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Sighs in the hall, and shrieks upon the gale,
Tell him thy, tale!
1115 That fearful moment when he left the cave
Thy heart grew chill: He was thy hope—thy joy—thy love-thine allAnd that last thought on him thou could'st not save Sufficed to kill :
1120 Burst forth in one wild cry-and all was still.
Peace to thy broken heart, and virgin grave! Ah! happy! but of life to lose the worst ! That grief—though deep-though fatal—was thy first! Thrice happy! ne'er to feel nor fear the force 1125 Of absence, shame, pride, hate, revenge, remorse! And oh! that pang where more than Madness lies! The worm that will not sleep-and never dies ; Thought of the gloomy day and ghastly night, 1129 That dreads the darkness, and yet loathes the light, That winds around, and tears the quivering heart! Ah! wherefore not consume it-and depart!
Wo to thee, rash and unrelenting chief!
Vainly thou heap'st the dust upon thy head, Vainly the sackcloth o'er thy limbs dost spread :
By that same hand Abdallah-Selim bled. 1136 Now let it tear thy beard in idle grief: Thy pride of heart, thy bride for Osman's bed, She, whom thy sultan had but seen to wed,
Thy Daughter's dead!
1140 Hope of thine age, thy twilight's lonely beam,
The Star hath set that shone on Helle's stream. What quench'd its ray ?-the blood that thou hast shed! Hark! to the hurried question of Despair 1144 Where is my child ?" an Echo answers“ –Where?” (42)
XXXVIII. Within the place of thousand tombs
That shine beneath, while dark above The sad but living cypress glooms
And withers not, though branch and leaf
Like early unrequited love,
Ev’n in that deadly grovem
Its lonely lustre, meek and pale : It looks as planted by Despair
So white-so faint-the slightest gale Might whirl the leaves on high;
And yet, though storms and blight assail, And hands more rude than wintry sky
May wring it from the stem-in vain
To-morrow sees it bloom again! The stalk some spirit gently rears, And waters with celestial tears;
For well may maids of Helle deem
That this can be no earthly flower,
1170 To it the livelong night there sings
A bird unseen-but not remote :
1175 It were the Bulbul ; but his throat,
Though mournful, pours not such a strain :
1180 And yet so sweet the tears they shed, 'Tis sorrow so unmix'd with dread, They scarce can bear the morn to break
That melancholy spell, And longer yet would weep
and wake, 1185 He sings so wild and well! But when the day-blush bursts from high Expires that magic melody. And some have been who could believe, (So fondly youthful dreams deceive,
1190 Yet harsh be they that blame) That note so piercing and profound Will shape and syllable its sound
Into Zuleika's name. (43)
"Tis from her cypress' summit heard,
Hath flourish'd; flourisheth this hour,
The Bride of Abydos.
Note 1, page 9, line 8.
Note 2, page 9, line 17.
“Souls made of fire and children of the Sun,
Note 3, page 12, line 2.
With Mejnoun's tale, or Sadi's song. Mejnoun and Leila, the Romeo and Juliet of the East. Sadi, the moral poet of Persia.
Note 4, page 12, line 3.
Till I, who heard the deep tambour. Tambour, Turkish drum, which sounds at sunrise, noon, and twilight.
Note 5, page 14, line 21.
He is an Arab to my sight. The Turks abhor the Arabs (who return the compli