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There is something very unnatural, and to us very disgusting, in this affection, half pure, half sensual, of Zuleika's; and the declaration of it at p. 20, is particularly offensive. At night she goes to the appointed grotto in the garden, and finds her quondam brother, her present lover, in the disguise of a sailor's

From him she learns, that her father Giaffir, and his father, Abdallah, were brothers, and that Abdallah had been poisoned by the order of Giatfir, for the sake of his Pachalick. Himself, then a child, was spared, in some fit of remorse or natural feeling, and with him Haroun, a harain guard. Bred up, however, as Giaffir's son, he was yet jealously watched, confined in the palace, and debarred all manly exercises and accomplishments. But once, in the absence of Giaffir, Haroun had permitted him to wander forth upon his parole; and he had joined the pirates that infested the islands of the Archipelago. To these he was purposing to return; a boat was waiting to carry him oft, and he invites Zuleika to share with him in this blessed state of liberty. Just, however, as they are going off, they are surprized by flambeaux and all the signs of pursuit: he fires a pistol, as a signal to the boat; the boat appears, and he has fought his way to it, and is just stepping into it, when a bullet, from the carbine of Giaffir, lays him dead upon the beach. Zuleika had fainted and died, when her lover left the cave.

Such is the story which is very spiritedly told by Lord Byron, though, we think, with pot quite so much strength of poetry, as is to be found in the Romaunt,' or the Giaour. There are, however, very beautiful passages to be quoted.

The opening of the poem contains a rich description of eastern landscape, though we could have wished that the images in the four first lines had given place to others less finical and unnatural. Indeed, the lines might be advantageously struck out.

• Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle

Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime,
Where the rage of the vulture -- the love of the turtle

Now melt into sorrownow inadden to crime?-
Know ye the land of the cedar and vine?
Where the flowers ever blossom, 'the beams ever shine,
Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppressed with perfume,
Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gúl in her bloom
Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit,
Ahd the voice of the nightingale never is mute;
Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky,
In colour though varied, in beauty may vie,
And the purple of Ocean is deepest in die;
Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine,
And all, save the spirit of man, is divine-
'Tis the clime of the east'tis the land of the Sun-'p. 1.

We may add to this, the effect of such scenery on a youthful und susceptible mind.

I « So lovelily the morning shone,

" That- let the old and weary sleep
I could not; and to view alone
“ The fairest scenes of land and deep,

With none to listen and reply
# To thoughts with which my heart beat high
it Were irksome-for whate'er my mood,
« In sooth I love not solitude :
& I on Zuleika's slumber broke,

“ And, as thou knowest that for me

«« Soon turns the Haram's grating key,
" Before the guardian slaves awoke
d+ We to the cypress groves had flown,
* And made earth, main, and heaven our own!”' p. 4.
* “ 'Tis vain-my tongue can not impart
* My almost drunkenness of heart,
* When first this liberated

eye
" Surveyed Earth-Ocean-Sun and Sky!
" As if my spirit pierced them through,
d. And all their inmost wonders knew
u One word alone can paint to thee
« That more than feeling--I was free!
* E'en for thy presence ceased to pine,

^ The World-nay-Heaven itself was mine!"'p. 42. The most spirited part of the poem, however, is the conclusion, The death of Selim is brought immediately beneath the eye of the reader.

· But ere her lip, or even her eye,
Essayed to speak, or look reply-
Beneath the garden's wicket porch
Far flashed on high a blazing torch!
Another—and another and another
“Oh! Ay-no more-yet now my more than brother!"
Far-wide through every thicket spread
The fearful lights are gleaming red;
Nor these alone for each right hand
Is ready with a sheathless brand :-
They part, pursue, return, and wheel
With searching flambeau, shining steel;
And last of all his sabre waving,
Stern Giaffir in his fury raving,
And now almost they touch the cave.
Oh! must that grot be Selim's grave?
• Dauntless he stood“ 'Tis come-soon past-
« One kiss, Zuleike-'tis my last;

“ But yet my band not far from shore
* May hear his signal-see the flash-
“ Yet now too few--the attempt were rash-

“ No matter--yet one effort more.”
Forth to the cavern mouth he stept,

His pistol's echo rang on high,' pp. 49-50.
• One bound he made, and gained the sand

Already at his feet hath sunk
The foremost of the prying band

A gasping head, a quivering trunk;
Another falls—but round him close
A swarming circle of his foes :
From right to left his path he cleft,

And almost met the meeting wave;
His boat appears--not five oars' length-
His comrades strain with desperate strength-

Oh! are they yet in time to save ?

His feet the foremost breakers lave,
His band are plunging in the bay,
Their sabres glitter through the sprays
Wet-wild- unwearied to the strand
They struggle—now they touch the land!
They come'tis but to add to slaughter

His heart's best blood is on the water !' p. 51. The desolation and distress disclosed by the dawning liglit are painted in the author's strongest manner.

• Morn slowly rolls the clouds away

Few trophies of the fight are there
The shouts that shook the midnight-bay
Are silent-but some signs of fray

That strand of strife may bear
And fragments of each shivered brand
Steps stamped-and dashed into the sand
The print of many a struggling hand
May there be marked-nor far remote
A broken torch-an oarless boat-
And tangled on the weeds that heap
The beach where shelving to the deep
There lies & white Capote !
'Tis rent in twain-one dark-red stain
The wave yet ripples o'er in vain-

But where is he who wore?
Ye! who would o'er his relics weep
Go-seek them where the surges sweep
Their burthen round Sigæum's steep

And cast on Lemnos' shore:
The sea-birds shriek above the prey,
O'er which their hungry beaks delay-
As shaken on his restless pillow,
His head heaven with the heaving billow

Chat handwhose motion is not life-
Yet feebly seems to menace strife
Flung by the tossing tide on high,

Then levelled with the wave-
What recks it? though that corse shall lio

Within a living grave?' pp. 534. We think the reader will agree with us that the wild versification of the following passage is admirably fitted to the mouraful subject.

By Helle's stream there is a voice of wail !
And woman's eye is wet-man's cheek is pale
Zuleika! last of Giaftir's race,

Thy destin'd lord is come too late-
He sees not

ne'er shall see thy face!

Can he not hear
The loud Wul-wulleh warn his distant ear?

Thy handmaids weeping at the gate,
The Koran-chaunters of the hymn of fate

The silent slaves with folded arms that wait,
Sighs in the hall and shrieks upon the gale,

Tell him thy tale!
Thou didst not view thy Selim fall!
That fearful moment when he left the cave

Thy heart grew chill-
He was thy hope thy joy--thy love thine all
And that last thought on him thou could'st not save-

Sufficed to kill
Burst forth in one wild cry-and all was still

Peace to thy broken heart and virgin grave!' p. 55-6 The conclusion is very pleasing and romantic. A single rose, says the poet, flourishes by the tomb of the lovely Luleika; and near it, every night, is heard ' a bird unseen." '

• It were the Bulbul-but bis throat,

Though mournful, pours not such a strain ,
For they who listen cannot leave
The spot, but linger there and grieve

As if they loved in vain!
And yet so sweet the tears they shed,

'Tis sorrow so unmixed with dread,
They scarce can bear the morn to break

That melancholy spell,
And longer yet would weep and wako,

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,

Yet harsh be they that blame,

That note so piercing and profound
Will shape and syllable its sound

Into Zuleika's name.
'Tis from her cypress' summit heard,
That melts in air the liquid word
'Tis from her lowly virgin carth
That white rose takes its tender birth.
There late was laid a marble stone,
Eve saw it placed—the Morrow gone!
It was no mortal arm that bore
That deep-fixed pillow to the shore;
For there, as Helle's legends tell,
Next morn 'twas found where Selim fell
Lashed by the tumbling tide, whose wave
Denied his bones a holier grave
And there by night, reclin'd, 'tis said,
Is seen a ghastly

turban'd head-
And hence extended by the billow,
'Tis named the “ Pirate-phantom's pillow !"
Where first it lay—that mourning flower
Hath flourished-flourisheth this hour
Alone--and dewy-coldly pure and pale-

As weeping Beauty's cheek at Sorrow's tale ! pp. 58-60. We must not close without just noticing the frequent embarrassment and complication of the author's style. The reader will have seen something of it in the passages already quoted; it appears to proceed from haste.

How ungrammatical, ungraceful, and obscure are the following passages !

• “ Pacha! to hear is to obey.--"
No more must slave to despot say--
Then to the tower had ta'en his way,
But here young Selim silence brake,' p. 3.
« « Father !—for fear that thou should'st chide
“ My sister, or her sable guide-
" Know-for the fault, if fault there be,
“ Was mine-then fall thy frowns on me!' p. 3.
* With cautious steps the thicket threading,

And starting ott, as through the glade
The gust its hollow moanings made,
Till on ihe smoother pathway treading,
More free her timid bosom beat,

The maid pursued her silent guide;' p. 30, Every thing that in any way impedes the progress of the reader, helps to destroy the effect of the passage. The spiritedness of Scott is never lost by a want of intelligibility, that of Campbell is but too frequently.

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