They come—the Moslems come !"--he cries, His proud soul mounting to his eyes“Now, Spirits of the Brave, who roam Enfranchis'd through yon starry dome, Rejoice-for souls of kindred fire Are on the wing to join your choir !" He said-and, light as bridegrooms bound To their young loves, reclimb'd the steep Their swords, as with instinctive leap, “What! while our arms can wield these blades, Shall we die tamely ? die alone? Without one victim to our shades, Live in the awe-struck minds of men, 'Till tyrants shudder, when their slaves Tell of the Gheber's bloody glen. Wound slow, as through GOLconda's vale! Glides on with glittering, deadly trail. So oft have, in their wanderings, Look out, and let them pass, as things 1 See floole upon the Story of Sinbad. K Here, at this pass, the scanty band Of Iran's last avengers stand- Had point or prowess, prove them now- They come-a falchion greets each brow, So fierce their toil, hath power to stir, The sword hangs, clogg'd with massacre. Of half-quench'd brands, that o'er the flood What ruin glares! what carnage swims ! From the toss'd brands that round them fly, "Twixt flood and fame in shrieks expire : And some who, grasp'd by those that die, In their dead brethren's gushing gore ! And o'er the dying and the dead, What hope was left for you? for you, Whose swords how keen, how fierce they knew, And burn with shame to find how few. Some found their graves where first they stood; By sudden swell of Jordan's pride' 66 From the wild covert where he lay, And grasps his comrade's arm, now grown And faintly up the pathway leads, Death gaining on each step he treads. Speed them, thou God, who heard'st their vow But whither now? their track is lost, They mount—they bleed-oh save them nowTheir prey escap'd-guide, torches gone The crags are red they've clamber'd o'er, By torrent-beds and labyrinths crost, The rock-weeds dripping with their goreThe scatter'd crowd rush blindly on Thy blade too, HAFED, false at length, “Curse on those tardy lights that wind," Now breaks beneath thy tottering strengthThey panting cry, “so far behind Haste, haste-the voices of the foe Oh for a bloodhound's precious scent, Come near and nearer from below To track the way the Gheber went !" One effort more-thank Heav'n! 'tis past, Vain wish—confusedly along They've gain'd the topmost steep at last. They rush, more desperate as more wrong: And now they touch the temple's walls, Till, wilder'd by the far-off lights, Now Hafen sees the Fire divine Yet glittering up those gloomy heights, When, lo!-his weak, worn comrade falls Their footing, maz'd and lost, they miss, Dead on the threshold of the Shrine. And down the darkling precipice Alas, brave soul, too quickly fled ! Are dash'd into the deep abyss : And must I leave thee withering here, Or midway hang, impal'd on rocks, The sport of every ruffian's tread, A banquet, yet alive, for flocks The mark for every coward's spear ? Of ravening vultures—while the dell No, by yon altar's sacred beams !" He cries, and with a strength that seems Of the fall'n Chief, and tow'rds the flame Bears him along ;-with death-damp hand Upon the steep way breathless thrown, The corpse upon the pyre he lays, He lay beside his reeking blade, Then lights the consecrated brand, Resign'd, as if life's task were o'er, And fires the pile, whose sudden blaze, Ils last blood-offering amply paid, Like lightning bursts o'er Oman's Sea.And Iran's self could claim no more. “Now, Freedom's God! I come to Thee,” One only thought, one lingering beam The youth exclaims, and with a smile Now broke across his dizzy dream Of triumph vaulting on the pile, Of pain and weariness—’twas she In that last effort, ere the fires Have harm'd one glorious limb, expires ! What shriek was that on OMAN's tide ? It came from yonder drifting bark, Her image such enchantment wore. That just has caught upon her side It seem'd as if each thought that stain'd, The death-light-and again is dark. Each fear that chill'd their loves was past, It is the boat-ah, why delay'd ?And not one cloud of earth remain'd That bears the wretched Moslem maid Between him and her glory cast ; Confided to the watchful care As if to charms, before so bright, Of a small veteran band, with whom New grace from other worlds was given, Their generous Chieftain would not share And his soul saw her by the light The secret of his final doom; Now breaking o'er itself from heaven! But hop'd when HINDA, safe and free, Was render'd to her father's eyes, A voice spoke near him—'twas the tone Their pardon, full and prompt, would be Of a lov'd friend, the only one The ransom of so dear a prize. Of all his warriors left with life Unconscious, thus, of HAFED's fate, From that short night's tremendous strife. And proud to guard their beauteous freight, “And must we then, my Chief, die here? Scarce had they clear'd the surfy waves Foes round us, and the Shrine so near ?" That foam around those frightful caves, These words have rous'd the last remains When the curst war-whoops, known so well, Of life within him—"what! not yet Come echoing from the distant dellBeyond the reach of Moslem ehains ?" Sudden each oar, upheld and still, The thought could make e'en Death forget Hung dripping o'er the vessel's side His icy bondage-with a bound And, driving at the current's will, He springs, all bleeding, from the ground, They rock'd along the whispering tide, sorts of wild beasts are wont to harbour themselves, whose While every eye, in mute dismay, being washed out of the covert by the overflowings of the Was tow'rd that fatal mountain turn'd, river, gave occasion to that allusion of Jeremiah, he shall come up like a lion from the swelling of Jordan." ---Maun- Where the dim altar's quivering ray drell's Aleppo. As yet all lone and tranquil burn'd a Oh! 'tis not, HINDA, in the power Of Fancy's most terrific touch, To paint thy pangs in that dread hour Thy silent agony-'twas such As those who feel could paint too well, But none e'er felt and liv'd to tell! 'Twas not alone the dreary state Of a lorn spirit, crush'd by fate, When, though no more remains to dread, The panic chill will not depart ;When, though the inmate Hope be dead, Her ghost still haunts the mouldering heart. No-pleasures, hopes, affections gone, The wretch may bear, and yet live on, Like things within the cold rock found Alive, when all 's congeal'd around. But there's a blank repose in this, A calm stagnation, that were bliss To the keen, burning, harrowing pain, Now felt through all thy breast and brainThat spasm of terror, mute, intense, That breathless, agoniz'd suspense, From whose hot throb, whose deadly aching The heart hath no relief but breaking! Calm is the wave-heav'n's brilliant lights Reflected dance beneath the prow ;Time was when, on such lovely nights, She who is there, so desolate now, Could sit all cheerful, though alone, And ask no happier joy than seeing That star-light o'er the waters thrownNo joy but that to make her blest, And the fresh, buoyant sense of Being That bounds in youth's yet careless breast{tself a star, not borrowing light, But in its own glad essence bright. How different now!-but, hark, again The yell of havoc rings-brave men! in vain, with beating hearts, ye stand On the bark's edge-in vain each hand Half draws the falchion from its sheath; All's o'er-in rust your blades may lie: He, at whose word they've scatter'd death, E'en now, this night, himself must die! Well may ye look to yon dim tower, And ask, and wondering guess what means The battle-cry at this dead hour Ah! she could tell you-she, who leans Unheeded there, pale, sunk, aghast, With brow against the dew-cold mastToo well she knows-her more than life, Her soul's first idol and its last, Lies bleeding in that murderous strife. But see what moves upon the height? Some signal!-'tis a torch's light. What bodes its solitary glare? 'n gasping silence tow'rd the shrine All eyes are turn'd-thine, HINDA, thine Fix their last failing life-beam there. 'Twas but a moment-fierce and high The death-pile blaz'd into the sky, And far away o'er rock and flood Its melancholy radiance sent; While HAFED, like a vision, stood Reveal'd before the burning pyre, |Tall, shadowy, like a Spirit of Fire Shrin'd in its own grand element! Farewell-farewell to thee, ARABY's daughter! How light was thy heart 'till Love's witchery came, Her dark flowing hair for some festival day, Will think of thy fate till, neglecting her tresses, She mournfully turns from the mirror away. Nor shall IRAN, belov'd of her Hero! forget thee,Though tyrants watch over her tears as they start, Close, close by the side of that Hero she'll set thee, Embalm'd in the innermost shrine of her heart. Farewell-be it ours to embellish thy pillow With every thing beauteous that grows in the deep; Each flower of the rock and each gem of the billow Shall sweeten thy bed and illumine thy sleep. Around thee shall glisten the loveliest amber 1 "This wind (the Samoor) so softens the strings of lutes, that they can never be tuned while it lasts."-Stephen's Persia. 2 "One of the greatest curiosities found in the Persiar. Gulf is a fish which the English call Star-fish. It is circular, and at night very luminous, resembling the full moon surrounded by rays."-Mirza Abu Taleb. 3 For a description of the merriment of the date-time, of their work, their dances, and their return home from the palm-groves at the end of autumn with the fruits, see Kempfer, Amanitat, Exot. 4 Some naturalists have imagined that amber is a concretion of the tears of birds.-See Trevoux, Chambers 1 We'll seek where the sands of the Caspian' are ver,' beyond which no pure Hindoo can pass; and sparkling, And gather their gold to strew over thy bed. Farewell-farewell-until Pity's sweet fountain Is lost in the hearts of the fair and the brave, They'll weep for the Chieftain who died on that mountain, were reposing for a time in the rich valley of Hussun Abdaul, which had always been a favourite restingplace of the emperors in their annual migrations to Cashmere. Here often had the Light of the Faith, Jehanguire, wandered with his beloved and beautiful Nourmahal, and here would LALLA ROOKH have been happy to remain for ever, giving up the throne They'll weep for the Maiden who sleeps in this wave. of Bucharia and the world, for FERAMORZ and love in this sweet lonely valley. The time was now fast approaching when she must see him no longer-or see him with eyes whose every look belonged to another; and there was a melancholy preciousness in these last moments, which made her heart cling to them as it would to life. During the latter part of bling, she often thought, that people of Zinge, who attribute the unfading cheerfulness they enjoy to one genial star that rises nightly over their heads.* THE singular placidity with which FADLADEEN had listened, during the latter part of this obnoxious story, surprised the Princess and FERAMORZ exceedingly; and even inclined towards him the hearts of these unsuspicious young persons, who little knew the journey, indeed, she had sunk into a deep sadness, the source of a complacency so marvellous. The from which nothing but the presence of the young truth was, he had been organizing, for the last few minstrel could awake her. Like those lamps in days, a most notable plan of persecution against the tombs, which only light up when the air is admitted, poet, in consequence of some passages that had fal- it was only at his approach that her eyes became len from him on the second evening of recital, which smiling and animated. But here, in this dear valley, appeared to this worthy Chamberlain to contain lan- every moment was an age of pleasure; she saw him guage and principles, for which nothing short of the all day, and was, therefore, all day happy-resemsummary criticism of the Chabuk2 would be advisable. It was his intention, therefore, immediately on their arrival at Cashmere, to give information to the king of Bucharia of the very dangerous sentiments The whole party, indeed, seemed in their liveliest of his minstrel; and if, unfortunately, that monarch mood during the few days they passed in this delightdid not act with suitable vigour on the occasion, (that ful solitude. The young attendants of the Princess, is, if he did not give the Chabuk to FERAMORZ, and who were here allowed a freer range than they could a place to FADLADEEN,) there would be an end, he safely be indulged with in a less sequestered place, feared, of all legitimate government in Bucharia. He ran wild among the gardens, and bounded through could not help, however, auguring better both for the meadows, lightly as young roes over the aromatic himself and the cause of potentates in general; and plains of Tibet. While FADLADEEN, beside the spiit was the pleasure arising from these mingled antici- ritual comfort he derived from a pilgrimage to the pations that diffused such unusual satisfaction through his features, and made his eyes shine out, like poppies of the desert, over the wide and lifeless wilderness of that countenance. tomb of the Saint from whom the valley is named, had opportunities of gratifying, in a small way, his taste for victims, by putting to death some hundreds of those unfortunate little lizards, which all pious Having decided upon the Poet's chastisement in Mussulmans make it a point to kill;-taking for this manner, he thought it but humanity to spare him granted, that the manner in which the creature hangs the minor tortures of cracism. Accordingly, when its head is meant as a mimicry of the attitude in they assembled next evening in the pavilion, and which the Faithful say their prayers! LALLA ROOKH expected to see all the beauties of her About two miles from Hussun Abdaul were those bard melt away, one by one, in the acidity of criti- Royal Gardens, which had grown beautiful under the cism, like pearls in the cup of the Egyptian Queen-care of so many lovely eyes, and were beautiful still, the agreeably disappointed her by merely saying, with though those eyes could see them no longer. This an ironical smile, that the merits of such a poem de- place, with its flowers and its holy silence, interrupted served to be tried at a much higher tribunal; and then only by the dipping of the wings of birds in its marsuddenly passing off into a panegyr.c upon all Mus-, ble basins filled with the pure water of those hills, sulman sovereigns, more particularly his august and was to LALLA ROOKH all that her heart could fancy imperial master, Aurungzebe-the wisest and best of of fragrance, coolness, and almost heavenly tranthe descendants of Timur-who, among other great quillity. As the Prophet said of Damascus, "it was things he had done for mankind, had given to him, too delicious;"-and here, in listening to the sweet FADLADEEN, the very profitable posts of Betel-car-voice of FERAMORZ, or reading in his eyes what yet rier and Taster of Sherbets to the Emperor, Chief he never dared to tell her, the most exquisite moments Holder of the Girdle of Beautiful Forms, and Grand Nazir, or Chamberlain of the Haram. They were now not far from that forbidden ri 1"The bay of Kieselarke, which is otherwise called the Golden Bay, the sand whereof shines as fire."-Struy. 2 "The application of whips or rods.”—Dubois. 3 Kempfer mentions such an officer among the attendants of the King of Persia, and calls him, "forma corporis estimator." His business was, at stated periods, to measure the ladies of the Haram by a sort of regulation girdle, whose of her whole life were passed. One evening, when they had been talking of the Sultana Nourmahal— the Light of the Haram,' who had so often wandered limits it was not thought graceful to exceed. If any of 2 The star Soheil, or Canopus. 3 Nourmahal signities Light of the Haram. She was afterwards called Nourjehan, or the Light of the World. among these flowers, and fed with her own hands, in | But never yet, by night or day, 'Twas when the hour of evening came Upon the Lake, serene and cool, THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. When Day had hid his sultry flame Behind the palms of BARAMOULE.” When maids began to lift their heads, Who has not heard of the Vale of CASHMERE, Refresh'd, from their embroider'd beds, With its roses, the brightest that earth ever gave,? Where they had slept the sun away, On BELA's hills is less alive Its splendour at parting a summer eve throws, Than look'd the Valley at that hour. A last look of her mirror at night ere she goes ! Through every grove and island shade; When the shrines through the foliage are gleaming A thousand sparkling lamps were set half shown, On every dome and minaret; Here the magian his urn full of perfume is swinging, That you could see, in wandering round, Their veils at home, that brilliant eve; That never did the summer bring And Day, with his banner of radiance unfurl'd, The Lake, too, like a garden breathes, Had fall'n upon it from the sky! 1 See note, p. 65. And then the sounds of joy—the beat 2 " The rose of Kashmire, for its brilliancy and delicacy Of tabors and of dancing feet ;of colour has long been proverbial in the East."- Forster. 3 “ lied round her waist the zone of bells, that sounded 1 " The Feast of Roses continues the whole time of their with ravishing melody."--Song of Jayadeva. remaining in bloom."-See Pietro de la Valle. 4 "The little isles in the Lake of Cachemire are set with 2“ Gui sad berk, the Rose of a hundred leaves. I believe arbours and large-leaved aspen-trees, slender and tall."- a particular species.”-Ouseley. Bernier. 3 Bernier. 5 "The Turkt Suliman, the name bestowed by the Ma- 4 A place mentioned in the Toozek Jehangeery, or Mehometans on this hill, forms one side of a grand portal to moirs of Jehanguire, where there is an account of the beds the Lake."- Forster. of saffron flowers about Cashmere |