghebr,” &c. &c—D1 Herbelot, art. Agduani. “ Pour se distinguer des Idolatres de l'lnde, les Guebres se ceignent tons d'un cordon de laine, ou de poil de chameau.”—Encyclopedic Franqoise. D’Herbelot says this belt was generally of leather. b “They suppose the Throne of the Almighty is seated in the sun, and hence their worship of that luminary.”—Hanway. “ As to fire, the Ghebers place the spring-head of it in that globe of fire, the Sun, by them called Mythras, or Mihir, to which they pay the highest reverence, in gratitude for the manifold benefits flowing from its ministerial omniscience. But they are so far from confounding the subordination of the Servant with the majesty of its Creator, that they not only attribute no sort of sense or reasoning to the sun or fire, in any of its operations, but consider it as a purely passive, blind instrument, directed and governed by the immediate impression on it of the will of God ; but they do not even give that luminary, all-glorious as it is, more than the second rank amongst his works, reserving the first for that stupendous production of divine power, the mind of man.”—Grose. The false charges brought against the religion of these people by their Mussulman tyrants is but one proof among many of the truth of this writer's remark, that “calumny is often added tu oppression, if but for the sake of justifying it.”THE FIRE - WOKSHI? PER S. 205 “ Who curse the hour your Arabs came “To desolate nur shrines of flame, “And swear, before God’s burning eye, “ To break our country’s chains, or die! “Thy bigot sire,—nay, tremble not,— “He, who gave birth to those dear eyes, “With me is sacred as the spot “From which our fires of worship rise! “But know—’twas he I sought that night, “When, from my watch-boat on the sea, “I caught this turret’s glimmering light, “And up the rude rocks desperately “Rushed to my prey—thou know’st the rest— “I climbed the gory vulture’s nest, “And found a trembling dove within;— “Thine, thine the victory—thine the sin— “If Love hath made one thought his own, “That Vengeance claims first—last—alone! “ 0 ! had we never, never met, “ Or could this heart ev’n now forget “ How linked, how blessed we might have been, “ Had fate not frowned so dark between ! “Hadst thou been born a Persian maid, “ In neighbouring valleys had we dwelt, “Through the same fields in childhood played “ At the same kindling altar knelt,206 LALLA ROOKH. “ Then, then, while all those nameless ties, “ In which the charm of Country lies, “Had round our hearts been hourly spun, “ Till Iran’s cause and thine were one ; “While in thy lute’s awakening sigh “I heard the voice of days gone by, “And saw, in every smile of thine, “ Returning hours of glory shine ;— “While the wronged Spirit of our Land “Lived, looked, and spoke her wrongs tnrough thee,— “ God ! who could then this sword withstand? “ Its very flash were victory ! “But now,—estranged, divorced for ever, “Far as the grasp of Fate can sever; “ Our only ties what Love has wove,—- “In faith, friends, country, sundered Wide; “And then, then only, true to love, “ When false to all that’s dear beside! “Thy father Iran’s deadliest foe— “Thyself, perhaps, ev’n now—but no—• “ Hate never looked so lovely yet! “No—sacred to thy soul will be “ The land of him who could forget “All but that bleeding land for thee. “ When other eyes shall see, unmoved, “Her widows mourn, her warriors fall,"Fiercely lie broke away, nor stopp'd, Nor look'd—but from the lattice drop]: Down mid the pointed As if he tied from love iTHE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 207 “Thou’lt think how well one Gheber loved, “ And for his sake thou’lt weep for all! “But look------” With sudden start he turned, 4 And pointed to the distant wave, Where lights, like charnel meteors, burned Bluely, as o’er some seaman’s grave ; And fiery darts, at intervals/ Flew up all sparkling from the main, As if each star that nightly falls, Were shooting: back to heaven again. “ My signal lights !—I must away— “ Both, both are ruined if I stay. “ Farewell—sweet life ! thou cling’st in vain—- “Now, Vengeance, I am thine again!” Fiercely he broke away, nor stopped, Nor looked—but from the lattice dropped Down mid the pointed crags beneath, As if he fled from love to death. While pale and mute young Hinda stood, Nor moved, till in the silent flood A momentary plunge below Startled her from her trance of woe a“The Mameluks that were in the other boat, when it was (lark, used to shoot up a sort of fiery arrows into the air, which in some measure resembled lightning or falling stars.”—Baumgarten.208 L A L L A ROOKH. Shrieking she to the lattice flew, “I come—I come—if in that tide “ Thou sleep’st to-night, I’ll sleep there too, “In death’s cold wedlock, by thy side. “ 0! I would ask no happier bed “ Than the chill wave my love lies under; “ Sweeter to rest together dead, “Far sweeter, than to live asunder!” But no—their hour is not yet come— Again she sees his pinnace fly, Wafting him fleetly to his home, Where’er that ill-starred home may lie; And calm and smooth it seemed to win Its moonlight way before the wind, As if it bore all peace within, Nor left one breaking heart behind!LALLA ROOKH. 209 The Princess, whose heart was sad enough already, could have wished that Feramorz had chosen a less melan- choly story; as it is only to the happy that tears are a luxury. Her Ladies, however, were by no means sorry that love was once more the Poet’s theme; for, whenever he spoke of love, they said, his voice was as sweet as if he had chewed the leaves of that enchanted tree, which grows over the tomb of the musician, Tan-Sein.a Their road all the morning had lam through a very dreary country;—through valleys, covered with a low bushy jungle, where, in more than one place, the awful signal of the bamboo staff,b with the white flag at its top, reminded a « Within the enclosure which surrounds this monument (at Guaiior) is a small tomb to the memory of Tan-Sein, a musician of incomparable skill, who flourished at the court of Akbar. The tomb is overshadowed by a tree, con- cerning which a superstitious notion prevails, that the chewing of its leaves will give an extraordinary melody to the voice.”—Narrative of a Journey from Jlgra to Ouzein, by IV. Hunter, Esq. b “ It is usual to place a small white triangular flag, fixed to a bamboo staff of ten or twelve feet long, at the place where a tiger has destroyed a man. It is common for the passengers also to throw each a stone or brick near the spot, so that in the course of a little time a pile equal to a good wagon-load is col- lected. The sight of these flags and piles of stones imparts a certain melan- choly, not perhaps, altogether void of apprehension.”—Oriental Field Sports, vol. ii. s 2210 LALLA ROOKH. the traveller, that in that very spot the tiger had made some human creature his victim. It was, therefore, with much pleasure that they arrived at sunset in a safe and lovely glen, and encamped under one of those holy trees, whose smooth columns and spreading roofs seem to destine them for natural temples of religion. Beneath this spacious shade, some pious hands had erected a row of pillars ornamented with the most beautiful porcelain,a which now supplied the use of mirrors to the young maidens, as they adjusted their hair in descending from the palankeens. Here, while, as usual, the Princess sat listening anxiously, with Fadladeen in one of his loftiest moods of criticism by her side, the young Poet, leaning against a branch of the tree, thus continued his story:— a “The Ficus Indica is called the Pagod-Tree and Tree of Councils; the first, from the idols placed under its shade; the second, because meetings were held under its cool branches. In some places it is believed to be the haunt of spectres, as the ancient spreading oaks of Wales have been of fairies; in others are erected beneath the shade pillars of stone or posts, elegantly carved, and ornamented with the most beautiful porcelain tc supply the use of mirrors ”—1 Pennant•THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. till The morn hath risen clear and calm, And o’er the Green Seaa palely shines. Revealing Bahrein’s13 groves of palm, And lighting Kishma’s13 amber vines. Fresh smell the shores of Araby, While breezes from the Indian Sea Blow round Selama’sc sainted cape, And curl the shining flood beneath,—- Whose waves are rich with many a grape, And cocoa-nut and flowery wreath, Which pious seamen, as they passed, Had toward that holy headland cast— Oblations to the Genii there For gentle skies and breezes fair! The nightingale now bends her flightd From the high trees, where all the night a The* Persian Gulf.—“To dive for pearls in the Green Sea, or Persian Gulf.’--Sir W. Jones. b Islands in the Gulf. c Or Selemeh, the genuine name of the headland at the entrance of the Gulf, commonly called Cape Musseldom. “The Indians, when they pass the promontory, throw cocoa-nuts, fruits, or flowers into the sea, to secure a propi* tious voyage.”—Morier. d “ The nightingale sings from the pomegranate-groves in the day-time, and from the loftiest trees at night”—Russel’s Aleppo.21? LALLA ROOK II. She sung so sweet with none to listen; And hides her from the morning star "Where thickets of pomegranate glisten In the clear dawn,—bespangled o’er With dew, whose night-drops would not stain The best and brightest scimitar d That ever youthful Sultan wore On the first morning of his reign. And see—the Sun himself!—on wings Of glory up the East he springs. Angel of Light! who, from the time Those heavens began their march sublime, Hath first of all the starry choir Trod in his Maker’s steps of fire! Where are the days, thou wondrous sphere* • When Iran, like a sunflower, turned To meet that eye where’er it burned? When from the banks of Bendemeer To the nut-groves of Samarcand, Thy temples flamed o’er all the land? Where are they? ask the shades of them Who, on Cadessia’s1" bloody plains, a In speaking of the climate of Shiraz, Francklin says, “The clew is of sucn a pure nature, that if the brightest scimitar should be exposed to it all night, it would not receive the least rust.” 11 The place where the Persians were finally defeated lw the Arabs, and then ancient monarchy destroyed.THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 213 Saw fierce invaders pluck the gem From Iran’s broken diadem, And bind her ancient faith in chains:— Ask the poor exile, cast alone On foreign shores, unloved, unknown, Beyond the Caspian’s Iron Gates,a Or on the snowy Mossian mountains, Far from his beauteous land of dates, Her jasmine bowers and sunny fountains: Yet happier so than if he trod His own beloved, but blighted, sod, Beneath a despot stranger’s nod!— 0, he would rather houseless roam Where Freedom and his God may lead, Than be the sleekest slave at home That crouches to the conqueror’s creed! Is Iran’s pride then gone for ever, Quenched with the flame in Mithra’s caves?— No—she has sons, that never—never— Will stoop to be the Moslem’s slaves, While heaven has light or earth has graves;— Spirits of fire, that brood not long, But flash resentment back for wrong; a Derbend—“ Les Turcs appellent cette ville Demir Capi, Porte de ter ce sont les Caspiae Portae des anciens.”—D’Herbelot.214 LALLA ROOKH And hearts where, slow but deep, the seeds Of vengeance ripen into deeds, Till, in some treacherous hour of calm, They burst, like Zeilan’s giant palm,a Whose buds fly open with a sound That shakes the pigmy forests round! Yes, Emir! lie, who scaled that tower, And, had he reached thy slumbering breast, Had taught thee, in a Gheber’s power How safe ev’n tyrant heads may rest— Is one of many, brave as he, Who loathe thy haughty race and thee ; Who, though they know the strife is vain, Who, though they know the riven chain Snaps but to enter in the heart Of him who rends its links apart, Yet dare the issue,—blessed to be Ev’n for one bleeding moment free, And die in pangs of liberty! Thou know’st them well—’tis some moons since, Thy turbaned troops and blood-red flags, a The Talpot or Talipot-tree. “This beautiful palm-tree, which grows in the heart of the forests, may be classed among the loftiest trees, and becomes still higher when on the point of bursting forth from its leafv summit. The sheath which then envelopes the flower is very large, and, when it bursts, makes an explosion like the report of a cannon.5’— Thun berg*THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS, 215 Thou satrap of a bigot Prince, Have swarmed among these Green Sea crags ; Yet here, ev’n here, a sacred band, Ay, in the portal of that land Thou, Arab, dar’st to call thy own, Their spears across thy path have thrown; Here—ere the winds half winged thee o’er—- Rebellion braved thee from the shore. Rebellion ! foul, dishonouring word, Whose wrongful blight so oft has stained The holiest cause that tongue or sword Of mortal ever lost or gained. How many a spirit, born to bless, Hath sunk beneath that withering name, Whom but a day’s, an hour’s success Had wafted to eternal fame! As exhalations, when they burst From the warm earth, if chilled at first, If checked in soaring from the plain, Darken to fogs and sink again;— But, if they once triumphant spread Their wings above the mountain-head, Become enthroned in upper air, And turn to sunbright glories there! And who is he, that wields the might Of Freedom on the Green Sea brink,210 L A L L A ROOKH, Before whose sabre’s dazzling light/ The e)res of Yemen’s warriors wink? Who comes, embowered in the spears Of Kerman’s hardy mountaineers?— Those mountaineers that, truest, last, Cling to their country’s ancient rites, As if that God, whose eyelids cast Their closing gleam on Iran’s heights, Among her snowy mountains threw The last light of his worship too ! ’Tis Hafed—name of fear, whose sound Chills like the muttering of a charm !— Shout but that awful name around, And palsy shakes the manliest arm, ’Tis Hafed, most accursed and dire (So ranked by Moslem hate and ire) Of all the rebel Sons of Fire; Of whose malign, tremendous power The Arabs, at their mid-watch hour, Such tales of fearful wonder tell, That each affrighted sentinel Pulls down his cowl upon his eyes, Lest Hafed in the midst should rise * a “ When the bright cimitars make the eyes of our Heroes wmk.”—Tim frloallakat, Poem oj Jin: *u.THE FI liE*W ORSHIPPERS. 217 A man, they say, of monstrous birth, A mingled race of flame and earth, Sprung from those old, enchanted kings/ Who in their fairy helms, of yore, A feather from the mystic wings Of the Simoorgh resistless wore; And gifted by the Fiends of Fire, Who groaned to see their shrines expire. With charms that, all in vain withstood, Would drown the Koran’s light in blood! Such were the tales that won belief, And such the colouring Fancy gave To a young, warm, and dauntless Chief,— One who, no more than mortal brave, Fought for the land his soul adored, For happy homes and altars free,—- His only talisman, the sword, His only spell-word, Liberty ! One of th t ancient hero line, Along whose glorious current shine Names that have sanctified their blood; As Lebanon’s small mountain flood a Tahmuras, and other ancient Kings of Persia; whose adventures in Fairy- land among the Peris and Dives may be found in Richardson’s curious Disserta tion. The griffin Simoorgh, tnev say, took some feathers from her breast for Tahmuras, with which he adorned his helmet, and transmitted them afterwards to his descendants, T2iS LALLA ROOKH. Is rendered holy by the ranks Of sainted cedars on its banks.a ’Twas not for him to crouch the knee Tamely to Moslem tyranny; ’Twas not for him, whose soul was cast In the bright mould of ages past, Whose melancholy spirit, fed With all the glories of the dead, Though framed for Iran’s happiest years, Was born among her chains and tears!— ’Twas not for him to swell the crowd Of slavish heads, that shrinking bowed Before the Moslem, as he passed, Like shrubs beneath the poison-blast— No—far he fled—indignant fled The pageant of his country’s shame; While every tear her children shed Fell on his soul like drops of flame; And, as a lover hails the dawn Of a first smile, so welcomed he a This rivulet, says Dandini, is called the Holy River from the “ ceda/ faints” among which it rises. In the Leitres Edifiantes, there is a different cause assigned for its name of Holy. “ In these are deep caverns, which formerly served as so many cells fc1’ a great number of recluses, who had chosen these retreats as the only witnesses upon earth of the severity of their penance. The tears of these pious pern* tents gave the river of whicn we have just treated the name of the Holy River/a ♦—See Chateaubriand'*s Beauties of Christianity.THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 219 The sparkle of the first sword drawn For vengeance and for liberty f But vam was valour—vain the flower Of Kerman, in that deathful hour, Against Al Hassan’s whelming power. In vain they met him, helm to helm, Upon the threshold of that realm He came in bigot pomp to sway, And with their corpses blocked his way—* In vain—for every lance they raised, Thousands around the conqueror blazed; For every arm that lined their shore, Myriads of slaves were wafted o’er,— A bloody, bold, and countless crowd, Before whose swarm as fast they bowed As dates beneath the locust cloud. There stood—but one short league away From old Harmozia’s sultry bay— A rocky mountain, o’er the Sea Of Oman beetling awfully;8 a This mountain is my own creation, as the “ stupendous chain’7 of which I suppose it a link, does not extend quite so far as the shores of the Persian Gulf. “ This long and lofty range of mountains formerly divided Media from Assyiia, and now forms the boundary of the Persian and Turkish empires. It runs parallel with the River Tigris and Persian Gulf, and almost disappearing in the vicinity of Gomberoon, (Harmozia,) seems once more to rise in the220 LALLA ROOKH. A last and solitary link Of those stupendous chains that reach From the broad Caspian’s reedy brink Down winding to the Green Sea beach. Around its base the bare rocks stood, * Like naked giants, in the flood, As if to guard the Gulf across; While, on its peak, that braved the sky, A ruined Temple towered, so high That oft the sleeping albatross3 Struck the wild ruins with her wing, And from her cloud-rocked slumbering Started—to find man’s dwelling there In her own silent fields of air! Beneath, terrific caverns gave Dark welcome to each stormy wave That dashed, like midnight revellers, in;— And such the strange, mysterious din At times throughout those caverns rolled,— And such the fearful wonders told, Of restless sprites imprisoned there, That bold were Moslem, who would dare, southern districts of Kerman, and following an easterly course through the centre of Meckraun and Balouchistan, is entirely lost in the deserts of Sinde.”—Kin- nier’s Persian Empire. ? These birds sleep in the air. They are most common about the Cape of Good Hope,THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 22 i At twilight hour, to steer his skiff Beneath the Gheber’s lonely cliff.a On the land side, whose towers sublime, That seemed above the grasp of Time, Were severed from the haunts of men By a wide, deep, and wizard glen, So fathomless, so full of gloom, No eye could pierce the void between: It seemed a place where Gholes might come With their foul banquets from the tomb, And in its caverns feed unseen. Like distant thunder, from below, The sound of many torrents came, Too deep for eye or ear to know If ’ twere the sea’s imprisoned flow, Or floods of ever-restless flame. For, each ravine, each rocky spire Of that vast mountain stood on fire ;b And, though for ever past the days When God was worshipped in the blaze a There is an extraordinary hill in this neighbourhood, called Kone Guhj, or the Guebre’s mountain. It rises in the form of a lofty cupola, and on the summit of it, they say, are the remains of an Atush Kudu or Fire Temple. It is superstitiously held to be the residence of Doeves or Sprites, and many marvellous stories are recounted of the injury and witchcraft suffered by those who essayed in former days to ascend or explore it.”—Pottingers Beloochistan. *° The Ghebers generally build their temples over subterraneous fires. T 2222 LALLA ROOKH. That from its lofty altar shone,— Though fled the priests, the votaries gone, Still did the mighty flame burn on,a Through chance and change, through good and ill, Like its own God’s eternal will, Deep, constant, bright, unquenchable! Thither the vanquished Hafed led His little army’s last remains ;— “ Welcome, terrific glen !” he said ; “Thy gloom, that Eblis’ self might dread, “Is Heaven to him who flies from chains!” O’er a dark, narrow bridge-way, known To him and to his Chiefs alone, They crossed the chasm and gained the towers,— “ This home,” he cried, “ at least is ours ;— “ Here we may bleed, unmocked by hymns “ Of Moslem triumph o’er our head ; “ Here we may fall, nor leave our limbs “To quiver to the Moslem’s tread. u “At the city of Yezd, in Persia, which is distinguished by the appellation of the Darub Abadut, or Seat of Religion, the Guebres are permitted to have an A tush Kudu or Fire Temple (which, they assert, has had the sacred fire in it since the days of Zoroaster) in their own compartment of the city; but for this indulgence they are indebted to the avarice, not the tolerance of the Persian government, which taxes them at twenty-five rupees each man.”—Pottn^ePs Beloochistan.THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 223 u Stretclied on this rock, while vultures’ beaks “ Are whetted on our yet warm cheeks, “ Here—happy that no tyrant’s eye “ Gloats on our torments—we may die !”— ’Twas night when to those towers they came, And gloomily the fitful flame, That from the ruined altar broke, Glared on his features, as he spoke :— “ ’Tis o’er—what men could do, we’ve done “If Iran will look tamely on, “And see her priests, her warriors driven “Before a sensual bigot’s nod, “A wretch who shrines his lusts in heaven, “And makes a pander of his God; “If her proud sons, her high-born souls, “Men, in whose veins—0 last disgrace!— “The blood of Zal and Rustama rolls,— “ If they will court this upstart race, “And turn from Mithra’s ancient ray, “To kneel at shrines of yesterday; “If they will crouch to Iran’s foes, “ Why, let them—till the land’s despair “ Cries out to Heaven, and bondage grows “Too vile for ev’n the vile to bear! a Ancient heroes of Persia. “Among the Guebres there are son*e, who boast their descent from Rustam.”—Stephens's Persia.LALLA ROOKH, 224 “ Till shame at last, long hidden, burns “ Their inmost core, and conscience turns “Each coward tear the slave lets fall “Back on his heart in drops of gall, “But here, at least, are arms unchained, “ And souls that thraldom never stained !— “ This spot, at least, no foot of slave “ Or satrap ever yet profaned; “ And though but few—though fast the wave “ Of life is ebbing from our veins, “ Enough for vengeance still remains. “ As panthers, after set of sun, “ Rush from the roots of Lebanon “Across the dark-sea robber’s way,a “ We’ll bound upon our startled prey; “ And when some hearts that proudest swell “ Have felt our falchion’s last farewell; “ When Hope’s expiring throb is o’er, “ And ev’n Despair can prompt no more, “ This spot shall be the sacred grave “ Of the last few who, vainly brave, “ Die for the land they cannot save!” His Chiefs stood round—each shining blade Upon the broken altar laid— a See Russel’s account of the panther’s attacking trave lers in the Dight on the sea-shore about the roots of Lebanon.THE FIRE-WORSHlPPEilS. 225 And though so wild and desolate Those courts, where once the Mighty sate Nor longer on those mouldering towers Was seen the feast of fruits and flowers, With which of old the Magi fed The wandering Spirits of their Dead ;a Though neither priest nor rites were there, Nor charmed leaf of pure pomegranate ;b Nor hymn, nor censer’s fragrant air, Nor symbol of their worshipped planet ;c Yet the same God that heard their sires Heard them, while on that altar’s fires They swored the latest, holiest deed Of the few hearts, still left to bleed, Should be, in Iran’s injured name, To die upon that Mount of Flame— a “Among other ceremonies, the Magi used to place upon the tops of high towers various kinds of rich viands, upon which it was supposed the Peris and the spirits of their departed heroes regaled themselves.’’—Richardson. b In the ceremonies of the Ghebers round their Fire, as described by Lord, “the Daroo,” he says, “giveth them water to drink, and a pomegranate leaf to chew in the mouth, to cleanse them from inward uncleanness.” c “Early in the morning, they (the Parsees or Ghebers at Oulam) go in crowds to pay their devotions to the Sun, to whom upon all the altars there are spheres consecrated, made by magic, resembling the circles of the sun, and when the sun rises, these orbs seem to be inflamed, and to turn round with a great noise. They have every one a censer in their hands, and offer incense to the sun.”—Rabbi Benjamin. d “Nul d’entre eux oseroit se parjurer, quand il a pris a temoin cet element terrible et vengeur.”—Encyclopedic Frangoise.226 L A L L A ROOKIL The last of all her patriot line, Before her last untrampled Shrine! Brave, suffering souls! they little knew How many a tear their injuries drew From one meek maid, one gentle foe, Whom love first touched with others’ woe—- Whose life, as free from thought as sin, Slept like a lake, till Love threw in His talisman, and woke the tide, And spread its trembling circles wide. Once, Emir! thy unheeding child, Mid all this havoc, bloomed and smiled,— Tranquil as on some battle-plain The Persian lily shines and towers,a Before the combat’s reddening stain Hath fallen upon her golden flowers. Light-hearted maid, unawed, unmoved, While Heaven but spared the sire she loved, Once at thy evening tales of blood Unlistening and aloof she stood- And oft, when thou hast paced along Thy Haram halls with furious heat. a “A vivid verdure succeeds the autumnal rains, and the ploughed fields nre covered with the Persian lily, of a resplendent yellow colour.”—RussePi Aleppo.THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 227 Hast thou not cursed her cheerful song, That came across thee, calm and sweet, Like lutes of angels, touched so near Hell’s confines, that the damned can hear! Far other feelings Love hath brought— Her soul all flame, her brow all sadness, She now has but the one dear thought, And thinks that o’er, almost to madness! Oft doth her sinking heart recall His words—“for my sake weep for all;’7 And bitterly, as day on day Of rebel carnage fast succeeds, She weeps a lover snatched away In every Gheber wretch that bleeds. There’s not a sabre meets her eye, But wdth his life-blood seems to swim; There’s not an arrow wings the sky, But fancy turns its point to him. No more she brings with footsteps light Al Hassan’s falchion for the fight; And—Lad he looked with clearer sight, Had not the mists, that ever rise From a foul spirit, dimmed his eyes— He w’ould have marked her shuddering frame When from the field of blood he came,L A L L A R 0 O K H, 22$ The faltering speech—the look estranged— Voice, step, and life, and beauty changed— He would have marked all this, and known Such change is wrought by Love alone. Ah! not the Love that should have blessed So young, so innocent a breast; Not the pure, open, prosperous Love, That, pledged on earth and sealed above, Grows in the world’s approving eyes, In friendship’s smiles and home’s caress, Collecting all the heart’s sweet ties Into one knot of happiness! No, Hinda, no,—thy fatal flame Is nursed in silence, sorrow, shame;— A passion, without hope or pleasure, In thy soul’s darkness buried deep, It lies, like some ill-gotten treasure,— Some idol, without shrine or name, O’er which its pale-eyed votaries keep Unholy watch, while others sleep. Seven nights have darkened Oman’s Sea* Since last, beneath the moonlight ray, She saw his light oar rapidly Hurry her Gheber’s bark away,— * And watch, and look along the deep Fot him whose smiles first made her weepTHE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 22S And still she goes, at midnight hour, To weep alone in that high bower, And watch, and look along the deep For him wl Dse smiles first made her weep ;—- But watching, weeping, all wras vain; She never saw his bark again. The owlet’s solitary cry, The night-hawk, flitting darkly by, And oft the hateful carrion bird, Heavily flapping his clogged wing, Which reeked with that day’s banqueting— Was all she saw, was all she heard. ’Tis the eighth morn—Al Hassan’s brow Is brightened with unusual joy— What mighty mischief glads him now, Who never smiles but to destroy ? The sparkle upon Herkend’s Sea, When tossed at midnight furiously,a Tells not of wreck and ruin nigh, More surely than that smiling eye! “ Up, daughter, up—the Kerna’s13 breath % “Has blown a blast would waken death, a “It is observed, with respect to the Sea of Herkend, that when it is tosseu by tempestuous winds, it sparkles like fire.”—Travels of Two Mohammedans. b A kind of trumpet;—it “ was that used by Tamerlane, the sound of which is described as uncommonly dreadful, and so loud as to be heard at the distance of several miles.”—Richardson. U230 LALLA ROOKH. “ And yet thou sleep’st—up, child, and see “This blessed day for Heaven and me, “A day more rich in Pagan blood “ Than ever flashed o’er Oman’s flood. “Before another dawn shall shine, “ His head—heart—limbs will all be mine ; “ This very night his blood shall steep “ These hands all over ere I sleep !”— “His blood!” she faintly screamed—her mind Still sin£lin£ one from all mankind.— “Yes—spite of his ravines and towers, “Hafed, my child, this night is ours. “Thanks to all-conquering treachery, “ Without whose aid the links accursed “That bind these impious slaves, would be “ Too strong for Alla’s self to burst! “ That rebel fiend, whose blade has spread “My path with piles of Moslem dead, “ Whose baffling spells had almost driven “Back from their course the Swords of Heaven, “This night, with all his band, shall know “How deep an Arab’s steel can go, “When God and Vengeance speed the blow. “ And—Prophet! by that holy wreathTHE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 232 “ Thou wor’st on Ohod’s field of death,a “ I swear, for every sob that parts “ In anguish from these heathen hearts, “ A gem from Persia’s plundered mines “ Shall glitter on thy Shrine of Shrines. “ But, ha!—she sinks—that look so wild— “ Those livid lips—my child, my child, “ This life of blood befits not thee, “ And thou must back to Araby. “ Ne’er had I risked thy timid sex “In scenes that man himself might dread, “Had I not hoped our every tread “Would be on prostrate Persian necks— “ Cursed race, they offer swords instead! “But cheer thee, maid,—the wind that now “ Is blowing o’er thy feverish brow, “To-day shall waft thee from the shore ; “And, e’er a drop of this night’s gore “Have time to chill in yonder towers, “ Thou’lt see thy own sweet Arab bowers!” His bloody boast was all too true; There lurked one wretch among the few a “ Mohammed had two helmets, an interior and extenor one; the lattes oi which, called A1 Mawashah, the fillet, wreath, or wreathed garland, he wore a> the battle q ' Ohod.”—-Universal History.232 LALLA ROOKH. Whom Hafed’s eagle eye could count Around him on that Fiery Mount,— One miscreant, who for gold betrayed The pathway through the valley’s shade To those high towers, where Freedom stood In her last hold of flame and blood. Left on the field last dreadful night, When, sallying from their Sacred height, The Ghebers fought hope’s farewell fight, He lay—but died not with the brave; That sun, which should have gilt his grave, Saw him a traitor and a slave;— And, while the few, who thence returned To their high rocky fortress, mourned For him among the matchless dead They left behind on glory’s bed, He lived, and, in the face of morn, Laughed them and Faith and Heaven to scorn, O for a tongue to curse the slave, Whose treason, like a deadly blight, Comes o’er the councils of the brave, And blasts them in their hour of might! May Life’s unblessed cup for him Be drugged with treacheries to the brim,—THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 233 With hopes, that but allure to fly, With joys, that vanish while he sips, Like Dead -Sea fruits, that tempt the eye. But turn to ashes on the lips!a His country’s curse, his children’s shame^ Outcast of virtue, peace, and fame, May he, at last, with lips of flame On the parched desert thirsting die,—* While lakes, that shone in mockery nigh,b Are fading off, untouched, untasted, Like the once glorious hopes he blasted’ a “They say that tnerc aie apple-trees upon the sides of this sea, wnich bear very lovely fruit, but within are all full of ashes." '—Thevenot. The same is asserted of the oranges there; v. 1Vitman's Travels in Asiatic Turkey. “The Asphalt Lake, known by the name of the Dead Sea, is very remark- able on account of the considerable proportion of «alt which it contains. In this respect it surpasses every other known water on the surface of the earth. This great proportion of bitter-tasted salts is the reason why neither animal nor plant can live in this water. Klaproth's Chemical Analysis of the Water of the Dead Sea, Annals of Philosophy, January, 1813. Hasselquist, however doubts the truth of this last assertion, as there are shell-fish to be found in the lake. Lord Byron has a similar allusion to the fruits of the Dead Sea, in that wonderful display of genius, his third Canto of Childe Harold,—magnificent beyond any thing, perhaps, that even he has ever written. b “The Suhrab or Water of the Desert is said to be caused by the rarefaction ot the atmosphere from extreme heat; and, which augments the delusion, it is most frequent in hollows, where water might be expected to lodge. I have seen bushes and trees reflected in it, with as much accuracy as though it had been the face of a clear and still lake.”—Pot linger. “As to the unbelievers, their works are like a vapour in a plain, which the thirsty traveller thinketh to be water, until when he cometh thereto he findetL it to be nothing.”—Koran, chap. 24. r 2234 L ALLA RQ OKB. And, when from earth his spirit fiies. Just Prophet, let the damned-one dwell Tull in the sight of Paradise, Beh dding heaven, and feeling he&3LALLA ROOKH. 235 Lalla Rookh had, the night before, been visited by a dream, which, in spite of the impending fate of poor Hafed, made her heart more than usually cheerful during the morning, and gave her cheeks all the freshened animation of a flower that the Bid-musk has just passed over.a She fancied that she was sailing on that Eastern Ocean, where the sea-gipsies, who live for ever on the water,b enjoy a perpetual summer in wandering from isle to isle, when she saw a small gilded bark approaching her. It was like one of those boats wThich the Maldivian islanders send adrifr, a “A wind which prevails in February, called Bidmusk, from a small and odoriferous flower of that name.”—“ The wind which blows these flowers com- monly lasts till the end of the month.”—Le JBruyn, h « The Biajus are of two races; the one is settled on Borneo, and are a rude but warlike and industrious nation, who reckon themselves the original possessors of the island of Borneo. The other is a species of sea-gipsies or itinerant fisher- men, who live in small covered boats, and enjoy a perpetual summer on the eastern ocean, shifting to leeward from island to island, with the variations of the monsoon. In some of their customs this singular race resemble the natives of the Maldivia islands. The Maldivians annually launch a small bark, loaded with perfumes, gums, flowers, and odoriferous wood, and turn it adrift at the mercy of winds and waves, as an offering to the Spirit of the Winds; and some- times similar offerings are made to the spirit whom they term the King of the Sea, In like manner the Biajus perform their offering to the god of evil, 'aunching a small bark, loaded with all the sins and misfortunes of the nation, which are imagined to fall on the unhappy crew that may be so unlucky as first to meet with it.”—Dr, Leyden on the Languages and Literature of the Indo Chinese Nations,236 L A L L A ROOKH. at the mercy of winds and waves, loaded with perfumes, (lowers, and odoriferous wood, as an offering to the Spirit whom they call King of the Sea. At first, this little bark appeared to be empty, but, on coming nearer--------- She had proceeded thus far in relating the dream to her Ladies, when Feramorz appeared at the door of the pavilion. In his presence, of course, every thing else was forgotten, and the continuance of the story was instantly requested by all. Fresh wood of aloes was set to burn in the cassolets;— the violet sherbetsa were hastily handed round, and after a short prelude on his lute, in the pathetic measure of Nava,b which is always used to express the lameniauons of absent lovers, the Poet thus continued :— a “ The sweet-scented violet is one of the plants most esteemed, particularly for its great use in Sorbet, which they make of violet sugar.”—Ilassclqvist. “The sherbet they most esteem, and which is drank by the Grand Signior himself, is made of violets and sugar.”—Tavernier, b “Last of all she took a guitar, and sung a pathetic air in the measure called Nava, which is always used to express the kmentrtmns of absent lovers.” —Persian Talcs.THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 237 The day is lowering—stilly black Sleeps the grim wave, while heaven’s rack. Dispersed and wild, ’twixt earth and sky Hangs like a shattered canopy. There’s not a cloud in that blue plain But tells of storm to come or past;—• Here, flying loosely as the mane Of a young war-horse in the blast;— There rolled in masses dark and swelling, As proud to be the thunder’s dwelling! While some, already burst and riven, Seem melting down the verge of heaven; As though the infant storm had rent The mighty womb that gave him birth. And, having swept the firmament, Was now in fierce career for earth. On earth ’twas yet all calm around, A pulseless silence, dread, profound, More awful than the tempest’s sound. The diver steered for Ormus’ bowers, And moored his skiff till calmer hours;238 LALLA R 0 0 K H. The sea-birds, with portentous screech, Flew fast to land;—upon the beech The pilot oft had paused, with glance Turned upward to that wild expanse:— And all was boding, drear, and dark As her own soul, when Hinda’s bark Went slowly from the Persian shore.— No music timed her parting oar,a Nor friends upon the lessening strand Lingered, to wave the unseen hand, Or speak the farewell, heard no more;— But lone, unheeded, from the bay The vessel takes its mournful way, Like some ill-destined bark that steers In silence through the Gate of Tears.b And where was stern Al Hassan then ? Could not that saintly scourge of men From bloodshed and devotion spare One minute for a farewell there ? a “ The Easterns used to set out on their longer voyages with music.”— JIarmer. b “The Gate of Tears, the straits or passage into the Red Sea, commonly called Babelmandel. It received this name from the old Arabians, on account of the danger of the navigation, and the number of shipwrecks by which it was distinguished; which induced them to consider as dead, and to wear mourning for all who had the boldness to hazard the passage through it into the Ethiopic ocean.”—Richardson.THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 239 No—close within, in changeful fits Of cursing and of prayer, he sits In savage loneliness to biood Upon the coming night of blood,— With that keen, second scent of death By which the vulture snuffs his food In the still warm and living breath!a While o’er the wTave his weeping daughter Is wafted from these scenes of slaughter,— As a young bird of Babylon,13 Let loose to tell of victory won, Flies home, with wing, ah! not unstained By the red hands that held her chained. And does the long-left home she seeks Lignt up no gladness on her cheeks? The flowers she nursed—the well-known groves, Where oft in dreams her spirit roves— Once more to see her dear gazelles Come bounding with their silver bells; Her birds’ newT plumage to behold, And the gay, gleaming fishes count, a 41 have been told that whensoever an animal falls down dead, one or more vultures, unseen before, instantly appear.”—Pennant. b 44 They fasten some writing to the wings of a Bagdat, or Bat ylonian pigeon.”—Travels of certain Englishmen,240 L A L L A ROOKH. She left, all filleted with gold, Shooting around their jasper fount ;a Her little garden mosque to see, And once again, at evening hour, To tell her ruby rosary ,b In her own sweet acacia bower,— Can these delights that wait her now, Call up no sunshine on her brow ? No,—silent, from her train apart,— As if ev’n now she felt at heart The chill of her approaching doom,— She sits, all lovely in her gloom As a pale Angel of the Grave; And o’er the wide, tempestuous wave, Looks, with a shudder, to those towers, Where, in a few short awful hours, Blood, blood, in streaming tides shall run, Foul incense for to-morrow’s sun ! u Where art thou, glorious stranger ! thou, “ So loved, so lost, where art thou now ? “ Foe—Gheber—infidel—whate’er “ Th’ unhallowed name thou’rt doomed to bear, a “The Empress of Jeham-Guire used to divert herself with feeding tame fish in her canals, some of which were many years afterwards known by fillets of gold, which she caused to be put round them.”—Harris. b “ Le Tespih, qui est un chapelet, compose de 99 petites boules d’agathe, de jaspe, d'amhre, de corail, ou d’autre matiere precieuse. J’en ai vu un superbe au Seigneur Jerpos; il etoit de belles et grosses perles parfaites et egales, estime trente mille piastres.”—Toderim.THE F'l RE -WORSHIPPERS. U41 “ Still glorious—still to this fond heart “Dear as its blood, whatever thou art! “Yes—Alla, dreadful Alla ! yes— “If there be wrong, be crime in this, “ Let the black waves that round us roll. “Whelm me this instant, ere my soul, “Forgetting faith—home—father—all—- “Before its earthly idol fall, “Nor worship ev’n Thyself above him—* “For, 0, so wildly do I love him, “Thy Paradise itself were dim “And joyless, if not shared with him !?> Her hands were clasped—Her eyes upturnedf Dropping their tears like moonlight rain; And, though her lip, fond raver! burned With words of passion, bold, profane, Yet was there light around her brow, A holiness in those dark eyes, Which showed,—though wandering earthward now,— Her spirit’s home was in the skies Yes—for a spirit pure as hers Is always pure, ev’n while it errs; As sunshine, broken in the rill, Though turned astray, is sunshine still! x242 LALLA ROOKH. So wholly had her mind forgot All thoughts but one, she heeded not The rising storm—the wave that cast A moment’s midnight, as it passed— Nor heard the frequent shout, the tread Of gathering tumult o’er her head— Clashed swords, and tongues that seemeu to vie With the rude riot of the sky. But, hark!—that war-whoop on the deck— That crash, as if each engine there, Mast, sails, and all, were gone to wreck, Mid yells and stampings of despair! Merciful Heaven ! what can it be ? ’Tis not the storm, though fearfully The ship has shuddered as she rode O’er mountain-waves.—“ Forgive me, God! “ Forgive me”—shrieked the maid, and knelt Trembling all over—for she felt As if her judgment-hour was near; While crouching round, half dead with fear, Her handmaids clung, nor breathed, nor stirred— When, hark !—a second crash—a third— And now, as if a bolt of thunder Had riven the labouring planks asunder, The deck falls in—what horrors then ! Blood, waves, and tackle, swords and menTHE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 243 Come mixed together through the chasm,— Some wretches in their dying spasm Still fm-htinsr on—and some that call O O “ For God and Iran !” as they fall! Whose was the hand that turned away The perils of th’ infuriate fray And snatched her breathless from beneath This wilderment of wreck and death ? She knew not—for a faintness came Chill o’er her, and her sinking frame Amid the ruins of that hour Lay, like a pale and scorched flower, Beneath the red volcano’s shower. But, 0 ! the sights and sounds of dread That shocked her ere her senses fled! The yawning deck—the crowd that strove Upon the tottering planks above— The sail, whose fragments, shivering o’er The smugglers’ heads, all dashed with gore Fluttered like bloody flags—the clash Of sabres, and the lightning’s flash Upon their blades, high tossed about Like meteor brandsn—as if throughout The elements one fury ran, a The meteors that Pliny calls “ faces.”244 LALLA ROOKH, One general rage, that left a doubt Which was the fiercer, Heaven or Man! Once too—but no—it could not be— ’Twas fancy all—yet once she thought, While yet her fading eyes could see, High on the ruined deck she caught A glimpse of that unearthly form, That glory of her soul,—ev’n then, Amid the whirl of wreck and storm, Shining above his fellow-men, As, on some black and troublous night, The star of Egypt,a whose proud light Never hath beamed on those who rest In the White Islands of the West,b Burns through the storm with looks of flame That put Heaven’s cloudier eyes to shame. But no—’twas but the minute’s dream— A fantasy—and ere the scream Had half-way passed her pallid lips, A deathlike swoon, a chill eclipse Of soul and sense its darkness spread Around her, and she sunk, as dead. a »The brilliant Canopus, unseen in European climates.”—Broum, ^ f$ee Wilford’s learned Essays on the Sacred Isles in the West.5r »*• THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 245 How calm, how beautiful comes on The stilly hour, when storms are gone; When warring winds have died away, And clouds, beneath the glancing ray, Melt off, and leave the land and sea Sleeping in bright tranquillity,— Fresh as if Day again were born, Again upon the lap of Morn! When the light blossoms, rudely tom And scattered at the whirlwind’s will, Hang floating in the pure air still, Filling it all with precious balm, In gratitude for this sweet calm;— And every drop the thunder-showers Have left upon the grass and flowers Sparkles, as ’twere that lightning-gema Whose liquid flame is born of them! When, ’stead of one unchanging breeze, There blow a thousand gentle airs, And each a different perfume bears,— As if the loveliest plants and trees Had vassal breezes of their own To watch and wTait on them alone, And wTaft no other breath than theirs: z A precious stone of the Indies, called by the ancients Ceraunium, because was supposed to be found in places where thunder had fallen. Tertullian e*ys it has a glittering appearance, as if there had been fire in it; and the autnor of the Dissertation in Harris’s Voyages supposes it to be the opai. x '-i246 LALLA ROCKH. When the blue waters rise and fall. In sleepy sunshine mantling all; And ev’n that swell the tempest leaves Is like the full and silent heaves Of lovers’ hearts, when newly blessed, Too newly to be quite at rest. Such was the golden hour that broke Upon the world, when Hinda woke From her long trance, and heard around No motion but the water’s sound Rippling against the vessel’s side, As slow it mounted o’er the tide.— But where is she ?—her eyes are dark. Are wildered still—is this the bark, The same, that from Harmozia’s bay Bore her at morn—whose bloody way The sea-dog tracked?—no—strange and new Is all that meets her wondering view. Upon a galliot’s deck she lies, Beneath no rich pavilion’s shade,— No plumes to fan her sleeping eyes, Nor jasmine on her pillow laid. But the rude litter, roughly spread With war-cloaks, is her homely bed, And shawl and sash, on javelins hung. For awning o’er her head are flung.THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 241 Shuddering she looked around—there lay A group of warriors in the sun, Resting their limbs, as for that day Their ministry of death were done. Some gazing on the drowsy sea, Lost in unconscious reverie; And some, who seemed but ill to brook That sluggish calm, with many a look To the slack sail impatient cast, As loose it flagged around the mast. Blessed Alla ! who shall save her now? There’s not in all that warrior band One Arab sword, one turbaned brow From her own Faithful Moslem land. Their garb—the leathern belta that wraps Each yellow vestb—that rebel hue— The Tartar fleece upon their caps0— Yes—yes—her fears are all too true, And Heaven hath, in this dreadful hour, Abandoned her to Hafed’s power;— Hafed, the Gheber!—at the thought Her very heart’s blood chills within; a D'Herbelot, art. Agduani. b “ The Guebres are known by a dark yellow colour, which the men affecl in their clothes.”—Thevenot. c “The Kolah, or cap, worn by the Persians, is made of the skin of thesheef of Tartary.”—Waring.348 LALLA ROOKH, He, whom her soul was hourly taught To loathe, as some foul fiend of sin. Some minister, whom Hell had sent To spread its blast, where’er he went, And fling, as o’er our earth he trod, His shadow betwixt man and God! And she is now his captive,—thrown In his fierce hands, alive, alone; His the infuriate band she sees, All infidels—all enemies ! What was the daring hope that then Crossed her like lightning, as again, With boldness that despair had lent, She darted through that armed crowd A look so searching, so intent, That ev’n the sternest warrior bowed Abashed, when he her glances caught, As if he guessed whose form they sought! But no—she sees him not—’tis gone, The vision that before her shone Through all the maze of blood and storm. Is fled—’twas but a phantom form— One of those passing, rainbow dreams, Half light, half shade, which Fancy’s beams Paint on the fleeting mists that roll In trance or slumber round the soul.THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 249 But now the bark, with livelier bound, Scales the blue wave—the crew’s in motion, The oars are out, and with light sound Break the bright mirror of the ocean. Scattering its brilliant fragments round. o o And now she sees—with horror sees, Their course is toward that mountain-hold,— Those towers, that make her life-blood freeze, Where Mecca’s god. ess enemies Lie, like beleaguered scorpions, rolled In their last deadly, venomous fold! Amid th’ illumined land and flood Sunless that mighty mountain stood; Save where, above its awful head, There shone a flaming cloud, blood-red, As ’twere the flag of destinv Hung out to mark where death would be1 Had her bewildered mind the power Of thought in this terrific hour, She well might marvel where or how Man’s foot could scale that mountain’s brow, Since ne’er had Arab heard or known Of path but through the glen alone.— But every thought was lost in fear, When, as their bounding bark drew near250 LALLA ROOKH, The craggy base, she fe.. the waves Hurry them toward those dismal caves That from the Deep in windings pass Beneath that Mount’s volcanic mass ;— And loud a voice on deck commands To lower the mast and light the brands !- Instantly o’er the dashing tide Within a cavern’s mouth they glide, Gloomy as that eternal Porch Through which departed spirits go;— Not ev’n the flare of brand and torch Its flickering light could further throw Than the thick flood that boiled below. Silent they floated—as if each Sat breathless, and too awed for speech In that dark chasm, where even sound Seemed dark,—so sullenly around The goblin echoes of the cave Muttered it o’er the long black wave As ’twere some secret of the grave! ■> But soft—they pause—the current turns Beneath them from its onward track= Some mighty, unseen barrier spurns The vexed tide, all foaming, back, And scarce the oars’ redoubled force Can stem the eddy’s whirling course;THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 2d I When, hark1—some desperate foot has sprung Among the rocks—the chain is flung— The oars are up—-the grapple clings, And the tossed bark in moorings swings. Just then, a daybeam through the shade Broke tremulous—but, ere the maid Can see from whence the brightness steals, Upon her brow she shuddering feels A viewless hand, that promptly ties A bandage round her burning eyes; While the rude litter where she lies, Uplifted by the warrior throng, O’er the steep rocks is borne along. Blest power of sunshine!—genial Day, What balm, what life is in thy ray! To feel thee is such real bliss, That had the world no joy but this, To sit in sunshine calm and sweet,— It were a world too exquisite For man to leave it for the gloom, The deep, cold shadow of the tomb. Ev’n Hinda, though she saw not where Or whither wound the perilous road, Yet knew by that awakening air, Which suddenly around her glowed,That they had risen from darkness then, And breathed the sunny world again. But soon this balmy freshness fled— For now the steepy labyrinth ed Through damp and gloom—mid crash of boughs And fall of loosened crags, that rouse The leopard from his hungry sleep, Who, starting, thinks each crag a prey, And long is heard, from steep to steep, Chasing them down their thundering way! The jackal’s cry—the distant moan Of the hyena, fierce and lone— And that eternal saddening sound Of torrents in the glen beneath, As ’twere the ever-dark Profound That rolls beneath the Bridge of Death! All, all is fearful—ev’n to see, To gnze on those terrific thing's O o She now but blindly hears, would be Relief to her imaginings; Since never yet was shape so dread, But Fancy, thus in darkness thrown, And by such sounds of horror fed, Could frame more dreadful ot her own,THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 2G3 But does she dream ? has Fear a£»ain Perplexed the workings of her brain, Or did a voice, all music, then Come from the gloom, low whispering near— “ Tremble not, love, thy Gheber’s here?” She does not dream—all sense, all ear, She drinks the words, “Thy Gheber’s here.’7 ’Twas his own voice—she could not err— Throughout the breathing world’s extent Theie was but one such voice for her, So kind, so soft, so eloquent! O, sooner shall the rose of May Mistake her own sweet nightingale, And to some meaner minstrel’s lay Open her bosom’s glowing veil,a Than Love shall ever doubt a tone, A breath of the beloved one! Though blessed, mid all her ills, to think She has that one beloved near, Whose smile, though met on ruin’s brink, Hath power to make ev’n ruin dear,— Yet soon this gleam of rapture, crossed By fears for him, is chilled and lost. > a A frequent image among the Oriental poets. “ The nigntingales warbled their enchanting notes, and rent the thin veils of the rose-bud and the rose/’—« Jami, v254 LALLA RUOKH. How shall the ruthless Hafed brook That one of Gheber blood should look, With aught but curses in his eye, On her—a maid of Araby— A Moslem maid—the child of him, Whose bloody banner’s dire success Hath left their altars cold and dim, And their fair land a wilderness! And, worse than all, that night of blood Which comes so fast—0! who shall stay The sword, that once hath tasted food Of Persian hearts, or turn its way ? What arm shall then the victim cover, Or from her lather shield her lover ? “ Save him, my God !” she inly cries— “ Save him this night—and if thine eyes “ Have ever welcomed with delight “The sinner’s tears, the sacrifice “ Of sinners’ hearts—guard him this night, “And here, before thy throne, I swear “ From my heart’s inmost core to tear “ Love, hope, remembrance, though they be “ Linked with each quivering life-string there, “ And give it bleeding all to Thee ! “Let him but live,—the burning tear, “ The sighs, so sinful, yet so dear,THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 1S5 WtJf’ “ Which have been all too much his own, “ Shall from this hour be Heaven's alone. “Youth passed in penitence, and age “In long and painful pilgrimage, “ Shall leave no traces of the dame “ That wastes me now—nor shall his name “ E’er bless my lips, but when I pray “ For his dear spirit, that away “ Casting from its angelic ray “ Th’ eclipse of earth, he, too, may shine “Redeemed, all glorious and all Thine! “ Think—think what victory to win “ One radiant soul like his from sin,— “ One wandering star of virtue back “To its own native, heavenward track! “ Let him but live, and both are Thine, “Together thine—for, blessed or crossed, “ Living or dead, his doom is mine, “And, if he perish, both are lost!'*256 L A L L A ROOKH. The next evening Lalla Rookh was entreated by her Ladies to continue the relation of her wonderful dream; but the fearful interest that hung round the fate of Hinda and her lover had completely removed every trace of it from her mind; much to the disappointment of a fair seer or two in her train, who prided themselves on their skill in interpreting visions, and who naa already remarked, as an unlucky omen, that the Princess, on the very morning after the dream, had worn a silk dyed with the blossoms of the sorrowful tree, Nilica.a Fadladeen, whose indignation had more than once broken out during the recital of some parts of this heterodox poem, seemed at length to have made up his mind to the infliction; and took his seat this evening with all the patience of a martyr, while the Poet resumed his profane and seditious story as foflows: a “ Blossoms of the sorrowful Nyctanthes give a durable colour to silk.”— Remarks on the Husbandry of Fengal, p. 200. Nilica is one of the Indian names ot this flower.—Sir IV. Jones. The Persians call it Gull.—Carreri.THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 257 To tearless eyes and hearts at ease The leafy shores and sunbright seas, That lay beneath that mountain’s height, Had been a fair, enchanting sight. ’Twas one of those ambrosial eves A day of storm so often leaves At its calm setting—when the West Opens her golden bowers of rest, /,nd a moist radiance from the skies Shoots trembling down, as from the eyes Of some meek penitent, whose last Bright hours atone for dark ones paA, And whose sweet tears, o’er w’rong forgiven, Shine, as they fall, with light from heaven! ’Twas stillness all—the winds that late Had rushed through Kerman’s almond groves, And shaken from her bowers of date That cooling feast the traveller loves,** a “ In parts of Kerman, 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 tra vellers.”—Ebn Haukal, Y 2258 L A L L A ROOKH. Now, lulled to languor, scarcely curl The Green Sea wave, whose waters glean. Limpid, as if her mines of pearl Were melted all to form the stream; And her fair islets, small and bright, With their green shores reflected there Look like those Peri isles of light, That hang by spell-work in the air. But vainly did those glories burst On Hinda’s dazzled eyes, when first The bandage from her brow was taken, And, pale and awed as those who waken In their dark tombs—when, scowling near, The Searchers of the Gravea appear,— She shuddering turned to read her fate In the fierce eyes that flashed around; And saw those towers all desolate, That o’er her head terrific frowned, As if defying ev’n the smile 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 ear— a The two terrible angels, Monkir and Nakir, who are called “the Searchers of the Grave” in the “ Creed of the orthodox Mahometans” given by Ocklev, vo) ii t* THE F IRE-W ORSIIIPEERS. 259 Strange, mocking dream!—again ’tis fled. And 0, the shoots, the pangs of aread That through her inmost bosom run, When voices from without proclaim “ Hafed, the Chief,”—and, one by one. The warriors shout that fearful name! He comes—the rock resounds his tread—• How shall she dare to lift her head, Or meet those eyes whose scorching glare Not Yemen’s boldest sons can bear? In whose red beam, the Moslem tells, Such rank and deadly lustre dwells, As in those heiiish fires that light The mandrake’s charnel leaves at night.a 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 stretched at evening round the web, They hear the thirsting tiger’s yell ? Breathless she stands, with eyes cast down, Shrinking beneath the fiery frown, * “The Arabians call the mandrake i the Devil s candle, on account of tM shining appearance in the ni«4ht.”—Richardson»260 LALLA ROOKH. Which, fancv 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 enougn—the shriek that broke From her full bosom, told the rest.— Panting with terror, joy, surprise. The maid but lifts her wondering1 eyes, To hide them on her Gheber’s breast! ’Tis he, ’tis he—the man of blood. The fellest of the Fire-fiend’s brood, Hafed, the demon of the fight, Whose voice unnerves, whose glances blight,— Is her own loved Gheber, mild And glorious as when first he smiled In her lone tower, and left such beams Of his pure eye to light her dreams, That she believed her bower had given Rest to some wanderer from heaven! Moments there are, and this was one, Snatched like a minute’s g^eam of sunTHE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 2GI Amid the black Simoom’s eclipse— | Or, like those verdant spots that bloom Around the crater’s burning lips, Sweetening the very edge of doom! The past—the future—all that Fate Han bring of dark or desperate Around such hours, but makes them cast Intenser radiance while they last! # Ev’n he, this youth—though dimmed and gone Each star of Hope that cheered him on— His glories lost—his cause betrayed— Iran, his dear-loved country, made A land of carcasses and slaves, One dreary waste of chains and graves! Himself but lingering, dead at heart, To see the last, long struggling breath Of Libeity’s great soul depart, Then lay him down and share her death—* Ev’n 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, Beaming that blest assurance, worth All other transports known on earth, That he was loved—well, warmly loved— O ! in this precio is hour he proved262 LALLA ROOKH. How deep, how thorough-felt the glow Of rapture, kindling out of woe ;— How exquisite one single drop Of bliss, thus sparkling to the top Of misery’s cup—how keenly quaffed, Though death must follow on the draught! She, too, while gazing on those eyes That sink into her soul so deep, Forgets all fears, all miseries, Or feels them like the wretch in sleep, Whom fancy cheats into a smile, Who dreams of joy, and sobs the while! The mighty Ruins where they stood, Upon the mount’s high, rocky verge, Lay open towards the ocean flood, Where lightly o’er the illumined surge Many a fair bark that, all the day, Had lurked 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,—THE FIRE-WORSIIIPPERS. 203 As if, to grace the gorgeous West, The Spirit of departing Light That eve had left his sunny vest Behind him, ere he winged his flight* Never was scene so formed for love! Beneath them waves of crystal move In silent swell—Heaven glows above, And their pure hearts, to transport given, Swell like the wave, and glow like Heaven. But ah! too soon that dream is past—- Again, again her fear returns ;— Night, dreadful night, is gathering fast, More faintly the horizon burns, And every rosy tint that lay On the smooth sea hath died away. Hastily to the darkening skies A glance she casts—then wildly cries, “At night, he said—and, look, ’tis near— “Fly, fly—if yet thou lov’st me, fly— “ Soon will his murderous band be here, “And I shall see thee bleed and die.— “Hush! heard’st thou not the tramp of men “ Sounding from yonder fearful glen ?— “Perhaps ev’n now they climb the wood— “Fly, fly—though still the West is bright,2G4 L A L L A EOOKH. “ He’ll come—0 ! yes—he wants thy blood—• “ I know him—he’ll not wait for night!” O In terrors ev’n to agony She clings around the wondering Chief;— “ Alas, poor wildered maid ! to me “Thou ow’st this raving trance of grief. “ Lost as I am, naught ever grew “ Beneath my shade but perished too— “My doom is like the Dead Sea air, “And nothing lives that enters there! “ Why were our barks together driven “Beneath this morning’s furious heaven? “ Why, when I saw the prize that chance “Had thrown into my desperate arms,— “ When, casting but a single glance “Upon thy pale and prostrate charms, “ I vowed (though watching viewless o’er “ Thy safety through that hour’s alarms) “ To meet th’ unmanning sight no more— “Why 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 hurled— “Dread nothing here—upon this rock “ We stand above the jarring world.THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 265 k “ Alike beyond its hope—its dread— “ In gloomy safety, like the Dead! “ Or, could ev’n earth and hell unite “ In league to storm this Sacred Height, “Fear nothing thou—myself, to-night. “And each o’erlooking star that dwells “Near God, will be thy sentinels; “And, ere to-morrow’s dawn shall glow, “Back to thy sire---” “ To-morrow!—no— The maiden screamed—“thou’lt never see “ To-morrow’s sun—death, death will be “ The mght-cry through each reeking tower, “ Unless we fly, ay, fly, this hour! “ Thou art betrayed—some wretch who knew “That dreadful glen’s mysterious clew— “Nay, doubt not—by yon stars, ’tis true— “ Hath sold thee to my vengeful sire ; “This morning, with that smile so dire “ He wears in joy, he told me all, “ And stamped in triumph through our hall, “ As though thy heart already beat “ Its last life-throb beneath his feet! ‘ Good Heaven, how little dreamed I then “ His victim was my own loved youth! ‘ Fly —send—let some one watch the glen—■ “ By all my hopes of heaven, ’tis truth!” zL A L L A ROOKH, 266 0! colder than the wind that freezes Founts, that but now in sunshine played. Is that congealing pang which seizes The trusting bosom, when betrayed. He felt it—deeply felt—and stood, As if the tale had frozen his blood, So mazed and motionless was he;— Like one whom sudden spells enchant, Or some mute, marble habitant Of the still Halls of Ishmonie !a But soon the painful chill was o’er, And his great soul, herself once more, Looked from his brow in all the rays Of her best, happiest, grandest days. Never, in moment most elate, Did that high spirit loftier rise ;— While bright, serene, determinate, His looks are lifted to the skies, As if the signal lights of Fate Were shining in those awful eyes! ’Tis come—his hour of martyrdom In Iran's sacred cause is come; 11 For an account of Ishmonie, the petrified city in Upper Ecrypt, where it is said there are many statues of men, women, &c., to be seen to this day, see Perry's View of the jevant.THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 207 And, though his life hath passed away Like lightning on a stormy day, Yet shall his death-hour leave a track Of glory, permanent and bright, To which the brave of after-times, The suffering brave, shall long look back With proud regret,—and by its light Watch through the hours of slavery’s night For vengeance on th’ oppressor’s crimes. This rock, his monument aloft, Shall speak the tale to many an age; And hither bards and heroes oft Shall come in secret pilgrimage, And bring their warrior sons, and tell The wondering boys where Hafed fell; And swear them on those lone remains Of their lost country’s ancient fanes, Never—while breath of life shall live Within them—never to forgive Th’ accursed race, whose ruthless chain Hath left on Iran’s neck a stain Blood, blood alone can cleanse again! Such are the swelling thoughts that now Enthrone themselves on Hafed’s brow;268 LALLA ROOKH. And ne’er did Saint of IssAa gaze On the red wreath, for martyrs twined, More proudly than the youth surveys That pile, which through the gloom behind, Half lighted by the altar’s fire, Glimmers—his destined funeral pyre ! Heaped by his own, his comrades’ hands Of every wood of odorous breath, There, by the Fire-God’s shrine it stands, Ready to fold in radiant death The few still left of those who swore To perish there, when hope was o’er— The few, to whom that couch of flame, Which rescues them from bonds and shame, Is sweet and welcome as the bed For their own infant Prophet spread, When pitying Heaven to roses turned The death-flames that beneath him burned!b a Jesus. b The Ghebers say that when Abraham, their great Prophet, was thrown into the fire by order of Nimrod, the flame turned instantly into “a bed of roses, where the child sweetly reposed.”—Tavernier, Of their other Prophet, Zoroaster, there is a story told in Dion Pruscnts, Orat. 36, that, the love of wisdom and virtue leading him to a solitary life upon a mountain, he found it one day all in a flame, shining with celestial fire, out of which he came without any harm, and instituted certain sacrifices to God, who, he declared, then appeared to him.—v. Patrick on Exodus, iii. 2.THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 269 With watchfulness the maid attends His rapid glance, where’er it bends—• Why shoot his eyes such awful beams ? What plans he now? what thinks or dreams? Alas ! why stands he musing here, When every moment teems with fear ? “ Hafed, my own beloved Lord,” She kneeling cries—“ first, last adored: “If in that soul thou’st ever felt “ Half what thy lips impassioned swore, “ Here, on my knees that never knelt “To any but their God before, “I pray thee, as thou iov’st me, fly— “ Now, now—ere yet their blades are nigh. “ 0 haste—the bark that bore me hither “ Can waft us o’er yon darkening sea “East—west—alas, I care not whither, “ So thou art safe, and I with thee! “ Go where we will, this hand in thine, “ Those eyes before me smiling thus, “Through good and ill, through storm and shine, “ The world’s a world of love for us ! “On some calm, blessed shore we’ll dwell, “ Where ’tis no crime to love too well ;— “Where thus to worship tenderly “ An erring child of light like thee “ Will not be sin—or, if it be, z 2270 LALLA ItOOKH. “ Where we may weep our faults away, “ Together kneeling, night and day, “ Thou, for my sake, at Alla’s shrine, “And I—at any God’s, for thine !” Wildly these passionate words she spoke— Then hung her head, and wept for shame, Sobbing, as if a heartstring broke With every deep-heaved sob that came. While he, young, warm—0 ! wonder not If, for a moment, pride and fame, His oath—his cause—that shrine of flame, And Iran’s self are all forgot For her whom at his feet he sees Kneeling in speechless agonies. No, blame him not, if Hope awhile Dawned in his soul, and threw her smile O’er hours to come—o’er days and nights, Winged with those precious, pure delights Which she, who bends all beauteous there, Was born to kindle and to share. A tear or two, which, as he bowed To raise the suppliant, trembling stole, First warned him of this dangerous cloud Of softness passing o’er his soul. Starting, he brushed the drops away, Unworthy o’er that cheek to stray;—THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 271 Like one who, on the morn of fight, Shakes from his sword the dews of night, That had but dimmed, not stained its light. Yet, though subdued th’ unnerving thrill, Its warmth, its weakness lingered still So touching in each look and tone, That the fond, fearing, hoping maid Half counted on the flight she prayed, Half thought the hero’s soul was grown As soft, as yielding as her own, And smiled and blessed him, while he said— “ Yes—if there be some happier sphere, “ Where fadeless truth like ours is dear,— “ If there be any land of rest “For those who love and ne’er forget, “ 0! comfort thee—for safe and bless’d “We’ll meet in that calm region yet \yy Scarce had she time to ask her heart If good or ill these words impart, When the roused youth impatient flew To tlie tower-wall, where, high in view, A ponderous sea-horna hung, and blew a “The shell called Siiankos, common to India, Africa, and the Mediterranean. *na still used in many parts as a trumpet for blowing alarms or giving signals, it sends forth a deep and hollow sound.—Pennant•LALLA ROOKR, 272 A signal, deep and dread as those The storm-fiend at his rising blows,— Full well his Chieftains, sworn and true Through life and death, that signal knew; For ’twas th’ appointed warning blast, Th’ alarm, to tell when hope was past, And the tremendous death-die cast! And there, upon the mouldering tower, Hath hung this sea-horn many an hour, Ready to sound o’er land and sea That dirge-note of the brave and free. They came—his Chieftains at the call Came slowly round, and with them all— Alas, how few !—the worn remains Of those who late o’er Kerman’s plains Went gayly prancing to the clash Of Moorish zel and tymbalon, Catching new hope from every flash Of their long lances in the sun, And, as their coursers charged the wind, And the white ox-tails streamed behind/ Looking, as if the steeds they rode Were winged, and every Chief a God! a “ The finest ornament for the horses is made of six large flying tassels of Jong white hair, taken out of the tails of wild oxen, that are to be found in some places of the Indies.”—ThcvenoUTHE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 273 How fallen, how altered now! how wan Each scarred and faded visage shone, As round the burning shrine they came ;— How deadly was the glare it cast, As mute they paused before the flame To light their torches as they passed ! ’Twas silence all—the youth hath planned The duties of his soldier-band; And each determined brow declares His faithful Chieftains well know theirs. But minutes speed—night gems the skies— And 0, how soon, ye blessed eyes, That look from heaven, ye may behold, Sights that will turn your star-fires cold! Breathless with awe, impatience, hope, The maiden sees the veteran group Her litter silently prepare, And lay it at her trembling feet;— And now the youth, with gentle care, Hath placed her in the sheltered seat, And pressed her hand—that lingering press Of hands, that for the last time sever; Of hearts, whose pulse of happiness, When that hold breaks, is dead for ever. And yet to her this sad caress Gives hope—so fondly hope can err!271 L A L L A ROOKH. ’Twas joy, she thought, joy’s mute excess— Their happy flight’s dear harbinger; 'Twas warmth—assurance—tenderness— ’Twas any thing but leaving her. “ Haste, haste!” she cried, “the clouds grow dark, “But still, ere night, we’ll reach the bark; “And by to-morrow’s dawn—0 bliss! “With thee upon the sunbright deep, ‘Far off*, I’ll but remember this, “As some dark, vanished dream of sleep ; “And thou------” but ah!—he answers not— Good Heaven!—and does she go alone? She now has reached that dismal spot, Where, some hours since, his voice’s tone Had come to soothe her fears and ills, Sweet as the angel Israfil’s,0, When every leaf on Eden’s tree Is trembling to his minstrelsy— Yet now—0 now, he is not nigh.— “ Hafed ! my Hafed !—if it be “ Thy will, thy doom this night to die, “ Let me but stay to die with thee, “And I will bless thy loved name, “Till the last life-breath leave this frame. “The angel Israfil, who has the most melodious voice of all God’s crea- tures.”—Safe*THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 275 “ 0 ! let our lips, our cheeks be laid “But near each other while they fade; “ Let us but mix our parting breaths, “And I can die ten thousand deaths! “You too, who hurry me away “So cruelly, one moment stay— “ 0 ! stay—one moment is not much— “He yet may come—for him I pray— “ Hafed ! dear Hafed !—” all the way In wild lamentings, that would touch A heart of stone, she shrieked his name To the dark woods—no Hafed came:— No—hapless pair—you’ve looked your last Your hearts should both have broken then: The dream is o’er—your doom is cast— You’ll never meet on earth again! Alas for him, who hears her cries! Still half-way down the steep he stands, Watching with fixed and feverish eyes The glimmer of those burning brands, That down the rocks, with mournful ray, Light all he loves on earth away! Hopeless as they who, far at sea, By the cold moon have just consigned The corse of one, loved tenderly, To the bleak fiood they leave behind;276 L A L L A ROOKH. And on the deck still lingering stay, And long look back, with sad delay, To watch the moonlight on the wave. O j That ripples o’er that cheerless grave. But see—he starts—what heard he then ? That dreadful shout!—across the glen From the land-side, it comes, and loud Rings through the chasm; as if the crowci Of fearful things, that haunt that dell, Its Gholes and Dives and shapes of hell, Had all in one dread howl broke out, So loud, so terrible that shout! “ They come—the Moslems come!”—he cries, H is proud soul mounting to his eyes,— “Now, Spirits of the Brave, who roam “Enfranchised through yon starry dome, “ Rejoice—for souls of kindred fire “ Are on the wing to join your choir!” He said—and, light as bridegrooms bound To their young loves, reclimbeu the steep And gained the Shrine—his Chiefs stood round- Their swords, as with instinctive leap, Together, at that cry accursed, Had from their sheaths, like sunbeams, burst. And hark !—again—again it rings; Near and more near its echoings oTHE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. Peal through the chasm—0 ! who that then Had seen those listening warrior-men, With their swords grasped, their eyes of flame Turned on their Chief—could doubt the shame, Th’ indignant shame with which they thrill To hear those shouts and yet stand still? He read their thoughts—they were his own— “ What! while our arms can wield these blades “ Shall we die tamely? die alone ? “Without one victim to our shades, “ One Moslem heart, where, buried deep, “ The sabre from its toil may sleep ? “No—God of Iran’s burning skies! “Thou scorn’st th’ inglorious sacrifice. “No—though of all earth’s hope bereft, “ Life, swords, and vengeance still are left. “We’ll make yon valley’s reeking caves “Live in the awe-struck minds of men, “Till tyrants shudder, when their slaves “Tell of the Gheber’s bloody glen. “ Follow, brave hearts!—this pile remains “ Our refuge still from life and chains : “But his the best, the holiest bed, “Who sinks entombed in Moslem dead !” 2 A 277278 LALLA ROOKH. Down the precipitous rocks they sprung. While vigour, more than human, strung Each arm and heart.—Th’ exulting foe Still through the dark defiles below, Tracked by his torches’ lurid fire. Wound slow, as through Golconda’s vale® The mighty serpent, in his ire, Glides on with glittering, deadly trail. No torch the Ghebers need—so well They know each mystery of the dell, So oft have, in their wanderings, Crossed the wild race that round them dwell. The very tigers from their delves Looked out, and let them pass, as things Untamed and fearless like themselves! There was a deep ravine, that lay Yet darkling in the Moslem’s way; Fit spot to make invaders rue The many fallen before the few. The torrents from that morning’s sky Had filled the narrow chasm breast-high, And, on each side, aloft and wild, Huge cliffs and toppling crags were piled, a See Hoole upon the Story of Sinbad.THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 279 The guards with which young Freedom lines The pathways to her mountain shrines, Here at this pass, the scanty band Of Iran’s last avengers stand ; Here wait, in silence like the dead, And listen for the Moslem’s tread So anxiously, the carrion-bird Above them flaps his wing unheard! They come—that plunge into the water Gives signal for the work of slaughter. Now, Ghebers, now—if e’er your blades Had point or prowess, prove them now— Woe to the file that foremost wades! They come—a falchion greets each brow, And, as they tumble, trunk on trunk, Beneath the gory waters sunk, Still o’er their drowning bodies press New victims quick and numberless; Till scarce an arm in Hafed’s band, So fierce their toil, hath power to stir, But listless from each crimson hand The sword hangs, clogged with massacre. Never was horde of tyrants met With bloodier welcome—never yet To patriot vengeance hath the sword More terrible libations poured !280 L A L L A ROOKH. All up the dreary, long ravine, By the red, murky glimmer seen Of half-quenched brands, that o’er the flood Lie scattered round and burn in blood, What ruin glares! what carnage swims! Heads, blazing turbans, quivering limbs, Lost swords that, dropped from many a hand, In that thick pool of slaughter stand ; Wretches who wading, half on fire From the tossed brands that round them fly, ’Twixt flood and flames in shrieks expire :— And some who, grasped by those that die, Sink woundless with them, smothered o’er In their dead brethren’s gushing gore! But vainly hundreds, thousands bleed, Still hundreds, thousands more succeed ; Countless as towards some flame at night The North’s dark insects wing their flight, And quench or perish in its light, To this terrific spot they pour— Till, bridged with Moslem bodies o’er, It bears aloft their slippery tread, And o’er the dying and the dead,— Tremendous causeway!—on they pass. Then, hapless Ghebers, then, alas! THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 2S1 What hope was left for you ? for you, Whose yet warm pile of sacrifice Is smoking in their vengeful eyes :— Whose swords how keen, how fierce they knew, And burn with shame to find how few. Crushed down by that vast multitude, 0 • Some found their graves where first they stood; While some with hardier struggle died, And still fought on by Hafed’s side, Who, fronting to the foe, trod back Towards the high towers his gory track; And, as a lion swept away By sudden swell of Jordan’s pride From the wild covert where he lay,a Long battles with th’ o’erwhelming tide, So fought he back with fierce delay, And Kept both foes and fate at bay. But whither now ? their track is lost, Their prey escaped—guide, torches gone— By torrent-beds and labyrinths crossed, The scattered crowd rush blindly on— a “In th:s thicket, upon the banks of the Jordan, several sorts of wild beasts are wont to harbour themselves, whose being washed out of the covert by the overflowings of the river, gave occasion to that allusion of Jeremiah, he shall ome up like a lion from the swelling of Jordan—MaundrelVs Aleppo. 2 a 2382 LALLA ROOKH. “ Curse on those tardy lights that wind,” They panting cry, “ so far behind; “0 for a bloodhound’s precious scent, “To track the way the Gheber went!” Vain wish—confusedly along They rush—more desperate as more wrong: Till, wildered by the far-off lights, Yet glittering up those gloomy heights, Their footing, mazed and lost, they miss, And down the darkling precipice Are dashed into the deep abyss; Or midway hang, impaled on rocks, A banquet, yet alive, for flocks Of ravening vultures,—while the dell Re-echoes with each horrible yell. Those sounds—the last, to vengeance dear* That e’er shall ring in Hafed’s ear,— Now reached him, as aloft, alone, Upon the steep way breathless thrown, He lay beside his reeking blade, Resigned, as if life’s task were o’er, Its last blood-offering amply paid, And Iran’s self could claim no more. One only thought, one lingering beam Now broke across his dizzy dreamTHE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 283 Of pain and weariness—’twas she, His heart’s pure planet, shining yet Above the waste of memory, When all life’s other lights were set. And never to his mind before Her image such enchantment wore. It seemed as if each thought that stained, Each fear that chilled their loves was past, And not one cloud of earth remained Between him and her radiance cast;— As if to charms, before so bright, New grace from other worlds was given, And his soul saw her by the light Now breaking o’er itself from heaven! A voice spoke near him—’twas the tone Of a loved friend, the only one Of all his warriors, left with life From that short night’s tremendous strife.— “ And must we then, my chief, die here ? “Foes round us, and the Shrine so near!” These words have roused the last remains Of life within him—“ What! not yet “Beyond the reach of Moslem chains!” The thought could make e’en Death forget His icy bondage—with a bound He springs, all bleeding, from the ground,L A L L A ROOKH, Z84 And grasps his comrade’s arm, now grown Ev’n feebler, heavier than his own, And up the painful pathway leads, Death gaining on each step he treads. Speed them, thou God, who heardst their vow! They mount—they bleed—0, save them now— The crags are red they’ve clambered o’er, The rock-weed’s dripping with their gore ;— Thy blade too, Hafed, false at length, Now breaks beneath thy tottering strength! Haste, haste—the voices of the Foe Come near and nearer from below— One effort more—thank Heaven ! ’tis past, They’ve gained the topmost steep at last. And now they touch the temple’s walls, Now Hafed sees the Fire divine— When, lo!—his weak, worn comrade falls Dead on the threshold of the Shrine. “Alas, brave soul! too quickly fled! “And must I leave thee withering here, “The sport of every ruffian’s tread, “The mark for every coward’s spear? “No, by yon altar’s sacred beams!” He cries, and, with a strength that seems Not of this world, uplifts the frame Of the fallen Chief, and towards the flameTHE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 295 Bears him along ;—with death-damp hand The corpse upon the pyre he lays, Then lights the consecrated brand, And fires the pile, whose sudden blaze Like lightning bursts o’er Oman’s Sea.— “Now, Freedom’s God! I come to thee,’” The youth exclaims, and with a smile Of triumph vaulting on the pile, In that last effort, ere the fires Have harmed one glorious limb, expires! What shriek was that on Oman’s tide ? It came from yonder drifting bark, That just hath caught upon her side The death-light—and again is dark. It is the boat—ah, why delayed ?— That bears the wretched Moslem maid y Confided to the watchful care Of a small veteran band, with whom Their generous Chieftain would not share The secret of his final doom, But hoped when Hinda, safe and free, Was rendered to her father’s eyes, Their pardon, full and prompt, would be The ransom of so dear a prize.— Unconscious, thus, of Hafed’s fate, And proud to guard their beauteous freight,2S6 LALLA ROOKH. Scarce had they cleared the surfy waves That foam around those frightful caves, When the cursed war-whoops, known so well, Came echoing from the distant dell— Sudden each oar, upheld and still, Hung dripping o’er the vessel’s side, And, driving at the current’s will, They rocked along the whispering tide; While every eye, in mute dismay, Was toward that fatal mountain turned, Where the dim altar’s quivering ray As yet all lone and tranquil burned. O! ’tis not, Hinda, in the power Of Fancy’s most terrific touch To paint thy pangs in that dread hour— Thy silent agony—’twas such As those who feel could paint too well, But none e’er felt and lived ic tell! ’Twas not alone the dreary state Of a lorn spirit, crushed by fate, When, though no more remains to dread, The panic chill will not depart;— When, though the inmate Hope be dead, Her ghost still haunts the mouldering heart No—pleasures, hopes, affections gone, The wretch may bear, and yet live on,THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. >*7 Like things, within the cold rock found Alive, when all’s congealed around But there's a blank repose in this, A calm stagnation, that were bliss To the keen, burning, harrowing pain, Now felt through all thy breast and brain ;— That spasm of terror, mute, intense, That breathless, agonized suspense, From whose hot throb, whose deadly aching, The heart hath no relief but breaking! & * Calm is the wave—heaven’s brilliant lights Reflected dance beneath the prow ;— Time was when, on such lovely nights, She who is there, so desolate now, Could sit all cheerful, though alone, And ask no happier joy than seeing That starlight o'er the waters thrown— No joy but that, to make her bless’d, And the fresh, buoyant sense of Being, Which bounds in youth’s yet careless breast,— Itself a star, not borrowing light, But in its own glad essence bright. How different now!—but, hark, again The yell of havoc rings—brave men! In vain, with beating hearts, ye stand On*the bark’s edge—in vain each hand"288 LALLA ROOKH. Half draws the falchion from its sheath ; All’s o’er—in rust your blades may lie:— He, at whose word they’ve scattered death, Ev’n now, this night, himself must die! Well may ye look to yon dim tower, And ask, and wondering guess what mean? The battle-cry at this dead hour— Ah ! she could tell you—she, who leans Unheeded there, pale, sunk, aghast, With brow against the dew-cold mast;— Too well she knows—her more than life, Her soul’s first idol and its last, Lies bleeding in that murderous strife. But see—what moves upon the height? Some signal!—’tis a torch’s light. What bodes its solitary glare ? In gasping silence toward the Shrine All eyes are turned—thine, Hinda, thine Fix their last, fading life-beams there. 5Twas but a moment—fierce and high The death-pile blazed into the sky, And far away, o’er rock and flood, Its melancholy radiance sent; While IIafed, like a vision, stood Revealed before the burning pyre, Tall, shadowy, like a Spirit of Fire Shrinea in its own grand elemen;.THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 2&9 u ;Tis he!”—the shuddering maid exclaims,— But, while she speaks, he’s seen no more; High burst in air the funeral flames, And Iran’s hopes and hers are o’er! One wild, heart-broken shriek she gave; Then sprung, as if to reach that blaze, Where still she fixed her d}:ing gaze, And, gazing, sunk into the wave,— Deep, deep, where never care or pain Shall reach her innocent heart again! Farewell—farewell to thee, Araby’s daughter? (Thus warbled a Peri beneath the dark sea,) No pearl ever lay, under Oman’s green wTater, More pure in its shell than thy Spirit in thee. 0! fair as the sea-flower close to thee growing, How light wTas thy heart till Love’s witchery came, Like the wind of the southa o’er a summer lute blowing, And hushed all its music, and withered its frame! But long, upon Araby’s green, sunny highlands, Shall maids and their lovers remember the doom a “ This wind (the Samoor) so softens the strings of lutes, that they ra* never be tuned while it lasts.”—Stephen's Persia. 2 B290 LALLA R O 0 K H. Of her, who lies sleeping among the Pearl Islands. With naught but the sea-stara to light up her tomb. And still, when the merry date-season is burning, And calls to the palm-groves the young and the rid, The happiest there, from their pastime returning At sunset, will weep when thy story is told. # The young village-maid, when with flowers she dresses Her dark, flowing hair for some festival day, Will think of thy fate till, neglecting her tresses, She mournfully turns from the mirror away. Nor shall Iran, beloved of her Hero ! forget thee— Though tyrants watch over her tears as they start, Close, close by the side of that Hero she’ll set thee. Embalmed in the innermost shrine of her heart. Farewell—be it ours to embellish thy pillow With every thing beauteous that grows in the deep ; Each flower of the rock and each gem of the billow Shall sweeten thy bed and illumine thy sleep. a “ One of the greatest curiosities found in the Persian Gulf is a fish wnich the English call Star-fish. It is circular, and at night very luminous, resembling the full moon surrounded by rays.”—Mirza Abu Taleb. b For a description of the merriment of the date-time, of their work, their dances, and their return home from the pahn groves at the end of autumn with the fruits, see Kempfer Amcenitat. ExoUTHE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 291 Around thee shall glisten the loveliest ambei That ever the sorrowing sea-bird has wept;a With many a shell, in whose hollow-wreathed chamber We, Peris of Ocean, by moonlight have slept. We’ll dive where the gardens of coral lie darkling, And plant all the rosiest stems at thy head ; We’ll seek where the sands of the Caspian13 are sparkling, And gather their gold to strew over thy bed. Farewell—farewell—until Pity’s sweet fountain Is lost in the hearts of the fair and the brave, They’ll weep for the Chieftain who died on that mountain, They’ll weep for the Maiden who sleeps in this wave. a e»ome naturalists have imagined that amber is a concretion ot the tears of birds.—See Trevoiuc, Chambers, b *«The Day rUeselarke, which is otherwise called the Golden Bay, the sand whereof sntnes as fire.”—S/rwy.•292 LALLA ROOKH. The singular placidity with which Fadladeen had listened, during the latter part of this obnoxious story, surprised the Princess and Feramorz exceedingly; and even inclined towards him the hearts of these unsuspicious young persons, who little knew the source of a complacency so marvellous. The truth was, he had been organizing, for the last few days, a most notable plan of persecution against the Poet, in consequence of some passages that had fallen from him cn the second evening of recital,—which appeared to this worthy Chamberlain to contain language and princi- ples, for which nothing short of the summary criticism of the Chabuka would be advisable. It was his intention, therefore, immediately on their arrival at Cashmere, to give information ro the King of Bucharia of the very dangerous sentiments of his minstrel; and if, unfortunately, that monarch did not act with suitable vigour on the occasion, (that is, if he did not give the Chabuk to Feramorz, and a place to Fadla- deen,) there would be an end, he feared, of all legitimate government in Bucharia. He could not help, however, auguring better both for himself and the cause of potentates m genen'j : and it was the pleasure arising from these mingled a “ The application of whips or rods.”—Dubois.LALLA ROOKH. 293 anticipations that diffused such unusifal satisfaction through his features, and made his eyes shine out, like poppies of the desert, over the wide and lifeless wilderness of that counte- nance. Having decided upon the poet’s chastisement in this manner, he thought it but humanity to spare him the minor tortures of criticism. Accordingly, when they assembled the following evening in the pavilion, and Lalla Rookk was expecting to see all the beauties of her bard melt away, one by one, in the acidity of criticism, like pearls in the cup of the Egyptian queen,—he agreeably disappointed her by merely saying, with an ironical smile, that the merits of such a poem deserved to be tried at a much higher tribunal; and then suddenly passed off into a panegyric upon all Mussulman sovereigns, more particularly his august and Imperial master, Aurunozebe,—the wisest and best of the descendants of Timur,—who, among other great things he had done for mankind, had given to him, Fadladeen, the very profitable posts of Betel-carrier, and Taster of Sherbets to the Emperor, Chief Holder of the Girdle of Beautiful Forms,a and Grand Nazir, or Chamberlain of the Haram. a Kempfer mentions such an officer among the attendants of the King of Persia, and calls him “ forrnse corporis estimator.” His business was, at stated periods, to measure the ladies of the Haram by a sort of regulation-girdle, whose limits it was not thought graceful to exceed. If any of them outgrew this standard of -hape, they were reduced by abstinence till they came within proper bounds. 2 b 2294 L A L L A ROOKH. They were now not far from that Forbidden River/ beyond which no pure Hindoo can pass; and were reposing for a time in the rich valley of Hussun Abdaul, which had always been a favourite resting-place of the Emperors in their annual migrations to Cashmere. Here often had the Light of the Faith, Jehanguire, been known to wander with his beloved and beautiful Nourmahal; and here wrould Lalla Rookh have been happy to remain for ever, giving up the throne of Bucharia and the world, for Feramorz and love in this sweet, lonely valley. But the time was now fast approaching when she must see him no longer,—or, what was still worse, behold him with eyes whose every look belonged to another; and there was a melancholy precious- !ness in these last moments, which made her heart cling to them as it would to life. During the latter part of the journey, indeed, she had sunk into a deep sadness, from which nothing but the presence of the young minstrel could A awake her. Like those lamps in tombs, which only light up when the air is admitted, it was only at his approach that her eyes became smiling and animated. But here, in this dear valley, every moment appeared an age of pleasure; she saw him all day, and was, therefore, all day happy,—resembling, a The Attock. “Akbar on his way ordered a fort to be built upon the Nilab, which he called Attock, which means, in the Indian language, Forbidden; for, by the superstition of the Hindoos, it was held unlawful to cross that river.”—Dow’s Hindostan.L A L L A KOO K H. 295 she often thought, that people of Zinge,a who attribute the unfading cheerfulness they enjoy to one genial star that rises nightly over their heads.15 The whole party, indeed, seemed in their liveliest mood during the few days they passed in this delightful solitude. The young attendants of the Princess, who were here allowed a much freer range than they could safely be indulged with in a less sequestered place, ran wild among the gardens, and bounded through the mea- dows, lightly as young roes over the aromatic plains of Tibet; while Fadladeen, in addition to the spiritual com- fort derived by him from a pilgrimage to the tomb of the Saint from whom the valley is named, had also opportu- nities of indulging, in a small way, his taste for victims, by putting to death some hundreds of those unfortunate a“The inhabitants of this country (Zinge) are never afflicted with sadness or melancholy; on this subject the Sheikh Abu-al-Kheir-Azhari has the follow- ing distich:— “ ‘ Who is the man without care or sorrow (tell) that . may rub my hand to him. “ ‘ (Behold) the Zingians, without care or sorrow, frolicksome with tipsiness and mirth.’ 6i The philosophers have discovered that the cause of this cheerfulness pro- ceeds from the influence of the star Soheil or Canopus, which rises over therr every night.”—Extract from a Geographical Persian Manuscript called HeJ\ Aklim, or the Seven Climates, translated by JV, Ouseley, Esy. b The star Soheil, or Canopus.29G L A L L A ROOKH. little lizards/ which all pious Mussulmans make it a point to kill,—taking for granted, that the manner in which the creature hangs its head is meant as a mimicry of the atti- tude in which the Faithful say their prayers. About two miles from Hussun Abdaul were those Royal Gardens/ which had grown beautiful under the care of so many lovely eyes, and were beautiful still, though those eyes could see them no longer. This place, with its flowers and its holy silence, interrupted only by the dipping of the wings of birds in its marble basins filled with the pure water of those hills, was to Lalla Rookii all that her heart could fancy of fragrance, cool- ness, and almost heavenly tranquillity. As the Prophet said of Damascus, “It was too delicious ;”c—and here, a “The lizard Stellio. The Arabs call it Hardui:. The Turks kill it, for they imagine that by declining the head it mimics them when they say their prayers.”—Hasselquist. b For these particulars respecting Hussun Abdaul I am indebted to the very interesting Introduction of Mr. Elphinstone’s work upon Caubul. c “As you enter at that Bazar, without the gate of Damascus, you see the Green Mosque, so called because it hath a steeple faced with green glazed bricks, which render it very resplendent; it is covered at top with a pavilion of the same stuff. The Turks say this mosque was made in that place, be- cause Mahomet, being come so far, would not enter the town, saying it was too delicious.”—Thevenot. This reminds one of the following pretty passage in Isaac Walton:—“When I sat last on this primrose bank, and looked down these meadows, I thought of them as Charles the Emperor did of the city of Florence, ‘ that they v’vre too pleasant to be looked on, but only on holidays/ ”L A L L A ROOKH. 297 in listening to the sweet voice of Feramorz, or reading m his eyes what yet he never dared to tell her, the most exquisite moments of her whole life were passed. One evening, when they haa been talking of the Sultana Nourmahal, the Light of the Haram,a who had so often wandered among these flowers, and fed with her own hands, in those marble basins, the small, shining fishes of wnich she was so fond,b—the youth, in order to delay the moment of separation, proposed to recite a short story, or rather rhapsody, of which this adored Sultana was the heroine. It related, he said, to the reconcilement of a sort of lovers’ quarrel which took place between her and the Emperor during a Feast of Roses at Cashmere; and would remind the Princess of that difference between Haroun-al-Raschid and his fair mistress Marida,0 which wras so happily made up by the soft strains of the musi- a Nourmahal signifies Light of the Haram. She was afterwards called Nourjehan, or the Light of the World. b See note, p. 240. c“Haroun A1 Raschid, cinquieme Khalife des Abassides, s’etant un jour brouille avec une de ses maitresses nommee Maridah, qu’il aimoit cependant jusqu’a l’exces, et cette mesintelligence ayant deja duree quelque terns com- men^a a s’ennuyer. Giafar Barmaki, ?on favori, qui s’en appercut, commanda i Abbas ben Ahnaf, excellent poete de ce terns la, de composer quelques vers sur le sujet de cette brouillerie. Ce potte executa l’ordre de Giafar, qui fit chanter ces vers par Moussali en presence du Khalife, et ce prinefi iul tellement touche de la tendresse des vers du potte et de la douceur 3e la voix du musicie a qu'il alia aussi-tot trouver Maridah, et fit sa paix avee dle.,; —If Herbelot,LALLA KOOKE 298 cian, Moussali. As the story was chiefly to be told in song, and Feramorz had unluckily forgotten his own lute in the valley, he borrowed the vina of Lalla Rockh's little Persian slave, and thus began:—*THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. Who has not heard of the vale of Cashmere, With its roses the brightest that earth ever gave/* Its temples, and grottoes, and fountains as clear As the love-lighted eyes that hang over their wave 1 0 ! to see it at sunset,—when warm o’er the Lake Its splendour at parting a summer eve throws, Like a bride, full of blushes, when lingering to take A last look of her mirror at night ere she goes!— When the shrines through the foliage are gleaming half shown, And each hallows the hour by some rites of its own. Here the music of prayer from a minaret swells, Here the Magian his urn, full of perfume, is swinging, a “The rose of Kashmire, for its brilliancy and delicacy of odour, has V: frscn proverbial in the East.”—Forster•300 LALLA ROOKH And here, at the altar, a zone of sweet bells Round the waist of some fair Indian dancer is ringing/ Or to see it by moonlight,—when mellowly shines The light o’er its palaces, gardens, and shrines; When the waterfalls gleam, like a quick fall of stars, And the nightingale’s hymn from the Isle of Chenars Is b (.ken by laughs and light echoes of feet From the cool shining walks where the young people meet.— Or at morn, when the magic of daylight awakes A new wonder each minute, as slowly it breaks, Hills, cupolas, fountains, called forth every one Out of darkness, as if but just born of the Sun. When the Spirit of Fragrance is up with the day, From his Haram of night-flowers stealing away; And the wind, full of wantonness, wooes like a lover The young aspen-trees,b till they tremble all over. When the East is as warm as the light of first hopes, And Day, with his banner of radiance unfurled, Shines in through the mountainous portal0 that opes, Sublime, from that Valley of bliss to the world! a “ 1 ied round her waist the zone of bells, that sounded with ravishing melody.”—Song of Jayadeva. b “The little isles in the Lake of Cachemire are set with arbours and large- ieavea aspen-trees, slender and tall.”—Bernier. < “ The Tuckt Suliman, the name bestowed by the Mahometans on tma hill, forms one side of a grand portal to the Lake.”—Forster•THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. m But never yet, by night or day, In dew of spring or summer’s ray. Did the sweet Valley shine so gay As now it shines—all love and light, Visions by day and feasts by night! A happier smile illumes each brow, With quicker spread each heart uncloses* And all is ecstasy,—for now The Valley holds its Feast of Roses ;a The joyous time, when pleasures pour Profusely round, and, in their shower, Hearts open, like the Season’s Rose,— The Floweret of a hundred leaves,b Expanding while the dew-fall flows, And every leaf its balm receives. ’Twas when the hour of evening came Upon the Lake, serene and cool, When Day had hid his sultry flame Behind the palms of Baramoule,c When maids began to lift their heads, Refreshed, from their embroidered beds, a“The Feast of Roses continues the whole time of their remaining it bloom.”—See Pietro de la Valle. b “ Gul sad berk, the Rose of a hundred leaves. I believe a particulai gpec.ies.”— Ouscley. c Bernier. 2 CL A L L A ROOKH, W)2 Where they had slept the sun away, And waked to moonlight and to play. All were abroad—the busiest hive On Bela’s a hills is less alive, When saffron-beds are full in flower, Than looked the Valley in that hour. A thousand restless torches played Through every grove and island shade: A thousand sparkling lamps were set On every dome and minaret; And fields and pathways, far and near, Were lighted by a blaze so clear, That you could see, in wandering round. The smallest rose-leaf on the ground. Yet did the maids and matrons leave Their veils at home, that brilliant eve; And there were glancing eyes about, And cheeks, that would not dare shine out In open day, but thought they might Look lovely then, because ’twas night. And all were free, and wandering, And all exclaimed to all they met, That never did the summer bring So gay a Feast of Roses yet;— d A place mentioned in the Toozek Jehangeery, or Memoirs of JehangJ/ira, v'here there is an account of the beds of saffron-flowers about Cashmere.THE LIGH’J OF THE H A R A M. 303 The moon had never shed a light So clear as that which blessed them there ; The roses ne’er shone half so bright, Nor they themselves looked half so fair. And what a wilderness of flowers1 It seemed as though from all the bowers And fairest fields of all the year, The mingled spoil were scattered here. The Lake, too, like a garden breathes, With the rich buds that o’er it lie,— As if a shower of fairy wreaths Had fallen upon it from the sky! And then the sounds of joy,—the beat Of tabors and of dancing feet; The minaret-crier’s chant of glee Sung from his lighted gallery,a And answered by a ziraleet From neighbouring Haram, wild and sweet;— The merry laughter, echoing From gardens, where the silken swingb a “It is the custom among the women to employ the Maazecn to chant from the gallery of the nearest minaret, which on that occasion is illuminated, and the women assembled at the house respond at intervals with a ziraleet or joyous chorus.”—Russell. b “The swing is a favourite pastime in the East, as promoting a circulation of air, extremely refreshing in those sultry climates.”—Ri •hardson. i “The swings are adorned with festoons. This pastime is accompanied r304 L ALLA ROOKH. Wafts'some delighted girl above The top leaves of the orange-grove; Or, from those infant groups at play -Among the tents a that line the way, Flinging, unawed by slave or mother, Handfuls of roses at each other.— Then, the sounds from the Lake,—the low whispering in boats. As they shoot through the moonlight;—the dipping of oars, And the wild, airy warbling that every where floats, Through the groves, round the islands, as if all the shores, Like those of Ivathay, uttered music, and gave An answer in song to the kiss of each wave.b Tut the gentlest of all are those sounds full of feeling, That soft from the lute of some lover are stealing,— Some lover, who knows all the heart-touching power Of a lute and a sigh in this magical hour. with music of voices and of instruments, hired by the masters of the swings.”— ThevenoU a “At the keeping of the Feast of Roses we beheld an infinite number of tents pitched, with such a crowd of men, women, boys, and girls, with music, dances,” &c. &c___Herbert. b “ An old commentator of the Chou-Iving says, the ancients having re- marked that a current of water made some of the stones near its banks send forth a sound, they detached some of them, and being charmed with the de- lightful sound they emitted, constructed King or musical instruments of them.” -Grosier. This miraculous quality has been attributed also to the shore of Attica. M Hujus littus, ait Capella, concentum musicum illisis terrse undis reddere, quod propter tantam eruditionis vim puto dictum.”—Ludov. Vives} in Augustin. dt * Hvital. Dei} lib. xviii. c. 8.THE LIGHT OF THE KARAM. 305 0! best of delights, as it everywhere is, To be near the loved One, what a rapture is his Who in moonlight and music thus sweetly may glide O’er the Lake of Cashmere, with that One by his side! \ \ ' If woman can make the worst wilderness dear, - Think, think what a Heaven she must make of Cashmere’ So felt the magnificent Son of AcBAR,a When from power and pomp and the trophies of war He flew to that Valley, forgetting them all, With the Light of the Haram, his young Nourmahal. When free and uncrowned as the Conqueror roved By the banks of that Lake, with his only beloved, He saw, in the wTreaths she would playfully snatch From the hedges, a glory his crown could not match, And preferred in his heart the least ringlet that curled Down her exquisite neck to the throne of the world. There’s a beauty, for ever unchangingly bright, Like the long, sunny lapse of a summer-day’s light, Shining on, shining on, by no shadow made tender, Till Love falls asleep in its sameness of splendour. This was not the beauty—0, nothing like this, * That to young Nourmahal gave such magic of bliss! a Jehanguire was the son of the Great Acbar. 2 c 2But that loveliness, ever in motion, which plays Like the light upon autumn’s soft, shadowy days, Now here and now there, giving warmth as it flies From the lip to the cheek, from the cheek to the eyes; Nowt melting in mist and now breaking in gleams, Like the glimpses a saint hath of Heaven in his dreams. When pensive, it seemed as if that very grace, That charm of all others, was born with her face! And when angry,—for ev’n in the tranquillest climes Light breezes will ruffle the blossoms sometimes,— The short, passing anger but seemed to awaken New beauty, like flowers that are sweetest when shaken. If tenderness touched her, the dark of her eye At once took a darker, a heavenlier dye, From the depth of whose shadow, like holy revealings From innermost shrines, came the light of her feelings. Then her mirth—0! ’twas sportive as ever took wing From the heart with a burst, like the wild-bird in spring; Illumed by a wit that would fascinate sages, Yet playful as Peris just loosed from their cages.'1 While her laugh, full of life, without any control But the sweet one of gracefulness, rung from her soul; a In the wars of the Dives with the Peris, whenever the former took the hitter prisoners, “ they shut them up in iron cages, and hung them on the 1ii ghest trees. Here they were visited by their companions, who brought them (he choicest odours/'—Richardson,THE LIGHT OF THE HA RAM. 307 And where it most sparkled no glance could discover, In lip, cheek, or eyes, for she brightened all over,— Like any fair lake that the breeze is upon, When it breaks into dimples and laughs in the sun. Such, such were the peerless enchantments, that gave Nourmahal the proud Lord of the East for her slave : And though bright was his Haram,—a living parterre Of the flowers a of this planet—though treasures were thrre For which Soliman’s self might have given all the store That the navy from Ophir e’er winged to his shore, Yet dim before her were the smiles of them all, And the Light of his Haram was young Nourmahal! But where is she now, this night of joy, When bliss is every heart’s employ ?— When all around her is so bright, So like the visions of a trance, That one might think, who came by chance Into the vale this happy night, lie sawT that City of Delight,h In Fairy-land, whose streets and towers Are made of gems and light and flowers * Where is the loved Sultana ? where, When mirth brings out the young and fair,- a In the Malay language the same word signifies women and flowers 1 The capital of Shadukiam. See note, p. 174. 308 L A L L A ROOKH. Does she, the fairest, hide her brow, In melancholy stillness now ? Alas!—how light a cause may move Dissension between hearts that love! Hearts that the world in vain had tried, And sorrow but more closely tied; That stood the storm, when waves were rough. Yet in a sunny hour fall off, Like ships that have gone down at sea, When heaven was all tranquillity! A something, light as air—a look, A word unkind or wrongly taken— 0 ! love, that tempests never shook, A breath, a touch like this hath shaken And ruder words will soon rush in To spread the breach that words begin; And eyes forget the gentle ray They wore in courtship’s smiling day, And voices lose the tone that shed A tenderness round all they said; Till fast declining, one by one, The sweetnesses of love are gone, And hearts, so lately mingled, seem Like broken clouds,—or like the stream, That smiling left the mountain’s brow, As though its waters ne’er could sever,THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 309 Ye:, ere it reach the plain below. Breaks into floods, that part for ever. 0, you that have the charge of Love, Keep him in rosy bondage bound, As in the Fields of Bliss above He sits, with flowerets fettered round ;a—• Loose not a tie that round him clings, Nor ever let him use his wings; For ev’n an hour., a minute’s flight Will rob the plumes of half their light, Like that celestial bird,—whose nest Is found beneath far Eastern skies,— Whose wings, though radiant when at rest, Lose all their glory when he flies!b Some difference, of this dangerous kind,— By which, though light, the links that bind The fondest hearts may soon be riven; Some shadow in Love’s summer heaven, Which, though a fleecy speck at first, May yet in awful thunder burst;— a See the representation of the Eastern Cupid, pinioned closely round with wreaths of flowers, in Picart’s Ceremonies Religieuses. b “ Among the birds of Tonquin is a species of goldfinch, which sings sc melodiously that it is called the Celestial Bird. Its wings, when it is perched, appear variegated with beautiful colours, but when it flies they lose all thei/ splendour/’—G rosier.310 LALLA R 0 O K K. Such cloud it is, that now hangs over The heart of the Imperial Lover, And far hath banished from his sight His Nourmahal, his Haram’s Light! Hence is it, on this happy night, When Pleasure through the fields and groves Has let loose all her world of loves, And every heart has found its own, He wanders, joyless and alone, And weary as that bird of Thrace, Whose pinion knows no resting-place.a In vain the loveliest cheeks and eyes This Eden of the Earth supplies Come crowding round—the cheeks are pale, The eyes are dim:—though rich the spot With every flower this earth has got, What is it to the nightingale, If there his darling rose is not?b In vain the Valley’s smiling throng Worship him, as he moves along; a “ As these birds on the Bosphorus are never known to rest, they are called by the French ‘ les rimes damnees.’ ”—Dalloway. b “ You may place a hundred handfuls of fragrant herbs and flowers before the nightingale, yet he wishes not, in his constant heart, for more than the sweet breath of his beloved rose/'—Jami.THE LIGHT OF THE H A R A M. 311 He heeds them not—one smile of hers- Is worth a world of worshippers. They but the Star's adorers are. She is the Heaven that lights the Star 1 Hence it is, too, that Nourmahal, Amid the luxuries of this hour, Far from the joyous festival, Sits in her own sequestered bower, With no one near, to soothe or aid, But that inspired and wondrous maid, Namouna, the Enchantress :—one, O’er whom his race the golden sun For unremembered years has run, Yet never saw her blooming brow Younger or fairer than ’tis now. Nay, rather,—as the west wind’s sigh Freshens the flower it passes by, Time’s wing but seemed, in stealing o’er* To leave her lovelier than before. Yet on her smiles a sadness hung, And when, as oft, she spoke or sung Of other worlds, there came a light From her dark eyes so strangely bright, That all believed nor man nor earth Were conscious of Namouna’s birth ?312 LALLA ROOKH. All spells and talismans she knew, From the great Mantra,1'1 which around The Air’s sublimer Spirits drew, To the gold gemsb of Afric, bound Upon the wandering Arab’s arm, To keep him from the Siltim’s0 harm. And she had pledged her powerful art,— Pledged it with all the zeal and heart Of one who knew, though high her sphere, What ’twas to lose a love so dear,— To find some spell that should recall Her Selim’s d smile to Nourmahal! ’Twas midnight—through the lattice, wreathed With woodbine, many a perfume breathed * 1 * From plants that wake when others sleep, From timid jasmine buds, that keep / 9 Their odour to themselves all day, But when the sunlight dies away, Let die delicious secret out To every breeze that roams about;— A “ He is said to have found the great Mantra, spell or talisman, through tthich he ruled over the elements and spirits of all denominations.”—Wilford. b “The gold jewels of Jinnie, which are called by the Arabs E Herrez. Rom the supposed charm they contain/’—Jackson. c “ A demon, supposed to haunt woods, &c., in a human shape.*'— Richardson* _ d The name of Jehanguire before his accession to the throne.THE LIGHT OF THE H A R A M. 3W When thus Namouna :—“ ’Tis the hour • That scatters spells on herb and flower, “And garlands might be gathered now, “ That, twined around the sleeper’s brow, “Would make him dream of such delights, “ Such miracles and dazzling sights, “ As Genii of the Sun behold, “At evening, from their tents of gold “Upon th’ horizon—where they play “ Till twilight comes, and, ray by ray, “Their sunny mansions melt away. “Now, too, a chaplet might be wreathed “ Of buds o’er which the moon has breathed, “Which worn by her, whose love has strayed, “ Might bring some Peri from the skies, “ Some sprite, whose very soul is made “ Of flowerets’ breaths and lovers’ sighs, “And who might tell-------” “ For me, for me,"’ Cried Nourmahal impatiently,— “ 0 ! twine that wreath for me to-night.” 'I hen, rapidly, with foot as light As the young musk-roe’s, out she flew, To cull each shining leaf that grew Beneath the moonlight’s hallowing beams, For this enchanted Wreath of Dreams.L A L L A ROOKH. Anemones and Seas of Gold/1 And new-blown lilies of the river. And those sweet flowerets, that unfold Their buds on Camadeva’s quiver ;b The tube-rose, with her silvery light, That in the Gardens of Malay Is called the Mistress of the Night,c So like a bride, scented and bright. She comes out when the sun's away; Amaranths, such as crown the maids That wander through Zamara’s shades ;d— And the white moon-flower, as it shows, On Serendib’s high crags, to those Who near the isle at evening sail, Scenting her clove-trees in the gale; In short, all flowerets and all plants, From the Divine Amrita tree,6 a “ Ilemasagara, or the Sea of Gold, with flowers of the brightest gold colour.”—Sir IF. Jones. b “This tree (the Nagacesara) is one of the most delightful on earth, and the delicious odour of its blossoms justly gives them a place in the quiver of Camadeva, or the God of Love.”—Id. c “The Malayans style the tube-rose (Polianthes tuberosa) Sandal Malam, or the Mistress of the Night.”—Pennant. d The people of the Batta country in Sumatra, (of which Zamara is one of the ancient names,) “ when not engaged in war, lead an idle, inactive lile, passing the day in playing on a kind of flute, crowred with garlands >f flowers, among which the globe-amaranthus, a native of the country, mostly prevails.”— Mnrsden. e “The lar jest and richest sort (of the Jambu or rose-apple) is called Am*  E Sc riven K Meadow: - 1? ’v'm «a 93% ’ijp *•!§» 111 (D IMo Aher glance Spoke something, past all mortal pleasures, As, m a kind, of holy trance."THE L I G II T OF THE H A R A M. 31S That blesses heaven’s inhabitants With fruits of immortality, Down to the basil tuft,a that waves Its fragrant blossom over graves, And to the humble rosemary, Whose sweets so thanklessly are shed To scent the desertb and the dead— All in that garden bloom, and all Are gathered by young Nourmaiial, Who heaps her baskets with the flowers And leaves, till they can hold no more; Then to Namouna flies, and showers Upon her lap the shining store. With what delight th’ Enchantress views So many buds, bathed with the dews And beams of that blessed hour!—her glance Spoke something, past all mortal pleasures, As, in a kind of holy trance, She hung above those fragrant treasures, rita, or immortal, and the mythologists of Tibet apply the same word to a cele*- tial tree, bearing ambrosial fruit.”—Sir W. Jones. a Sweet basil, called Rayhan in Persia, and generally found in churchyards. “ The women in Egypt go, at least two days in the week, to pray and weep «t the sepulchres of the dead ; and the custom then is to throw upon the tombs a sort of herb, which the Arabs call riahu, and which is our sweet basil.”— MailUt., Lett. 10. b “In the Great Desert are found many stalks of lavender and rosemary f— Asir^ Pes.LA], LA ROOKH. die Bending to drink their balmy airs, As if she mixed her soul with theirs. And ’twas, indeed, the perfume shed From flowers and scented flame, that fea Her charmed life—for none had e’er Beheld her taste of mortal fare, Nor ever in aught earthly dip, But the morn’s dew, her roseate lip. Filled with the cool, inspiring smell, Th’ Enchantress now begins her spell, Thus singing as she winds and weaves, In mystic form the glittering leaves :— I know where the winged visions dwell That around the night-bed play; I know each herb and floweret’s bell, Where they hide their wings by day. Then hasten we, maid, To twine our braid ; To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fans, The image of love, that nightly flies To visit the bashful maid, Steals from the jasmine flower, that sighs Its soul, like her, in the shade.THE LIGHT 0 F THE KARA M. 3\7 The dream of a future, happier hour, That alights on misery’s brow, Springs out of the silvery almond flower, That blooms on a leafless bough.a Then hasten we, maid, To twine our braid; To -morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. The visions, that oft to worldly eyes The glitter of mines unfold, Inhabit the mountain-herb,b that dyes The tooth of the fawn like gold. The phantom shapes—0 touch not them— That appal the murderer’s sight, Lurk in the fleshy mandrake’s stem, That shrieks, when plucked at night! a “The almond-tree, with white flowers, blossoms on the bare branches.’'— Hasselquist. h An herb on Mount Libanus, which is said to communicate a yellow, golden hue to the teeth of the goats and other animals that graze upon it Niebuhr thinks this may be the herb which the Eastern alchymists look te as a means of making gold. “ Most of those alchymical enthusiasts think them- selves sure of success, if they could but find out the herb, which gilds the teeth and gives a yellow colour to the flesh of the sheep that eat it. Even the oil of this plant must be of a golden colour. It is called Uuschisrhat cd dab.” Father Jerom Uandini, however, asserts that the teeth of the goats at Mount Libanus are of a silver colour; and adds, “this confirms to me that which I ob- served in Candia; to wit, that the animals that live on Mount Ida eat a certain herb, which renders their teeth of a golden colour; which, according to my judgment, cannot otherwise proceed than from the mines which are undet ground/*—Dandini, Voyage to Mount Libanus. 2 d 2L A L L A KOOKH » 31S Then hasten we, maid, To twine our braid ; To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. The dream of the injured, patient mind, That smiles at the wrongs of men, Is found in the bruised and wounded rind Of the cinnamon, sweetest then. Then hasten we, maid, To twine our braid; To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade* No sooner was the flowery crown Placed on her head, than sleep came down, Gently as nights of summer fall, Upon the lids of Nourmahal ;— And, suddenly, a tuneful breeze, As full of small, rich harmonies As ever wind, that o’er the tents Of Azab a blew, was full of scents, Steals on her ear, and floats and swells, Like the first air of morning creeping a The myrrh country.F P Stcoanoff No sooner was the fi< Dwery ctov Plac'd on her head, 1± ian sleep Gently as nights of si ummeT fall Upon the lids of hotj II MAHAL —THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM, 8W Into those wreathy, Red-Sea shells. Where Love himself, of old, lay sleeping ;a And now a Spirit formed, 'twould seem Of music and of light,—so fail So brilliantly his features beam, And such a sound is in the air Of sweetness when he waves his wings,— Hovers around her, and thus sings:— From CniNDARA’sb warbling fount I come, Called by that moonlight garland's spell; From Ciiindara’s fount, my fairy home, Where in music, morn and night, I dwell. Where lutes in the air are heard about, And voices are singing the whole day long, And every sigh the heart breathes out Is turned, as it leaves the lips, to song! Hither I come From my fairy home, And if there's a magic in Music’s strain, a “This idea (of deities living in shells) was not unknown to the Greeks, who represent the young Nerites, one of the Cupids, as living in shells on the shores of the Red Sea.”—Wilford. “ A fabulous fountain, where instruments are said to he constantly play- jag.”—Richardson.L A L L A ROOKII. I swear by the breath Of that moonlight wreath, Thy Lover shall sigh at thy feet again. For mine is the lay that lightly floats, And mine are the murmuring, dying notes, That fall as soft as snow on the sea, And melt in the heart as instantly:— And the passionate strain that, deeply going, Refines the bosom it trembles through, As the musk-wind, over the water blowing, Ruffles the wave, but sweetens it too. Mine is the charm, whose mystic sway The Spirits of past Delight obey;— Let but the tuneful talisman sound, And they come, like Genii, hovering round. And mine is the gentle song that bears, From soul to soul, the wishes of love, As a bird, that wafts through genial airs The cinnamon-seed from grove to grove.a tt “ The Pompadour pigeon is the species, which, by carrying the fruit of the cjnnanion to different places, is a great disseminator of this valuable tree.”—See Browns Illustr. Tab. 19.THE LIGHT OF THE KARA M. 321 *Tis I that mingle in one sweet measure The past, the present, and future of pleasure;51 When Memory links the tone that is gone With the blissful tone that’s still in the ear; And Hope from a heavenly note flies on To a note more heavenly still that is near. The warrior’s heart, when touched by me. Can as downy soft and as yielding be As his own white plume, that high amid death Through the field has shone—yet moves with a breath! And 0, how the eyes of Beauty glisten, When music has reached her inward souk Like the silent stars, that wink and listen While Heaven’s eternal melodies roll! a “ Whenever our pleasure arises from a succession of sounds, it is a per- ception of a complicated nature, made up of a sensation of the present sounds or note, and an idea or remembrance of the foregoing, while their mixture and concurrence produce such a mysterious delight, as neither could have produced alone. And it is often heightened by an anticipation of the succeeding notes. Thus Sense, Memory, and Imagination, are conjunctively employed.”—Gerrard on Taste. This is exactly the Epicurean theory of Pleasure, as explained by Cicero. —“ Quocirca corpus gaudere tamdiu, dum praesentem sentiret voluptatem: ani- mum et praesentem percipere pariter cum corpore et prospicere venientem, nec praeteritam praeterfluere sinere.” Madame de Stael accounts upon the same principle for the gratification we derive from rhyme:—“Elle est him age de l’espeiance et du souvenir. Un son nous fait desirer celui qui doit lui repond re, et quand le second retentit il nous rappelle celui qui vient de nous echapper.”322 L V L L A ROOKH. So, hither I come From my fairy home, And if there’s a magic in Music s strain, I swear by the breath Of that moonlight wreath, Thy Lover shall sigh at thy feet again. ’Tis dawn—at least that earlier dawn, Whose glimpses are again withdrawn/ As if the morn had waked, and then Shut close her lids of light again. And Nourmahal is up, and trying The wonders of her lute, whose strings— 0 bliss!—now murmur like the sighing From that ambrosial Spirit’s wings. a “ The Persians have two mornings, the Soobhi Kazim and the Soobhi Sadig, the false and the real daybreak. They account for this phenomenon in a most whimsical manner. They say that as the sun rises from behind the Kohi Qaf, (Mount Caucasus,) it passes a hole perforated through that moun- tain, and that darting its rays through it, it is the cause of the Soobhi Kazim, or this temporary appearance of daybreak. As it ascends, the earth is again veiled in darkness, until the sun rises above the mountain, and brings with it the Soobhi Sadig, or real morning.”—Scott Waring. He thinks Milton may allucte to this, when he says,— “Ere the blabbing Eastern scout, The nice morn on the Indian steep From her cabined loop-hole peep.”THE LIGHT OF THE H A R A M. f_» V l> And then, her voice—His more than human— Never, till now, had it been given To lips of any mortal woman To utter notes so fresh from heaven; Sweet as the breath of angel sighs, When angel sighs are most divine.— a 0 ! let it last till night,” she cries, “ And he is more than ever mine.” And hourly she renews the lay, So fearful lest its heavenly sweetness Should, ere the evening, fade away,— For things so heavenly have such fleetness. But, far from fading, it but grows Richer, diviner as it flows: Till rapt she dwells on every string, And pours again each sound along, Like Echo, lost and languishing, In love with her own wondrous song. That evening, (trusting that his soul Might be from haunting love released By mirth, by music, and the bowl,) Th’ Imperial Selim held a feast In his magnificent Shalimar;a— Jn whose saloons, when the first star a “ In the centre of the plain, as it approaches the Lake, one of the Delhi Emperors, I believe Shah Jchan, constructed a spacious garden called the Shali-L A L L A ROOK H. .1544 Of evening o’er the waters trembled. The Valley’s loveliest all assembled; All the bright creatures that, like dreams, Glide through its foliage, and drink beams Of beauty from its founts and streams ;a And all those wandering minstrel-maids, * Who leave—how can they leave ?—the shades Of that dear Valley, and are found Singing in gardens of the Southb O iD O Those songs, that ne’er so sweetly sound As from a young Cashmerian’s mouth. mar, which is abundantly stored with fruit-trees and flowering shrubs. Some of the rivulets which intersect the plain are led into a canal at the hack of the garden, and flowing through its centre, or occasionally thrown into a variety of water-works, compose the chief beauty of the Shalimar. To decorate this spot the Mogul Princes of India have displayed an equal magnificence and taste; especially Jehan Ghcer, who, with the enchanting Noor Mahl, made Kashmire his usual residence during the summer months. On arches thrown over the canal are erected, at equal distances, four or five suites of apartments, each consisting of a saloon, with four rooms at the angles, wrhere the followers of the court attend, and the servants prepare sherbets, coffee, and the hookah. The frame of the doors of the principal saloon is composed of pieces of a stone of a black colour, streaked with yellow lines, and of a closer grain and higher polish than porphyry. They w7ere taken, it is said, from a Hindoo temple, by one of the Mogul princes, and are esteemed of great value.”— Forster. a « The waters of Cachemir are the more renowned from its being supposed that the Cachemirians are indebted for their beauty to them.”—Mi Yezdi. b “From him I received the following little Gazzel, or Love Song, the notes of which he committed to paper from the voice of one of those singing girls of Cashmere, w7ho wrander from that delightful valley over the various parta of India.”—Persian Miscellanies.THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 525 There, too, the Haram’s inmates smile;— Maids from the West, with sunbright hair, And from the garden of the Nile, Delicate as the roses there ;a— Daughters of Love from Cyprus’ rocks, With Paphian diamonds in their locks ;b— Light Peri forms, such as there are On the gold meads of Candahar ;c And they, before whose sleepy eyes, in their own bright Kathaian bowers, Sparkle such rainbow butterflies, That they might fancy the rich flowers, That round them in the sun lay sighing, Had been by magic all set flying/1 Every thing young, every thing fair From East and West is blushing there, a “ Ths roses of the Jinan Nile, or Garden of the Nile, (attached to the Emperor of Marocco’s palace,) are unequalled, and mattresses arc made of their leaves for the men of rank to recline upon.”—Jackson. b “ On the side of a mountain near Paphos there is a cavern which produces the most beautiful rock-crystal. On account of its brilliancy it has been called the Paphian diamond.”—Mariti. c “There is a part of Candahar, called Peria, or Fairy Land.”—Thevenot. In some of those countries to the north of India, vegetaole gold is supposed to be produced. d « These are the butterflies which are called in the Chinese language Flying Leaves. Some of them have such shining colours, and are so variegated, that they may be called flying flowers; and indeed they are always produced m the fi nest flower-gardens.”—Dunn. 2 EExcept—except—0, Nuuumahal! Thou loveliest, dearest of them all, The one, whose smile shone out alone, Amidst a world the only one ; Whose light, among so many lights, W as like that star, on starry nights, The seaman singles from the sky, To steer his bark for ever by 1 Thou wert not there—so Selim thought, And every thing seemed drear without the^ But, ah! thou wert, thou wert, and brought Thy cnarm of song all fresh about thee. Mingling unnoticed with a band Of lutanists from many a land, And veiled by such a mask as shades The features of young Arab maids,a—- A mask that leaves but one eve free, To do its best in witcherv,— - She roved, with beating heart, around, And waited, trembling, for the minute, When she might try if still the sound Of her loved lute had magic in it. The board was spread with fruits and wine, With grapes of gold, like those that shine K “The Arabian women wear bla:k masks with little clasps prettily ordered. Carreri, Niebuhr mentions their showing but one eye in conversation. . j*.THE LIGHT OF THE H A R A M. 327 On Casbin’s hills ;0—pomegranates full Of melting sweetness, and the pears, And sunniest apples,b that Caubul, ■ In all its thousand gardens,0 bears:— Plantains, the golden and the green, Malaya’s nectared mangusteen ;d Prunes of Bokara, and sweet nuts From the far groves of Samarcand, And Basra dates, and apricots, Seed of the Sun,e from Iran’s land ; With rich conserve of Visna cherries,f Of orange flowers, and of those berries That, wild and fresh, the young gazelles Feed on in Erac’s rocky dells.s All these in richest vases smile, In baskets of pure santal-wood, a “ The golden grapes of Casbin.”—Description of Persia. b “ The fruits exported from Caubul are apples, pears, pomegranates,” &c.— Elphinstone. c “ We sat down under a tree, listened to the birds, and talked with the son of our Mehmaundar about our country and Caubul, of which he gave an enchanting account; that city and its hundred thousand gardens,” &c. - Id. d « The mangusteen, the most delicate fruit in the world; the pride of the Malay islands.”—Marsden. e “ A delicious kind of apricot, called by the Persians tokm-ek-shems, signif}r- ing sun’s seed.”—Description of Persia. f “ Sweetmeats, in a crystal cup, consisting of rose-leaves in conserve, with lemon of Visna cherry, orange flowers,” &c.—Bussell• g“ Antelopes cropping the fresh berries of Erac.”—The Moallakat, Poem of Tarafa.828 L A L L A ROOKK, And urns of porcelain from that isle,8 Sunk underneath the Indian flood, Whence oft the lucky diver brings Vases to grace the halls of kings. Wines, too, of every clime and hue, Around their liquid lustre threw;— Amber Rosolli,b—the bright dew From vineyards of the Green-Sea gushing,® And Shiraz wine, that richly ran As if that jewel, large and rare, The ruby for which Kublai-Khan Offered a city’s wealth/1 was blushing Melted within the goblets there! And amply Selim quaffs of each. And seems resolved the flood shall reach His inward heart,—shedding around A genial deluge, as they run, That soon shall leave no spot undrowned, For Love to rest his wings upon. a Mauri-ga-Sima, an island near Formosa, supposed to have been sunk in the sea for the crimes of its inhabitants. The vessels which the fishermen and divers bring up from it are sold at an immense price in China and Japan.— See Kempfcr. t Persian Tales. c The white wine of Kishma. d “ The King of Zeilan is said to have the very finest ruby that was ever seen. Kublai-Khan sent and offered the value of a city for it, but the King answered he would not give it for the treasure of the world.’’—Marco PoIpTHE LI»H T OF THE HARAM. 329 He little knew how well the boy Can float upon the goblet’s streams, Lighting them with his smile of joy ;— As bards have seen him in their dreams, Down the blue Ganges laughing glide Upon a rosy lotus wreath,a Catching new lustre from the tide That with his image shone beneath. But what are cups, without the aid Of song to speed them as they flow ? And see—a lovely Georgian maid, With all the bloom, the freshened glow Of her own country maidens’ looks, When warm they rise from Teflis’ brooks,b— And with an eye, whose restless ray, Full, floating, dark—0, he, who knows • His heart is weak, of Heaven should pray To guard him from such eyes as those!— With a voluptuous wildness flings Her snowy hand across the strings Of a syrinda,c and thus sings: — a The Indians feign that Cupid was first seen floating down the Ganges oc the Nymphaea Nelumbo.—See Pennant. b Teflis is celebraced for its natural warm baths.—See Ebn Haukai. c « The Indian Syrinda, or guitar.”—Symez. 2 e 2330 L A L L A ROOKH. Come hither, come hither; oy night and by day, We linger in pleasures that never are gone ; Like the waves of the summer, as one dies away, Another as sweet and as shining comes on. And the love that is o’er, in expiring, gives birth To a new one as warm, as unequalled in bliss; And, 0, if there be an Elysium on earth, It is this, it is this.a Here maidens are sighing, and fragrant their sigh As the flower of the Amra just oped by a bee;b And precious their tears as that rain from the sky,c Which turns into pearls as it falls in the sea. 0! think what the kiss and the smile must be worth When the sigh and the tear are so perfect in blis~, And own, if there be an Elysium on earth, It is this, it is this. Here sparkles the nectar, that, hallowed by love, Could draw down those angels of old from their sphere, a “ Around the exterior of the Dewan Khafs (a building of Shah All urn’s) in the cornice are the following lines, in letters of gold upon a ground of white inaible—(If there he a paradise upon earth, it is this, it is this. ”— Franklin. b “ Delightful are the flowers of the Amra trees on the mountain tops, wliile the murmuring Dees pursue their voluptuous toil.”—Song of Jayadcva. c “ The Nisan, or drops of spring rain, which they believe to prouuoe pearl? if they fall into shells.”—Richardson.THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 33i Who for wine of this earth a left the fountains above, And forgot heaven’s stars for the eyes we have here. And, blessed with the odour our goblet gives forth, What Spirit the sweets cf his Eden would miss? For, 0 ! if there be an Elysium on earth. It is this, it is tins. The Georgian’s song was scarcely mute, When the same measure, sound for sound, Was caught up by anoiher lute, And so divinely bicathed around, That all stood hushed and wondering, And turned and looked into the air, As if they thought to see the wing Of Israfil,15 the Angel, there ;— So powerfully on every soul That new, enchanted measure stole. While now a voice, sweet as the note Of the charmed lute, was heard to float Along its chords, and so entwine Its sounds with theirs, that none knew whether The voice or lute was most divine, So wondrously they went together:— » For an account of the share which wine had in the fall of the angels, see Mariti b The Angel of Music. See note, p. 274.332 L A L L A ROOKH, There’s a bliss beyond all that the minstrel has told, When two, that are linked in one heavenly tie, Willi heart never changing, and brow never cold, Love on through all ills, and love on till they die! One hour of a passion so sacred is worth Whole ages of heartless and wandering bliss; And, 0! if there be an Elysium on earth, It is this, it is this. ’Twas not the air, ’twas not the words, But that deep magic in the chords And in the lips, that gave such power As Music knew not till that hour. At once a hundred voices said, “ It is the masked Arabian maid !” While Selim, who had felt the strain Deepest of any, and had lain Some minutes rapt, as in a.trance, After the fairy sounds were o’er, Too inly touched for utterance, • Now motioned with his hand for more: Fly to the desert, fly with me: Our Arab tents are rude for thee;THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 333 But, 0 ! the choice what heart can doubt, Of tents with love, or thrones without ? Our rocks are rough, but smiling there Th’ acacia waves her yellow hair, Lonely and sweet, nor loved the less For flowering in a wilderness. Our sands are bare, but down their slope The silvery-footed antelope As gracefully and gayly springs As o’er the marble courts of kings. Then come—thy Arab maid will be The loved and lone acacia-tree, The antelope, whose feet shall bless With their light sound thy loneliness. 0! there are looks and tones that dart An instant sunshine through the heart,— As if the soul that minute caught Some treasure it through life had sought •- As if the very lips and eyes, Predestined to have all our sighs, And never he forgot again, Sparkled and spoke before us then!334 LALLA R 0 0 K II. So came thy every glance and tone, When first on me they breathed and shone ; New, as if brought from other spheres, Yet welcome as if loved for years. Then fly with me,—if thou hast known No other flame, nor falsely thrown A gem away, that thou hadst sworn Should ever in thy heart be worn. Come, if the love thou hast for me Is pure and fresh as mine for thee,— Fresh as the fountain under ground, When first 5tis by the lapwing found.a But if for me thou dost forsake Some other maid, and rudely break Her worshipped image from its base, To give to me the ruined place;— Then, fare thee well—I’d rather make My bower upon some icy lake When thawing suns begin to shine, Than trust to love so false as thine! a The Hudhud, or Lapwing, is supposed to have the power of discovering water under ground.THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM, 335 There was a pathos in this lay, That, ev’n without enchantment’s art, Would instantly have found its way Deep into Selim’s burning heart; But, breathing, as it did, a tone To earthly lutes and lips unknown; With every chord fresh from the touch Of Music’s Spirit,—’twas too much! Starting, he dashed away the cup,— Which, all the time of this sweet air, His hand had held, untasted, up, As if ’twere fixed by magic there,— And naming her, so long unnamed. So long unseen, wildly exclaimed, “ 0 Nourmahal ! 0 Nourmaiial ! “ Hadst thou but sung this witching strain, “I could forget—forgive thee all, “ And never leave those eyes again.” The mask is off—the charm is wrought— And Selim to his heart has caught, In blushes more than ever bright, His Nourmahal, his Haram’s Light! And well do vanished frowns enhance The charm of every brightened glance ; And dearer seems each dawning smile For having lost its light awhile :336 lALLA R O 0 K H. And, happier now for all her sighs, As on his arm her head reposes, She whispers him, with laughing eyes, ** Remember, love, the Feast of Roses’”I' A L L A ROO K II. *197 Fadladeen, at the conclusion of this light rhapsody, took occasion to sum up his opinion of the young Cashmerian’s poetry,—of which, he trusted, they had that evening heard the last. Having recapitulated the epithets “frivolous”— “inharmonious”—“nonsensical,” he proceeded to say that, viewing it in the most favourable light, it resembled one of those Maldivian boats, to which the Princess had alluded in the relation of her dream,a—a slight, gilded thing, sent adrift without rudder or ballast, and with nothing but vapid sweets and faded flowers on board. The profusion, indeed, of flowers and birds, which this Poet had ready on all occasions,—not to mention dews, gems, &c.,—was a most oppressive kind of opulence to his hearers; and had the unlucky effect of giving to his style all the glitter of the flower-garden without its method, and all the flutter of the aviary without its song. In addition to this, he chose his subjects badly, and was always most inspired by the worst * ; i * . \ parts of them. The charms of paganism, the merits of rebel- lion,—these were the themes honoured with his particular enthusiasm; and, in the poem just recited, one of his most palatable passages was in praise of that beverage of the a See p. 235.339 LALLA ROOKH. Unfaithful, wine;—“ being, perhaps/5 said he, relaxing into a smile, as conscious of his own character in the Haram on this point, “ one of those bards, whose fancy owes all its illumination to the grape, like that painted porcelain/ so curious and so rare, whose images are only visible when liquor is poured into it.” Upon the whole, it was his opinion, from the specimens which they had heard, and which, he begged to say, were the most tiresome part of the journey, that—whatever other merits this well-dressed young gentleman might possess—poetry was by no means his proper avocation: “ and indeed,” concluded the critic, “ from his fondness for flowers and for birds. I would venture to suggest that a florist or a bird-catcher is a much more suitable calling for him than a poet.” They had now begun to ascend those barren moun- tains which separates Cashmere from the rest of India; and as the heats were intolerable, and the time of their encampments limited to the few hours necessary for refreshment and repose, there was an end to all theii delightful evenings, and Lalla Rookh saw no more of a “ The Chinese had formerly the art of painting on the sides of porcelain vessels fish and other animals, which were only perceptible when the vessel was full of some 'liquor. They call this species Kia-tsin, that is, azure is put impress, on account of the manner in which the azure is laid on.”—“ They are every now and then trying to recover the art of this magical painting, but to no pur* pise.”—Dunn.LALLA ROOKH. 339 Feramorz. She now felt that her short dream of happi- ness was over, and that she had nothing but the recol- lection of its few blissful hours, like the one draught of sweet water that serves the camel across the wilderness, to be her heart’s refreshment during the dreary waste of life that was before her. The blight that had fallen upon her spirits soon found its way to her cheek, and her ladies saw with regret—though not without some suspicion of the cause—that the beauty of their mistress, of which they wrere almost as proud as of their own, was fast vanishing away at the very moment of all when she had most need of it. What must the King of Bucharia feel, when, instead of the lively and beautiful Lalla Rookh, whom the poets of Delhi had described as more perfect than the divinest images in the house of Azor,a he should receive a pale and inanimate victim, upon whose cheek neither health nor pleasure bloomed, and from whose eyes Love had fled,—to hide himself in her heart? If any thing could have charmed away the melan- choly of her spirits, it would have been the fresh airs and enchanting scenery of that Valley, which the Persians so justly called the Unequalled.b But neither the coolness of a An eminent carver of idols, said in the Koran to be father to Abraham* * I have such a lovely idol as is not to be met with in the house of Azor.”-— Hafiz. b Kachmire be Nazeer_Forster.340 I ALLA ROOKH. its atmosphere, so luxurious after toiling up those bare and burning mountains,—neither the splendour of the minarets and pagodas, that shone out from the depth of its woods, nor the grottoes, hermitages, and miraculous fountains/ which make every spot of that region holy ground,—• neither the countless waterfalls, that rush into the Valley from all those high and romantic mountains that encircle it, nor the fair city on the Lake, whose houses, roofed with flowers/ appeared at a distance like one vast and variegated parterre:—not all these wonders and glories of the most lovely country under the sun could steal her heart for a minute from those sad thoughts, which but darkened and grew bitterer every step she advanced. a“The pardonable superstition of the sequestered inhabitants has multi- plied the places of worship of Mahadeo, of Beschan, and of Brama. All Cash- mere is holy land, and miraculous fountains abound.”—Major RenneVs Memoirs of a Map of Hindostan. Jehanguire mentions “a fountain in Cashmere called Tirnagh, which signi- fies a snake; probably because some large snake had formerly been seen there.” —“ During the lifetime of my father, I went twice to this fountain, which ia about twenty coss from the city of Cashmere. The vestiges of places of wor- ship and sanctity are to be traced without number amongst the ruins and the caves, which are interspersed in its neighbourhood.”—Toozelc Jehangery—v. Asiat. Misc. vol. ii. There is another account of Cashmere, by Abul-Fazil, the author of the Ayin-Acbaree, “ who,” says Major Rennel, “ appears to have caught some of the enthusiasm of the valley, by his description of the holy places in it.” b “ On a standing roof of wood is laid a covering of fine earth, which shelters the building from the great quantity of snow that falls in the winter season. This fence communicates an equal warmth in winter, as a refreshing coolness in the summer season, when the tops of the houses, which are planted with a variety of flowers, exhibit at a distance the spacious view of a beautifully checkered parterre.”—Forster.L ALLA ROOKIi. 341 The gay pomps and processions that met her upon her entrance into the Valley, and the magnificence with which the roads all along were decorated, did honour to the taste and gallantry of the young King. It was night when they approached the city, and, for the last two miles, they had passed under arches, thrown from hedge to hedge, festooned with only those rarest roses from which the Attar Gul, more precious than gold, is distilled, and illuminated in rich and fanciful forms with lanterns of the triple-coloured tortoise-shell of Pegu.a Sometimes, from a dark wood by the side of the road, a display of fireworks would break out, so sudden and so brilliant, that a Brahmin might fancy he beheld that grove, in whose purple shade the God of Battles was born, bursting into a flame at the moment of his birth;—while, at other times, a quick and playful irradiation continued to brighten all the fields and gardens by which they passed, forming a line of dancing lights along the horizon; like the meteors of the north as they are seen by those hunters,b who pursue the white and blue foxes on the confines of the Icy Sea. These arches and fireworks delighted the Ladies of a “Two hundred slaves there are, who have no other office than to hunt the woods and marshes for triple-coloured tortoises for the King’s Vivary. Of the shells of these also lanterns are made.”—Vincent, le Blanc’s Travels. b For a description of the Aurora Borealis as it appears to these hunters, v Encyclopcedia. 2 f 2342 LALLA ROOKH. the Princess exceedingly; and, with their usual good logic, they deduced from his taste for illuminations, that the King of Bucharia would make the most exemplary husband imaginable. Nor, indeed, could Lalla Rookh herself help feeling the kindness and splendour with which the young bridegroom welcomed her;—but she also felt how painful is the gratitude, which kindness from those we cannot love excites; and that their best blandishments come over the heart with all that chilling and deadly sweetness, which we can fancy in the cold, odoriferous winda that is to blow over this earth in the last days. The marriage was fixed for the morning after her arrival, when she was, for the first time, to be presented to the monarch in that Imperial Palace beyond the lake, called the Shalimar. Though never before had a night of more wakeful and anxious thought been passed in the Happy Valley, yet, when she rose in the morning, and her Ladies came around her, to assist in the adjustment of the bridal ornaments, they thought they had never seen her look half so beautiful. What she had lost of the bloom and radiancy of her charms was more than made up by a This wind, which is to blow from Syria Damascene, is, according to the Mahometans, one of the signs of the Last Day’s approach. Another of the signs is, “ Great distress in the world, so that a man when he passes by another’s grave shall say, Would to God I were in his place!”— Sale’s Preliminary Discourse.LALLA ROOKH. o o 43 that intellectual expression, that soul beaming forth from the eyes, which is worth all the rest of loveliness. When they had tinged her fingers with the Henna leaf, and placed upon her brow a small coronet of jewels, of the shape worn by the ancient Queens of Bucharia, they flung over her head the rose-coloured bridal veil, and she pro- ceeded to the barge that was to convey her across the lake ;—first kissing, with a mournful look, the little amulet of cornelian, which her father at parting had hung about her neck. The morning was as fresh and fair as the maid on whose nuptials it rose, and the shining lake, all covered with boats, the minstrels playing upon the shores of the islands, and the crowded summer-houses on the green hills around, with shawls and banners waving from their roofs, presented such a picture of animated rejoicing, as only she, who was the object of it all, did not feel with transport. To Lalla Rookh alone it was a melancholy pageant; nor could she have even borne to look upon the scene, were it not for a hope that, among the crowds around, she might once more perhaps catch a glimpse of Feramorz. So much was her imagination haunted by this thought, that there was scarcely an islet or boat she passed on the way, at which her heart did not flutter with the momentary fancy that he was there. Happy, in her eyes, the humblest slave upon whom the light of his deal344 LALLA R 0 O K H. looks fell!—In the barge immediately after the Princess sat Fadladeen, with his silken curtains thrown widely apart, that all might have the benefit of his august pre- sence, and with his head full of the speech he was to deliver to the King, “concerning Feramorz, and litera- ture, and the Chabuk, as connected therewith.’5 They now had entered the canal which leads from the Lake to the splendid domes and saloons of the Shalimar, and went gliding on through the gardens that ascended from each bank, full of flowering shrubs that made the air all perfume; while from the middle of the canal rose jets of water, smooth and unbroken, to such a dazzling height, that they stood like tall pillars of diamond in the sunshine. After sailing under the arches of various saloons, they at length arrived at the last and most mag- nificent, where the monarch awaited the coming of his bride ; and such was the agitation of her heart and frame, that it was with difficulty she could walk up the marble steps, which were covered with cloth of gold for her ascent from the barge. At the end of the hall stood two thrones, as precious as the Cerulean Thrones of Cool- burga,a on one of which sat Aliris, the youthful King of a “ On Mahommed Shaw’s return to Koolburga, (the capital of Dekkan,) he made a great festival, and mounted this throne with much pomp and mag- nificence, calling it Firozeh or Cerulean. I have heard some old persons, who taw the throne Firozeh in the reign of Sultan Mamood Rhamenee, describeLALLA ROOKH. 345 Bucharia, and on the other was, in a few minutes, to be placed the most beautiful Princess in the world. Imme- diately upon the entrance of Lalla Rookh into the saloon, the monarch descended from his throne to meet her; but scarcely had he time to take her hand in his, when she screamed with surprise, and fainted at his feet. It was Feramorz himself that stood before her!—Feramorz was, himself, the Sovereign of Bucharia, who in this disguise had accompanied his young bride from Delhi, and, having won her love as an humble minstrel, now amply deserved to enjoy it as a King. The consternation of Fadi.adeen at this discovery was, for the moment, almost pitiable. But change of opinion is a resource too convenient in courts for this experienced courtier not to have learned to avail himself of it. His criticisms were all, of course, recanted instantly; he was seized with an admiration for the King’s verses, as unbounded as, he begged him to believe, it was disinterested ; and the follow- ing week saw him in possession of an additional place, it. They say that it was in length nine feet, and three in breadth; made ebony, covered with plates of pure gold, and set with precious stones of immense value. Every prince of the house of Bhamenee, who possessed this throne, made a point of adding to it some rich stones; so that when, in the reign ot Sultan Mamood, it was taken to pieces, to remove some of the jewels to be set in vases and cups, the jewellers valued it at one corore of oons, (nearly four millions sterling.) I learned also that it was called Firozeh from being partly enamelled of a sky-blue colour, which was in time totally concealed by the uv tu- ber of jewels.”—Ferishta.346 LALLA ROOKH. swearing by all the Saints of Islam that never had there existed so great a poet as the Monarch Aliris, and moreover, ready to prescribe his favourite regimen of the Chabuk for every man, woman, and child, that dared to think otherwise. Of the happiness of the King and Queen of Bucharia, after such a beginning, there can be but little doubt; and, among the lesser symptoms, it is recorded of Lalla Rookh, that, to the day of her death, in memory of their delightful journey, she never called the King by any other name than Feramorz. THE EKD. i * • * - •  * t Jfl * * am: (: • 'Z *V ■ <► Ki+s-'^