Class i __ Book & as it passed. 44 ABDALLAH. When on the plain, the even view Was unobstructed, and the hue Of the bright flame still brighter grew. Abdallah's heart was brave as e'er Beat in man's breast, but a strange fear Mixed with his feelings, as he came Nearer this wild portentous flame : Beneath its brilliant rays there moved A sable groupe ; the wish approved By reason to inspect the deed That thus in darkness veiled its head Urged him along. The yielding sand Received his silent footsteps, and Even had it not, the rushing wind, Shaking the desert palms behind, They now were leaving, would have drowned All traces of a milder sound. With beating heart and indrawn breath, Fearing to wake the air, lest death From some unearthly hand might fly Upon its murmur; drawing nigh, Upon a palankeen where flowers That once had graced the loveliest bowers ABDALLAH. 45 Lay strewed in robe of white, With countenance turned on the light, A female corpse he saw ; on high, Flaming and hissing through the sky, On a dark massive pillar reared, The orb of living fire appeared. Surrounded by such awful gloom, Like the lone lamp that lights the tomb Of mausoleum'd kings, that throws Its everlasting light, it rose; Or like the infant sun, which cast At random through the infinite waste Of night, created in his flight Heaven's fairest forms of laughing light. The silent train passed swiftly on, Mounting the ridgy heights of stone, That form Arabia's mural crown, From which proud Liberty looks down On groves, and streams, and plains, and towers, Ghttering with gold, and gemmed with flowers, And smiles to think the sacred spot Has never been a tyrant's lot. As up the steepy hills he climbed, Abdallah felt his soul sublimed : 46 ABDALLAH. The storm that raged did seem to give Part of its own prerogative To those who felt it; fierce and strong The rocks' rude pinnacle it swept ; And the first drops it strewed along Seemed burning tears by demons wept. At length the torrents poured ; the still Moss-bedded, crystal mountain-rill Swelled to a torrent, roared and dashed To meet the lightning as it flashed. Still did the hissing fire erect Its long and trembling conic crest ; Through rival elements, unchecked, Scattering its seeds that never rest. And still the Ghebers, for 'twas they Who trod this pathless mountain- way, Bearing the symbol, pure and bright, Of him who called the world from night, Moved on, and felt nor dread nor fear While God's vicegerent blazed so near. At length they reached a long dark dell Where heaven's reverberated swell Increased its horror, sheeted flame, Baring the clouds' dark bosoms, came ABDALLAH. 47 Shooting along the earth, and day, Following its instantaneous way, Displayed the flowers and almond-trees Shrinking beneath the sulphurous breeze. Each side the overhanging rocks Shook o'er the vale their blasted locks, That, dripping from the whelming showers, Shed fragrance through its lovely bowers, And, meeting, arched the narrow path, To shield it from the tempest's wrath. Midway between a brawling stream Rolled on in darkness, for the beam Of the warm sun could never fall, Save through one narrow interval, On its fair waters ; dashing now With loud disturbed, impetuous flow : Along its banks the Ghebers passed, Close sheltered from the howling blast, Till deep beneath the lofty mount They reached the gloomy caverned fount, Where, gushing from its granite bed, It first disclosed its limpid head. Lofty and dark, the pillared cave Stretched out its vast extent, and gave The features of one mighty grave. 48 ABDALLAH. Joining the grim mysterious throng, Al Meleck's son was borne along With freezing blood ; for this dark pile Had withered even a demon's smile. Each lofty column's base displayed A rattling skeleton, — arrayed In horrid files ; they faced the ray That gleamed upon these wrecks of clay Far from the dun interior, where Scarce moved the vapour-loaded air. The Ghebers now drew near, and all Fell prone before the flaming ball. Abdallah glided from the crowd, And, while their deep orisons flowed, Approached th' internal fire. There came A pure, intense amazing flame Up through the porous earth, and threw A strange, bright supernatural hue On every object. Rapt, entranced, Or dead, he saw, as round he glanced, A human form, his robe of white Shone brilliant in the awful light. ABDALLAH. 49 Reclined he lay, and on his head The tufted heron-plume was spread, Sparkling with jewels. Near him lay A glittering sword. The earthly ray That lit upon his face was hid By the full plume ; but if his lid Had slept in death, it had not been More moveless. O'er the spacious scene The Arab's wondering eyes were turned, From where th' aspiring flamen burned, To the cave's dark extremities, Where now he saw the Ghebers rise ; Who, taking from its seat the dead, Placed crowns of flowers upon its head, And bound it to a pillar ; then They banished silence, and again Knelt down, and prayed aloud to God, That he would bless them ; — even the rod He had chastised them with should be Taken as a blessing ; — fervently, With stricken hearts, they called on heaven To be, in its good time, forgiven. Then they drew near the fiery fount And gave one universal shout, That almost shook the pillared mount, Which mimic echo bore about, E 50 ABDALLAH, Reverberating long and loud, As if those figures of the tomb Had from their columns joined the crowd To burst with noise the lofty dome. Abdallah started, — and the glance Of hundreds caught his countenance ! Their first wild feeling was as when The fierce simoom, o'er flocks and men Scattering destruction, sweeps the plain ! A dread intensity of pain ! A stranger, then, had seen the flame They deemed so holy, that its name Might not be to unholy ear Conveyed by Mithra's worshipper. 'Twas death ! — their glittering sabres flew Forth from their scabbards, to imbrue Their points in sacrilegious blood ; They rushed towards him, — but there stood The heron-plumed Chief; his eye Flashed like heaven's fire, and, raising high His thundering voice, he bade them stand, Clenching his sabre in his hand. " Ghebers! are ye then the murderous brood Your foes proclaim ye ? Man's frail blood, like water, on the thirsty plain, If spilt, can ne'er be seized again. ABDALLAH. 51 Ponder, be just, ere you let fall The blow, which passed, there's no recall." — " Stranger, step forth, thy purpose tell, If just, we harm thee not, but hell, With all its torments, light on thee If thy design be perfidy ! " The Arab, with Herculean arm His well-tried dagger grasping firm, Told them his tale, and all the pride And consciousness of truth defied Gainsaying in his eye. There ran, While yet he spake, from man to man, A fierce inexplicable glow That lit up every sullen brow With joy : as when the golden sun Lets down its floods of light upon The laughing earth, each sunny spot Deems his first smile its joyous lot. So swift the rapid ray has passed, None know who meets his glory last. Thus ran the lightning flame through those Who drank Abdallah's words : the elose Of his brief story heard the sound Of wild applause re-echoed round ; E 2 52 ABDALLAH. Till towering high above the rest The chieftain reared his jewelled crest r And waved his cimetar. " Thou earth,'* He said, " and ye pure fires, whose birth None save the holy Godhead saw — - Hear my firm vow, with holy awe I thus invoke you; — 'tis the hour When other mortals feel the power Of genial sleep, but, oh ! we spurn Life's soft unhallowed joys, and turn Night to its holiest purpose ; now Hurl me to death's dark caves, below The caverned world, if morning's eye Meet not our standard floating high O'er these free rocks ! Al Meleck's son Is pure and spotless still, and one Who deems it glorious fate to bleed When his dear country claims the deed." " He does! he does!" Abdallah cried, " Though it be by a stranger's side! Abdallah's sword, ye well may count, While the warm tide from life's full fount ABDALLAH. 53 Flows on, among those thirsting blades That burn to free her holy shades, And groves and mountains from the ban Of thraldom to our fellow man !" " Abdallah," said the Chief, " thy sire Has bent before the holy fire — Emblem of God! — and wilt not thou Follow his spirit's track? Even now The hallowed flame burns pure and bright In Tayef's walls, and by its light Zerdusht's celestial laws are read, Which peace and truth inspire, and spread Wide as the universal flame, The holiest love for freedom's name." " My father, Chief?" " Even so, my son; But still the task is but begun, Till prone before this sacred glow His patriot son shall bend as low — We haste to meet him — and 'twere well The opening of my tale should tell Thy renovation— shall it be?" 54 ABDALLAH. " Ye haste to meet him? Where is he? Where is my father ? — Let me fly To read my destiny in his eye ! I was defeated ! — fled !— but still He may forgive me." " Oh, he will, Thou brave young spirit : on this height That ne'er has shrunk beneath the blight Of tyranny, by morning's glance Thou shalt behold his countenance. The moment ere you came, his feet Had left the cavern. — Far more sweet He deems the task to tread these rocks When raves the storm through his grey locks, To rouse to combat all their train For vengeance on the desert plain, Than to repose on couch of gold, The hated price of freedom sold." " My father here? Your faith is strange, Unknown and dark to me. To change Is not my manner — but the war Ye speak of, by the sacred star That smiles on Tayef, shall behold Me in its foremost ranks. The old, ABDALLAH, 55 The full of days, should now no more Drag their weak limbs through fields of gore. — Tis true Mohammed conquered, yet Our sun of glory is not set — My sabre still can flash where'er There's ought to win or ought to fear, And my loved sire shall ne'er expose His hoary head to warring foes, Till, dashed to earth in some rude strife, Some foeman's sword shall drink my life." No more was said; the Gheber band, Their rites unfinished left, did stand In silence till the dawn's first ray Peeped through the cave, and then their way Up the steep rocks, where many a brook Brawled through its pebbled bed, they took. Abdallah by the chieftain's side Went on conversing. Far and wide The breezes on their morning wings Bore health and fragrance, for the springs Of every odour had been crushed By the nighf s storm — each stream that gushed Forth from the rock, bore on its breast Some silken bud that once the nest 56 ABDALLAH, Of infant gales had been. The sky Stretched out its wild variety Of clouds and azure. Streaks of gold Shot up the flaming east, the cold Translucent silver of the clouds, Morn's airy pinnace' outstretched shrouds, Tinging with purple. From the trees That now were waving in the breeze, Brilliant with watery gems, was heard The feathery people. Then appeared, Sweeping the mountain's farthest verge, A martial groupe that seemed t' emerge, So swift they darted o'er the height, From the horizon's fields of light. 'Twas brave Al Meleck's band! — They flew Down the bright slopes, where glittering dew Hung like a pearl on every blade, With which the morning zephyrs played, As with light wing they frolicked on To hail the bright creative sun. Abdallah's piercing eye soon found His father's form, and with a bound Light as the antelope's, he met His loved embrace — his cheeks were wet With warm unwonted tears, his breast Swelled with emotion as he pressed ABD ALLAH. 57 His father to his heart ; — 'tis then, When the warm heart o'erflows, that men Might fearless lay their bosoms bare For God to see his image there ! .- The Arabs spake not — all the chords Of being trembled deep, but words Came not, the eye's expressive glance Grave the heart's language utterance. There seemed no need of speech, the soul Intuitively caught the whole. And when words came, their broken train Burst from the free spontaneous brain In rapid flow. Abdallah told His simple tale, in honour's mould Embodied ; words of grief and shame Crept o'er his tongue like links of flame, As with arms crossed and downcast eye. He told the Prophet's victory — His own defeat — his desperate vow — His altered feelings — and the flow Of bounteous hospitality, That, like the world-surroundinof sea, Bore up all barks alike, which gave Mohammed's spirit with the brave 58 ABDALLAH. A passport to their hearts, — the fair, The lovely flower that flourished there Beneath his eye, — the link that tied Their youthful hearts, and side by side Her image placed, howe'er might press The world between, and happiness. The father listened, while his child Poured forth in accents rapt and wild His mingled tale of war and love, And grief, and impulse from above ; And thus, as through the balmy groves That waved their green heads in the sun, And echoed to the turtles' loves, He answered as they journeyed on. END OF CANTO THE SECOND. ABDALLAH CANTO THE THIRD. " Yield not to cankering grief, nor deem The tree that bends before the blast Unrooted, though it so may seem, 'Twill flourish when the storm has past. And man must bow when destiny Bids him be low; we cannot be The things we would : 'tis wise to ply Right on before the gale, nor sigh That there are shores, on either side The rapid onward foaming tide, We fain would visit. 'Tis the track Marked out by fate we move in still, And though our eyes look lingering back, Nature resists our wayward will. 60 ABDALLAH. But who would murmur ? for the chain Of being is not linked in vain ; For though the Architect of things Small particles of glory flings Into man's soul; though, throned in light, He join to moments fair and bright Proportionate sorrow, lest the flow Of bliss unmixed should here below Fasten the soul ; yet he has given One source of joy, — the hope of heaven ! And this one hope, diversified Ten thousand ways, doth still abide Through every ill, through every fall Of life, within the breast of all. And 'tis but this that through the breast Can comfort shed, for 'tis confest That things of earth, though ne'er so high They may be prized by worldling's eye, Are not for aye, nor can they give Content, the blest prerogative Of virtue to bestow. Oh, then, Enthrone thy fortitude again ; To-morrow's sun may see our foe Bend beneath fortune's wheel as low To-day's has us. — No certain date Can man assign to adverse fate ABDALLAH. 61 Or good ; but as along we stray The path of life, whate'er our way Presents of pleasure, 'twere not wise To spurn it ; but if ill arise, Unmurmuring we should bear its smart, — Impatience points misfortune's dart." " I grieve no more !" the youth replied, " Henceforth let vengeance be my guide ! But such as virtue claims. To me It seems as natural to be free As 'tis to breathe the liquid sky, That urges cool invisible by Pregnant with life ! Yet would I not Gain liberty by stealth and blot Its sun-bright standard with a crime Would crimson it to after time ! But, sire, yon Chief who upwards springs, As if borne forward by the wings Of the wild camel-bird,* expressed Something that rankles in my breast, And will have utterance, though my tongue Burn as it frames the tale of wrong. He said, — I would not have them hear Our converse, — but they are not near, * The ostrich. 62 ABDALLAH. And I will tell it, — that before Their element, and to adore Its essence, you had bowed, — but I Could not believe so foul a lie, Though I was silenced, for the creed Our sires believed in does not need Addition, and my heart would burst Rather than wander from the first Best worship it has known, whose words I lisped in childhood, while the chords Of this impetuous heart did move, Big- with the thoughts it sent above. But wherefore are you here, and why Usurps such fire your aged eye ? My mother was not heard, or now You had not felt these breezes blow." " The morn that saw thy flight, my son, I mounted, as I oft had done, My castle's loftiest tower, to see If the long plain held aught of thee, Or thine — thou know'st it was the day Thou named'st, when thou went'st away, As that in which thy bounding steed Should prance beneath the light jereed, ABDALLAH. 63 'Stead of the mighty spear, if fate Opposed not. It was growing late, And I had mounted oft, and seen The sportive antelopes between The sand-hills browsing, or in play Chasing each other. All the day I passed in patience, but the hum Of beetles told me night was come Ere I had marked it, for I would Have had it longer, and I stood Watching the stretching shadows, till Night closed upon the farthest hill That bounded the horizon, yet I stayed, for though the sun had set, The silent, silver-tinging moon Rose with a majesty, that soon' Showered round a second day, imparting Life to a thousand shapes, that, darting Along the desert's margin, seemed Thy train, and oft their sabres gleamed, Or seemed to gleam, beneath the ray That slumbered on the desert way ! The breezes as they winged along Bore in their flight the bulbul's song, 64 ABDALLAH. And stopped as they came near, to give The notes so sweet, so fugitive, They'd pilfered in their way, to us Who wished them ever loaded thus ! But music, though it soothe the soul, Yet cannot banish thought — there stole Forth many an anxious look and sigh, That shook the breast and dimmed the eye, And word, — for now thy mother stood Beside me, and my thoughtful mood Increased by tender questioning, And circumstance recalled, that bring Bitter reflections. Far below, Loud, fierce, reverberating, slow Rose the hysena's howl; my heart Throbbed through my bosom, and the start Of anguish tingling through my frame, Raised in thy mother's breast the same. We feared for thee ; the roar renewed Rent the lone ear of solitude, And in their distant coverts roused The glen's fell citizens, for, housed In caverns deep by day, they rise And roam beneath the midnight skies. ABDALLAH. G5 We listened, and the clattering sound Of horses on the echoing ground Was heard — 'twas thine we did not doubt ; The gates were raised, we all rushed out To meet thee — but I need not tell Our disappointment — what befell I heard and mourned — and I could guess The reason of thy waywardness In not returning ; so we bore Our sorrow as we could, nor more Expected thy return. Despair, We greatly feared, had driven thee where We never more thy griefs might share." Al Meleck's heart, though sapped and shook By years, his frame but ill could brook Mohammed's triumph; yet 'twas not His ravished wealth, his honour's blot, Which on that evening dimmed his eye, And forced the long-drawn bitter sigh That shook his breast — " thy loss, my son, Came like the simoom 'lighting on Some healthful plant, it withering passed, Breathed on our hopes, and quenched the last — No, not the last! — for vengeance still Was mine, and every burning thrill 66 ABDALLAH. Which, in the holiday of life, Passion had wakened wild and rife In my young heart, came crowding back Through the cold, hoary, frozen track Of years — yes, all my primitive fire Flashed with the rooted deep desire Of vengeance through my eyes, and gave The prospect of a glorious grave, If nothing more. I did not stay Parleying and reasoning, but away Flew on Revenge's wing, to raise One daring, universal blaze Of war, that on th' impostor's head Should burst, as from the lurid sky The scathing bolt, when fiery red, It hissing leaves its seat on high. I cared not who men worshipped, so Their arms could deal the deadly blow, Zohail* or Mithraf — 'twas not then The time to sift the faiths of men. The Ghebers were Mohammed's foes, My friends in consequence ; and those Who, when fair human nature bleeds, Can pause to weigh the worth of creeds, The planet Saturn. t The sun. ABDALLAH. 67 Apportion out how oft and how Prayers shall ascend from hearts below, Have my worst curses! Heaven will grant The worthy all the good they want — The worthless punish — when or where To none is known. To act, to dare, Be what thy virtue bids thee now — To shrink from vice as hell — to bow To none but God, and if frail clay Bid the reverse, to disobey — This is thy duty, and if this To follow lead to endless bliss, 'Tis well. If not — but man should bend, Not question what the Gods intend ! " The Ghebers mark us. See, yon height Lifts up thy much-loved home to sight ; That, that is Tayef ! Groves and bowers Breathe incense, and the glittering flowers Put on their loveliest smiles to greet With glory thy returning feet V' And it was Tayef — and the smiles Of home have many thousand wiles That words can ne'er embody — there Dwell all the joys of everywhere! f 2 (J8 ABDALLAH. The trees, the mossy banks whereon We loved to sit, do every one Claim their particular greeting, when We view the hallowed spot again After long absence. Even the brook, The ever-flowing waters look A seeming welcome. — Oh! this life Has few such moments, as the strife Of feelings then creates. 'Tis sweet Even to regret them, and they fleet So swiftly by, that in the mind Nought, save regret, is left behind. The castle's gray and airy towers Rose high amidst green clustering bowers, That on the precipice's brow Basked in the day-spring's orient glow, And flung their breathing sweets below. The crowds that pressed its battlements, The curling smoke from thick-strewn tents, Which, like the eagles' dwellings hung The huge rough crags and trees among, The lances gleaming, and the hum Of distant multitudes that come Thick on his eager ear, convey The image of the future fray; ABDALLAH. 69 The clash of arms, the rushing cry Of Home, Friends, Country, Victory! But these soon fled, one feeling swept Away their traces, and he wept — Wept tears of joy — and hurrying through The thronging crowd, that bending low Paid their unnoticed homage, found His mother. Quickly gathered round. Distinction lost, the happy, proud, Domestic circle — no one bowed To greet his coming, but each eye Was moist with joy; the buoyancy Of generous feeling gave to each The boldness of familiar speech. They questioned of his stay, and where, And how prolonged; and of the share Which each bore in the common grief, Spoke frequently. The sweet relief Of tears, too, mingled with the swell Of happy breasts that could not tell Their joy. Abdallah felt for all, And round the joyous busy hall Bounded with smiling eyes, to give The purest bliss for which we live. 70 ABDALLAH. The Ghebers, with their fiery shrine, So closely firm can hate combine Discordant faiths — around the hearth Pressed to enjoy the cheering mirth Of ancient foes ; and, while without The braying horn, the warlike shout, The neighing coursers, and the din Of arms commingling, to begin The carnage seemed, in converse mild Of ancient wisdom, they beguiled The lapsing hours. The Prophet- King, Whom barbarous nations wondering Saw on his fiery bed repose Soft as on roses, while his foes Fell at his feet, — inspired the strain Enraptured of the Gheber train. Abdallah heard, and, mild and good On other subjects, felt his blood Boil high with rage at what he deemed Mere blasphemy — his sabre gleamed Half-drawn, — but all the gentleness With which the Gods had deigned to bless His spirit interposed. The day Insensibly had stolen away — ABDALLAH. 7 J And it was evening — forth he stole To calm the tempest of his soul In the cool whispering breeze that played Its gambols in the forest shade. The air's calm influence, the look Of music in the rippling brook, The nightingale's first notes, which flow Mellifluously sweet and slow, The soft light stealing from above — All, all conspired to wake the love That slumbered in his soul. He stood, And, in that listless dreaming mood Which lovers cherish, throwing by All faculties but memory, Recalled those dazzling hopes that rose At sight of her who, mid his foes, Was like the crystal gushing spring, To one who lost and wandering In the wide waste, that rises, — when He scarcely hoped to view again The dear remembered scene, which now Stretched out its emerald breast below. Remembrance bright envisioned came, Arraying Leilah's beauteous frame 72 ABDALLAH. In tenfold beauty ; but along A heartless, dark, and withering throng Of doubts came also. Hope afar Beamed dimly, like a setting star Seen through the tenuous clouds that fly Along the deep blue evening sky. Or like the flitting prey that moves Light-footed through the twilight groves Before the half-awakened eye Of the grim lion rousing nigh. In every age where'er the flower Of love has bloomed, war's cursed power, With all the gloomy brood that wait On that fell messenger of Fate, Have come to blight it — but they have Ended their empire when the grave Closed on their victims ; all beyond Was fair and sunny as the fond Enraptured mind which, glowing free In buoyant youth, luxuriantly Could picture. Deep-bred worldly hate, Content in life's brief hour to sate Its fierce revenge, its course suspends When the frail being that wakes it ends. ABDALLAH. 73 Not so fanaticism rears The piles of wreck, of blood, and tears. Unholy, that around her rise. Where Echo, wakened by the sighs Of hopeless suffering", lengthens round The deep reiterated sound. She bounds beyond the grave, pursues The fugitive spirit, and imbrues, As on Destruction's stream she stands. In life's last pulse her horrid hands. Her power Abdallah felt ; his mind Leaned from its base, as if the wind Winch o'er his frame in whisperings went Had waked some struggling storm, that pent Deep latent in his soul had lain. To burst, when roused, his frenzied brain. He thought of Leilah, — of the heaven Her sire imagined, — love had striven In vain to taint the living spring Of faith within his soul, or fling One doubt across the purer sky That arched it like a canopy. He saw her fair, — but saw that Death Had breathed upon her form his breath! 74 ABDALLAH. Saw, while hell's torrent foamed between, Her image bound life's every scene, Beauty's bright spirit from her eyes Breathing celestial harmonies, As light springs through the sapphire skies ! But in their rays the curse of God Revelled as in its own abode, And withered every soul that came Beneath their soft unhallowed flame ! Had some pure essence from on high, That could have read the heart, been nigh While this young child of Faith and Love Gave up to each his heart a prey Alternately, — the net that, wove By passion, bound him, far away Struggling to cast, — he would have felt His bright ethereal essence melt With pity, at a sight so fell As that heart-locked domestic hell Which burns with unappeased glow Even in the calmest spot below. But in the lap of peace he could not lie, For Vengeance tossed her flaming brand on high Clothed in Religion's form, with humble look, Around her venomed influence she shook, ABDALLAH. 75 Disguising' every dire command she gave In duty's shape, and whispering to the brave, " Your foes exterminate, or be destroyed!" Such terms has Hate in every age employed. Who could refuse to fight, or dare to fly, When led by Faith, that daughter of the sky? What though those tribes adored the stars, the fire ? False faith can equal rage with true inspire. Revenge is still the same if it infest A Sabsean Aj"ab, or a Christian's breast. The furious zeal which fired Abdallah's mind Was quite as wild, uncertain, undefined, As that which raised, in after-time, the war In Syria for the holy sepulchre. Forth o'er the sunny land the blast had ran, Gathered each desert horde and mountain clan ; And loud from every lip arose the cry, " Fate wills the fight, with God is victory!" Fair Tayef ne'er had seen her highlands prest By crowds so vast as on their emerald breast Now gleamed in war's habiliments, and gave The nation's picture, — faithful, bright, and brave ! The sun was up, the warriors' every limb, — Light as the burning beams that sprang from him, — Quivered with hope ; each heart to heaven addressed For victory a prayer ; and quenched the rest 76 ABDALLAH. Of those bold wishes which, in souls like theirs, Swell their fierce hopes, and taint their holiest prayers. Through the high gate Abdallah's courser bounds, Eyes the bright crowd, and drinks the welcome sounds Which burst at sight of him whose look gave rise To hopes intense, and nameless ecstasies. Armed, at his side, his hoary sire came on, " Pleased that his age was honoured in his son ;" Joy's smiling beams his brimming eyes display, But dim their brightness, powerless their ray, As the cold sunshine of a winter's day. The Ghebers, with their saffron belts, were there, But viewed, received with cold suspicious air. Their faith not far dissimilar, their dress, Their look, gave rise to this unmanliness, — So true it is that men, by birth the same, For straws are foes, and murder for a name. Loud, as the men first strike the sable tents, The burst of grief flies o'er the battlements; Mothers look down in deep heart-springing woe On those they nursed, and bless them as they go I Wives rush to take a parting look of those They love, and curse their fierce fanatic foes ; Nor e'er reflect that they too claim a tear, Have homes as tender, and are loved as dear. ABDALLAH. 77 Now from the hills the thronging tribes did pour, Darkening the plain, as on some level shore The mountain- waves rush in, the furious wind Raising the roaring element behind. The murmur, too, that o'er the silent earth Increasing crept, to that which owes its birth To shivering breaking waves, was liker far Than to the mere outsetting scene of war. Elate in strength along the glowing plain The proud steeds dashed impatient of the rein, The long lance quivering o'er their golden mane ; And they who sat on them in sanguine youth, Careless, and vain, and brave, might wake the ruth Of Slaughter's self, could Pity in the fiend One holy spot of calm possession find. But, no! — War's impious and Moloch jaws Must still have blood! — Its food the demon draws From human misery, and there are those Who on the deepening blackening tide of woes It vomits forth, delight to sport, and claim For their vile deeds the trumpetings of Fame ; And would be great, forsooth, because on them Fortune, perhaps, has placed her sparkling gem, Which on the dunghill or the rose-bed thrown Adds nothing to the sweetness of the one, 78 ABDALLAH. Nor from the other takes its filth, but stands Distinct, as placed by its bestower's hands. But minds there are who, in their feebleness And poverty of thought, must downwards press Upon the sightless multitude for life, For bliss, and fame ; to them the senseless strife Of pigmy intellects, the gross machines Who, on the vulgar blood-besprinkled scenes Of carnage, wear man's semblances, gives power That shoots, and blooms, and withers in an hour ! And this is greatness I and its germs are cast Wide o'er the cheated world. In ages past, Nursed with the blood of millions, grew the plant, Of earth the first and worst inhabitant ! And time hath not subdued it ; still its blooms Its head amid the clouds, while graves and tombs Conceal its roots, the deadly juice supply By which it lives. Apart, from human eye Secluded, dwell those spirits who on earth Live for themselves, nor care who marks their worth Men see them not, or, seeing, view with fear Beings of other mould who linger here, But seem too glorious for this earthly sphere. ABDALLAH. 79 All day they journeyed on, till, in the west, Nearing his gold and sapphire tent, to rest Leaned nodding from the sky the flaming sun. Forth from the deepening azure, one by one, Stole the faint stars, and, as his slumbers grew Deep and more deep, more fearlessly they threw Around their brightness of intenser hue ; 'Till all the endless way of heaven grew bright With countless lamps of everlasting light. Thought gathers in that hour a sweeter zest As forth from its terrestrial sleeping nest Light unperceived it steals; and as it mounts, Beamings impalpable from million foimts, With purifying influence, compress Its creatures strange to shapes of loveliness. The army stopped, where, 'mid the sand-hills, rise The clustering date-trees, rustling to the sighs Of sultry flagging winds, that faint and die As toward the leaves with weary wings they fly. Awhile throughout the sable crested camp Ascended prayers, was seen the fitful lamp, Was heard the whispered greeting, the soft tread On yielding sand. Anon, and all was dead ; 80 ABDALLAH. Buried in visioning sleep. Beneath that sky Existed then but one unsleeping eye, And 'twas Abdallah's,— so he deemed at least,— With hope and fear heaved one unsleeping breast. He girded on his sabre, softly passed The date-tree grove, and camp, and o'er the waste Pursued with breathless earnestness the path Marked with the curses of a father's wrath, — He sped to Mecca ! halloived by the breath , Of one too fair for iron-hearted death To breathe upon unwarned. One backward look His strong unthinking passion could not brook, Or he had seen his steps pursued by whom He hated not nor feared, but of whose doom He had been reckless on that troubled night, When he'd have fain been hidden from the sight Of earth and heaven ! But while they sweep along, Turn we to Mecca's maid the wandering song; Watch we her passionate breathings as they rise ; The dark, dark lustre of her Houri's eyes, Dimming or brightening as of love the flame In gloom or lightness o'er her senses came. Deep into her retentive soul had passed His image ; twined with every fibre fast ABDALLAH. $[ Of the warm heart it grew, — a second life Still dearer than the first it seemed, and rife With pleasure. From the holy crowd withdrawn That thronged her sire's, from eve till pearly dawn Sprang up the laughing east, she wandered lone, Imperturbably sad, and late had grown Impatient of society. The hours Devotion claimed she passed amid the bowers Of incense-breathing shrubs, where oft the dove Coo'd to the rising moon her faithful love ; And where, when every other note was mute, The bulbul, leader of the choral suite Of night, gave Echo such a melting strain To whisper to the breezes on the plain, From her lone hiding-place, that in despair She overturned her shell, — the musicked air Breathed over its mute round, no answer came To the impassioned songster, yet the same Exhaustless fount of music, flowing free, Melted on night's cold ear incessantly. And, to this bower, on that delicious night, Deep-breathing, clad in Asia's vesture light. G 82 ABDALLAH. Leilah had stolen. No eye, she deemed, would pry Upon her love-sick musing privacy, — And so threw off her robe, for still the glow Of the warm turbulent sun did float below, Piercing through every vein, though he had fled For many an hour the sky. No shapeless dread Ruffled her soul, but in her sapphire eye Danced rays of love and nameless ecstasy. The bower looked toward the south, its couch, Sinking and swelling to the softest touch, Was made of rose and jasmine leaves; their scent Gave to the wooing wind, whose blandishment They felt, a sweet and harmonizing power That thrilled the lulled frame through every pore. Leilah now sat on it: — the moon-beam fell Full on her shape of beauty, and the swell And sinking of her bosom in the ray Moved as to music. Wild her thoughts did stray While on the pale moon gazing :— where was he Who oft had marked that planet, fervently, Outstretch her silver wings ? whose very soul Seemed bounding through her light beyond the goal Of mere mortality: — the springs of sense Throbbed on tumultuously in evidence ABDALLAH. 83 Of warmest love. She looked upon the sky Till from the prospect grew satiety ; Then on the leafy couch, where every bud Poured out its separate sweet, till in a flood Of perfume drowned it mingled with the rest, Her lovely head she laid; as in their nest Cayster's swans repose, against its side Pressing their snowy necks, at eventide. Her waking dreams indulging, a soft tread Ruffled night's stillness ; all her visions fled. And trembling in the leaves she hid her head, — Listened, — 'twas but the night-wind moaning through Th' acacia's boughs, that, moving to and fro, Sounded so strange; — again! — and nearer still! — Her heart, against the palpitating hill Of snow that covered it, did wildly beat With fear, and, madly starting from her seat, She would have fled, but 'twas Abdallah's face That met her eye ! At night, in such a place, — How had he come ? — She knew not ; her alarms Were hushed to silence in his eager arms. " My Leilah," he began, " it boots not now To reason wherefore ;• war has bid to flow G 2 84 ABDALLAH. Thy people's blood and mine ; but canst thou be Content where I am deemed an enemy To dwell? Canst thou with patience hear my name Coupled with hate, and infamy, and shame, As thou must do if here? — Reproach me not My faith, my name, my country,— 'tis my lot To credit, — thou pursue thy own, — and bleed, Nay, perish, for my brave forefathers' creed! But as heaven's noon-day tyrant fires the sands Beyond endurance, so the subtle brands Of love have fed upon my inmost soul Till it itself is fire ! The strong control Of faith exists no more, — thy eye must beam Delight upon me. Not the joyous dream Of bliss in after-life, though rapt it come Shedding its odours o'er the opening tomb, Can compensate for thee: — Here on my breast Thy beauteous head must nightly sink to rest ! I tell thee I have stemmed the tide of love Till it has overwhelmed me ; — from above Strength came, but it has withered, and I bow To take my doom from thy soft bidding now!" " Abdallah! since the thunder-shrouded night On which I saw thee last, the mouldering blight ABDALLAH. 85 Of grief upon my ardent soul has hung, Lurked in my breast, and saddened on my tongue. — But why speak'st thou of blood? no enemy Of sire, or land, or faith can Leilah see, Brave as thou art, and faithful, e'er in thee ! Nay, canst thou not, Abdallah, on this spot, All other lands, all other friends forgot, Erect thy happy home ? Mohammed loves And cherishes thy name ; and, as two doves That nestle on one bough, the bliss of life We here may share together. Free from strife The gentle current of our days would flow To the last verge of being, and the blow That severed us from earth should lightly come, And rather bend than crush us to the tomb ! " " Oh, but for one deep thought, that lights, that lives Throned in my spirit's troubled shrine, and gives My being one firm tone, I could have hurled Defiance at mankind, — nay, all the world Kept at my sabre's point at bay, — but now It may not happen thus, and I must bow To woo thee, 'neath this all-enshrouding night, To pour life's balm into my soul by flight. To-morrow, Leilah, death's cold fangs may press To quietness the springing ferventness 86 ABDALLAH. That heaves this bosom now, may dim the eye That now receives the gush of ecstasy Which streams from thine, may all the fervid dreams Of love and youth disperse, — yet, as the beams Of heaven's fair mistress yonder now do not, To-morrow night's eclipse permit to blot Their present brightness, — so my love would live Even on death's giddy verge, — prerogative Of daring souls ! — but, Leilah, all the jar, The carnage-breathing voice, and rout of war, Burst on these walls with morn: thy tender form Must not abide the rushing of the storm. I could not combat else, for every dart That left my bow would seem to pierce thy heart. My arm would falter in the fight, my eye See in each foe its beauteous mistress die ! Then fly with me ; my love shall round thee spread A pierceless canopy, — thy lovely head On safety's tranquillizing breast shall lie ; Thy heart shall body forth, and wing on high Love's warm deep orisons : — the peaceful bower Lies distant; haste, rise, lo! the midnight hour Has flown already by ! " In Leilah's breast There lurked a treacherous, hidden, silent guest, ABDALLAH. 87 That listened not displeased. No earthly ear, Save that 'twas meant for, then was listening near, She thought, to catch the warm confession glowing As from her lips it came impassioned, flowing Like spheral music on the heart that quaffed As lulling nectar the forbidden draught. But that fair night had charms for other mood Than love : its lone, unwhispering solitude, Meet wandering time for holiness, had led Young Omar forth, who, with unconscious tread, The leafy bower approached. Before him lay, And oft he paused to look at it, the gray, The sleeping landscape. Man and beast had crept To their oblivious couch ; he too had slept Had not to heaven his daring spirit soared, Hovering with seraph-eye o'er things explored Till then by nothing human. Taking wing From those celestial heights, and gathering Sublimity from thence, from sphere to sphere Tumbling through ether, on his burning ear Caught sounds and airs of Paradise, that fell Like ocean's breathings through his wreathed shell. He walked beneath the lofty pillared shade Of tufted palms, whose airy branches made, 88 . ABDALLAH. O'erhead, impervious arches ; through the mass Wandered no ray ; but on the waving grass That fringed the grove the moon her brightness shed As she had loved the spot, and burnished Her arching diamond-tipped horn that night That it might cast than wont a purer light. His aspirations, heavenward climbing, threw A curtain o'er his vision, and he drew In moody meditation near the spot Where sat the loving pair, but saw them not Till fell upon his ear these melting words, " I love, — I live for thee!" The trembling chords Of feeling took the sounds, and to his heart Pierced their dread import like a burning dart. Firm to the spot transfixed, as her of yore Turned to a pillar on the dead sea shore For looking back on home, he stood and listened; His heart beat furiously, his dark eyes glistened Like the fell tiger's, when from out his lair He trembles ere he springs. Th' unconscious fair Proceeded loud and carelessly, as they Were the sole two on earth. " Away, away ABDALLAH. 89 Dark, dreadful creed ! — I love, — I live for thee ! My sire has spoke in vain, — it cannot be, — We were made for each other, and the gods — I rave! — the Being from those blest abodes That glitter in yon sky has willed it thus ; And we will fly together: if for us The date-tree shed its fruit, th' acacia wave Her saffron-head, the limpid current lave Our gentle limbs ; 'tis plain that we are given To live, to love, by all-indulging heaven ! — I fly with thee!" " Die first!" was muttered forth, " Die, ere thou blot thy father's stainless worth By treachery so foul!" And in her breast Deep sank the poniard : o'er her snowy vest Trickled the red warm blood, her lover's hand Deep-staining. Had the forked ignited brand Of Jove, wide launching from the gloomy heaven, Pierced through his wildly throbbing breast, and riven Its crumbling fibres, through Abdallah's frame There had not shot a more devouring flame. 90 ABDALLAH. Omar stood full before him, — Leilah fell Back in his arms as dead, the gentle swell Of the empurpled bosom solely giving Unquestioned argument the heart was living. With one firm hand he held her to his side In misery's worst extreme ; his tongue denied To utter his heart's curse. Th' assassin stood As if to mark the ebbing of that blood Whose every drop, like fire upon his soul, Fell scorching. He had reached the fated goal Of all life's pleasure, and he would not fly As one who husbands breath, and fears to die. He held the deep-stained dagger, on his foe Ready to plunge, but ere the fatal blow- He would enjoy revenge. " Thy leman, see, Arab, no longer loves thee ! If from me She knew to stray, this hand has known to give Death to her passion! — and that thou dost live Thank my revenge : I would not have thee die Ere thy ear revel on her latest sigh ! Look at her, Chief, she knows thee not ! as well Might she repose on Eblis' arm in hell! — But I bar out the moon-beam, — let it play On her lascivious cheek ; 'tis fit so gay, ABDALLAH. 91 So warm a damsel's spirit should take flight Beneath yon lamp of heaven's all- chastening 'light, For it wants purifying ! " " Fiend of hell! Thy dastard arm has reached its aim too well," Replied Abdallah. — " Leilab, he thou there, An instant I resign to heaven's care Thy lovely spirit. — Now, thou coward slave, Take from my hand thy passage to the grave ! " And out his sabre flashed; and Omar stood Burning to quench his anger in his blood. Fierce hate on either side its lava-springs Threw o'er the heart; and jealousy her stings Fretting and writhing round it, gave a power Seldom before exerted. 'Twas the hour When few are not asleep ; for midnight then Had passed, and stampt her lulling seal on men. But, in the Prophet's palace, still there were Those who entreated heaven in lengthened prayer. They felt disturbed their orisons, — the sound Of clashing weapons loudly echoed round. They left their carpets, snatched their arms, and came Tossing between the trees their torches' flame ; 92 ABDALLAH. Approached the bower, the infidel beheld, Known by his plume, who now in fury held Prostrate on earth his foe with arm upraised Ready to search his heart. The torches blazed, The crowd rushed in, the fight unequal grew, " The Chief retreated, but retreating slew," Rushed t'ward the bower to seize his murdered fair And bear her from the fray ; but gleaming there Torches and swords received him ; not one glance Could reach, through thronging foes, her countenance. He heard her speak, he heard her call his name, — The sounds shot through his ears like darts of flame. In vain his sabre scattered death around, Foes sprang like wizards from the teeming ground ; And he was growing faint, and Leilah's cries Now died upon the distance. O'er his eyes Floated a misty darkness, nearing death Already seemed to thicken in his breath ; When something like a whirlwind through the crowd Opened a long wide vista. Shouting loud In rushed a warrior stern, whose paly lance, On whose unstained point the moon-beams dance ; — The frighted Moslems fly. Abdallah sees The Gheber chief, whose strange appearance frees ABDALLAH. 93 His body from its toils, but from his mind No force could break what linked it still behind. Straight through the panicked throng their sabres made A bloody outlet, and the hanging shade Of wide o'er arching palms concealed their flight. But who can tell what misery that night Rankled beneath the calm unruffled brow Of Mecca's Prophet ? What if outward show Of grief was wanting? it was burning where A father must be sensitive : the air, The voice, the outward carriage may bespeak The heart as unperturbed as the cheek ; For genius would be callous, if it could, And stagnate to a pond the flowing blood That speaks its link with earth ; — yet man must feel His nature's summonses, — he cannot steel His bosom if he would ; for, low or high, Grief will devour the heart or dim the eye. When first some wan disciple ventured near His sacred person, and with holy fear The horrid deed narrated, he beheld His grandeur fading from him, unrepelled Instinctive horror crept through all his veins, And scarce his voice its wonted force retains. He hurries to his child, and o'er her face Bends in intensest sorrow; every trace 94 ABDALLAH. Of power and majesty had left his eye, And much it cost him to preserve it dry. He could not speak before his people, so He nodded to retire, and, pensive slow, The faithful left the presence. Then, oh, then Did he assert his claim to rank with men. Tears dimmed his eyes, — upon his aged breast He pillowed that young head he oft had prest With a proud father's hand: he would believe Life in that ebbing fount might find reprieve From that high heaven through life by him adored, But ne'er with such deep earnestness implored. But soon he felt it vain, and never yet Did the deserted state of man beget Such sorrow in his soul. " My child, my child! Why swims thy eye so languidly — so wild Why rolls it now? — It is thy father, girl, That breathes upon thy face — the giddy whirl Of frenzy works upon my brain ! — oh, speak, Who murdered thee, my daughter? Who could wreak Such dreadful vengence on a form like this, Breathing young joy, and harmony, and bliss? ABDALLAH. 95 Speak, child! — canst thou not speak? — oh! her wild eye Will beam no more — 'tis glazing rapidly ! Oh God! her heart is still!" And it was still For ever; passion struggling now with will At length bore off the victory — on earth The Prophet fell : he had not from his birth Nourished with equal ferventness of love Another image — had not interwove Among his heart-chords, source and seat of woes ! One of those slips of being which arose From his existence, as the one that now Lay like a blood-besprinkled shape of snow, Freezing his soul. The hand that thus had laid In dust the Prophet's head, had erst in aid Of his bold projects dipt itself in crime, In blood, in death ! and was in aftertime To wield the mystic sceptre-wand which grew Out of that trunk whose sapling now it slew. But unsuspected — welcomed — ere the morn Around the palace to his braying horn 96 ABDALLAH. Thronged the brave veterans whose swords had built Thrones for their masters, whose insatiate guilt, Though still allowed to share, no portion gave To them, but toils, and danger, and a grave. But still the Prophet was not seen— his eye, The beacon to the shore of victory, Blazed not to cheer the drear and eyeless sky. And till he came one universal blank Depressed the multitude. From rank to rank Omar passed round in vain; Mohammed stood Like a lone mountain in a shoreless flood, On which wild hope and courage might repose When life's last wave fell slumbering to its close. Meantime, along the solitary waste, In shapeless wreck of soul, Abdallah passed. No word escaped him, that which raged within — Thoughts of despair, impiety, and sin Of deadliest hue — claimed no affinity With language ; crumbling nature seemed to be Withering to one black scroll, and with the earth His spirit sinking to its place of birth. The Gheber broke not silence ; through the clear Cool night, disturbed by the growling drear At intervals of wolves, they reached the grove Of date-trees, lisping to the winds that rove ABDALLAH. 97 The earth ere dawn; his mute companion turned His head towards him, and, in words that burned, Gave him his thanks, his blessing-. « Holy God! Shower on this man thy mercy; he has trod The path of danger, — may thy blessing light, And shield his way as it has done this night!" And darting, with the words, between the trees Was lost in darkness. — Now the morning breeze Frolicked in golden clouds, and ere the sun Had put his burning crown of glory on, Rolled out his ruby masses from the sky, Castles and seas in wild variety ; And o'er his wide dominions streaming bright With azure-tinted atomies of light, Shook from his ether wings a richer scent Than e'er before embalmed the firmament. The streams of war are moving, and the plain Glitters with cimetars ; in either train Fury has breathed her spirit, and they come, Decked out as gorgeous trophies of the tomb. H 98 ABDALLAH. The men of Tayef see before their line Abdallah like a star of glory shine ; But whoso marked his countenance beheld A daring spirit difficultly quelled By waning reason — in his gloomy eye Was more of death than hope of victory. In his impatience far before he rode, Turned round, and oft his mazed steps retrod. And once, as he restrained his steed, there flew A feeble arrow by ; before his view It dropped — a letter on its point he saw, And his blood crept with dark, confused awe. From his proud steed he sprang, and opening it Found this short melancholy sentence writ. — " Thy Leilah sleeps! Her spirit, ere it passed The mortal bourne, upon thy image last Dwelt with a fearful clinging. Eager death, Ere it absorbed the small remains of breath, These words permitted; — ' Go, Honaiah, go, And let the youthful Chief of Tayef know His image will not leave me— nearing skies, Celestial bowers, unfading Paradise, — God does not banish it! But when this breast Shall have been hushed to deep eternal rest, ABDALLAH. 99 Tell him his Leilah does not bid him yield His honour up ; but if the battle-field Bring my loved sire before him, let him spare As he would God's eternal mercy share !' Such were her latest words ! " Upon his brain Her deep rich voice did seem to float again ; Before his eyes her form went flitting by, Rose in the breeze, and mingled with the sky. And on he dreamed, till now the clanging bray Of the loud trumpet bore his soul away To drink revenge, and mingle in the fray ! For up the deep defile the Prophet's van Was seen emerging — man succeeding man. A lengthened line ! His sire commands the hills, Blocks up the passes, every eminence fills With chosen bands, and bids his ardent son Right through the vale in daring march sweep on. Numbers were with the Prophet: desert clans Of wavering faith, from whom the caravans Evils anticipate ; and those that dwell Where since arose his tomb; the camel-bell H 2 100 ABDALLAH. Tinkled mid those who venerate the dove Cooing in Mecca's consecrated grove That waves o'er Zem Zem's well. In front was seen, Floating its emerald waves, the standard green, The Moslem symbol. On his mule of white, With countenance unperturbed as the light That shone upon his face, the Prophet came, Counting the rays that centred in his name. The opening shock of fight to that wild roar That like an earthquake shakes the solid shore Of Orellana, seemed, when wave with wave Foaming contends, when rushing torrents rave, Bounding aloft, and pouring in the womb Of the wide fathomless sea, that as a tomb, Dark, deep, interminable, swallows all The mad outrushing waters. Indians call This sight, which from the distant shuddering brink Moored in their frighted skiff they see, and think A war of demons, Pororoca. Now Man realised on earth as dread a show. The men of Tayef from the crested height Of hanging hills rushed headlong to the fight; ABDALLAH. 101 Slings, darts, and javelins, from above were thrown, And he who flung pursued his weapon down. Below Abdallah, cold his heart and steeled, Passed like the simoom o'er the withering field ; Death hung upon his rear, and when he threw His lance, pursued and tipped it as it flew. He met the Prophet, but remembering her Whose slightest wish could sacredness confer On all it touched, forbore his breast, and turned For Omar, where the fiercest combat burned. The Moslems now gave way; and, steeped in blood, He marked where Omar like a tiger stood, Glutting his carnage appetite — 'twas him He sought, and, quivering every manly limb, Burst on towards him, and his yearnings were Strong as the lioness's when her bare Unmaned head she thrusts against the spear That pierced her young. No sentiment of fear In Omar's breast ere harboured, but he felt Much of his manhood soften, as 'twould melt At his dark rival's look ; — instinctively He traced a backward step, and with his eye Seemed to invite a contest where but heaven Should arbitrate between them. 102 ABD ALLAH. He had given His gage to all mankind, no craven thought Could ever taint his soul, and now he sought A secret warfare, where no human eye Might greet the victor, whosoe'er should die. Deep mid the mountain's roots a winding way Led from the valley, where the noontide ray Falls glimmering 'tween the rocks' impending heads, As they would topple from their giddy beds Seeming ; his cautious steps here Omar bent, His fierce foe following, their dark intent By few perceived, Arrived, with eager glance They searched each other, ere the glittering lance Flew on its errand. Now the combat draws Near to its close ; they strike, they reel, they pause — Omar lies prostrate — pointed at his heart Why stays Abdallah's steel? Some wandering dart Has pierced his brain! — Nay, 'neath that hiding rock The Moslem stands that sped it. — With the shock Of the strong bow he seems bent forward still Waiting on tiptoe, if his wonted skill Have not deceived him doubting. Meleck's child Has breathed his last, and now with rapture wild ABD ALLAH. ]03 Omar stands o'er his conqueror, who lies Grasping his sabre, and his half-closed eyes Seem glaring vengeance still! He wrenched the steel From the stiff hand that held but could not feel Its burden, and with scrutinising eye The youthful form and manly symmetry Of his young foe examined. Mounting then His panting barb, he down the rapid glen Hurried to join the field. The Prophet there In imminent danger stood. The sultry air Echoed with cries — despairing he had thrown Himself among the enemy, alone, To meet a glorious death. From rank to rank 'Twas said the pride of Araby had sank Beneath an unknown hand, and rumours gain Swift wings of lightning on the battle plain; For now upon Al Meleck's ear it fell, That silent lay his son. Some shaft of hell Did seem to pierce the old man's heart as this Last rivulet of life and spring of bliss Became dried up for ever. Dreary night Seemed to close round him, and amid the fight, 104 ABDALLAH. Heedless, deranged, he wandered, thinking on His future gloomy home, his wife, his son, Till his heart sickened ; till some fatal quiver Sent forth a reed that silenced it for ever ! Then fled his tribe — Mohammed's standard then Floated triumphant o'er those desert men; And up from Honain's field, mid slaughtered foes, His star of empire wildly blazing rose. NOTES. NOTE\ Page 2. }\~hcre you meet A sictct spot, in the desert, ire. The greater part of Arabia 'Yemen excepted being covered with drv sands, t :to rocks, interspersed here and there with some fruitful spots, which receive their greatest advantages from their water and palm-trees." — Sale. 2 And the fair plant ic hi Meccan balm. '•• According to Puny. ' at the time of the Trojan war. unguents consisted of oi'.s perfumed with the odours of flowers, and chiefly of roses.' Hasselquist speaks of oil. impregnated with the tube- rose and the jasmine ; but the balm oi Mecca was preferred to pverv other." — Beckford. 108 NOTES. Page 2. Along the sand, fyc. " Dans ces deserts parsemes de rochers nuds, et dans ces plaines basses, rien n'arrete Taction du soleil, qui brule tous les vegetaux et reduit les terres en sable." — Niebuhr. Page 2. On- his head Nodded the heron-plume. "On the sides of the cistern, she noticed appendages of royalty, diadems and feathers of the heron, all sparkling with carbuncles." — Beckford's Caliph Vathek. Page 3. The crescent had been shorn Of the bright rays of glory it had borne On earth for many an age. It appears from innumerable testimonies that, among the objects of worship of the Sabasan Arabs, the Moon held a very distin- guished rank, and was esteemed one of their most ancient divini- ties. We find that the Ka'abah, the most ancient and celebrated NOTES. 109 edifice in the eastern world, was one of her temples ; and that her worship was supposed to have been instituted by the Patriarch Adam. The crescent, therefore, must have been a very early symbol; and the one in the Ottoman flag may be a relic of Sabasism. rf They (the Sabaeans) fable of Adam (not being the first man, but born of a woman) that he was a Prophet of the Moon ; and, by preaching, persuaded men to worship the Moon, and composed books of husbandry." — Maimonides apud Stanley. " The ancient Arabs particularly adored the Moon, Venus, and Saturn. The Ka'abah, to which they repaired in pilgrimage before the time of Mohammed, was a temple consecrated to the Moon." — M. Langles. " The Persian etymology of the names of the two sacred cities, Medina and Mecca, seems to prove that it was the Persians who introduced into Arabia Sabseism, or the worship of the stars and planets. Mohammed-Mohsyn, author of a very learned Persian work on the Twelve Religions of Asia, entitled " DcLbistcin, or the School of Manners, derives the word Mekkah, from the Persian words mah (moon) and kah (place), place of the moon ; or, where the moon is worshipped : and medynah, from mah (moon), and dyn (religion), religion of the moon." — M. Langles, Collect. Port, de Voyages. Page 3. Tayef. " Je n'ai pu decouvrir aucune ville remarquable dans Tinterieur de cette province (Hejaz) excepte celle de Tayef, situee sur une 110 NOTES. haute montagne, dans une contree si agreable, que les auteurs Arabes comparent ses environs a ceux de Damas et de Sana. Cette ville fournit Djidda et la Mecque de excellens fruits, principale- ment de raisins, et fait un commerce considerable d'amandes qui croissent en abondance dans son territoire." — Niebuhr. Page 5. When those fair -plumes, that now Wave like untainted xoreaths of Caspian snow, Would melt at touch, hung purpling in the ray As bends the lotus darkling 'neath the spray. " Here (Panwell) is a pagoda, by a tank nearly a mile in cir- cumference, on the water of which float multitudes of the beautiful red lotus; the flower is larger than that of the white water-lily, and is the most lovely of the nymphaeas I have seen." — Mrs. Graham's Journal of a Residence in India. Page 6. The night Hung out her lesser lamps, that, burning bright Along the cold dark firmament, gave birth To many a wild and beauteous tale on earth. " When men began to unite in society, they found it necessary to enlarge the means of their subsistence, and consequently to apply themselves to agriculture ; and the practice of agriculture required NOTES. 1 1 J the observation and knowledge of the heavens. It was necessary to know the periodical return of the same operations of nature, the same phenomena of the skies ; it was necessary to regulate the duration and succession of the seasons, months, and years. In order to this it was requisite to become acquainted with the march of the sun, which, in its zodiacal revolution, showed itself the first and supreme agent of all creation ; then of the moon, which, by its changes and returns, regulated and distributed time ; finally of the stars, and even of the planets, which, by their appearance and dis- appearance on the horizon and the nocturnal hemisphere, formed the minutest divisions." " Having observed that the produc- tions of the earth bore a regular and constant connection with the phenomena of the heavens ; that the birth, growth, and decay of each plant, were allied to the appearance, exaltation, and decline of the same planets, the same groupe of stars ; in short, that the languor or activity of vegetation seemed to depend on celestial in- fluences, men began to infer from this an idea of action, of power, in those bodies, superior to terrestrial beings ; and the stars, dis- pensing scarcity or abundance, became powers, genii, gods, authors of good and evil." " The Ethiopian of Thebes called stars of inundation, or of Aquarius, those under which the river began to overflow ; stars of the ox or bull, those under which it was conve- nient to plough the earth ; stars of the lion, those under which that animal, driven by thirst from the deserts, male his appearance on the banks of the Nile ; stars of the sheaf, or of the harvest-maid, those under which the harvests were got in, &c." — Volney, Ruins of Empires. " Nor were the planets only, but the signs and all the rest of the stars esteemed gods by the Chaldaeans ; ' for they burnt incense to the Mazaloth, and to all the rest of the host of heaven/ Mazal is a star : they called the signs (of the zodiac) the twelve Mazaloth : 112 NOTES. the zodiac the circle of Mazaloth : the Septuagint renders it /j.a£ovpotQ, which Suidas interprets the constellations called zooha, signs. This agrees with what Diodorus reports of the Chaldaeans, that i they held the principal gods to be twelve, to each of which they attributed a month, and one of the signs of the zodiac/" — Stanley. Lactantius, who seriously undertook to refute the opinions of the Sabaeans, to strengthen his reasoning, brought forward three lines from a work of Ovid, now lost ; in consideration of which we pardon his grave trifling. " How much more prudent than the fancied followers of wisdom," says he, " was Ovid, who believed that the stars were by the Deity placed in the firmament that they might dispel the horror of the darkness of the night !" — He con- cludes his phenomena with these verses : — " Tot numero, taliq ; Deus simulacra figura Imposuit coelo : perque atras sparsa tenebras Clara pruinosae jussit dare lumina nocti." Lact. De Orig. Erroris. There is, in Macrobius, much curious matter relating to the wor- ship of the stars, and the opinions entertained of their nature by ancient nations ; but it would be to render these notes too prolix to copy one-tenth of what he says on the subject. Page 8. And thou, O blessed Sun, Parent of daring thoughts, O lead me on ! The Sabaeans held, that the sun is the greatest god ; for they NOTES. n.3 plainly assert that the sun governs the superior and inferior worlds ; and call him the great Lord, the Lord of Good."— Stanley. The prominent figure which the sun made in the mythology of Greece is too well known to need a repetition of its tale : it appears to have inspired similar sentiments, and to have enjoyed equal honours in all nations. Page 10. The cloak That, black and ample, still the emir spoke. The inferior Arabs, as may well be imagined, are not very scru- pulous about the colour of their cloaks ; but the emirs, and men of rank in the east, have, of course, their fashions and tastes like other nobles: and fashion is not so unchangeable a geddessin those coun- tries as one might at first imagine. Their very beards are made, both in shape and co!our, to conform to the mode. " They perfume them highly, and often tinge them ; sometimes of a fine red, some- times with saffron, and with various other dyes. Red was the favourite colour of Mohammed, Abubeker, and Omar ; and their example was greatly followed. ' — Richardson on the Languages, fyc. of Eastern Nations. This whimsical piece of luxury is net the only one in which the descendants of Ismael indulge,— they paint their faces, and even their eyes ; and that the practice was of great antiquity we learn as well from scripture as from profane history. The Medes and Parthians practised it. Surena, who defeated and took prisoner the richest of the Roman generals, was in the habit of painting his face, after the manner of the Medes, says Plutarc i. I 1 1 4 NOTES. Page II. He stood on Arafat's sky-circled brow. Mount Arafat is distant about three miles from Mecca; and from its lofty summit descend numerous rills of fine clear water. Notwithstanding this, many ages elapsed before the Arabs suc- ceeded in bringing its waters to the sacred city. It was frequently attempted : in Mohammed's time, by Zobair, one of the principal men of the tribe of Koreish, successlessly ; but, being begun at the charge of a wife of Soliman, the Turkish emperor, was effected about two centuries ago. —See Sale's Preliminary Discourse to the Koran. Page 13. The midnight ghoul. " Goul, or ghul, in Arabic, signifies any terrifying object, which deprives people of the use of their senses. Hence it became the appellative of that species of monster which was supposed to haunt forests, cemeteries, and other lonely places ; and believed not only to tear in pieces the living, but to dig up and devour the dead." — Richardson. " He looked not less pale and haggard than the goules that wander at night among the graves." — Beckford, Caliph Vathek. NOTES. ilS Page 15. The porphyry cave, where erst Mohammed lay. It was in a cave of Mount Arafat that Mohammed is said to have received leaf by leaf the -whole of his revelation. Soliiude is as favourable to genius as it is to mysticism ; and it is not improbable that the Prophet sketched out, in that retreat, those bold plans which required ages for their accomplishment. — See Sale and Gibbon. Page 17. Hajnsa. Han sa. was killed in a subsequent combat, but I have despatched him here for convenience. Page 19. Before his eyes there came, Borne on a cloud of bright ethereal flame, A form of heaven — Zoharah. u Allat (the symbol of Venus) was the idol of the tribe of Thakif, who dwelt at Tayef, and had a temple consecrated to her in a place called Nakhlah. This idol Al Bftogheirah destroyed bv Moham- H6 NOTES. med's order, who sent him and Abu Sophian on that commission, in the ninth year of the Hejra. The inhabitants of Tayef, espe- cially the women, bitterly lamented the loss of this their deity, which they were so fond of, that they begged of Mohammed, as a condition of peace, that it might not be destroyed for three years, and, not obtaining that, they asked only a month's respite ; but he absolutely denied it." " The ancient Arabs had seven cele- brated temples, dedicated to the seven planets, one of which, Beit Ghomdan, was built in Sanaa, the metropolis of Yemen, by Dahar, to the honour of Al Zoharah, or the planet Venus." — Sale. ,l Like Zohara, on the rosy fields of morn, when she rises, with her sparkling attendants, from bathing in the Eastern deep."— Tales of Inatulla. Page 23. O'er the arid ground, That like a pathless rampart stretches round The sacred city. The country round Mecca is composed of the same species of sand as that which forms the surface of the great desert, and there are found in it no plants but those which grow in the most arid wastes. This girdle of sand is bounded by mountains, abounding in water, and covered with verdure. From these hills the city, rearing up her white minarets, like the queen of the desert, may be seen to great advantage. — See Niebuhr, Gibbon, &c. NOTES. 1 1 7 Page 23. The palm and almond grove, where softly coos Th' inviolable dove. The reason why the doves of Mecca are held sacred, perhaps, is, that the city and its environs are so considered ; every thing, con- sequently, which makes Mecca an asylum escapes the persecution of man, hunting and fowling being prohibited throughout its ter- ritories. Page 23. He rightly knew The path he chose teas narrow as the one That rears its dizzy height Death's flood upon. The bridge al Sirah, over which the faithful pass in their way to Paradise. It is as narrow as the edge of a keen cimetar, and of course rather difficult to walk over; but the houris, beckoning from the farther extremity of it upon the passengers, cause them to march on at all hazards ; and we are told that some, who are not over perfect in their faith, but fond of houris nevertheless, in the great haste they make, tumble in, and are carried off, I presume, by Eblis. — See Sale, and the other Commentators on the Koran. 118 NOTES. Page 27. He raised his eyes, and saw —not that fell sprite His soul had pictured, but a form as bright As Eblis in his pristine robe of light. The historians of the Prophet have been very particular in their description of his personal beauty ; but I have no where met with a passage that conveyed so advantageous an idea of him as the fol- lowing. " II avait une eloquence vive et forte, depouillee d'art et de methode, telle qu'il la fallait a des Arabes ; un air d'autorite et d'insinuation, anime par des yeux per^ans, et par une physionome heureuse, Tintrepidite d' Alexandre, sa liberalite, et la sobriete dont Alexandre aurait eu besoin pour etre un grand homme en tout." — Voltaire, Essai sur les Mceurs. As to the beauty of Eblis, sufficient is said in many passages of the Koran to let us see how highly the Arabs thought of him before his fall. To show his superiority to mortals, it is said that he was created of fire, while we were formed of clay ; and the insolence with which he treated the first model of man is sufficient to let us into the secret of his character. —See the Commentators on the Koran. Page 29. Water— from the holy spring. Zem Zem, whose waters, so called from their murmuring, are themselves rather brackish. It is no wonder, however, that, such NOTES. 119 as it was, the well Zem Zem obtained the epithet holy in such a place as Mecca, where water is so great a rarity. It is said that the first snow -which was ever seen in the city was carried thither from a great distance by one of the caliphs ; but there vras no ne- cessity for his carrying it so far, as it falls plentifully in the moun- tains of Arabia ; and might have been brought there with very little trouble, had the Arabs thought it worth carrying. u Le froid produit par l'elevation du terrein y occasionne de neiges. qui ne subsistent pas cependant jamais long-te:: s.*' •• On nous as- sure, qu'on avoit de la glace sur quelques montagnes, et qu'il geloit quelquefois a Sana, endroit situe entre les montagnes dans Finte- rieur du pays.'* — Neibuhr. P gc 30. My camel-bell, Soft-tinkling through the rieh responsive deit. The Prophet, in his younger days, made two or three journeys into Syria. I have not met with any authority for his being at Tayef in quality of merchant, but he might have been there. Page 33. As uhtn the sun Darts down his rays upon the waste. The seraub leads the traveller on Its dim, unreal waves to taste ; — But &s to the unbelievers, their works are like the vapour in a J 20 NOTES. plain, which the thirsty traveller thinketh to be water, until when he cometh thereto, he findeth it to be nothing." — Koran, c. 24. " Towards evening many persons were astonished with the ap- pearance of a long lake, enclosing several little islands ; notwith- standing the well-known nature of the country, many were positive that it was a lake, and one of the surveyors took the bearings of it. It was, however, one of those illusions which the French call mirage, and the Persians sirraub." " The ground was quite level and smooth, composed of dried mud or clay, mixed with par- ticles of sparkling sand : there were some tufts of grass, and some little bushes of rue, &c at this spot, which were reflected as in water, and this appearance continued at the ends when viewed from the middle." — Elphinstone's Account of the Kingdom of Caubul. Page 41 . That Day was stealing from the sky, And Night his rosy steps pursuing. " Turn instituit lucem ut criginale quiddam Sed tenebra? secutas sunt sicut umbra personam." — Hyde, Religio Vet. Pers. Page 45. The sacred spot Has never been a tyrant's lot. The Arabs have preserved their liberty, of which few nations NOTES. 121 can produce so ancient monuments, with very little interruption, even from the very deluge." — Sale. Page 46. The still Moss-bedded, crystal mountain-rill Swelled to a torrent. That the mountain rivulets swell, in tropical climates, to a very great size, after a rain-storm, may be easily imagined ; but the ra- pidity with which they increase is almost incredible. — See Niebuhr. Page 40. The symbol, pure and bright, Of him who called the world from night. " Les Gaures ne rendent pas au feu les honneurs qu'on pourroit s'imaginer sous le titre d'adoration." — Tavernier. " They (the Ghebers) not only attribute no sort of sense or rea- soning to fire in auy of its operations, but consider it as a purely passive blind instrument, directed and governed by the immediate impressions on it of the will of God." — Grose. 122 NOTES. Page 48. Each lofty column's base displayed A rattling skeleton. " lis n'enterrent point leurs morts ni ne les brulent. lis les portent kors de la ville en un grand place fermee— ou il y a quantite de piliers — et ils lient le mort debout a un de ces piliers le visage du cote de Forient." — Tavernier. Page 50. A stranger, then, had seen the flame. " II n'y a jamais eu de peuples plus jaloux de cacher les mys- teres de leur religion, que les Gaures " (Ghebers). — Tavernier. " Pendant que j'etois a Kerman je les priai de me faire voir ce feu, et ils me repondirent que cela ne se pouvoit." — Ibid. Page 53. Zerdusht's celestial laws, fyc. For an account of his laws and institutions, see Hyde. NOTES. 123 Page 55. The breezes on their morning icings Bore health and fragrance. The writer of an oldhis'.ory of the Turkish empire, quoted by Sir William Jones, says, " The air of Egypt, sometimes in summer, is like any sweet perfume, and almost suffocates the spirits, caused by the wind that brings the odours of the Arabian spices." Page 60. The hope of heaven. " Some of the pagan Arabs believed neither a creation past, nor resurrection to come, attributing the origin of things to nature, and their dissolution to age. Others believed both ; among whom were those who, when they died, had their camel tied by their sepulchre, and so left without meat or drink to perish, and accompany them to the other world, lest they should be obliged, at the resurrection, to go on foot, which was reckoned very scandalous." — Sale. Page 62. The light jereed. " Throwing the lance (jereed) was a favourite pastime among the young Arabians ; and so expert were they in this practice (which J 24 NOTES. prepared them for the mightier conflicts, both of the chase and war) that they could bear off a ring on the points of their javelins." — Richardson. Page 68. The castle, fyc. " Les Arabes ont pour defence des chateaux batis sur des rochers escarpes," — Niebuhr. Page 70. The Prophet-king, fyc. Zoroaster. " Le roi se laissa transporter a la colere, com- mandant qu'on allumat un grand feu, et qu'on jettat cet enfant (Zerdusht) dedans pour y etre consume : mais, par la puissance de Dieu, le feu qu'on avoit prepare pour bruler 1'enfant, se con- vertit en un lit de roses oil il reposafort doucement" — Tavernier. Page 83. Cayster's sivans. " Or milk-white swans in Asia's watery plains, That o'er the winding of Cayster's springs, Stretch their long necks, and clap their rustling wings." Homer, II. b. ii. Pope's Traits, NOTES. 125 Page 84. My inmost soul Till it itself is fire ! The Parsees believe the human soul to be constituted of fire. Grose. Page 100. The opening shock of fight to that wild roar That like an earthquake shakes the solid shore Of Orellana, fyc. " The most sublime phenomenon of this kind (the Mascaret) which presents itself, is that of the giant of rivers, the Orellana, called the river of the Amazons. Twice a day it pours out its imprisoned waves into the bosom of the ocean. A liquid mountain is thus raised of the height of 180 feet ; it frequently meets the flowing tide of the sea, and the shock of these two bodies of water is so dreadful, that it makes all the neighbouring islands tremble ; the fishermen and navigators fly from it with the utmost terror. The next day, or the second day after every new or full moon, the time when the tides are highest, the river also seems to redouble its power and energy; its waters and those of the ocean rush against each other like the onset of two armies. The banks are inundated with their foaming waves ; the rocks, drawn along like light vessels, dash against each other, almost upon the surface of 126 NOTES. the water which bears them on. Loud roarings echo from island to island. The Indians call this phenomenon Pororoca." — Malte- Brun, System of Geography. Page 103. Despairing he had thrown Himself among the enemy, alone, To meet a glorious death. " The Prophet, on his white mule, was encompassed by the ene- mies ; he attempted to rush against their spears in search of a glorious death : ten of his faithful companions interposed their weapons and their breasts ; three of these fell dead at his feet." — Gibbon. MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. POEMS [The following passages of the unfinished " Tragedy of iEgeus " have been deemed too diffuse and light for that species of drama, and have therefore been detached for separate publica- tion: for many pieces of this kind may be capable of yielding pleasure by themselves, which the severe simplicity of tragedy would reject. Men have been led by a new species of pedantry to regard the drama of the ancient Greeks with a degree of scorn, and to afford no quarter to modern compositions upon mythological subjects. It is very questionable whether there be not as much ignorance as affectation in this ; for, to the matter- of-fact assertion, that the mythology is no longer believed in, — I answer, that neither was it ever believed by those who wrote, or by the greater part of those who read, about it in antiquity. Euripides, Sophocles, &c. were no idol or demon worshippers ; and, at the present day, we yield as much belief to a mythologi- cal tale as to any other fiction whatever.] PASSAGES FROM THE TRAGEDY OF ^GEUS [Scene on ship-board, within sight of Naxos.] Theseus. My friend, it is an oracle. Pandion. Oracle, Theseus 1 — you do only dream — Without departing from the general laws By which they regulate this universe, The Gods can neither send nor sanction them. Deem nought to be oracular that comes Through sense's mere familiar avenues, Which each day to the spirit minister Common ideas, common notices, TRAGEDY OF iEGEUS. 131 Of trivial, mean, and base, and earthly things. Did the Gods come, they'd come in majesty, Cleaving the deep abysses of the world With far-felt earthquakes; and their creatures would Receive new senses, novel springs of thought, Additional dignity, fresh supplies of worth, To greet their coming. Trouble not for dreams, Oracular deemed in vain, thy quiet soul. Theseus. Would I could think as thou! but something dark Spreads like an awful circle round my soul. I seem in-netted. Not a thought that springs From my mind's fount, that seeks the plains below Or free or self-directed — demons come, And shape its course, and guide its winding wave Through caves or frightful solitudes ! 'neath storms Raving o'er nature, to some dark abyss Which yawns like hell ! and Dionysius Stoops from the burning sky and points below, Muttering of fixed inexorable fate, And wilful mortals, — and, in milder tone, The name of Ariadne. Pandion. Thoughts like these k2 132 PASSAGES FROM THE Arise from deeds and situations strange ; Athens once reached they'll fade before your joy. As fades the glow-worm when the eager dawn Peeps dimly o'er the battlements of heaven, Ere the bright hours have harnessed her car. Theseus. Revengeful Minos-— Pandion. Pshaw! his ocean-line, Mingled perforce with iEgeus' nobler seed, There where his sword before had made a desert, Will shoot up to a forest. Should he come, And from the tyrant's sanguinary eye No less I augur, let him mount the walls O'er battlements of his own flesh and blood ; Let his sword eat into his soul, and lave Its vengeful point in that same crimson stream That warmed, ere now, his heart. — But, as to fate, And hell, and Bacchus, prince, I tell thee freely I do despise them all, and so should'st thou. Theseus. Despise the Gods! my Pandion how is this? TRAGEDY OF iEGEUS. 1 33 I thought thee virtuous, heaven-fearing, wise — But this bold blasphemy — Pan dion. Nay, think so still, And thou wilt think most truly. But, my friend, I knew an ancient voyager who once Had wandered by the banks of reedy Nile,* And hundred palaced Thebes, — and, onward still, Babylon, Ganges, and the Yellow stream Which laves the world's extreme, had visited. And he had gathered in his lengthened track Gray stores of wisdom. 'Twas his sentiment, That all this infinite universe contains Arose from two eternal principles, — Evil and good, — the latter to adore With meek humility, as one that stands Of sacrifices, ceremonies, rites, Heedless, — but on the good and virtuous man Smiles most propitiously. The evil one, Struggling perpetually to mount the throne Of sentient nature, causes those dark spots * This name, afterwards imposed on the river iEgyptus, was unknown in the days of Theseus ; as were also the Ganges and Yellow river: but the anachronism may be pardoned. 134 PASSAGES FROM THE Which blot the lucid surface of her sun. All else that men in their imaginings Have worshipped as divine, nature abhors. This to thee, prince. Theseus. Why then this evil one, Of which thou speakest, must be he who haunts My nightly pillow, — but it cannot be. The Gods the ancients worshipped must be Gods ; For in all lands their altars smoke, their shrines Glitter in every sun-beam which pervades This softly-yielding air. The wise, the good, Since the bright birth-day of fleet-winged Time, Have propped their hallowed fanes. Pandion. Ingenuous prince ! The young are ever ready to believe In outward seeming; could'st thou read the heart Of these same sages that so rapt appear At Jupiter, or Mars, or Dian's fane, Thou 'dst see the serpent Doubt deep-coiled within, Instead of Piety. Few, few believe Their country's rude but palatable faith ; But all, by tacit covenant, abstain TRAGEDY OF yEGEUS. 135 From outward, loud, and explicit disdain. The people, they suppose, have need of faith, And so they prop the altars and the priests. Theseus. These things then, of that doting voyager, Thou, my dear friend, hast heard, — his creed it was, We will allow it him. But, oh ! the Gods, The Gods of Greece and Athens shall be mine ! — But see, my Ariadne. Ariadne. Theseus, What beauteous isle is that which, from the waves Which stretch their heaving silver bosom round, Rears its green head? The trim and mossy turf, Embossed with many a flower, comes sloping down To meet the circling ocean. On the right, Lo! there are lovely trees, which, as we sail Nearer and nearer land, do seem to grow From dwarfs to giants. 'Tis some sacred grove! For, see, the very children, as they skip Like fawns along its margin, if perchance By inadvertent frolic they too near Approach, seem awed, and fly away with dread. 136 PASSAGES FROM THE Theseus. "lis Naxos, love ; and, in its peaceful bowers, The night that hastening comes, we mean to pass. Yon grove, — the murmuring rivulets that glide Hushed when they meet its shade, — the neighbouring sea, — The cooing of innumerable doves Nestling amid the boughs, — and the deep song Of the sweet nightingale, when these are mute, Charming the ear of night, — all make this shore The fit sojourn of love. Ho! mariners, Draw in the sails, slacken the busy oars, That we may make yon elevated point Slowly and solemnly. Pan dion. My gallant prince, I'll render them assistance, fare you well. [Exit, SCENE II. Theseus, Ariadne. Ariadne. My gentle Lord, TRAGEDY OF ^GEUS. 137 Your eye, which love was wont to light, is dim, And, when you look upon me, half recoiled, As if it feared in my enraptured gaze T' encounter something dreadful. Do you fear The King of polished Athens would reject Minos's daughter? Would his lawful rage Extend, think you, to her whom fortune gave To save of one so dear the sacred life ? If so, my Theseus, I could e'en resign The hope of envied sovereignty with thee, So we might here upon this sea-girt isle But live and love ! Theseus. So the good Gods permit, Thou lovely maid ! wherever Theseus lives There shall his love of Ariadne live ! Those clouds, those passing shadows oft which dim The lustre of thy lover's eyes, touch not The temper of his heart. I love, I love ! My Ariadne, yes. — But, oh! the Gods — I would that I could tell thee what the Gods Do seem to menace ; — let the thought depart. The galley grates against the sandy shore, The air is perfumed by the breathing flowers. Futurity be hid! — We land, we land. 138 PASSAGES FROM THE Ariadne. Nay, tell me what is threatened by the Gods. They would not have us part? my soul would else, Of their immortal natures, justice, wishes, Gifts, f dispensations, rites, and sacrifices, Think most contemptuously. Theseus. Why thus it is, That with the variations of our fate The Gods themselves do seem to fluctuate. Their dispensations all are dark, their rites Mysterious, unaccountable, their gifts Destructive of our peace. They envy us, And never send a blessing but there comes Inevitably linked a secret curse. Thus life is linked with death, — sickness with health- With joy the fated necessary blank Of being that follows. Love is linked with care, Inquietude, desire, and dread of wrong. But as to what they now do meditate, If good, or otherwise, I cannot tell. They haunt, pursue, disturb, and threaten me, But reveal nothing clearly. TRAGEDY OF JEGElv 139 Ariadne. Love, I submit ; so thou wilt love me still ! SCENE III. [J. grove near the temple of Bacchus — The moon- light dimly falling through the thick foliage — Theseus and Ariadne asleep on a bed of leaves and flowers— Theseus suddenly starts up.] Theseus. Immortal Gods ! this hated vision still, And clad in ten-fold horror ! — Be it so ! I tear me from her arms, — but, from my heart, Xot heaven itself can rend her beauteous imasre. There it shall flourish gTeen, while yet the tide, The purple tide of being, ebbs and flows, Ill-fated maid! thou sleepest, and thy love Xow warmly eddies round thy youthful heart To be with morn frozen for ever ! Gods, Ye rule the world like tyrants. Gentle love Your partial hatred never fails to rouse. O let me take one last, one parting kiss. While yet she sleeps ! How fragile is her form ! 140 PASSAGES, ETC. Not she of Heaven, with mystic arc and dart, More pale — no, nor more beautiful. [He kisses her. She sleeps As sound as if the grave had laid its hand On all life's functions. Sweetest maid, adieu ! May the best part of heaven o'ercanopy Thy lovely head, and shelter thee from harm. By over-ruling- Fate, the hand that should And would protect thee, from thy side is driven. Thou'lt think me treacherous, base, deceitful, dark, And mutable as hell; wilt loath my name, And future ages, should our tale survive, Will quote me as a monument of guilt ! Yet oh ! the hell that steeps my senses now Is worse than all. Methinks, that I could brave The thought of future infamy, the pang Of hateful and keen -racking recollection ; But oh ! to see thee here, and there the path Which when I tread will steal thee from my eyes, Is such a concentration, such an essence Of keen, absorbing, intellectual pain, That many an age of Sisyphus's hell, Seem crowded in one moment : — fare thee well, Brightest of all earth's daughters, fare thee well ! [Exit. 14! DIRGE, Sung by Orpheus and Chorus of Thracian Virgins over the Tomb o/Linus. To these a youth awakes the warbling strings, Whose tender lay the fate of Linus sings." Pope's Trans, of the Iliad. Wail, wail, ye virgin throng ! The Sire of song* On earth's dark breast for ever silent lies : No more his cheerful pipe Its numbers rich and ripe Shall pour at evening to the listening skies. * Linus was the inventor of Poetry, and the first who intro- duced the Phoenician Letters into Greece. Some say he was a native of Euboea. 142 DIRGE. No more shall nymph or fawn O'er dewy lawn, Listening, on tip-toe through the moonlight come ; Nor shall the shepherd haste His evening short repast, Leaving for thy sweet strain the joys of home. No more shall sylvan maid Her ringlets braid, Like morning's golden clouds to meet thine eye ; Or with enamoured cheek Her growing passion speak, Or downcast modest look, or chastened sigh. Nor shall the summer eve Fantastic weave Her pall of vapour, and slow-fading light, To tempt thy steps abroad, Alone, enrapt, o'erawed, Watching unfold the starry robe of night. The slow, far-dying roar Of ocean hoar, Tumbling his billows round some distant isle, Is henceforth dumb to thee, Dear shade ! tho' wont to be Parent of sweet response, or radiant smile. DIRGE. 143 And even the gods will want Thy mystic chant, Wont still at morn or dusky eve to swell Along the answering shore, Or o'er the ocean floor, Or through the forest wild or lonely dell. How can the lofty soul The dull control, The mystic leaden sleep of Pluto brook I Cannot it wear away Its clogging chains of clay, And yet enjoy earth's ever-cheerful look ? Alas, alas ! we mourn That no return, When o'er the Stygian bank the spirit goes, The gods severe allow ; But all our bitter woe, Like streams in deserts lost, unheeded flows. Yet to this sylvan grave, And crystal wave, That murmurs music thro' the mournful grass, These laurels ever green Shall tempt, as oft as seen, The feet of heedful travellers as they pass. 144 DIRGE. And oh ! if wakening fame A right may claim To cheer a shade on Pluto's gloomy shore, Thee, thee, the choral lay Of bards and virgins gay Shall chant, O Linus ! now and evermore. For thou has oped a spring Which, murmuring, Deepening, and widening, shall, to latest days, Where'er the passions be, Float wild, and sweet, and free, And, in its cadenced flow, re-echo with thy praise. Farewell, loved bard! farewell: I may not tell How thou dost govern still thy Orpheus' breast ; But every solemn year The Gods permit me here, My songs shall soothe thee in thy golden rest. 145 NIGHT. Ye distant, beautiful, and glowing stars, That thus have twinkled 'neath the wings of night So many countless years ! beautiful still, But silent as the grave ! — How many hearts, Yearning, like mine, to know your holy birth, Have questioned you in vain ! Ye shine, and shine, But answer not a word. Why is it thus ? Why are your vast circumferences lessened By intervening cold and lifeless space ? In the wide ocean's waves, that roll between, The music of your motions too is lost ; Or if some meditative holy ear Catch the sweet cadence flowing from above, It is so soft, so faint, so exquisite, It rather vibrates through the listening soul Than trembles on the ear ! — 'Tis heavenly sweet To see you gem the spacious firmament, Like fiery brilliants set in ebony ! To gaze upon you, hung like beacons out Upon the margin of another world, L 146 NIGHT. Inviting us on high, is ecstasy ! But yet ye are so distant, and your round And bright immenseness, so diminutived, That a light sparrow's wing, nay, a frail leaf, While trembling to the passing breath of night, If interposed, can shut your brightness out, Eclipse you for a moment from our eyes : A leaf eclipsed a world ! But, oh! 'tis thus Even in our world itself : the veriest trash, The hidden mischief of the secret earth, Ancestry, title, blood, if hurled between The gem of genius forming in the mine And the sun's fostering ray, will intercept The glorious, bright, and necessary fire, And let the jewel perish in the womb Of grand prolific nature. But there are Spirits of fire, that will shine out at last, And blaze, and kindle others. These delight In the lone musing hour to roam the earth ; To listen to the music of the trees ; Or if perchance the nightingale be near, Pouring her sweet and solitary song, They love to hear her lay. With such as these 'Tis sweet to hold communion. Though the world, And fates of life, forbid a closer tie, Yet we can gaze upon the self-same stars NIGHT. 147 As Byron in his Grecian skiff is wont To view at midnight, or which livelier Moore Translates into his soft and glowing song. Nay, more — those very stars in elder time, Sparkling with purer light in the clear sky Of Greece, perhaps, were those that Homer saw, And thought so beautiful, that even the gods Might dwell in them with pride. O holy Night ! If thou canst wake so many luminous dreams ; Call up such recollections ; bring the past, The present, and the future into one Immortal feeling ; from thy influence Let me draw inspiration ! let me mount Thy mystic atmosphere ; and let the shades Of heroes, gods, and poets in the clouds Meet my impassioned gaze ! My soul is dark, And wild, and wayward ; and the silver moon Shooting her rays upon the misty deep, Or sleeping on the frowning battlement Of some time-stricken, solitary tower That rises in the desert, seems more bright, And grand, and glorious, than the glaring sun Shining upon the open haunts of men. 148 TO THE GRASSHOPPER. FROM THE GREEK OF ANACREON. Blest, O Grasshopper! art thou, Seated on the lofty bough, Sipping glittering drops of dew, Singing songs for ever new. Like a king thou look'st around O'er the finely-cultured ground: Whate'er the laughing seasons bear, As they pursue the circling year; The rose, the olive, and the vine — All, all thou ever seest is thine. The rough rude tiller of the earth Joys to hear thy harmless mirth : Nay, thy sweet prophetic song Foretelling summer-days, among The green leaves floating, mortals all Cheering, soft, delightful call. The very muses, and their king Phoebus, love to hear thee sing — TO THE GRASSHOPPER. 149 Nay, the latter taught, they say, Thy merry song to wind away. Old age on thee, and on thy strain Exerts its withering power in vain, Thou earth-born master of the lay, All unlike a child of clay ! UnsufFering, fleshless, free, thy fate Is like the happy gods' estate. 150 TO THE MORNING STAR. While all, as yet, is hushed and still, I see thee rising o'er the hill, Along the cool and quiet sky To meet the fierce Orion's eye. Let others greet the Star of Eve Twinkling above the ocean wave, And shedding light on lovers' feet, Delighting 'neath his ray to meet ; To me, thou sober watcher, thou Dost shed a holier lustre now, While all alone well pleased I tread The deep grey, dew-besprinkled mead. The little nations of the wood Sleep fast, despite this tumbling flood, Rolling his restless waters by. No lark as yet hath pierced the sky ! Bright star! what lovely peace around, Through heaven, and earth, and sea is found Beneath thy beam ; nor shining day, Nor night beginning, ever sway TO THE MORNING STAR. 151 Our souls so placidly, or give So full, what makes it bliss to live. How due the pious Grecian* stole To feel thy influence on his soul, From early couch, and wound his way Along the cool Munychian bay! Thus, too, be mine the freshening breeze Soft- wafted from the curling seas ; Be mine the sound of dipping oar, And boat's wake rippling from the shore, And slender billow breaking in Some distant cave with murmuring din, And venturous sea-mew screaming far, Beneath the cold bright Morning Star. * Socrates. See Plato's Dialogues. 152 TO THE EVENING STAR. FROM THE GREEK OF BION.* Hesper, golden light of gentle love! Dear sacred glory of the azure night! Thy brilliance shines all other stars above Far as it yields to Cynthia's stronger light. Be blest, bright star! and to my shepherd swain, As o'er the glimm'ring moor alone I go, 'Stead of the moon, now sunk beneath the main, Yield me thy cheerful light; believe me, too, 1 seek no evil, I would injure none, I wish to love, and be beloved, alone. * Heinsius attributes the trifle to Moschus. 153 THE IVY CHAPLET. Hederam, inter doctarum praemia frontium recensitam, poetisque praesertim pro corona datam legimus : propter inebriandi scilicet, sive enthusiasmum quondam excitandi potestatem, quam, pe- rinde ac laurus, habuisse reperta est. ANTiaUITATES MlDDLETONIANffi, p. 163—164. Give, O give an ivy wreath, With berries clustering thick beneath The leaves inspiring fury sweet, Dear Maenad e with the snowy feet ! Come near, thy madness let me share, Bright virgin with the streaming hair ; Quick, my burning temples press, Nor heed thy loosely-flowing dress, Not that this rage I would restrain, Or feel the Muse's breath in vain ; This wild retreat, this rocky shore, The sea's soft-curling crystal floor, Th' inspiring God throughout thy frame. All fan the strong Pierian flame ! 154 THE IVY CHAPLET. But still the ivy chaplet weave, I would its maddening- power receive To force the stream of song- to flow By all that earth and heaven bestow. There ! — Now, O virgin, add the lyre, I feel the wreath my soul inspire ; Then sit thee on that rock, and hear, While sweet the waves are murmuring near, My free and dithyrambic strain — Then hie thee to thy rites again. 155 SONNET TO MINERVA. Stern Maid of Heaven, protectress of the wise, Why didst thou e'er forsake Athena's towers ? Why from her mart of thought, her olive bowers, Didst thou avert thy lore-inspiring eyes ? Is it that fickleness usurps the skies ; Or that all states have their unhappy hours ; Or that the Gods withdraw their sacred dowers, When man from virtue's narrow pathway flies? Be as it may, return thee to the spot ; Think of no ancient wrongs, O Goddess, now. Be all her failings — be thy wrath forgot; And what thou canst for fallen Athena show. Extend thy aegis o'er thy ruined fane, And give its ancient glory back again. 156 CASTLE. With a warm heart o'erthronged with many a fear, In childhood I beheld this lonely pile Stirring poetic thoughts — from year to year It caught the evening moon's pale silver smile, And seemed enthroned in mystery ; the while The ascetic owl poured forth his sullen shriek, And from its crannied base or chappelled aisle Forth darted the dim bat, with vision weak, Skimming along the wave which at its foot did break, And close upon the skirt of eve there came The fisher's skiff, with soal or turbot fraught, Cleaving the wave crested with phosphor flame, Which, leaning o'er the prow, his urchin caught In unburnt hand — the sire, with riper thought, Eying the pole-star or the glittering wain, Or, in his rude mythology, the grot Beneath the turret, peopling with the train Of fairy elves who haunt the margin of the main. L CASTLE. 157 Just then the visions of far Araby Had spread their fibres round my fancy's spring, And struck deep root; and forth I stole to be Free to indulge my fond imagining : The oar's light dip — the rustling vulture's wing Brushing the ivied tower — the far-off sail Glancing athwart the moonlight,— failed to bring Other than magic hopes, without the pale Of whatsoe'er of true in nature doth prevail. Genii, magicians, filled the moaning wind That came at fits full thro' the ruined wall, Which seemed an isthmus reared up by the mind, To part th' unreal from the natural : And if a lapse of sound, perchance let fall In the dusk woods behind, at eve were heard, Strait 'twas the spirit of the breeze's call Mustering Ins brethren, and his very word Noted, distinct became, as song of well-known bird. 1 * But time subdues romance: — by slow degrees, Like the bright tincture of an evening cloud Through which the light is lapsing, on the breeze Floated the fairies off — the genii bowed * A superstition peculiar to that part of the country. !58 L CASTLE. Their heads, and, shuffling on their midnight shroud, Escaped into the darkness. — All alone, At early manhood's dawn, I stood, not proud That these my boyhood's visitants were gone, But choosing Truth's stern lap to lay my head upon. 159 ON THE BURNING OF WIDOWS IN INDIA. I. Is it the only proof of love to die — To pass off like a shadow when the form Which gave the semblance life, no more is nigh, Companion for the funeral-pile or worm? Is there no keeping fond affection warm By living solely for the hallo w'd dead? Cannot the heart beat still amid the storm And coil of life, for him whose narrow bed Nor warm'd nor soften'd is by laying head by head? II. 'Twas the fierce breathing of the savage state, Whose dim ideas pierce not through the grave, Which made the gentle bride pursue her mate Beyond the windings of the Stygian wave : She knew nor life nor death, and so was brave By simple instinct of a fiery soul; And hasten'd dull oblivion's aid to crave, 160 BURNING OF WIDOWS IN INDIA. Not having lived to feel the wise control Of mother's cares, perchance, that calm the passions' roll. III. _ But no vain precedent from hence should spring", No law, to force the more reflecting mind. All cannot feel th' insufferable sting Of lonely after-being left behind, — The sole link snapp'd that to the world did bind, — Nor can this blight seize many hearts on earth: The greater part deliver to the wind Their cares and sorrows ; and from rosy mirth Invoke bland smiles to cheer the bright domestic hearth. IV. And nought in truth but ignorance and crime Can deem self-sacrifice the test of love ; Or stain the ever-rolling wheels of time, Whose vast circumference conveys above The blots on earth contracted, as they move On the broad highway of eternity. With blood of murder'd innocence, that strove The meditated deed perchance to flee, To breathe heaven's blessed air, full happy but to be. BURNING OF WIDOWS IN INDIA. 16l V. But when fast bound to earth by thousand ties The friend, the daughter, and the mother, stands; When the frail pledges of their sympathies Implore her yet to live with lifted hands ; When none but Superstition's cursed bands Stand round and urge her to the flaming pile, Forging of angry heaven the dire commands Her fluctuating spirit to beguile — Though none but basest ends incite their hearts the while ; VI. Who can repress his scorn of priestly trade, The scourge for many an age of Asian land, The mark which those who traffic or invade Her gems and perfumes suffer aye to stand; Though one mild effort of the conquering hand Might free the earth from this detested blot, And lead in bless'd Religion to withstand By her meek statutes what has dimm'd the lot Of man, and wrought such deeds as may not be forgot. VII. Who can behold the unwilling victim led In sad and mocking pomp to meet her doom, 162 BURNING OF WIDOWS IN INDIA. That few short years before her bridal bed First saw — ah! little dreaming of the tomb! — And not feel rage and bitter anger come Troubling his spirit, spreading to his kind, And closing life's short vista with a gloom That hangs its heavy pinions on the mind, Making it loath its state, unhappy, unresign'd? VIII. But Knowledge, slowly rising, like the sun In early spring upon the Lapland plain, Gives forth faint light, but, lengthening days begun, Its growing rays do gather strength amain ; And clouds spring up and interpose in vain — The living principle asserts the sky — Driven back, or scatter'd wide in driving rain, To furthest corners of the heavens they fly, Shunning for aye the glare of day's all-lightening eye. THE END, Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide Treatment Date: April 2009 PreservationTechnologies A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 111 Thomson Park Drive Cranberry Township, PA 1 6066 (724) 779-2111