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GULZAR; 
 
 OK, 
 
 THE ROSE-BOWER 
 
 A TALE OF PERSIA. 
 
 BY JOHN S. REID. 
 
 " With tlie flower-crowned Sprin;?, 1 sing the Summer Rose. * * * * Ever 
 prateful to the Muses, liow sweet to )iim who travels through the briery dells! 
 How sweet to him who plucks it with gentle hand, to cherish it in liis bosom, who 
 lljllitly raises to his lip the flower of love ! It is pleasant on the roof, and on the 
 joyous table, and to the feast of Bacchus. What can be without tlie Rose !" 
 
 Anac. On. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 SAMUEL TURNER, CHARLES B. DAVIS, AND 
 
 G. A. & J. P. CHAPMAN, I.ndianapolis, Ia : 
 
 MORGAN & Co., Cincinnati, Ohio. 
 
 1845. 
 
f 5 at^^ 
 
 Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year one 
 thousand eight hundred and forty-five, by 
 
 JOHN S. REID, 
 in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, 
 within and for the District of Indiana. 
 
 5-/ f fe'^ 
 
 o4 
 
 G. A. It J. P. CHAPMAN, PRINTERS, 
 
 INDIANAPOLIS. INDIANA. 
 
GULZAR; 
 
 THE ROSE-BOWER, 
 
 Towards the close of the reign of the celebrated Aq\ 
 Mohammed, Shah of Persia, an aged Dervise presented 
 himself at the gate of the harem of the King, at Tehe- 
 i-an, and requested to be admitted to the presence of the 
 incomparable Princess Gulzau, favorite daughter of the 
 Shah, who was then pining away on a bed of sickness, 
 baffling the skill of the most learned Physicians of the 
 Kingdom. 
 
 In vain had the most infallible medicines, the most 
 precious gums, and the most delicious perfumes been 
 mixed and mingled for the Princess's recovery — in vain 
 had the prayers of the most sacred Imans and Mollahs 
 ascended before the altar of the Prophet: the sear and 
 yellow leaf of Autumn had fallen from the tree, the 
 snows and storms of Winter had swept around the bower 
 of the bulbul, and the bloom had long since fled from the 
 rose. But the leaf fell not from the tree unheeded, nor 
 did the bloom pass away from the rose: with the depart- 
 ure of the rose the light of her eye faded, and with the 
 fall of the leaf the hopes of the Princess passed away. 
 
6 Cl'LZAU, OK THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 It was now that season of the year when all nature 
 seemed ready to burst forth into joy and gladness. Win- 
 ter had fled, and the young buds were putting forth their 
 tender leaves, the Earth was robing herself in her mantle 
 of green, the song of the bulbul was heard among the 
 young rose-leaves, the laugh of happiness came echoing 
 along the clear breast of the river; but all brought not 
 the smile of joy to the eye of the fading Gulzar, nor 
 the bloom of health to the cheek of the daughter of Aga. 
 
 The heart of the Shah grew sad as he witnessed the 
 decline of his beautiful and favorite child — the hope of 
 his old age — the daughter of his loved and loving Fa- 
 TiMA — and he ordered proclamation to be made over all 
 his Kingdom, announcing the sickness of the Princess, 
 and offering a reward equal to the ransom of a Prince, 
 to him who should restore to health and hap})iness his 
 only child. No sooner had the proclamation been made, 
 than from afar came the most renowned Doctors of 
 Iran, from the burning sands of Kirman, and the frozen 
 mountains of Tartary — from the East, North, West and 
 South came the young and the old to behold the weaning 
 Star of Teheran, fondly hoping that some one of them 
 might be so fortunate as to restore to joy and happiness 
 the lovely daughter of the King. 
 
 But in vain did the Magi kneel before the sacred fire 
 of Attar-Quedah — in vain were the most precious pas- 
 sages of the Al-Koran placed beneath the pillow of the 
 Princess, to invite balmy and soothing slumbers — in vain 
 did the aged talk wisdom, and the young dance to the 
 sound of music: like a sweet flower, blasted by the mil- 
 dew of Winter, the once lovely Gi:i//.ar now lay en- 
 tranced in the dull, lone dream of Death. 
 
 Spring had almost leaped into the arms of Summer — 
 
UULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. / 
 
 the air was balmy with tlie perfume of flowers — the sun 
 had slept in the vineyard, and the young grapes were 
 blushing with beauty — the morning had kissed the rose 
 — and the bulbul had made her nest among its crimson 
 and odorous leaves: yet no bloom played across the 
 cheek of Aga's daughter — no smile of happiness lighted 
 , up the eye of the Flower of the Ilarem. 
 
 Days had passed away since the last of the learned 
 Physicians of Iran had departed, without accomplishing 
 the recovery of the Princess ; and nothing was heard or 
 seen in the sick-chamber, save the noiseless step of the 
 faithful Maida, and the sorrowing Mohammed, as he 
 gazed on the pale face of his child. At length the alarm 
 given by the Dervise, at the grand gate of the harem, 
 reached the ear of Aga, who demanded the name and 
 import of the visitor, the which being informed of, he 
 commanded him to be conducted to a chamber until he 
 should demand his attendance. 
 
 The Shah received the Dervise, seated on a magnifi- 
 cent carpet, in the Hall of Audience, surrounded by the 
 great Officers of State, who, like statues, moved not, nor 
 gave sign of life. Youths, with embroidered dresses and 
 curiously wrought spangled turbans, stood in the dis- 
 tance, like winged messengers, eager to execute the com- 
 mands of the King; whilst golden vessels, adorned with 
 the most precious gems, and filled with the richest per- 
 fumes — rose-water, flowers, and wine — exhaled their 
 odors. 
 
 After bowing his head three times until his beard 
 (which was white as wool) almost touched the carpet, 
 the Dervise thus addressed the Shah : 
 
 " Most noble Shah, Aga, Sultan of the Indies, Lord of 
 the Desert, and Governor of the World, Humza, the son 
 
8 
 
 GL'LZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 of MiRZA, has seen thy proclamation, and obeys its man- 
 date. From afar I have come to bring consolation to 
 the heart of the afflicted, and to restore to life and love- 
 liness the Princess Gulzar, the once bright and beautiful 
 Star of Teheran." 
 
 To which address the Shah delivered a most gracious 
 answer, ordering the Dervise to be conducted to the 
 sick-chamber of the Princess, forbearing to question him 
 on his skill in medicine, there being something so noble 
 and commanding in the carriage and deportment of the 
 Dervise, that banished at once all fear or suspicion from 
 the breast of the King. 
 
 HuMZA, after threading his way through various cham- 
 bers, perfumed with the sweetest flowers and gums, led 
 by the faithful Maida, was ushered into the sick-cham- 
 ber of the Princess, whom he found reclining on a couch 
 of snowy whiteness, covered with silks of the finest tex- 
 ture. Her thin pale hand lay languidly and motionless 
 on the silken coverlid — her cheek mocked, in its white- 
 ness, the pillow on which it rested — no beam of gladness 
 played athwart her palid forehead, nor did her eye emit 
 one ray of hope: all was sad, silent, and lonely. 
 
 HuMZA moved gently to her couch, and took her pale 
 hand in his own. It was cold and damp, as if the dews 
 of death had fallen upon it. Beckoning to her faithful 
 nurse, he requested that the window of the chamber 
 might l)e opened, so that the fresh breath of Nature 
 might fan the wan cheek of the invalid. It was done; 
 and as the vernal breeze played over her palid yet lovely 
 features, she gently opened her eyes, and a faint smile 
 played or seemed to flit across her brow, and her lips 
 motioned, as if to say she felt grateful. Then all was 
 still again — still as the slumber of the grave. 
 
OULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 9 
 
 All that night the Dervise sat by the couch of his 
 patient, watching each symptom of her disease. No 
 sound of revehy was heard in the halls of Shah Aga — 
 the stars of night came out in their beauty, studding the 
 azure canopy like jewels on a velvet covering — the 
 moon, with her pale chastened beam, rose on the un- 
 clouded sky, silvering the towers and minarets of the 
 harem — scarcely a breath of wind stirred the orange 
 blossoms that festooned around the bower of the Prin- 
 cess — all was silent, save the notes of the bulbul, breath- 
 ing his deathless love among the young rose-leaves, and 
 the cries of the Muezzin, calling the faithful to prayers. 
 
 But as soon as El-Fagir lit the morn, the Dervise 
 awoke the nurse of Gui//ar, who brought him water 
 from a crystal fountain, with a part of which he 
 sprinkled the temples of the Princess, awakening her 
 from her death-like slumber. He then took from his 
 bosom a small phial, full of a medicine almost infallible 
 in its operation, and having poured a few drops into a 
 golden goblet, in which was a part of the water of the 
 fountain, well pleased, he saw it foam and hiss as if under 
 the fires of Attar-Quedah. He then took a ring from 
 his finger, set with a flaming ruby of the most dazzling 
 brightness, and put it in the boiling goblet, which imme- 
 diately became calm and noiseless, as if by the hand of 
 enchantment. Gently raising the fair patient in the 
 arms of Maida, he presented to her pale lips the charmed 
 chalice, which, when she had drank, he placed the ring 
 on her finger, requesting that it should not be taken oflf 
 until he gave leave. He then replaced the Princess, 
 almost lifeless, on her silken couch, and retired for a few 
 hours to rest in his chamber. The sun was mid-way in 
 the heavens by the time the Princess awoke from her 
 2 
 
10 GULZAR, OR TIIF, ROSE-ROWER. 
 
 slumber, during which period a material improvement 
 had taken place in lier disease. Her hands had lost their 
 cold and dewy chilliness, and her pulse beat (although 
 still feebly) with a more healthy action; a slight shade, 
 like the first blush of morn, played across her wan cheek, 
 and a dream, as of happiness, tlitted athwart her pale 
 brow. As she wistfully gazed around and feebly called 
 on the faithful Maida, her eye met that of the Dervise, 
 who was standing anxiously by her couch, and for a 
 moment hung, as it were, in fond remembrance, as on 
 something it had once known; but gradually the heavy 
 eye-lids closed over those once beautiful, now dreamy 
 orbs, and a long deep sigh burst from the breast of the 
 lovely Flower of Iran. 
 
 The purple star of evening saw the aged Hnmza 
 watching by the bedside of the Princess; and when 
 midnight came, with her thousand lamps, the Dervise 
 was found tiiere. Morning came; and when the first 
 beam illumined the horizon, and the prayers of the 
 faithful ascended, like sweet incense, to the throne of 
 Allah, the faithful nurse drew from the fountain a goblet 
 of crystaline liquid, and brought it to the Dervise, who 
 again mixed the charmed draught, the which being 
 drank by the Princess, she fell into a balmy slumber, 
 and her dreams were dreams of happiness — of days that 
 were past — pleasing, yet painful — but such as memory 
 loves to linger upon, and which the heart of youth 
 fondly calls from the shades of the dreamy past. 
 
 When the Princxss awoke, she had a slight fever, 
 which gave color to her cheek and brilliancy to her 
 eye; but not more so than what was expected by the 
 Dervise. But so buoyant were her spirits, that she 
 deemed herself almost well again, yet scarcely knew 
 
OULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 11 
 
 why she wished to recover; for hers was the sickness 
 arising from bUghted hopes and a broken heart. Yet 
 she again wished to Hve; the young heart loves not the 
 dreary tomb; it loves to dream of happiness — to carrol 
 with the bird, in the green wood — to range with the 
 wild bee, from tlower to llower; but the cypress shade, 
 and the dark lonely chambers of death, it loves not to 
 enter. That evening saw the Shah a joyful watcher by 
 the couch of his daughter; and with a heart glowing 
 with gratitude to the Dervise, for the assistance rendered 
 his child, he named him Chief Physician of the Palace, 
 and requested that his food should be served from the 
 royal table; and all Teheran rejoiced in the hope of the 
 Princess's recovery. 
 
 It has been said by an ancient writer, that the death 
 of a skilful physician was of more loss to an army, than 
 the loss of a whole troop; but O, how much more valu- 
 able appeared the humble Dervise in the eyes of the 
 Shah, than ten thousand soldiers! Some thought him 
 an Angel from Heaven, arrayed in the garb of frail 
 humanity, sent by the Prophet, to rescue from death the 
 favorite Princess; while others thought he was the im- 
 mortal Bocrat, who had been raised from the dead, after 
 a sleep of two thousand years; for although his beard 
 was white as wool, and his locks silvered with the snows 
 of age, his step was the step of youth, and his eye bright 
 as the star of morning. 
 
 Calm and dignified he met the approach of the mighty 
 Monarch of Iran, whose smile was the path to honor, 
 and whose frown was the token of death. 
 
 Aga was a man of blood. His early youth was passed 
 in captivity, during the reign of the celebrated and re- 
 nowned Kurreem Khan, as one of the hostages given 
 
12 GULZAR, OU THE nOSE-BOWEU. 
 
 for the fidelity of tlie Kujur tribe, of wiiich he was the 
 son of tlieir lale Chief, Mohammed Hussien Khan. That 
 unfeehng sternness with which he received every person 
 that came under his notice, may be attributed to his 
 early imprisonment. Secluded from the society of his 
 relatives, without possessing the sympathies of his com- 
 panions, he became haughty and morose to those placed 
 under his charge; whilst inwardly he was training his 
 mind in patience, self-possession, and dissimulation — sup- 
 pressing his feelings whenever they would interfere with 
 his interests — so that, when he had secured tiie crown 
 of Persia, he brought a mind well schooled in the diplo- 
 macy of that court, to wield the sceptre with firmness 
 which his bold hand had plucked from the grasp of his 
 rival, LooFT Ali, chief of the Zund Tribe. A keen 
 observer of men, his policy was to conquer either by 
 force or stratagem — the love of power was the ruling 
 passion — avarice and revenge made up the balance of 
 his heart. No one doubted his bravery, yet he seldom 
 placed himself in situations where his courage was dis- 
 played. The emphatic remark of one of his Ministers 
 gives a key to his character: "The Monarch's head never 
 left work for his hands." In a word, he was a Tyrant. 
 
 It was now the seventh night since IIimza had waited 
 on the Princess; and this being the night of her nativity, 
 when the star of her destiny would show whether she 
 would finally recover or not, the heart of Ac.v throbbed 
 anxiously for his child; and fondly would he have 
 watched with the Dervise till the hour of danger was 
 passed, and marked, with his own eye, the rising, culmi- 
 nating, and decline of the Iieavenly orbs. But IIimza 
 calmly but firmly forbade him: it was a mystery tliat 
 no eve save those of the gifted could witness; the hand 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 13 
 
 that would either save the Princess or consign her to the 
 cave of Al-Barzak, could not be seen by one whose 
 hands were stained with blood. 
 
 All that night the Princess slept not. Her eyes were 
 firmly fixed on the form of the Dervise, who sat alone 
 by the window of her chamber, gazing intently on the 
 heavens. Clouds had obscured the sky — the stars came 
 not forth in their beauty — and the moon looked pale and 
 languid; the notes of the bulbul were not heard among 
 the roses, but the wind moaned sorrowfully among the 
 cypress leaves. Anxiously watched Humza for the star 
 of her nativity, but it came not. The Muezzen had pro- 
 claimed the hour of midnight from the highest tower of 
 the Harem, and a prayer was breathed for the sins of 
 men. 
 
 All was again silent; and with a soul agitated with 
 hope and fear, Humza knelt before the starry host, and 
 his heart broke forth in prayer, like the outpouring of a 
 fountain, for the recovery of the child of Aga. Beside 
 him knelt a fair form, with robes as white as the snows 
 of Dunwamund ; her lips were red as the wine grapes of 
 Casbin; her cheek blooming, and fresh as the rose of 
 Jenan-nile; and her voice echoed the response of his 
 heart. Turning himself quickly round, to know who 
 dared join him in the dreadful service, or who, with un- 
 holy eyes, gazed on the mystery of the stars, he saw 
 beside him Gulzar, smiling in beauty — lovely as one of 
 the Houris of Paradise, who await the Faithful in the 
 heavenly world. 
 
 The prayers of Humza had been heard before the 
 throne of Allah, and a Zephyr was sent from the Foun- 
 tain of Health to fan the pale cheek of the Princess, 
 (whilst the prayers of Humza ascended), breathing new 
 
14 OITLZAU, on TIIF, ROSK-ROWKIl. 
 
 life nnd loveliness into her feeble franne; and, like a 
 snow-wreath ironi the mountain, she slipped from her 
 silken couch, and kneeling by the side of the pious Der- 
 vise, breathed a ])rayer of gratitude to that Gracious 
 Power who had again restored her to health and beauty 
 — rescuing her from the hand of death. The clouds of 
 night had passed away, and the stars came out in their 
 beauty; but brightest among that galaxy the Star of 
 GuLZAii was seen glittering in the cerulean — the Angel 
 of Death had stretched his fatal wings and fled far away 
 from Teheran, and the heart of Shah Aga was glad that 
 the hour of danger was past. 
 
 Morn came forth in all her glory, kissing the dews 
 from the flowers and the mist from the mountains, and 
 awakening to joy and rejoicing the inmates of the 
 Palace, for the recovery of the Princess. 
 
 HuwiaA, the gifted Humza, was lauded to the skies; 
 and a splendid entertainment was given by the King, in 
 honor of the aged Dervise, and to celebrate the recovery 
 of his favorite Gulzar. 
 
 Proclamations were issued, under the broad seal of the 
 Crown, inviting the Princes, the Nobles, and all the in- 
 habitants of Persia to attend at Teheran on the first day 
 of the new moon, and celebrate the festival to be given 
 by Shah Aga, the Father of his People. And they did 
 come: Khusistan was there, with all her beauty; and 
 Fars sent her children of song; the Prince of Kerman, 
 he who claimed the hand of the Princess, came with his 
 Warriors of the Desert, whose steeds were swifter than 
 the winds of Samiel; Ma/.undereen was there; and 
 Astrabad sent forth her jMnuntain Chiefs; whilst Adjune 
 and Khornssan were not behind. All was mirth and 
 revelry in llio halls of Shah Aga — all was joy and glad- 
 
GULZAK, OR THE ROSE-nOWER. 15 
 
 ness in the Palace of the King. Yet amidst that rout 
 and revelry — amidst that mirth and gladness — the eye 
 of the Princess would anxiously wander over the float- 
 ing and waving plumes of the many noble Chieftains 
 who came to do her homage, in hopes that she might 
 discover the heron plume of her favorite, Abbas Mirza, 
 but it wandered in vain. "Thou hast deceived me, 
 Father PIumza," said Gulzar; "Mirza lives not, or he 
 would be here. I know his noble, his daring nature: 
 the blood of a Zund circulates in his veins; and he 
 would dare my father's anger for my sake, were he alive. 
 Thou hast deceived me," said the Princess, and a tear 
 stood in the bright eye of Gulzar, as she turned away 
 from the Dervise, who was standing by her side. " Weep 
 not, fair lady," said the Dervise, "Abbas Mirza has 
 pledged his bright honor that ere this festival closes he 
 will join our liappiness. Bockharra's wilds are distant, 
 and the mountains of Astrabad are high and dangerous: 
 weep not, dearest Gulzar," said Humza, in a tone so 
 full of love and tenderness that the blood leaped quick 
 to the heart of the Princess, covering her face with 
 blushes, and her eye rested wistfully on the aged form 
 of the Dervise, who stood unmoved before her. " Thy 
 voice," said she, "reminds me of the voice of Mirza, 
 but thy locks are the locks of age. He was graceful as 
 a pine in the forest, and his step light as the deer on the 
 hill: thou art old, and thy form is that of age; yet speak 
 again, Humza, as thou hast spoken; the tones of thy 
 voice were pleasant to the ear of Gulzar." And as 
 she spoke, she leaned heavily on the arm of the Dervise, 
 and turned aside from the gay and joyous band that 
 stood before them. 
 
 Seated on a balcony which overlooked the court yard, 
 
 1^ 
 
 % 
 
16 avLzxn, or the kose-howkr. 
 
 of the Palace, yet sulliciently distant from the noise of 
 the gay and merry crowd that thronged its gates, the 
 Princess related to Humza the story of her love: 
 
 " Brought up," said she, " in the court and camp of 
 my father, Shah Aga, (having lost my mother in my 
 youth,) I became my father's special favorite, and was 
 looked upon by the Emirs who surrounded his standard 
 as the prize for which they fought and rendered homage, 
 — as the Ilouri for whose favor the throne of Persia 
 would one day be shaken to its base. No mother's 
 hand was near to guide me in the path of duty — no 
 sweet lips were by to counsel me in my dawn of life! 
 Ah, no! I have no mother! She whose angel spirit 
 watched over my infancy, and soothed my cries with 
 her endearing smiles, sleeps the lone sleep of death ! 
 
 " Yet how fondly does memory cling to the fast 
 fading mementos of a mother's love — how does it dream 
 of and hang over the early recollections of her kind 
 endearments — of that eye that never closed whilst a 
 shade of sorrow floated over the path of her child ! In 
 the lone solitary chamber of sickness, she has watched 
 by the couch of her infant from the rising of the bright 
 star of evening until it faded away in the sky, guarding 
 her child from the dangers of the night, whilst her soft 
 voice would breathe a prayer to the gracious Allah, of 
 gratitude and love for all his kindness. But she is gone, 
 and I scarcely remember her death; yet, of all her 
 kindness, O, how my poor heart garners up and loves to 
 dream! She was fair and beautiful as the orange tree 
 in its blossoming, her heart was chaste as the bower of 
 IMosscUa, and her thoughts jiure as the waters of Rock- 
 nabad. Among the young Chiefs who attended my 
 father's court, was Abbas Mirza, a branch of the family 
 
 #' 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 17 
 
 of the renowned Khureen Kuan — gallant in liis bear- 
 ing, and first in the manly exercise of the camp. My 
 heart soon became attached to the young Zund; and 
 when my father would frown on the youthful Mirza, 
 my eyes would send him a present of smiles. Enough ! 
 we soon found ourselves deeply in love: days, weeks, 
 and months passed away, to us full of happiness, for 
 never did two hearts love more sincerely, or seem more 
 full of sinless happiness: the past was forgotten in the 
 present, and the future seemed covered with flowers. 
 But ah! how deceitful is life! the calm and the sunshine 
 which then were around us, were but the precursors of 
 a dreadful storm. My father had heard of our loves; 
 and in his anger swore to mar our happiness. " What," 
 said he, "dare the son of a Zund wed the daughter of a 
 Kuger!" and the fire flashed from his eye like the light- 
 ning of Allah — his sword was thirsting for blood. 
 
 "It was Winter; and the waters of the Zenderoud 
 had overflowed its banks, carrying death and devastation 
 along its course. Seated in my chamber with my faith- 
 ful attendant, I anxiously watched the angry river as it 
 rolled along by the Palace walls. The court had passed 
 the Summer at Ispahan, and my father had not yet 
 removed to his Winter Palace. Watching the storm 
 of the elements, I had passed the day unconscious of the 
 storm that was so soon to burst upon my love. At 
 length the hour was come when Mirza was in the cus- 
 tom of joining us with his messamer, and chaunting 
 some of the divine odes of Hafiz to my enraptured ear; 
 but he came not: all that night I felt lonely, yet knew 
 not the cause; some fearful foreboding was on my heart; 
 and when I met at mid-day the eye of my father, it 
 frowned upon his child! 
 3 
 
18 OLLZAH, OK THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 "Days passed away — and vainly I ehdeavored to 
 learn aught of Mirza: at court or in camp his name 
 was forbiddtn to be breathed — none knew, or seemed 
 to know, where he had gone. 
 
 "Months passed away — yet he came not: the heart 
 of Gui.zAU pined in grief, and my father saw the health 
 of his daughter decay. In vain he tried to restore my 
 s[)irits — the bloom had left my cheek and gladness my 
 bosom. Princes strove for my favor, but I refused them 
 all. Kerman's haughty Prince — he who now prances 
 so gaily on his caparisoned war steed before us — has 
 sworn to gain my hand or die ! " 
 
 "Then die he shall!" said the Dervise; "for never 
 shall the blood of Azubah mingle with that of Ac a — 
 the vulture of the desert shall not wed the lamb of the 
 valley!" and he paced the balcony as if the fire of 
 youth again coursed through his veins, reanimating his 
 aged frame. 
 
 "Stay, HuMZA," said the fair Gulzar, "thou wilt not 
 leave me in anger; what has the Princess said to offend 
 her preserver, or that should cause him to frown ? " 
 
 Ashamed of the violence of his passion, the Dervise 
 seated himself by the side of his patient, and witnessed 
 in silence the sports of the day. 
 
 The sun had gone down over the tops of the moun- 
 tains of Zagros; a thousand lamps lightetl the halls of 
 Aga, and the dancing girls are leaping light to the sound 
 of music. Seated on his royal throne, in his robes of 
 State, with the crown of Persia glittering on his brow, 
 and the fair Gui//ar reclining by his side, on a coucii 
 of clcjth of gold and silver, with the aged Humza stand- 
 ing uncovered i)eside her, Shah Aca received the Princes 
 :md Nobles ol the Kingdom. 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 19 
 
 The dance and the song went gaily round ; the young 
 were there in all their beauty, and the Nobles in all their 
 dignity: age threw aside its looks of gravity, and joined 
 in the sports of youth. The heart of the Shah was glad ; 
 and he took a ring from his finger, and called for the 
 Bards of his Kingdom, to contend for the golden prize. 
 
 Forward came the sons of Jamie, and they sung of 
 the loves of Yusseff and Zuleika; and the children of 
 Hafiz sung of their own loved bower of Mossella, and 
 of the waters of Rocknabad; some sung the praises of 
 Timor, and some sung the praises of their King, Shah 
 Aga, and the hall sounded with shouts of applause. At 
 length HuMZA, the Dervise, stepped forward among the 
 Bards, and bowing humbly to the throne on which the 
 Shah was sitting, he took in his hand a small harp that 
 hung on one of the golden pillars of the hall, swept his 
 fingers across its chords, as with the touch of a master, 
 and thus began: 
 
AYESHA 
 
 O! who has gaz'd on Babylon, ('> 
 
 The city of the brazen gates — 
 And seen, bright gleaming in the sun, 
 
 Her gilded domes and minarets? 
 And heard the camel's tinkling bell 
 Come softly on the ev'ning gale ; 
 And breathed the sweet and scented air, 
 The perfum'd breath of Diarbekir; 
 And swept his eye across that land. 
 From Syria to Samaracand, — 
 Drank of the famed Euphrates' stream, 
 And seen the pale moon's silv'ry beam 
 
 Play over its translucent wave, 
 Could ever dream so fair a scene 
 
 Would be one lone and nameless grave. 
 And be as if it ne'er had been? 
 Yet such is now that Babylon, 
 The city of that Mighty One 
 Who said, I'll gild my royal name^-' 
 With characters of living flame ; 
 Who dared to place his regal throne 
 Amid the stars' celestial zone, 
 And clothed himself with robes of Him, 
 Before whom Saint and Seraphim 
 
22 OULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 Veil their pure forms, in reverence meet, 
 Laying their sceptres at his feet; 
 Whose hand unrolled the spangled sky, 
 And form'd each star that shines on high, 
 And hung them on the brow of night. 
 Like jewelled lamps of living light. 
 Now where is he, and where are they, 
 
 Who bent before his regal throne? 
 Go ask yon time worn ruin grey, 
 
 Go ask yon broken nameless stone. 
 But they who saw his star arise 
 In glory in the orient skies. 
 Beheld that brilliant orb's decline. 
 Whose light was falsely call'd divine; 
 And saw that King an outcast driven, 
 Rejected and despised by Heaven. 
 His home the wild, or mountain cave — 
 His drink and food, the crystal wave,(^) 
 The grass that grows by Tigris' stream, — 
 
 Fit herbage for the light gazelle. 
 But who, ah ! who could ever dream, 
 Here Persia's Lord should lonely dwell? 
 That he who claimed the proudest throne 
 On which the sun had ever shone. 
 Should have no house, nor home, nor bed 
 On which to rest his weary head — 
 No friend whose smile would chase the gloom 
 
 That gathered round his cheerless heart' 
 Not one was there to share his doom. 
 
 Of all his woes to bear a part! 
 
 But down the mighty stream of time, 
 That fallen chief has |)ass'd away, 
 
GULZAK, Oil THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 And those who bent before his shrine, 
 
 Now bow beneath another's sway. 
 For ruin long had wrapt her pall 
 O'er Babylon's oblivious wall, 
 Until the sword of Osmanlee 
 Had swept in blood from sea to sea ; 
 And like a wild volcano, flung 
 
 Its burning lava o'er the land, — 
 Until the hearts of old and young 
 
 Obey'd its stern and dread command. 
 Then war's red banner idly waved 
 
 Its silken folds o'er Mah'my's tomb, 
 And those whose hearts had nobly brav'd 
 
 The desert-burning death Simoon — 
 Whose course was like some mighty flood — 
 One crimson stream of liquid blood — 
 Whose pathway was the ensanguin'd plain, 
 O'er fallen thrones and heaps of slain. 
 Now sheath'd the sword, and bade arise 
 The Mosque's proud domes, 'neath distant skies;. 
 And countless pilgrims bent the knee 
 Before the shrine of Osmanlee. 
 
 The sun is up — the golden sun — 
 The immortal God of Pagistan — 
 And smiling o'er that silver sea. 
 Which laves the shores of Araby ; 
 His beams illume the coral caves 
 Of Kishma's Isle, and crystal waves, 
 And many a bright and peerless eye 
 Is gazing on that briUiant sky. 
 Allaii-il-Allaii ! loud resounds, — ^*' 
 And all the air is filled with sounds 
 
24 aULZAlt, oil THE nOSE-BOWER. 
 
 Of prayer and praise, — from every tower 
 The muezzen-call proclaims the hour. 
 Allaii-il-Allaii — God is God! 
 
 His sun is in the orient sky, 
 And bursting thro' night's sable cloud 
 
 His car of glory mounts on high. 
 The stars are fading one by one 
 Before the bright, the glorious sun ; 
 A thousand songsters wake the grove 
 With nature's lyre, in songs of love,— 
 And leaping from their roseate bed 
 The pearly dews of night have lied. 
 All, all is life; in each you see 
 The impress of Divinity: 
 We read it in the lowliest flower 
 That blooms in Summer's sunny hour ; 
 We read it in the grass that springs 
 in nature's thousand blossomings. 
 Where'er we turn, where'er we look. 
 By silv'ry lake or babbling brook, 
 Or climb the mountain's hoary brow. 
 Or Ocean's depths we sink below, 
 Or scan the dark volcano's gloom 
 Where Pluto reigns — a burning tomb: 
 Without, within, below, above, 
 Allaii-il- Allah — God is Love! 
 
 Why gaze the sons of Osmanlee, 
 So deep entranced, on yonder sky? 
 
 From Scanderoon to Persia's sea 
 Rises one wild, one piercing cry. 
 
 Look! look! 'tis not the golden sun 
 
 'J'licy gaze so long, so deep upon ; 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 25 
 
 But in his car appears a form 
 More dread than spirit of the storm. 
 His throne is on yon thunder-cloud, ^^^ 
 
 Round which the Uvid lightning plays — 
 The rain-bow's wreath he makes his shroud, 
 
 To veil the sun's lampadian blaze. 
 And lo! behind his chariot's wheel, 
 Is seen the Angel Asrael, '■'''> 
 And black Naker and Munkeir, 
 
 Whose duty is to judge the dead. 
 Why pales the son of Abukir ? 
 
 Why is bold Ali's heart afraid? 
 Dost fear to cross Al-Sirit's bridge, ^'''> 
 
 Which spans hell's dark and dread abyss? 
 And, gazing from its narrow ridge. 
 To hear the snake's eternal hiss? 
 Fear not! Al-Barzakh claims not thee,^^^ 
 Before you pass Time's stormy sea ; 
 The sun must rise from where it sets,(^) 
 And smoke enwrap the Kauba's gates, — 
 In dark eclipse must be the moon. 
 As scorched by flame of red Simoon — 
 And every star shall be unsphered. 
 
 And Nature from her centre shake, — 
 And all that Art or Science rear'd. 
 
 Become one broken shapeless wreck. 
 But then, fear not; thy home will be('°^ 
 In palmy Isles 'midst Hyra's sea ; 
 Thy tent of richest, rarest gems. 
 
 Thy couch and pillow softest down — 
 And Asia's choicest diadems 
 
 Shall be thy bright immortal crown. 
 4 
 
26 cuiiZAR, on THE rose-boweu. 
 
 And from Al-Kawther's crystal stream 
 
 (Which is more sweet than Shiraz wine) 
 Shall be thy drink. Thy food, I deem, 
 
 Will be grapes from the Tooba-vine. 
 And Ilouris, fairer far than even 
 
 Thy brightest dreams could dim portray — 
 Whose home is 'mong the flowers of Heaven, 
 
 Whose bloom no more feels time's decay, — 
 
 Shall on thee smile through endless day. 
 Or woulds't thou wish alone to rove 
 Through shades more sweet than Murga's grove. 
 Ten thousand walks thy steps invite, 
 lllum'd with Heaven's celestial light; 
 And crystal streams that sparkling play 
 Their limpid waters o'er thy way ; 
 And golden trees, and fruit, and flowers, 
 (More rich than aught in Amroo's bowers,) 
 And dulcet sound, so soft and low, 
 
 That hear them once — O! ne'er again 
 Should grief or sorrow cloud thy brow — 
 
 Thy heart should feel no woe nor pain. 
 But who is that, that trembling leans 
 
 Her sylph-like form on Ali's arm? 
 Her years have pass'd 'midst fairest scenes. 
 
 Unknown, I ween, to war's alarm. 
 Like blossoms of the lotus-tree 
 
 Her swelling bosom gently iieaves: 
 Her check is like the liliod " lea," 
 
 Tinged with dewy musk-rose leaves; 
 And like the pearls of Zara's stream, 
 
 When slecj)ing in ihcir native shells, 
 Is her eye's suit auti pa})liian i^eam — 
 
 Her step is light as young gazelle's. 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. "27 
 
 It is great Nadir's hope and pritte, 
 And Ali's loved and loving bride: 
 This is the flower of Chusistun — 
 The last lone hope of Kouli Khan — 
 The sweet Ayesiia — she whose hand 
 Was sought from Zaade to Hindostand; — 
 And she is there in all her love, 
 Like spirit from the realms above. 
 
 O ! what is half so beautiful 
 
 As woman in her stainless youth — 
 A daughter kind and dutiful, 
 
 With heart in which is only truth ? 
 O, tell me not of peerless eyes, 
 Whose light outshines the star-lit skies; 
 O, tell me not of smiles so sweet. 
 Nor bid me kneel at beauty's feet; 
 I'd rather press the stainless lip, 
 Though not so fair, than nectar sip 
 From those of guile. This, this is bliss! 
 Undying, endless happiness ! 
 And Ali's heart was proud to own 
 
 Ayesha's love, so warm and true; 
 For when he clasped her virgin zone, 
 
 And gazed into her eye of blue, 
 He found a smile that well repaid 
 The watchings he for love had made ; 
 He found a heart whose inmost cell 
 Was all his own, for good or ill; 
 A heart where truth's bright seal was set, — 
 The stainless, the immaculate; — 
 j^nd dreamt that years, long years of bliss, 
 Were yet for them in time's abyss. 
 
28 GULZAR, OK THE ROSE-llOWER. 
 
 How vain the dream ! Nor sun, nor star, 
 
 Will ever shine on Ali's bride! 
 Unloose, unloose the bright cymar ! 
 
 Fast ebbs Avesha's blood-life tide: 
 How pale that cheek — how dim that eye ! 
 O, Allah! must the lovely die! 
 
 They bathed her temples in the stream 
 
 Which springs from 'neath the ])alm tree's shade; 
 Herbs gather'd under Luna's beam. 
 
 They mixed to soothe her aching head. 
 But all in vain : dark Asrafx 
 Has stamp'd her with his fatal seal ; 
 And soon the Rose of Chusistan 
 Must seek that dark and cheerless land 
 Wherein Munkeir and Nakir dwell. 
 And hear her doom — to Heaven or Hell ! 
 But Ali o'er Avesiia bent, 
 With maddening grief his heart was rent; 
 And oft he kiss'd her marble brow, 
 
 Now damp with death's cold clammy sweat. 
 "O, Allah! hear thy suppliant now: 
 
 "Allah-il-Allah — Thou art great! 
 "O cause the vernal breath of morn 
 
 " Unto her cheek restore its bloom, 
 "And wake to life her fainting form, 
 
 "A ransom from the lonely tomb: 
 "And give those eyes again their light, 
 
 "Her aching head, O! soothe its pain; 
 "Dispel, dispel the shades of night 
 
 "That fast are gathering 'round her brain! 
 "But should she die, then hear my prayer, 
 
 "Thou Ruler of the V^arlh and Sky: 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 29 
 
 ^' O do not crush a flower so fair, 
 
 " Nor make her breathe the plaintive sigh. 
 "O, place her not 'neath that green rock/^'^ 
 
 "Nor in the pit of Hydramut; 
 " Her heart would quail beneath the shock, 
 
 "In it, her soul, O do not put! 
 " The zem-zem well is far too deep, 
 "And I would grieve to hear her weep; 
 "But place her in some lovely star — 
 
 "Those islands of the skiey sea — 
 "Where Death's cold hand no more may mar 
 
 "Ayesiia's dreams of love and me. 
 " Allah-il-Allaii ! — God divine! 
 
 "O! hear me in this hour of need: 
 "And I will kneel before thy shrine 
 
 "And humbly kiss thy Prophet's feet." 
 
 Thus An breathed his fervent prayer; 
 
 And music floated on the air 
 
 So soft and sweet: Ayesha smiled. 
 
 As if her pains were all beguiled 
 
 By those rich sounds; and smiling, said, 
 
 " O, I am happy, happy now ! 
 " The pain has left my throbbing head — 
 
 "Allah has heard thy sacred vow : 
 "Come near me Ali — I would rest 
 "My head upon thy manly breast: — 
 "There — let me gaze into thine eye 
 
 "And dream of love that soon must fade: 
 "Say, wilt thou love me when I die 
 
 "And sleep among the silent dead — 
 "Say, wilt thou seek my lonely tomb, 
 "When Summer bids the flowrets bloom, 
 
30 OVLZAU, OR THE ROSK-BOWKR. 
 
 "And deck my rrrave with roses fair, 
 "As oft you vvreatii'd my raven hair? 
 "And should my home be in the star — 
 
 "The first and fairest orb of even, 
 " I'll bind awhile my golden car, 
 
 "And bless thee with the breath of Ileav'n. 
 "For I have seen, when skies were clear, 
 " One of those spirits leave its sphere, 
 "And, shooting o'er the expanse of night, 
 "By Lota's silent grave alight; 
 "And like the soft wind 'mongst the grass, 
 "Hath heard its heav'nly breathings pass: 
 "So I, dear Au, I will come, 
 "And make thy breast again my home." 
 
 She closed her eyes, and faint and low, 
 Her breathings only life could show, 
 So still she lay: the slumb'ring dead 
 
 Sleeps not a calmer, holier sleep — 
 The bloom for aye her cheek has fled : 
 
 Well may the heart of An weep, 
 For never more will she awake. 
 
 To range with him thro* Shiraz grove. 
 And from her locks the bright dews shake, 
 
 And cheer his heart with smiles of love. 
 Thus died Ayesiia, e'er she knew 
 What 'twas to love too long, too true, 
 Before revolving time had laid 
 His hoary hand upon her head, 
 And dried the fountains of the heart — 
 
 Those living springs of inward joy. 
 Polluted once by time or art, 
 
 Life's choicest pleasures soon will cloy. 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 31 
 
 She fell in youth's gay sunny morn, 
 
 When hope and joy were warm and bright; 
 When her young cheek was full of bloom, ' 
 
 Her smiling eye was full of light; 
 And like the gay and young gazelle, 
 
 When drinking from some silv'ry brook. 
 It sees its form, and loves to dwell 
 
 Upon its soft and gentle look : 
 So she, delighted, oft would dream. 
 Like young gazelle, in silv'ry stream, 
 Of all she was, and what might be; 
 And o'er the tales of Araby 
 She pored with all a hermit's care — 
 
 Of Masudi and Al-Kandi, (^2) 
 Of NouRMAHAii, the good and fair,^^-^^ 
 
 So fair and good she wished to be. 
 Peace to her ashes ! She was young, 
 And fair as ever poet sung; 
 And like the diamond was her mind. 
 So pure and bright: and she was kind — 
 Kind as the dove that loves to make^^^^ 
 
 Its nest on Mecca's sacred shrine; 
 And time could neither cool nor shake 
 
 The love she formed in morning's prime. 
 Thus fell the Flower of Chusistan — 
 The last lone hope of Kouli Khan. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO I. 
 
 (1) " 0, who has gazed on Babylon, 
 
 The city of the brazen gates." 
 " It had one hundred gates of brass, and the walls, wiiich were 
 cemented with bitumen, measured 480 stadii in circumference, 50 
 cubits in thickness, and :200 in height." — Ancient History. 
 
 (2) '* Who said, I'll gild my royal name 
 With characters of living flame." 
 "For thou hast said in thine heart, I will ascend into Heaven: 
 I will exalt my throne above the stars of God ; I will be like the 
 Most High." — Isaiah, 14th chapter, 13th and 14th verses. 
 
 (3) "His drink and food, the crystal wave, 
 
 The grass tiiat grows by Tigris' stream." 
 "And Nebuchadnezzer was driven from men, and did cat grass 
 as oxen; and his body was wet with the dew of Heaven." — Daniel, 
 4th chapter, 33d verse. 
 
 (4) "Allah-il-Allah loud resounds," 
 "The Muezzen-call, which is proclaimed from the minarets at 
 sun-rise, mid-day, in the afternoon, at sun-set, and at mid-night." — 
 See Al-Koran. 
 
 (5) "His home is in yon thunder-cloud." 
 "And I saw a mighty Angel coming down from Heaven, clothed 
 with a cloud, and a rain-bow was upon his head, and his face was 
 as it were the sun, and his feet as pillars of fire." — Revelations, 
 10th chapter, 1st verse. 
 5 
 
34 CULZ VR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 (0) " Is seen the Angel Asraf.:,, 
 
 And Nakir and the black Munkeih." 
 "Asraci is the Angel of Death, and Nakir and Munkcir are the 
 black and livid Angels whoso duty it is to examine, and judge, &.C., 
 the souls of the world, or men." — Al-Koran. 
 
 (7) " Dost fear to cross Al-Sirit's bridge ? " 
 
 " The bridge which connects Time and Eternity, and over which 
 the soul, after death, must pass. It is finer than a hair, and sharper 
 than a sword. — Al-Koran. 
 
 (8) " Fear not ! Al-Barzakh claims not thee." 
 Al-Barzakh is the Purgatory of the Mohammedans. 
 
 (9) " The Sun must rise from where he sets." 
 Prophetic signs which will precede the resurrection. 
 
 (10) " Thy home will be in palmy isles." 
 Description of some of tiie pleasures which await the faitiiful in 
 Paradise. 
 
 (11) " 0, place her not 'neath that green rock." 
 State of the soul after death. The Moslems have three grades or 
 classes in their Hades : The souls of the Prophets have only ad- 
 mission into the first, which is Paradise. In the second, tlie souls 
 of Martyrs undergo a sort of Pythagorean imprisonment in tlio 
 gizzards of green birds, which feed on the fruit of the Jooba, and 
 drink of the delectable fountains of Al-Kawther. Some fix a portion 
 of the third class in the zim-zim well, or give them a place with 
 Adam, in tlie lower Harem ; while the souls of Infidels arc shut up 
 in a dark pit in the province of Hydra mux, to suffer torments until 
 the soul and body are again united at the resurrection. — Al-Koran. 
 
 (12) " Masudi and Al-Kandi." 
 Two Arabian Historians and Poets. 
 
 (13) " Nourmahal, the good and fair." 
 Tlic celebrated Sultana of the Indies, and favorite of tlic re- 
 nowned Emperor Jehan-Guire. 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 35 
 
 (14) " Kind as the dove that loves to make 
 It's nest in Mecca's sacred shrine." 
 " From the fable of the pigeon whispering revelations into the ear 
 of Mahomet, and his almost miraculous escape in the cave, through 
 the appearance of a pigeon's nest, with two eggs, found by his pur- 
 suers, immediately above its mouth. Doves are held sacred, and 
 build their nests in the Temple of Mecca. — History of Arabia. 
 
GULZAU, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 All the next day nothing was talked of except the 
 loves of the beautiful Ayesha and the noble Ali, and 
 her untimely death; and now that the Princess had so 
 far recovered as to appear in public, the inmates of the 
 harem flocked to her apartments, to talk of Nadir's 
 lovely daughter, and to behold the celebrated Physician, 
 HuMZA. Not one of the Shah's one hundred wives but 
 was complaining. Those who had been his com- 
 panions in his youth, and who had long since passed 
 into the sear and yellow leaf of age, wanted some 
 balsam to restore their faded beauty — to repaint the 
 cheek with the bloom of freshness — and to restore to 
 the eye the brilliancy and fire of youth. The young 
 and the gay wished to bathe in the fountains of wisdom, 
 that they might gain the affections of the aged Mon- 
 arch: all — all had some trifling complaint, so as to 
 require advice of the Dervise, and to learn the fortunes 
 of the young and noble Ali. And the Princes of the 
 Kingdom came with the Imans, the Mollahs, and other 
 great officers of State, and paid their respects to the 
 restorer of the child of Aga, in whom they beheld a 
 second Jalanoos, the loved of Allah. 
 
 But what said the Princess amidst all this rout and 
 revelry, — amidst all this homage and adulation? Siie 
 had witnessed the jousts and tournaments made in honor 
 of her recovery, and she had smiled upon the victors in 
 the fields of fame; but she is silent in the presence of 
 Humza: each tone of his voice she hangs on as if struck 
 with enchantment — each word that he breathes thrills 
 her bosom with delight. 
 
38 GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 Niizht has asain come with her thousand stars stud- 
 ding the blue canopy as with golden ingots, and the 
 youth and the aged are again engaged in their round 
 of pleasures. The Bards are there, too, with their songs 
 and elegies, and they chaunt the praise of Sheik Sadi, 
 of Zingis Khan, the great. The heart of the young be- 
 came entranced in listening to the tale of love ; and the 
 eye of the Shah smiled for joy. Again Humza took the 
 gilded harp of the Princess, and the ear of silence 
 listened with rapture: 
 
CANTO II. 
 
 The Simoom's breath had swegt the land^^^ 
 
 From Marah to the Caspian sea, 
 And down before its burning san4 
 
 Had thousands dropt in agony: 
 While roU'd the Sun athwart the Heav'n, 
 More hke a comet, furious driven 
 By some dark spirit from the pit 
 Of Hydramut, or Al-Sirit ; 
 And now, when sinking in the sea 
 That laves the shores of Araby, 
 Beyond mount Hor, and that dead lake ^^^ 
 Whose waters neither quench nor slake 
 The thirst of man, or bird, or beast, 
 
 Who seek its cheerless, death-like wave: 
 The curse of Allah stands confess'd 
 
 In silence of the lifeless grave. 
 His form appear'd in pillar'd flame, <■') 
 
 Like that which lit the lonely path 
 Of MoussA, when proud Pharaoh came 
 
 To th' Red sea's bank, to quench his wrath, 
 Dyeing the Nile's impetuous flood ; 
 And all the sky, as if with blood. 
 Mocking the purple's darkest hue. 
 
 And shaking from the glowing sky 
 
40 <;i:i,z.\R, OR THE uose-bower. 
 
 The tropic's baneful, deadly dew: 
 
 Where e'er it falls, its victims die. 
 And over Persia's wide domains. 
 Dark Asrael in silence reigns: 
 From every couch, from every home, 
 Arise grief's wild and plaintive moan; 
 Young hearts are breaking, as they part 
 From those they lov'd — their kindred heart: 
 And age is mourning, like the deer. 
 When stricken by the hunter's spear; 
 And rich and poor in silence kneel 
 Before the Angel Asrael.^ 
 
 The Harem's light, o'er Kornah's wave. 
 
 Floats faint and dim from 'Yesha's bower, 
 And silent as the noiseless grave 
 
 Stands Ali, in that lonely tower. 
 But yesterday his heart was proud 
 Of her who sleeps in Death's pale shroud — 
 For she to him was more than life. 
 Or all this fleeting world can give: 
 Her silv'ry voice — her radiant eye — 
 Her smile, sweet as the sunny sky — 
 Her dimpling cheeks, like lilied leaves 
 
 When dip])'d in wine — her snowy breast. 
 Like some white cloud which fancy weaves 
 
 Amidst the curtains of the West. 
 O, how we garner up the flowers 
 
 Of those whom death has wiled away!- 
 O, how we treasure up those hours 
 
 Pass'd in the morning of our day ! 
 A thought, a look, a smile, I ween, 
 Of one we loved — a fairv scene 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 41 
 
 Of leaves and flowers — and lake, and tree — 
 Of waving meads, where roams the bee, 
 Extracting from the rose's lip, 
 The sweets that Houris love to sip : 
 Days, months, and years before us stand. 
 
 Obedient unto memory. 
 Like spirits, by enchantress' wand, 
 
 Call'd from the grave in which they lie. 
 But when we gaze upon the dead. 
 
 No power can make the slumb'rer rise, 
 Or give the pale cheek beauty's shade, 
 
 Or lustre to the filmy eyes; 
 Restore the voice its silv'ry tone, — 
 The heart, cold as the marble stone, 
 Imbue with life — with magic pow'r 
 Its loves and joys again restore. 
 O, it is vain! — yes, vain to dream! 
 As well repaint the rain-bow's beam 
 When spanning with its radiant robe 
 The azure arch which girds this globe, 
 Or bid the south-wind's music flow 
 From frozen realms of changeless snow; 
 No power on earth can e'er recall 
 The spirit from its atrial hall, 
 Or wake to life the blacken'd scroll 
 Which once contained the human soul. 
 
 Still Ali gazed as if life's spring 
 Within his heart was slumbering. 
 Or, like the dew upon the leaf, 
 Congeal'd by winter's freezing breath: 
 He gaz'd upon the marble brow. 
 But not one shadow flitted there — 
 6 
 
42 OULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 He press'd her cheek, 'twas cold as snow — 
 
 Her Hp, — but all was silence there. 
 Entranc'd he stood, mute as the stone 
 
 Enrob'd with life by sculpture's art. 
 Whose lips emit no music tone. 
 
 Whose breast contains no beating heart: 
 Yet he had strode o'er many a field 
 
 Where Death had bared his blood-red arm 
 And dyed with crimson gore his shield. 
 
 Yet knew nor felt the least alarm. 
 But now, all silent, sad, and lone. 
 
 He gazes on Ayesha there. 
 And all his hopes, like Ater's stone, ^''^ 
 
 Or Adin's dew, dissolve in air; 
 He feels that life no more for him 
 
 One scene of hope or joy can spread — 
 The star that lamp'd his path is dim, 
 
 The love that cheer'd him on is dead. 
 
 O ! could we ope the gates of Time, 
 
 Where seated on his throne sublime 
 
 Great Allah reigns, and view the page 
 
 Which holds the deeds of youth and age, 
 
 How would the spirit rise or quail 
 
 Before the Angel Asrael, 
 
 And thus escape long years of pain, 
 
 Or live them o'er and o'er again. 
 
 Allah-il-Allah — God is wise, 
 
 He knows wherein our weakness lies. 
 
 And metes to man his joy or woe 
 
 As father would unto his son : 
 From Allah all our comforts flow — 
 
 It is his love we rest upon — 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 43 
 
 Then silent, humbly, kiss the dust: 
 Allah-il-Allaii — Thou art just! 
 
 But who is that with flowing beard, 
 
 White as the winter's crisped snow, 
 With eye of fire, that never fear'd 
 
 To meet the glance of friend or foe? 
 It is great Nadir, fearless chief, 
 Now clad in robes of heart-felt grief; 
 And he whose soul had never known 
 One hour of pain, and would not own 
 That life or death could make one change 
 
 Upon his heart, or break his sleep. 
 Now o'er Ayesha humbly bent. 
 
 And like a very child did weep. 
 0, grief is strong ! -^ that grief which bends 
 
 The fearless warrior in the dust. 
 And makes him lean on kindred friends. 
 
 And humbly own that God is just: 
 For Nadir's life from youth had been 
 Of storm and strife one endless scene. 
 Now marking with a despot's sway 
 Who e'er should rule, and who obey — 
 Whose word was law, whose frown was death, 
 • Whom to oppose as well you might 
 Attempt to inhale the Simoom's breath, 
 
 Or 'scape its wrath by force or flight; 
 Not swifter from the skies above. 
 The falcon strikes the harmless dove — 
 The tiger's rage is not more wild, 
 When of its cubs by man beguil'd — 
 The serpent's eye not deadlier gleams, 
 When basking in the noon-tide beams. 
 
44 GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWF.R. 
 
 And in its power beholds its prey 
 In heedless pastime cross its way. 
 Such was the Chief of Chusistan, 
 Persia's immortal Kouli Khan. 
 
 Yet he had lov'd in early youth, 
 With all the fire and depth of truth, 
 While roaming, nature's fearless child, 
 With heart unstain'd by force or guile — 
 Bright as the sword that graced his side, 
 Or pearl of Zara's crystal tide. '^^ 
 That he had lov'd, and O, how well, 
 Let years of grief and sorrow tell ! 
 But not that grief which clouds the brow, 
 And wears the weeds of outward woe; 
 His heart in pride refus'd to bend. 
 Or own its pain to ear of friend : 
 Alone he stood, like some dark rock 
 
 In Ocean's wild and foaming sea, — 
 Alone his heart sustained the shock. 
 
 And scorned to break, or bend, or flee. 
 His youth was pass'd in Shiraz-grove — 
 The seat of joy, and home of love — 
 Where silv'ry founts their waters play'd 
 Beneath the feath'ry palm-tree's shade — 
 Where Nature cloth'd in endless Spring, 
 
 'Midst lakes, and trees, and fruit, and llowers- 
 Where music floats on zeph'rous wing — 
 
 'Midst rustic tents and roseate bowers, 
 And Houris bright as e'er unveiled. 
 
 Or bent at Mecca's sacred shrine: 
 But these, all these, in power had fail'd 
 
 To fire his heart with love or wine. 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 He lov'd too well to join the chase, 
 And meet the fiercest of that race 
 That makes the jungle's wild their home, 
 Or proudly thro' the forest roam — 
 The tiger, gloating o'er his prey. 
 He lov'd to meet at break of day ; 
 Go rouse the lion in his lair. 
 And you will find young Nadir there: 
 But seek him not in Shiraz grove — 
 His dreams are not the dreams of love. 
 
 Ah! who is that that wildly flies 
 
 Before the foaming forest boar? 
 The fires of death shoot from his eyes — 
 
 One minute and the chase is o'er! 
 Haste! Nadir, haste! where is thy spear! 
 
 Quick! quick as lightning, let it fly! 
 The maiden falls, and death is near — 
 
 One minute more and she must die ! 
 As quick as light his spear has fled — 
 The monster lies among the dead; 
 The force of life was in the dart 
 Which sought and found its rav'nous heart: 
 It fell — but not until the blood 
 
 Had oozed from Nadir's wounded breast. 
 Staining the ground on which he stood, 
 
 And crimson'd all his silken vest. 
 The shades of death sweep o'er his sight. 
 
 His heart a sickly faintness feels, 
 And dark his brain grew as the night. 
 
 When not one star its lamp reveals. 
 He fell — but not until he press'd 
 
 The hand that vainly strove to save — 
 
 45 
 
46 GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 And leaning on her throbbing breast, 
 
 His eye wax'd darker than the grave. 
 Allaii-il-Allah ! hear the prayer 
 Of MiRZA, Flower of Istakhar ! 
 
 A golden lamp is softly lending, 
 
 In Omar's hall, its gentle light; 
 And o'er a couch a fair form 's bending 
 
 Like some sweet spirit of the night. 
 A sunny smile flits o'er the brow 
 Of him on whom she gazes now: 
 It was a dream of Paradise ^^^ 
 That flitted bright before his eyes : 
 He thought that, robed in flowers of spring. 
 He mounted up on Angel's wing 
 Amidst the sky's ethereal blue, 
 Whose roof was of the silv'ry hue — 
 Where, hung by chains of massive gold, 
 The stars and planets onward roll'd ; 
 And birds and beasts disported there 
 O'er velvet lawns, 'midst flow'rets fair; 
 And Angels, with their radiant wings, 
 Bright as the Tooba's blossomings — 
 And golden harps, on which they sung 
 
 The glory of the immortal God, 
 Till all the sky with praises rung 
 
 Of Him who makes His throne the cloud ; 
 And Ilouris, with their smiling eyes 
 
 And ruby lips, whose breath, I ween, 
 Is sweeter than the air that sighs 
 
 O'er the musk-groves of Cheenar's Queen : 
 But one, far brighter than the rest, 
 Awoke new feelings in his breast, — 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 47 
 
 And bending o'er him, seem'd to wile 
 Him to her arms with sunny smile, 
 And as she laid her glowing cheek 
 
 Upon his breast, and bade him sip 
 (In language such as Angels' speak) 
 
 The nectar from her ruby lip, 
 He foftdly press'd her to his heart, 
 As if they ne'er, 0, ne'er should part, 
 And gazing in her eye of light — 
 So calmly sweet — so mild and bright — 
 He bade her fly to Shiraz grove. 
 To live in endless, deathless love : 
 To that sweet vale — those sunny skies — 
 
 Where care nor sorrow ne'er should mar 
 Their happy loves. He rais'd his eyes 
 
 And kiss'd the Flower of Istakhar: 
 For it was Mirza who had stole 
 (To watch the idol of her soul) 
 From her soft couch — and now was there 
 In all her beauty : Young and fair 
 As Eva, in her hour of bloom. 
 
 When Adam first beheld his bride. 
 And kiss'd ker lip, whose rich perfume 
 
 Was sweeter than his garden's pride. 
 
 O ! who has watch'd love's first advance. 
 And felt its wild and thrilling glance — 
 The burning blush — the long, deep sigh — 
 The faltering tongue — the restless eye — 
 The heart which fain would join that heart 
 From which it has been too long apart — 
 May plainly know what Nadir felt. 
 As by his couch fair Mirza knelt. 
 
48 GII.ZAR, Oil Tlin noSE-BOWER. 
 
 And heard him breathe agahi that vow 
 Whicli he had breathed in Heaven above, 
 
 When dreaming, and had kiss'd her brow 
 With deep, impassioned breath of love. 
 
 The lamps are bright in Omar's hall 
 
 Where loud resounds the voice of "glee"; 
 And lloating o'er his castle wall, 
 
 Proud waves the flag of Osmanlee. 
 And many a turban'd chief is there 
 From Scanderoon and Diarbekir — 
 From Cashmere's vale, and Ilindostan — 
 From Astrabad and Khorassan — 
 From Ormuz isles, and Mocha's sea, C') 
 Whose waves are one transparency: 
 Say, who has viewed its coral caves 
 Beneath its bright translucent waves, 
 And seen, disporting o'er its sands, 
 The Naiades of a hundred lands: 
 A thousand gems are glittering there — 
 
 Its caves contain ten thousand more, 
 And all that's bright, and all that's fair 
 
 I found upon its golden shore: 
 So brilliant are its waves of ligiit. 
 They mock the orient diamond (luite. 
 And maidens with their dark black eyes, 
 Like Houris from the sunny skies — 
 And Peris from the western isles. 
 With golden locks and witching smiles — 
 And proud Circassia's luscious dames 
 
 With snowy breasts, and step so free, 
 And eyes whose glance emit more flames 
 
 Than all the maids of Araby: 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 49 
 
 But all must yield the palm to her 
 Who was the Flower of Istakhar — 
 Fair Mirza, Nadir's noble bride, 
 
 Who was the hope of Osmanlee, 
 Whose battle-path was like the tide 
 
 That sweeps the straits of Mocha's sea ; '■^^ 
 For none save him had power to wield <°) 
 The sword of Antar, or his shield : 
 In council wise, in battle brave, 
 The first to glory, or the grave. 
 
 Why shrinks the Flower of Istakhar 
 
 Before the scowl of Yeman's eye — 
 What has he dared to say to her, 
 
 That she should from his presence fly? 
 The flower will close its tender leaves 
 Before the blast the Simoom breathes — 
 The bird will seek its mother's wing 
 When o'er its head is hoverinii 
 The falcon with its eagle glance. 
 'Tis Nature: and to her, perchance, 
 The same had whisper'd in her breast 
 
 That Yeman, with the scowling brow. 
 Would mar her joy and break her rest. 
 
 And was her lord's most deadly foe. 
 It must be so : for not one word 
 Had Yeman spoken 'gainst her lord ; 
 And, save that look which he had given. 
 His brow was as serene as Heaven, 
 When not one cloud is seen to fly 
 Athwart the azure of the sky. 
 But he could fawn with words of guile 
 And mask his hatred in his smile, 
 7 
 
50 GTTLZAR, OR THE ROSE-DOWKR. 
 
 As serpent lures its lieedless prey 
 And charms its victim's life away. 
 
 The nuptial rite is said and done — 
 The bridegroom and the bride are one, — 
 And iiaut-boys chaunt from every tower 
 The praise of Istakhar's sweet flower; 
 And nature seems to bless the day 
 That gave the blooming bride away : 
 O, never brighter shone the sun 
 Upon the Lord of Chusistan, — 
 For when his golden beams did fall, 
 At noon-tide, upon Omar's hall, 
 Where floated many a silken fold 
 Of Persia's loom, inwove with gold. 
 And glancing on young Nadir's crest, 
 
 And Antar's shield and matchless sword, 
 You might have dream'd some angel blest. 
 
 Was sent to guard the youthful lord. 
 The nuptial feast is past: and gone 
 
 Are they who graced that festive scene, 
 And Mirza's face with gladness shone 
 
 When Yeman was no longer seen ; 
 And days and months have roU'd away, 
 And who than Mirza is so gay. 
 Again the leaf has clothed the tree. 
 And Mirza's heart is light and free, 
 For soon another moon will give 
 
 An heir to Nadir's noble line: 
 The father in his son will live. 
 
 And Iran's star again will shine. 
 Wake, wake the harp! young Nadir said — 
 
 Let minstrels strike the trembling string,— 
 
GULZAIl, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 To-day an off'ring shall be made 
 
 To Allah, Heaven's eternal King, 
 For he has bless'd my home and heart, — 
 
 Why should that heart unmindful be? 
 A tenth I'll give of every part 
 
 Of wealth I own, by laud or sea. 
 Thus Nadir vowed — and soon was seen 
 
 A thousand camels, on their way 
 To Mecca's and Medina's shrine, 
 
 Young Nadir's gift of love to pay- 
 
 O! it is sweet, in youth's gay morn. 
 
 Before that iieart with grief is torn, 
 
 To hear its first, its earliest prayer 
 
 Rise softly on the balmy air. 
 
 And wafted by some seraph's wing. 
 
 Before the throne of Nature's King, 
 
 Breathe its sweet praise, — and hear the strain 
 
 Which Angels chaunt o'er jiardon'd man. 
 O, I could list, and list again ; 
 
 For since my feeble soul began 
 To dream of Heav'n or quake at Ilell, 
 How wild my thoughts! — ah, none can tell ! 
 Yet 'tis not death I fear to meet, 
 
 Nor MuNKEiu — nor Al-Barzakh's cave ; — 
 Such fears I trample 'neath my feet — 
 
 They cannot shake the nobly brave: 
 But 'tis to meet Heaven's mighty King, 
 
 Before whose eye no robe can veil 
 The thoughts from which our actions spring — 
 
 Whose lamp explores life's darkest cell. 
 For what is man — what is the heart? 
 That restless thing which forms a part 
 
52 OULZAR, on THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 Of all our sorrows, griefs, and woes, — 
 From whence our joy and comfort flows — 
 The source of pain, the seat of pride — 
 The throne of love — the tempt' and tried: 
 What is the mind? Where Fancy reigns, 
 And Reason leads in flow'ry chains, — 
 Whose eye of Science loves to trace 
 The Comet thro' the realms of space, 
 And dares to scan those mighty laws 
 
 Which bind and rule the earth and sky. 
 And search for that eternal cause 
 
 Whose viewless throne is fix'd on high. 
 What is the soul — that mystic thing. 
 Like angel sleeping on Time's wing — 
 Mysterious being, veiled and bound. 
 
 Like some lone captive in his cell, 
 Whose head was once the glory crown'd, 
 
 Before his throne and kingdom fell? 
 Go ask the bow that spans the cloud, 
 
 Who mix'd its beams and placed them there ; - 
 Go ask the sky who weav'd its shroud — 
 
 The sun and moon whose robes they wear; — 
 Go ask each star that lamps the Heaven — 
 
 Those spirits watching o'er the night, 
 Whose fires illume the gloom of even — 
 
 From whence does come their glorious light: 
 In vain ! in vain ! no answer they 
 Can give to one of mortal clay. 
 Allaii-il-Allaii! — thou alone — 
 To thee their course and power is known ! 
 
NOTES TO CANTO II. 
 
 (1) " The Simoom's breath had swept the land." 
 " The Simoom, (called by the natives of Arabia Sha7nie]), under 
 whose pestilential breath all nature seems to languish, and fre- 
 quently expire. Its approach is discovered by its sulphurous odor, 
 and an unusual redness in that quarter of the sky from whence it 
 blows. The heavens, at other times serene and cloudless, appear 
 lurid and heavy ; the sun loses its splendor, and appears of a violet 
 color; the air, loaded with particles of the finest sand, becomes 
 thick and fiery ; marble, iron, and water become hot under its action 
 — every kind of moisture is absorbed: when inhaled by man, it 
 produces a painful and suffocating sensation — the skin becomes 
 parched and shrivelled, and the body is consumed by internal heat." 
 — Crichton's Arabia. 
 
 (2) " Beyond Mount Hor, and that dead lake 
 Whose waters neither quench nor slake." 
 "The waters of the Dead Sea, the site of the ancient Sodom and 
 Gomorrah, are said to taste like sulphur, and are thick and brack- 
 ish, neither cooling the body nor quenching the thirst." — Syrian 
 Sketches. 
 
 (3) "His form appear'd a pillar'd flame, 
 
 Like that which lit the lonely path 
 
 Of MOUSSA." 
 
 " Within the tropics there is almost no twilight, the sun shining 
 to the last, with uncommon brilliancy, when he sinks nt once 
 beneath the horizon, frequently like a pillar or a ball of fire." — 
 • Indian T.havels. 
 
54 GULZAR, f)R Tlir ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 (4) " Like Atar's etone, 
 Or Adin's dew, dissolve in air." 
 
 Said to dissolve into air by the touch of man. 
 
 (5) "Or pearl of Zara's crystal tide." 
 The great pearl bank in tlie Persian Gulf. 
 
 (0) "It was a dream of Paradise 
 
 That flitted bright before his eyes." 
 
 The Misra or nocturnal journey to Heaven by the Prophcl, con- 
 tains many touches of sublimity wliich would do honor to tlie muse 
 of Milton or Dante, were it not for the mixed legions of idle 
 phantoms and extravagant wonders it contains. Mohammed repre- 
 Bents himself as asleep between the hills of Safa and Merona, when 
 the Angel Gabriel awoke him ; and aficr travelling a distance that 
 would have taken any other person five hundred years to have done, 
 they cleared, in the twinkling of an eye, the hills of Mecca, top of 
 Sinai, Jerusalem, &c., and arrived at the First Heaven, which they 
 ascended by a ladder of light. "It was compt:sod of a subtile 
 vapor, witli a roof of fine silver, from which hung the stars by 
 chains of massive gold. Tlie wliole firmament swarmed with 
 Angels, some watering clouds, others chaunting hymns; trees, 
 whose stems were of gold, and their leaves and fruit pearls and 
 the most precious gems; Houris, whose breath was sweet as tiie 
 blossom of the Tooba, whose complexions were rubies, and whose 
 eyes were like pearls hidden in their shells." — Al-Kokan. 
 
 (7) "From Ormuz Isles and Mocha's Sea 
 Whose waves aro one transparency." 
 "It is beautiful to look down into this brightly transparent sea, 
 and mark the coral, in large masses of honey-comb rock, of pale 
 red, or blue, and the golden Pand, with its beds of green sca-wced 
 ^iid sliclls, and to witness the fish disporting around the vessel, 
 showing their shining bodies, radiant as the colors of the rain-bow. 
 A rope dipped in its waters, and drawed quickly up, appeared like 
 a string of gems, but with a life and light, and motion the diamond 
 does not know." — Eastern Scenes and Imtuessions. 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 55 
 
 (8) "That sweeps the straits of Mocha's Sea." 
 This strait, so of<,en fatal to the early navigators, is called by the 
 Arabs, Bab-el- Madeb, or tlie gate of tears : while the opposite coast, 
 black and rugged, is styled the cape of burials or graves. 
 
 (9) " For none save he had power to wield 
 The sword of Antar, or his shield." 
 Antar was the Hercules of the Arabs, and was the author and 
 hero of tlie romance whicli bears his name. With his sword or 
 lance he killed in one action eight hundred men." — Works of Sir 
 William Jones. 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 57 
 
 Each day the Princess recovered in health and 
 strength, and Shah Aga rejoiced for his child. The 
 Chiefs of his Kingdom thronged around him seeming 
 to pay most wilUng homage : feats of honorable chivalry 
 were performed between the rival princes — all were 
 anxious to win a smile from the lovely Gulzar, and 
 many a sweet one did she give to them who carried 
 themselves gallantly on the tented plain. Yet ever and 
 anon would her eye wander anxiously, looking for the 
 heron plume of Abbas Mirza, and her heart would 
 almost sink within her, as it returned back empty from 
 its wanderings, until the voice of Humza would recall 
 her from her reverie, as he pointed out some chieftain 
 as the victor of the field. 
 
 The change which the Dervise had given to the loves 
 of Ali and Ayesha, by those of Nadir, Shah, and his 
 favorite Mirza, was highly applauded, and Shah Aga 
 was anxious to know the result. The Bards of the 
 Harem gave way to the song of the stranger; and as 
 Humza took the harp in his hand and tenderly swept 
 his fingers across its golden wires, a tear fell from the 
 eye of the Princess, and a sigh escaped from the breast 
 of the King. 
 
CANTO III. 
 
 Loud sounds the mirth in Nadir's hall, 
 
 The Mesamer and Hadou ring, '■^' 
 And from his Harem's highest wall 
 
 The crescent flaps its silken wing. 
 A thousand lamps are softly gleaming 
 
 'Neath domes of richest arabesque, 
 And many a bright eye there is beaming 
 
 Thro' silken veils, and rich moresque; 
 And Emirs, with their robes of green, 
 
 And Pashas, from the distant Ind, 
 Are prancing o'er that fairy scene 
 
 With horse-tails streaming in the wind ; (^' 
 And youths, in gay and light attire. 
 
 Wheel in the sportive mazy dance, 
 Or wield the sword in mimic ire, 
 
 The Jered throw, or couch the lance; 
 And dancing girls and Aenzees ^^^ 
 
 With decked Rebaba chaunt their song; 
 And all that e'er can charm or please. 
 
 Is there, the gladness to prolong. 
 It is a night of joy to all — 
 A child is born in Nadir's hall, — 
 And proud the father shows his child 
 Unto the Chiefs of plain and wild. 
 
60 GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-ROWER. 
 
 And points her as a prize for those 
 
 Whose plume is foremost in the fight, — 
 Whose sword first drinks tlie blood of foes, 
 
 Whose back was never known in flight. 
 Fill high the cup of Shiraz wine 
 
 Till mirth has all your cares beguil'd — 
 The pledge be Nadir's noble line — 
 
 The pledge be joy to JNadiu's child. 
 
 But who is that who gently leans 
 
 Her radiant form by Nadir's side? 
 Her hair is deck'd with richest gems 
 
 That earth or sea could e'er provide, — 
 Her eyes are like the pearly dew. 
 
 Seen glittering through the haze of morn, 
 Or sleeping on the violet's blue 
 
 And velvet leaf, at dawn of morn ; 
 And from their dark eye-lashes beam 
 
 The happy smiles of matron love. 
 So soft and tender one might dream 
 
 Her home was in the realms above: 
 And one by one the Pashas came 
 
 To bend the knee 'fore Nadir's throne. 
 Why shrinks that form at Yeman's name? 
 
 Again what fears do Mir/a own? 
 For nearer to her lord she clings, 
 
 And clasps with anxious heart her child, 
 And o'er its form her robe she flings 
 
 As if afraid of force or guile. 
 Fear not! — what hand would dare to mar 
 
 So fair a cheek, or wound that breast 
 Where love has placed his glittering star. 
 And virtue built her sacred nest? 
 
GULZAR, OR TIIK ROSE-BOWER. 61 
 
 Not Yeman's soul, the' e'er so dark, 
 Would bend his bow at such a mark ! 
 
 There was a bower in Shiraz grove ^"^^ 
 Once sacred to the Queen of Love, — 
 Its walls were of the silver white. 
 
 Its roof was gold, inlaid with gems, — 
 The fairest flowers, the richest fruit 
 
 Hung clustering on their tender stems, 
 And fragrance breathed in all around. 
 While music rode on ev'ry sound; 
 And streamlets play'd among the trees 
 
 Whose foliage veil'd the glowing sun. 
 Admitting but the sighing breeze 
 
 To fan the cheek it rested on. 
 Soft was the night, and sweet the hour 
 When I with Mirza sought that bower — 
 Not brighter was the virgin sky 
 When young creation met its eye — 
 The stars that gem'd its azure bro-w 
 Were not more pure than they were now ; 
 And mildly shone the gentle moon. 
 
 Lamping the sweet and balmy night, 
 While from the rose the Bulbul's tune '•^^ 
 
 Melted the soul to soft delight. 
 'Tis past! 'tis past! — and what need I 
 Repaint the charms of earth and sky? 
 A rustling 'mong the laurel leaves 
 
 Told that some impious foot was near: 
 I drew my sword — an arrow cleaves, 
 
 With whizzing sound, the viewless air. 
 Another struck my diamond star. 
 
 And glancing, slightly pierc'd mv chest; — 
 
62 GIJLZAR, OR THE ROSE-nOWER. 
 
 With force and rage thai nounhl could bar 
 
 I sprung upon the traitor's breast: 
 'Twas Yeman! — Soon my slaves were round, 
 Unharm'd I bade them lead him bound 
 To Zem's dark dungeon: — well you know 
 
 Who enters there no more can tell 
 The anxious world the tales of woe 
 That echo through its lonely cell. 
 
 But hark! — from out the bower of love 
 
 A mourning sound breaks on my ear: 
 O! Allah! — Thou who rul'st above — 
 
 Thou only knew my heart felt fear! 
 With frantic step and tottering limb 
 
 I entered, and on Mirza cried: 
 No voice replied, — my eyes grew dim — 
 
 O! Allah! would that I had died! 
 I saw that blood had stain'd the ground. 
 
 And found her bleeding, faint, and low — 
 Life issuing from a gory wound 
 
 Made by dark Yemax's fatal bow ! 
 Slowly she rais'd her filmy eye. 
 
 And on me smiled, — but oh, how faint! 
 I kiss'd her cheek in agony. 
 
 And o'er her form in silence bent. 
 O, Thou who rul'st the starry sphere. 
 
 Do thou in mercy hear my prayer: 
 O ! send Thy guardian Angel here. 
 
 And save the flower of Istakhar! 
 In vain! in vain! — no Seraph came 
 To fan life's feeble flickering flame — 
 While oozing from her wounded side 
 Fast flowed her heart's red-crimson lidc^: 
 
GULZAR, OR THE UOSE-BOWEK. 63 
 
 And paler, paler grew that cheek 
 
 On which the roses lov'd to play, 
 And leaning on me, faint and weak, 
 
 Her spirit sought the realms of day. 
 
 I did not mourn, I did not weep, — 
 My grief was far too dark and deep; 
 And few save Yeman knew the tale, 
 How MiRZA bled — how Mirza fell! 
 And he was deep in dungeon cave, 
 Silent and secret as the grave, 
 Where still he lies. O! it would be 
 Mercy to quench his agony ! 
 But never on that glorious sun 
 
 Shall ever Yeman gaze again : 
 Till Nadir's sands of life are run, 
 
 His life shall be unmingled pain; — 
 For I have sworn on Antar's sword. 
 
 That pain and grief should wring his soul, 
 Until that soul and body part, 
 
 And Yeman be one l)lacken'd scroll ! 
 Revenge is sweeter far than life. 
 
 And it is stronger than the grave! 
 Go ask the fields of war and strife — 
 Go ask dark Ocean's stormy wave. 
 O, could the brilliant stars of light, 
 Unveil the secret crimes of night — 
 The orient sun write in the sky 
 The deeds of blood that's met his eye — 
 And that soft moon, which softly plays 
 Its lurid light o'er Kornah's stream, 
 One half the guilt that's met her gaze, 
 Or stain'd with blood her silv'ry beam — 
 
64 GUI.Z.VR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 Or could the grave unearth its dead, 
 
 And bid each tongue proclaim its crime, — 
 Oh ! Allah ! how would mankind dread 
 
 To gaze upon the guilt of time! 
 The hawk will nurse its tender brood — 
 The tiger, thirsting after blood, 
 Will fawn and purr around its young, 
 As if its heart's cords all were strung 
 With softest love, — and from the brake, 
 Where dwells the deadly pois'nous snake. 
 Sweet sounds will greet the ear of night, — 
 
 And 'neath the dark and deep green wave. 
 The lamp of love is seen to light 
 
 The darkness of the coral cave: — 
 But only mankind dare to dye 
 
 Their guilty hands with kindred blood, 
 And proudly give the world tiie lie — 
 
 That e'er their souls were form'd for good. 
 Allah-il- Allah ! — God Divine ! 
 Illume with light this soul of mine ! 
 
 But Yeman 's in that lonely cell. 
 
 Where mercy's godlike heavenly voice' 
 Was never heard, — where only dwell 
 
 Tlie demon slaves of force and guile; 
 And I have watched from Mogreb's hour 
 
 Until El-Fadjir lit the morn, 
 Dark Yeman writhing 'neath my power, — 
 
 Blasting his hopes with looks of scorn: 
 His life was one unvarying scene 
 Of thrilling pain and anguish keen: 
 1 j)arched his lips until his breath 
 Was hotter llian the fires of death, — 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 65 
 
 Till madness seiz'd his burning brain, 
 
 And reason fled in wild despair, 
 And Zem's lone cave, with shrieks of pain, 
 
 Resounded back his frenzied prayer. 
 He pray'd for death, — and O, how sweet 
 He would have knelt at Asrael's feet, 
 Although his soul would have been shut 
 Within the cave of Hvdramut! — 
 He would have 'scaped the taunts and scorn 
 
 Of one whom now 'twas death to see, — 
 And gladly, gladly would have borne 
 
 The torments of hell's fiery sea. 
 
 But Yeman lives, and still must live 
 
 Thro' years of grief and lone decay : 
 Life is a gift I cannot give, 
 
 And his I shall not take away : — 
 Revenge is sweet! — and I have quaffed 
 With maddening joy her demon draught! 
 And fired with luscious wine my veins 
 That I might gloat on Ye^an's pains, — 
 Pouring upon his guilty head 
 Hell's burning lava of the dead; 
 And I have made his bosom feel. 
 
 For every pang that Mirza felt, 
 A thousand ! — such as fire or steel 
 
 By mortal, e'er was dreamt or dealt: 
 He made my home, my hearth, my heart, 
 
 Which once was deemed the seat of bliss, 
 A lonely waste, that hand of art 
 
 Could ne'er asain in time redress. 
 The flower that fades 'fore dread Simoom 
 'Neath vernal skies aa;ain will bloom — 
 9 
 
66 GULZAR, OK THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 The cloud that veils the star of night, 
 
 Passing Uke sorrow o'er its brow, 
 Leaves not one trace to mar its hght. 
 
 Or quench the fire which makes it glow- 
 And time will dim the lines of grief, 
 
 That, like lone spirits, flickering play 
 O'er beauty's cheek, and give relief, 
 
 Chasing the cause of pain away: — 
 But, Ali, never did my heart 
 
 Forget one moment Yeman's crii^ie! 
 For Mirza's love was on that hearl 
 
 But deeper 'grav'd by hand of time: 
 1 did not mourn, I did not weep, — 
 
 No ear heard ever Nadir sigh — 
 My grief was far too dark and deep 
 
 To meet the glance of human eye: 
 But Allah knows how well I've kept 
 The vow 1 made when others wept — 
 While yet my heart was like my sword, 
 
 Unstain'd by fraud, or force, or crime, 
 And glory's eagle proudly soar'd 
 
 With Nadir's fame from clime to clime. 
 
 But, Ali, tliou art young, and woe 
 
 Sits lightly on thy manly brow; 
 
 Thy heart is like the sparkling stream 
 
 Of Ilehnind, or the lucid beam 
 
 Of that sweet moon, which now is smiling 
 
 In sinless beauty, calm and bright, 
 The watches of the ni'dit bei^uilinir 
 
 With her bright rays of living light. 
 But stain it once, and stain'd forever: 
 
 No art nor power can make it yield — 
 
GIILZAR, OR THK ROSE-BOWER. 67 
 
 Its lustre is eclips'd forever, 
 
 Like rayless orb, or tarnished shield. 
 
 ! could I pluck yon star so bright 
 
 From out the deep blue azure sky, 
 'Twould dim before thy spirit's light, 
 
 'Twould quail before thy fearless eye: 
 For I have mark'd thy dauntless crest 
 
 O'er many a dark and dismal field. 
 When fear might thrill the bravest breast. 
 
 When it was death to fly or yield, — 
 And oft in Shiraz sacred grove 
 
 On thee and 'Yesha I have smil'd. 
 Well pleas'd to see that Ali's love 
 
 Was placed on Nadir's only child. 
 Now these are past; — and thou, like me. 
 Alone must cross life's stormy sea, 
 For never more the heart again, 
 Can feel the pleasure or the pain 
 That once it felt — when thro' it thrill'd 
 
 Love's first, and purest, deepest glance, 
 And fancy led, where'er it will'd. 
 
 The restless mind. O! ne'er, perchance, 
 Will on thee smile so bright an eye. 
 As now is smiling from the sky ! 
 Look ! Ali, look ! — I see her there ! 
 I know her by her silken hair; 
 Those jewell'd lamps which round her shine. 
 Are like the lamps of Mecca's shrine, 
 Or those which 'round the Prophet's tomb '■^^ 
 Shed their soft rays and sweet perfume, — 
 I know her by her white Cymar 
 And diamond zone: — it is the star 
 
68 GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 That 'Yesiia lov'd to gaze upon, 
 
 When night would throw her mantle deep 
 Across the sky, — and morning's sun 
 
 On evening's breast would fall asleep. 
 Come Ali, let us mount our steeds, 
 And join her in those star-lit meads, 
 And bring with thee my lance and bow. 
 
 That we may hunt the light gazelle, — 
 For well, I wot, does An know 
 
 That Nadir loves the chase so well. 
 
 Bear with me, Ali, Nadir said, 
 
 I feel a fire within my brain, 
 That racks with pain my aged head. 
 
 Till madness has usurp'd the reign : 
 I'm like a deer, who, long at bay, 
 
 Has stood against the ills of time — 
 Thou, like a fawn at break of day. 
 
 Rejoicing in thy manhood's prime, 
 And thought not that dark Asrael 
 Would ever near thee set his seal. 
 And dream'd not that in Shiraz-grove — 
 Within the blissful bowers of love — 
 He there would come with fatal kiss. 
 And mar and blast thy happiness. 
 So thought I once: — you know my tale. 
 
 O ! 1 was happy, happy then ! 
 Straying with Mirza thro' the vale. 
 
 And never thought of grief or pain. 
 Come near me, Ali — let us gaze 
 
 Thus hand in hand upon the dead, — 
 'Tis all we have of her whose rays 
 Of love across our path were shed. 
 
OULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 69 
 
 How motionless, how still is Death ! 
 Those pallid lips return no breath — 
 That eye how dark, its lustre gone — 
 That brow how damp, and cold as stone : — 
 Still beauty lingers on that cheek 
 
 As if 'twas loth to leave its shrine. 
 Speak, Ali! to Ayesha speak — 
 
 She yet may hear that voice of thine ! 
 
 Ah, no! — she never more will hear 
 
 The silv'ry tones of Ali's voice, 
 Which oft was music to her ear, 
 
 Bidding her inmost soul rejoice — 
 For he to her was as the light 
 Of summer skies at dewy night — 
 And like the music of the flowers 
 When the soft wind thro' myrtle bowers 
 Sighs faint and sweet, — not fonder breath'd 
 
 The Bulbul to the fragrant rose 
 His deathless love, than An weav'd 
 
 The tender tale of all his woes: — 
 And then he sung of tented plains, 
 
 And turban'd chiefs, with lance and spear, 
 Whose pathway led o'er heaps of slain. 
 
 Whose heart knew neither love nor fear, — 
 And warriors from a distant land, 
 
 Whose soul was like the sword they wore, — 
 From Cashmere and Samaracand, 
 
 And from the sacred Ganges' shore. 
 Thus he from themes would weave a tale 
 That, breath'd in Summer's balmy gale. 
 Would charm the heart of 'Yesha's love, 
 
 Waking sweet feelings in the breast — 
 
70 GiiLZAR, OR Tirr; nosF.-nowF.R. 
 
 Such feelings as in Heaven above, 
 Live in the bosoms of tlie blest. 
 
 Alt, come near me, Nadir said, 
 
 Thou art more dear to me than ever: 
 The one we fondly lov'd is dead — 
 
 Yes, she is dead, and gone forever! 
 Thou art my son — my throne is thine, 
 Sole guardian of the Prophet's shrine, 
 That faith for which our fathers trod 
 O'er fields of dead, thro' seas of blood, 
 Is now entrusted to thy care, 
 Brave son of faithful Abukeir. 
 And well 'tis so, for it will crave 
 A heart that is both wise and brave: 
 Dread tidings circle thro' the land 
 
 Of Sheahs gathering from those seas 
 Which bound the realms of Dagistand, 
 
 To crush the faith of the Sonnees. 
 Ayesiia 's dead, — and thou must make 
 
 The land that gave thee birth, thy bride. 
 And blast the hand that dares to shake 
 
 Thy faith or throne, while by thy side 
 One Moslem stands, for much I fear 
 Time's fated end is drawing near — 
 I feel that life within my breast 
 
 Is waxing feeble, and my soul 
 Longs to behold those islands blest. 
 
 Whose flowers and fruit are gems and gold. 
 But be thou happy : I may yet 
 
 Be spared to bless thee — tho' I feel 
 As if the fatal seal was set 
 
 Upon my heart by Asrael. 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 71 
 
 Here, Ali, let me place the sword 
 
 Of mighty Antar by thy side: 
 It knows no hand save Persia's lord — 
 
 None lives who e'er its power defied ; 
 But never draw it in a cause 
 That is 'gainst God's or nature's laws, 
 And sheath it not until the foe 
 
 Has bent before thee in the dust. 
 And nations at thy mandate bow: 
 
 Allah-il-Allau ! — God is just! 
 
 The moon shines bright on Kornah's wave, 
 
 The stars are sparkling in the sky. 
 But all is silent as the grave, 
 
 When nought disturbs the ear or eye. 
 Beside a conch where perfum'd lamps, 
 
 Fed by Acacia's fragrant oil. 
 Shed their soft light, and silence stamps 
 
 The sleeper free from care or toil, 
 Young Ali stood, in weeds of woe; 
 
 And many an Imaum round him pray'd. 
 Whilst music breathed its numbers low. 
 
 Chanting an anthem for the dead. 
 0! lay her not, young An said. 
 
 Beneath that dark and dismal stone! 
 I know the chambers of the dead V 
 
 At best are dreary, sad, and lone: 
 The opening of those iron gates 
 Too harshly on my feelings grates — 
 Those massive doors, and yon dark tomb, 
 Rising like Hades thro' the gloom, 
 Accords not with A YEsn a: No! 
 Her soul was never form'd for woe ! 
 
rZ OULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 O! bear her hence! and 'neath the tree 
 Whicli well she lov'd — where oft with me 
 She pass'd the sunny hour of even — 
 
 There make her tomb: there let her rest, 
 So that the pearly dews of Heaven, 
 
 Like glittering stars, may gem her breast; 
 And let a thousand roses bloom 
 
 Upon Ayesha's peaceful grave, 
 Freighting the air with rich perfume, — 
 
 That when I stray by Kornah's wave, 
 At dewy eve or sunny morn. 
 
 Breathing its balmy fragrant air, 
 My thoughts may be of her whose form 
 
 Was lighter than the gossamer, 
 Whose soul was purer than the sky. 
 
 Beneath the sweet Acacia tree. 
 
 Whose milk-white blossoms scent tiie breeze 
 That wanders from the Persian sea. 
 
 Murmuring its choral symphonies, 
 A.YESIIA sleeps — and o'er her tomb 
 The violet and the rose-tree bloom. 
 And soft and sweet the Bulbul breathes 
 
 Its plaintive melting song afar, 
 Mourning among the the rose's leaves, 
 
 The lovely Flower of Istakhar. 
 
 0, why are the maidens of Chusistan weeping. 
 Why wear they the emblems of sorrow and woe' 
 
 O, is it because that the lovely is sleeping — 
 The Light of the Harem is lonely and low? 
 
 No more will Ayesiia, love's mesamcr singing, 
 Leap light as the fawn at the break of the day, 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 73 
 
 For over her bosom the rose-tree is springing, 
 
 Where sweetly the Bulbul is chaunting his lay, 
 O, well may young Ali for Chusistan's Flower 
 
 Go mourning in sadness by Kornah's bright wave, 
 For the heart that he lov'd more than Chusistan dower. 
 
 Lies pulseless, and lonely, and cold in the grave ! 
 Weep, weep then, ye maidens, in silence and sadness. 
 
 The tears of affection, of friendship, and woe, — 
 No more will Ayesha e'er join in thy gladness — 
 
 The Light of the Harem is lonely and low ! 
 
 10 
 
NOTES TO CANTO III, 
 
 (1) "The Mesamer and Hadou ring." 
 "The Mesamer is a species of song common all over Araby, in 
 which the youth of both sexes join in the chorus, accompanying it 
 with clapping of hands and various motions of the body, and is used 
 by tlie lover in serenading his mistress. They have, also, war 
 songs, called Hadou, in praise of their chiefs, which are sung on 
 all festive occasions." — Crtchton's Arabia. 
 
 (2) "With horse-tails streaming in the wind." 
 The horse-tail is the ensign of the Pashas ; and according to the 
 number which is fi.xcd on their lance, so is their power. 
 
 (3) "And dancing girls, and Aenzees, 
 
 With decked Rebaba, chaunt their songs." 
 " When an Aenzee recites verses or ancient poetry, ho accom- 
 panies his voice with the "Rebaba," a kind of guitar, the only 
 musical instrument used in the Desert." — Crichton's Arabia. 
 
 (4) " There was a bower in Shiraz-grove, 
 Once sacred to the Queen of Love." 
 "The palace of Shaddad was built of bricks of gold and silver 
 alternately; the roof was of pure gold, inlaid with pearl and pre- 
 cious metals ; and the flowers and fruits rubies and diamonds. On 
 their branches were perched birds of gems and gold, the hollow 
 parts of which were filled with perfumes, so that with every breeze 
 fragrance was wafted from their bills." — Massoudi's Work. 
 
76 GULZAK, OR THE nOSE-BOWER. 
 
 (5) " While from the rose the Eulbul's tune 
 Melted the soul with soft delight." 
 The Bulbul is the Persian nightingale, and is a great favorite 
 with the eastern poets. 
 
 (6) " Or those which round the Prophet's tomb," &c. 
 Samhoudi writes that the coffin which contains the dust of Mo- 
 hammed, is cased with silver, and overlaid with a marble slab, in- 
 scribed BismiUai AUahumd Salli aki (in the name of God bestow 
 thy mercy upon him.) Glass lamps are suspended all round tlie 
 curtains, which are kept burning every niglit, and perfuming pans, 
 filled with musk, aloes-wood, and other aromatics. The vulgar 
 story long prevalent in Christendom, which suspended the Prophet's 
 coffin in the air, at Mecca, by two powerful magnets, was a ridicu- 
 lous fabrication of the Greeks and Latins, and is unknown in 
 Arabia. The Mosque of Medina contains the tomb of Mohammed, 
 not Mecca. 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 77 
 
 When the Dervise laid aside his harp, the audience 
 was subdued in tears, and all that evening nothing was 
 talked of but the death of Mirza, the funeral of Ayesiia, 
 and the grief of Nadir and All By universal consent 
 the ring was given to the Dervise. 
 
 Next day every library in Teheran was ransacked for 
 information relative to the actions of Shah Nadir, and 
 nothing was heard chaunted in the streets by the joyous 
 citizens except the glory of Koum Khan and the deeds 
 of the gallant A1.1. Yet all men were astonished to 
 think that a stranger with whom none was acquainted 
 should sing the glory of their King; and with anxious 
 hearts the Minstrels awaited the sports of the coming 
 evening, that they too might celebrate the praises of the 
 immortal Nadir. 
 
 Night came — but the brow of Shah Aoa was shaded 
 with gloom, and the harps of the bards stood unstrung 
 by their sides, until the Princess arose and took a golden 
 necklace from her bosom — a chain, curiously inwrought 
 with gems and pearls — and presented it as a prize for 
 the Chief of Song. But the Bulbul sings not when the 
 sun is overclouded, and the iEolian breathes not when 
 the zephyr sleeps; yet, to please the Princess, Humza 
 took her favorite harp, and mournfully struck its wires, 
 as if in sympathy with the heart of the King: 
 
CANTO IV. 
 
 Life hath its sunshine and its showers, 
 Its budding hopes and fading flowers, — 
 It hath its pangs of keenest thrill, 
 
 Cold memory's relentless sting, 
 Which wakes not, pierces not, until 
 
 The scenes of joy have taken wing. 
 Life's star is like the beacon light 
 
 That flashes o'er the stormy wave. 
 Illumining Time's darkest night — 
 
 The watch-fire of the lonely grave. 
 What are its flowers — its budding hopes? 
 
 Those gorgeous robes which fancy weaves- 
 Those dreams of joy, like pearly drops 
 
 Glittering upon the rose's leaves, 
 Bright as the tears which Angels weep:^') 
 
 Yes, bright as they — as fading too! 
 Shake but the flower on which they sleep, 
 
 They vanish from the gazer's view. 
 The Simoom's wind, which sweeps in wrath 
 
 The Desert's death-o'erwhelming sand, 
 Blighting and blasting, in its path. 
 
 The loveliest, fairest of the land. 
 Is called to being by that power 
 
 Who forms the dew drops of the morn, 
 
so GLLZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 Who tinges with fine tints the flower 
 That blooms upon the tender thorn. 
 
 Life hath its sorrows: the wild shriek. 
 
 That bursts from an o'erburdened breast — 
 The joyless eye, the palid cheek, 
 
 The wrong which ne'er can be redress'd : 
 Borne like a bubble on the stream, 
 
 Man floats upon life's troubled wave, 
 Now basking in its sunny beam. 
 
 And now a captive of the grave: 
 Yet still he fondly clings to life, 
 
 As if all joy were centered there; 
 Wealth, fame and fortune, all he'll give, 
 
 To spend a few more years of care! 
 In vain he 's told of brilliant skies, 
 Rich as the rain-bow's gorgeous dyes — 
 In vain of perfum'd jas'mine bowers. 
 Of sweetest, richest, rarest flowers, — 
 Of maidens with their breasts of snow, 
 
 And dark black eyes, and Paphian smiles, 
 All burning with love's wanton glow — 
 
 Calypsos of the skiey isles, — 
 Of islands bright as morning's star. 
 
 Each one a pearl or precious gem — 
 Of winged steeds, with golden car, 
 
 Worth Persia's royal diadem: 
 But let the hand of Time be laid 
 In pain and sickness on his head. 
 And let the fountains of the heart — 
 
 The springs of hope and joy — be dry, 
 Whilst one by one his friends depart. 
 
 And nature hears the anguished sigh; 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 81 
 
 Then fondly, fondly would he rest, 
 Like child upon its mother's breast, 
 Or launch his bark upon that wave 
 
 Whose waters dark unbounded sweep. 
 Fearless of Death's appalling grave. 
 
 Fearless of Death's cold dreamless sleep. 
 Both, both are false ' The life that 's given 
 To feeble man by righteous Heaven, 
 Should not be meanly, rashly sold 
 For dreams of joy or hopes of gold; 
 Nor should affliction's pangs impart 
 
 A wish for death, nor bid him take 
 The fatal leap which sends the heart 
 
 A wand'rer on death's shoreless lake : 
 In joy or pain, man ought to bless 
 
 The hand from whom his comfort flows, 
 And 'fore Great Allah's throne confess 
 
 He to His mandates humbly bows. 
 
 A Chieftain leaned upon his brand — 
 
 To him it was a trusty friend — 
 While round him throng'd a daring band. 
 
 The swarthy sons of burning Ind: 
 His brow was like the glooming sky 
 
 When thunder shakes the sea and earth, 
 And like the lightning was his eye, 
 
 Whose fiery glance to meet was death. 
 He gaz'd upon the page of time — 
 
 The mirror of the dreamy past — 
 The present wore no joys for him, 
 
 The future shadows overcast. 
 O ! can he not within that book 
 Find one endearing friendly look — 
 11 
 
82 Gri//AR, on the kose-bower. 
 
 Not one fond smile — not one kind friend, 
 Before whose love his soul might bend I 
 Blooms not for him in life's parterre 
 
 One single solitary flower? 
 What ! does the past nor present wear 
 
 One joyous smile, one sunny hour? 
 Not one! not one! — the past is dark, 
 And like a sea on which a bark 
 Is tossing there 'midst angry waves, 
 Whose depths reveal but yawning graves, 
 Life now appears: — each foot-fall there 
 Presents some hidden treach'rous snare: 
 For he has pass'd thro' toil and strife, 
 And fouffht and bled for home and life. 
 
 O 
 
 Love once was his — such love as Heaven 
 
 Reserves for man in skies above — 
 Sweet, sweet as that which is engraven 
 
 \J\)on a Peri's heart of love; 
 But it was blighted, just when years 
 
 Had usher'd into bloom the flower — 
 His morning's smiles were closed in tears, — 
 
 His brightest was his darkest hour. 
 
 All beautiful, she pass'd away — 
 
 A thing of love, a thing of light — 
 Like the bright sun at close of day, 
 
 Bidding a weeping world good night. 
 A throne was his — an empire's sway. 
 
 Where Emirs lowly bent the knee; 
 His word was law — whom to obey, 
 
 Their path would cut through earth and sea. 
 He saw rebellion's hydra-head 
 
 Subvert his throne, and for his life 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 His sword was drawn: he fought and bled, 
 
 And fell, o'erpower'd by fraud and strife. 
 A dungeon's loathsome cave was his, 
 
 Where noxious reptiles idly crawl — 
 He heard the serpent's deadly hiss 
 
 While creeping round his dungeon wall: 
 Disease had on his vitals prey'd, 
 
 Reason awhile had left its throne, 
 And from that dungeon's cave, as dead, 
 
 He in the sullen stream was thrown. 
 What is he now? — an outlaw'd man, 
 
 And nam'd the chief of outlaw'd men 
 Who round him cluster; and "Whose van 
 
 You ne'er may see the like agen." 
 Silence now reigns on earth and sky, 
 
 Soft, soft the dews of evening fall, 
 And clos'd is many a weary eye 
 
 'Neath slumb'ring Nature's dusky pall: 
 Yet still he, lingering, gazes there. 
 
 While to the sky his eye is turn'd, 
 And from his soul he breathes a prayer. 
 
 As if that soul with rapture burn'd. 
 
 Stars of the night! — ye golden lamps ^-^ 
 
 Hung by Great Allah's mighty hand, 
 Whose impress on all nature stamps 
 
 Ye sweet angelic sister band ! 
 Bright there ye shine, and still have shone 
 
 In one eternal hour of prime. 
 Each rolling burningly alone. 
 
 Thro' boundless space and countless time; — 
 Ay, there ye shine ! — the golden dews 
 
 That pave the way by Seraphs trode, — 
 
 83 
 
S4 OULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 There, thro' your echoing vaults, diffuse 
 
 The song of choral worlds to God: 
 Visible spirits — bright as erst 
 
 Young Eden's birth-night saw ye shine 
 On all her flowers and fountains first, 
 
 Ye sparkle from the hand divine: 
 Yes, bright as when ye smiled to catch 
 
 The music of a sphere so fair. 
 To hold your high eternal watch, 
 
 And gird your God's pavilion there. 
 Gold frets to dust, yet there ye are — 
 
 Time rots the diamond — there ye roll 
 In primal light, as if each star 
 
 Enshrin'd an everlasting soul: — 
 And do they not, since yon bright throngs 
 
 One all-enliv'ning spirit own ? 
 Prais'd there by pure celestial tongues, 
 
 Eternal, glorious, blest and lone. 
 
 Could man but see what ye have seen — 
 
 Unfold awhile the shrouded past. 
 From all that is to what has been, — 
 
 The alance how rich — the ranj^e how vast! 
 The birth of Time — the rise and fall 
 
 Of Empires — myriads, ages flown — 
 Thrones, cities, tongues, arts, worship — all 
 
 The things whose echoes are not gone: 
 Ye saw red Zoroaster send 
 
 His soul into your mystic reign — 
 Ye saw the adoring Sabian bend. 
 
 The living hills his mighty fane, 
 Beneath the blue and burning sky, 
 
 He worship'd at your lofty shrine. 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 85 
 
 And deem'd he saw with gifted eye, 
 
 The God-head in his works divine : 
 And there ye shine, as if to mock 
 
 The children of an earthly sire. 
 The storm, the bolt, the earthquake's shock. 
 
 The red volcano's cataract lire, — 
 Drought, famine, plague, and blood, and flame — 
 
 All Nature's ills and life's worst woes 
 Are nought to you — ye smile the same. 
 
 And scorn alike their dawn and close: 
 For there ye roll, emblems sublime 
 
 Of Him whose spirit o'er us moves 
 Beyond the clouds of grief and crime. 
 
 Still shining in the world he loves; 
 Nor is one scene to mortal given. 
 
 That more divides the soul and sod. 
 Than you, proud heraldry of Heaven, — 
 
 Ye burning blazonry of God! 
 
 Night's mantle o'er the sky is flung. 
 
 Now silence reigns o'er Omar's sea, — 
 And hush'd is the pearl-diver's song, 
 
 And coral-fisher's minstrelsy; 
 And, struggling thro' the cloud of night, 
 The pale moon sheds her feeble light. 
 Now glancing on Harmosia's walls, 
 Where Hassan reigns in gilded halls, 
 And now upon the tented plain 
 
 That look like countless hills of snow. 
 Where proudly floats, without one stain. 
 
 Bold Hamet's ensign, Hassan's foe; 
 And soon as morning's sun will break 
 
 The curtains of the sable skv, 
 
86 Cri.ZAR, OR THE ItOSE-BOWER. 
 
 Well may the heart of Hassan quake 
 
 To meet the glance of IIamet's eye; 
 For 'neath his banner's silken fold, 
 Full many a warrior chief's enroll'd: — 
 The turban'd Turk, the fiery Hun, 
 
 And chieftain from the distant Ind — 
 From Heja's land, and Astracan, 
 
 With steeds swift as the viewless wind — 
 And Tartars with their snowy plumes, 
 
 With Afric's swarthy sons of war, 
 While from the land of rich perfumes 
 
 The dusky Moor bemounts his car, 
 And Guebres from their mountain came, ^^^ 
 
 From Ater-Q,l'edah's burning hill — 
 That mansion of eternal flame — 
 
 The seat of bliss, or source of ill. 
 
 Still, still that chieftain lingering stands, 
 
 Surcharged with thought, by Oman's sands; 
 
 His form reflected by the wave 
 
 Seemed like some spirit from the grave, 
 
 And ever as the crystal tide. 
 
 With pearly lips, kiss'd the green side 
 
 Of Iran's shore, that spirit seem'd 
 
 Convulsed with pain and inward grief. 
 So that a gazer might have deem'd 
 
 It was the spirit of that chief. 
 Rut hark! — a step a|)i>roaches near — 
 
 The chieftain turn'd him slightly round: 
 Before him stood, with pointless spear, 
 
 A page, with silken pennon bound — 
 His libas was of linen (ine, — ''^ 
 
 Fringed with silk below the knee, 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 87 
 
 His ckames — and his sooderyine 
 
 Was cloth made from the cotton tree — 
 Around his form was loosely flung 
 
 His ckooftan, of Damascus' loom, — • 
 While from his waist his hhezam hung, 
 
 Dyed with the purple amazoom, — 
 And on a brow white as the cliffs — 
 
 The snowy cliffs of Louristan — 
 His turboosh sat, of richest stalls. 
 
 Wove in the looms of Khorassan; 
 His step was light as summer's wind, 
 
 When playing with the blooming flower: 
 I wot his years had passed behind 
 
 The curtains of a lady's bower. 
 A tear stood in his dark black eye, 
 
 As low he bent his willing knee. 
 And from his breast escaped a sigh. 
 
 As if his heart was scarcely free. 
 
 " I come from sea-girt Ormuzstan, '^^ 
 
 " Mossella's crift of love I brinf^ 
 "To Ali, Lord of Chusistan, 
 
 "And Iran's loved and crowned King. 
 " There vernal spring forever reigns 
 
 " Within that blest and sunny isle, 
 "And summer o'er its rich domains 
 
 "Perennial blooms with joyous smile: 
 "But I was tired with Ormuz grove, 
 
 "And longed to join the ranks of war, — 
 " To martial strains, instead of love, 
 
 " I sighed to * strike the li^ht c:uitar.' 
 "My father was an Arab wild, 
 
 "He died on honor's gory bed — 
 
88 GULZAR, Oil THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 " I am his lone and only child, 
 
 "An Arab born, an Arab bred: 
 "I'd ratiier sleep on tented iield, 
 
 "Than on the finest, softest down — 
 " I'd rather bear the lance and shield, 
 
 " Than wear a monarch's royal crown." 
 The chieftain smiled, and well he might, 
 
 The prating of the page to hear. 
 For fragile was his form, and light. 
 
 Unused his hand to sword or spear. 
 "Thou art too young for fields of strife, 
 
 " Where death sits on each warrior's sword, 
 " In lady's bower has pass'd thy life, 
 
 " Or waiting upon Ormuz lord ; 
 " But for my dear Mosseli.a's sake, 
 "Her peerless gift of love I'll take, 
 "And thou my page shall proudly bear 
 
 "It through to-morrow's fatal field — 
 " Its guard shall be my trusty spear, 
 
 "Thy shelter 'neath my sword and shield; 
 "For on to-morrow's die is cast 
 "The strife of death, which cannot last — 
 "To-morrow Iran's lord will lie 
 
 "Lifeless before Al-Hassan's throne, 
 " Or by my hand shall Hassan die, 
 
 "And Persia's realms me sovereign own." 
 
 But who is he, on milk-white steed, 
 
 With nodding plume and weeds of woe? 
 
 His manly breast with anguish bleeds, 
 The lines of grief have marked his brow: 
 
 'Tis ZoHAiK, Merou's princely chief. 
 The last of Kosuul's noble line. 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 89 
 
 Who now has come in robes of griel", 
 
 His force with Ali's force to join; 
 For he has sworn by Mah'my's tomb, 
 
 'Gainst Hassan's throne eternal war — 
 Sworn by Al-Sirit's cheerless gloom — 
 
 Sworn by night's lone and burning star: — 
 For dark 's the deed and deep 's the crime 
 
 That nerves young Zoiiair's deadly hate; 
 And death, but not the hand of time. 
 
 Can e'er his wrongs or woes abate. 
 List! — hear a tale which well may start 
 The life-blood from the inmost heart, 
 For e'er, if for another's woe, 
 
 Adown thy cheek fell sorrow's tear. 
 Again the pearly tear will flow 
 
 For CuMLADE and young Zoiiair. 
 
 Bright are the skies of Chusistan, 
 
 And sweet its balmy almond groves, 
 And rich the plains of Ispahan, '^^'> 
 
 Where Zenderoot in gladness roves. 
 It was a soft and lovely hour 
 As ever beam'd on lady's bower; 
 The sun had sunk in car of gold, 
 
 In Oman's waters calm and bright — 
 Still on the Mosque, and castle's hold. 
 
 Lingered his rays of golden light — 
 The mountain's brow with evening's cloud 
 Was robed, as with a silken shroud — 
 While rising from the eastern sea, 
 
 Triumphant glanced night's purple star — 
 And from the dewy almond tree, 
 
 The Bulbul's strain's were heard afar: 
 12 
 
90 GULZAU, OU THE ROSK-DOWER. 
 
 Within a bower where myrtle bloom'd, 
 
 And the soft clinging jasmin grew, 
 Where sandal-wood the air perfum'd, 
 
 Young Clmlade, with eye of blue, 
 Was there reclining: 0, how fair! 
 She seem'd a thing of light and air! — 
 The bloom of fifteen summers tint 
 
 Her dimpling soft and rosy cheek — 
 A thousand flowers their sweets imprint 
 
 Upon her lips — and mild and meek 
 Her swimming eyes are lighted up 
 
 With fire of sacred })oesy — 
 Yet timid as the antelope 
 
 Beneath the green mimossa tree: — 
 Her brow is like the vault of Heaven — 
 
 Calm, beautiful — while round it cling, 
 Like silken scarf by fairy woven. 
 
 Ringlets dark as the raven's wing. 
 What are her thoughts? — can sorrow blight 
 
 The joy of one so young and fair — 
 Changing her morn to darkest night, 
 
 Fatal as Samiel's tainted air? 
 
 " ! draw aside that silken fold 
 
 "That veils thy joyous eye of light — 
 "Unloose that burnished clasp of gold — 
 
 "CuMLADE, 'tis our nuptial night." 
 "To-night?" "Yes, dearest, ever thine, 
 
 "Thro' weal or woe, thro' joy or pain — 
 "Yes, ever thine, — and thou art mine 
 
 "Till death dissolves life's silver chain: 
 "To-night? — when years on years iiave lied, 
 
 "And time has dimm'd youth's ardent Hame, 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 91 
 
 " Unnerv'd my arm and snow'd my head, 
 
 " Still, still we'll live in love the same : 
 "To-night? — 0, yes! but why that tear? — 
 
 "Why pales my lov'd one — why that sigh? 
 "Speak, dearest, 'tis thy own Zohair — 
 
 " CuMLADE, dearest, love, 'tis I." 
 
 "To-night? — 0, not to-night!" she said: 
 
 " I had a dark and dismal dream, 
 " Of wandering 'midst the silent dead, 
 
 " Of crossing Lethe's noxious stream : 
 " Methought I stood array'd in white, 
 
 " The bride of thee, my own Zohair, 
 "My soul was love, my eye was light, 
 
 " My heart undream'd of woe or care, 
 " And by the altar fondly stood 
 
 "Thee, noble son of high Vellore, 
 " When 'twixt us pass'd a hand of blood : 
 
 "A voice proclaim'd 'Forbear! forbear!' 
 "The Imam's cheek grew deadly pale, 
 
 "The tapers lent a glimmering light, 
 "A voice cried on the evening gale — 
 
 " * CuMLADE must not wed to-night ! ' " 
 "To-night? 0, no! — long years have fled 
 
 "Since first I came to high Vellore — 
 "'Twas on this night my father bled, 
 
 "And with him fell proud Chillingore: 
 "Yet do not on me frown, Zohair, 
 
 " Thou knowest my heart is love to thee, 
 " For thee arise my earliest prayer, 
 
 "My latest thought is breath'd for thee: 
 " Thy mother's spirit, ever bless'd, 
 
 " (Whose home is in the azure sky,) 
 
92 GULZAU, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 " Watch'd o'er my childhood, and her breast 
 
 *' Pillow'd my head in infancy. 
 " By lier my lisping tongue in prayer 
 
 " Was taught to bless the God of Light, 
 " Her kindness sooth'd my childish care, 
 
 "And watched my slumbers during night. 
 " Poor is the immortal sculptor's art, 
 
 " The painter's pencil, poet's song, 
 " Compared to her who moulds the heart 
 
 "With plastic hand when pure and young! 
 "A sister's love is warm and kind, 
 
 "A brother's strong as hand of time, 
 "And sweet the love of kindred mind — ■ 
 
 "But, mother, these are not like thine!" 
 
 "To-night? — this was the fatal night 
 
 "Which saw my sainted father fall — 
 " When ruin swept o'er Chillingore, 
 
 "Its towers, its temples, altars — all! 
 "Wild flash'd the light from Zemendar, 
 
 "And shooting to the dusky skies 
 " Rose the red flame of ruthless war, 
 
 "Mixed with the wildest shrieks and cries: 
 "The Harem's towers were wrapt in flame, 
 
 "Nor age, nor sex, protection found — 
 "All, all who bore the hated name 
 
 "Of AciiMUT, kiss'd the gory ground! 
 "I on an ott'man slumbering lay, 
 
 " Like beauty upon ruin's shrine, 
 "Undreaming of this fatal day — 
 
 "Fatal for aye to me and mine: 
 "Waked by the maddening shrieks of pain, 
 
 "To Heaven I raised my trembling eye — 
 
GVLZAR, on THE ROSE-BOWER. 93 
 
 "In one red flame gleam'd hill and plain, 
 
 "In one red flame blazed earth and sky: 
 "A chieftain came with blood-red hand, 
 
 "And glaring eye-balls flashing fire: 
 "Aloft he rais'd his ruthless hand, 
 
 "And 'neath it fell my hapless sire. 
 "I know no more: Who sav'd my life, 
 
 "Or snatch'd me from that warrior's wrath, 
 "When all I knew or lov'd in life 
 
 "Fell 'neath the pitiless scythe of Death? 
 "ZoiiAiR, I have no friend but thee — 
 
 " No father, brother, sister kind, 
 "No mother smiles on Cumlade — 
 
 " ZoiiAiR, thou art my only friend ! " 
 She raised her eyes, and plaintive smiled, 
 
 Upon his breast her cheek she laid: 
 "Thou wilt not wrong the friendless child — 
 
 " Thou wilt not on the orphan tread ? " 
 
 Say, who can gaze on beauty's cheek, 
 
 At evening's soft and dreamy hour — 
 Look on that eye, so mild and meek. 
 
 And feel not love's all-conquering power? 
 He fondly kiss'd her stainless brow 
 
 And warmly press'd her to his heart: 
 "Mine, ever mine! — but dearer now — 
 
 "0, never, never shall we part! 
 " Yet sacred be this night to thee, 
 
 "To mourn thy fallen noble line; 
 "But when thou weep'st, O, think on me — 
 
 " On one whose heart and soul is thine ; 
 "And soon as morninir's beams shall break 
 
 "The curtains of night's ebon skv, 
 
94 GrLZAn, ou the uose-bower. 
 
 "And nnture from lier fair locks shake 
 
 "The ])early dew, to thee I'll fly — 
 "To thee I'll fly, my Cumlade: 
 "For thou art dear as life to me — 
 "Dear as the light of sunny skies 
 "Is to the Bird of Paradise — 
 "As dew unto the tender flower 
 
 "Blooming amidst the desert's waste — 
 "As to the parched land the shower, 
 
 "Cooling its rent and burning breast: — 
 "Dear, dear unto this iieart of mine 
 
 "As health is unto beauty's bloom — 
 "As to the pilgrim, Mecca's shrine, 
 
 "The Kaaba's stone, or Mah'my's tomb." 
 
 Beside the crystal Zenderoot, 
 
 These trembling lovers lingering stood, 
 
 Whose glassy breast reflected bright, 
 
 The stars that gemm'd the brow of night. 
 
 What were their thoughts? — ah, who can tell ! 
 
 As hope and fear alternate pass'd, 
 Each one afraid to say — farewell ! 
 
 As if that word should be the last. 
 Then eyes looked into dreamy eyes 
 
 Which ne'er before with tears were wet. 
 As 'neath the bright and brilliant skies 
 
 Their ruby lips in fondness met: 
 It was the hour of love — that hour 
 When beauty triumphs in her power, — 
 When Monarchs leave their royal thrones. 
 
 The cares of state forget awhile. 
 And Love's all-conquering presence owns. 
 
 And basks in beauty's radiant smile. 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 95 
 
 They parted — ne'er again to'meet, 
 Or spend in love one hour_so sweet — 
 Earth, sea, and sky must pass away 
 Before that blest, that happy day ; 
 And Death and Hell in viewless air 
 
 Must vanish like the morning's dew, 
 Ere CuMLADE and young Zoiiair 
 
 Their joyous dreams of love renew. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO IV. 
 
 (1) " Bright as the tears which Angela weep." 
 
 "In the East they have a beautiful tradition regarding the Peris, 
 or those Angels who were banished from Heaven when the rebel 
 Eblis was expelled. It is related, that at the close of day the 
 banished Peris ascend to the golden gates of Paradise, where, 
 showing to the Angel that keeps the gates the works of love and 
 kindness done by them on earth, they solicit admission to the 
 celestial regions : those angels whose works are approved of are 
 admitted to the lowest Heaven, while the others return weeping 
 to earth, and their tears are the pearly dews of night." — Okientjll 
 
 ROiMAXCE. 
 
 (2) " Stars of the night I — ye golden lamps." 
 
 The production of a gentleman to whom I return my best thanks 
 for tlie favor allowed me in placing it in this canto. 
 
 (3) "And Guebres from their mountains came." 
 The ancient fire-worshipers of Persia. 
 
 (4) His libas was of linen fine." 
 " The lihas is a kind of drawers, made of linen or cotton, tied 
 round the body by a band called tikheh, the ends of which are 
 fringed with silk, reaching down to the knee or ankle. The 
 ckames, or shirt, and Sooderyine, or jacket, are made of silk, linen, 
 or cotton, loose and open in the te.xture ; the ckooftan, or mantle, 
 colored silk, full sleeves, round which wound the hhezam, or girdle, 
 which is made either of muslin or silk. The turboosh is a red 
 13 
 
98 GULZAU, OR THE ROSE-BOWER, 
 
 cloth cap, fitting exactly to the head, with a tassel of dark blue 
 silk ; around the tarboosh ia wound a Cashmere, or piece of long 
 white muslin, and which iB then called emaviah, or turban." — 
 AiiABiAN Sketches. 
 
 (5) " I come from sea-girt Ormuzstand." 
 A beautiful Island lying in the mouth of the Persian Gulf." 
 
 (6) "And rich the plains of Ispahan, 
 
 Where Zenderoot in gladness roves." 
 
 "Ispahan, the ancient capital of Persia, is situated in a most 
 
 beautiful plain. In the time of Chardin, it contained two hundred 
 
 Mosques, forty-eight Colleges, and one thousand eight hundred 
 
 Caravanseras, and was twenty-four miles in circumference." — 
 
 MuUKAT's ENCVCLOrEDIA. 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSB-BOWER. 99 
 
 When the last echo of the harp died away, and a 
 stilly silence pervaded the Hall of Audience, Hxjmza was 
 about rising from his knee, laying aside the harp of the 
 Princess, as if his task was ended, when the Shah, 
 graciously smiling, bade him proceed with his song. 
 It reminded him of his own unfortunate youth, when 
 Muzundereen was laid in ashes, and his noble father 
 fell beneath the sword of death. With this permission, 
 HuMZA again awoke the slumbering wires, which rang 
 beneath his touch, sweet as the strains of Israfel in the 
 gardens of Paradise, and thus continued his narration: 
 
CANTO Y. 
 
 Morn rises from dark Nox's side ^^^ 
 
 In pillar'd light, and mounts tiie sky 
 In dreamy beauty, like a bride 
 
 Veiled in the richest taffeti. 
 'Tis not the dawn of Northern skies, 
 Rich as the rain-bow's painted dyes ; 
 'Tis not the light of noon-tide's sun. 
 Bursting through clouds of vapor dun, 
 And throwing over earth and sea 
 A robe of gorgeous drapery ; 
 But like a pillar faint and grey, 
 Arises now the God of Day, 
 Shooting from the dim horizon, 
 Till gradually the rosy tints 
 
 Of young Aurora tinge the sky. 
 And Phoebus every cloud imprints 
 
 With smiles shot from his joyous eye; 
 While o'er the dewy plain below, 
 
 The antelope in gladness plays. 
 And fluttering on the rose-tree's bough, 
 
 The Bulbul chaunts his song of praise. 
 
 "Wake, dearest, wake! — the sky is bright, 
 "The earth is rob'd in flow'rs of spring. 
 
102 CrLZAR, OR TIIK ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 "The Mountain tops are tipped with Hght, 
 
 *' The verdant woods with music ring. 
 "Wake, dearest, wake! — for we are young, 
 
 "And love and youth should fondly stray 
 " To hear the wild-bird's early song, 
 
 "And hail with praise returning day. 
 "Wake, dearest, wake! — it is the hour 
 
 " When Nature's incense scents the air, 
 " When from the gilded Mosque's high tower 
 
 " The Muezzin calls aloud to prayer." 
 In vain! in vain! — no Cumlade 
 
 The Harem's pearly gates unfold, — 
 No fairy hand in joyous glee 
 
 Unbars its bolts of burnished gold. 
 
 0! woman, woman, poorly known! 
 
 A thing of fancy — wayward, coy, — 
 When seated on a regal throne 
 
 How small a trifle mars thy joy! 
 Now fretted with the zephyr's wing 
 
 That on thy cheek too roughly plays, 
 Pleased with the flatterer's oflering, 
 
 The fawning smile of servile praise, 
 Transplant thee to some lonely isle, 
 
 Or in some dungeon's dreary cave. 
 Which never knew hope's joyous smile. 
 
 And give thee but one heart to save ; 
 Then, like an Angel pure and bright, 
 
 Thou shin'st amidst that darkling gloom 
 Like mercy's star — that star of light 
 
 Which lamps the cliambcrs of the tomb. 
 Thy smiles distil a healing i)alm. 
 
 Like G Head's precious balsam tree. 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 103 
 
 Bidding the troubled soul be calm, 
 
 Stilling the heart's tumultuous sea. 
 Thy breast is like a budding rose, 
 
 Enclosing odors richer far 
 Than the soft Zephyrs which disclose 
 
 The aroma breath of famed Cheenar. 
 In grief or joy, in weal or woe, 
 
 Thou stand'st when shrink the strong and brave. 
 O, woman! none thy love can know — 
 
 'Tis deeper, stronger than the grave ! 
 Yet think, O, think not 'tis that thing 
 
 Which wealth can buy, or gold can pay — 
 Like jewel'd brooch or diamond ring, 
 
 Worn for awhile, then cast away. 
 The heart that love's in morning's prime, 
 Loves on through years, thro' endless time. 
 And like the rich frankincense tree, (^' 
 That blooms in happy Araby, 
 When bruised by man, 'tis then he tastes 
 
 The sweetness which that wound distils; 
 Like springs in Kerman's sandy wastes, 
 
 Bright as Teraka's crystal rills. 
 For what is Heaven without the smile 
 Of lovely woman? Ask the skies. 
 The sun, the moon, the golden stars — 
 Those spirits void of fraud and guile, 
 Shining resplendent in their cars. 
 
 They answer one, they answer all — 
 A cheerless, sunless Paradise, 
 
 As Adam felt before his fall. 
 
 Why stands Zohair so sad and lone. 
 Cheerless and mute as the lifeless stone/ 
 
104 Gl'LZAn, OR THE nOSE-BOWER. 
 
 Grief sits imprinted upon his brow, 
 As if his lieart were o'erpower'd with woe. 
 And where has the Light of his Harem fled, 
 With her sylph-like form and her fawn-like tread? 
 Trips she the mead at the break of dawn, 
 Joyous and light as the sportive fawn. 
 Spangling her hair with the pearly dew, 
 
 Freshing her cheek with the rose's bloom, 
 Gemming her eye with the wild-flower's blue, 
 
 And scenting her lips with the myrrh's perfume? 
 Strays she within the almond grove. 
 
 Sits she beneath the cinnamon tree, 
 Breathing the sweets of the flowers of love, ^^'> 
 
 That stray from the isles of the Hemasagaree? 
 No, — far from the Harem's bower is weeping 
 
 The bride of the Chief of high Vellore, 
 For the minions of Hassan have in their keeping 
 
 CuMLADE, the Peri of Chillingore. 
 
 But ZoHAiR knows not of her fate, 
 
 He dreams of but some dark abyss, — 
 Some fatal snare of one whose hate 
 
 Had sworn to blast for life his bliss. 
 For nought of her was heard or seen. 
 
 Save a wild shriek, which they who slept 
 In neighb'ring bow'r heard in their dream. 
 
 Like shriek of one who, struggling, wept. 
 The diamond zone, which oft had braced 
 The rich Cashmere around her waist — 
 Her scarf, rich as the bow of Heaven, 
 
 Inwove with gold from distant Ind — 
 Her nuptial crown, whicii had been given 
 
 By young Zoiiair — were left behind. 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 105 
 
 Like casket when 't has lost its gem, 
 
 Like cage from which the bird had flown, 
 
 Such was the bower of Arazem — 
 
 A lamp from which the light had gone. 
 
 Harmosia's walls are grey with years, ^"^^ 
 
 Her battlements their shadows fling 
 O'er Oman's waves, where lightly play 
 
 With Luna's beam, night's dusky wing. 
 But in that pale moon's silv'ry beam, 
 Ten thousand spears and lances gleam. 
 And from El-Emir's highest tower, 
 Which overlooks the Harem's bower, 
 Al-Hassan's ensign proudly flies, 
 Chief of the daring Osmanlees: 
 Dark is his eye, his scowUng brow 
 
 Is like the Heaven, when veiled in gloom, 
 His cheek scarce feels health's gushing flow, 
 
 His smile cold as the chilly tomb : 
 Yet when that eye is lighted up 
 
 With the wild fire which burns within, 
 And his soul drinks the fatal cup 
 
 Which gave this world a prey to sin, 
 Then, fearful as the tiger's form. 
 
 When gloating o'er its mangled prey, 
 Or spirit of the midnight storm. 
 
 Strewing with death its fatal way, 
 Al-Hassan seems: — but now his wiles 
 Have wreath'd his gloomy brow with smiles. 
 Well pleas'd, he pats dark Munkeir's cheek, 
 
 Commend's old Baba's faithful love, 
 And, smiling, bids them boldly seek 
 
 Some costly gift, that he may prove 
 14 
 
106 GILZAR, Oil THE ROSE-HOWER. 
 
 How dear they are unto his soul : 
 Then raising in his hand the bowl, 
 The ffift of Omar, filled with wine: 
 
 " The pledge be beauty, beauty bright, 
 "As kneeling thus before her shrine, 
 
 "I drink to one whose eye of light 
 
 "Outshines the brilliant star of night — 
 " I drink to her whose dewy lip 
 
 "Great Allah's self might deign to kiss — 
 " Whose cup of love this night I'll sip, 
 
 "And revel in her bower of bliss: 
 "Drink, — Baba, Mi nkeir — drink!" he cries, 
 " He who declines this instant dies ! " 
 Flushed with the wine, he sought the bower 
 
 Where on a silken couch reclined 
 Young CuMLADE, like tender flower 
 
 Drooping before the wint'ry wind, 
 "Thou lov'st me not," he laughing said, 
 
 "Yet thou must be my loving bride: 
 "Thou lov'st me not'— yet I have sworn 
 " To wed thee ere the beams of morn 
 " Illume the sky. To-night, to-night 
 
 " This lilied hand I'll call my own, 
 "And thou, my young Sultana bright, 
 
 "iShall be sole Peri of my throne. 
 "Nay, frown not — him thou canst not wed — 
 
 "The young Zoiiair, thy father's foe: 
 " 'Twas by his sire thy father bled, 
 
 "And CJiillingore was wrapt in woe. 
 " True, when he wrapt thy home in fire, 
 
 " He saved Ihec from the fatal flame, 
 "But wilt thou wed the son, whose sire 
 
 "Wrought death to thee and all thy name? 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 107 
 
 " Nought now remains of Chillingore, 
 
 "Save fireless hearths and broken walls, 
 "Since war's red demon bath'd in gore 
 
 " Her gay saloons and gilded halls : 
 " There fluted columns mouldering lie, 
 
 "Crumblinc; beneath Time's ruthless hand — 
 " There broken altars mock the sky, 
 
 " True imao;e of a ruin'd land. 
 "Then frown not: — him thou wilt not wed — 
 
 "The young Zohair, thy father's foe, — 
 "'Twas by his sire thy kindred bled, 
 
 "And Chillingore was wrapt in woe." 
 
 "Away, vile wretch! — nor dare to blast, 
 
 "With envious breath, my own Zohair, 
 "Nor on the friendless orphan cast 
 
 "A load of grief she cannot bear. 
 "Thou lov'st me not — or if thou dost, 
 
 "Then take me to my natal home, 
 "And woo me, if thou truly lov'st, 
 
 "As woman should be wooed and won: 
 "Restore me to my father's halls, 
 
 "Though nought but grass should lonely wave, — 
 " Say these were once thy country's walls, 
 
 " Here is thy father's silent grave. 
 "But thou, Al-Hassan, lov'st me not — 
 
 " Thy heart is full of fraud and guile, 
 "Thy life one dark, one damning blot, 
 
 " lUum'd by not one radiant smile : 
 " The hawk may nestle with the dove, 
 
 "The lion with the lamb may play, 
 "But think not thou to gain my love — 
 
 "Away ! vile wretch ! — away, away ! " 
 
108 GlHiZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 Slung to the quick, he seized her hand: — 
 
 "Ho, Baba! bring me rosy wine — 
 "The luscious grape of Zamarcand — 
 
 " To-night CuMLADE shall be mine ! " 
 Fired with the draught, he rudely press'd 
 Her lilied cheek, and to his breast 
 Her beating heart he madly drew, 
 Where, gloating o'er her matchless form. 
 
 He tore aside her silken veil. 
 Her snowy bosom bared to view, 
 
 Then triumphed in his deed of hell ! 
 As reels the ship by lightning struck. 
 
 When battling with the foaming wave, 
 And found'ring 'neath the deadly shock, 
 
 She settles in a watery grave. 
 So reel'd the soul of Cumi.ade — 
 Reel'd soul and sense, reel'd heart and eye. 
 "Lost, Allah, lost! — forever gone!" 
 
 She cried in accents deep and wild: 
 " ! thou who rul'st the starry zone, 
 
 " Why didst thou not preserve thy child ! 
 "Yet hear me Hassan: — curst the hand 
 
 " That dared to rob me of my fame, 
 "And stamp'd, as with a burning brand, 
 
 "My stainless breast with deed of shame. 
 "I be thy bride! Not while my heart 
 
 "Know'st good from ill, or guile from truth- 
 " Not while I hate the soul whose art 
 
 "Delights to blast the hopes of youth: 
 "I be thy wife? Curst be the hour 
 
 "When Cumlade ascends thy throne! — 
 "A barren womb, a powerless power, 
 
 "A heart from which the truth is gone. 
 
GIILZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER- 109 
 
 "0! If there is a God in Heaven — 
 
 "And that there is all Nature says — 
 " The sun, the moon, the stars of even, 
 
 "Through boundless space proclaim his praise: — 
 "Go out beneath the arching sky, 
 
 " When night's dark shade unbroken sweeps, 
 "And say there is no God on high, 
 
 "Or that He in that darkness sleeps — 
 "Go when the morn, in car of gold, 
 
 " First heralds in the light of day, 
 "And ask who first its beams unroll'd, 
 
 "Or pav'd with stars the milky way — 
 " Who with the clouds o'erspread the earth, 
 
 " Unchain'd the light'ning's fiery wing, 
 " Who gave the muttering thunders birth, — 
 
 "They'll answer all, 'twas Nature's King: 
 " The thunders of the Heav'n may sleep, 
 "And calm the waters of the deep — 
 "The Prophet's curse may cease to fall 
 "In darkness, like life's dusky pall — 
 " The earthquake's shock may cease to fear 
 "The warrior with his bow and spear — 
 "And thou, Al-Hassan, may declare 
 " There is no God in earth or air, 
 "And laugh to scorn His sacred laws, 
 
 "The lightning's wing, the glooming sky, 
 "And mock the great eternal cause, 
 
 "Whose viewless throne it fix'd on high: 
 "But, Hassan, when thou dreamst of joy, 
 "A hand will all thy pleasures cloy — 
 "A hand thou darest not, canst not see, 
 "Shrouded in awful mystery — 
 " Shall cause thee drink the poison'd cup 
 
110 GrL7AR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 "Whicli Ihou liadst mingled for thy foes, 
 "And make those laws at which you laughed, 
 
 "The avenger of His injured name, 
 " Until corroding cares and woes 
 
 "Strike deep through all thy vital frame: 
 "And then — O, Heaven! thy life will be 
 "One endless scene of misery: 
 " For hear me, Allah, thou who reign'st 
 
 "Amidst the islands of the sky — 
 " Thou who in mercy humbly deign'st 
 
 "To hear the suppliant mourner's cry, — 
 "O! let no peace Al-Hassan bless, 
 "No joy be his in time's abyss — 
 "His sleep be dreams of endless pain, 
 
 "His wakina: hours be fraught with grief, 
 "'Till madness snaps life's silver chain, 
 "Yet find in death no sweet relief!" 
 She rais'd her eyes aloft to Heaven, 
 
 As one entranced, and inly pray'd, 
 While the last golden beam of even ' 
 Around her lips in gladness play'd : 
 "Allah! Great Allah! — God Divine! 
 " Pardon in love this soul of mine ! 
 " Monimia, guardian of my youth, 
 "Thou knowest my heart was form'd in trutii: 
 "Yet if from virtue's path e'er strayed, 
 " In childhood's years, thy Persian maid, 
 " Or when maturer years had thrown 
 " The bands of love around the zone 
 " Of my fond heart, and bade it dream 
 " Of sunny lands and cloudless skies, 
 "And, 'stead of Heaven's celestial scene, 
 "I made this earth my Paradise, 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. Ill 
 
 " Pardon this poor, this erring breast, 
 
 "Thy arms of love around me fling, 
 " Where I may sleep 'till Angels blest 
 
 " With Mah'my come, and Heaven's Great King, 
 "The Glorious Allah, robed in light, 
 "Comes in the sky to judge the dead, ' 
 
 " Bursting the confines of the grave, 
 "And calling from their sea-clad bed 
 
 "The sleepers 'neath the Ocean's wave. 
 
 "Yes, life is sweet — and few will dare 
 
 " To brave the dangers of that wave 
 " O'er which no beacon's fitful glare 
 
 " Beams from the world beyond the grave : 
 "Yet I will dare it — time nor tide 
 " Shall ever see me Hassan's bride ! " 
 She ceas'd — and like the lightning's beam, 
 A dagger in her hand did gleam: 
 One look she cast upon the sky. 
 
 One look upon the blooming earth. 
 Then with a steady hand and eye 
 
 She struck the fatal cord of death ! 
 Life issued from the wound: — she fell , 
 
 As falls the hart on mountain's crest. 
 Or like the soft-eyed young gazelle, '■^'> 
 
 With weapon rankling in her breast. 
 
 Aghast Al-Hassan trembling stood, 
 His guilty hands bestain'd with blood. 
 For he had tried from death to save 
 
 The frantic maid, but tried in vain — 
 Too fatal was the wound she ffave: 
 
 Nor life, nor hope for her remain. 
 
112 GULZAR, on THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 His eyes glare with unearthly fire, 
 
 His quivering lips, in accents wild, 
 Curse the dark hour when in his ire 
 
 He stain'd with guilt El-Ac»iut's child: 
 " But thou art gone, O ! lovely maid, 
 
 "Where sorrow ne'er can shade thy brow — 
 " The crimson cloud thy car is made, 
 
 " To waft thee from this world below. 
 "O! were Zoiiair but by thy side, 
 
 " How fondly would I make him thine ! 
 " O ! how I curse the hour of pride, 
 
 " When, stung with rage, I made thee mine ! 
 " Yet thou hadst taught my soul to dare 
 
 "A deed which only love could plead — 
 "A crime for which corroding care 
 
 " Upon my peace for aye must feed. 
 "Farewell! — and if in worlds more blest 
 
 " Thy soul should find a fitter sphere, 
 " Soft be thy pillow, sweet thy rest, 
 
 " To soothe thee for thy sufferings here." 
 
 Beneath the weeping willow-tree 
 Was laid the ill-fated Cumlade: 
 It is a wild and lonely place. 
 
 Unfit for life's last closing scene — 
 Around or near no one can trace 
 
 That e'er the foot of man had been: — 
 Trees, dark and gloomy, wave their shades 
 
 O'er pois'nous weeds and noxious fiowers, 
 And joyous morning blooms and fades 
 
 Unknown within its darksome bowers — 
 The silv'ry moon-beam never plays 
 
 Among its long and waving grass 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 113 
 
 Which springs, luxuriates, and decays, 
 
 Nor bird, nor beast will near it pass — • 
 And, save Cumlade's silent grave, 
 
 No sign of life or death is there : 
 Dreary and lone as Eblis cave. 
 
 As if debarred from light and air, — 
 No stone is there to mark the spot 
 
 Where low in dust Cumlade sleeps, 
 By friend and foe alike forgot. 
 
 Save young Zohair, who o'er her weeps. 
 
 "And art thou lowly laid," he said, 
 "My own, my fond lov'd Persian maid! 
 " In vain for thee the acacias wave 
 
 "Their perfum'd blossoms, white as snow, 
 " For thou art laid in lonesome grave, 
 
 " O'er which night's breeze is mourning low. 
 "Wan, wan is now that rosy cheek, 
 
 "Where once the tlowers of gladness bloom'd, 
 "And pale is now that ruby lip 
 
 "Which once Arabia's myrrh perfum'd, — 
 "Dim is the lustre of those eyes 
 
 " On which I've gazed so long and deep, 
 "And cold as winter's freezing skies 
 
 "Is the lone breast o'er which I weep: 
 " Thy bridal feast is with the dead, 
 
 "The dews of night thy mariage wine, 
 "The lonely tomb thy nuptial bed — 
 
 "O, that the grave was also mine! 
 "Curse, curse Al-Hassan's daring hand — 
 
 " Woe, endless woe be doom'd his fate, 
 "For here upon my father's brand, 
 
 "I swear to him eternal hate! 
 15 
 
114 Gl LZAR, OR THE nOSE-BOWER. 
 
 "Ah! did lie think when thou wert low, 
 " Secreted in this gloom-wrapt grove, 
 
 *' That none would hear, that none would know, 
 "Where slept the victim of his love? 
 
 " In vain the murd'rer dreams of peace, 
 
 " In vain night's mantle 'round him draws, 
 " In vain he bids that anguish cease 
 
 "Which his lost soul remorseless gnaws: 
 "Fool! did he think that vengeance slept 
 
 "Because long years had roU'd away — 
 "That memory's page no record kept 
 
 "Of crimes done on a former day? 
 "Why shrinks he from the cloud of night? 
 
 " Why does he fear each echoing sound ? 
 "Why wakes he from his dreams in fright, 
 
 "And wildly glares on all around? 
 " He sees a form no one can see, 
 
 "He hears a voice no one can hear, — 
 "The death-shriek of Young Cumlade 
 
 "Thrills wildly on his frenzied ear: 
 "The bird that through the welkin flies 
 
 "Proclaims aloud Al-Hassan's crime — 
 " 'Tis graven on the azure skies, 
 
 "'Tis written on the wing of time: 
 "But thou, my fond-lov'd Persian maid, 
 
 "Sleep'st the long sleep which knows no waking, 
 " Until the night of death has fled, 
 
 "And morn upon the grave is breaking: 
 "Then, beauteous as young Nourmaiial, 
 
 " Or Nature, when the voice of spring 
 "Wakes the sweet flowers, and night's dark i»all 
 
 "Morn casts away with radiant wing. 
 
'^ ' GULZAU, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 115 
 
 "Then thou arrayed in robe divine, 
 
 " Wilt burst the cerements of the tomb, 
 "And with celestial beauty shine 
 
 "With Allah, in eternal bloom." 
 
 Such were the thoughts and words of one 
 
 Whose heart was blighted at its core, 
 As by her grave, so drear and lone, 
 
 His heart bemoaned in anguish sore. 
 And oft when evening's closing shades 
 The weary world with sleep pervades, 
 Bids man from worldly cares be blest, 
 In peace's bosom calmly rest — 
 When all is hushed on earth and sky, 
 
 And spirits from the realms of light, 
 In robes of glory, hover nigh, 
 
 Or on the fragrant earth alight, 
 ZoHAiR would leave his princely throne, 
 And seek the dreary wild alone, 
 And there, in silence dark and deep. 
 
 Commune in spirit with the dead, 
 And with the stars night's vigils keep, 
 
 Bathing with tears her lonely bed. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO V. 
 
 (1) " Morn rises from dark Nox's side, 
 
 In pillarM light, and mounts the sky." 
 "I was much delig'hted one morning here with viewing the 
 natural phenomenon of sunrise. On turning my eye towards the 
 east, I could perceive the first appearance of day : it was not dawn, 
 but a mere greyish pillar of light, sliooting from the horizon up- 
 wards, in the shape of a comet's tail, but without lustre. By- 
 and-by the stratum of clouds over this expansion displayed the 
 roseate hue of morn, and the whole Heavens became illuminated." 
 — Adams's History of India. 
 
 (2) "And like the rich frankintense tree, 
 That blooms in happy Araby." 
 
 "The mimosa nihtica, or frankincense tree of Arabia. The gum 
 is obtained by making an incision in the tree, from wliicli oozes 
 the gum or rosin. It was much used by the Jews as an ingredient 
 in the incense of their Sanctuary." — Arabian History. 
 
 (3) "Breathing the sweets of the flowers of love, 
 That stray from the isles of Hemasagaree." 
 
 The Spice Islands, or the Moluccas, lying in the Indian Ocean. 
 
 (4) " Harmosia's walls are grey with years." 
 
 "A seaport in the Gulf of Ormuz, commonly called Gombroon. 
 It was rendered, by Shah Abbas, the emporium of Persian Com- 
 merce." — Encyclopedia of Geography. 
 
118 GLLZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 (5) " Or like the soft-eyed young gazelle." 
 
 " It is called by the Persians tzciran. Its size is small ; the eyes 
 large and dark, and peculiarly expressive of softness ; all its move- 
 ments are replete with grace, agility, and timidity." — Encyclo- 
 pedia OF Geogeafiiy. 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 119 
 
 Long before the Harper had ceased his numbers, com- 
 motion and murmuring were heard among the nobles 
 of Aga. The Prince of Kerman frowned gloomily on 
 the Dervise, and his eye sparkled with the fire of death ; 
 his hand grasped firmly his sparkling dagger, and nothing 
 save the august presence of the King, kept him from im- 
 bruing his hands in the blood of Humza. The life of the 
 Prince had been one of guilt: the flower of the desert 
 had been blighted by his passion, and the rose of the 
 valley had fallen a victim to his lust. In the portrait 
 of Al-Hassan, he discovered that of his own life, and 
 he swore revenge against the Dervise for daring to con- 
 demn his conduct; but Aga, not appearing to notice the 
 menaces of the Prince, arose from his throne, and put 
 the chain of gold around the neck of IIu3iza, and placed 
 him by the side of Gulzar, as the guardian of his child. 
 
 The next was the chief day of the festival, when the 
 lists should be thrown open, and the youth of Persia 
 should try their prowess on the tented field, — when 
 Chief should challenge Chief, without regard to age or 
 rank, so that all who wished could have an opportunity 
 of showing their skill in arms. 
 
 The Shah had pitched his tent on a plain adjoining 
 the city; and Kerman's haughty Prince had challenged 
 the youth of Iran to single combat in honor of the 
 Princess's recovery, as he claimed precedence to her 
 hand, and her favor was to be the victor's reward. The 
 lists were prepared under the direction of the King in 
 person ; for he loved to stimulate the youth of his King- 
 dom to the glory of arms. A balcony was prepared for 
 
120 OrLZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 the Shah and the ladies of the Court, where, seated in his 
 robes of State, with the Princess Gulzau by his side, 
 who was dressed in robes of the richest velvet, with a 
 circlet of virgin gold, set with the most precious gems, 
 for a turban, he received the homage of his Kingdom. 
 Each Chieftain, as he entered the lists, bowed low to 
 the aged Monarch, and kissed the tip of the golden 
 sceptre, in token of submission and fealty to his thi'one. 
 But the cheek of the Princess was pale as the lilies of 
 the valley, and her heart throbbed wildly within her 
 bosom: whilst at a distance stood the Dervise, clad in 
 his plain and humble tunic, gazing on the assembled 
 multitude with a carelessness of manner, as if the sports 
 of the day were to him of small moment. 
 
 Yet it was the hand of the Princess, or a sum equal 
 to her dowry, that the Shall had ofl'ered to him who 
 should restore his child to health and beauty. Now she 
 is again lovely and fair as when the King named her 
 his lavorite daughter, "Gulzar-e-1uan," the Hose-Bower 
 of Iran, but where is the bond of the King? 
 
 "Put not thy trust in Princes," were the words of 
 wisdom, "nor thy faith in riches," whispered the humble 
 Dervise. 
 
 But hark! The trumpet sounds and the lists are 
 clearing for action, and, eager for the combat, the 
 young Chief of Fars enters the field of glory. Young 
 in years but daring in his nature, he has struck the shield 
 of the Emeer of Irak, and dared him to the combat; 
 who, nothing loth to break a lance with the young 
 Chieftain, accepted the challenge, and entered the lists. 
 Armed cap-a-pie, with lances in rest, each spurred his 
 horse to the encounter, resolving to win the smile of 
 beauty and the applause of the Shah; but the spear of 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 121 
 
 Fars was too light for the shield of Irak's warlike Emeer, 
 and it snapt in twain as it struck his shield, leaving its 
 master unhorsed and prostrate on the field. Again the 
 trumpet sounded, and the noble Chief of Chusistan 
 entered the lists, but his arm was too weak to battle 
 with that of Irak's chieftain, for at the first onset he 
 was pitched from his saddle like a bolt irom a bow, 
 whilst his horse curvetted around the ring, much to the 
 amusement of the crowd. 
 
 Silence prevailed over the tented field, and few dared 
 to enter the lists against the well-tried spear of Irak's 
 Lord. Gloomily on iiis war-horse sat the Prince of 
 Kerman, afraid to dare the combat, or match his skill 
 against the spear of his rival; but the challenge was his 
 own, and he must abide the result, or lose his honor and 
 the hand of the lovely Gulzak. 
 
 Thrice had the trumpet sounded, and thrice had the 
 warlike Emeer walked his horse round the enclosure, as 
 Kerman's Prince sat resolving and re-resolving what to 
 do. One minute more and the trumpet would sound its 
 last notes of defiance, and the hand of the Princess 
 would elude him forever: when — "Make way! make 
 way ! " was heard among the crowd, and a Chief, armed 
 cap-a-pie, entered in the enclosure, and struck the shield 
 of the warlike Emeer such a blow with his mailed hand 
 as made the fire flash from the eyes of the haughty 
 chieftain, who had till then flattered himself that the 
 prize was his own. Every eye was fixed on the youth- 
 ful warrior, and the heart of Gulzar leapt for joy, in 
 the hope that it was her own Mirza, but he wore not 
 the plume of Abbas, and his equipment was that of a 
 Kurd. Slowly she closed her eyes, and sighed deeply, 
 as if her heart was oppressed with grief. 
 16 
 
122 GlLZAn, oil THE rose-b'o>^er. 
 
 On a stout war-horse, of the darkest jet, the Kurdish 
 Chieftain met the glance of the Emeer. His breast 
 was defended by a steel corselet, embossed, and inlaid 
 with gold and silver; his pistols and dagger were stuck 
 in his girdle, and a small cymetar hung by his side; his 
 lance lay gracefully in its rest. Many a heart beat 
 anxiously for the youthful stranger, as he rode around 
 the lists, bowing to the veiled yet fair daughters of Iran. 
 All wished that he might overcome the haughty Chieftain 
 of Irak, but all feared the result of the encounter. 
 
 At the sound of the trumpet, he gracefully reined up 
 his charger, and taking a sweep of half the circle, 
 rushed to the combat with a lion's speed. Then was 
 every eye strained to witness the fearful onset, and every 
 car was listening to hear the name of the victor. But 
 it was but for a moment; for, emerging from the cloud 
 of dust which the encounter raised around them, the 
 black war-horse of the Kurd, with his gallant rider, rode 
 triumphantly over the lield, while the Lord of Irak lay 
 unhorsed on the ground. Then rung the air with the 
 sound of victory; and the cheek of the Princess crim- 
 soned with blushes as the noble Kurd bent on his war- 
 horse before the throne of her father, and kissed the 
 golden sceptre as a token of his fealty, and her fond 
 heart beat (piick as her eye met the dark eye of the 
 Chieftain, for she knew it was her OAvn Abhas Mirza, 
 and none but he. 
 
 The trumpet has again sounded, and the Prince of 
 Kermau enters the lists of fame. Richly caparisoned, 
 his war-horse curvetted and fretted around the enclosure, 
 while its master vainly endeavored to soothe and calm 
 it down. The Prince was dressed in a most gorgeous 
 costume of black velvet, over which was seen a shirt of 
 
OULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 123 
 
 the finest mail; his spear was carried by one of his 
 desert warriors, who with its point struck tiie shield of 
 the Kurdish Chieftain. This was to be the last en- 
 counter, and he who should come oft' the victor, would 
 receive the hand of the lovely Gulzar, ranking next in 
 dignity to the Shah hhnself. 
 
 Eagerly did the King scan the bearing of each Chief- 
 tain, and measure the chances that were against his 
 favorite Prince, for he had promised him the hand of his 
 daughter in marriage, if he came off' with honor on the 
 field of fame; and when he viewed the calm and gallant 
 manner of the stranger, and compared it with that of 
 the Prince, his heart foreboded defeat to the latter, yet 
 he hoped something might occur so as to give him the 
 victory. But the Shah was not long held in doubt, for at 
 the first onset the horse of the Prince shrank and bolted 
 from the track, leaving its master rolling on the ground, 
 but untouched by the Kurdish spear, who, ashamed at 
 the result, arose from the scene of disgrace and, bowing 
 haughtily to the King, withdrew from the field amidst 
 the laugh of the multitude. 
 
 "The Kurd! the Kurd!" was proclaimed by a thou- 
 sand voices, and the Shah requested that he might be 
 brought before him, to receive honor from his royal 
 hand, and the sunny smile of the Princess, who now 
 almost wept for joy. But nowhere could he be found 
 — both horse and Chief were gone: none knew from 
 whence they came and none knew whither they went. 
 Great was the consternation in Teheran, and the brow 
 of the King was wrapt in gloom; but the heart of 
 Gulzar was glad, and her merry laugh was heard to 
 ring through the halls of the Harem, and the Dervise 
 rejoiced in the convalescence of his ward. 
 
124 OUl.ZAR, OR Tlin ROSF.-nOWER. 
 
 During the remainder of the day nothing was talked 
 of but the gallant Kurd and his jet-black steed. Yet 
 some whispered that it was none other than the evil 
 spirit AiiRiMAN, on his fatal horse Kharfester, for that 
 none save he could have overcome the noble Prince of 
 Kerman, or have conquered the warlike Emeer of Irak. 
 That night the Magi were consulted, and the Imams 
 prayed that the fatal spear of Ahriman might be kept 
 far from the house of Aga. 
 
 The succeeding day was one of banquet and carousal, 
 ordered to atone for the misfortune of the former; and 
 the discomfitted Chieftains consoled themselves that they 
 were only conquered by the evil one, or the power of 
 magic, and that the hand of Gulzar was still open for 
 competition, as no knight had claimed the victor's 
 reward. 
 
 Again were assembled in the Hall of Audience all the 
 wealth and beauty of Iran, and the minstrels were there 
 with their harps, to sing in praise of their native Chief- 
 tains, at the sight of which Gulzar reminded her father 
 of his promise to allow the Dervise to repeat the re- 
 mainder of his tale, as all were anxious to know the 
 fate of Al-Hassan, and if he fell by the sword of the 
 gallant Zoiiair. At the request of the Shah, Humza 
 took again the harp, and kneeling before the throne, 
 thus beijan. 
 
CANTO VI. 
 
 'Tis mid-night, and the camp's watch-fires 
 
 Burn dimly, whilst the gentle moon, 
 Shining amidst the starry choirs, 
 
 Silvers the walls of Gomberoon. 
 The wearied soldier on his arms 
 Sleeps calmly, void of war's alarms ; 
 The mighty war horse, champing, stands 
 Or slumbers upon Oman's sands, — 
 While round the camp the sentinel, 
 
 Like some lone spirit, silently 
 Walks in the gloom of night's dark pall, 
 
 List'ning if aught he can descry. 
 
 How still is night! The crystal wave 
 That plays in Oman's coral cave, 
 The pearly dews that softly fall 
 
 Upon the rose's crimson cheek, 
 And the young zephyr's gentle call. 
 
 Waking the violet mild and meek, 
 Breaks on the ear in music low, 
 
 While 'midst the myrtle leaves the wind 
 Sighs like some heart surcharged with woe. 
 
 Mourning the death of some lov'd friend. 
 
126 GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 But hark ! I hear the muezzin's call : 
 
 It is that dark and dreary hour 
 When night walks thro' earth's ebon hall, 
 
 And nature bends beneath her power. 
 See yon dark cloud, how noislessly 
 
 It sails along the azure sky: 
 And look! within its canopy 
 
 Sits night's lone queen, with joyless eye. 
 The sapphire stars, like jewels bright, 
 
 Sparkle upon her velvet shroud, 
 As proudly steps the queen of night 
 
 From out her gloom-wrapt car, the cloud. 
 The stars grow dim beneath her frown, 
 
 The burning planets fainter glow. 
 Upon her head she wears a crown 
 
 Of leaves plucked from the cypress bough: 
 Her step is on the curling waves, 
 
 I hear the sweeping of her train 
 Rustling amidst the laurel leaves 
 
 That lifeless strew El-Bunder's plain. 
 This is the bride of ancient Time — 
 
 The queen of chaos — from whose womb 
 Arose the world in vernal prime, 
 
 E'er earth or man had shared their doom. 
 
 What is this world on which I tread? <^^ 
 
 Those brilliant stars that o'er me shine? 
 How great the pow'r that o'er me spread 
 
 Heaven's sapphire banner-work divine! 
 If from the dark and dread abyss 
 
 Of gloomy chaos sprang to light 
 So fair a world, ye spheres of bliss, 
 
 Shining upon the brow of night. 
 
OULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 127 
 
 Tell me, from whence your brilliancy ? 
 
 O, tell me who and what ye are, 
 That I may view with gifted eye 
 
 The fortunes of each burning star. 
 Ye answer not — but there ye shine, 
 
 Bright, beautiful, thro' boundless space, 
 Undimmed by age, unsoiled by crime, 
 
 Rejoicing in your endless race. 
 Earth groans with years, her hills decay. 
 
 Her fairest flowers bloom but to fade, 
 The eternal mountains melt away. 
 
 And grey with age is Nature's head ; 
 The Ocean, she who proudly laughs 
 
 At wearied Earth, still onward rolls 
 Her booming waters, as she quaffs 
 
 The life-blood of the zone and poles : 
 But she, e'en she, by course of years, 
 
 Must be a thing of memory — 
 Though now her head she proudly rears, 
 
 Scorning her fatal destiny. 
 
 "God of my fathers ! — Mah'my's God! 
 
 " Whose throne is Heaven, whose car the cloud, 
 
 "Whose chariot is the viewless wind, 
 
 "Before whom Earth and Ocean bend, 
 
 " Before whose throne Archangels kneel, 
 
 "And chaunt on golden harps thy praise — 
 " Whose power the damned spirits feel, 
 
 "Whose love creation's work displays — 
 " Behold a suppliant lowly bow 
 " Before thy throne of mercy now ; 
 " Thou Eternal One, whose fiat brought 
 
 " From nothingness this beauteous world, 
 
128 GULZAK, Oil THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 "And Heaven's star-cinctured banner wrought, 
 
 " Wliich o'er creation's night unfurl'd, 
 "Thou saidst 'Let light be' — and light was, 
 
 " Obedient to Thy high command. 
 "Through darksome night its rays did pass, 
 
 "And cheer'd with life a sunless land — 
 "Thou spak'st, and back the foaming sea 
 "lloll'd its wild waves tumultuously; 
 " Earth deck'd herself in robes of green, 
 
 " With silvery lake and crystal rill. 
 " Well pleas'd, Thou bless'd the glorious scene 
 
 "Wliich rose obedient to Thy will, 
 "And when the Day-God rose in light, 
 "From the soft couch of ebon night, 
 "And rolling up the arch of Heaven 
 
 " His golden car, and from above 
 " Beheld this world, like star of even, 
 
 " Reflecting back his beams of love, 
 "He sung for joy, — and all the choirs 
 " Which circled 'round him struck their lyres, 
 "And welcom'd to their joyous throng 
 " The new-born orb with heavenly song. 
 "The Earth is Thine — each hill and dale, 
 
 "The birds that fly the ambient air, 
 " The beasts that roam in verdant vale 
 
 " Or burning desert own Thy care : 
 "But chiefly man! — for Thou hast given 
 "To him dominion under Heaven, 
 "And with Thy image stamp'd his soul, 
 
 "As with a diamond signet-ring, 
 "And given him power from pole to pole 
 
 "To rule as doth a crowned King. 
 " If this be su, then why should man 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 129 
 
 " With sceptic mind Thy actions scan, 
 "And dare to doubt, with impious soul, 
 " The power of Allah to control 
 "The laws which rule the earth and sky, 
 
 "Whose wisdom, goodness, strength, and truth 
 " The Heavens proclaim to every eye, 
 
 "From hoary age to sportive youth? 
 " Great Allah let me still recline ^^'> 
 "Upon that arm and shield of thine, — 
 " That arm that smote the daring hand 
 
 " Which strove to shake thy Prophet's throne, 
 " That shield 'neath which his fainting band 
 
 "Protection found, when death's red spear 
 " Had on the field the bravest strewn 
 
 "Like wither'd leaves in autumn sear, 
 "And Hope's pure flame in Mah'mv's breast 
 
 "Burnt faint and dim, and all was lost 
 "Had not Thy arm his wrongs redrest, 
 
 "And crushed for aye the impious host 
 " Who triumphed in that field of death." 
 
 Thus Hamet mused before he flung 
 
 Himself upon his leafy couch: 
 His heart's life-cords with faith were strung. 
 
 Responsive to the lightest touch. 
 But who is Hamet, at whose words, (^) 
 Like lightning leap ten thousand swords — 
 Whose voice commands the stormy tide 
 Of yon dark host on Oman's side? 
 A dream is o'er him — and his soul 
 
 In mem'ry flies to Ispahand, 
 Like arrow to the distant goal. 
 
 Shot by a skilful archer's hand. 
 17 
 
130 GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 The waters of the Zenderoud 
 
 Are glancing brightly in the sun, 
 Save where Zem's dungeon, like a cloud, 
 
 Casts o'er their breast its shadow dun, 
 And, save the Harem's minarets 
 
 And gilded domes, which brightly gleam 
 Upon its breast, away it leaps 
 
 Like thing of life in morning's beam. 
 But all is silence in those halls, 
 
 Save the lone mourning sound of woe. 
 Re-echoed by the massive walls. 
 
 True to the plaint of friend or foe. 
 
 Silence is deep o'er Ispahand, 
 
 And sorrow reigns o'er all the land, 
 
 For treason stalks, with stealthy step. 
 
 From Gomberoon to Al-Calep, 
 
 And 'round the watch-word (juickly flies: 
 
 " This night, by steel, great Nadir dies, 
 
 " When o'er the heights of Louristan 
 
 " Shines the last rays of evening's sun, 
 
 "And Nadir with young An seeks 
 
 "The grave where low Ayesiia sleeps. 
 
 " MoLssA be there, and Hussuff too, 
 
 "With Baba, Zeba — all, my friends, 
 "True to the time as when the dew 
 
 " From Heaven's black arch at eve descends. 
 Thus Hassan spoke. 
 
 Away! away! 
 Fast flies the light of closing day ! 
 Sol's golden rays now scarcely tinge 
 The Harem's roof, and Kornah's stream, 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 131 
 
 As with a veil, the acacias fringe, 
 
 Half shading evening's purple beam, 
 Whilst sweetly 'midst the rose's leaves 
 His tale of love the bulbul breathes. 
 And, borne upon the balmy bree;^e. 
 The fire-flies flit among the trees ; 
 And now the Muezzin from the tower 
 Proclaims aloud the evening hour. 
 When every knee is made incline 
 In prayer at Mecca's sacred shrine; 
 And as the lingering rays of day 
 Melted in dimness fast away. 
 And Luna, with her silv'ry beam, 
 Kiss'd the pure breast of Kornah's stream. 
 Great Nadir left the Harem's bower 
 
 For 'Yesiia's grave, to mourn awhile, 
 And Ali, at that pleasing hour. 
 
 He there would meet, and there beguile 
 Their deathless sorrows. 
 
 Hark ! a sound ! 
 Like noiseless step on sacred ground ! 
 'Twas but the wind amidst the leaves. 
 
 Or red-bird in the almond-grove. 
 Seeking its mate at dewy eve, 
 
 To tell its melting tale of love. 
 
 The simoom's breath had swept the land, 
 And sorrow reign'd o'er Ispahand, 
 For, like the plague, where'er it pass'dj 
 They who inhaled it breathed their last: 
 Some lay convuls'd with torturing pain. 
 Till madness seiz'd the burning brain, 
 
132 GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 And some were blasted like the pine, 
 
 Struck by the lightning's lurid wing, 
 And some by lone yet sure decline, 
 
 Upon death's grave stood hovering. 
 Then Famine raised her hungry maw, 
 Scorning alike both king and law: 
 The fields were left untill'd, and men 
 Grew like the beasts of brake and fen, 
 And on each other looked as they 
 Were doomed to be each other's prey ; 
 While those who hated Nadir's line 
 Began in secret to repine. 
 And talk'd that blood, and blood alone, 
 Was made the base of Nadir's throne. 
 And that the Samiel's wind was sent 
 By Allah as a punishment 
 For Nadir's crimes, and nought would stay 
 Great Allah's anger save the blood 
 Of Nadir, for they deem'd his crimes 
 Were numerous as the clouds of day, 
 
 When thousands veil the vaulted sky. 
 Or leaves that clothe the deep green wood, 
 
 Or sands that by the ocean lie. 
 And Hassan joined the trait'rous band — 
 
 He who had been by Nadir rais'd 
 To power and might in Ispahand, 
 
 He who by Nadir oft was prais'd, 
 And named the Chief of Louristand: 
 
 Bold as a lion in the field, 
 And, save young Ali's, Iranstand 
 
 Owned not a braver sword and shield. 
 But he was guileful as the snake. 
 
 And treach'rous as the shifting sand, 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 133 
 
 And ruthless as the fiery flake 
 
 Thrown by the siroc's baneful hand. 
 His youth was pass'd in sweet Shiraz, 
 
 Amidst the gardens of the sun, 
 Where every flower that is or was, 
 
 Was blooming to be gazed upon ; 
 And he had with Ayesiia spent 
 
 Youth's happiest, brightest, dearest hour: 
 Where'er he roamed, where'er he went. 
 
 She was to him his guiding star. 
 Until young Ali sought the bower 
 
 Of sweet Shiraz, and gain'd her love. 
 Then fled his kindness, and his soul 
 
 Turn'd like the fated fiend of hell, 
 Despising each and all control — 
 He swore their happy loves to mar, 
 
 And by his wiles Ayesiia fell. 
 The cloud of night has veil'd the sky, 
 
 As with a mantle dark and deep, 
 And not one star is seen on high. 
 
 The watches of the night to keep. 
 Why lingers Nadir by the tomb. 
 When nature wears so dread a gloom? 
 Does Ali's heart no warning feel, 
 Does nature to his breast reveal 
 No inward symptom? 'Tis the hour 
 
 Which Hassan with his murd'rous band 
 Have set to blast the royal power 
 
 Of him from whom he holds his brand. 
 Great Allah ! not one thought of fear 
 The breasts of Nadir, Ali bea^i'! 
 Fear, danger? These are thoughts which they 
 In life or death had never felt, 
 
134 OIJLZAn, OR THE ROSE-BOWEU. 
 
 And now to fear at close of day, 
 
 As by Ayesiia's grave they knelt? 
 Away the thought! They would not fear 
 Although a thousand darts should rear 
 Their steely points around their heads — 
 
 The grave by which they mourning kneel 
 May be to them their gory bed, 
 
 But fear ! no ! they cannot feel ! 
 
 As glides the spectre from the tomb, ^''^ 
 
 With noiseless step and form of air, 
 So glides Al-Hassan thro' the gloom, 
 
 The damning deed of death to dare. 
 But not alone he draws his sword, 
 Five hundred slaves obey his word: 
 E'en now they circle round that spot 
 
 Where low in death Ayesiia sleeps, 
 Their perjured souls to stain with blood 
 
 With crimes at which fair nature weeps. 
 As bounds the lion in his lair, 
 
 When foes surround on every side. 
 So leai)'d young Ai.i from the grave 
 
 Of her who lately was his bride. 
 And as the rock in ocean's wave, 
 
 Great Nadir met his trait'rous foe; 
 And long he foil'd his sword and spear, 
 
 And dealt full many a fatal blow. 
 He placed his foot against the grave. 
 
 The tomb of her he fondly loved. 
 While round him swept his trusty glave 
 
 Sword that was oft in battle prov'd. 
 IIarfa and Ekmut, Zeha dies, 
 And Tamasp, Hoofer bleeding lies, 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 135 
 
 MiFRA and Moussa sleep in death, 
 And Teriiand struggling pants for breath — 
 Yet on they push their swarthy forms, 
 Like angry clouds 'fore thunder storms. 
 On, on they rush! and Hassan calls — 
 " Heaven is the home of him who falls ! " 
 On, on they come! and Siiapoor's soul 
 
 By Ali's sword is sent to hell — 
 KiRBA and MuFRoo, Ormuzol, 
 
 As struck by lightning, lifeless fell. 
 
 Now well nigh had the traitors fled, 
 And Hassan's life the treason paid, 
 But Nadir, fighting 'midst the blood 
 That flowed around him like a flood 
 Of liquid life, had slipped his ground, 
 
 And fell amidst the gory tide, 
 Which Ali saw, and with one bound 
 
 Stood by the fallen warrior's side. 
 But round them quick the traitors close, 
 And fast and furious fell their blows. 
 Till spear of friend crossed friendly spear. 
 
 And traitors' breasts met traitors' steel, 
 O ! could the heart of Nadir fear, 
 
 Now was the time that pang to feel, 
 For still they press'd as if to brave 
 The pains of death and find a grave. 
 And many a traitors' soul was sent 
 To Munkeir's bar for punishment — 
 For heads fell like autumnal leaves 
 In forest deep, when Boreas breathes, 
 And blood bestained the verdant sod, 
 Till all the ground on which they trod 
 
136 GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 Was slippery as the icy brook, 
 
 And Kornah's stream that once so bright, 
 
 Now wore a dark and troubled look, 
 Like moon eclipsed at dead of night. 
 
 0! could but Nadir once regain 
 Firm footing on that gory plain, 
 Then might the tide of battle turn, 
 And Hassan find a living urn. 
 But all in vain! — dark Hassan came. 
 
 And in the rising warrior's side 
 Plunged his cursed sword with deadly aim. 
 
 Forth flowed the heart's-blood crimson-tide, 
 And bleeding by him faintly falls 
 
 The hope and flower of Iranstand. 
 In vain for aid he feebly calls — 
 
 Dark Hassan rules his native land: 
 In vain he call'd, for Nadir slept 
 
 Death's long, and lonely, dreamless sleep, 
 And he who o'er Ayesiia wept 
 
 No more shall ever mourn or weep. 
 " He sleeps his last sleep, he has fought his last battle, 
 
 "The dews of the night rust his sword and his spear, 
 " No more on his ear will the war carriage rattle, 
 
 "The warrior is lonely and cold on his bier; 
 " He fell in his age, by the hand of a traitor, 
 
 "His sword it was wet with the blood of a slave"; 
 The plume that was first on the field of Moorchacor, 
 
 By Hassan was trampled in dust by his grave. 
 He fell in his age, like the oak of the mountain 
 
 Uptorn from its root by the blast of the sky. 
 His home it is childless, and broken his fountain, 
 
 And lowly that penant that fluttered so high. 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 137 
 
 Let Delhi rejoice — Memanhdost and Sirderra, 
 
 Affghanistan's dark maidens no longer be sad, 
 The Lord of the Caspian, Kharizm, Bokhara, 
 
 Has fought his last field, and in death's robes is clad. 
 He sleeps his last sleep, he has fought his last battle, 
 
 The dews of the night rust his sword and his spear. 
 No more on his ear will the war-carriage rattle, 
 
 The warrior is lonely and cold on his bier. 
 
 There is a cell in Zem's dark tower. 
 
 In which the sun-beam never play'd. 
 From which, at midnight's dreary hour, 
 
 Enough to make the soul afraid, — 
 Wild shrieks have come, and sighs have burst 
 As if some breast by fiends accurs'd 
 Was tortur'd, till the maddening pain 
 
 Would thrill the vitals of the heart; 
 Then all would be so still again. 
 
 The slightest sound would make you start. 
 Within that tower a captive lay, 
 Chain'd to the damp and clammy clay. 
 His beard was long and duskv white. 
 
 His eye, sunk 'neath his haggard brow, 
 Was motionless, and dark as night; 
 
 That brow, impressed with stamp of woe 
 And suffering keen ; his thin grey hair 
 
 Hung round his shoulders, and his cheek 
 Was bloodless, as if cold despair 
 
 Had chill'd his soul, his limbs were weak 
 As the green willow by the brook ; 
 
 His lips were speechless as the grave, 
 
 18 
 
138 GULZAU, OR THE ROSK-BOWKR. 
 
 Yet by his dark and fiendish look 
 
 You well could tell who in that cave 
 Slept death's unbroken, dreamless sleep : 
 'Twas Ykman! God of heav'n defend 
 
 The bleeding captive from his doom! 
 To An's troubled spirit send 
 
 Some soothing balsam: — cheer the gloom 
 That gathers round his sinking soul, 
 
 For here to live, alone to die. 
 Unheeded and forgot by all. 
 
 Unheard by ear, unseen by eye. 
 Oh, Allah ! this is misery ! 
 
 O, wearily, wearily passed the time 
 
 From night to morn, from morn to night, 
 As he listen'd to the passing camel's chime, 
 
 Or watch'd the dull grey shade of light 
 That thro' his grated windows stole, 
 As comfort to the captive's soul. 
 Strange, O ! strange is captivity ! 
 As it breaks on the heart that so late was free, 
 Like the mildew's blight to the budding ilower, 
 
 Or shade of sorrow on childhood's brow. 
 Blasting and blighting with fatal power, 
 
 The heart's young hope and the cheek's fresh glow. 
 O ! wearily, wearily pass'd the day, 
 
 As Ali sat by the icy dead. 
 And witness'd its lone yet sure decay. 
 
 As the lines of life from his forehead fled ; 
 And dark the dream that would mar his rest, 
 
 While he slumber'd within that dungeon's gloom: 
 Unlike those visions of gladness blest, 
 
 That brighten'd his path in his childhood's bloom. 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 139 
 
 Whilst spring, and summer, and autumn came 
 
 To him in mock'ry, and winter hoar 
 
 He only knew by the torrent's roar, 
 Or the colder dews that chill'd his frame. 
 O! wearily, wearily time roll'd on. 
 As, chain'd to the dungeon's cold black stone, 
 The pride of Iran was made to feel 
 The wrath of Hassan by fire and steel. 
 He sought not mercy, he knew 'twas vain — 
 Al-Hassan laugh'd to scorn his pain, 
 And like the tiger at break of day, 
 
 Gloating over the young gazelle. 
 Or serpent coiling around its prey. 
 
 So seem'd Al-Hassan in Zem's lone cell. 
 With breast bestain'd with the darkest crime 
 That ever crimson'd the page of time. 
 
 Away! away! long years have pass'd, 
 And Ali sleeps as if 'twere the last 
 Long sleep of death: Away! away! 
 His soul is struggling to leave its clay! 
 The dews of death on his brow are damp. 
 Where Azrael set his icy stamp, 
 And dim and glassy is now his eye, 
 Which once beam'd bright as the star-lit sky; 
 The captive's hand on his breast is laid, 
 
 Pulseless and cold as the dungeon's stone 
 On which is resting his senseless head, 
 
 As if the soul from its seat had flown.- 
 His sword may hang in its gem-wrought sheath, 
 
 And useless his gold-embossed shield, 
 And his spear, that once swept the ranks of death, 
 
 Like a meteor dire, on Moorchacoor's field. 
 
140 cri.zAR, on Tiir. rose-bower. 
 
 Will useless stand in his father's hall, 
 
 Whilst the name of Au, like an early dream, 
 Away will pass down oblivion's stream. 
 
 Forgot by one and forgot by all ! 
 
N OTES TO CANTO YI. 
 
 (1) " What is this world on which I tread 1 " 
 
 According to the system of cosmogony in the Zendavesta, the 
 duration of the present universe is fixed at twelve thousand years, 
 which is subdivided into four terms ; and to each of these is apppro- 
 priated a peculiar series of events. During tiie first period, Ormuzd, 
 alarmed by the appearance of Ahriman, tlie spirit of evil, "at an 
 immeasurable distance beneath him, covered with filth and putridity, 
 employed himself in creating the universe and the celestial inhabit- 
 ants. Of these beings the first were the Fehrohers, or the spiritual 
 prototypes, the embodied angels, of every reasonable being destined 
 to appear on earth. Ahriman, alarmed at these new instances of 
 power, flew, with malign intent, towards the light; but a single 
 enunciation of the Honover sent him back to darkness, where he 
 immediately called into being a number of devils and evil spirits, 
 designed to opppose the works of Ormuzd. Ormuzd then, to pro- 
 tect his young creation, produced or called into existence six Angels 
 or Amsliaspunds of superior power and virtue. These were called 
 Ardibehesht, guardian of the genius of fire and light ; Shahriwar, 
 spirit of the metal and the mine; Espendermad, tiie female guardian 
 of the earth; Kourdad, who diffuses the blessings of running 
 streams; Amerdad, who watches over the growth of plants and 
 trees; and Bahman, to whom was intrusted the animal creation. 
 Ahriman, to counteract their influence, called up from the abyss of 
 darkness, six Deeves, between whom a contest was waged for the 
 space of three thousand years ; at the termination of which Ormuzd 
 called into being the heavens, and their celestial systems — the 
 earth, with its complicated productions. Serooch, guardian of the 
 earth, and Behram, armed with a mighty club and arrows, were 
 
142 Gl-LZAK, Oil TlIK ROSE-HOWF.R. 
 
 formed to repel tlic attacks of 7\.hriman. I'.Iythra, the mediator, and 
 Rash-in-Ra'st, the genius of justice, witli numerous other spirits, 
 were callid forth to assist in repelling the powers of darkness, 
 and angels were appointed to protect every being. The stars and 
 planets, the months of the year, the days, and even watches of the 
 day, had each their attendant spirit — all nature teems with them — 
 all space is pervaded with tiieni. 
 
 A period of peace and tranquility then ensued, or the first golden 
 age of the world: the year was one uninterru[)tcd day of happiness, 
 *he skies were calm and beautiful, and nature wore her brightest 
 and fairest robes; no change of seasons perplexed the world, but 
 one unbroken spring with leaves and flowers perfumed the earth. 
 The Fchroher being dcliglited with tlic harmony which reigned on 
 the earth, Ormuzd proposed that he should descend, and help to 
 eradicate all evil, promising that the souls of human beings should 
 finally return to their divine mansions. The Fheroher obeyed, and 
 was embodied with the form of the Sacred Bull — Aboudad, the man 
 bull, the Excellent, the Pure, the Principle of all Good. Ahriman, 
 in the doptiis of hell, trembled at this intelligence. Stimulated by 
 his Deeves, and particularly by the evil genius, Djeme, he mustered 
 his spirits, and, ascending in the form of a monstrous serpent, 
 covered the earth with noxious animals. In the shape of a huge 
 fly, ho polluted every thing, and insinuated his poison into all 
 nature; by means of a burning draught, he parciied the face of the 
 whole earth, and caused his Deeves to strike the Sacred Bull with a 
 fatal wound. But the benevolent design of Ormuzd was not to be 
 defeated. From the right limb of the dying beast issued Kayomurz, 
 the first man, and from the rest of its members sprang a number of 
 the vegetable productions which were to render the earth fruitful. 
 Its seed was carried to the moon, and, purified by Ormuzd, produced 
 a bull and cow, from whence all animals took their origin. Kayo- 
 murz was of lofty aspect, pure, and of dazzling substance: his body 
 was composed of tiic four elements, fire, water, air, and earth. 
 Ormuzd to this perishable frame added an immortal spirit, and the 
 being was complete. 
 
 The soul of man is composed of five separate parts: First, the 
 Fheroher, or principle of sensation ; the Boo, or principle of intelli- 
 gence: the Piouh, the principle of judgment, imngination, volition; 
 
GULZAR, Oil THE ROSE-BOWER. 143 
 
 the Akho, or principle of conscience ; the Jan, or principle of 
 animal life. When the first four of these cannot subsist in the 
 body without the last, they abandon their earthly abode, the Jan 
 mingles with the winds, and the Akho returns to the heavens with 
 the celestial Rouhs, or spirits, to abide the day of judgment. If 
 good predominates, they remain in heaven, and are admitted into 
 the state of the happy, but if evil they are sent to hell. 
 
 Such is the soul of man, according to the Zendavesta, and such 
 was Kayomurz, created to be immortal, and sprinkled with the 
 waters of Khei, which rendered him beautiful as a youth of fifteen. 
 But neither his comeliness, nor the power of Ormuzd could avert 
 the malice of Ahriman, who, after a severe conflict of ninety days, 
 succeeded in destroying him. On his death, the principle of 
 regeneration was confided to Ardibchesht, the genius of fire, 
 which being, purified by the action of the sun, after a space of 
 forty years produced a tree or plant representing two human bodies. 
 These were Maschia and Maschiana, the parents of the human 
 race: names wliich signify death. Yet, although they were created 
 pure, and capable of serving their Creator, and of enjoying perfect 
 felicity, they are tempted to rebel and worship Ahriman instead of 
 Ormuzd. They then became damned, and their souls polluted ; the 
 earth was overrun with Kharfesters, or evil spirits, who inhabited 
 the caverns and recesses. A flood was sent which destroyed them ; 
 but from their foul remains arose noisome animals, reptiles, and 
 putridity. The unhappy pair plunged deeper into sin ; and, listen- 
 ing to the temptations of Ahriman, they drank of the milk of the 
 evil goat, and eat forbidden fruit, thereby forfeiting the few re- 
 maining privileges. In these struggles elapsed the third era of tlie 
 duration of the universe. 
 
 During tiie fourth period Ahriman is to prevail : misery and 
 desolation shall brood over the earth ; and three Prophets shall 
 appear, under the last of whom, named Sosioch, a rain of black 
 water shall precede the renewal of nature, the resurrection of man- 
 kind, and the final judgment. But annihilation even for a time 
 forms no part of tlie doctrine of Zoroaster. At death the materials 
 of the body regain their respective elements: earth to earth, fire 
 to fire, air to air, and water to water: the last hours of the Parsee 
 is stripped of its terrors. For three days after the dissolution of 
 the body, the soul flits around it; on the fourth the Angel Siroch 
 
144 GILZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 appears, and conducts it to the bridge of Chinevad, where sits the 
 Anjrel of Justice, to weigh the actions of men; and according to 
 his decisions the heavenly dog who guards the sacred gate, permits 
 it to enter and join its ancestors in heaven, or precipitates it down 
 to the gulf of hell, which yawns below, where Ahriraan taunts it 
 for its folly and crimes. 
 
 The resurrection is the true trumpet of Ormuzd and his worship- 
 pers. In that day Kayomurz will first arise ; then Maschia, and his 
 Maschiana. The judgment will occupy fifty -seven years, during 
 which period the Genii of the Elements must render up their trust. 
 The soul will know its earthly companion, and re-enter it. The 
 juice of the herb Horn and the milk of Hesiosk will restore life to 
 man, who then becomes immortal. 
 
 Then follows tlie separation of the good and the evil. Tliey who 
 have not, in the intermediate state, expiated their sins, are again 
 sent to hell, but not for eternal punishment. The tortures of three 
 awful days and nights, equal to an agony of three thousand years, 
 suffice for the purification of the most wicked. The voice of pain 
 ascending up from ths gulf of hell, melts to pity the heart of 
 Ormuzd, and the damned find mercy. An Angel is sent to draw 
 them from that awful pit of misery, they are washed in the waters 
 of life, and admitted into Paradise, after being tiioroughly purified 
 with the burning liquid of an expiring world. This is the last of 
 their miseries: hell itself, and all its demons shall be cleansed; 
 Ahriman, no longer irreclaimable, shall be converted to goodness, 
 and become a minister of the Most High. — Frazier's Persia. 
 
 (2) "Great Allah, lot me still recline 
 
 Upon that sword and .sliicld of Thine." 
 
 In one of the early battles of tlio Prophet, when his troops were 
 almost broken, and himself bleeding from many wounds, a horse- 
 man entered the battle on a milk-white steed, his shield and armor 
 shone with the most dazzling lustre, around his sword's point the 
 wing of the lightning was seen to play, his path was deatli, a panic 
 Htiized the enemy, they threw down tlicir arms, and (led. When the 
 battle was over, Mohamniet re(iucslod the young chief to be brought 
 before him, but he could not be found. i\Iany believed that it was 
 the Angel Gabriel. — Life of Mohammed. 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 145 
 
 (3) "But who is Hamet," &c. 
 
 We have founded our tale on the early life and sufferings of the 
 celebrated Nadir Shah, and his gallant successor, the noble Kureem 
 Khan. At the age of eighty years Kureem died, leaving a name 
 second to none in the annals of Persia for equity and humanity : 
 wanting not ambition, yet free from the selfishness and turbulence 
 of passion. He rose to be King, having subdued or conquered all 
 his opponents. 
 
 He possessed that noble courage which dares to pardon, and the 
 confidence with which he treated those whom he forgave, scarcely 
 ever was misplaced. Pious, yet free from austerity, he loved the 
 pleasures of this world, and was pleased to see others enjoy them. 
 His judgment was acute, and hi^ love of justice proverbial; learn- 
 ing he highly valued, and his court was the resort of the wise and 
 good. Shiraz was the capital in which he most delighted, and 
 which he embellished and adorned with many works of art : the 
 Mausoleum of Shah Meer Humza is'one of them. 
 
 (4) "As glides the spectre from the tomb, 
 
 With noiseless step and form of air." 
 
 Nadir Kouli, a chief of the Affshar tribe, who amid the troubles 
 of his native land, had risen to great importance and authority by 
 the defeat of one rival after another, joined Tamasp, the son of 
 Shah Hussien, and declared his resolution to drive every Afl^ghan 
 from the soil of Persia. The victories of Mehmandost Sirderra, 
 and the still more fatal field of Moorchacor, opened the way to the 
 capital itself. In the evening the wailing of the Afl^ghan females 
 announced to the inhabitants of Ispahan the result of the conflict. 
 Night passed in brief but melancholy preparations, and the dawn 
 saw men, women, and children in full retreat to Shiraz. A few 
 years afterwards saw Nadir undisputed master of the realms of 
 Persia, when, on the field of Mogan, at the feast of No Rooz, he 
 assumed the ensigns of royalty. He afterwards drove the Turks 
 out of Persia, reduced Khorassan, Candahar was invaded and taken, 
 Balk fell before the arms of his son Reza Kouli, who with youthful 
 ardor passed the 0.\us and defeated the ruler of Bokhara and his 
 Usbecks. Affghanistan was subdued, and an affront, real or 
 
 19 
 
1 16 GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 imaginary, given by the ilogul, determined Nndir to cross the 
 Indus and march to Delhi. A single battle decided the fate of tliat 
 Empire, and the treasures of the capital became the spoil of the 
 conqueror. Karizni was also subdued, and the timely obeisance of 
 Bokhara saved it from destruction : the glorious days of Persia 
 seemed to have returned and the Oxus, the Indus, the Caspian, the 
 Caucasus, and the Tigris were her limits as of yore. 
 
 But age threw its mantle of ills around the latter years of the 
 glorious reign of Nadir, and his domestic life was embittered by the 
 defalcation of his son, who, at Mazunderan, attempted the life of 
 the Shah, for which he suffered death. 
 
 In the retirement of his harem, remorse preyed upon the mind of 
 the King : gloom and disquietude usurped the seat of joy and 
 happiness, until madness for a season seized the reins of his mind ; 
 his friends forsook him : feared and hated by his officers, a con- 
 spiracy was formed against his life, and one morning he was slain 
 by Saleh Beg, captain of the guard, aided by Mohammed Khan, 
 and others, but he fell not until several of the conspirators died 
 beneath his sword. Such was the fate of this extraordinary man. — 
 Frazier's History of Persia. 
 
 (5) "There is a cell in Zem's dark tower, 
 
 In which the sun-beam never played." 
 
 As examples of the mode of punishment sometimes practised in 
 Persia by the Shah against a Noble that may fall under his displea- 
 sure, or of whom he may be afraid, we give the following: 
 
 "The darkest stains on this Monarch's character are the murder 
 of his uncle Zaduk and his ungrateful conduct to his old and zealous 
 minister, Hajji Ibraham. The assassination of his relative might 
 be defended under the plea of State policy and stern necessity, but 
 that could not palliate tlie treachery and cruelty wiiicli accompanied 
 the act." 
 
 "Zaduk Khan, unable any longer to contend against his nephew 
 Futeh AH Shah, surrendered on the most sacred promise that he 
 should not be put to death. The King confined him in a room, built 
 up tlie doors and windows, and left him to die by inches, conceiving 
 this to be no violation of his oath. When the apartment was opened 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 147 
 
 it was discovered that the miserable captive had dug deep into the 
 floor with his hands, and swallowed the clay to assuage the pangs 
 of hunger." 
 
 "Hajji Ibraham: Under accusations fabricated by his enemies, 
 this aged and faithful Minister was condemned to lose his eyes ; and 
 while suffering under the cruel operation, some expressions escaped 
 him reflecting on the injustice and ingratitude of Kings, which 
 being carried to the Shah, the old Hajji was ordered to have his 
 tongue cut out. He died under the torment. His family were 
 proscribed, and his property confiscated — Persian History. 
 
GULZAK, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 149 
 
 A tear was seen to glisten in the eyes of the Dervise 
 as the last echo of his harp died away in the distance, 
 and the cheek of the Princess grew pale as she mused 
 over the fate of the gallant Ali, confined in the lone 
 dungeons of Zem. She thought of her own Abbas 
 MiRZA, of his long absence, perhaps caused by a di'eary 
 imprisonment, the result of her Father's anger, and her 
 eye sought that of the Monarch's, who was gazing on 
 his child. Often did the mind of Aga revert to the 
 barbarous death of the mighty Nadir, and sometimes 
 a thought would intrude itself upon him, that such a 
 fate might be his own; for he, like that warlike Mon- 
 arch, was in his old age, left almost childless and lonely, 
 for all save his lovely daughter Gulzar had died, and 
 her hand was too feeble to wield the sceptre of Iran : 
 his crown would fall a prey to the most warlike and 
 fortunate of his nobles, and his child might one day be 
 immured in the Harem of his foe. Her cousin, Hussien 
 KiiULi, she loved not, and the late disgrace of the Chief 
 of Kermau in the tented field, by the Kurdish chieftain, 
 had in a great measure weaned the affections of Aga 
 from giving him his child. 
 
 The form of the gallant Abbas Mirza in fancy now 
 stood before him, and a shade of sorrow passed over the 
 brow of the Shah. It was when he thought of Mirza, 
 that the eye of Gulzar met that of her father; and as 
 if imbued with' one feeling, she fell on his neck, and Aga 
 kissed his daughter and wept. The audience sympa- 
 thized in their sorrow, all except the Prince of Kerman, 
 who turned aside and smiled. 
 
150 GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 Again the harp of Humza is heard breathing its 
 thrilling numbers and every heart beats anxiously for 
 the result of the coming strife. 
 
CANTO VII. 
 
 'Tis midnight! O'er the dewy plain 
 
 Sleep hath o'erspread her leaden wing, 
 The laugh of joy, the shriek of pain 
 
 Are hush'd to peace ; and Iran's King, 
 The care-worn Hamet, calmly sleeps, 
 Whilst by his side night's vigil keeps 
 The youthful Hafiz. All is rest: 
 The sea-bird floats on ocean's breast. 
 The red-deer safe in covert lies, (^) 
 Unmindful of the jackall's cries. 
 And browsing 'midst the tender trees 
 The camels scent the coming breeze 
 That gently ruffles Oman's sea, 
 Freighted with gums from Araby. 
 A dream is over Iran's chief, 
 But not a dream of care or grief: 
 The dungeon's gloom is past and gone. 
 
 The star of love now o'er him beams. 
 His couch and pillow softest down, 
 
 Of Ormuz isle he fondly dreams. 
 He dreams of Ameeu's peerless daughter. 
 Bright as a pearl in Oman's water, 
 
152 GL'LZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 The young Mossella, she vvho&e smile 
 Had cheered him in his hours of pain, 
 
 As friendless, when to Ormuz isle 
 He fled from Hassan's lawless reign. 
 
 There is a bower in Ormuzstand, 
 
 And he is dreaming of that bower, 
 Its roof was weaved by fairy hand. 
 
 With roses and the orange flower. 
 And oft when Luna's silvery beam 
 
 Would lamp the concave of the sky, 
 Mossella there would come to dream 
 
 Of love that ne'er, O ne'er can die. 
 Soft was the night — the young moon mild, 
 
 Witii evening's love-born star so bright. 
 Like mother and her peerless child. 
 
 In beauty climbed the realms of light. 
 Soft was the night, and sweet the hour 
 
 When Ameer's lovely daughter came 
 To meet young Hamet in that bower, 
 
 And breathe love's wild and burning flame. 
 And they have met, and ne'er again 
 
 Will two hearts meet more void of guile. 
 O! why should joy be mix'd with pain? 
 
 Why should the eye not always smile? 
 For Hamet loved her with a love 
 
 So pure and chaste that few dare know, 
 Save Peris in the realms above. 
 
 Whose breasts with heavenly ardor glow; 
 And she had thrown her heart, her soiil 
 
 Away in love at Hamet's feet — 
 In life, in death, he was the goal 
 
 Where all her hopes and joys would meet. 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 153 
 
 Her father, Ormuz's haughty lord, 
 Had sworn upon his father's sword 
 Eternal love to Persia's King, 
 
 (Dark Hassan, Hamet's mortal foe, 
 Whose hate was deadly as the sting 
 
 Of reptile from the shades below,) 
 But knew not Hamet, save as one 
 
 Who sought his standard for renown. 
 Knew not his daughter's heart was gone, 
 
 Knew not on whom her love was thrown, 
 And well he knew not, for O never 
 
 Would Ha3iet meet his Mossella: 
 An arrow from her father's quiver 
 
 Had laid him low in silent clay. 
 But they are met in Ormuz bower. 
 At evening's soft and witching hour, 
 And she is dreaming on his breast, 
 The sweet, the lov'd, the young, the blest. 
 Dreaming of years of happiness, 
 Of joys that ne'er may come to pass. 
 
 Who has not dream'd the dream of youth. 
 When life seem'd all array'd in truth, 
 The stars that gem'd the azure sky, 
 
 The crimson clouds of rosy even, 
 Seem'd spirits of the world on high. 
 
 Clothed in the glorious robes of heaven, 
 When hope across our path would fling 
 Deceptive flowers of opening spring. 
 Leading us on from flower to flow'r. 
 
 From morn to night, from night to morn. 
 Until we found that every flow'r 
 
 Beneath its leaf concealed a thorn? 
 20 
 
154 GULZ VR, OK THE KOSE-BOWER. 
 
 "Thou lov'st me, dearest," Hamet said, 
 
 " Yet poor 's the gift — a widow'd heart — 
 "For I must leave my Ormuz maid. 
 
 " Nay, do not weep, tho' we must part : 
 "My bleeding country claims my sword, 
 
 "Else never would I leave this isle. 
 "Thy father, Hassan, Persia's lord, 
 
 "Has won with words of fraud and guile: 
 " Yes, he is now dark Hassan's I'riend, 
 
 "And I no more his cup may drink, 
 "Yet ne'er to thee I'll feel unkind, 
 
 " Or one harsh thought shall ever think. 
 " Come near me, dearest, let me kiss 
 
 "The tear that dims thine eye of light; 
 "Ours have been days of happiness, 
 
 "Altho' they may seem sad to-night. 
 "A few short moons, and we will meet 
 
 "Again in time no more to part: 
 " 'Till then let Allah bode me speed, 
 
 "'Till then let Allah soothe tiiy heart." 
 
 "O, Hamet, Hamet! do not leave me! 
 
 " Where'er thou goest there will I go, 
 "The world would be one blank without thee, 
 
 "To me a world of care and woe. 
 "My father — nay, O! do not blame, 
 
 " He owns thy valor, claims thy sword ; 
 "Stay, Hamet! stay! thou mayest reclaim 
 
 " Him from the wiles of Persia's lord. 
 "Thou saidst thou loved'st thy Ormuz maid: 
 
 "I am my father's only child, 
 " His friend, his fame, demands thy aid, 
 
 "And I thy sword and stainless shield. 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 155 
 
 "Entreat not! do not ask me — no! 
 
 "I will not leave in life thy side: 
 "In joy or grief, in weal or woe, 
 
 "I'll be thy own, thy loving bride! 
 "In life, in death, my throbbing heart 
 
 "Shall beat in truth and love to thine, 
 " Thy home my home, we ne'er shall part, 
 
 "Thy country and thy God are mine. 
 "Thou frownest! — Gracious Allah save 
 " My father from a bloody grave ! 
 " O Hamet, Hamet, in thine eye 
 
 " I see a fire that speaks of death ! 
 "'Tis like the star that flames on high, 
 
 "When thousands strew the gory heath. 
 "Say who thou art, from whence you came, 
 "Thy birth, thy lineage, or thy name; 
 " I know by these proud looks of scorn 
 " Not always, Hamet, hast thou borne 
 " Thy present bearing, but to me 
 " Be always Hamet, for to thee 
 "My beating heart in fondness turns, 
 "E'en when thine eye with anger burns, 
 "Still, Hamet, still to thee I cling 
 " Like bird beneath its mother's wing, 
 " Through life and death with thee I'll stray, 
 "And be thy own lov'd Mossella." 
 
 "Fear not, my dearest," Hamet said, 
 
 " I am thy own lov'd Hamet still : 
 " But cease to ask for Hassan aid, 
 
 " My hand has sworn to work him ill. 
 «'Thy father, him my sword shall spare, 
 
 "My shield shall guard his aged head, 
 
156 GILZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 "Afar or near shall be my l)rayer, 
 
 " To save from harm my Ormuz maid. 
 "My name? Go ask Moorchacor's plain, 
 
 " Bokhara's wilds, or Kerman's sands, 
 "Go ask Sirderra's lifeless slain, 
 
 " Or Delhi's waste and conquer'd lands. 
 "There stands my fame: but now I wear 
 
 "A widowed heart, surcharged with care. 
 "She whom I lov'd sleeps death's lone sleep, 
 
 " Where Hamet dares not mourn or weep ; 
 "But here I swear by Antar's brand, 
 "And by my own undaunted hand, 
 "That silvery moon shall never wane 
 " Until upon the gory plain 
 " I Hassan meet, ne'er, ne'er to part, 
 " Until his sword shall pierce my heart, 
 " Or mine shall lay the tyrant low, 
 " Pluckina from off his blood-stained brow 
 "The Persian crown. My country free, 
 "Then, dearest, I'll return to thee, 
 "To live in love in Ormuz isle, 
 "And bask in sweet Mossella's smile." 
 
 But hark! — it is the morning hour. 
 
 And IIamet's dreams dissolve in air, 
 Whilst Mollahs from El-Bunder's tower 
 
 Proclaim aloud the hour of prayer. 
 Allah-il-Ali.aii ! — God is God ! 
 
 His sun is in the orient sky. 
 And, bursting thro' night's sable cloud. 
 
 His car of glory mounts on high ! 
 The sun is up, the glorious sun, 
 Casting aside night's shadows dun, 
 And Hamet from his rosv dreams 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 157 
 
 Wakes into life 'neath morning's beams, 
 
 But e'er he woke one fond embrace 
 He dreamed he took of Mossella, 
 
 That time nor tide shall e'er efface 
 From his fond heart. 
 
 Away! away! 
 The sun is up! El-Bunder's tower 
 
 And Hamet's camp with armor gleam ! 
 Away! away! — it is the hour 
 
 When nature wakes 'neath morning's beam. 
 But where is Hafiz, he whose eyes 
 
 Should be like watch-fires of the night, 
 Guarding his lord from quick surprise, 
 
 From traitor's steel, or foeman's might? 
 But he, unused night's watch to keep. 
 The weary page was fast asleep. 
 And he, like Hamet, too was dreaming 
 Of fond eyes that were o'er him beaming, 
 And words of love so kindly spoken, 
 And hearts that well-nigh had been broken. 
 And scenes of joy that ne'er again 
 
 Would to his longing heart return. 
 And flickering hopes, that but remain 
 
 Like lamps that light death's lonely urn. 
 The dews of night had fallen fast. 
 And damp'd his hair and chilled his breast, 
 Cold, cold he lay on Oman's sand, 
 A stranger in a distant land: 
 The soldier's tent, the soldier's fare, 
 His sports and joys he would not share, 
 But shunned the gaze of vulgar eye. 
 
 And Hamet's tent would lonely keep. 
 
158 GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-DOWER. 
 
 And seldom smiled save he was nigh, 
 
 Where Hamet slept there w^ould he sleep. 
 
 His scarf, which had been loosely thrown 
 
 Around his waist, aside has blown. 
 
 His hair which neath his turboosh stray'd, 
 
 With morning's breeze in gladness play'd. 
 
 Disclosing unto Hamet's sight 
 
 A scene of love so exquisite, 
 
 In vain you bid the cygnet's breast 
 
 Compare with that which slumbers there. 
 In vain you match Damascus vest 
 
 With IIafiz's soft and silken hair; 
 A brow white as Dunwamund's snow, 
 
 And lips red as the ruby wine, 
 And cheeks where roses lov'd to blow. 
 
 And eyes that did the stars outshine. 
 And as El- Hamet fondly smiled, 
 
 As if on one of Peri born. 
 Confused awoke Ei,-Ameer's child. 
 
 As blushing as the dawn of morn. 
 
 It was the Flower of Ormuzstand, 
 
 The Houri of that ocean-land, 
 
 The young Mossella, — she whose love 
 
 Had oft in Ormuz balmy grove 
 
 Beguiled the hours of Iran's chief. 
 
 When his lone heart, surcharged with grief, 
 
 Had well-nigh broken, and life's cord 
 
 Hung trembling, like Damocles' sword, 
 
 It was his own lov'd Mossella 
 
 Who, as his page, before him lay. 
 
 And she has wept on Uamet's breast, 
 
 And all her love and fear confess'd: 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 159 
 
 Told how her father wished to wed 
 
 His only child to Hamet's foe, 
 Told how from Ormuz isle she fled, 
 
 Braving the world and all its woe. 
 And he has press'd her to his heart, 
 From which again she ne'er will part. 
 And fondly wiped the pearly tear 
 
 That trembled in her dreamy eye, 
 And toss'd in air his burnish'd spear, 
 
 As if resolv'd to dare or die. 
 
 El-Bunder's w^alls are grey with years, ^^^ 
 
 Her battlements their shadows fling 
 O'er Oman's wave : ten thousand spears 
 
 Are gleaming from her western wing, 
 And 'midst that wild and daring host 
 
 Al-Hassan's plume is proudly seen. 
 Like ocean's wave, when thunder-toss'd, 
 
 Shimmering in the lightning's sheen. 
 Mogan's red field proclaim'd his fame, 
 
 Bokhara's maids turn pale with fear, 
 Kharzim trembles at his name. 
 
 And Affghanistan shuns his spear. 
 Then think not, when the Persian throne 
 
 Hangs trembling on the verge of fate, 
 When all upon the die is thrown — 
 
 Fame, fortune, joy, grief, love, and hate. 
 That Hassan's plume shall idly wave 
 
 Afar from Bunder's fatal field. 
 Ah, no! — that plain may be his grave, 
 
 But Hassan's soul shall never yield. 
 Now throng the squadrons to the plain, 
 With music's wild and thrilling strain, 
 
160 GL'LZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 Here Nazir guides his Piirthian horse, 
 There Haifa heads his conquering force, 
 Abdallah, Omru close the rear, 
 With Kerman's sword; Belooche's spear, 
 Bokhara's Usbeck's, Candahar, 
 
 Are there to aid the Persian king, 
 Who guides with fearless hand the war. 
 
 Whose sword gleams like the lightning's wing. 
 Now, Hassan, guard thy haughty plume, 
 And wear thy darkest, deadliest gloom ; 
 Thou hast to meet the bravest heart 
 
 That ever met thy spear or sword ! 
 Nerve well the hand that throws the dart 
 
 Against the breast of Iran's lord, 
 For never was his fatal spear 
 
 Rais'd twice against a foeman's breast. 
 The eye that meets him quails with fear, 
 
 The heart that braves him, sinks to rest. 
 
 Loud booms along dark Oman's sea 
 The sound of war's artillery, 
 And groans are heard, and shrieks of pain 
 To rise from Bunder's gory plain : 
 There Hussien Khan and young Zohair 
 
 Have charged in line the Parthian band; 
 No quarter claim, nor age they spare, — 
 
 'Tis death to yield, 'tis death to stand. 
 On ! on they charge ! Belooche's chief 
 
 Has pierced the mail of Azim's lord, 
 Abdullah falls, and no relief 
 
 Can Arak save from Hamet's sword. 
 On sweep the sons of burning Ind, 
 And Kerman's horse are left behind; 
 
GULZAH, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. l6l 
 
 In vain Bokhara's horsemen charge 
 Against the Tartar's spear and targe, 
 Like rocks in ocean's stormy sea, 
 Unmov'd they stand, and scorn to flee; 
 Belooche's spear and Affghan's shield 
 Lie broken on the gory field : 
 But where, O where is young Zohair, 
 
 He who first joined the ranks of war? 
 Hold, Hassan, hold ! thy victim spare ! 
 
 A cry of grief was heard afar : 
 'Twas Hamet's — swift as lightning's wing 
 He stood before the Persian King, 
 The blood-stain'd Hassan, and his shield 
 
 He o'er the Prince of Vellore spread: 
 " Mine be the danger of this field ! 
 
 " My hand shall bow the guilty head ! " 
 Back roll'd the tide of grisly war 
 
 As man to man these chieftains stood. 
 With tempered brands that nought could bar, 
 
 Each one prepared to strike for blood. 
 
 *' Come on, foul fiend ! " El-Hamet said, 
 
 "Thy victims cry aloud to Heaven, 
 "Justice demands thy guilty head, 
 
 "And vengeance to my hand is given ! 
 "Come on! — the blood of Napir cries 
 "From 'Yesha's grave and rends the skies, — 
 "Zohair's young bride, fair Cumlade, 
 "Hast prayed for deep revenge on thee — 
 " Khorassan's steeps and Kerman's sands 
 "Are groaning 'neath thy murderous hands. 
 "Come on! — and let thy nameless grave 
 "Be made in ocean's plumbless wave, 
 
162 CULZAU, OK THE U(»SE-BOWER. 
 
 "So that thy dark and blood-stain'd name 
 "Be swept from ofi' thy country's fame, 
 "No tear be wept, no sigh be mourned, 
 "Where traitors lie, unshrined, unurn'd!" 
 
 "Thou mouth'st it well — but, IIamet, know 
 "Thy hand shall never deal the blow! 
 " I bear a charm'd and deathless heart, 
 "Safe from El-Hamet's spear or dart. 
 " I've wrought thee woe, and oh ! the bliss 
 
 "That it has given to wound thy pride, 
 "To blast thy hopes of happiness 
 
 " With one who would have been thy bride ! 
 "I hate thee, Hamet! — God of Heaven 
 "How deeply on this heart 's engraven 
 " My deadly hate ! Oil will give 
 "Ten thousand crowns, for aye to live, 
 "And pain thy soul as it was pain'd 
 "In Zem's lone dungeon, bound and chain'd! 
 "Curse, curse the slave who thought thee dead, 
 "Dishonor blast his hoary head ! 
 "To cast thee on the foaming wave, 
 " He might have known 'twas not thy grave. 
 "What! IIamet Ali die the death 
 
 "That felons die? — a nobler hand 
 "Shall lay him low on Bunder's heath: 
 
 "Come on! and meet my ruthless brand!" 
 
 And they have fought from noon's hot hour 
 
 Until the evening's .sun had set, 
 And night's dark clouds began to lower, 
 
 Ensliuding tower and minaret, 
 Yet were not weary : hate had lent 
 
 A strength that seem'd of deathless mi^ht, 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 163 
 
 If not, ere then, each stroke had sent 
 
 One soul to realms of cloud-wrapt night. 
 " Hold, Hamet, hold ! " Al-Hassan cried, 
 
 "Yield me thy sword, 'tis vain to stand, 
 "No steel shall ever pierce my side^^^ 
 
 "Unless Great Antar's charmed brand, 
 "And it is safe in darksome cave, 
 " Secure as tenant of the grave. 
 "The star that shone across my birth 
 
 "Told Hassan's form should never lie 
 "Within the dull, cold, clammy earth, 
 
 "That Hassa.v's soul should never die. 
 "Then yield thee, Hamet, yield thy sword, 
 " Or meet thy death from Persia's lord." 
 
 There is a star on Hassan's breast, 
 
 But it is dim with virgin blood, 
 There is a stain on Hassan's crest, 
 
 'T would incarnadine the Zenderood, 
 There is deep guile in Hassan's heart, 
 
 Beneath his tongue 's an adder's sting, 
 His hand now wields the fatal dart 
 
 Which drank the blood of Persia's king. 
 But Hamet fears not Hassan's steel, 
 
 And laughs to scorn his words of guile: 
 " No more my breast again can feel 
 
 "Or fear a tyrant's frown or smile. 
 " Yield to Al-Hassan ? Ha3iet yield ! 
 
 "No! — by Great Allah, God of Heaven! 
 "Thy blood shall wet El-Bunder's field! 
 
 "Thine hour is come: — to me was given 
 " The sword of Antar, and my hand 
 
 " Now wields his bright and tempered brand ! 
 
164 GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 "The charm is broken — ocean's wave 
 " Shall be thy lone dishonored grave. 
 " Now guard thy blood-stain'd haughty crest, 
 "And shield thy perjured trait'rous breast, 
 " Shield the bright star that glitters there, 
 
 "And let thy keen edged falchion fly, 
 " Fatal as Samiel's deadly air, 
 
 "And swift as lightning of the sky; 
 " For he who owns a traitor's heart 
 " Should guard it with the greatest art, 
 " Not like the man whose cause is right, 
 
 "And who upon his God relies, 
 " Meets man to man in open fight, 
 
 "And for his country lives or dies." 
 This Hamet said, then fix'd his eye. 
 
 Cold piercing as a freezing star, 
 On Hassan's form, resolv'd to die 
 
 Or triumph in the single war. 
 
 Again the deadly strife began. 
 As foot to foot and man to man 
 Each chieftain rais'd aloft his steel 
 
 Against a heart unused to fear. 
 Yet did their flashing eyes reveal 
 
 The inward hate that rankled there. 
 First on Moorchacor's gory plain, 
 
 And first on Mogan's dreadful field 
 Waved IIamet's plume, without one stain 
 
 Flashed Hassan's fearless sword and shield — 
 Friends then — foes now! Alone they stand, 
 
 With swords blood-stain'd from point to hand, 
 And breasts inflamed with deadly hate. 
 That blood, and only blood, can sate : 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 165 
 
 The past, the present, all in one, 
 
 Like livid lightning's burning flash. 
 Within their bosoms concentrate. 
 
 And stings them with a scorpion-lash. 
 Then breathless stood on Bunder's field 
 Each warrior, resting on his shield : 
 Aghast they view the deadly strife 
 Of blood for blood, and life for life, 
 Till cheeks that never paled before, 
 Fear's sickly coward-shadow wore, 
 And eyes grew dim, afraid to look 
 
 As either chieftain rose or fell, 
 'Till Hamet's sword drank Hassan's blood, 
 
 And launched his guilty soul to hell. 
 
 " Curse thee, El-Hamet ! curs'd thy hand ! 
 " Curs'd be my own untempered brand ! 
 "Curs'd be the false and lying tongue 
 
 " That lured me to this fatal field, 
 " Whose words of guile my life hast flung 
 
 "Away on Antar's sword and shield ! 
 " ! could my arm but once again 
 " Meet thine upon this gory plain, 
 "How would I triumph in that hour 
 
 "When man to man, and spear to spear, 
 "Then would I crush thy rising pow'r 
 
 "And chill thy vaulting soul with fear! 
 "But no! I feel that Asrael 
 " Has stamped me with his fatal seal, 
 "And soon my hand must loose its grasp, 
 " Each well-strung nerve its hold unclasp, 
 "And my proud soul away must fly 
 
 "To realms where gloom and darkness reign. 
 
166 OrLZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 "But oh! the"pain it is to die 
 
 "Vanquished upon El-Bunder's plain! 
 "And by thy arm! O! could I live 
 " But one short hour, what would I give 
 "To meet thee, Hamet, and to blast 
 "Thy budding hopes! But no! — 'tis past! 
 "The sword of Antar, by thy hand, 
 "Has drunk my blood — my broken brand 
 "Lies on the field — but Hassan dies, 
 "Dies as he liv'd, the bold, the free, 
 "Unconquer'd as the wind that flies 
 "O'er Kerman's sand or Oman's sea!" 
 
 'Tis past! — and Bunder's fatal field 
 Hath broken Hassan's spear and shield: 
 'Tis past — and Hamet proudly stands 
 The Lord of Persia's fertile lands. 
 Like leaves that cloth'd the dark green wood, 
 
 Or sands on Oman's shore that lay. 
 At morning Hassan's warriors stood. 
 
 'Tis night — and where, O! where are they? 
 Gone, like the mist on mountain dun. 
 
 Gone, like the dew on Irak's plain, 
 That flies before the morning's sun, 
 
 Gone — never to return again. 
 And fallen is Hassan's trait'rous line. 
 
 His guilty soul has fled to hell. 
 His brow let fame no wreath entwine, 
 
 No stone mark where he fought and fell: 
 Give to the sea his hated form. 
 
 And let his tomb be ocean's cave. 
 His requiem be the thundering storm, 
 
 That foams and writhes o'er Oman's wave. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO VII. 
 
 (1) "The red-deer safe in covert lies, 
 Unmindful of the jackal's cries." 
 
 "The lion itself is found on the plains of Kuzistan, on the banks 
 of the Tigris, in many parts of Fars, in Bcloochistan, Mazundereen, 
 and in many ot! t parts of Persia. Tigers are rare. Leopards, 
 chittahs, lynxes, and bears are more numerous. Hyenas, wolves, 
 jackals, and foxes abound every where. 
 
 "Game is plentiful, and the red-deer are frequent. The gour- 
 khur, or wild ass, is found chiefly in the deserts of Khorassan and 
 the extensive valleys of Fars and Irak, and is the favorite game of 
 tlie Persian Kings. — Pottingek's Travels. 
 
 (2) " El-Bunder's walls are grey with years, 
 Her battlements their shadows fling 
 O'er Oman's wave." 
 
 El-Bunder, tlie ancient name of Harmosia, or Gomberoon, a castle 
 on the Persian Gulf, once of great strength and importance, now in 
 a state of decay, and chiefly occupied by a collection of miserable 
 huts, inhabited by from 3,000 to 4,000 Arabs. 
 
 (3) "No steel shall ever pierce my side. 
 
 Unless great Antar's charmed brand." 
 
 "No Persian of distinction will undertake the dangers of a 
 journey or the doubtful result of the battle-field, without consulting 
 a Professor of Astrology; and when a Mirza or a Mollah has once 
 established his reputation as an astrologer, he is in a sure way to 
 become rich. Should a lucky day arrive before a traveller is ready 
 
168 GLLZAK, OR THE UOSE-BOWER. 
 
 for his journey, he leaves his home, though he should remain for 
 weeks in some incommodious lodging, till his preparations are com- 
 pleted, satisfied that the favorable influence of the stars has been 
 secured by making the move at the proper time. 
 
 "At their birth, marriage, and death, the stars are always 
 anxiously observed, and many of their swords or cimetars have 
 verses of the Al-Koran engraved on them, as a charm against 
 Ahriman, or the Spirit of Evil. Such was the sword of Roostam 
 Antar, and others famous in Persian history ; and many of the 
 figures on the blades of their swords are wrought in gold or silver, 
 or in marquetry, with small gems. — Asiatic Miscellanies. 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 169 
 
 The Dervise laid aside his harp, having finished his 
 tale, and the Princess rejoiced in the triumph of Hamet 
 Ali over the guilty Al-Hassan. The gloom had passed 
 away from the brow of the King; but the eye of the 
 Prince of Kerman spoke death to Humza, and his hand 
 clenched his dagger, as if he dreamed of blood. All 
 but he were glad at the death of the guilty traitor, and 
 mourned the fate of the lovely Cumlade and the gallant 
 
 ZoHAIR. 
 
 Silence being restored in the palace, and the merry 
 feet of the dancing girls being no longer seen in the hall, 
 the Shah, seated on his royal throne, with all his Nobles 
 standing around him, commanded the Dervise to claim 
 the reward due to him for the recovery of the Princess, 
 and he extended to Humza the golden sceptre of mercy, 
 so that he might kiss it, and obtain favor in his sight. 
 
 Thrice did the Dervise bow himself lowly before the 
 throne of the mighty Monarch of Iran, until his silvery 
 beard swept the ground ; then taking from his bosom the 
 proclamation of the King, he humbly laid it at the foot 
 of the throne, and with his hands folded across his 
 breast, remained in silence. The Shah commanded one 
 of the great Officers of State to read the proclamation, 
 which having been done, he again commanded Humza 
 to name his reward — the hand of the Princess, or a 
 largess equal to her dowry. All eyes were turned on the 
 aged Dervise, who, with a beating heart and faltering 
 voice, demanded the hand of the Princess Gulzar in 
 marriage as his reward. 
 22 
 
170 GL'LZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 The countenance of the Shah, seldom pleasant, now 
 assumed a fearful expression of anger, and the courtiers 
 who stood around the throne trembled for the fate of 
 the Dervise, and their blood curdled almost to their 
 heart's core at the shrill, discordant voice of the Shah, 
 as he replied contemptuously to the demand of Humza. 
 The Princess drew nearer to her father, and her eyes 
 spoke the language which her lips refused — "I cannot 
 wed the Dervise;" and she sighed for her absent Mirza. 
 At length the Shah having somewhat assuaged his anger, 
 turned to IIumza, and thus addressed him: 
 
 "He who claims the hand of the Princess must be 
 wise in council and brave in battle: his sword must be 
 a shield to his friends, and death to his enemies. Thy 
 head, like mine, is grey with years, and may betoken 
 wisdom, but age has unnerved thy arm and chilled the 
 current of thy blood; withdraw thy foolish request, and 
 a Prince's ransom shall reward thy service." 
 
 And the Princess knelt before the Dervise, and im- 
 plored him not to demand her love: "Thou knowest, 
 father Humza," said she, " thou knowest the secrets of 
 my heart! 0! why didst thou rescue me from the cave 
 of Al-Barzak, if I am to live a life of wretchedness and 
 sorrow? Withdraw thy request, father Hcmza, and all 
 I possess is thine!" But the Dervise remained silent as 
 the marble pillars of Ashruff, and pointed to the bond 
 of the King, which was unalterable as the mountains 
 of Elburz. 
 
 Again the King spoke, and his voice was tremulous 
 with emotion; and he commanded the Doctors of the 
 Laws, of the Nasoot, the Tureekat, and the Aruf to 
 come before him, and propound questions to the pre- 
 sumptuous Dervise. So the Imams, the MoUahs, and 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 171 
 
 all the most learned men of the Kingdom came before 
 his throne. 
 
 And AziR, one of the Doctors of the Nasoot, pro- 
 pounded to HuMZA the following questions: "What is 
 stronger than iron, heavier than gold, and more precious 
 than the diamond? These if thou answerest, O Humza, 
 Aga will call thee wise." 
 
 And Humza bowed lowly to the ground, and replied: 
 "Love is stronger than iron: the dungeons of Zem have 
 been broken. Grief is heavier than gold : it has bowed 
 the head of Aga. The diamond is not so precious as the 
 heart of a friend." 
 
 AziR withdrew, and said Humza had answered wisely. 
 
 Then came forward Meerkiiond, one of the Doctors 
 of the Tureekat, and demanded " What was swifter 
 than the wing of the lightning, more deadly than the 
 simoom of the desert, and more terrible than the gulf of 
 Al-Sirit?" 
 
 To which the Dervise answered: "The breath of 
 Asrael is more deadly than the simoom of the desert, 
 and his winsr is swifter than that of the liwhtnino:. 
 Terrible is the gulf of Al-Sirit, but much more so is the 
 anger of Allah." 
 
 "Thou art wise, father Humza," said Meerkhond, 
 " thou hast drank of the fount of wisdom." 
 
 Then said Zaduck, Chief Doctor of the Aruf, he 
 whose soul had bathed in the delectable fountains, and 
 had eaten of the fruit of the tooba: "What is purer 
 than the snow of Bostani, chaster than the shades of 
 Eden, and sweeter than the lips of the Houris of 
 Paradise ? " 
 
 "0! Most Reverend and Holy Zaduck, with thy 
 
172 GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-HOWER. 
 
 words of sweetness hast thou enticed my heart, and 
 were it not that the snows of sixty winters have cooled 
 the ardor of my blood, quickly for answer would I say, 
 that sweeter than the lips of the Houris, and chaster 
 than the shades of Eden, is the lip of the Princess, and 
 her bosom is purer than the snow of Bostani." 
 
 The chief of the Doctors of Aruf retired in silence, 
 and the cheek of Gulzar crimsoned as she listened to 
 the answer of Humza, but the brow of Aga was wrapt 
 in gloom. 
 
 Then arose Shiek Alek, chief Imam of the Mosque 
 of Am, and stood before the throne. In his right hand 
 he held a golden censer, on which was written the 
 question propounded by him to the Dervise. It was 
 this: "What is the duty of a King?" 
 
 To which the Dervise replied, as he bent lowly before 
 the holy Alek: "Deep and weighty is the question pro- 
 pounded by thee, Most Holy Father, but the mantle of 
 the Prophet is upon me, I will answer it without fear^ 
 As the father of his people, he should temper justice 
 with mercy; as the Vicegerent of Allah, walk humbly 
 before iiim, so that his reign might be calm and serene, 
 like the sun of evening, when he sets in glory behind the 
 mountains of Zagros." 
 
 The Doctors of Iran withdrew in silence, leaving the 
 Dervise standing alone before the King, whilst the 
 officers of the court looked on in wonder and amaze- 
 ment, not knowing what would be the end. At last 
 Azubaii, Prince of Kerman, bowing lowly before the 
 throne, asked permission to address the Dervise; which 
 was granted. 
 
 " Forbear, old man," said Azubaii, " forbear to prose- 
 
GULZAB, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 173 
 
 cute thy foolish suit for the hand of Gulzar: youth loves 
 not to dwell with sadness, nor beauty to smile on the 
 withered form of age. Take the ofter of the Shah — the 
 ransom of a Prince — and let the young and the noble 
 contend for the hand of the Princess; for he who weds 
 the daughter of Aga, must be prepared to defend his 
 crown." 
 
 "Thou speakest bravely," said Humza:" "one wouldst 
 have thought that thy hand could have pointed a spear 
 in the day of battle, had he not seen thy prowess on the 
 tented field." 
 
 "Ha! — dost thou taunt me, old dotard?" replied 
 AzuBAH : " take this for thy insolence ! " and unsheathing 
 his dagger, and burning with anger and revenge, he 
 plunged it in the bosom of the Dervise. 
 
 But the steel glanced harmlessly aside from the breast 
 of HuaizA: his arm parried off the blow, and wresting 
 the dagger out of the hand of the assassin, he hurled 
 him against one of the marble pillars of the hall with 
 such force that the blood flew fast from his mouth and 
 nostrils; then throwing aside his Dervise cloak and cap, 
 he displayed to the astonished audience the noble form 
 of the long-lost Abbas Mirza — the gallant Kurd, the 
 conqueror of the tented plain. 
 
 Like the young gazelle leaping from the mountain 
 crag to the dewy plain at the dawn of morning, so 
 leaped the lovely Gulzar from the throne of her father, 
 to the side of the gallant Mirza, who with one hand 
 pressed her to his bosom, whilst with the other he kept 
 at bay the angry attendants of the fallen Prince. Many 
 a bright sword was drawn in the confusion of the 
 moment, some to protect the gallant Abbas, and others 
 
174 GULZAR, OR TIFE ROSE-BOWER. 
 
 to revenge the Prince of Kerman. But at last the stern 
 voice of Aga was heard above the din of battle, and the 
 Nobles shrank back in their places, afraid of the anger 
 of the Shah, leaving the lovers kneeling before the 
 throne. 
 
 "Rise, Abbas," said Aga; "I have wronged thee in 
 my passion: henceforth it will be my endeavor to make 
 thee amends by my favor. Take the hand of my 
 daughter; and when the grey hairs of her father are 
 laid in silence in the lonely tomb, let the sword of 
 MiRZA defend the daughter of Aga. 
 
 Forty days continued the feast, in honor of the nup- 
 tials of the Princess with the gallant Abbas; and the 
 minstrels, as they chaunted the glory of Shah Aga, gave 
 life and animation to the scene. 
 
 "But tell me, dearest Mirza," said Gulzar, "tell me 
 of all your suflerings, and how you escaped from the 
 dark dungeon of Zem. There, I am informed, daylight 
 never enters — there the lonely captive lives and dies 
 unknowing and unknown. Tell me, also, what became 
 of the noble Ali, and his page, the beautiful Mossella. 
 Did the gallant Zouair survive El-Bunder's fatal field?'' 
 
 "Yes, dearest," said Mirza, "1 will relate all to you 
 at some more convenient time; but let us for the present 
 dream not of our former sorrows: our path is now 
 strewn with roses — come, let us gather the flowers in 
 their bloom. Time, the fell destroyer of humanity, 
 stands silently by our side, watching the sands as they 
 quickly pass through the glass of life: with one hand he 
 destroys the monuments of ages, whilst with the other 
 he throws the lines of sorrow athwart the cheek of 
 beauty and the brow of youth. 
 
GULZAR, OR THE ROSE-BOWER. 175 
 
 "ZoiiAiR was saved from the sword of Al-Hassan by 
 the shield of Ali, and your own loved Abbas Mirza 
 claims his lineage from the descendants of the lovely 
 MossELLA, and the noble An, who sleep beside the 
 grave of Ayesiia, on the banks of the crystal Kornah : 
 their names are embalmed in the hearts of the Children 
 of Sont;." 
 
GAZELS, OR LOVE-SONdS 
 
 FROM THE PERSIAN OF HAFIZ. 
 
 23 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 TO 
 
 THE GAZELS 
 
 Op all the mighty Empires which have flourished in 
 the East, that of Persia is undoubtedly one of the most 
 remarkable, and the most celebrated. Enduring for 
 more than two thousand four hundred years, through 
 a succession of vicissitudes almost without a parallel in 
 the history of nations: now the triumphant conqueror, 
 giving laws almost to the Eastern World — and anon 
 the degraded captive, weeping in chains at the chariot 
 wheel of her foe. From the earlist period of her exist- 
 ence, she has commanded deep attention, being either 
 the throne of the lords of Western Asia, or the arena — 
 the battle-ground — on which Monarchs have disputed 
 for the sceptre of the East. 
 
 But it is not our object to treat of Persia either in a 
 political or national sense. All we intend is to call the 
 attention of the young lovers of classic beauty to the 
 unwrought mines of Eastern Ore, rich in Wisdom and 
 in Wit — to arouse them to examine the annals of that 
 
ISO THE GA'ZELS. 
 
 land, once so famous in story, by some supposed to be 
 the ancient Paradise, the Garden of Eden, the birth- 
 place of Man. Iran, the ancient name of Persia, 
 derived from the name of the youngest son of their 
 celebrated King, Feuidoon, comprehends all the country 
 lying between the Tigris and the Oxus, and consequently 
 embraces within its boundaries many places of renown 
 referred to in sacred and profane history; exhibiting 
 great diversity of surface, climate, and productions. 
 " My father's Kingdom," said the younger Cyrus to 
 Xenophon, "is so large that the people perish with cold 
 at one extremity, while they are suffocated with heat 
 at the other;" the truth of which remark can be well 
 appreciated by those travellers who have gasped for 
 breath on the burning sands of Dushistan, and who 
 have afterwards been numbed with cold in the Northern 
 Provinces. 
 
 We shall, therefore, leave to the Historian her rivers, 
 mountains, deserts, her climate, and her soil ; the tombs 
 of her thousand Kings, and the ruins of her fallen cities, 
 we shall leave unmolested ; but we will talk of her Poets 
 — of her Children of Song — of her own loved Fekdusi 
 and the immortal Hafiz. 
 
 The literature of Persia is chiefly confined to works 
 on Theology and Polemics, although there are several 
 rude treatises on the sciences. History, Poetry, and 
 Romance have, for the few past centuries, made no im- 
 provement; neither Bard nor Historian has appeared 
 equal to those which adorned the age of the Ghesme- 
 rides, the Seljucides, the Attabegs of Ears, or of Sultan 
 Hussien Baicara. A mental lethargy seems to have 
 fallen upon the spirit of Persia, and Philosophy and 
 Poetry have become almost extinct in that land, once 
 so famed for son*' and wisdom. 
 
THE GAZELS. 
 
 181 
 
 Among the chief poetical works of the nation, ranks 
 the " Shah Nameh " of Feruusi, which consists of about 
 sixty thousand couplets, in a consecutive series of narra- 
 tives, descriptive of the history of the country for about 
 three thousand seven hundred years. Ferdusi is called 
 the Homer of Persia, and his "Shah Nameh" is in many 
 respects not unlike the "Iliad," abounding in bold and 
 animated figures, high-sounding and noble diction, — 
 polished, yet full of fire. Sir John Malcom, in writing 
 of this Poem, says that the most fastidious European 
 reader will meet with many passages of exquisite beauty. 
 The narrative is very perspicuous, and some of the finest 
 scenes in it are described with simplicity and elegance 
 of diction. 
 
 Next to Ferdusi, in excellence, rank the Poems of 
 NizAMi, of Jami, of Hafti, of Khoosroo, and of Shiran, 
 although Sadi, in didactic poetry, certainly takes pre- 
 cedence. His "Goolistan" and "Bostam" abound in 
 beautiful maxims and fine moral precepts. By pro- 
 fession a Suffee Teacher, he ranks high in the esteem 
 of his country; and his maxims and morals are found ^ 
 as current in the mouths of his countrymen, as are those 
 of the Al-Koran. Numerous are the anecdotes related 
 of Sheik Sadi, among others is that of a rencontre 
 which took place between him and Humam Tarrizee, 
 a contemporary Poet, of some note: 
 
 They met accidentally in the bath at Tabriz, without 
 knowing each other; but entering into conversation, 
 Humam became aware of the birth place of the Sheik, 
 and at the same time declared himself a native of 
 Tabriz. A trial of wit took place; when the latter, 
 observing the baldness of his companion, (a personal 
 peculiarity among his countrymen), rallied him on it: 
 
m 
 
 TlIK OAZKI.S, 
 
 "Whenre comes it," said he, presenting the round-shaped 
 ewer used in ablutions, and turned upside down, "whence 
 comes it, that all you Shirazees have heads like this?" 
 "And how comes it," said Sadi, presenting his own 
 vessel, and pointing to its empty cavity, "that all you 
 Tabrizees have heads like this?" thereby turning the 
 laugh upon the other, who, struck with the keen retort, 
 recognized in the stranger, the celebrated Sheik Sadi, 
 and took him home to his house, and lavished on him 
 the utmost kindness. 
 
 Sadi was born at Shiraz, in the year 1194, and died 
 at the age of 116 years. 
 
 As Ferddsi ranks first in the list of Epic Poets, so 
 Hafiz is styled the Prince of Lyric Poetry. His odes 
 have obtained celebrity beyond the confines of his native 
 country; and the poetry of Europe and America have 
 been enriched by many beautiful translations from his 
 works. The well known ode beginning "Ajiir cen l^oork 
 i Shirauzee" &c., so beautifully but freely translated by 
 Sir William Jones, is of itself sufficient to obtain for him 
 the poetic wreath ; and which in the original called forth 
 the real or feigned displeasure of the great Tameui.ane, 
 who demanded of Hafiz how he dared to make so free 
 with his two noble cities, Samarcand and Bokhara; 
 which, in a beautiful stanza, the Poet professed he would 
 give to his mistress. "Can the gifts of Hafiz ever im- 
 poverish TiMUR?" was the reply of the Poet, which 
 changed the conqueror's wrath into admiration, and 
 dieted reward instead of punishment. 
 
 The poetry of Hafiz has ever been pronounced by 
 most oriental scholars to be singularly original in its 
 character — simjjle and unailected, yet possessing a wild 
 and peculiar sublimity. His sudden transitions from tlie 
 
THE GAZELS. 1 83 
 
 joys of love and wine, to reflections on the instability 
 of human felicity, are beautiful, and resemble the odes 
 of Horace. His "Gazels," or love-songs, which are of 
 a peculiar construction, each verse having its own 
 imagery, and succeeding the other, often, without any 
 seeming necessary analogy of idea, are considered beau- 
 tiful in their kind. The grace, the ease, and harmony 
 with which they abound, even when thus appearing so 
 disconnected, entitle them to the appellation given by 
 Hafiz himself, when he compares them to "Pearls strung 
 at random." 
 
 The lovely Shiraz gave birth to this amatory Poet; 
 and his tomb, situated among the cypresses and roses 
 of that delightful Province, is the frecjuent resort of his 
 countrymen, who go thither to recite the odes of their 
 favorite bard, many of whom appeal to his pages for 
 an omen of success in their undertaking, beUeving that 
 they are as powerful in taking out a fal, or omen, as 
 the pages of the Al-Koran. 
 
 Hafiz flourished in the fourteenth century; and in 
 the language of his epitaph, as furnished by Koemfer, 
 the traveller: — "The incomparable second Sadi, Mo- 
 hammed Hafiz, quitted this perishable region and went 
 to the garden of Paradise. He was the lamp of the 
 learned — a luminary of a brilliant lustre; and as Mos- 
 sella was his chosen residence, search in Mossella for the 
 time of his death." 
 
 The following Gazels, freely translated, are clothed in 
 an European dress, throwing, as it were, a veil over the 
 too glowing imagery of the East, which many of our 
 readers might think too amatory, were they presented 
 in their Oriental drapery. But whilst we have done 
 this, we were careful not to lose the spirit of the Poet. 
 Whether the efl'usions of tenderness or the brilliant 
 
184 THE GAZEI.S. 
 
 sallies of wit, joined with the luxuriance of an unre- 
 strained imagination, may or may not have been aided 
 by the luscious wines of Shiraz, or by its instructive and 
 delightful macamat, just as similar beauties are reported 
 to have arisen from similar stimuli, in that truly Hatizian 
 poetry so immediately present to the classic recollection, 
 which sings the praises of Teios, jMityline, and Faler- 
 num, we will not pretend to decide. Our object was 
 to present our readers with a few flow'ers of Oriental 
 beauty, leaving them to cull their own favorite from the 
 specimens presented, and to imbibe in them a love for a 
 country once so famous in ancient story as being the 
 Garden of Eden and the birth-place of Man. If we 
 have done so, our end has been attained and we are 
 satisfied. 
 
 True it is, that the c^nic may sneer at, and the rigid 
 moralist attempt to condemn what we term the beauties 
 of Hafiz; but with such we \\ill not argue the question. 
 In the land of their nativity, they are found in the 
 mouths of the Prince and the Peasant, and the wise 
 and the foolish quote with rapture his odes. 
 
 The following are only a few of his many productions, 
 (versified by the Author, from prose translations made 
 by eminent Persian scholars,) but suflicient to show as 
 specimens of the rich mines of Persian literature which 
 yet remain unwrought by the classic American. 
 
 In the present day, this species of writing appears to 
 have suffered the fate of all other things in Persia. The 
 great majority of the Poets are poor, and their produc- 
 tions are in keeping with their poverty; yet the merest 
 rhyme w ill receive some resjiect from the richest noble 
 of the Kingdom: the names of Fi;ki)i;si, Sadi, and 
 Hafiz being talismans to enter the court of the Prince 
 and the palace of the Shah. 
 
(lAZE L I. 
 
 'Tis morning! — see his dawning beam 
 V^eil'd in a blush of rosy light! 
 
 Then let the liquid ruby gleam 
 In golden goblets shining bright. 
 
 Ho! bring the juice of luscious vine, 
 While o'er the tulip's cheek is seen 
 
 The tears of morning brightly shine, 
 And gladness greets the opening scene. 
 
 Rich is the breath of rosy morn 
 
 As from the bower of love she wakes: 
 
 Then drink the wine without the thorn — 
 The undistill'd which nature makes. 
 
 Like Queen upon her em'rald throne, 
 Within her bower presides the rose: 
 
 Then quaff the wine, the rosy wine, 
 Which like a flaming ruby glows. 
 
 Ha! sleep the watchers of the night 
 When morning's sun is in the sky? 
 
 Ope, ope the gates! — it is not right 
 In Morphean dreams asleep to lie! 
 24 
 
186 
 
 THE GAZEIiS. 
 
 Haste! haste! all ye who love to dream 
 Ot" paphian smiles and breasts of snow, 
 
 Drink of the grape — ye wise, who seem, 
 To Allah pay your morning vow. 
 
 And nectar drink — ambrosial bliss! — 
 From lips that vie with Peris born ; 
 
 For Hafiz loves with joy to kiss 
 The virgin cheek of balmy morn. 
 
 GAZEL II. 
 
 The rose unfolds its velvet leaf. 
 
 The leaf the bulbul loves so well. 
 And woos, with sweet and balmy breath, 
 
 Young love, within her bower to dwell : 
 Then, Leila, let us seek the bower 
 Where blooms that love-diffusing flower, 
 And drink from Lethe's bubbling stream, 
 
 And drown the past in rosy wine; 
 'Midst roses toy, 'till morning bright 
 
 Illumes the curtains of the sky, 
 And wakes to life love's witching light, 
 
 That now is in thy dreamy eye: 
 For it is sweet with one we love. 
 To seek the fragrant jasmine grove. 
 And breathe afresh love's ardent vows, 
 
 And nectar sip from dewy lips, 
 
THE GAZELS. 
 
 Far sweeter, redder, than the rose 
 
 From which the bee its honey sips. 
 Then haste, my Leila ! e'er the bloom 
 
 Has from the cheek of summer fled ! 
 Haste to the bower of sweet perfume, 
 
 And wreathe with am'rous flow'rs thy head: 
 And while we quaff the ruby wine. 
 
 Let Hafiz sing his melting lay. 
 Reclining on that breast of thine. 
 
 Breathing his heart and soul away. 
 
 187 
 
 GAZEL III. 
 
 O! minstrel, strike the trembling string, 
 And let thy dulcet music flow. 
 
 And call for heart-expanding wine, 
 
 And bind with flowers thy joyous brow. 
 
 Here sit thee down from prying eyes, 
 
 The rosy lips of Leila kiss, 
 And bask in smiles warm as the skies 
 
 That curtain Leila's bower of bliss. 
 
 How canst thou eat the bread of life, 
 And drink not of the sparkling wine? 
 
 Come! — quaff" to her whose mem'ry lives 
 Within that heart and soul of thine. 
 
188 THE GAZET,*!. 
 
 Quick! fetch a cup, that I may fill 
 The luscius juice of Shiraz grove — 
 
 Wine fresh and sparkUng from the rill 
 Which springs within the bower of love. 
 
 For Leila, with the golden hair, 
 
 Within her bower now weaves for me 
 
 A garland of the flowrets fair, 
 
 Perfum'd with myrrh from amra's tree. 
 
 O! gentle zephyr, should'st thou stray 
 By Leila's bower in joyous glee: 
 
 O! whisper Hafiz's melting lay. 
 And kiss her ruby lip for me. 
 
 GAZEL IV. 
 
 [translated by sir AVILLIAM JONES.] 
 
 Sweet maid, if thou would'st charm my sight. 
 
 And bid these arms thy neck enfold, 
 
 That rosy cheek, that lily hand 
 
 Would give thy Poet more delight 
 
 Than all Bokhara's vaunted gold, 
 
 Than all the gems of Samarcand. 
 
 Boy, let yon liquid ruby flow, 
 And bid thy pensive heart be glad. 
 
THE GA2ELS. 
 
 189 
 
 Whate'er the frowning zealots say: 
 Tell them their Eden cannot show 
 A stream so clear as Rocknabad, 
 A bower so sweet as Mossella. 
 
 Oh ! when those fair perfidious maids 
 Whose eyes our secret haunts infest, 
 Their dear, destructive charms display. 
 Each glance my tender breast invades, 
 And robs my wounded soul of rest. 
 As Tartars seize their destin'd prey. 
 
 In vain with love our bosoms glow ! 
 Can all our tears, can all our sighs 
 New lustre to those charms impart? 
 Can cheeks where living roses blow, 
 Where Nature spreads her richest dyes, 
 Require the borrowed gloss of art? 
 
 Speak not of fate! — ah, change the theme! 
 
 And talk of odors — talk of wine: 
 
 Talk of the flow'rs that round us bloom — 
 
 'Tis all a cloud, 'tis all a dream ! 
 
 To love and joy thy thoughts confine. 
 
 Nor hope to pierce the sacred gloom. 
 
 Beauty has such resistless power 
 That e'en the proud Egyptian dame 
 Sigh'd for the blooming Hebrew boy : 
 For her how fatal was the hour 
 When to the banks of Nilus came 
 A youth so lovely and so coy! 
 
190 THE GAZEI.S. 
 
 But ah! sweet maid, my counsel liear — 
 Youth should attend when those advise 
 Whom long experience renders sage: 
 While music charms the ravisli'd ear, 
 While sparkling cups delight our eyes, 
 Be gay, and scorn the frowns of age. 
 
 What cruel answer have 1 heard ? 
 And yet, by Heaven, I love thee still ! 
 Can aught be cruel from thy lip? 
 Yet say, how fell that bitter word 
 From lips which streams of sweetness fill. 
 Which nought but drops of honey sip. 
 
 Go boldly forth, my simple lay. 
 
 Whose accents flow with artless ease, 
 
 Like orient pearls at random strung: 
 
 Thy notes are sweet, the damsels say. 
 
 But ah ! far sweeter if they please 
 
 The Nymph for whom these notes are sung. 
 
 GAZEL V, 
 
 O! maiden with the breast of snow. 
 And heart cold as the marble stone, 
 Yet beauteous as the silv'ry gem 
 That sparkles on night's queenly brow. 
 From me my strength and power is gone, 
 But who 's the cause I will not name. 
 
THE GAZELS. 191 
 
 I will not rove at dewy dawn 
 Within the flowring jasmine grove, 
 For there I met, like young gazelle 
 Disporting on the dewy lawn, 
 A maid, whose soft and witching spell 
 Has fired my foolish heart with love. 
 
 Say, what can soothe the aching breast, 
 Or cause the restless heart be still. 
 Which burns and boils continually — 
 Now dreams of joy and then of ill? 
 To kiss the lip that mars thy rest. 
 Or at her feet in sadness die? 
 
 { 
 
 O! that 1 were the silken fold 
 
 That chastely veils her eye of light. 
 
 Or girdle of the burnish'd gold 
 
 That binds with diamond clasp her waist. 
 
 Then would I taste love's pure delight. 
 
 And my pain'd heart be hush'd to rest. 
 
 Her shoulders are like Casbin's mount. 
 Her breast white as Dunwamund's snow, 
 But cold and gelid as the fount 
 From which no living waters rise. 
 Yet she is beauteous as the bow 
 Spanning at morn the orient skies. 
 
 O ! Hafiz, canst thou e'er forget 
 
 That form on which thy soul is set? 
 
 Or what 's the cure — that thou must sip 
 
 The poison from the upas tree, 
 
 Or nectar from her ruby lip? 
 
 Come, Hafiz, Hafiz tell to me I 
 
192 
 
 THE GAZEI.S. 
 
 y / / ^-- . / 
 
 <.->^'.- 
 
 (lAZEL VI 
 
 O ! bid me not describe the pain 
 
 That I have felt — the joy, the hate — 
 
 Nor drink the poison o'er again, 
 
 Of absence which I've drank so late: 
 
 I cannot bear the agony, 
 
 The thought is madness unto me. 
 
 Far through the world I've rov'd along, 
 With heart as light as Peri's wing, 
 
 Until I heard the Syren's song. 
 
 Whose voice was sweet as balmy spring: 
 
 But ask me not that one to name. 
 
 For whom does burn love's ardent flame. 
 
 The tears that from my eye-lids flow. 
 Bedew the flowers on which she treads. 
 
 Yet from her lips I heard a vow 
 That Hafiz's lonely bosom glads: 
 
 So sweet — O! bid me not disclose! 
 
 Go breathe the perfume of the rose. 
 
 Ila! dost thou bite the curling lip? 
 
 What dost thou hint that I have told? 
 True, I have drunk like nectar up, 
 
 A ruby lip, worth more than gold ! 
 But whose ? ah! bid me not disclose: 
 Go breathe the perfume of the rose. 
 
THE GAZELS. 193 
 
 From thee how lonely do I feel ! 
 
 My aching heart, like wounded dove, 
 In anguish flies the rankling steel, 
 
 But flies in vain — the wound is love ! 
 Then fondly Hafiz turns again 
 With pleasing grief he can't explain. 
 
 GAZEL VII. 
 
 Night asks me, why do I complain, 
 And Day, why do I grieve for thee : 
 From dewy night to op'ning morn. 
 Like bird bereaved, I mourn in pain. 
 My heart with fear and anguish torn, 
 Because that thou art cold to me. 
 
 What can 1 do but weep, since thou 
 Hast from my heart estranged thy love. 
 And made it run in streams of blood. 
 Where streams of joy were wont to flow ? 
 So dark the clouds that o'er me brood, 
 I would not wish my foe to prove. 
 
 Adown my cheeks the briny tear 
 In pain drops fast are seen to fall 
 Whene'er my poor heart thinks of thee. 
 While thou, so free and void of care, 
 Think'st not of Hafiz, who on thee, 
 In weal or woe, has plac'd his all. 
 25 
 
19 i Tin; (i.v/KLs. 
 
 GAZEL Vlll. 
 
 O! Zephyr, when thou wand'rest mild 
 At dreamy twilight's gentle hour, 
 
 whisper softly to my fawn. 
 Reclining on her green-leaf'd bower, 
 That for her sake in deserts wild 
 
 1 love to dwell — alone, unknown. 
 
 Yet why, ah ! why does she, whose heart 
 W'^as form'd for kindness, and whose hand. 
 Dispenses sweets to all around. 
 No pledge of love from paphian land 
 Send to assuage my anguish'd heart. 
 Or balm to soothe my fest'ring wound? 
 
 Does beauteous LEiiiA laugh to scorn 
 The bulbul's love, nor deign to waste 
 One thought on me? Ah! was it pride 
 That made her stoop that I might taste 
 Her dewy lip, then ])lant a thorn 
 To rankle in my wounded side? 
 
 Ah! was it ])ride that made her gain 
 My trusting heart with looks of love — 
 With smiles so sweet, and words so kind. 
 To triumph o'er me like a dove 
 Ensnared by kindness, which in vain, 
 With trap and gin, she could not bind' 
 
THE GAZELS. 195 
 
 When with thy friends thou pass'st the night — 
 And thou, the star that lamps the scene — 
 When love and beauty on thee smiles, 
 O, think on me — on all that's been! 
 In desert drear thou art my light, 
 The star that all my gloom beguiles. 
 
 But vain are smiles from brilliant eyes. 
 If love and truth be absent there : 
 To Hafiz's strains Zoiiraii may lead 
 In dance the planets of the air. 
 But my fond heart in madness dies, 
 If love and truth in tlicc arc dead. 
 
 GAZEL JX. 
 
 Sweet maid, O ! bid me not erase 
 From oft" the tablets of my heart 
 Thy cherished name, nor from my soul 
 Thy graceful image e'er displace. 
 For time nor distance e'er shall part 
 Thy dear remembrance from my breast, 
 Nor thy sweet kiss, which once was given 
 As token of our vows in Heaven. 
 
 From earliest youtii my heart was bound 
 In sweet alliance with thine own, 
 And still shall be, in endless bliss, 
 Until the fire of life is eone. 
 
196 THE GAZELS. 
 
 Within my heart a spring is found 
 Of love's dehcious happiness, 
 Welling, like Kerman's crystal stream, 
 In desert lone, 'neath Luna's beam. 
 
 Yet blame me not: — my heart is sad, 
 My feverish brain with madness burns, 
 And vainly seeks for cooling shades. 
 For cypress groves in darkness clad. 
 In vain, in vain! — for still it turns 
 To Leila, and love's witching glades: 
 But ye, all ye who Hafiz blame. 
 Shun love's consuming dangerous flame. 
 
 GAZEL X. 
 
 O, gentle zephyr, shouldst tiiou pass 
 The bower of Leila in thy way. 
 
 From her soft ringlets, which surpass 
 The silken down of the amrita, 
 
 O! bring me odors, and a kiss. 
 
 From Leila's lips, of happiness. 
 
 By all that 's rich, by all that 's rare, 
 In life or death my soul is thine, 
 
 If thou wilt from my Leila fair 
 
 Bring back this foolish heart of mine. 
 
 Or words of love from her whose bloom 
 
 And sweetness vies the myrrh's perfume. 
 
THE GAZELS. 197 
 
 But should just Heaven refuse my suit, 
 And Leila laugh my prayers to scorn, 
 
 And send me leaves instead of fruit, 
 
 In place of perfum'd flowers — a thorn. 
 
 Then bring me dust from Leila's grove, 
 
 To dry my burning tears of love. 
 
 Alone, alone, I sigh for thee. 
 
 In vain I list each passing sound ! 
 Like some bewilder'd wretch, I flee 
 
 To mourn my love in gloom profound: 
 Night's tears bedew my palid cheek, 
 As Leila's form I vainly seek. 
 
 But when fond hope my breast invades, 
 
 I dream that Leila will be mine — 
 She who is chaste as Casbin's shades. 
 
 And graceful as the tender pine: 
 Then shakes with joy my tender mind, 
 Like reed that's shaken by the wind. 
 
 Yet though my Leila now is cold. 
 And does not wear one smile for me, 
 
 I would not give for India's gold 
 One hair of her dear head to thee: 
 
 I'd rather press her lilied hand 
 
 Than all the wealth of Samarcand. 
 
 Slave! Yes, I am her veriest slave! 
 
 But ah I what 't would avail to me 
 To float, like lotus, on the wave. 
 
 From earth's care-bondage, light and free! 
 If Leila laughs and leads at will. 
 Slave Hafiz is, and must be still ! 
 
198 THE GAZELS. 
 
 GAZEL XI 
 
 Yes, I ^vill swear that thou art fan- 
 As is the breast of Ulied lea, 
 
 Thy shape Hght as the bird of air, 
 And graceful as the cypress tree. 
 
 My soul is wrapt in ecstacy 
 
 Whene'er you speak or smile to me. 
 
 Whene'er I see the almond's bloom, 
 I think upon thy snowy breast, 
 
 When'er I breathe the myrrh's perfume, 
 I kiss thy lip in transport blest. 
 
 Thy nature is all gentleness, 
 As is the fresh leaf of the rose. 
 
 And softly languishing thine eyes. 
 As is the timid tender roe's; 
 
 And fragrant as the jessamine. 
 
 And luscious as is Kishma's wine. 
 Are the rich odors of thy mind. 
 
 Thy guileless art, thy feign'd disdain. 
 Now yield me joy, then yield me pain. 
 
 A chain of love is 'round thy friend. 
 From which away he cannot lly: 
 
 Thy presence is his hapjiiness, 
 Thy sunny smile 's the excess of joy — 
 
 The luscious ecstacy of bliss! 
 Tho' dang'rous are the desert's sands, 
 
 And treach'rous is dark Oman's sea, 
 Afar he'll roam, thro' distant lands, 
 
 And IIafiz lives or dies with thee. 
 
THE GAZEI.S. 199 
 
 GAZEL XII. 
 
 O ! tell me not of rosy bowers, 
 Unless that Leila there is mine — 
 
 O ! tell me not of spring-blown flowers, 
 Unless their leaves are dipt in wine! 
 
 What is the jasmine-scented bower, 
 The garden's walk, with border green, 
 
 Unless I hear the notes of love, 
 
 Unless that Leila brights the scene? 
 
 The cypress waving in the shade, 
 The motion of the dew-clad flow'rs, 
 
 Remind me of my charming maid. 
 
 Whose absence dims my brightest hours. 
 
 What is a form with ruby lips, 
 
 With cheeks that mock the rose's bloom. 
 If guileless love not on them sits, 
 
 If coldness shades those cheeks in gloom? 
 
 Though sweet to me is sparkling wine, 
 And dear the garden of the rose. 
 
 Yet if fair Leila is not mine, 
 
 They to my heart no sweets disclose. 
 
 The fairest scenes that e'er were made 
 To start to life by hand of art, 
 
 Are lonely, if no charming maid, 
 
 With looks of love, her smiles impart. 
 
200 THE f;AZEI,S. 
 
 Thy life, O Hafiz ! scarce is fit, 
 Like nizar, to be thrown away: 
 
 A flickering taper, feeby lit, 
 
 Whose light is lost in blaze of day. 
 
 {5^ 
 
DUNALLEN: 
 
 A TALE OF THE ISLES, 
 
 Why glooms Dunallen's haughty Lord? 
 
 Why shrieks the mermaid on the stone? 
 Why croaks the raven on the tower, 
 
 With such a wild and "earie" moan? 
 "Ho! warder, ho! — unbar the gate, 
 
 "And bid the boatman haste with speed 
 "To St. Columba's sacred isle,^^) 
 
 "And bring old Father Windermede! 
 " For he, of all the holy men, 
 
 "Alone can heal the wounded mind: 
 " Haste, boatman I haste ! — unfurl the sail ! 
 
 "And fear not winter's stormy wind." 
 But hark! — the storm is gathering still, 
 
 The livid lightning flashes 'round, 
 The thunder roars along the hill 
 
 As if 't would rend the solid ground: 
 Yet still the warder louder calls — 
 
 " Haste, boatman ! haste ! — unfurl your sail 
 " Heed not the gathering tempest's wrath, 
 
 "Fear not the glooming stormy gale!" 
 26 
 
20*3 DL'NALLKN. 
 
 The boat has left a stormy shore, 
 
 And o'er the foaming sea she flies, 
 Like arrow from the hunter's bow, 
 
 Like sea-bird 'neath the angry skies. 
 The lightning's wing now o'er it gleams. 
 
 The muttering thunders roll around; — 
 Haste, boatman! haste! — the morning beams 
 
 Serene on St. Columba's ground. 
 
 Away! away! with bending mast 
 
 The boatman guides his fragile bark, 
 Now toppling on the crested wave, 
 
 And now within its caverns dark. 
 Away ! away ! the boatman sped. 
 
 Until the morning 'gan to smile, 
 And crimson'd, with its rosy beams, 
 
 lona's sweet and sacred Isle. 
 The Abbot came with rosary. 
 
 With many an aged Priest in train, 
 To ask what made the boatman speed 
 
 Across the wild and stormy main. 
 And quick the boatman told his tale. 
 
 And quickly bade the Father come, 
 To shrive Dunallen's haughty Lord 
 
 Ere he should seek death's lonely home. 
 And many a Priest his ave said, 
 
 Their beads they counted o'er and o'er, 
 And prayed for Father Windeumede, 
 
 Who sought Dunallen's stormy shore. 
 For high upon a frowning cliff' 
 
 Dunallen's castle proudly stood, 
 Grey with the moss of countless years, 
 
 And crimson'd o'er with tales of blood. 
 
 Jl 
 
DVNAIiLEN. 
 
 And there Dunallen's Chieftain lay, 
 
 Writhing beneath remorse's sting, — 
 Scorched by the burning fire of crime, 
 
 Like scorpion in the fiery ring. 
 And down beside the chieftain's couch 
 
 The aged Father lowly bent, 
 And warmly breath'd a prayer for them 
 
 Who do in time their sins repent. 
 Oft did he cross his aged breast. 
 
 And oft he kiss'd his rosary. 
 When up the frantic Chieftain sprang. 
 
 And bade him stop his mummery: 
 "Hold, old man! hold! I know thee well! 
 
 "Thou art and yet art not a Priest; 
 " Old Scarba's Chief in monkish cell, 
 
 " With sackcloth on the warrior's breast. 
 "He who would wear the eagle's plume, 
 
 " Must with the daring eagle fly, 
 "And he who would the claymore wield, 
 
 "Should never quail to mortal eye. 
 "Ha! — dost thou fear? No craven monk 
 
 " I want to shrive Dunallen's Lord ! 
 " For he who hears my tale of blood, 
 
 " Must be as brave as is my sword. 
 "Away with prayers ! away with beads ! 
 
 "They soothe the vulgar ear and mind — 
 " I sent for Father Windermede, 
 
 "To speak unto as to a friend. 
 
 " My tale is long, but let thy ear (*' 
 
 "Be like a watchful sentinel; 
 "And let thy Ups be firmly sealed 
 
 "With silence as the gates of hell. 
 
 203 
 
204 DIN ALLEN. 
 
 "Come near me — thou hast nought to fear! 
 
 " My hand is feeble, and like light 
 "Of flickering taper is my soul, 
 
 "That vanishes in darksome night. 
 "Yet 't was not always so! — my spear 
 
 "Has made the bravest Saxon fly, 
 "And I have seen the boldest quail 
 
 " Before my dark and fearless eye ! 
 
 "But to my tale: 'T was long ago, 
 
 " Perhaps about two score of years, 
 "Since my brave brother joined his King, 
 
 "Surroumded by five hundred spears. 
 "The Saxon foe had cross'd the Tweed, 
 
 "And swept our land with sword and flame; 
 " DuNALLEN, with his clansmen bold, 
 
 "Sought glory, or a deathless name. 
 "I, like a laggard, stayed behind, 
 
 "As guardian of his youthful heir, 
 "Companion of his peerless bride, 
 
 "The lovely Emma, of Glenair. 
 "But how I kept that priceless trust, 
 
 "Go ask the dark, deep, rolling sea; 
 "But whisper not the damning tale 
 
 "Which ocean's wave may tell to thee! 
 " Look, Father ! look ! — that gathering cloud 
 
 " Which o'er Dunallen's castle glooms, 
 "Enwraps within its sable shroud 
 
 "Their spirits from their lonely tombs! 
 "Ilark! — did you hear that piercing shriek? 
 
 "Hark! — did you hear that thrilling cry? 
 "You tremble. Father! Save her child ! 
 
 "O! soothe a mother's agony ! 
 
DUNALLEN. 205 
 
 "I cannot bear the dreadful sight — 
 " My eyeballs burn with inward fire ! 
 
 "Bat save them, Father, ere they sink, 
 "And in dark ocean's wave expire! 
 
 "Away! away! — 't is phantasy! 
 
 "'T is childish, thus to be unman'd; 
 "But grief and pain have made my mind 
 
 "Feeble as is the willow wand. 
 "You know DuNALLEN ne'er returned — 
 
 " No trophy of his sword or shield 
 "In triumph came. He, with his King, 
 
 "Fell upon Flodden's fatal field. 
 " Six months I mourn'd in weeds of woe, 
 
 "As mourns the falcon o'er the dove, 
 "Then donned Dunallen's eagle's plume, 
 
 "And claimed fair Emma's hand and love. 
 "As shrinks the sweet and tender flower 
 
 " Before chill winter's freezing breath, 
 " So shrank she from my fond embrace, 
 
 " Loathing, as from the touch of Death. 
 " « Begone, base wretch ! ' she proudly said ; 
 
 "•Dunallen's heir is by my side: 
 " 'And were he not, I would not wed 
 
 "'Thy guileful hand, or be thy bride.' 
 "Stung to the core, I sought revenge. — 
 
 "Ha! dost thou start? Stay, old man, stay! 
 "I sought revenge — and found it, too. 
 
 "As serpent lures its heedless prey, 
 "Where'er she went I watch'd her steps — 
 
 "At morn, at night, in bower, in hall, 
 " Like shadow, turning with the sun, 
 " Her griefs and joys, I knew them all. 
 
206 DUNALLEN. 
 
 "This castle's wall is steep and high, 
 
 "None, save the eagle, dares its height; 
 "Its dungeons silent as the grave, 
 
 "And cold as is the winter's night. 
 "This was her bower, and, with her child, 
 
 "She watched the summer's flower decay, 
 "And autumn's gorgeous robes grow dim, 
 
 "And, chilled by winter, fade away. 
 "Twelve months she mourn'd her absent lord, 
 
 " With heart as lone as weeds of woe, 
 " Until her eye had lost its fire. 
 
 "Her cheek assumed the shade of snow; 
 "And many a scheme she vainly tried 
 
 "To 'scape this lonely fatal tower. — 
 "How vain the thought! — I watch'd her steps 
 
 "From morn 'till midnight's dreary hour. 
 
 "At length, on such a night as this, 
 
 " When ocean's waves ran mountains high, 
 " When thunders rolled along the hill, 
 
 "And lightnings flash'd athwart the sky, 
 " Fair Emma sought the boatman's cot, 
 
 " (Dark Hamish, with the scowling brow,) 
 "And bade him man his swiftest boat, 
 
 "For she must ocean's billows plough; 
 "And down before the surly wight 
 
 "She threw a purse of glittering gold, 
 "As earnest of her bounteousness, 
 
 "And wish to leave Dunallen's hold. 
 "'To-night,' she said, *I must away 
 
 "'To fam'd lona's sacred shrine, 
 " 'And there in penitence to mourn 
 
 "♦O'er hopes and joys that once were mine. 
 
DUNALLKN. 207 
 
 " 'I -have a vow that must be paid 
 
 "'Before the morning lights the sky; 
 "'Then man thy swiftest boat with speed! 
 
 " ' That o'er the billows I may fly.' 
 
 " The night was dark, and fearfully 
 
 "The wind roared 'midst the leafless trees. 
 " 'T was vain to think the boatman's bark 
 
 "Could live upon the stormy seas. 
 "'Stay, lady! stay!' dark Hamish said, 
 
 "'Until the storm subsides awhile; 
 " ' No boat could ride these angry waves, 
 
 " * Nor reach lona's sacred Isle. 
 " ' To-morrow, when the storm is past, 
 
 " ' My bark I'll man without delay, 
 " 'And land thee on lona's shore 
 
 " ' Ere night enshrouds the star of day.' 
 "But still she cried — 'Haste, boatman, haste! 
 
 " ' I may not stay until the morn ; 
 "'lona's Saint will guard our bark, 
 
 " 'And guide us safely thro' the storm.' 
 
 "How vain the plan! — she deem'd that sleep 
 
 "Had with its opiate sealed my eyes; 
 "And, having bribed my swiftest boat, 
 
 " Would brave the dangers of the skies. 
 " Dark lower'd the clouds, the gentle moon 
 
 " With silver horn scarce lit the sky, 
 "And not one single star was seen 
 
 "To. guide the boatman's wistful eye. 
 "I knew it all — I plann'd the scheme, 
 
 " 'T was I unfurl'd the fluttering sail, 
 
20M 
 
 Ur.NALLK.N. 
 
 *"T was I who made the boatman speed, — 
 
 "But not to St. Columba's isle. 
 "Old man, it was a fearful hour 
 " When Emma left Dunallex's tower, 
 "And with her favorite, only child, 
 " Embarked upon the ocean wild ! 
 " Days, months, and years have o'er me past, 
 "Yet still I hear that stormy blast; 
 "I see the dark, deep, foaming sea 
 " Writhing in dreadful agony ! 
 "And far upon its crested wave 
 
 "A fragile bark, at random driven, 
 "With broken oar and sailless mast, — 
 
 "A prey unto the winds of Heaven. 
 " I saw it all ; I heard the cry 
 "Of deep despair — of agony, 
 "When darkness, as with sable shroud, 
 "Enwrapt them in the thunder-cloud, 
 "And the wild shriek rose o'er the gale, 
 
 " When deep beneath the foaming wave, 
 " Dunallen's bride and only child 
 
 "Sank to their lone and watery grave. 
 "None, none survived the morning's light, 
 "To tell the dangers of that night; 
 "But long the maids of Oransay, 
 
 "In plaintive numbers, mourn'd their doom, 
 "And ocean's sea-nymphs love to strew 
 
 " With fairest flowers their lonely tomb. 
 
 "My tale is done, my race is run — 
 "Dunallen leaves no child or heir; 
 
 "Last of his line, like blasted tree, 
 
 " Which fruit, nor leaves, nor branches bear. 
 
DUNALLEN. 209 
 
 "My tale is done, my race is run, 
 "And long before another sun, 
 "DuNALi.EN, with his broken brand, 
 "Alone must brave death's gloomy land, 
 "And cross that dark and stormy sea 
 " Which bounds the dread eternity ! 
 "You whisper pardon. — Father, no! 
 
 " Dunallen's Lord no pardon craves : 
 " The ocean's wave, the mountain's snow, 
 
 " In vain would wash his blood-stain'd grave. 
 "Alone he lived, alone he'll die, 
 " Like eagle of his native sky, 
 "And fearless meet the gathering storm, 
 " By Church, or Priest unshrived, unshorn ! " 
 
 Awe-struck, the aged Father knelt, 
 
 With outstretched hands and glist'ning eye, 
 And breathed a warm and fervent prayer 
 
 To Him who rules the earth and sky: 
 " Father of Heaven ! thy list'nlng ear 
 
 "Hast heard the wild, the dreadful tale; 
 "With Thee I leave the guilty soul, 
 
 " To save it, or to send to Hell ! " 
 
 Not sooner said, than blacker still 
 The glooming thunder swept the hill, 
 And, like a ship when tempest toss'd, 
 
 Dunallen's castle felt the shock, 
 And from its summit to its base, 
 
 Trembled upon its sea-girt rock. 
 One shriek, one wild and piercing cry 
 Of grief, of heart-felt agony 
 27 
 
210 DUNALIiEN. 
 
 Was heard to rise above the storm, 
 
 As 't were some sinner's parting breath - 
 As if some heart surcharged with crime 
 
 Was struggUng in the pangs of death. 
 And such it was, — for on the morn 
 A blacken'd corpse, all scorched and torn. 
 Was found within Lord Rannald's hall. 
 
 As if consumed by lightning: 
 For the same bolt that shook the wall, 
 
 Threw o'er the Chief its fiery wing, 
 Leaving behind, as blackened scz'oll, 
 What once contained his guilty soul. 
 
NOTES TO DUNALLEN. 
 
 (1) "And bid the boatman haste with speed 
 To St. Columba's sacred Isle." 
 
 St. Columba, or lona, an island lying on the western coast of 
 Scotland, celebrated for its ancient ruins, venerable by years, and 
 the sacred offices for which they were dedicated. About the middle 
 of the sixth century, St. Columba founded a monastery on the island, 
 and endeavored to ditTuse the light of Christianity among the 
 western Islanders ; and so famous did this seat of learning become, 
 that teachers were taken from it to the seminaries of England, and 
 missionary expeditions planned and executed to Norway and Russia. 
 
 Here, it is said, are the tombs of forty-eight Kings of Scotland, 
 eight of Norway, four of Ireland, and one of France; and many 
 of the West Insular Chiefs chose it as their last resting place, 
 where their ashes might repose in safety. The ruins are extensive, 
 but the style of architecture is rude, and the sculptures, although 
 numerous, are grotesque in design and execution. 
 
 (2) " My tale is long," &g. 
 
 This tale is founded on the following tradition, current among 
 the western Islanders: During the reign of James IV. of Scotland, 
 one of the Chiefs of the Isles, along with five hundred of his clan, 
 joined the King at the battle of Flodden, so fatal to the glory and 
 happiness of Scotland, and fell in the battle. Few, or almost none 
 of his followers survived their Chief. On the nev.s of the dis- 
 astrous result of the engagement, Rannald, brother to the Chief 
 who was supposed to have fallen, assumed the Chieftainship of the 
 
212 DINALLEN. 
 
 clan, setting aside the title of the infant heir of the fallen Chief; 
 and his mother refusing to marry the usurper, both were imprisoned 
 by him in the strong tower of Dunallen, and from which attempting 
 to escape to lona, they were overtaken by a storm and drowned. 
 Lord Rannald lived a life of blood and crime, rumor assigning to 
 him an agency in the death of his relatives. He was killed by 
 lightning, when in the act of confession to his Priest, asserted to 
 have been the elder brother, who survived the slaughter of his 
 countrymen, but returning in grief to his native islands, and find- 
 ing his wife and child dead, and his brotlier in possession of his 
 estate, retired to lona and assumed the cloister, under the name of 
 Father Windermede. 
 
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