1080 As filed the roop to where they fell! He died too in the battle broil, A time that heels nor pain nor toil; One cry to Mahomet for aid, One prayer to Alla all he made: He knew and cross'd me in the fray I gazed upon him where he lay, And watch'd his spirit ebb away: Though pierced like pard by hunters' steel, He felt not half that now I feel. I search'd, but vainly search'd, to find 1090 The cold in clime are cold in blood, That boils in Etna's breast of flame. ΠΟΙ 1110 I die- but first I have possess'd, 1120 She was a form of life and light, 'Yes, Love indeed is light from heaven; A spark of that immortal fire With angels shared, by Alla given, 1130 To lift from earth our low desire. Devotion wafts the mind above, But Heaven itself descends in love; A feeling from the Godhead caught, To wean from self each sordid thought; A Ray of him who form'd the whole; A Glory circling round the soul! I grant my love imperfect, all That mortals by the name miscall; Then deem it evil, what thou wilt; But say, oh say, hers was not guilt! She was my life's unerring light: That quench'd, what beam shall break my night? Oh! would it shone to lead me still, Although to death or deadliest ill! Why marvel ye, if they who lose This present joy, this future hope, No more with sorrow meekly cope; In phrensy then their fate accuse; In madness do those fearful deeds That seem to add but guilt to woe? Alas! the breast that inly bleeds [140 1150 Hath nought to dread from outward blow: Who falls from all he knows of bliss, Cares little into what abyss. Fierce as the gloomy vulture's now To thee, old man, my deeds appear: 1160 I read abhorrence on thy brow, And this too was I born to bear! 1170 Such shame at least was never mine- For worlds I dare not view the dame 1180 1190 And she was lost and yet I breathed, But not the breath of human life: A serpent round my heart was wreathed, And stung my every thought to strife. Alike all time abhorr'd, all place, Shuddering I shrunk from Nature's face, Where every hue that charm'd before The blackness of my bosom wore. The rest thou dost already know, And all my sins, and half my woe. But talk no more of penitence; Thou see'st I soon shall part from hence: And if thy holy tale were true, -- The deed that's done canst thou undo? But soothe not- mock not my distress! 1200 1210 1218 In earlier days, and calmer hours, When heart with heart delights to blend, Where bloom my native valley's bowers I had Ah! have I now? - a friend! To him this pledge I charge thee send, Memorial of a youthful vow; I would remind him of my end: Though souls absorb'd like mine allow Brief thought to distant friendship's claim, Yet dear to him my blighted name. "T is strange he prophesied my doom, And I have smiled - I then could smileWhen Prudence would his voice assume, And warn-I reck'd not what-the while: 1231 But now remembrance whispers o'er Those accents scarcely mark'd before. Say that his bodings came to pass, And he will start to hear their truth, Through many a busy bitter scene In pain, my faltering tongue had tried 1240 But Heaven in wrath would turn away, I do not ask him not to blame, 'Tell me no more of fancy's gleam, "T was then, I tell thee, father! then 1250 1260 1270 1280 1290 And rushing from my couch, I dart, 1300 I knew 't was false she could not die ! But he is dead! within the dell 1310 1320 1330 II Begirt with many a gallant slave Deep thought was in his aged eye; His pensive cheek and pondering brow Did more than he was wont avow. III 20 30 'Let the chamber be clear'd.' The train disappear'd 'Now call me the chief of the Haram guard.' With Giaffir is none but his only son, And the Nubian awaiting the sire's award. 'Haroun when all the crowd that wait Are pass'd beyond the outer gate (Woe to the head whose eye beheld My child Zuleika's face unveil'd !), Hence, lead my daughter from her tower; Her fate is fix'd this very hour: Pacha! to hear is to obey.' 40 First lowly rendering reverence meet; And downeast look'd, and gently spake, Still standing at the Pacha's feet: For son of Moslem must expire, Ere dare to sit before his sire! 50 81 'Son of a slave,' the Pacha said, 'From unbelieving mother bred, Vain were a father's hope to see Aught that beseems a man in thee. Thou, when thine arm should bend the bow, And hurl the dart, and curb the steed, Thou, Greek in soul if not in creed, Must pore where babbling waters flow, And watch unfolding roses blow. Would that yon orb, whose matin glow Thy listless eyes so much admire, Would lend thee something of his fire! Thou, who wouldst see this battlement By Christian cannon piecemeal rent; Nay, tamely view old Stambol's wall Before the dogs of Moscow fall, Nor strike one stroke for life and death Against the curs of Nazareth! 100 Go let thy less than woman's hand If thus Zuleika oft takes wing- Son of a slave!-and who my sire?' Thus held his thoughts their dark career; And glances ev'n of more than ire Flash forth, then faintly disappear. Old Giaffir gazed upon his son And started; for within his eye He read how much his wrath had done; He saw rebellion there begun. 'Come hither, boy what, no reply? I mark thee and I know thee too; But there be deeds thou dar'st not do: But if thy beard had manlier length, And if thy hand had skill and strength, I'd joy to see thee break a lance, Albeit against my own perchance.' As sneeringly these accents fell, On Selim's eye he fiercely gazed: That eye return'd him glance for glance, And proudly to his sire's was raised, Till Giaffir's quail'd and shrunk askance And why he felt, but durst not tell. 'Much I misdoubt this wayward boy Will one day work me more annoy. I never loved him from his birth, And but his arm is little worth, And scarcely in the chase could cope With timid fawn or antelope, Far less would venture into strife Where man contends for fame and life I would not trust that look or tone: No, nor the blood so near my own. That blood he hath not heard more I'll watch him closer than before. no Like Houris' hymn it meets mine ear: She is the offspring of my choice; Oh! more than ev'n her mother dear, With all to hope, and nought to fear Such to my longing sight art thou; Nor can they waft to Mecca's shrine More thanks for life, than I for thine, Who blest thy birth and bless thee now.' 120 130 140 151 |