LIBRARY I 
 
 ANNEX 
 
 in. 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 ^g|yg 
 
 1 
 
 m%€'mM 
 
 
 
 %. "--^- ^ 
 
 
 ;f/::.--:-j'; , 
 
CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PR 5054.L19 1860 
 
 Lalla Rookh:an oriental romance. With ill 
 
 3 1924 013 527 068 
 

 Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tiiis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013527068 
 
' Fiercely he biuki, aw.i\ nor sLtip^i'd, 
 Nor locjk'd — bub from the lattice drop|i''i 
 D(jwn 'mid the pointed crag.s beiieath, 
 A^ if he fled from Iuvil tu death." P. i:. 
 
LALLA ROOKH: 
 
 AN ORIENTAL ROMANCE. 
 
 MY 
 
 THOMAS MOORE. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS, 
 
 ENGKAVED BY EDMUND EVANS, 
 
 KROM ORIGINAL llRAWlWiS BV G. 11. THOMAS, 1'. R. I'lCKliRSGlLI., R.A., 
 BIRKET FOSTER, E. II. COBEOL'LU, 
 ETC., EIC. 
 
 LONDON 
 
 ROUTLBDGE, WARNE, & ROUTLEDGE, FARRINGDOn}.; 
 
 NEW YORK : 56, WALKER STREET. 
 1860. 
 
PR 
 
 Ks^xGo^' 
 
 \ 
 
 LONDON : 
 i'ltlNTEU UY EDMUND EVAXy 
 
 UAt^UET COnRT, 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 •ENGRAVED BY EDMUND EVANS. 
 
 Frontispiece 
 
 DRAWN BY 
 F. R. PiCKERSGILL, R.A. 
 
 THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 
 
 The procession moved slowly on the road to Lahore 
 
 The young Cashmerian held in his Juvnd a kitar . 
 
 There, on that throne, to which the blind helief 
 Of millions rais'd him, sat the Prophet-Chi^ . 
 
 The pomp is at an end — the crowds are gone 
 
 Fond maid, the sorrow of her sotd was such, 
 jErp'm reason sunk hUghted beneath its touch 
 
 Upon Ms couch the Veil'd Mokanna lay . 
 
 He raia'd his Veil — the maid turned slowly round. 
 Looked at him — shriek' dr^-and sunk upon the ground 
 
 And here, at once, the gUtterimg saloon 
 
 Bursts on his sight, boundless and bright as noon 
 
 Which, once or twice, she touch'd with hurried strain, 
 Then took her tremblmg fingers off again 
 
 " Oh! curse me not!" she cried, as wild he toss'd 
 His desperate hand towards heaven 
 
 William Haevey 
 HablotK. Bbow.vk 
 
 William Harvey 
 G. H. Thomas . 
 
 G. H. Thomas . 
 Do. 
 
 Do. 
 Thomas Mac quo id 
 G. H. Thomas . 
 
 Do. 
 
 21 
 28 
 
LIST OP ILLUSTRA'l'K>NS, 
 
 THE VEILED PROPHET OP KHORASiiA'Hi—i-oidui/ieJ. 
 
 JVltose arc the gilded tents that crowd the «' /// / 
 
 .hid they beheld an orb, nuiple and bright, 
 liiue from the HoUj Welt 
 
 And led her glitterinij forth before the eye» 
 Of his rude train, as to a sacrijire 
 
 And, caftitK/ off the ceil in fallimj, shows — 
 Oh ! 'tis hin Zelica's life-blood that flows 
 
 " Whi<t critic that can count," said F<idladeci' 
 
 DEAWN UY 
 G. H. TiiOMAy , 
 
 Pl. P, Leitch 
 
 G. H. Thomvm 
 
 Do. 
 Habi.ot K. Browne 
 
 PARADISE AND THE PERI. 
 
 One morn, a Fun at the gate 
 Of Ed Pit stood, disconsolate 
 
 Fiilxr few the shaft, though pointed n-ell ; 
 The fi/rant Uc^d, the hero fell 
 
 One kiss the maiden gives — one last. 
 Long I'lSH, vhich she expires in giving 
 
 JJlien, yonng and haply jmre us thou, 
 I look'd and prafd like ihee—lmf tww 
 
 Kl'.NNV Meadou's 
 
 v. R. PlCKERSGII-l,, R.A. 
 
 Haulot K. Browne 
 
 Al a distance stood the ruins of a strange and aufnl- 
 
 looking fairer Rirkkt Foster 
 
 THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 
 
 'Tie nioonlighf over Oman^s Sen 
 Fearless from crag to crag he leaps 
 
 R. P. Li-.iTcii 
 BlUKUT FoyxKR 
 
 " Here, maiden, look—weej>- -bbit-h to see 
 All thai thy aire abhors in me ! " 
 
 The morn hath risen clear and calm, 
 And o'er the Green Sea palely shines 
 
 Around its base the bare rocks stood, 
 Like naked giants, in the flood 
 
 E. H. OORBOUI.iJ 
 
 William JIarvky 
 
 lirKKKT FOHTKH 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS— ^oBi/HMCf/. 
 
 " Up, daughfer, up ! " 
 
 The day i» lowering 
 
 And Bnatch'd her breathless from beneath 
 This wilderment qf wreck and death 
 
 The distcmt moan 
 Of the hycBTui, ^fierce and lone 
 
 " Hinda!''' — Uiat toord was all he spoke . 
 
 " J pray thee, as thou lov'st me,jly!'" 
 
 That plvmge into the water 
 Gives signal for the work of slaughter 
 
 Then sprmng, as if to reach that blaze, 
 Where still she fix' d her dying gaze 
 
 But here, in this dear valley, every moment was an age 
 of pleasure 
 
 DBAWN BY 
 
 PAGIi 
 
 E. H. COEBODLD 
 
 175 
 
 SiMUEl PaLMBK 
 
 180 
 
 B. H. COKBOULD 
 
 . 188 
 
 Harbison Wbib 
 
 194 
 
 B. H. COEBOUI-D 
 
 202 
 
 Do. 
 
 210 
 
 BiBKKT FOSTEK 
 
 Geokgb Dodgbon 
 
 233 
 
 THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 
 
 'Twos when the Jioit/r of evening came. 
 Upon the Lake, serene and cool 
 
 ' Tis the kon/r 
 That scatters spells on herb amd flower 
 
 To-morrow the dreams a/nd flowers will fade 
 
 With a voluptuous wildnesa flings 
 Her snowy hand across the strings 
 
 Starting, he daah'd away the cup, 
 Mis hand had held, untasted, up 
 
 BiBKET FOSTEB 
 
 iiii 
 
 William Hahvey 
 
 248 
 
 Do. 
 
 . 263 
 
 // was Feramorz 
 
 that stood before her 
 
 Kenny Meadows 
 
 William Habtet 
 G. H. Thomas 
 
 2GS 
 
 274 
 
LALLA ROOKH. 
 
 In the eleventli year of the reign of Aiirungzebe, AbSalla, 
 King of the Lesser Bucharia, a lineal descendant ffom the 
 Great Zingis, haying abdicated the throne in favour of his son, 
 set out on a pilgrimage to the Shrine of the Prophet; and, 
 passing into India through the delightful valley of Cashmere, 
 rested for a short time at Delhi on his way. He was enter- 
 tained by Aurungzebe in a style of magnificent hospitahty, 
 worthy aUke of the visitor and the host, and was afterwards 
 escorted with the same splendour to Surat, where he embarked 
 for Arabia. Duriag the stay of the Royal Pilgrim at Delhi, a 
 maiTiage was agreed upon between the Prince, his son, and the 
 youngest daughter of the Emperor, Lalla Rookh,* — a Princess 
 described by the poets of her time, as more beautiful than Leda, 
 Shirine, Dewild^, or any of those heroines whose names and 
 loves embellish the songs of Persia and Hindostan. It was 
 intended that the nuptials should be celebrated at Cashmere ; 
 where the young King, as soon as the cares of empire would 
 permit, was to meet, for the first time, his lovely bride, and, 
 after a few months' repose in that enchanting valley, conduct 
 her over the snowy hills into Bucharia. 
 
 * Tulip cheek. 
 
LALLA UOOKH. 
 
 The day of Lalla Rookh's departm^e from Delhi was as 
 splendid as sunshine and pageantry could make it. The hazaars 
 and baths were all covered ^vith the richest tapestry ; hundreds 
 of gilded barges upon the Jumna floated with their banners 
 shining in the water ; while through the streets groups of 
 beautiful children went strewing the most delicious flowers 
 around, as ia that Persian festival called the Scattering of the 
 Roses ; * till every part of the city was as fragrant as if a 
 caravan of musk from Kloten had passed through it. The 
 Princess, having taken leave of her kind father, who at parting 
 hung a cornelian of Yemen round her neck, on which was 
 inscribed a verse from the Koran, — and having sent a conside- 
 rable present to the Fakirs, who kept up the Perpetual Lamp 
 in her sister's tomb, meekly ascended the palankeen prepared for 
 her ; and, while Aurungzebe stood to take a last look from his 
 balcony, the procession moved slowly qn the road to Lahore. 
 
 Seldom had the Eastern world seen a cavalcade so superb. 
 From the gardens in the subui'bs to the Imperial palace, it was 
 one unbroken line of splendour. The gallant appearance of the 
 Rajas and Mognil lords, distinguished by those insignia of the 
 Emperor's favour, the feathers of the egret of Cashmere in their 
 turbans, and the small silver-rimmed kettle-drums at the bows 
 of their saddles ; — the costly armour of their cavaliers, who vied, 
 on this occasion, with the guards of the great Keder E[han, in 
 the brightness of their silver battle-axes and the massiness of 
 their maces of gold ; — the glittering of the gilt pine-apples on 
 the tops of the palankeens ; — the embroidered trappings of the 
 elephants, bearing on their backs small turrets, in the shape of 
 little antique temples, within which the ladies of Lalla Rookh 
 lay, as it were, enshrined; — the rose-coloui-ed veils of the 
 
 • GulBc;izeo. 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 fH'i^v^-A^' 
 
 f^lSfSi^- iz^JilCS 
 
 'U 
 
 M^\%& 
 
 Princess's own sumptuous litter, 4^ 
 at the front of -wHch a fair % 
 young female slave sat fanning *^ 
 her through the curtains, with ' \ 
 
 feathers of the Argus phea- JJ->fi9^ 
 / sant's wing; — and the lovely 
 troop of ■ Tartarian and 
 
 Cashmerian maids of ho- * 
 
 I \ 
 
 \ nour, whom the young J-. 
 
 Bang had sent to accom- \. 
 
 pany his bride, and who ((Z 
 
 rode on each side of the '■'^ 
 
 litter, upon small Arabian j^ 
 
 horses ; — aU was brilliant. L 
 
 W,T-, 
 
 iAv 
 
 wm 
 
 •?/Sb 
 
 
 Vi '-%m<i,' 
 
 ^J^^ 
 
 m 
 
 ?=i^\ 
 
 J^'A 
 
 'a 
 
 fih 
 
 iJki 
 
 ",r 
 
 a^'a; 
 
 * 
 
 
 'I 
 
 KV < 
 
LALLA KODKfl. 
 
 tasteful, and magnificent, and pleased even the critical and 
 fastidious Fadladeen, Great Nazir or Chamberlain of the Haram, 
 who was borne in his palankeen immediately after the Princess, 
 and considered himself not the least important personage of the 
 pageant. 
 
 Fadladeen was a judge of everything, — from the pencilling 
 of a Circassian's eye-lids to the deepest questions of science and 
 literature ; from the mixture of a conserve of rose-leaves to the 
 composition of an epic poem : and such influence had his opinion 
 upon the various tastes of the day, that all the cooks and poets 
 of DeUai stood in awe of him. His poUtical conduct and opinions 
 were founded upon that line of Sadi, — " Should the Prince at 
 noon-day say. It is night, declare that you behold the moon and 
 stars." — And his zeal for religion, of which Aurungzebe was a 
 . munificent protector, was about as disinterested as that of the 
 goldsmith who fell in love with the diamond eyes of the idol 
 of Jaghemaut. 
 
 During the first daj's of their journey, Lalla Eookh, who 
 had passed all her life within the shadow of the Royal Gardens 
 of Delhi, found enough in the beauty of the scenery through 
 which they passed to interest her mind and delight her imagi- 
 nation ; and when, at evening or in the heat of the day, they 
 turned off from the high road to those retired and romantic 
 places which had been selected for her encampments, — sometimes 
 on the banks of a small rivulet, as clear as the waters of the 
 Lake of Pearl ; sometimes under the sacred shade of a banyan- 
 tree, from whicl^ tlie view opened upon a glade covered with 
 antelopes ; and often in those hidden, embowered spots, described 
 by one from tlie Isles of the West, as " places of melancholy, 
 delight, and safety, where all the company around was wild 
 peacocks and turtle-doves ;" — she felt a charm in these scenes. 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 SO lovely and so new to her, wliich, for a time, made lier indif- 
 ferent to every other amusement. But Lalla Rookh was young, 
 and the young love variety ; nor could the conversation of her 
 ladies and the Great Chamberlain, Eadladeen (the only persons, 
 of course, admitted to her pavilion) sufficiently enUven those 
 many vacant hours, which were devoted neither to the pillow 
 nor the palankeen. There was a little Persian slave who sung 
 sweetly to the Vina, and who, now and then, lulled the Princess 
 to sleep with the ancient ditties of her country, about the loves 
 of Wamak and Ezra, the fair-haired Zal and his mistress Ro- 
 dahver; not forgetting the combat of Rustam with the terrible 
 White Demon. At other times she was amused by those 
 graceful dancing-girls of Delhi, who had been permitted by the 
 Branoins of the Great Pagoda to attend her, much to the horror 
 of the good Mussulman Padladeen, who could see nothing grace- . 
 fill or agreeable in idolaters, and to whom the very tinkling of 
 their golden anklets was an abomination. 
 
 But these and many other diversions were repeated till they 
 lost all their charm, and the nights and noon-days were be- 
 ginning to move heavily, when, at length, it was recollected 
 that, among the attendants sent by the bridegroom, was a young 
 poet of Cashmere, much celebrated throughout the Valley for his 
 manner of reciting the stories of the East, on whom his Royal 
 Master had conferred the privilege of being admitted to the 
 pavilion of the Princess, that he might help to beguile the 
 tediousness of the journey by some of his most agreeable recitals. 
 At the mention of a poet, Fadladeek elevated his critical eye- 
 brows, and, having refreshed his faculties with a dose of that 
 dehcious opium, which is distilled from the black poppy of the 
 Thebais, gave orders for the minstrel to be forthwith introduced 
 into the presence. 
 
 5 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 The Princess, who had once in her hfe seen a poet, from 
 behind the screens of gauze in her father's hall, and had con- 
 ceived from that specimen no very favourable ideas of the Cast, 
 expected but Httle in this new exhibition to" interest her ; — she 
 felt inclined, however, to alter her opinion on the very first 
 appearance of Feramoez. He was a youth about Lalla Rookh's 
 own age, and graceful as that idol of women, Chrishna,* — such 
 as he appears to their young imaginations, heroic, beautiful, 
 breathing music fi-om his very eyes, and exalting the religion of 
 his worshippers into love. His dress was simple, yet not with- 
 out some marks of costliness ; and the ladies of the Princess 
 were not long in discovering that the cloth, which encircled his 
 
 * The Indian Apollo. 
 
LALLA ROOKI-I. 
 
 high Tartarian cap, was of the most delicate kind that the 
 shawl-goats of Tibet supply. Here and there, too, over his 
 vest, which was confined by a flowered girdle of Kashan, hung 
 strings of fine pearl, disposed with an air of studied negligence ; 
 — nor did the exquisite embroidery of his sandals escape the 
 observation of these fair critics ; who, however they might give 
 way to Fadladeen upon the unimportant topics of religion and. 
 government, had the spirit of martyrs in everything relating to 
 such momentous matters as jewels and embroidery. 
 
 For the purpose of relieving the pauses of recitation by music, 
 the young Cashmerian held in his hand a kitar, — such as, in 
 old times, the Arab maids of the West used to listen to by 
 moonlight in the gardens of the Alhambra; — and, having pre- 
 mised, with much humility, that the story he was about to relate 
 was founded on the adventures of that Veiled Prophet of Kho- 
 rassan, who, in the year of the Hegira 163, created such alarm 
 throughout the Eastern Empire, made an obeisance to the 
 Princess, and thus began : — 
 
THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN.* 
 
 In that delightful Province of the Sun^ 
 The first of Persian lands he shines upon, 
 Wherej all the loveliest children of his beam, 
 Flowrets and fruits blush over every stream, 
 
 * Kkorassan signifies, in tlie old Persian language, Province, or Region of the Sun.- 
 >Sir W. Joneit. 
 i B 9 
 
LALLA UnOKH. 
 
 And^ fairest of all streams, the*Mm-ga roves 
 
 Among Merou's * bright palaces and groves ; — 
 
 There, on that throne, to which the blind belief 
 
 Of millions raised him, sat the Prophet- Chief, 
 
 The Great Mokanna. O'er his features hung 
 
 The Veil, the Silver Veil, which he had flung 
 
 In mercy there, to hide from mortal sight 
 
 His dazzhng brow, till man could bear its light; 
 
 For, far less luminous, his votaries said, 
 
 AVere ev'n the gleams, miraculously shed 
 
 O'er jMoussa's f cheek, when down the Mount he trod, 
 
 All glowing from the presence of his God ! 
 
 On either side, with ready hearts and hands. 
 His chosen guard of bold Believers stands ; 
 Young fire-eyed disputants, who deem their swords, 
 On points of faith, more eloquent than words ; 
 And such their zeal, there's not a youth with brand 
 Uplifted there, but, at the Chief's command. 
 Would make his own devoted heart its sheath. 
 And bless the lips that doom'd so dear a death ! 
 In hatred to the Caliph's hue of night, J 
 Their vesture, helms and all, is snowy white ; 
 Their weapons various ; — some equipp'd, for speed, 
 AVith javelins of the light Kathaian reed ; 
 Or bows of buffalo horn, and shining quivers 
 Fill'd with the stems § that bloom on Iran's rivers ; 
 While some, for war's more terrible attacks. 
 Wield the huge mace and ponderous battle-axe ; 
 
 * One of the royal cities of Khorassan. t Moses. 
 
 t Black was tlie colour adopted by the Caliphs of the House of Abbas, in their' 
 si.nnciit^i, turbans, and standards. 
 § Pichnln, used anciently for arrows by the Persians. 
 
THE VEILED PROPHET OP KHORASSAN. 
 
 And, as they wave aloft in morning's beam 
 The milk-white plumage of their helms, they seem 
 Like a chenar-tree grove, when winter throws 
 O'er all its tufted heads his feathering snows. 
 
 Between the porphyry pillars, that uphold 
 The rich moresque-work of the roof of gold, 
 Aloft the Haram's curtain'd galleries rise. 
 Where, through the silken net-work, glancing eyes, 
 From time to time, like sudden gleams that glow 
 Through autumn clouds, shine o'er the pomp below. — 
 What impious tongue, ye blushing saints, would dare 
 To hint that aught but Heav'n hath plac'd you there ? 
 Or that the loves of this light world could bind, 
 In their gross chain, your Prophet's soaring mind? 
 No — wrongfal thought ! — commission'd from above 
 To people Eden's bowers with shapes of love, 
 (Creatures so bright, that the same lips and eyes 
 They wear on earth will serve in Paradise,) 
 There to recline among Heav'n' s native maids, 
 And crown th' Elect with bliss that never fades ! — 
 Well hath the Prophet- Chief his bidding done ; 
 And every beauteous race beneath the sun, 
 From those who kneel at Brahma's burning founts,* 
 To the fresh nymphs bounding o'er Yemen's mounts ; 
 From Persia's eyes of full and fawn-like ray, 
 To the small, half-shut glances of Kathay ; t 
 And Georgia's bloom, and Azab's darker smiles. 
 And the gold ringlets of the Western Isles ; 
 
 Tlie burning fountains of Brahma, near Chittagong, esteemed as holy. — Tttn 
 t China. 
 
I.ALLA Ul.OKIi. 
 
 All, all are there ; — each land its flower hath gi\'en. 
 To form that fair young nursery for Heaven ! 
 
 But why this pageant now — this arm'd ari-ay '■: 
 AVhat triumph crowds the rich Divan to-day 
 With turban'd heads, of every hue and race, 
 Bowing before that veil'd and awful face, 
 Like tulip-beds, of different shapes and dyes, 
 Bending beneath th' invisible west-wind's sighs ! 
 What ntw-made mystery now, for Faith to sign. 
 And blood to seal, as genuine and divine, — 
 What dazzling mimicry of God's own power 
 Hath the bold Prophet plann'd to grace this huurV 
 Not such the pageant now, though not less proud, — 
 ^'on warrior-youth, advancing from the ciowd, 
 With silver bow, with belt of broider'd crape. 
 And fur-bound bonnet of Bucharian shape. 
 So fiercely beautiful in form and eye. 
 Like war's wild planet in a summer sky; — 
 That youth to-day,— a proselyte, worth hordes 
 Of cooler spirits and less practis'd swords, — 
 Is come to join, all bravery and belief. 
 The creed and standard of the heav'n-sent Chief. 
 
 Tiiouyh few his years, the West already knows 
 Young Azm's fame; — beyond th' Olympian snows, 
 Ere manhood diirken'd o'er his downy cheek, 
 O'erwhelm'd in fight, and captive to the Greek,* 
 He linger'd there, till peace dissolv'd his chains ; — 
 Oh ! who could, ev'n in bondage, tread the plains 
 
 * In tliG war of tlio Caliph Mabndi agfunst llie Empress Irene, for an account o! wliicli, 
 Gibbon, vol. a. 
 
THE VEILED PROPHET OP KHORASSAN. 
 
 Of glorious Greece, nor feel his spirit rise 
 
 Kindling within him? — who, with heart and ejes. 
 
 Could walk where Liberty had been, nor see 
 
 The shining foot-prints of her Deity, 
 
 Nor feel those god-like breathings in the air. 
 
 Which mutely told her spirit had been there V 
 
 Not he, that youthful warrior, — no, too well 
 
 For his soul's quiet work'd th' awakening spell ; 
 
 And now, returning to his own dear land, 
 
 Full of those dreams of good that, vainly grand. 
 
 Haunt the young heart; — proud views of human- kind, 
 
 Of men to Gods exalted and refin'd ; — 
 
 False views, like that horizon's fair deceit. 
 
 Where earth and heav'n but seeiit, alas ! to meet; — 
 
 Soon as he heard an Arm Divine was rais'd 
 
 To right the nations, and beheld, emblaz'd 
 
 On the white flag Moeanna's host unfurl'd. 
 
 Those words of sunshine, " Freedom to the World," 
 
 At once his faith, his sword, his soul obey'd 
 
 Th' inspiring summons ; every chosen blade. 
 
 That fought beneath that banner's sacred text, 
 
 Seem'd doubly edg'd, for this world and the next ; 
 
 And ne'er did Faith with her smooth bandage bind 
 
 Byes more devoutly willing to be blind 
 
 In virtue's cause ; — never was soul inspir'd • 
 
 With livelier trust in what it most desir'd. 
 
 Than his, th' enthusiast there^ who kneeling, pale 
 
 With pious awe, before that Silver Veil, 
 
 Believes the form, to which he bends his knee, 
 
 Some pure, redeeming angel, sent to free 
 
 This fetter'd world from every bond and stain. 
 
 And bring its primal glories back again ! 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 Low as young Azim knelt, that motley crowd 
 Of all earth's nations sunk the knee and bow'd. 
 With shouts of " AiLA ! " echoing long and loud ; 
 While high in air, above the Prophet's head. 
 Hundreds of banners, to the sunbeam spread, 
 Wav'd, like the wings of the white birds that fan 
 The flying throne of star-taught Sohman ! 
 Then thus he spoke : — " Stranger, though new the frame 
 Thy soul inhabits now, I've track' d its flame 
 For many an age,* in every chance and change 
 Of that Existence, through whose varied range, — 
 As through a torch-race, where, from hand to hand. 
 The flying youths transmit their shining brand, — 
 From frame to frame the unextinguish'd soul 
 Rapidly passes, till it reach the goal ! 
 
 " Nor think 'tis only the gross Spirits, warm'd 
 With duskier fire, and for earth's medium form'd, 
 That run this course ; — Beings, the most divine, 
 Thus deign tlirough dark mortality to shine. 
 Such was the Essence that in Adam dwelt. 
 To which all Heav'n except the Proud One, knelt : f 
 Such the refin'd Intelligence that glow'd 
 In Moussa's frame, and, thence descending, flow'd 
 Through many a Prophet's breast ■ — in Issa f shone. 
 And iu Mohammed burn'd ; till, hastening on, 
 (As a bright river that, from fall to fall 
 In many a maze descending, bright through all. 
 
 * The traiismigration of souls was one of his doctrines, v. B' Serhel of . 
 t "And when we said unto the angels, Worship Adam, they aH worshipped hi-m except 
 Bblis (Lucifer), who refused."— r*e JCarmi, chap. ii. 
 t Jesus. 
 
THE VEILED PEOPHET OF KHORASSAN. 
 
 Finds some fair region where, each labyrinth past, 
 In one full lake of light it rests at last !) 
 That holy Spirit, settling calm and free 
 From lapse or shadow, centres all in me ! " 
 
 Again throughout th' assembly, at these words. 
 Thousands of voices rung ; the warrior's swords 
 Were pointed up to heaven ; a sudden wind 
 In th' open banners play'd, and from behind 
 Those Persian hangings, that but ill could screen 
 The Haram's loveliness, white hands were seen 
 Waving embroider'd scarves, whose motion gave 
 A perfume forth ; — like those the Houris wave. 
 When beckoning to their bowers th' Immortal Brave. 
 
 " But these," pursued the Chief, " are truths sublime. 
 That claim a holier mood and calmer time 
 Than earth allows us now ; — this sword must first 
 The darkling prison-house of Mankind burst. 
 Ere Peace can visit them, or Truth let in 
 Her wakening day-light on a world of sin ! 
 But then, celestial warriors, then, when all 
 Earth's shrines and thrones before our banner fall ; 
 When the glad slave shall at these feet lay down 
 His broken chain, the tyrant lord his crown. 
 The priest his book, the conqueror his wreath. 
 And from the lips of Truth one mighty breath 
 Shall, like a whirlwind, scatter in its breeze 
 That whole dark pile of human mockeries ; — 
 Then shall the reign of Mind commence on earth. 
 And starting fresh, as from a second birth, 
 Man, in the sunshine of the world's new spring, 
 Shall walk transparent, like some holy thing ! 
 
 15 
 
LALLA ROOKH. 
 
 Then, too, 3'our Prophet from his angel brow 
 Shall cast the Veil that hides its splendours now. 
 And gladden'd Earth shall, through her wide expanse, 
 Bask in the glories of this countenance ! 
 
 " For thee, young warrior, welcome ! — thou hast yet 
 Some tasks to learn, some frailties to forget. 
 Ere the white war-plume o'er thy brow can wave ; — 
 But, once my own, mine all till in the grave ! "' 
 
 
THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHOBASSAN. 
 
 The pomp is at an end, — the crowds are gone — 
 Each ear and heart still haunted by the tone 
 Of that deep voice, which thrill' d like Alla's own ! 
 The young all dazzled by the plumes and lances, 
 The glittering throne, and Haram's half-caught glances ; 
 The old deep pondering on the promis'd reign 
 Of peace and truth ; and all the female train 
 Ready to risk their eyes, could they but gaze 
 A moment on that brow's miraculous blaze ! 
 
 But there was one, among the chosen maids 
 Who blush'd behind the gallery's silken shades. 
 One, to whose soul the pageant of to-day 
 Has been like death ; — you saw her pale dismay. 
 Ye wondering sisterhood, and heard the burst 
 Of exclamation from her lips, when first 
 She saw that youth, too well, too dearly known, 
 Silently kneeling at the Prophet's throne. 
 
 Ah, Zelica ! there was a time, when bliss 
 Shone o'er thy heart from every look of his ; 
 When but to see him, hear him, breathe the air 
 In which he dwelt, was thy soul's fondest prayer ! 
 When round him hung such a perpetual spell, 
 Whate'er he did, none' ever did so well. 
 Too happy days ! when, if he touch'd a flower 
 Or gem of thine, 'twas sacred from that hour ; 
 When thou didst study him, till every tone 
 And gesture and dear look became thy own, — 
 Thy voice like his, the changes of his face 
 In thine reflected with still lovelier grace, 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 Like echo, sending back sweet music, fraught 
 With twice th' aerial sweetness it had brought ! 
 Yet now he comes — brighter than even he 
 E'er beamed before, — but ah ! not bright for thee ; 
 No — dread, unlook'd for, like a visitant 
 From th' other world, he comes as if to haunt 
 Thy guilty soul with dreams of lost delight. 
 Long lost to all but memory's aching sight : — ■ 
 Sad dreams ! as when the Spirit of our Youth 
 Returns in sleep, sparkling with all the truth 
 And innocence once ours, and leads us back. 
 In mournful mockery, o'er the shining track 
 Of our young life, and points out every ray 
 Of hope and peace we've lost upon the way ! 
 
 Once happy pair ! — in proud Bokhara's groves. 
 Who had not heard of their first youthful loves ? 
 Born by that ancient flood, * which from its spring 
 In the Dark Mountains swiftly wandering, 
 Enrich'd by every pilgrim brook that shines 
 With relics from Bucharia's ruby mines. 
 And, lending to the Caspian half its strength. 
 In the cold Lake of Eagles sinks at length ; — 
 There, on the banks of that bright river born. 
 The flowers, that hung above its wave at morn, 
 Bless'd not the waters, as they murmur'd by. 
 With holier scent and lustre, than the sigh 
 And virgin glance of first affection cast 
 Upon their youth's smooth current, as it pass'd ! 
 
 * The Amoo, which rises in the Bolur Tag, or Dai-k Mountains, and nnming neaj-ly 
 from east to west, spUts into two branches, one of which falls into tho Caspian Sea, and 
 the other into Arai Nahr, or the Lake of Eagles. 
 
THE VEILED PROPHET OP KHOEASSAN. 
 
 But war disturbed this vision — far away 
 From her fond ejes, summon' d to join th' array 
 Of Persia's warriors on the hills of Thrace^ 
 The youth exchang'd his sylvan dwelUng- place 
 For the rude tent and war-field's deathful clash ; 
 His Zeuca's sweet glances for the flash 
 Of Grecian wild-fire^ and Love's gentle chains 
 For bleeding bondage on Byzantium's plains, 
 
 Month after month, in widowhood of soul 
 Drooping, the maiden saw two summers roll 
 Their suns away — but, ah ! how cold and dim 
 Ev'n summer's suns, when not beheld with him ! 
 From time to time ill-omen'd rumours came, 
 (Like spirit-tongues, muttering the sick man's name. 
 Just ere he dies)— at length, those sounds of dread 
 Fell withering on her soul, " Azim is dead ! " 
 Oh grief, beyond all other griefs, when fate 
 First leaves the young heart lone and desolate 
 In the wide world, without that only tie 
 For which it lov'd to live or fear'd to die ; — 
 Lorn as the hung-up lute, that ne'er hath spoken 
 Since the sad day its master-chord was broken ! 
 
 Fond maid, the sorrow of her soul was such, 
 Ev'n reason sunk blighted beneath its touch ; 
 And though, ere long, her sanguine spirit rose 
 Above the first dead pressure of its woes. 
 Though health and bloom return' d, the delicate chain 
 Of thought, once tangled, never clear'd again. 
 "Warm, lively, soft, as in youth's happiest day. 
 The mind was still all there, but turn'd astray ; — 
 
LALLA liOOKH. 
 
 A wandering bark, upon whose pathway shone 
 
 All stars of heav'n^ except the guiding one ! 
 
 Again she smiFd, naj-, much and brightly smiVd, 
 
 But •'twas a lustre, strange, unreal, wild ; 
 
 And when she sung to her lute's touching strain, 
 
 'Twas like the notes, half ecstasy, half pain. 
 
 The bulbul* utters, ere her soul depart. 
 
 When, vanquished by some minstrel's powerful art. 
 
 She dies upon the lute whose sweetness broke her heart ! 
 
 Such was the mood in which that mission found 
 Young Zelica, — that mission, which around 
 The Eastern world, in every region blest 
 With woman's smile, sought out its loveliest, 
 To grace that galaxy of lips and eyes. 
 Which the Veil'd Prophet destin'd for the skies ! — 
 And such quick welcome as a spark receives 
 Dropp'd on a bed of autumn's wither'd leaves. 
 Did every tale of these enthusiasts find 
 In the wild maiden's sorrow-blighted mind. 
 All fire at once the madd'ning zeal she caught ; — 
 Elect of Paradise ! blest, rapturous thought ! 
 Predestin'd bride, in heaven's eternal dome. 
 Of some brave youth — ha ! durst they say " of some 
 No — of the one, one only object trac'd 
 In her heart's core too deep to be effac'd ; 
 The one whose memory, fresh as life, is twin'd 
 With every broken link of her lost mind ; 
 Whose image lives, though Eeason's self bo wreck'd, 
 Safe 'mid the ruins of her intellect ! 
 
 ?" 
 
 * The nightingale. 
 
THE VEILED I'KOPHET OP KHOliASSAN. 
 
 Alas, poor Zelica ! it needed all 
 The fantasy which held thy mind in thrall, 
 To see in that gay Haram's glowing maids 
 A sainted colony for Eden's shades ; 
 
 
 Or dream that he, — of whose unholy flame 
 Thou wert too soon the victim, — shining came 
 From Paradise, to people its pure sphere 
 With souls like thine, which he hath ruin'd here ! 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 No — had not reason's light totally set. 
 
 And left thee dark, thou hadst an amulet 
 
 In the lov'd image, graven on thy heart. 
 
 Which would have sav'd thee from the tempter's art, 
 
 And kept alive, in all its bloom of breath. 
 
 That purity, whose fading is love's death ! — 
 
 But lost, inflam'd, — a restless zeal took place 
 
 Of the mild virgin's still and feminine grace ; — 
 
 First of the Prophet's favourites, proudly first 
 
 In zeal and charms, — too weU th' Impostor nurs'd 
 
 Her soul's delirium, in whose active flame. 
 
 Thus lighting up a young, luxuriant frame. 
 
 He saw more potent sorceries to bind 
 
 To his dark yoke the spirits of mankind. 
 
 More subtle chains than hell itself ere twin'd. 
 
 No art was spar'd, no witchery ; — all the skill 
 
 His demons taught him was employ' d to fill 
 
 Her mind with gloom and ecstasy by turns — 
 
 That gloom, through which frenzy but fiercer burns ; 
 
 That ecstasy, which from the depth of sadness 
 
 Glares like the maniac's moon, whose light is madness ! 
 
 'Twas from a briUiant banquet, where the sound 
 Of poesy and music breath' d around, 
 Together picturing to her mind and ear 
 The glories of that heav'n, her destin'd sphere, 
 Where all was pure, where every stain that lay 
 Upon the spirit's light should pass away. 
 And, realizing more than youthful love 
 E'er wish'd or dream' d, she should for ever rove 
 Through fields of fragrance, by her Azim's side, 
 His own bless' d, purified, eternal bride ! — 
 
THE VEILED PROPHET OP KHOEASSAN. 
 
 ^Twas from a scene^ a witching trance like this^. 
 
 He hurried her away, yet breathing bliss, 
 
 To the dim charnel-house ; — through all its steams 
 
 Of damp and death, led only by'those 'gleams 
 
 Which foul Corruption lights, as with design 
 
 To show the gay and proud she too can shine ! — 
 
 And, passing on through upright ranks of dead. 
 
 Which to the maiden, doubly oraz'd by dread, 
 
 Seem'd, through the bluish death-light round them cast, 
 
 To move theit, lips in mutterings as she pass'd — 
 
 There, in that awful place, when each had quaff'd 
 
 And pledg'd in silence such a fearful draught. 
 
 Such — oh ! the look and taste of that red bowl 
 
 Will haunt her till she dies — he bound her soul 
 
 By a dark oath, in hell's own language fram'd. 
 
 Never, while earth his mystic presence claim'd. 
 
 While the blue arch of day hung o'er them both. 
 
 Never, by that all-imprecating oath. 
 
 In joy or sorrow from his side to sever. — 
 
 She swore, and the wide charnel echoed, " Never, never !" 
 
 From that dread hour, entirely, wildly given 
 To him, and — she believ'd, lost maid ! — to heaven; 
 Her brain, her heart, her passions all inflam'd. 
 How proud she stood, when in full Haram nam'd 
 The Priestess of the Faith ! — how flash'd her eyes 
 With light, alas ! that was not of the skies. 
 When round, in trances only less than hers. 
 She saw the Haram kneel, her prostrate worshippers ! 
 Well might Mokanna think that form alone 
 Had spells enough to make the world his own : — 
 Light, lovely limbs, to which the spirit's play 
 
I.ALLA EOOKH. 
 
 Gave motion, airy as the dancing spray, 
 
 When from its stem the small bird wings away ! 
 
 Lips in whose rosy labyrinth, when she smil'd, 
 
 The soul was lost ; and blushes, swift and wild 
 
 As are the momentary meteors sent 
 
 Across th' uncalm, but beauteous firmament. 
 
 And then her look ! — oh ! where's the heart so wise, 
 
 Could unbewilder'd meet those matchless eyes ? 
 
 Qaick, restless, strange, but exquisite withal, 
 
 Like those of angels, just before their fall ; 
 
 Now shadow'd with the shames of earth — now crost 
 
 By glimpses of the heav'n her heart had lost ; 
 
 In every glance there broke, without control, 
 
 The flashes of a bright but troubled soul, 
 
 Where sensibility still wildly play'd. 
 
 Like lightning, round the ruins it had made ! 
 
 And such was now young Zelica — so chang'd 
 Prom her who, some years since, delighted rang'd 
 The almond groves, that shade Bokhara's tide. 
 All life and bliss, with Azim by her side 1 
 So alter'd was she now, this festal day, 
 When, ^mid the proud Divan's dazzling array. 
 The vision of that Youth, whom she had lov'd. 
 And wept as dead, before her breath'd and mov'd ; — 
 When — bright, she thought, as if from Eden's track 
 But half-way trodden, he had wander' d back. 
 Again to earth, glistening with Eden's light — 
 Her beauteous Azim shone before her sight. 
 
 Reason ! who shall say what spells renew. 
 When least we look for it, thy broken clew ! 
 
THE VETLEB PEOPHET OP KHORASSAN. 
 
 Through what small vistas o'er the darkened brain 
 
 Thy intellectual day-beam bursts again ; 
 
 And how, like forts, to which beleaguerers win 
 
 Unhop'd-for entrance through some friend within, 
 
 One clear idea, waken'd in the breast 
 
 By memory's magic, lets in all the rest ! 
 
 Would it were thus, unhappy girl, with thee ! 
 
 But, though light came, it came but partially ; 
 
 Enough to show the maze, in which thy sense 
 
 Wander'd about, — but not to guide it thence ; 
 
 Enough to glimmer o'er the yawning wave. 
 
 But not to point the harbour which might save. 
 
 Hours of delight and peace, long left behind. 
 
 With that dear form came rushing o'er her mind ; 
 
 But oh ! to think how deep her soul had gone 
 
 In shame and falsehood since those moments shone ; 
 
 And, then, her oath — there madness lay again ; 
 
 And, shuddering, back she sunk into her chain 
 
 Of mental darkness, as if blest to flee 
 
 From light, whose every glimpse was agony ! 
 
 Yet, one relief this glance of former years 
 
 Brought, mingled vsdth its pain, — tears, floods of tears, 
 
 Long frozen at her heart, but now like rills 
 
 Let loose in spring-time from the snowy hills. 
 
 And gushing warm, after a sleep of frost. 
 
 Through valleys where their flow had long been lost ! 
 
 Sad and subdued, for the first time her frame 
 Trembled with horror, when the summons came, 
 ( A summons proud and rare, which all but she. 
 And she, till now, had heard with ecstasy,) 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 To meet Mokanna at his place of prayer, 
 
 A garden oratory, cool and fair, 
 
 By the stream's side^ where still at close of day 
 
 The Prophet of the Veil retir'd to pray ; 
 
 Sometimes alone — but, oftener far, with one. 
 
 One chosen nymph to share his orison. 
 
 Of late none found such favour in his sight 
 As the young Priestess ; and though, since that night 
 When the death-caverns echoed every tone 
 Of the dire oath that made her all his own, 
 Th'' Impostor, sure of his infatuate prize. 
 Had, more than once, thrown off his soul's disguise. 
 And utter'd such unheavenly, monstrous things. 
 As even across the desperate wanderings 
 Of a weak intellect, whose lamp was out. 
 Threw startling shadows of dismay and doubt ; — 
 Yet zeal, ambition, her tremendous vow, 
 The thought, still haunting her, of that bright brow 
 Whose blaze, as yet from mortal eye conceal' d, 
 Would soon — proud triumph ! — be to her reveal' d. 
 To her alone ; — and then the hope, most dear. 
 Most wild of all, that her transgression here 
 Was but a passage through earth's grosser fire. 
 From which the spirit would at last aspire. 
 Even purer than before, — as perfumes rise 
 Through flame and smoke, most welcome to the skies, — 
 And that when Azim's fond, divine embrace 
 Should circle her in heaven, no darkening trace 
 Would on that bosom he once lov'd remain. 
 But all be bright, be pure, be Ids again ! — 
 
THE VEILED PEOPHET OF KHOEASSAN. 
 
 These were the 'wildering dreams, whose curst deceit 
 
 Had chain' d her soul beneath the tempter's feet, 
 
 And made her think even damning falsehood sweet. 
 
 But now that Shape, which had appall'd her view. 
 
 That Semblance — oh ! how terrible, if true ! — 
 
 Which came across her frenzy's full career 
 
 With shock of consciousness, cold, deep, severe, — 
 
 As when, in northern seas, at midnight dark, 
 
 An isle of ice encounters some swift bark. 
 
 And, startling all its wretches from their sleep. 
 
 By one cold impulse hurls them to the deep ; — 
 
 So came that shock not frenzy's self could bear, 
 
 And waking up each long-lull'd image there. 
 
 But check'd her headlong soul, to sink it in despair ! 
 
 Wan and dejected, through the evening dusk. 
 She now went slowly to that small kiosk. 
 Where, pondering alone his impious schemes, 
 MoKANNA waited her— too wrapt in dreams 
 Of the fair-ripening future's rich success, 
 To heed the sorrow, pale and spiritless. 
 That sat upon his victim's downcast brow. 
 Or mark how slow her step, how alter'd how 
 Prom the quick, ardent Priestess, whose light bound 
 Came like a spirit o'er th' unechoing ground, — 
 From that wild Zelica, whose every glance 
 Was thrilHng fire, whose every thought a trance 1 
 
 Upon his couch the Veil'd Mokanna lay, 
 While lamps around — not such as lend their ray. 
 
 27 
 
lALLA KOOKH. 
 
 Glimmering and cold, tu those who nightly pray 
 In holy Koom,* or Mecca's dim arcades, — 
 But brilliant, soft, such lights as lovely maids 
 Look loveliest in, shed their luxurious glow 
 Upon his mystic Veil's white glittering flow. 
 Beside him, 'stead of beads and books of prayer. 
 Which the world fondly thought he mused on there, 
 Stood vases, iill'd with Kishmee'sf golden wine, 
 And the red weepings of the Shiraz vine ; 
 Of which his curtain'd lips full many a di-aught. 
 Took zealously, as if eacli di'op they quaff'd. 
 
 * The cities of Com (or Koom) and Cashan are fuU of mosques, mausoleums, and 
 sepulchres of the descendants of Ali, the Saints of Persia.- -C7'a?-(?n7, 
 t An island in the Persian Gnlf, celebrated for its white wine. 
 
THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHOBASSAN. 
 
 Like Zemzem^s Spring of Holiness,* had power 
 
 To freshen the soul's virtues into flower ! 
 
 And still he drank and ponder' d — nor could see 
 
 Th' approaching maid, so deep his reverie ; 
 
 At length, with fiendish laugh, like that which broke 
 
 From Bblis at the Fall of Man, he spoke : — 
 
 " Yes, ye vile race, for hell's amusement given. 
 
 Too mean for earth, yet claiming kin with heaven ; 
 
 God's images, forsooth ! — such gods as he 
 
 Wliom India serves, the monkey deity ; f — 
 
 Ye creatures of a breath, proud things of clay. 
 
 To whom if Lucifer, as grandams say. 
 
 Refused, though at the forfeit of heaven's light, 
 
 To bend in worship, Lucifer was right ! — 
 
 Soon shall I plant this foot upon the neck 
 
 Of your foul race, and without fear or check. 
 
 Luxuriating in hate, avenge my shame. 
 
 My deep-felt, long-nurst loathing of man's name ! — 
 
 Soon, at the head of myriads, bhnd and fierce 
 
 As hooded falcons, through the universe 
 
 I'll sweep my darkening, desolating way. 
 
 Weak man my instrument, curst man my prey ! 
 
 " Ye wise, ye learn' d, who grope your dull way on 
 By the dim twinkling gleams of ages gone. 
 Like superstitious thieves, who think the light 
 From dead men's marrow guides them best at night, | — 
 
 * The miraculous well at Mecca; so called, says Sale, froin the murmurtag of its 
 waters. 
 
 t The god Hannaman. 
 
 X A kind of lantern formerly used by robbers, called the Hand of Glory, the candle 
 for which was made of the fat of a dead malefactor. This, however, was rather a 
 Western than an Eastern superstition. 
 
 39 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 Ye shall have honours — wealthy — yes, sages^ yes — 
 
 I know, grave fools, your wisdom's nothingness ; 
 
 Undazzled it can track yon starry sphere. 
 
 But a gilt stick, a bauble, bHnds it here. 
 
 How I shall laugh, when trumpeted along. 
 
 In lying speech, and still more lying song. 
 
 By these learnM slaves, the meanest of the throng; 
 
 Their wits bought up, their wisdom shrunk so small, 
 
 A sceptre's puny point can wield it all ! 
 
 "Ye, too, believers of incredible creeds. 
 Whose faith enshrines the monsters which it breeds ; 
 Who, bolder even than Nemrod, think to rise. 
 By nonsense heap'd on nonsense, to the skies ; 
 Ye shall have miracles, aye, sound ones too, 
 Seen, heard, attested, everything — but true. 
 Your preaching zealots, too inspir'd to seek 
 One grace of meaning for the things they speak ; 
 Your martyrs, ready to shed out their blood. 
 For truths too heavenly to be understood; 
 And your state priests, sole venders of the lore 
 That works salvation; — as on Ava's shore, 
 ■WTiere none hut priests are privileged to trade 
 In that best marble of which Gods are made ;* — 
 They shall have mysteries — aye, precious stuff 
 For knaves to thrive by — mysteries enough; 
 Dark, tangled doctrines, dark as fraud can weave. 
 Which simple votaries shall on trast receive. 
 While craftier feign beUef, till they believe. 
 A heaven, too, ye must have, ye lords of dust, — 
 A splendid Paradise, — pure souls, ye must : 
 
 is'« Ava, vol, ii. p. 376. 
 30 
 
THE VEILED PEOPHET OP KHOEASSAN. 
 
 That Prophet ill sustains his holy call, 
 
 Who finds not heavens to suit the tastes of all; 
 
 Houris for boys, omniscience for sages, 
 
 And wings and glories for all ranks and ages. 
 
 Vain things ! — as lust or vanity inspires. 
 
 The heaven of each is but what each desires. 
 
 And, soul or sense, whate'er the object be, 
 
 Man would be man to all eternity ! 
 
 So let him — Bbhs ! grant this crowning curse. 
 
 But keep him what he is — no hell were worse ! " 
 
 " my lost soul \" exclaim'd the shuddering maid, 
 WTiose ears had drunk like poison all he said : 
 MoKANNA started — not abash' d, afraid, — 
 He knew no more of fear than one who dwells 
 Beneath the tropics knows of icicles ! 
 But, in those dismal words that reached his ear, 
 " my lost soul ! " there was a sound so drear. 
 So Uke that voice, among the sinful dead, 
 In which the legend o'er Hell's Gate is read. 
 That, new as 'twas from her, whom nought could dim 
 Or sink till now, it startled even him. 
 
 " Ha, my fair Priestess ! " — thus, with ready wile, 
 Th' Impostor turn'd to greet her — " thou, whose smile 
 Hath inspiration in its rosy beam. 
 Beyond th' enthusiast's hope, or prophet's dream ! 
 Light of the Faith ! who twin'st religion's zeal 
 So close with love's, men know not which they feel, 
 Nor which to sigh for, in their trance of heart, 
 The heaven thou preachest, or the heaven thou art ! 
 
 31 
 
LALLA KOOKH. 
 
 What should I be without thee ? without thee^ 
 
 How dull were power, how joyless victory ! 
 
 Though borne by angels, if that smile of thine 
 
 BlessM not my banner, 'twere but half divine. 
 
 But — why so mournful, child ^ — those eyes, that shone 
 
 All life, last night — what ! is their glory gone ? 
 
 Come, come — this morn's fatigue hath made them pale, 
 
 They want rekindling — suns themselves would fail. 
 
 Did not their comets bring, as I to thee. 
 
 From Light's own fount supplies of brilliancy ! 
 
 Thou seest this cup, — no juice of earth is here, 
 
 But the pure waters of that upper sphere. 
 
 Whose rills o'er ruby beds and topaz flow. 
 
 Catching the gem's bright colour as they go. 
 
 Nightly my Genii come, and fill these urns : 
 
 Nay, drink — in every drop life's essence burns ; 
 
 'Twill make that soul all fire, those eyes all light, — 
 
 Come, come, I want thy loveliest smiles to-night : 
 
 There is a youth — why start ? — thou saw'st him, then ; 
 
 Look'd he not nobly ? Such the god-like men 
 
 Thou'lt have to woo thee in the bowers above ; — 
 
 Though /((', I fear, hath thoughts too stern for love, 
 
 Too ruled by that cold enemy of bliss 
 
 The world calls virtue — we must conquer this ; — 
 
 Nay, shrink not, pretty sage ; 'tis not for thee 
 
 To scan the mazes of heaven's mystery. 
 
 The steel must pass through fire, ere it can yield 
 
 Fit instruments for mighty hands to wield. 
 
 This very night I mean to try the art 
 
 Of powerful beauty on that warrior's heart. 
 
 All that my Haram boasts of bloom and wit. 
 
 Of skill and charms, most rare and exquisite, 
 
THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 
 
 Shall tempt the boy ; — young Miezala's blue eyes, 
 
 Whose sleepy lid like snow on violets lies ; 
 
 Aeouta's cheeks, warm as a spring- day sun. 
 
 And lips that, like the seal of Solomon, 
 
 Have magic in their presence; Zeba's lute. 
 
 And Lilla's dancing feet, that gleam and shoot, 
 
 Rapid and white, as sea-birds o'er the deep, — 
 
 All shall combine their witching powers to steep 
 
 My convert's spirit in that softening trance. 
 
 Prom which to heaven is but the next advance — 
 
 That glowing, yielding fusion of the breast. 
 
 On which Religion stamps her image best. 
 
 But hear me. Priestess ! — though each nymph of these 
 
 Hath some peculiar, practis'd power to please. 
 
 Some glance or step, which, at the mirror tried, 
 
 Pirst charms herself, then all the world beside ; 
 
 There still wants one to make the victory sure. 
 
 One, who ia every look joins every lure ; 
 
 Through whom all beauty's beams concentred pass, 
 
 Dazzling and warm, as through Love's burning-glass;, 
 
 Whose gentle lips persuade without a word, — 
 
 Whose words, even when unmeaning, are ador'd. 
 
 Like inarticulate breathings from a shrine, 
 
 Which our faith takes for granted are divine ! 
 
 Such is the nymph we want, all warmth and Hght^ 
 
 To crown the rich temptations of to-night ; 
 
 Such the refin'd enchantress, that must be 
 
 This hero's vanquisher, — and thou art she !" 
 
 With her hands clasp' d, her lips apart and pale„ 
 The Maid had stood, gazing upon the Veil 
 
LALLA EOOKF. 
 
 From which these words, like south- winds through a fence 
 
 Of Kerzrah flowers, came fiU'd with pestilence : * 
 
 So boldly utter' d, too ! — as if all dread 
 
 Of frowns from her, of virtuous frowns, were fled. 
 
 And the wretch felt assur'd that, once plung^'d in. 
 
 Her woman's soul would know no pause in sin ! 
 
 At first, though mute she listen' d, Uke a dream 
 Seem'd all he said; nor could her mind, whose beam 
 As yet was weak, penetrate half his scheme. 
 But when, at length, he utter'd " Thou art she !" 
 All flash' d at once, and, shrieking piteously, 
 " Oh, not for worlds !" she cried, — " Great God ! to whom 
 I once knelt innocent, is this my doom ? 
 Are all my dreams, my hopes of heavenly bhss. 
 My puiity, my pride, then come to this, — ■ 
 To live, the wanton of a fiend ! — to be 
 The pander of his guilt — infamy ! — 
 And sunk, myself, as low as hell can steep 
 In its hot flood, drag others down as deep ! 
 Others ? — ha ! yes — that youth who came to-day- 
 Not him I lov'd — not him — oh ! do but say. 
 But swear to me this moment 'tis not he. 
 And I will serve, dark fiend — will worship even thee ! " 
 
 " Beware, young raving thing ! — in time beware. 
 Nor utter what I cannot, must not bear. 
 Even from thy lips. Go — try thy lute, thy voice, — 
 The boy must feel their magic ; I rejoice 
 
 * "It is comxaonly said in Persia, that if a man breathe in tho hot south wind, 
 which in June or July passes over that flower (the Kerzereh), it wiH kill liim."— 
 Thevejwf. 
 
 3-1 
 
THE VEILED PROPHET OP KHOEASSAN. 
 
 To see those fires, no matter whence they rise. 
 
 Once more illuming my fair Priestess' eyes ; 
 
 And should the youth, whom soon those eyes shall warm, 
 
 Indeed resemble thy dead lover's form. 
 
 So much the happier wilt thou find thy doom, 
 
 As one warm lover, full of hfe and bloom. 
 
 Excels ten thousand cold ones in the tomb. 
 
 Nay, nay, no frowning, sweet ! — those eyes were made 
 
 For love, not anger ; — I must be obey'd." 
 
 " Obey'd ! — 'tis well — yes, I deserve it all — 
 On me, on me Heaven's vengeance cannot fall 
 Too heavily — ^but Azim, brave and true 
 And beautiful — must he be ruin'd too ? 
 Must lie, too, glorious as he is, be driven 
 A renegade, like me, from love and heaven ? 
 Like me ? — weak wretch ! I wrong him — not like me ; 
 No — he's aU. truth and strength and purity ! 
 Fill up your madd'ning hell-cup to the brim. 
 Its witchery, fiends, will have no charm for him ; 
 Let loose your glowing wantons from their bowers, 
 He loves, he loves, and can defy their powers ! 
 Wretch as I am, in Jds heart still I reign 
 Pure as when first we met, without a stain ! 
 Though ruin'd — lost, — my memory, like a charm 
 Left by the dead, still keeps his soul from harm. 
 Oh ! never let him know how deep the brow 
 He kiss'd at parting is dishonour'd now, — 
 Ne'er tell him how debas'd, how sunk is she. 
 Whom once he lov'd — once ! — still loves dotingly ! 
 Thou laugh'st, tormentor, — what ! thou'lt brand my name ? 
 Do, do — in vain— he'll not believe my shame ; 
 
LALLA EOOKPI. 
 
 He thinks me true — that nought beneath God's sky 
 
 Could tempt or change me, and — so once thought I. 
 
 But this is past, — though worse than death my lot — 
 
 Than hell — 'tis nothing, while he knows it not. 
 
 Far off to some benighted land I'll fly. 
 
 Where sunbeam ne'er shall enter till I die ; 
 
 Where none will ask the lost one whence she came. 
 
 But I may fade and fall without a name ! 
 
 And thou — curst man or fiend, whate'er thou art. 
 
 Who found' st this burning plague-spot in my heart, 
 
 And spread'st it — oh, so quick ! — thro' soul and frame, 
 
 AVith more than demon's art, till I became 
 
 A loathsome thing, all pestilence, all flame ! — 
 
 If, when I'm gone " 
 
 " Hold, fearless maniac ! hold. 
 Nor tempt my rage, — by Heaven not half so bold 
 The puny bird that dares, with teazing hum, 
 Within the crocodile's stretch'd jaws to come ! * 
 And so thou'lt fly, forsooth ? — what ! give up all 
 Thy chaste dominion in the Haram hall. 
 Where now to Love and now to Alia given. 
 Half mistress and half saint, thou hang'st as even 
 As doth Medina's tomb 'twixt hell and heaven ! 
 Thou'lt fly ? — as easily may reptiles run. 
 The gaunt snake once hath fix'd his eyes upon; 
 As easily, when caught, the prey may be 
 Pluck' d from his loving folds, as thou from me. 
 
 * Tlie ancicut story concerning the Trochilus or humming- bii-d, entertng with 
 impunity into the mouth of the crocodile, is firmly beheved at Java." — Barrow's 
 
 Cochiti-ihiiiii. 
 
 36 
 
THE YEILBD PROPHET OP KHOBASSAN. 
 
 No, no, 'tis fix'd — let good or ill betide, 
 
 Thou'rt mine till death — till death Mokanna's bride ! 
 
 Hast thou forgot thy oath?" 
 
 At this dread word, 
 The maid, whose spirit his rude taunts had stirr'd 
 Through all its depths, and rous'd an anger there. 
 That burst and Ughten'd ev^n through her despair. 
 Shrunk back, as if a bUght were in the breath 
 That spoke that word, and staggered, pale as death. 
 
 " Yes, my sworn bride, let others seek in bowers 
 Their bridal place — the charnel vault was ours ! 
 Instead of scents and balms, for thee and me 
 Rose the rich steams of sweet mortahty; — 
 Gay, flickering death-lights shone while we were wed, 
 And, for our guests, a row of goodly dead 
 (Immortal spirits in their time, no doubt), 
 From reeking shrouds upon the rite looked out ! 
 That oath thou heard' st more hps than thine repeat, — 
 That cup — thou shudderest, lady — was it sweet ? 
 That cup we pledg'd, the charnel's choicest wine. 
 Hath bound thee — aye, body and soul all mine ; 
 Bound thee by chains that, whether blest or curst 
 No matter now, not hell itself shall burst ! 
 Hence, woman, to the Haram, and look gay, 
 Look wild, look — anything but sad ; yet, stay — 
 One moment more, — ^from what this night hath pass'd, 
 I see thou know'st me, know'st me well at last. 
 Ha ! ha ! — and so, fond thing, thou thought' st all true. 
 And that I love mankind ! — I do, I do — 
 As victims, love them ; as the sea-dog doats 
 Upon the small, sweet fry that round him floats ; 
 
 37 
 
Or as the Nile-bird loves the slime that gives 
 That rank and venomous food on which she Uves ! *- 
 And, now thou see'st my sours angelic hue, 
 'Tis time these features were uncurtain'd too ; — 
 
 * Circinn easdem ripas (Ni]i, viz-) ales est Ibis. Ea serpentium populatur ova, gra- 
 tissimamque ex his escam nidis siiis refeH.— Solimi/i. 
 
THE VEILED PROPHET OK KHOBASSAN. 
 
 This brow, whose light — 0, rare celestial light ! — 
 Hath been reserv'd to bless thy favour'd sight ; 
 These dazzHng eyes, before whose shrouded might 
 Thou'st seen immortal Man kneel down and quake, — 
 Would that they ivere Heaven's Ughtnings for his sake ! 
 But turn and look — then wonder, if thou wilt. 
 That I should hate, should take revenge, by guilt. 
 Upon the hand, whose mischief or whose mirth 
 Sent me thus maim''d and monstrous upon earth ; 
 And on that race who, though more vile they be 
 Than mowing apes, are demigods to me ! 
 Here — judge if hell, with all its power to damn. 
 Can add one curse to the foul thing I am ! " 
 
 He raised his Veil — the Maid turned slowly round. 
 Looked at him — shriek' d — and sunk upon the ground ! 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 On their arrival, next night, at the place of encampment, 
 they were siorprised and delighted to find the groves all 
 round illuminated ; some artists of Tamtcheou having been 
 sent on previously for the purpose. On each side of the green 
 alley, which led to the Royal Pavilion, artificial sceneries of 
 bamboo-work were erected, representing arches, minarets, and 
 towers, from which hung thousands of silken lanterns, painted 
 by the most delicate pencils of Canton. — Nothing could be 
 more beautiful than the leaves of the mango-trees and 
 acacias, shining in the light of the bamboo scenery, which 
 shed a lustre round as soft as that of the nights of Peristan. 
 
 Lalla Bookh, however, who was too much occupied by the 
 sad story of Zelica and her lover to give a thought to any- 
 thing else, except, perhaps, hiin who related it, hurried on 
 through this scene of splendour to her pavilion, — greatly to 
 the mortification of the poor artists of Tamtcheou, — and was 
 followed with equal rapidity by the Great Chamberlain, cursing, 
 as he went, that ancient Mandarin, whose parental anxiety in 
 lighting up the shores of the lake, where his beloved daughter 
 had wandered and been lost, was the origin of these fantastic 
 Chinese illuminations. 
 
 "Without a moment's delay young Feeamorz was introduced ; 
 and Fadladeen, who could never make up his mind as to the 
 merits of a poet till he knew the religions sect to which he 
 belonged, was about to ask him whether he was a Shia or 
 a Sooni, when Lalla Rookh impatiently clapped her hands for 
 silence, and the youth, being seated upon the musnud near her, 
 proceeded : — 
 
 40 
 
THE VEILED PEOPHET Of KHOIUSSAN. 
 
 Peepaee thy soul, young Azim ! — thou hast brav'd 
 The bands of Grreece, still mighty though enslaved ; 
 Hast fac'd her phalanx, arm'd with all its fame, 
 Her Macedonian pikes and globes of flame ; 
 All this hast fronted, with firm heart and brow, 
 But a more perilous trial waits thee now, — 
 Woman's bright eyes — a dazzling host of eyes. 
 From every land where woman smUes or sighs ; 
 Of every hue, as Love may chance to raise 
 His black or azure banner in their blaze ; 
 And each sweet mode of warfare, from the flash 
 That lightens boldly through the shadowy lash. 
 To the sly, steahng splendours, almost hid. 
 Like swords half sheathed, beneath the downcast lid. 
 Such, Azj.M, is the lovely, luminous host 
 Now led against thee ; and, let conquerors boast 
 Their fields of fame, he who in virtue arms 
 A young, warm spirit against beauty's charms. 
 Who feels her brightness, yet defies her thrall. 
 Is the best, bravest conqueror of them all. 
 
 Now, through the Haram chambers, moving lights 
 And busy shapes proclaim the toilet's rites ; 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 From room to room the ready handmaids hie, 
 
 Some sMird to wreath the turban tastefully. 
 
 Or hang the veil, in negHgence of shade, 
 
 O'er the warm blushes of the youthful maid, 
 
 Who, if between the folds but one eye shone. 
 
 Like Seba's Queen, could vanquish with that one :* — 
 
 While some bring leaves of henna, to imbue 
 
 The fingers' ends with a bright roseate hue, t 
 
 So bright, that ia the mirror's depth they seem 
 
 Like tips of coral branches in the stream ; 
 
 And others mix the Kohol's jetty dye, 
 
 To give that long, dark languish to the eye, { 
 
 Which makes the maids, whom kings are proud to cull 
 
 From fair Circassia's vales, so beautiful ! 
 
 All is in motion ; rings and plumes and pearls 
 Are shining everywhere : — some younger girls 
 Are gone by moonhght to the garden beds. 
 To gather fresh, cool chaplets for their heads ; 
 Gay creatures ! sweet, though mournful, 'tis to see 
 How each prefers a garland from that tree 
 Which brings to mind her cliildhood's innocent day. 
 And the dear fields and friendships far away. 
 The maid of India, blest again to hold 
 In her fuU lap the Champac's leaves of gold, § 
 
 * " Thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes." — Solomon's Sot';/. 
 
 t " They tinged the ends of her fingers scarlet with henna, so that they resembled 
 branches of coral." — Story of Frnice Fitttun in Bahanlaiinsh. 
 
 X " The women blacken the inside of their eyelids with a powder named the black 
 Kohol." — RmseL 
 
 § "The appearance of the blossoms of the gold-colom-ed Campac on the black hair 
 of the Indian women has supphed the Sanscrit poets with many elegajit aJlusions." — 
 A>iii.tHc Heaeareliea, vol. iv. 
 
THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 
 
 Thinks of the time when, by the Ganges' flood, 
 Her little playmates scattered many a bud 
 Upon her long black hair, with glossy gleam, 
 Just dripping from the consecrated stream ; 
 While the young Arab, haunted by the smell 
 Of her own mountain flowers, as by a spell, — 
 The sweet Elcaya,* and that courteous tree 
 AVhich bows to all who seek its canopy, f — 
 Sees, call'd up round her by these magic scents. 
 The well, the camels, and her father's tents ; 
 Sighs for the home she left with little pain, 
 And wishes eVn its sorrows back again ! 
 
 Meanwhile, through vast illuminated halls. 
 Silent and bright, where nothing but the falls 
 Of fragrant waters, gushing with cool sound 
 From many a jasper fount, is heard around, 
 Young AziM roams bewilder' d, nor can guess 
 What means this maze of Hght and loneliness. 
 Here, the way leads o'er tessellated floors 
 Or mats of Cairo, through long corridors. 
 Where, rang'd in cassolets and silver urns. 
 Sweet wood of aloe or of sandal burns ; 
 And spicy rods, such as illume at night 
 The bowers of Tibet, J send forth odorous hght. 
 Like Peris' wands, when pointing out the road 
 For some pure Spirit to its blest abode ! — 
 
 * "A tree famous for its perfome, and coramoii on tke hiJls of Yemen." — JVieiukr. 
 
 t Of tlie genus Mymosa^ " which droops its branches whenever any person approaches 
 it, seeming as if it saluted those who retire under its shade." — Nlehulir. 
 
 X " Cloves are a principal mgredient in the composition of the pei-iumed rods, which 
 men of rank keep constantly burning in their presence."— Ttfrwcr'.-; Tihpt. 
 
 43 
 
And here, at once, the glittering saloon 
 
 Bursts on his sight, boundless and bright as noon; 
 
THE VEILED PROPHET OP KH0RAS8AN. 
 
 Wliere, in the midst, reflecting back the rays 
 In broken rainbows, a fresh fountain plays 
 High as th' enamelled cupola, which towers. 
 All rich with arabesques of gold and flowers : 
 And the mosaic floor beneath shines through 
 The sprinkling of that fountain's silvery dew. 
 Like the wet, glistening shells, of every dye. 
 That on the margin of the Eed Sea he. 
 
 Here, too, he traces the kind visitings 
 Of woman's love ia those fair, hving things 
 Of land and wave, whose fate — ^ia bondage thrown 
 For their weak lovehness — is hke her own ! 
 On one side, gleaming with a sudden grace 
 Through water brilhant as the crystal vase 
 Through which it undulates, small fishes shine, 
 Like golden ingots from a fairy mine ; 
 While, on the other, lattic'd lightly in 
 With odoriferous woods of Comorin, * 
 Each brilliant bird that wings the air is seen ; — 
 Gay, sparkhng loories, such as gleam between 
 The crimson blossoms of the coral tree, f 
 In the warm isles of India's sunny sea : 
 Mecca's blue sacred pigeon, f and the thrush 
 Of Hindostan, § whose holy warblings gush. 
 
 ' " C'est d'ou vient le bois d'aloes, que les Arabes appeUent Oud Comari, et celui du 
 sandal, qui s'y trouve en graude quautit^." — D'JIerbelot. 
 
 t " Tbousands of variegated loories visit the coral-trees." — Barrotv. 
 
 t " In Mecca there are quantities of blue pigeons, which none will affright or abuse, 
 much less Idll." — Fitfs Account of the Mahometans, 
 
 § " The pagoda thrush is esteemed among the first choristers of India. It sits 
 perched on the sacred pagodas, and from thence delivers its melodious song." — Pen- 
 nunfg Hindostan. 
 
LALLA ROOKH. 
 
 At evening, from the tall pagoda's top ; — 
 Those golden birds that, in the spice time, drop 
 About the gardens, drunk with that sweet food 
 Whose scent hath lur'd them o'er the summer flood ; * 
 And those that under Araby's soft sun 
 Build their high nests of budding cinnamon ; t — 
 In short, all rare and beauteous things that fly 
 Through the pure element, here calmly lie 
 Sleeping in light, like the green birds J that dwell 
 In Eden's radiant fields of asphodel ! 
 
 So on, through scenes past all imagining, — 
 More like the luxuries of that impious king, § 
 Whom Death's dark angel, with his lightning torch, 
 Struck down and blasted ev'n in Pleasure's porch. 
 Than the pure dwelling of a Prophet sent, 
 Arm'd with Heaven's sword, for man's enfranchisement- 
 Young AziM wander' d, looking sternly round. 
 His simple garb and war -boots' clanking sound 
 But ill according with the pomp and grace 
 And silent lull of that voluptuous place ! 
 
 " Is this, then," thought the youth, " is this the way 
 To free man's spirit from the deadening sway 
 
 • Birds of paradise, which, at the nutmeg season, come in flights from the southern 
 isles to India ; and " the strength of the nutmeg," says Tavemier, " so intoxicates them 
 that they fall dead dnuik to the earth." 
 
 t " That bird which liveth in Arabia, and buildeth its nest with cinnamon." — Brovm^a 
 Vulgar JSrrors. 
 
 X " The spirits of the martyrs win be lodged in the crops of green birds." — G-ihhon, 
 vol. is., p. 421. 
 
 § Shedad, who made the dehcious gardens of Irim, in imitation of Paradise, and 
 \v;is destroyed by lightning the first time he attempted to ent«r thorn. 
 
 4f; 
 
THE VEILED PEOPHET OF KHOEASSAN. 
 
 Of worldly sloth ; — to teach him, while he liveS, 
 
 To know no bhss but that which virtue gives, 
 
 And when he dies to leave his lofty name 
 
 A light, a land-mark on the cliffs of fame ? 
 
 It was not so, land of the generous thought 
 
 And daring deed ! thy god-hke sages taught ; 
 
 It was not thus, in bowers of wanton ease, 
 
 Thy Freedom nursM her sacred energies ; 
 
 Oh ! not beneath th^ enfeebling, withering glow 
 
 Of such dull luxury did those myrtles grow. 
 
 With which she wreath'd her sword, when she would dare 
 
 Immortal deeds ; but ia the bracing air 
 
 Of toil — of temperance, — of that high, rare. 
 
 Ethereal virtue, which alone can breathe 
 
 Life, health, and lustre into Freedom's wreath ! 
 
 Who, that surveys this span of earth we press. 
 
 This speck of life in time's great wilderness, 
 
 This narrow isthmus 'twixt two boundless seas, 
 
 The past, the future — two eternities ! — 
 
 Would sully the bright spot or leave it bare. 
 
 When he might build him a proud temple there, 
 
 A name, that long shall hallow all its space. 
 
 And be each purer soul's high resting-place ! 
 
 But no — ^it cannot be, that one, whom God 
 
 Has sent to break the wizard Falsehood's rod, — 
 
 A Prophet of the Truth, whose mission draws 
 
 Its rights from Heaven, should thus profane his cause 
 
 With the world's vulgar pomps ; — no, no — I see — 
 
 He thinks me weak — this glare of luxury 
 
 Is but to tempt, to try the eaglet gaze 
 
 Of my young soul ; — shine on, 'twill stand the blaze ! " 
 
LALLA KOOKH. 
 
 So though the youth ; — but, ev'n while he defied 
 This witching scenej he felt its witchery glide 
 Through every sense. The perfume, breathing round. 
 Like a pervading spirit ; — the still sound 
 Of falling waters, lulling as the song 
 Of Indian bees at sunset, when they throng 
 Around the fragrant Nihca, and deep 
 In its blue blossoms hum themselves to sleep ! * 
 And music, too — dear music ! that can touch 
 Beyond all else the soul that loves it much — 
 Now heard far off, so far as but to seem 
 Like the faint, exquisite music of a dream ; — 
 All was too much for him, too full of bliss. 
 The heart could nothing feel, that felt not this ; 
 Softened he sunk upon a couch, and gave 
 His soul up to sweet thoughts, hke wave on wave 
 Succeeding in smooth seas, when storms are laid ; — 
 He thought of Zelica, his own dear maid, 
 And of the time when, full of bUssful sighs. 
 They sat, and look'd into each other's eyes. 
 Silent and happy — as if God had given 
 Nought else worth looking at on this side heaven ! 
 
 " O my loVd mistress ! whose enchantments still 
 Are with me, round me, wander where I wiU — 
 It is for thee, for thee alone I seek 
 The paths of glory — to Ught up thy cheek 
 With warm approval — in that gentle look 
 To read my praise, as in an angel's book, 
 
 ' " My Pandits assure mc that the plant before us (the NiJica) is their Sephalica, 
 thus named because the bees are supposed to sleep on its blossolns." — Sir W. Jone^, 
 
THE VEILED PROPHET OP KHORASSAN. 
 
 And think all toils rewarded, when from thee 
 
 I gain a smile, worth immortality ! 
 
 How shall I bear the moment, when restorM 
 
 To that young heart where I alone am lord. 
 
 Though of such bhss unworthy, — since the best 
 
 Alone deserve to be the happiest ! — 
 
 When from those lips, unbreathM upon for years, 
 
 I shall agaia kiss off the soul-felt tears, 
 
 And find those tears warm as when last they started. 
 
 Those sacred kisses pure as when we parted ! 
 
 my own life ! — ^why should a siagle day, 
 
 A moment keep me from those arms away ?" 
 
 While thus he thinks, still nearer on the breeze 
 Come those delicious, dream-hke harmonies. 
 Bach note of which but adds new, downy Unks 
 To the soft chaia ia which his spirit sinks. 
 He turns him toward the sound, and, far away. 
 Through a long vista, sparkhng with the play 
 Of countless lamps, — hke the rich track which day 
 Leaves on the waters, when he sinks from us ; 
 So long the path, its light so tremulous, — 
 He sees a group of female forms advance. 
 Some chained together in the mazy dance 
 By fetters, forg'd in the green sunny bowers. 
 As they were captives to the King of Flowers ; — 
 And some disporting round, unhnk'd and free, 
 Who seemed to mock their sisters' slavery, 
 And round and round them still, in wheeling flight. 
 Went, like gay moths about a lamp at night ; 
 While others wak'd, as gracefully along 
 Their feet kept time, the very soul of song 
 
 G 49 
 
LALLA BOOKH. 
 
 Prom psaltery, pipe, and lutes of heavenly thrill. 
 
 Or their own youthful voices, heavenlier still ! 
 
 And now they come — now pass before his eye. 
 
 Forms such as Nature moulds, when she would vie 
 
 With Fancy's pencil, and give birth to things 
 
 Lovely beyond its fairest picturings ! 
 
 Awhile they dance before him, then divide. 
 
 Breaking, like rosy clouds at even-tide 
 
 Around the rich pavilion of the sun, — 
 
 Till silently dispersing, one by one. 
 
 Through many a path that from the chamber leads 
 
 To gardens, terraces, and moonlight meads, 
 
 Their distant laughter comes upon the wind. 
 
 And but one trembling nymph remains behind, — 
 
 Beck'ning them back in vain, for they are gone. 
 
 And she is left in all that hght alone ; 
 
 No veil to curtain o'er her beauteous brow, 
 
 In its young bashfukiess more beauteous now ; 
 
 But a light, golden chain-work round her hair. 
 
 Such as the maids of Yezd and Shiraz wear. 
 
 From which, on either side, gracefully hung 
 
 A golden amulet, in th' Ai-ab tongue, 
 
 Engraven o'er with some immortal line 
 
 From holy writ, or bard scarce less divine ; 
 
 While her left hand, as shrinkingly she stood. 
 
 Held a small lute of gold and sandal-wood, 
 
 Which, once or twice, she toucli'd with hurried strain. 
 
 Then took her trembling fingers off again. 
 
 But when at length a timid glance she stole 
 
 At AziM, the sweet gravity of soul 
 
 She saw through all his features calm'd her fear. 
 
 And, like a half-tam'd antelope, more near. 
 
THE VEILED PROPHET OP KHOBASSAN. 
 
 Though shrinking still, she came ; — then sat her down 
 
 Upon a musnud's * edge, and, bolder grown. 
 
 In the pathetic mode of Isfahan f 
 
 Touch'd a preluding strain, and thus began : — 
 
 There's a bower of roses by Bendemeer's J str'eam. 
 And the nightingale sings round it all the day long ; 
 
 In the time of my childhood 'twas Hke a sweet dream, 
 To sit in the roses, and hear the bird's song. 
 
 * Muanuds are cushioned seats, usually reserved for persons of distinction, 
 t The Persians, like the ancient Greeks, caU their musical modes, or perdas, by the 
 names of different countries or cities, as the mode of Isfahan, the mode of Irak, &c. 
 X A river which flows near the ruins of Chilminar. 
 
 61 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 That bower and its music I never forget, 
 
 But oft when alone, in the bloom of the year, 
 
 I think — is the nightingale singing there yet ? 
 
 Are the roses still bright by the calm Bendemeer ? 
 
 No, the roses soon wither'd that hung o'er the wave. 
 
 But some blossoms were gather' d, while freshly they shone. 
 And a dew was distill'd from their flowers, that gave 
 
 All the fragrance of summer, when summer was gone. 
 Thus memory draws from delight, ere it dies. 
 
 An essence that breathes of it many a year ; 
 Thus bright to my soul, as 'twas then to my eyes. 
 
 Is that bower on the banks of the calm Bendemeer ! 
 
 " Poor maiden ! " thought the youth, " if thou wert sent. 
 With thy soft lute and beauty's blandishment. 
 To wake unholy wishes in this heart. 
 Or tempt its truth, thou httle know'st thfe art ; 
 For though thy lip should sweetly counsel wrong. 
 Those vestal eyes would disavow its song. 
 But thou hast breath' d such purity, thy lay 
 Returns so fondly to youth's \-irtuous day. 
 And leads thy soul — if e'er it wander'd thence — 
 So gently back to its first innocence, 
 That I would sooner stop th' unchained dove. 
 When swift returning to its home of love. 
 And round its snowy wing new fetters twine. 
 Than turn from virtue one pure wish of thine ! " 
 
 Scarce had this feeling pass'd, when, sparkling through 
 The gently open'd. curtains of Hght blue 
 That veil'd the breezy casement, countless ej'cs. 
 Peeping like stars through the blue evening skies. 
 
THE VEILKD PKOPHET OP KHORASSAN. 
 
 Look'd laughing in^ as if to mock the pair 
 That sat so still and melancholy there. 
 And now the curtaias fly apart, and in 
 Prom the cool air, 'mid showers of jessamine. 
 Which those without fling after them ia play. 
 Two lightsome maidens spring, Hghtsome as they 
 Who hve in th' air on odottrs, and around 
 The bright saloon, scarce conscious of the ground. 
 Chase one another, in a varying dance 
 Of mirth and languor, coyness and advance. 
 Too eloquently Kke love's warm pursuit ; — 
 While she, who sung so gently to the lute 
 Her dream of home, steals timidly away, 
 Shriuking as violets do in summer's ray, — 
 But takes with her from Azim's heart that sigh 
 We sometimes give to forms that pass us by 
 In the world's crowd, too lovely to remain — 
 Creatures of light we never spe again ! 
 
 Around the white necks of the nymphs who danc'd 
 Hung carcanets of orient gems, that glanc'd 
 More brilliant than the sea-glass ghttering o'er 
 The hills of crystal on the Caspian shore ; * 
 While from their long, dark tresses, in a fall 
 Of curls descending, bells as musical 
 As those that, on the golden-shafted trees 
 Of Eden, shake in the eternal breeze, t 
 
 * " To tlie north of us (on the coast of tlie Caspian, near Badfcu) was a mountain, 
 whicli sparkled like diamonds, arising from the sea^glass and crystals witli wMcli it 
 abounds," — Jowrney of the Jiussiajt Ambassador to Persia^ 174<J. 
 
 t " To whicli will be added, the sound of the bells hanging on the trees, which 
 will be put in motion by the wind proceeding from the throne of God, as often as the 
 blessed wish for music." — Sale. 
 
 53 
 
LALLA ROOKH. 
 
 Rung round their steps, at every bound more sweet, 
 
 As 'twere tV ecstatic language of their feet ! 
 
 At length the chase was o'er, and they stood wreath'd 
 
 Within each other's arms ; while soft there breath'd 
 
 Through the cool casement, mingled with the sighs 
 
 Of moonUght flowers, music that seem'd to rise 
 
 From some still lake, so Hquidly it rose ; 
 
 And, as it swell'd again at each faint close. 
 
 The ear could track, through all that maze of chords 
 
 And young sweet voices, these impassion'd words : — 
 
 A Spirit there is, whose fragrant sigh 
 Is burning now through earth and air ; 
 
 AVhere cheeks are blushing, the Spirit is nigh. 
 Where lips are meeting, the Spirit is there ! 
 
 His breath is the soul of flowers like these. 
 And his floating eyes — tili ! they resemble 
 
 Blue water-lihes,* when the breeze 
 
 Is making the stream around them tremble ! 
 
 Hail to thee, hail to thee, kindhng power ! 
 
 Spirit of Love, Spirit of Bliss ! 
 Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour, 
 
 And there never was moonlight so sweet as this. 
 
 By the fair and brave, 
 
 Who blushing unite. 
 Like the sun and wave. 
 
 When they meet at night ! 
 
 * The bine Intns, which grows in Cashmere and in Persia. 
 
 hi 
 
THE VEILED PROPHET OP KHORASSAN. 
 
 By the tear that shows 
 
 When passion is nigh^ 
 As the rain-drop flows 
 
 From the heat of the sky ! 
 
 By the iirst love-beat 
 
 Of the youthful hearty — 
 By the bliss to meet, 
 
 And. the pain to part ! 
 
 By aU that thou hast 
 
 To mortals given, 
 Which — oh ! could it last. 
 
 This earth were heaven ! — 
 
 We call thee hither, entranciag Powgr ! 
 
 Spirit of Love 1 Spirit of BHss ! 
 Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour. 
 
 And there never was moonlight so sweet as this. 
 
 Impatient of a scene whose luxuries stole. 
 Spite of himself, too deep into his soul, 
 And where, 'midst all that the young heart loves most. 
 Flowers, music, smiles, to yield was to be lost. 
 The youth had started up, and turn'd away 
 From the light nymphs and their luxurious lay. 
 To muse upon the pictures that hung round, — 
 Bright images, that spoke without a sound. 
 And views, like vistas into fairy ground. 
 But here again new spells came o'er his sense ; — 
 All that the pencil's mute omnipotence 
 
 55 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 Could call up into Ufe of soft and fair, 
 Of fond and passionate, was glowing there ; 
 Nor yet too warm, but touched with that fine art 
 Which paints of pleasure but the purer part ; 
 Which knows ev'n Beauty when half-veiled is best, 
 Like her own radiant planet of the west. 
 Whose orb when half retired looks loveliest ! 
 There hung the history of the Genii-King, 
 Traced through each gay, voluptuous wandering 
 With her from Saba's bowers, ia whose bright eyes 
 He read that to be blest is to be wise ; * 
 Here fond Zuleika t woos with open arms 
 The Hebrew boy, who flies from her young charms. 
 Yet, flying, turns to gaze, and, half undone. 
 Wishes that heaven and she could both be won ! 
 An d here Mohammed, born for love and guile. 
 Forgets the Koran in his Mary's smile, — 
 Then beckons some kind angel from above 
 With a new text to consecrate their love ! J 
 
 With rapid step, yet pleas' d and lingeriag eye, 
 Did the youth pass these pictur'd stories by. 
 And hasten' d to a casement, where the light 
 Of the calm moon came in, and freshly bright 
 The fields without were seen, sleeping as still 
 As if no life remain'd in breeze or rill. 
 
 * For tlie loves of King Solomon (who was supposed to preside over the whole 
 nice of G-enii) with Ballds, the Queen of Sheba or Saba, vide Xf^Kerbelot and the Notes 
 u/i the Koran, chap. ii. 
 
 t The wife of Potiphar, thus named by the Orientals. Her adventure with the 
 patriarch Joseph is the subject of majiy of their poems and romances. 
 
 X The particulars of Mahomet's amour with Mary, the Coptic girl, in justification 
 of which he added a new chapter to the Koran, may be found in Gin])iier's Notes upmi 
 Ahulfeda, p. 161. 
 
THE VEILED PBOPHET OF KHOKASSAN. 
 
 Here paus'd he, while the music, now less near, 
 Breathed with a hoKer language on his ear. 
 As though the distance, and that heavenly ray 
 Through which the sounds came floating, took away 
 All that had been too earthly in the lay. 
 Oh ! could he listen to such sounds unmov'd, 
 And by that light — nor dream of her he lov'd ? 
 Dream on, unconscious boy ! while yet thou mayst ; 
 'Tis the last bliss thy soul shall ever taste. 
 Clasp yet awhile her image to thy heart. 
 Ere all the hght, that made it dear, depart. 
 Think of her smiles as when thou saw'st them last. 
 Clear, beautiful, by nought of earth o'ercast ; 
 Recall her tears, to thee at parting given. 
 Pure as they weep, if angels weep^ in heaven ! 
 Think in her own stiU bower she waits thee now, 
 With the same glow of heart and bloom of brow. 
 Yet shrin'd in solitude — ^thine all, thine only. 
 Like the one star above thee, bright and lonely ! 
 Oh ! that a dream so sweet, so long enjoy' d. 
 Should be so sadly, cruelly destroyed ! 
 
 The song is hush'd, the laughing nymphs are flown, 
 And he is left, musing of bliss, alone ; — 
 Alone ? — no, not alone — that heavy sigh. 
 That sob of grief, which broke from some one nigh — 
 Whose could it be ? — alas ! is misery found 
 Here, even here, on this enchanted ground ? 
 He turns, and sees a female form, close veil'd. 
 Leaning, as if both heart and strength had fail'd. 
 Against a pillar near ; — not ghttering o'er 
 With gems and wreaths, such as the others wore, 
 
 H 57 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 But in that deep-blue, melancholy dress, * 
 
 Bokhara's maidens wear in mindfulness 
 
 Of friends or kindred dead or far away, — 
 
 And such as Zelica had on that day 
 
 He left her, — when, with heart too full to speak. 
 
 He took away her last warm tears upon his cheek. 
 
 A strange emotion stirs within him — ^more 
 Than mere compassion ever wak'd before ; 
 Unconsciously he opes his arms, while she 
 Springs forward, as with life's last energy, 
 But, swooning in that one convulsive bound. 
 Sinks, ere she reach his arms, upon the gTound ; 
 Her veil falls off — her faint hands clasp his knees- 
 'Tis she herself ! — 'tis Zelica he sees ! 
 But, ah ! so pale, so chang'd — none but a lover 
 Could in that wreck of beauty's shrine discover 
 The once ador'd divinity ! — even he 
 Stood for some moments mute, and doubtingly 
 Put back the ringlets from her brow, and gaz'd 
 Upon those lids, where once such lustre blaz'd, 
 Ere he could think she was indeed his own. 
 Own darhng maid, whom he so long had known 
 In joy and sorrow, beautiful in both ; 
 Who, ev'n when grief was heaviest — when loth 
 He left her for the wars — in that worst hour 
 Sat in her sorrow Uke the sweet night-flower, t 
 When darkness brings its weeping glories out, 
 And spreads its sighs like frankincense about ! 
 
 * "Deep blue is their mourniiig colour." — Manicay. 
 
 t Tlie eorrowfiil nyctanthes, which begins to spead its rich odour after sunset. 
 
THE VEILED PBOPHET OV KHOBASSAN. 
 
 " Look up, my Zelica — one moment show 
 Those gentle eyes to me, that I may know 
 Thy hfe, thy loveliness is not all gone, 
 But then?, at least, shines as it ever shone. 
 Come, look upon thy Azim — one dear glance. 
 Like those of old, were heaven ! — whatever chance 
 Hath brought thee here, oh ! ^twas a blessed one ! 
 There — my sweet Uds — they move — ^that kiss hath run 
 Like the first shoot of life through every vein, 
 And now I clasp her, mine, all mine again ! 
 Oh, the delight ! — ^now, in this very hour. 
 When, had the whole rich world been in my power, 
 I should have singled out thee, only thee. 
 From the whole world's collected treasury — 
 To have thee here — to hang thus fondly o'er 
 My own best, purest Zelioa once more !" 
 
 It was indeed the touch of those lov'd lips 
 Upon her eyes that chas'd their short echpse. 
 And, gradual as the snow, at heaven's breath. 
 Melts off and shows the azure flowers beneath. 
 Her lids unclos'd, and the bright eyes were seen 
 Gazing on his, — not, as they late had been. 
 Quick, restless, wild, but mournfully serene ; 
 As if to he, ev'n for that tranced minute. 
 So near his heart, had consolation in it ; 
 An d thus to wake in his belov'd caress 
 Took from her soul one half its wretchedness. 
 But, when she heard him call her good and pure. 
 Oh, 'twas too much — too dreadful to endure ! 
 Shuddering she broke away from his embrace, 
 And, hiding with both hands her guilty face, 
 
 59 
 
LALLA KOOKTf. 
 
 Said, in a tone whose anguish would have riven 
 A heart of very marble, " Pure ! — Heaven ! " 
 
 That tone — those looks so chang'd — the withering blight. 
 That sin and sorrow leave where'er they light — 
 The dead despondency of those sunk eyes. 
 Where once, had he thus met her by surprise. 
 He would have seen himself, too happy boy ! 
 Reflected in a thousand lights of joy ; — 
 And then the place, that bright unholy place. 
 Where vice lay hid beneath each winning grace 
 And charm of luxury, as the viper weaves 
 Its wily covering of sweet balsam-leaves ;* — 
 All struck upon his heart, sudden and cold 
 As death itself ; — it needs not to be told — 
 No, no — he sees it all, plain as the brand 
 Of burning shame can mark — whate'er the hand. 
 That could from heaven and him such brightness sever, 
 'Tis done — to heaven and him she's lost for ever ! 
 It was a dreadful moment ; not the tears. 
 The lingering, lasting misery of years. 
 Could' match that minute's anguish — all the worst 
 Of sorrow's elements in that dark burst 
 Broke o'er his soul, and, with one crash of fate. 
 Laid the whole hopes of his life desolate ! 
 
 " Oh ! curse me not \" she cried, as wild he toss'd 
 His desperate hand tow'rds heaven — " though I am lost. 
 
 * " Conceim'ng the vipers, whicli Pliny says were frequent among the balsam-trees, 
 I made very particular inquiry ; several were brought me ahve, both to Tambo and 
 Jidda." — Brvccy 
 
 en 
 
Think not that guilt, that falsehood made me fall, 
 
 No, no — ■'twas grief, 'twas madness did it aU ! 
 
 Nay, doubt me not — though all thy love hath ceas'd — 
 
 I know it hath — yet, yet beheve, at least, 
 
 That every spark of reason's hght must be 
 
 Quenoh'd in this brain, ere I could stray from thee ! 
 
 They told me thou wert dead — why, Azim, why 
 
 Did we not, both of us, that instant die, 
 
 When we were parted ? — oh ! couldst thou but know 
 
 With what a deep devotedness of woe 
 
 I wept thy absence — o'er and o'er again 
 
 Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew pain, 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 And memory, like a drop that night and day 
 Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away ! — 
 Didst thou but know how pale I sat at home. 
 My eyes still turned the way thou wert to come. 
 And, all the long, long night of hope and fear. 
 Thy voice and step still sounding ia my ear, — 
 
 God ! thou wouldst not wonder that, at last. 
 When every hope was all at once overcast, — 
 When I heard frightful voices round me say, 
 Azim is deuil ! — this wretched brain gave way. 
 And I became a wreck, at random driven. 
 Without one glimpse of reason or of heaven, — 
 All wild — and ev'n this quenchless love within 
 Turn'd to foul fires to light me into sin ! 
 
 Thou pitiest me — I knew thou wouldst — that sky 
 
 Hath nought beneath it half so lorn as I. 
 
 The fiend who lured me hither — hist ! come near. 
 
 Or thou too, til oil. art lost, if he should hear — 
 
 Told me such things — oh ! with such devilish art. 
 
 As would have ruin'd even a holier heart — 
 
 Of thee, and of that ever-radiant sphere. 
 
 Where, bless'd at length, if I but served Jiiiit, here, 
 
 1 should for ever Uve in thy dear sight, 
 
 And drink from those pure eyes eternal light ! 
 Think, think how lost, how maddened I must be. 
 To hope that guilt could lead to God or thee ! 
 Thou weep'st for me — do, weep — oh ! that I durst 
 Kiss oS" that tear ! but, no — these lips are curst. 
 They must not touch thee ; — one divine caress. 
 One blessed moment of forgetfulness, 
 I've had within those arms, and that shall lie, 
 Shrin'd in my soul's deep memory till I die — 
 
THE VEILED PEOPHET OP KHOEASSAN. 
 
 The last of joy's last relics here below, 
 
 Tlie one sweet drop, in aU tHs waste of woe. 
 
 My lieart lias treasur'd from affection's spring, 
 
 To soothe and cool its deadly withering ! 
 
 But thou — yes, thou must go, for ever go ; 
 
 This place is not for thee — for thee ! oh, no ; 
 
 Did I but tell thee half, thy tortur'd brain 
 
 Would burn like mine, and mine go wild again ! 
 
 Enough, that Guilt reigns here — that hearts, once good, 
 
 Now tainted, chUl'd, and broken, are his food; — 
 
 Enough, that we are parted — that there rolls 
 
 A flood of headlong fate between our souls. 
 
 Whose darkness severs me as wide from thee 
 
 As heU from heaven, to aU eternity ! " — 
 
 " Zewoa ! Zelica ! " the youth exclaim' d. 
 In all the tortures of a mind inflam'd 
 Almost to madness, — " by that sacred heaven. 
 Where yet, if prayers can move, thou'lt be forgiven. 
 As thou art here — here, in this writhing heart. 
 All sinful, wild, and ruin'd as thou art ! — 
 By the remembrance of our once pure love. 
 Which, like a church-yard light, still bums above 
 The grave of our lost souls — which guilt in thee 
 Cannot extinguish, nor despair in me ! — 
 I do conjure, implore thee to fly hence ; 
 If thou hast yet one spark of innocence. 
 
 Fly with me from this place " 
 
 "With thee! bliss ! 
 'Tis worth whole years of torment to hear this ! 
 What ! take the lost one with thee ? — let her rove 
 By thy dear side, as in those days of love, 
 
 63 
 
LALLA EOOKH.. 
 
 When we were both so happy^ both so pure ? 
 Too heavenly dream ! if there^s on earth a cure 
 For the sunk hearty 'tis this — day after day 
 To be the blest companion of thy way ; — 
 To hear thy angel eloquence — to see 
 Those virtuous eyes for ever tum'd on me ; 
 Ajad, in their light reohasten'd silently^ 
 Like the stain'd web that whitens in the sun, 
 Grow pure by being purely shone upon ! 
 And thou wilt pray for me — I know thou wilt ; 
 At the dim vesper hour, when thoughts of guilt 
 Come heaviest o'er the heart, thou'lt lift thine eyes, 
 Full of sweet tears, unto the darkening skies. 
 And plead for me with Heaven, till I can dare 
 To fix my own weak, sinful glances there ; — 
 Till the good angels, when they see m.e cling 
 For ever near thee, pale and sorrowing, 
 Shall for thy sake pronounce my soul forgiven. 
 And bid thee take thy weeping slave to heaven ! 
 Oh, yes, I'll % with thee " 
 
 Scarce had she said 
 These breathless words, when a voice deep and dread 
 As that of Monker, waking up the dead 
 From their first sleep — so startling 'twas to both — 
 Rung through the casement near, " Thy oath ! thy oath ! " 
 Heaven ! the ghastliness of that Maid's look ! — 
 " 'Tis he ! " faintly she cried, while terror shook 
 Her inmost core, nor durst she hft her eyes. 
 Though thro' the casement now, nought but the skies 
 And moonlight fields were seen, calm as before ; — 
 " 'Tis he, and I am his — all, all is o'er ! 
 
 6* 
 
THE VEILED PROPHET OP KHORASSAN. 
 
 Go — fly tliis instant, or thou'rt ruin'd too ; 
 
 My oath, my oatli — God ! 'tis all too true. 
 
 True as the worm in this cold heart it is — 
 
 I am Mokanna's bride — his, Azim, his : 
 
 The dead stood round us while I spoke that vow. 
 
 Their blue lips echo'd it — I hear them now ! 
 
 Their eyes glar'd on me, while I pledged that bowl — 
 
 'Twas burning blood — I feel it in my soul ! 
 
 And the Veiled Bridegroom — hist ! Fve seen to-night 
 
 What angels know not of — so foul a sight. 
 
 So horrible — oh ! never mayst thou see 
 
 What there lies hid from all but hell and me ! 
 
 But I must hence — off, off ! — I am not thine. 
 
 Nor Heaven's, nor Love's, nor aught that is divine — 
 
 Hold me not — ha ! think' st thou the fiends that sever 
 
 Hearts, cannot sunder hands? — thus, then — for ever ! " 
 
 With all that strength which madness lends the weak 
 She flung away his arm ; and, with a shriek, — 
 Whose sound, though he should linger out more years 
 Than wretch e'er told, can never leave his ears, — 
 Flew up through that long avenue of Hght, 
 Fleetly as some dark, ominous bird of night 
 Across the sun, and soon was out of sight ! 
 
 65 
 
LALLA ROOKH. 
 
 Lalla Rookh could think of nothing all day but the misery 
 of these tNYO young lovers. Her gaiety was gone, and she looked 
 pensively even upon Fadladeen. She felt too, without knowing 
 why, a sort of uneasy pleasure in imagining that Azim must 
 have been just such a youth as Feeamorz, — -just as worthy to 
 enjoy all the blessings, without any of the pangs, of that 
 illusive passion, which too often, like the sunny apples of 
 Istkahar, is all sweetness on one side, and all bitterness on the 
 other. 
 
 As they passed along a sequestered river after sunset, they 
 saw a young Hindoo girl upon the bank, whose employment 
 seemed to them so strange, that they stopped their palankeens 
 to observe her. She had Ughted a small lamp, filled yn£h oil 
 of cocoa, and placing it in an earthen dish, adorned with a 
 wreath of flowers, had committed it ■(\'ith a trembling hand to 
 the stream, and was now anxiously watching its progress down 
 the current, heedless of the gay cavalcade which had drawn 
 up beside her. Lalla Rookh was all cmiosity ; — when one of 
 her attendants, who had Hved upon the banks of the Ganges 
 (where this ceremony is so frequent, that often, in the dusk 
 of the evening, the river is seen glittering all over with lights, 
 like the Oton-tala, or Sua of Stars), informed the Princess that 
 it was the usual way in which the friends of those who had 
 gone on dangerous voyages offered up vows for their safe 
 return. If the lamp sunk immediately, the omen was dis- 
 astrous ; but if it went shining down the stream, and continued 
 to bum till entu-ely out of sight, the return of the beloved 
 object was considered as certain. 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 liALLA RoOKH, as they moved on, more than once looked back, 
 to observe how the young Hindoo's lamp proceeded ; and, while 
 she saw with pleasure that it was still unextinguished, she could 
 not help fearing that all the hopes of this life were no better 
 than that feeble light upon the river. The remainder of the 
 journey was passed in silence. She now, for the first time, felt 
 that shade of melancholy, which comes over the youthful 
 maiden's heart, as sweet and transient as her own breath upon 
 a m.irror ; nor was it till she heard the lute of Eeeamorz, 
 touched lightly at the door of her pavilion, that she waked 
 from the reverie in which she had been wandering. Instantly 
 her eyes were lighted up with pleasure ; and, after a few 
 unheard remarks from Fadladeen, upon the indecorum of a 
 poet seating himself in presence of a Princess, everything was 
 arranged as on the preceding evening, and all listened with 
 eagerness, while the story was thus continued : — 
 

 Whose are the gilded tents that crowd the way, 
 Where all was waste and silent yesterday ? — 
 This City of War which, in a few short hours, 
 Hath sprung up here, as if the magic powers 
 Of him who, in the twinkling of a star. 
 Built the high pillared halls of Chilminar, * 
 Had conjur'd ujd, far as the eye can see. 
 This world of tents and domes and sun-bright armoury !- 
 Princely pavilions, screen' d by many a fold 
 Of crimson cloth, and topp'd with balls of gold ; — 
 
 ♦ The edifices of Chilminar and Balbec arc supposed to have been built by the 
 Genii, acting under the orders of Jan ben Jan, who governed the world long before 
 the time of Adani, 
 
THE VEILED FKOPHET OF KHORASSAN. 
 
 Steeds, with their housings of rich silver spun, 
 Theii- chains and poitrels gUttering in, the sun ; 
 And camels, tufted o'er with Yemen's shells. 
 Shaking in every breeze their light-ton'd bells ! 
 
 But yester-eve, so motionless around. 
 So mute was this wide plain, that not a souud 
 But the far torrent, or the locust-bird * 
 Hunting among the thickets, could be heard ; — 
 Yet hark ! what discords now, of every kind, 
 Shouts, laughs, and screams, are revelling in the wind ! 
 The neigh of cavahy, the tinkling throngs 
 Of laden camels, and their drivers' songs ; — 
 Ringing of arms, and flapping in the breeze 
 Of streamers from ten thousand canopies ; — 
 War-music, bursting out from time to time 
 With gong and tymbalon's tremendous chime ; — 
 Or, in the pause, when harsher sounds are mute. 
 The mellow breathings of some horn or flute, 
 That far off, broken by the eagle note 
 Of th' Abyssinian trumpet, t swell and float ! 
 
 AVTio leads this mighty army? — ask ye "who?" 
 And mark ye not those banners of dark hue. 
 The Night and Shadow, J over yonder tent ? — 
 It is the Caliph's glorious armament. 
 
 ♦ A native of Khorassan, and alliuecl southward by means of the water of a 
 fountain between Shiraz and Ispahan, called the Fountain of Birds, of which it is so 
 fond, that it wOl follow wherever that water is carried. 
 
 t ** This trumpet is often called in Abyssinia, Nesser Cano, which signifies, the Note 
 of the Eagle." — Note of Bruee's Bditor. 
 
 X The two black standards boi'ne before the Caliphs of the house of Abbas were 
 called, allegorically, the Night and the Shadow. — Vide Gibbon. 
 
 69 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 Rous'd in his palace by the dread alarms 
 That hourly came, of the false Prophet's arms, 
 And of his host of infidels, who hurFd 
 Defiance fierce at Islam * and the world ; — 
 Though worn with Grecian warfare, and behind 
 The veils of his bright palace calm reclin'd, 
 Yet brook' d he not such blasphemy should stain. 
 Thus unreveng'd, the evening of his reign ; 
 But, having sworn upon the Holy Grave t 
 To conquer or to perish, once more gave 
 His shadowy banners proudly to the breeze. 
 And, with an army nurs'd in victories. 
 Here stands to crush the rebels that o'errun 
 His blest and beauteous Province of the Sun. 
 
 Ne'er did the march of Mahadi display 
 Such pomp before — not ev'n when on his way 
 To Mecca's temple, when both land and sea 
 Were spoil'd to feed the pilgrim's luxury ; J — 
 When round him, mid the burning sands, he saw 
 Fruits of the north in icy freshness thaw. 
 And cool'd his thirsty hp, beneath the glow 
 Of Mecca's sun, with urns of Persian snow : § — 
 Nor e'er did armament more grand than that 
 Pour from the kingdoms of the CaUphat. 
 
 * The Mahometan religion. 
 
 t "The Persians swear by the tomb of Shah Besade, who is buried at Casbin; 
 iind when one desires another to asseverate a matter, ho wUI ask him if he dai'C swear 
 l>y the Holy G-ravc." — Sfnii/. 
 
 X Mahadi, m ii, single pilgrimage to Mecca, expended sis milhons of dinars of 
 gold. 
 
 § Nivem Moccam apportavit, rem ibi aut nunquam aut rare visam. — Ahtdfeda. 
 
 70 
 
THE VEILED PROPHET Of KHOBASSAN. 
 
 First, in the van, the People of the Rock, * 
 
 On their Hght mountain steeds, of royal stock : t 
 
 Then, chieftains of Damascus, proud to see 
 
 The flashing of their swords' rich marquetry ; J — 
 
 Men, from the regions near the Volga's mouth, 
 
 Mix'd with the rude, black archers of the south ; 
 
 And Indian lancers, in white-turban'd ranks. 
 
 Prom the far Sinde, or Attock's sacred banks. 
 
 With dusky legions from the Land of Myrrh, § 
 
 And many a mace-arm'd Moor and Mid-Sea islander. 
 
 Nor less in number, though more new and rude 
 In warfare's school, was the vast multitude 
 That, fir'd by zeal, or by oppression wrong' d, 
 Eound the white standard of th' Impostor throng'd. 
 Beside his thousands of Believers — blind. 
 Burning, and headlong, as the Samiel wind, — 
 Many who felt, and more who fear'd to feel. 
 The bloody Islamite's converting steel. 
 Flock' d to his banner ; — chiefs of th' Uzbek race, 
 Waving their heron crests with martial grace ; || 
 Turkomans, countless as their flocks, led forth 
 From th' aromatic pastures of the North ; 
 
 * The inliabitants of Hejaz, or Arabia Petraea, called by an Eastern writer, "the 
 People of the Rock." — Ebn Saukal. 
 
 t " Those horses, called by the Arabians Kochlani, of whom a written genealogy 
 has been kept for 2000 years. They are said to derive their origin from King Solomon's 
 steeds." — Niehulir. 
 
 t " Many of the figures on the blades of their swords are wrought in gold or 
 silver, or in marquetry with small gems." — Asiat. Misc.^ vol. i. 
 
 § Aaab, or Saba. 
 
 II " The chiefs of the Uzbek Tartars wear a phmie of white heron's feathers in their 
 tm-bans." — Aceomit of Independertf Tajrtary. 
 
 71 
 
LALLA ROOKtr. 
 
 Wild warriors of tlie turquoise HUs,* — and tbose 
 WIlo dwell beyond the everlasting snows 
 Of Hindoo Kosh, t in stormy freedom bred^ 
 Their fort the rock, their camp the torrent's bed. 
 But none, of all who own'd the Chief's command, 
 Rush'd to that battle-field with bolder hand 
 Or sterner hate than Iran's outlaw'd men. 
 Her worshippers of Fire I — all panting then 
 For vengeance on th' accursed Saracen ; — 
 A^engeance at last for their dear country spurn'd, 
 Hur throne usurp'd, and her bright shrines o'erturn'd. 
 From Yezd's § eternal Mansion of the Fire, 
 Where aged saints in dreams of heaven expire ; 
 From Badku, and those fountains of blue flame 
 That burn into the Caspian, || fierce they came, 
 Careless for what or whom the blow was sped, 
 So vengeance triumph'd, and their tyrants bled ! 
 
 Such was the wild and miscellaneous host, 
 That high in air their motley banners toss'd 
 
 " In the mountains of Nishaponr and Tons (in Khorassan) tliey find turquoises.— 
 Jifjii Haukal. 
 
 t For ii description of these 8tT-i]icndous rnnges of mountains, vide Efphtnsfoiie^n 
 Ciubvl. 
 
 % The Ghebers, or Guebrcs, those original natives of Persia who adhered to their 
 anciont faith, the religion of Zoroaster, and who, after the conquest of their country 
 by the Arabs, weie either persecuted at home, or forced to become wanderers abroad. 
 
 § " Yczd, the chief residence of those ancient natives who worship the Sim and the 
 Fire, which latter they have carefolly kept lighted, without being once extinguished for 
 a moment, above 3000 years, on a moimtain near Tezd, called Ater Quedali, signifying, 
 the House or Mansion of the Fii-e. He is reckoned very nnfortimate who dies off that 
 mountain." — Stephen' g Persia. 
 
 II " When the w^eather is ]iaz3', the springs of naptha (on an island near Baku) boil 
 up the higher, and the naptha often takes fire on the surface of the eai-tli, and runs 
 in a flame into the sea to a distance almost incredible."- /fntm-ai/ on the Everlagtinfi Fire 
 tit Bnki'. 
 
THE VEILED PKOl'HET OF KIIOKASSAN. 
 
 Around the Prophet-Chief— all eyes still bent 
 Upon that glittering Veil, where'er it went, 
 That beacon through the battle's stormy flood, 
 That rainbow of the field, whose showers were blood ! 
 
 Twice hath the sun upon their conflict set. 
 And ris'n again, and found them grappling yet ; 
 While steams of carnage, in his noon-tide blaze. 
 Smoke up to heaven — hot as that crimson haze. 
 By which the prostrate caravan is aVd, 
 In the red desert, when the wind 's abroad ! 
 " On, Swords of God ! " the panting CaHph calls, — 
 " Thrones for the living — heaven for him who falls ! " — 
 " On, brave avengers, on ! " Mokanna cries, 
 " And Eblis blast the recreant slave that flies !" 
 Now comes the brunt, the crisis of the day — 
 They clash — ^they strive — ^the Caliph's troops give way ! 
 Mokanna's self plucks the black banner down. 
 And now the Orient World's imperial crown 
 Is just within his grasp — when, hark, that shout ! 
 Some hand hath check'd the flying Moslems' rout, 
 And now they turn — they rally — at their head 
 A warrior (like those angel youths, who led. 
 In glorious panoply of heaven's own mail. 
 The Champions of the Faith through Beder's vale,) * 
 Bold, as if gifted with ten thousand lives. 
 Turns on the fierce pursuers' blades, and drives 
 At once the multitudinous torrent back. 
 While hope and courage kindle in his track, 
 
 * In tlie great victory gained by Mahomed at Beder, he was assisted, say the 
 Mussuhnans, by three thousand angels, led by Gabriel, moimted on his horse Hiazum. 
 — The Koran and itit Commentatorn. 
 
LAIJiA EOOKH. 
 
 And^ at each step^ his bloody falchion makes 
 Terrible vistas through which victory breaks ! 
 In vain Mokanna^ 'midst the general flightj 
 StandSj like the red moon, on some stormy night, 
 Among the fugitive clouds that, hurrying by, 
 Leave only her unshaken in the sky ! — 
 In vain he yells his desperate curses out. 
 Deals death promiscuously to all about. 
 To foes that charge and coward friends that fly. 
 And seems of all the great Arch-enemy ! 
 The panic spreads — " A miracle ! " throughout 
 The Moslem ranks, " A miracle !" they shout, 
 All gazing on that youth, whose coming seems 
 A Hght, a glory, such as breaks in dreams ; 
 And every sword, true as o'er biUows dim 
 The needle tracks the load-star, following him ! 
 
 Eight tow'rds j\Iokanna now he cleaves his path- 
 Impatient clcas'cs, as though the bolt of wrath 
 He bears from heaven -withheld its awful burst 
 From weaker heads, and souls but half-way curst, 
 T(i break o'er him, the mightiest and the worst ! 
 But vain his speed — though, in that hour of blood, 
 Had all God's seraphs round Mokanna stood. 
 With swords of fire, ready like fate to fall, 
 Mokanna's soul would have defied them all ; — 
 Yet now, the rush of fugitives, too strong 
 For human force, hurries ev'n him along ; 
 In vain he struggles 'mid the wedg'd array 
 Of flying thousands, he is borne away ; 
 And the sole joy his baffled sj^irit knows 
 In this forc'd flight is — laurdering, as he goes ! 
 
THE VEILED I'KOPHET 01' KIIOBASSAN. 
 
 As a grim tiger, wtom the torrent's might 
 Surprises in some parch'd raviae at night, 
 Turns, ev'n in drowning, on the wretched iiocks 
 Swept with him. in. that snow-flood from the rocks. 
 And, to the last, devouring on his way. 
 Bloodies the stream he hath not power to stay ! 
 
 " Alia ilia Alia ! " — the glad shout renew — ■ 
 " Alia Akbar !" * — the Caliph's in Merou. 
 Hang out your gilded tapestry in the streets. 
 And light your shrines, and chaunt your ziraleets ; t 
 The Swords of God have triumph' d — on his throne 
 Your CaHph sits, and the Veil'd Chief hath flown. 
 Who does not envy that young warrior now. 
 To whom the Lord of Islam bends his brow. 
 In aU the graceful gratitude of power. 
 For his throne's safety in that perilous hour ? 
 Who doth not wonder, when, amidst th' acclaim 
 Of thousands, heralding to heaven his name — 
 'Mid all those hoher harmonies of fame, 
 Which sound along the path of virtuous souls, 
 Like music round a planet as it rolls, — 
 He turns away coldly, as if some gloom 
 Hung o'er his heart, no triumphs can illume — 
 Some sightless grief, upon whose blasted gaze 
 Though glory's light may play, in vain it plays I 
 Yes, wretched Azim ! thine is such a grief, 
 Beyond all hope, all terror, all reUef ; 
 
 • "The Teotiir, or cry of the Arabs, 'AUa Akbar !' " gays QoUisy, "means, 'God 
 is most mighty.' " 
 
 t The zu'aleet is a kiad of chorus, which the women gt the East sing upon joyful 
 occasions. — Uusael. 
 
 75 
 
I.AI.I.A KDOKir. 
 
 A dark, cold calm, which nothing now can break. 
 Or warm, or brighten, — like that Syrian lake,* 
 Upon whose surface morn and sum^mer shed 
 Their smiles in vain, for all beneath is dead ! 
 Hearts there have been, o^er which this weight of woe 
 Came by long use of suffering, tame and slow ; 
 But thine, lost youth ! was sudden — over thee 
 It broke at once, when all seem'd ecstasy ; 
 When Hope look^'d up, and saw the gloomy Past 
 Melt into splendour, and Bliss dawn at last — 
 'Twas then, ev'n then, o'er joys so freshly blown. 
 This mortal blight of misery came down ; 
 Ev'n then, the full, warm gushings of thy heart 
 Were check'd — like fount-drops, frozen as they start ; 
 And there, like them, cold, sunless relics hang, 
 Each &x'd and chilFd into a lasting pang ! 
 
 One sole desire, one passion now remains. 
 To keep life's fever still within his veins, — 
 Vengeance ! — dire vengeance on the wretch who cast 
 O'er him and all he lov'd that ruinous blast. 
 For this, when rumours reach' d him in his flight 
 Far, far away, after that fatal night, — 
 Rumours of armies, thronging to th' attack 
 Of the Veil'd Chief, — for this he wing'd him back, 
 Fleet as the vulture speeds to flags unfurl' d. 
 And came when all seem'd lost, and wildly hurl'd 
 Himself into the scale, and sav'd a world ! 
 For this he still Uves on, careless of all 
 The wreaths that glory on his path lets fall ; 
 
 * The Dead Sea, which contains neither animal nor vegetable hfe. 
 
THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHOEASMAN. 
 
 For this alone exists — like lightning-fire 
 To speed one bolt of vengeance, and expire ! 
 
 But safe as yet that Spirit of Evil lives ; 
 With a small band of desperate fugitives, 
 The last sole stubborn fragment, left unriven. 
 Of the proud host that late stood fronting heaven. 
 He gain'd Merou — breath' d a short curse of blood 
 O'er his lost throne — then pass'd the Jihon's flood, * 
 And gathering all whose madness of beHef 
 Still saw a saviour in their down-faU'n chief, 
 Rais'd the white banner within Neksheb's gates, f 
 And there, untam'd, th' approaching conqueror waits. 
 
 Of all his Haram, all that busy hive. 
 With music and with sweets sparkling alive. 
 He took but one, the partner of his flight. 
 One, not for love — not for her beauty's light — 
 For Zelica stood withering 'midst the gay. 
 Wan as the blossom that feU yesterday 
 From th' Alma tree and dies, while overhead 
 To-day's young flower is springing in its stead ! J 
 No, not for love — the deepest damn'd must be 
 Touch'd with heaven's glory, ere such fiends as he 
 Can feel one glimpse of love's divinity ! 
 But no, she is his victim ; — tliere He all 
 Her charms for him — charms that can never pall. 
 
 * The ancient Oxus. t A city of Transoxiania. 
 
 X '* You never can cast yom* eyes on this tree, but you meet tliere either blossoms 
 or fruit; and as the blossom drops underneath on the ground (which is frequently 
 covered with these purple-coloured flowers), others come forth iu their stead." &c. &c. 
 — Nieiihoff. 
 
 77 
 
LA LI, A EOOKH. 
 
 As long as liell within his heart can stir, 
 
 Or one faint trace of heaven is left in her. 
 
 To work an angel's ruin — to behold 
 
 As white a page as virtue e'er unroll'd 
 
 Blacken, beneath his touch, into a scroll 
 
 Of damning sins, seal'd with a burning soul — 
 
 This is his triumph ; this the joy accurst. 
 
 That ranks him among demons all but first ! 
 
 This gives the victim, that before him Ues 
 
 Blighted and lost, a glory in his eyes — 
 
 A light like that with which hell-fire illumes 
 
 The ghastly, writhing wretch whom it consumes ! 
 
 But other tasks now wait him — tasks that need 
 All the deep daringness of thought and deed 
 With which the Dives * have gifted him — for mark, 
 Over yon plains, which night had else made dai-k, 
 Those lanterns, countless as the winged lights 
 That spangle India's fields on showery nights ; f 
 Far as the formidable gleams they shed. 
 The mighty tents of the beleaguerer spread, 
 Ghmmering along th' horizon's dusky line. 
 And thence in nearer circles, till they shine 
 Among the founts and groves, o'er which the town 
 In all its arm'd magnificence looks down. 
 Yet, fearless, from his lofty battlements, 
 MoKANNA \'iuws that multitude of tents ; 
 Nay, smiles to think that, though entoil'd, beset. 
 Not less than mj^riads dare to front him yet ; — 
 
 ♦ The demons of the Persian in;\-thology. 
 
 t Carreri mentions the iire-flics in India during tiic rainy reason.— Kic/e lii& Trufeltt. 
 
THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHOEASSAN. 
 
 That friendless, throneless, he thus stands at bay, 
 
 Ev'n thus a match for myriads such as they ! 
 
 " Oh ! for a sweep of that dark Angel's wing, 
 
 Who brushed the thousands of th' Assyrian king * 
 
 To darkness in a moment, that I might 
 
 People hell's chambers with yon host to-night ! 
 
 But come what may, let who will grasp the throne. 
 
 Caliph or Prophet, Man alike shall groan ; 
 
 Let who will torture him, priest — caliph — king — 
 
 Alike this loathsome world of his shall ring 
 
 With victims' shrieks and bowlings of the slave, — 
 
 Sounds that shall glad me ev'n within my grave ! " 
 
 Thus to himself — ^but to the scanty train 
 
 Still left around him, a far different strain : — 
 
 " Glorious defenders of the sacred crown 
 
 I bear from heaven, whose light nor blood shall drown 
 
 Nor shadow of earth eclipse; — before whose gems 
 
 The paly pomp of this world's diadems. 
 
 The crown of Gerashid, the pillar' d throne 
 
 Of Parvis, f and the heron crest that shone, J 
 
 Magnificent, o'er All's beauteous eyes, § 
 
 Fade like the stars when morn is in the skies : 
 
 Warriors rejoice — the port to which we've pass'd 
 
 O'er destiny's dark wave, beams out at last ! 
 
 Victory's our own — 'tis written in that book 
 
 Upon whose leaves none but the angels look. 
 
 * Sennacherib, called by the Orientals King of Moussal. — D'Rerbclof. 
 
 t Chosroes. For the description of his throne or palace, Dide Gibbon and D^ HerbeJot . 
 
 X ** The crown of Gerashid is cloudy and tarnished before the heron tuft of thy 
 turban." — From one of the elegies or songs in praise of All, written in characters of 
 gold round the gallery of Abbaa's tomb, — Chardin. 
 
 § The beauty of All's eyes was so remai'kable, that whenever the Persians would 
 describe anything as very lovely, they say it is Ayn Hah, or the Eyes of Ah. — Chardlu. 
 
 7:i 
 
LALLA ROOK IT. 
 
 That Islam's sceptre shall beneath the power 
 Of her great foe fall broken in that hour, 
 When the moon's mighty orb, before all eyes, 
 From Neksheb's Holy Well portentously shall rise 
 Now turn and see !" 
 
 They turn'd, and, as he spoke, 
 A sudden splendour all around them broke, 
 And they beheld an orb, ample and bright, 
 Rise from the Holy Well, and cast its light 
 Round the rich city and the plain for miles,* — 
 Flinging such radiance o'er the gilded tiles 
 
 • " n amusa pendant deux mois lo peuple de la ville de Nekhscheb en faisant sortir 
 toutes leB nuits du fonds d'un puits un corps Imnineux semWable k la Lune, que portoit 
 aa lumi^re jusqu' a la distance dc plnsienrs milles."- frllerbeht. Hence he was called, 
 Sazendi^h Mah, or the Moon-mflkev. 
 
THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHOliASSAN. 
 
 Of many a dome and fair-roof 'd imaret, 
 
 As autumn suns shed round them when they set ! 
 
 Instant from all who saw th' illusive sign 
 
 A murmur broke— " Miraculous ! divine!'' 
 
 The G-heber boVd, thinking his idol star 
 
 Had wak'd, and burst impatient through the bar 
 
 Of midnightj to inflame him to the war ! 
 
 While he of Moussa's creed saw, in that ray. 
 
 The glorious light which, in his freedom's day. 
 
 Had rested on the Ark, * and now again 
 
 Shone out to bless the breaking of his chain ! 
 
 " To victory ! " is at once the cry of all — 
 Nor stands Mokanna loitering at that call ; 
 But instant the huge gates are flung aside. 
 And forth, Hke a diminutive mountain-tide 
 Into the boundless sea, they speed their course 
 Right on into the Moslem's mighty force. 
 The watchmen of the camp, — who, in their rounds. 
 Had paus'd, and ev'n forgot the punctual sounds 
 Of the small drum with which they count the night, j- 
 To gaze upon that supernatural light, — 
 Now sink beneath an unexpected arm. 
 And in a death- groan give their last alarm. 
 " On for the lamps, that hght yon lofty screen, J 
 Nor blunt your blades with massacre so mean ; 
 
 * The Sheohinah, called Sakinat in the Koran. — SaWs Note, chap. ii. 
 
 t The parts of the night ai-e made known as well by insti'iunents of music, as by 
 the rounds of the watchmen with cries and small drums. — Bu.rder's Oriental Cwstomg, 
 vol. i., p. 119. 
 
 + The Serrapurda, high screens of red cloth, stiffened with cane, used to inclose a 
 considerable space roimd the royal tents. — Notes on the Bahardanush. 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 There rests the Caliph — speed — one lucky lance 
 May now achieve mankind's deliverance !" 
 Desperate the die — such as they only cast, 
 Who venture for a world, and stake their last. 
 But Fate 's no longer with him — blade for blade 
 Springs up to meet them through the ghmmering shade. 
 And, as the clash is heard, new legions soon 
 Pour to the spot, — like bees of Kauzeroon * 
 To the shrill timbrel's summons, — till, at length. 
 The mighty camp swarms out in all its strength. 
 And back to Neksheb's gates, covering the plain 
 With random slaughter, drives the adventurous train ; 
 Among the last of whom, the Silver Veil 
 Is seen glittering at times, Uke the white sail 
 Of some toss'd vessel, on a stormy night. 
 Catching the tempest's momentary light ! 
 
 And hath not this brought the proud spirit low. 
 Nor dasli'd his brow, nor check' d his daring? No ! 
 Though half the wretches, whom at night he led 
 To thrones and victory, lie disgrac'd and dead. 
 Yet morning hears him, with unshrinking crest. 
 Still vaunt of thrones and victory to the rest ; — 
 And they believe him ! — oh ! the lover may 
 Distrust that look which steals his soul away ; — 
 The babe may cease to think that it can play 
 With heaven's rainbow ; — alchemists may doubt 
 The shining gold their crucible gives out ; — 
 
 • " From the gi'oves of orange-trees at Kauzeroon tlie bees cull a celebrated 
 honey." — ^furk-r'^ Traoeh. 
 
THE VEILED PEOPHET OF KHOEASSAN. 
 
 But Faith, fanatic Faith, once wedded fast 
 To some dear falsehood, hugs it to the last. 
 
 And well th' Impostor knew all lures and arts, 
 That Lucifer e'er taught to tangle hearts ; 
 Nor, 'mid these last bold workings of his plot 
 Against men's souls, is Zelica forgot. 
 lU-fated Zelica ! had reason been 
 Awake through half the horrors thou hast seen. 
 Thou never couldst have borne it— death had come 
 At once, and taken thy wrung spirit home. 
 But 'twas not so — a torpor, a suspense 
 Of thought, almost of life, came o'er the intense 
 And passionate struggles of that fearful night. 
 When her last hope of peace and heaven took flight : 
 And though, at times, a gleam of frenzy broke, — 
 As through some dull volcano's veil of smoke 
 Ominous flashings now and then will start. 
 Which show the fire 's still busy at its heart, — 
 Yet was she mostly wrapp'd in suUen gloom ; 
 Not such as Azim's, brooding o'er its doom. 
 And calm without, as is the brow of death. 
 While busy worms are gnawing underneath ! — 
 But in a blank and pulseless torpor, free 
 From thought or pain, a seal'd up apathy. 
 Which left her oft, with scarce one hving thrifl. 
 The cold, pale victim of her torturer's will. 
 
 Again, as in Merou, he had her deck'd 
 Gorgeously out, the Priestess of the sect ; 
 
 83 
 
And led her gKttering forth before the eyes 
 
 Of his rude train, as to a sacrifice ; 
 
 Palhd as she, the young, devoted bride 
 
 Of the fierce Nile, when, deckM in all the pride 
 
 Of nuptial pomp, she sinks into his tide ! * 
 
 And while the wretched maid hung down her head, 
 
 And stood, as one just risen from the dead, 
 
 * "A custom still subsisting at this day seems, to me, to prove that the Egyptians 
 formerly sacriHced a young virgin to the God of the Nile ; for they now make a statue 
 of earth in shape of a gii'l, to which they give the name of the Betrothed Bride, and 
 throw it into the river."— Siwifn/. 
 
THE VEILED PEOPHET OP KHOEASSAN. 
 
 Amid that gazing crowdj the fiend would tell 
 His credulous slaves it was some charm or spell 
 Possess'd her now, — and from that darkened trance 
 Should dawn, ere long, their faith's deliverance. 
 Or if, at times, goaded by guilty shame. 
 Her soul was rous'd, and words of wildness came. 
 Instant the bold blasphemer would translate 
 Her ravings into oracles of fate- 
 Would hail heaven's signals in her flashing eyes. 
 And call her shrieks the language of the skies ! 
 
 But vain, at length, his arts — despair is seen 
 Gathering around j and famine comes to glean 
 All that the sword had left unreap'd : — in vain 
 At morn and eve across the northern plain 
 He looks, impatient for the promis'd spears 
 Of the wild hordes and Tartar mountaineers : 
 They come not — while his fierce beleaguerers pour 
 Engines of havoc in, unknown before, 
 And horrible as new;* — javelins, that fly 
 Enwreath'd with smoky flames through the dark sky. 
 And red-hot globes that, opening as they mount. 
 Discharge, as from a kindled naphtha fount, 
 Show'rs of consuming fire o'er all below. 
 Looking, as through th' illumined night they go. 
 Like those wild birds that by the Magians oft, 
 At festivals of fire, were sent aloft 
 
 * The Greek fire, which waa occasionaEy lent by the emperors to their allies. " It 
 was," says Gribbon, " either launched in red-hot balls of stone and iron, or darted in 
 arrows and jayelins, twisted round with flax and tow, which had deeply imbibed the 
 inflammable oU." 
 
LALLA ROOKH. 
 
 Into the air, with blazing faggots tied 
 To their huge wings, scattering destruction wide ! * 
 All night, the groans of wretches who expire 
 In agony, beneath these darts of fire. 
 Ring through the city — while, descending o'er 
 Its shrines and domes and streets of sycamore ; — 
 Its lone bazaars, with their bright cloths of gold. 
 Since the last peaceful pageant left unroU'd ; — 
 Its beauteous marble baths, whose idle jets 
 Now gush with blood ; — and its taU minarets, 
 That late have stood up in the evening glare 
 Of the red sun, unhallow' d by a prayer ; — 
 O'er each, in turn, the dreadful flame-bolts fall. 
 And death and conflagration throughout all 
 The desolate city holds high festival ! 
 
 MoKANNA sees the world is his no more ; — 
 One sting at parting, and his grasp is o'er. 
 " What ! drooping now?" — thus, with unblushing cheek, 
 He hails the few, who yet can hear him speak. 
 Of all those famish'd slaves, around him lying. 
 And by the light of blazing temples dying ; — 
 " What ! drooping now ? — now, when at length we press 
 Home o'er the very threshold of success ; — 
 When Alia from our ranks hath thinn'd away 
 Those grosser branches, that kept out his ray 
 
 * " At the great festival of fire, called tlie Shab Sezd, they used to set fire to lai-ge 
 bunches of dry combustibles, fastened round wild beasts and birds, which being then 
 let loose, the air and earth iip]»eared one great iUumination ; and as these terrified 
 creatures naturally fled to the wood for shelter, it is easy to conceive the conliagrations 
 they produced." — liichardson' ti Dinnert'ifiitii. 
 
THE ■VEILED PEOPHET OF KHOBASSAN. 
 
 Of favour from us, and we stand at length. 
 
 Heirs of his light and children of his strength, 
 
 The chosen few, who shall survive the fall 
 
 Of kings and thrones, triumphant over all ! 
 
 Have you then lost, weak murmurers as you are, 
 
 All faith in him who was your Light, your Star ? 
 
 Have you forgot the eye of glory, hid 
 
 Beneath this Veil, the flashing of whose Ud 
 
 Gould, like a sun-stroke of the desert, wither 
 
 Millions of such as yonder chief brings hither ? 
 
 Long have its lightnings slept — ^too long — but now 
 
 All earth shall feel th' unveiling of this brow ! 
 
 To-night — ^yes, sainted men ! this very night — 
 
 I bid you aU to a fair festal rite, 
 
 Where, — ^having deep refreshed each weary limb 
 
 With viands such as feast heaven^ s cherubim, 
 
 And kindled up your souls, now sunk and dim. 
 
 With that pure wine the dark-eyed maids above 
 
 Keep, seaVd with precious musk, for those they love,* — 
 
 I wiU myself uncurtain in your sight 
 
 The wonders of this brow's ineffable light ; 
 
 Then lead you forth, and with a wink disperse 
 
 Yon myriads, howling through the universe ! " 
 
 Eager they listen — while each accent darts 
 New life into their chill'd and hope-sick hearts ; — 
 Such treacherous life as the cool draught suppUes 
 To him upon the stake, who drinks and dies ! 
 Wildly they point their lances to the light 
 Of the fast sinking sun, and shout " To-night ! " — 
 
 » " The righteous shall be given to drink of pure wine, sealed ; the seal whereof 
 shall be musk." — Korcmy chap. Ixxxiii. 
 
 87 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 " To-night ! " their Chief re-echoes, in a voice 
 
 Of fiend-Uke mockery, that bids hell rejoice ! 
 
 Deluded victims ! — never hath this earth 
 
 Seen mourning half so mournful as their mirth ! 
 
 Here, to the few whose iron frames had stood 
 
 This racking waste of famine and of blood, 
 
 Faintj dying wretches clung, from whom the shout 
 
 Of triumph like a maniac's laugh broke out ; — 
 
 There, others, lighted by the smouldering fire, 
 
 Danc'dj Hke wan ghosts about a funeral pyre. 
 
 Among the dead and dying strew'd around ; — 
 
 While some pale wretch looked on^ and from his wound 
 
 Plucking the fiery dart by which he bled. 
 
 In ghastly transport wav^d it o'er his head ! 
 
 'Twas more than midnight now — a fearful pause 
 Had foUow'd the long shouts, the wild applause, 
 That lately from those royal gardens burst. 
 Where the Veil'd Demon held his feast accurst, — 
 When Zblica — alas, poor ruin'd heart ! 
 In every horror doom'd to bear its part ! — 
 Was bidden to the banquet by a slave, 
 A¥ho, while his quivering Up the summons gave. 
 Grew black, as though the shadows of the grave 
 Compass'd him round, and, ere he could repeat 
 His message through, fell lifeless at her feet ! 
 Shuddering she went — a soul-felt pang of fear, 
 A presage, that her own dark doom was near, 
 Rous'd every feehng, and brought reason back 
 Once more, to writhe her last upon the rack. 
 All round seem'd tranquil — ev'n the foe had ceas'd. 
 As if aware of that demoniac feast, 
 
 88 
 
THE VEILED PEOPHET OF KHOBASSAN. 
 
 His fiery bolts ; and, though the heavens looked red, 
 
 'Twas but some distant conflagration's spread. 
 
 But hark ! — she stops — she listens — dreadful tone ! 
 
 'Tis her tormentor's laugh — and now, a groan, 
 
 A long death-groan, conies with it — can this be 
 
 The place of mirth, the bower of revelry ? 
 
 She enters — holy Alia ! what a sight 
 
 Was there before her ! By the gUmmering light 
 
 Of the pale dawn, mix'd with the flare of brands 
 
 That round lay burning, dropp'd from lifeless hands, 
 
 She saw the board, in splendid mockery spread. 
 
 Rich censers breathing — garlands overhead, — 
 
 The urns, the cups, from which they late had quaff 'd, 
 
 All gold and gems, but — ^what had been the draught ? 
 
 Oh ! who need ask, that saw those Hvid guests. 
 
 With their swoll'n heads sunk blackening on their breasts, 
 
 Or looking pale to heaven, with glassy glare. 
 
 As if they sought, but saw no mercy there ; — 
 
 As if they felt, though poison rack'd them through, 
 
 Eemorse the deadlier torment of the two ! 
 
 While some, the bravest, hardiest in the train 
 
 Of their false Chief, who, on the battle-plain. 
 
 Would have met death with transport by his side. 
 
 Here mute and helpless gasp'd ; — ^but, as they died, 
 
 Look'd horrible vengeance with their eyes' last strain, 
 
 And clench' d the slackening hand at him in vain. 
 
 Dreadful it was to see the ghastly stare. 
 The stony look of horror and despair, 
 Which some of these expiring victims cast 
 Upon their souls' tormentor to the last ; — 
 
 89 
 
lAIiLA KOUKH. 
 
 Upon that mocking iiendj whose Veil^ now raisM, 
 
 Show'd them, as in death's agony they gaz'd, 
 
 Not the long-promis'd light, the brow, whose beaming 
 
 Was to come forth, all conquering, all redeeming. 
 
 But features horribler than hell e'er trac'd 
 
 On its own brood ; — no Demon of the Waste, * 
 
 No churchyard ghole, caught lingering in the light 
 
 Of the bless'd sun, e'er blasted human sight 
 
 With lineaments so foul, so fierce as those 
 
 Th' Impostor now, in grinning mockery, shows. — 
 
 " There, ye wise saints, behold your Light, your Star,— 
 
 Ye would be dupes and victims, and ye are. 
 
 Is it enough ? or must I, while a thrill 
 
 Lives in your sapient bosoms, cheat you still ? — 
 
 Swear that the burning death ye feel within 
 
 Is but the trance, with which heaven's joys begin ; 
 
 That this foul visage, foul as e'er disgrac'd 
 
 Ev'n monstrous man, is — after God's own taste ; 
 
 And that — but see ! — ere I have half-way said 
 
 My greetings through, th' uncourteous souls are fled. 
 
 Farewell, sweet spirits ! not in vain ye die, 
 
 If Bblis loves you half so well as I. — 
 
 Ha, my young bride ! — 'tis well — take thou thy seat ; 
 
 Nay, come — no shuddering — didst thou never meet 
 
 The dead before ? — they grac'd our wedding, sweet ; 
 
 And these, my guests to-night, have brimm'd so true 
 
 Their parting cups, that tlimi shalt pledge one too. 
 
 * " The Afghauns believe each of the numerous solitudes and deserts of their 
 country to be inhabited by a lonely demon, whom they call the Ghoolee Beeabau, or 
 Spirit of the Waste, They often illustrate the wildness of any sequestered tribe, by 
 saying, they are wild sis the Demon of the Waste." — E!pfii>it.tnii^'n Caubul. 
 
THE VElLliD PEOI'HET OF KHORASSAN. 
 
 But — liow is this ? — all empty ? all drunk up ? 
 
 Hot lips have been before thee in the cup. 
 
 Young bride, — yet stay — one precious drop remains, 
 
 Enough to warm a gentle priestess' veias ; 
 
 Here, drink — -and should thy lover's conquering arms 
 Speed hither, ere thy Hp lose all its charms, 
 Give him but half this venom in thy kiss, 
 And I '11 forgive my haughty rival's bUss ! 
 
 " For me — I too must die — but not like these 
 Vile, rankhng things, to fester in the breeze ; 
 To have this brow in ruflB^an triumph shown, 
 With aU death's grimness added to its own, 
 And rot to dust beneath the taunting eyes 
 Of slaves, exclaiming, ' There his Grodship lies ! ' — 
 No — cursed race ! — since first my soul drew breath. 
 They've been my dupes, and shall be, ev'n in death. 
 Thou see'st yon cistern ia the shade — 'tis fill'd 
 With burning drugs, for this last hour distiU'd ; — 
 There wiU I plunge me, in that liquid flame — 
 Fit bath to lave a dying Prophet's frame !— 
 There perish, all — ere pulse of thine shall fail — 
 Nor leave one limb to tell mankind the tale. 
 So shall my votaries, wheresoe'er they rave, 
 Proclaim that Heaven took back the saint it gave, — 
 That I've but vanish' d from this earth awhile. 
 To come again, with bright, unshrouded smile ! 
 So shall they build me altars in their zeal. 
 Where knaves shall minister, and fools shall kneel ; 
 Where Faith may mutter o'er her mystic spell. 
 Written in blood — and Bigotry may swell 
 The sail he spreads for heaven with blasts from hell ! 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 So shall my banner, ttrough long ages, be 
 The rallying sign of fraud and anarchy ; — 
 Kings yet unborn shall rue Mokanna's name. 
 And, though I die, my spirit, still the same. 
 Shall walk abroad in all the stormy strife. 
 And guilt, and blood, that were its bhss in life ! — 
 But, hark ! their battering engine shakes the wall — 
 Why, let it shake — thus I can brave them all. 
 No trace of me shall greet them, when they come. 
 And I can trust thy faith, for — thou'lt be dumb. 
 Now mark how readily a wretch like me. 
 In one bold plunge, commences Deity ! " — 
 
 He sprung and sunk, as the last words were said- 
 Quick clos'd the burning waters o'er his head. 
 And Zelica was left — ^within the ring 
 Of those wide walls the only living thing. 
 The only wretched one, still curs'd with breath. 
 In all that frightful ^^dlderness of death ! — 
 More hke some bloodless ghost, — such as, they tell. 
 In the lone Cities of the Silent * dwell. 
 And there, unseen of all but Alia, sit 
 Each by its own pale carcase, watching it ! 
 
 But mom is up, and a fresh warfare stirs 
 Throughout the camp of the beleaguer ers. 
 Their globes of fire (the dread artillery, lent 
 By Greece to conquering Mahadi,) are spent ; 
 
 * " They have all a great reverence for burial-grounds, which they sometimes call 
 by the poetical name of Cities of the Silent, and which they people with the ghosts of 
 the departed, who sit each at the head of his o\vn grave, invisible to mortal eyes." — 
 Elphinefone. 
 
THE VEILED PROPHET OP KHOEASSAN. 
 
 And now the scorpion's shaft, the quarry sent 
 
 From high balistas, and the shielded throng 
 
 Of soldiers swinging the huge ram along, — 
 
 All speak th' impatient Islamite's intent 
 
 To try, at length, if tower and battlement 
 
 And bastion'd wall be not less hard to win. 
 
 Less tough to break down, than the hearts within. 
 
 First iu impatience and in toil is he. 
 
 The burning Azim, — oh ! could he but see 
 
 Th' Impostor once alive within his grasp. 
 
 Not the gaunt lion's hug, nor boa's clasp. 
 
 Could match that gripe of vengeance, or keep pace 
 
 With the fell heartiuess of hate's embrace ! 
 
 Loud rings the ponderous ram against the walls ; 
 Now shake the ramparts, now a buttress falls. 
 But still no breach ; — " Once more, one mighty swing 
 Of all your beams, together thundering ! " 
 There ! — the wall shakes — the shouting troops exult — 
 " Quick — quick discharge your weightiest catapult 
 Right on that spot, and Nebsheb is our own ! " — 
 'Tis done — the battlements come crashing down. 
 And the huge wall, by that stroke riv'n in two. 
 Yawning, like some old crater, rent anew. 
 Shows the dim, desolate city smoking through ! 
 But strange ! — no signs of life — ^nought hving seen 
 Above, below, — what can this stillness mean ? 
 A minute's pause suspends all hearts and eyes — 
 " In through the breach ! " impetuous Azim cries ; 
 But the cool Caliph, fearful of some wile 
 In this blank stillness, checks the troops awlule. — 
 
 93 
 
T,ALLA ROOKH. 
 
 Just then, a tigure, with slow step, advanced 
 
 Forth from the ruined walls ; and, as there glanc'd 
 
 A sunbeam over it, all eyes could see 
 
 The well-known Silver Veil !— " 'Tis he, 'tis he, 
 
 MoEiANNA, and alone ! " they shout around ; 
 
 Young AziM from his steed springs to the ground — 
 
 ' ' iMiue, holy Caliph ! mine," he cries, " the task 
 
 To crush yon daring wretch — 'tis all I ask." 
 
 Eager he darts to meet the demon foe, 
 
 ^lio still across wide heaps of ruin slow 
 
 And falteringly comes, till they are near ; 
 
 Then, with a bound, rushes on Azim's spear. 
 
 And, casting off the Veil in falling, shows — 
 
 (Jh ! — 'tis his Zelica's hfe-blood that flows ! 
 
 " I meant not, Azim," soothingly she said. 
 As on his trembling arm she lean'd her head, 
 And, looking in his face, saw anguish there 
 Beyond all wounds the quivering flesh can bear — 
 " 1 meant not thou shouldst have the pain of this ; 
 Though death, with thee tlms tasted, is a bliss 
 Thou wouldst not rob me of, didst thou but know 
 How oft I've jiray'd to God I might die so ! 
 But the fiend's venom avus too scant and slow ; — 
 To linger on were maddening — and I thought 
 If once that Veil — naj', look not on it — caught 
 The eyes of your fierce soldiery, I should be 
 Struck by a thousaml death-darts instantly. 
 But this is sweetei' — oh ! believe me, yes — 
 I would not change this sad, but dear caress. 
 This death within thy arms I would not give 
 For the most smiling life the happiest live ! 
 
THK VEILKU PKOPtlK'l' OV KIIOKASSAN. 
 
 Allj that stood dark and drear before the eye 
 
 Of my stray'd soul, is passing swiftly by; 
 
 A Hght comes o'er me from those looks of love, 
 
 Like the first dawn of mercy fcom above ; 
 
 And if thy Hps but tell me I'm forgiven. 
 
 Angels will echo the blest words in heaven ! 
 
 But live, my Azim ; — oh ! to call thee mine 
 
 Thus once again ! wy Azim ! — dream divine ! 
 
 Live, if thou ever lov'dst me, if to meet 
 
 Thy Zelica hereafter would be sweet, 
 
 Oh, live to pray for her — to bend the knee 
 
 Morning and night before that Deity, 
 
 To whom pure hps and hearts without a stain, 
 
 As thiue are, Azim, never breath'd in vain, — 
 
 And pray that He may pardon her, may take 
 
 Compassion on her soul for thy dear sake. 
 
 And, nought remembering but her love to thee, 
 
 Make her all thine, all His, eternally ! 
 
 Go to those happy fields where first we twin'd 
 
 Our youthful hearts together — ^every wind 
 
 That meets thee there, fresh from the well-known flowers 
 
 Will bring the sweetness of those innocent hours 
 
 Back to thy soul, and thou mayst feel again 
 
 For thy poor Zelica as thou didst then. 
 
 So shall thy orisons, like dew that flies 
 
 To heaven upon the morning's sunshine, rise 
 
 With all love's earliest ardom- to the skies ! 
 
 And should they — but, alas ! my senses fail — 
 
 Oh, for one minute ! — should thy prayers prevail — 
 
 If pardon'd souls may from that world of bliss 
 
 Eeveal their joy to those they love in this, — 
 
lAU.A ROOKIK 
 
 I'll come to thee — in some sweet dream — and tell — 
 Heaven ! — I die — dear love ! farewell, farewell I" 
 
 Time fleeted — years on 3ears had pass'd away, 
 And few of those who, on that mournful day, 
 Hnd stood, with pity in their eyes, to see 
 The maiden's death, and the youth's agony, 
 Were living still — when, by a tustic grave 
 Beside the swift Ainoo's transparent wave, 
 An aged man, who had grown aged there 
 By that lone grave, morning and night in prayer. 
 Fur the last time knelt down — and, though the shade 
 Of death hung darkening over him, there ]ilay'd 
 A gleam of I'npture on his eye and cheek. 
 That brighten'd even death — like ilie last streak 
 
THE VEILED PKOPHET OF KHORASSAN. 
 
 Of intense glory on th'' horizon's brinij 
 
 When night o'er all the rest hangs chill and dim ; — 
 
 His soul had seen a vision, while he slept ; 
 
 She for whose spirit he had pray'd and wept 
 
 So many years, had come to him, all drest 
 
 In angel smiles, and told him she was blest ! 
 
 For this the old man breath'd his thanks, and died. 
 
 And there, upon the banks of that lov'd tide, 
 
 He and his Zelica sleep side by side. 
 
 a? 
 
LALLA KOOKif. 
 
 The story of the Veiled Proptet of Khorassan being ended, 
 they were now doomed to hear Fadladeen's criticisms upon it. 
 A series of disappointments and accidents had occurred to this 
 learned Chamberlain during the journey. In the first place, 
 those couriers stationed, as in the reign of Shah Jehan, between 
 Delhi and the western coast of India, to secure a constant supply 
 of mangoes for the royal table, had, by some cruel irregularity, 
 failed in their duty ; and to eat any mangoes but those of Maza- 
 gong was, of course, impossible. In the next place, the elephant 
 laden with his fine antique porcelain had, in an unusual fit of 
 liveliness, shattered the whole set to pieces : — an irreparable loss, 
 as many of the vessels were so exquisitely old as to have been 
 used under the Emperors Yan and Chun, who reigned many 
 ages before the dynasty of Tang. His Koran, too, supposed to 
 be the identical copy between the leaves of which Mahomet's 
 favourite pigeon used to nestle, had been mislaid by his Koran- 
 bearer three whole days ; not without much spiritual alarm to 
 Padladeen, who, though professing to hold, with other loyal and 
 orthodox Mussulmans, that salvation could only be found in the 
 Koran, was strongly suspected of believing in his heart that it 
 could only be found in his own particular copy of it. When to 
 all these grievances is added the obstinacy of the cooks, in 
 putting the pepper of Canara into his dishes instead of the 
 
 9S 
 
LALLA BOOKH. 
 
 cinnamon of Serendib, we may easily suiDpose that he came to 
 the task of criticism with, at least, a sufficient degree of irrita- 
 bility for the purpose. 
 
 " In order," said he, importantly swinging about his chaplet 
 of pearls, " to convey with clearness my opinion of the story 
 this young man has related, it is necessary to take a review of 
 
 all the stories that have ever " "My good Fadladeen!" 
 
 exclaimed the Princess, interrupting him, " we really do not 
 deserve that you should give yourself so much trouble. Your 
 opinion of the poem we have just heard wiU, I have no doubt, 
 be abundantly edifying, without any farther waste of your 
 valuable erudition." " If that be all," replied the critic, evi- 
 dently naortified at not being allowed to show how much he 
 knew about everything but the subject immediately before 
 him, — " if that be all that is required, the matter is easily 
 dispatched." He then proceeded to analyse the poem, in that 
 strain (so well known to the unfortunate bards of Delhi), whose 
 censures were an infliction from which few recovered, and whose 
 very praises were like the honey extracted from the bitter 
 flowers of the aloe. The chief personages of the story were, if 
 he rightly understood them, an ill-favoured gentleman, with a 
 veil over his face ; — a young lady, whose reason went and came 
 according as it suited the poet's convenience to be sensible or 
 otherwise ; — and a youth in one of those hideous Bucharian 
 bonnets, who took the aforesaid gentleman in a veil for a 
 Divinity. " From such materials," said he, " what can be 
 expected? — after rivalling each other in long speeches and 
 absurdities, through some thousands of lines as indigestible as 
 the filberds of Berdaa, our friend in the veil jumps into a tub 
 of aqua-fortis ; the young lady dies in a set speech, whose only 
 
1,AL7,A ROOKW. 
 
 recommendation is that it is her last ; and the lover li^-es on 
 to a good old age, for the laudable purpose of seeing her ghost, 
 which he at last happily accomplishes, and expires. This, yon 
 will allow, is a fair summary of the story ; and if Nasser, the 
 Arabian merchant, told no better, our Holy Prophet (to whom 
 be all honour and glory !) had no need to be jealous of his 
 n.bilities for story-telling." * 
 
 With rosiiect to the •■^tyle, it was worthy of the matter ; — it 
 had not even those politic contrivances of structure, which make 
 up for the commonness of the thoughts bj' the peculiarity of the 
 
 * " La lecture de ccs Fables plaisoit si fort aux Arabes, que, quand Maliomot les 
 entretenoit de I'Histoii'O dc I'Aiicien Testament, lis les irn5prisoient, lui clisaut que celles 
 que Na.^yer leur racoutoicnt <?toient beaucoup plus belles. Cctto pix^fercnce attira ii 
 Nasser la malediction de Mahomet et de tous ses disciples." — B'Jlei-behif . 
 
 100 
 
LALLA ROOKH. 
 
 manner, nor that stately poetical pliraseology, by wliicli senti- 
 ments mean in themselves, like the blacksmith's * apron con- 
 verted into a banner, are so easily gilt and embroidered into 
 consequence. Then, as to the versification, it was, to say no 
 worse of it, execrable : it had neither the copious flow of Ferdosi, 
 the sweetness of Hafez, nor the sententious march of Sadi; but 
 appeared to him, in the uneasy heaviness of its movements, to 
 have been modelled upon the gait of a very tired dromedary. 
 The licenses, too, in which it indulged were unpardonable ; — for 
 instance, this line — and the poem abounded with such, — 
 
 Like the faint, exquisite music of a dream. 
 
 " What critic that can count," said Padladeen, " and has his full 
 complement of fingers to count withal, would tolerate for an 
 instant such syllabic superfluities?" — He here looked round, and 
 discovered that most of his audience were asleep ; while the 
 glimmering lamps seemed inclined to follow their example. It 
 became necessary, therefore, however painful to himself, to put 
 an end to his valuable animadversions for the present ; and he 
 accordingly concluded, with an air of dignified candour, thus : — 
 " notwithstanding the observations which I have thought it my 
 duty to make, it is by no means my wish to discourage the 
 young man ; — so far from it, indeed, that if he will but totally 
 alter his style of writing and thinking, I have very little doubt 
 that I shall be vastly pleased with him." 
 
 Some days elapsed, after this harangue of the Great Cham- 
 berlain, before Lalla Rookh could venture to ask for another 
 story. The youth was still a welcome guest in the pavilion — 
 
 * The blacksmitli G-ao, who successfully resisted the tyrant Zohak, and whose apron 
 became the Royal Standard of Persia. 
 
LALLA BOOKH. 
 
 to iinr. heart, perhaps, too dangerously welcome; — but all men- 
 tion of poetry was, as if by common consent, avoided. Though 
 none of the party had much respect for Fadladben, yet his 
 censures, thus magisterially delivered, evidently made an impres- 
 sion on them all. The Poet himself, to whom criticism was quite 
 a new operation (being wholly unknown in that Paradise of the 
 Indies, Cashmere), felt the shock as it is generally felt at first, 
 till use has made it more tolerable to the patient ; — the ladies 
 began to suspect that they ought not to be pleased, and seemed 
 to conclude that there must have been much good sense in what 
 Padladeen had said, from its haviag set them all so soundly 
 to sleep ; — while the self-complacent Chamberlain was left to 
 triumph in the idea of having, for the hundred and fiftieth time 
 in his life, extingnoished a poet, Lalla Rookh alone — and Love 
 knew wliy — persisted in being delighted with all she had heard, 
 and in resolving to hear more as speedily as possible. Her 
 manner, however, of first returning to the subject was unlucky. 
 It was while they rested during the heat of noon near a fountain, 
 on which some hand had rudely traced those well-known words 
 from the Garden of Sadi, — '* Many, like me, have viewed this 
 fountain, but they are gone, and their e3'es are closed for ever!" 
 — that she took occasion, from the melancholy beauty of this 
 passage, to dwell upon the charms of jioetry in general. " It is 
 true," she said, " lew poets can imitate that sublime bird, which 
 flies ahvays in the air, and never touches the earth ; * — it is 
 only once in many at^es a genius appears, whose words, like 
 those on the 'Written Mountain, last for evci' : —but still there 
 are some us delightful, perhaps, though not so wonderful, who, if 
 not stars over our hi'ad, are at least flowers along our path, and 
 
 • The Huiiin. 
 
 102 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 whose sweetness of the moment we ought gratefully to inhale, 
 without calling upon them for a brightness and a durability 
 beyond their nature. In short," continued she, blushing, as if 
 conscious of being caught ia an oration, "it is quite cruel that 
 a poet cajinot wander through his regions of enchantment, 
 without having a critic for ever, like the Old Man of the Sea, 
 upon his back ! " * — Fadladebn, it was plain, took this last 
 luckless allusion to himself, and would treasure it up in his 
 mind as a whetstone for his next criticism. A sudden silence 
 ensued ; and the Princess, glancing a look at Febamoez, saw 
 plainly she must wait for a more courageous moment. 
 
 But the glories of Nature and her wild, fragrant airs, play- 
 ing freshly over the current of youthful spirits, will soon heal 
 even deeper wounds than the dull Fadladeens of this world 
 can inflict. In an evening or two after, they came to the small 
 Valley of Gardens, which had been planted by order of the 
 Emperor for his favourite sister, Rochinara, during their pro- 
 gress to Cashmere, some years before ; and never was there 
 a more sparkling assemblage of sweets, since the Gulzar-e-Irem, 
 or Rose-bower of Irem. Every precious flower was there to be 
 found, that poetry, or love, or reHgion has ever consecrated ; 
 from the dark hyacinth, to which Hafez compares his mistress's 
 hair, to the Camalatd, by whose rosy blossoms the heaven of 
 Indra is scented. As they sat in the cool fragrance of this 
 dehoious spot, and Lalla Rookh remarked that she could 
 fancy it the abode of that flower-loving nymph whom they 
 worship in the temples of Kathay, or of one of those Peris, 
 those beautiful creatures of the air, who live upon perfumes, 
 and to whom a place like this might make some amends for 
 
 * The story of Sinbaa. 
 
 103 
 
r.ALLA ROOKH. 
 
 the Paradise they have lost, — the young Poet, in whose eyes 
 she appeared, while she spoke, to be one of the bright spiritual 
 creatures she was describing, said hesitatingly, that he remem- 
 bered a Story of a Peri, which, if the Princess had no objec- 
 tion, he would venture to relate. " It is," said he, with an 
 appealing look to Fadladeen, " in a lighter and humbler strain 
 than the other ;" then, striking a few careless but melancholy 
 chords on his kitar, he thus began : — 
 
 lO-l 
 
1 1 ~ ^. ■^i' 
 
 PARADISE AND THE PERI. 
 
 One morn, a Peri at the gate 
 Of Eden stood, disconsolate; 
 And, as she listenM to the Springs 
 
 Of Life within, Hke music flowing. 
 And caught the light upon her wings 
 
 Through the half-open portal glowing, 
 
 105 
 
LAI, LA l;i)()Kir. 
 
 She wept to think her recreant race 
 Should e'er have lost that glorious place ! 
 
 " How happy/' exclaim'd this child of air, 
 "Are the holy spirits who wander there, 
 
 'Mid flowers that never shall fade or fall ; 
 Though mine are the gardens of earth and sea, 
 And the stars themselves have flowers for me, 
 
 One blossom of heaven out-blooms them all ! 
 Though sunny the lake of cool Cashmere, 
 With its plane-tree isle reflected clear,* 
 
 And sweetly the founts of that valley fall ; — 
 Though bright are the waters of Sing-su-hay, 
 And the golden floods that thitherward stray,t 
 Yct, oh ! 'tis only the blest can say 
 
 How the waters of heaven outshine them all ! 
 
 ' ' Go, wing thy flight from star to star, 
 From world to luminous world, as far 
 
 As the universe spreads its flaming wall ; 
 Take all the pleasvircs of all the spheres. 
 And multiply each tlu'oiigh endless years, — 
 
 One minute of heaven is worth them all !" 
 
 The glorious Angel, who was keeping 
 The gates of Light, beheld her weeping ; 
 
 * " Numerous small islands emerge from the Lake of Cashmere. One is called 
 eliar Chenaur, from the plane-trees upon it."— Fi'r.^hr. 
 
 t " The Altan Kol, or Gnlder Rner of Tibet, wliich runs into the lakes of Sing- 
 Mi-hay, ha,s abundance of gold in its saiid.^. which employs the inhabitants all the 
 summer in gathering it." — Df^rripfmif of Tihef in Finl-i'r/tu) 
 
PARAUISK AND THE PEUI. 
 
 And, as he nearer drew, and listen'd 
 To her sad song, a tear-drop glisten'd 
 Within his eye-lids, like the spray 
 
 From Eden^s fountain, when it lies 
 On the blue flower, which — Bramins say — 
 
 Blooms nowhere but in Paradise ! 
 " Nymph of a fair, but erring line !" 
 Gently he said — " one hope is thine, 
 "lis written in the Book of Fate, 
 
 Tlie Perl yet may be forgiven 
 Who brings to this Eternal Gate 
 
 The Gift that is most dear to Heaven ! 
 Go, seek it, and redeem thy sin ; — 
 'Tis sweet to let the pardon'd in ! " 
 
 Rapidly as comets run 
 
 To th' embraces of the sun ; — 
 
 Fleeter than the starry brands 
 
 Flung at night from angel hands,* 
 
 At those dark and daring sprites. 
 
 Who would climb th' empyreal heights, — 
 
 Down the blue vault the Peri flies. 
 
 And, hghted earthward by a glance 
 That just then broke from morning's eyes, 
 
 Hung hovering o'er our world's expanse. 
 
 But whither shall the Spirit go 
 
 To find this gift for heav'n ? — " I know 
 
 * " The Mahometans suppose that falling stars are the firebrands wherewith the 
 good angels drive away the bad, when they approach too near the empyreum, or 
 verge of the heavens." — Frt/er, 
 
 107 
 
I.ALLA KOOKH. 
 
 The wealth," she ciies^ " of every urn, 
 
 In which unnumber'd rubies burn, 
 
 Beneath the pillars of Chilminar ; * — 
 
 I know where the Isles of Perfume are, 
 
 Many a fathom down in the sea. 
 
 To the south of sun-bright Araby ; t — 
 
 I know, too, where the Genii hid 
 
 The jewelVd cup of their king Jamshid, J 
 
 With life's elixir sparkling high — 
 
 But gifts like these are not for the sky. 
 
 Where was there ever a gem that shone 
 
 Like the steps of Alla's wonderful Throne ? 
 
 And the Drops of Life — oh ! what would they be 
 
 In the boundless Deep of Eternity?" 
 
 WMle thus she mus'd, her pinions fann'd 
 The air of that sweet Indian land 
 Whose air is balm ; whose ocean spreads 
 O'er coral rocks and amber beds ; 
 Wliose mountains^ pregnant by the beam 
 Of the warm sun, vrith diamonds teem ; 
 Whose rivulets are like rich brides, 
 Lovely, with gold beneath their tides ; 
 Whose sandal groves and bowers of spice 
 Might be a Peri's Paradise ! 
 
 * TliG Forty Pillars ; ao the Persians caU tlie ruins of Persepolis. It is imagined 
 by them that this palace, and the edifices at Balbec, were built by Genii, for the 
 purpose of hiding in theii' subterraneous caverns immense treasures, which stlU remain 
 there. — D' llefhelot, Volnei/. 
 
 t The Isles of Panchaia. 
 
 X " The cup of Jamshid, discovered, they say, when digging for the foundations 
 of FerBej)oiis.^'- -Richardson. 
 
 103 
 
PAKADISi! AND THE PEKI. 
 
 But crimson now her rivers ran 
 
 With human blood — the smell of death 
 
 Came reeking from those spicy bowers, 
 
 And man, the sacrifice of man, 
 
 Mingled his taint with every breath 
 
 Upwafted from the innocent flowers ! 
 
 Land of the Sun ! what foot invades 
 
 Thy pagods and thy pillar'd shades — 
 
 Thy cavern shrines, and idol stones, 
 
 Thy monarchs and their thousand thrones ? 
 
 'Tis he of Gazna * — fierce in wrath 
 He comes, and India's diadems 
 
 Lie scatter'd in his ruinous path, — 
 His bloodhounds he adorns with gems, 
 
 Torn from the violated necks 
 
 Of many a young and lov'd Sultana ; t — 
 Maidens, with their pure Zenana, 
 Priests in the very fane he slaughters. 
 
 And chokes up with the glittering wrecks 
 Of golden shrines the sacred waters 1 
 
 Downward the Peri turns her gaze, 
 And, through the war-field's bloody haze 
 Beholds a youthful warrior stand. 
 Alone, beside his native river, — 
 
 * Mahmood of Gazna, or Ghizni, wlio conquered India in the beginning of the 
 eleventh century.— Fitie Ms History, in Sow and Sir J. Malcolm. 
 
 t " It is reported that the hunting equipage of the Sultan Mahmoud was so mag- 
 nificent, that he kept four hundred greyhounds and bloodhounds, each of which wore 
 a collar set with jewels, and a covering edged with gold and pearls."— !7n«ii«-saZ HU- 
 tarj/, vol. iii. 
 
 109 
 
LALLA UOOKH. 
 
 The red blade broken in his hand, 
 And the last arrow in his quiver. 
 " Live/' said the conqueror, " live to share 
 The trophies and the crowns I bear ! ' ' 
 Silent that youthful warrior stood — 
 Silent he pointed to the flood 
 All crimson with his country's blood. 
 Then sent his last remaining dart, 
 For answer, to th' invader's heart. 
 
 False flew the shaft, though pointed well ; 
 The tyrant liv'd, the hero fell !^ 
 Yet mark'd the Peri where he lay. 
 
 And when the rush of war was past, 
 Swiftly descending on n ray 
 
 Of morning light, she caught the last — 
 Last glorious drop his heart had shed. 
 Before its free-born spirit fled ! 
 
 " Be this," she cried, as she wing'd her flight, 
 " My welcome gift at the Gates of Light. 
 Though foul are the drops that oft distil 
 
 On the field of warfare, blood like this. 
 
 For Liberty shed, so holy is, 
 It would not stain the purest rill. 
 
 That sparkles among the bowers of bliss ! 
 Oh ! if there be, on this earthly sphere, 
 A boon, an offering Heaven holds dear, 
 'Tis the last libation Liberty draws 
 From the heart that bleeds and breaks in her cause ! " 
 
" Sweet/' said the Angel, as she gave 
 The gift into his radiant hand, 
 
 " Sweet is our welcome of the brave, 
 Who die thus for their native land.- 
 
 111 
 
LALLA BOOKH. 
 
 But see — alas ! — the crystal bar 
 
 Of Eden moves not — holier far 
 
 Than ev'n this drop the boon must be, 
 
 That opes the Gates of Heaven for thee ! " 
 
 Her first fond hope of Eden blighted, 
 
 Now among Afric's Lunar Mountains, * 
 Far to the south, the Peri lighted. 
 
 And sleek'd her plumage at the fountains 
 Of that Egyptian tide, whose birth 
 Is hidden from the sons of earth. 
 Deep in those solitary woods. 
 Where oft the Genii of the Floods 
 Dance round the cradle of their Nile, 
 And hail the new-born giant's smile ! t 
 Thence, over Egypt's palmy groves, 
 
 Her grots, and sepulchres of kings, J; 
 The exil'd Spirit sighing roves ; 
 And now hangs listening to the doves 
 In warm Rosetta's vale § — now loves 
 
 To watch the moonlight on the wings 
 Of the white pelicaus that break 
 The azure calm of Md'ris' lake.|| 
 'T\\'as a fair scene — a land more bright 
 
 Ne\-pr did mortal eye behold ! 
 
 * " The Monntains of the ^[oon, or the Jlnntes Lniia* of antiijiiity. nt the foot of 
 which the Nile is supposed to rise." Jimc. 
 
 t " The Xile, whicli the Aiiyssinin.ns know by the names of Abey and Ala.\v^', or ths 
 
 Ibant."- .!»:.(/. Jifxenrrli., vol. 1. p. 317. 
 
 X Villi' PeiT.v's \'iew of the lA'vaiit, for an account of the sepulchres in Upper Thebes, 
 ami the nnmbL'tlL^-s ^n-ots. covered all over with hieroglyx)hics, in tlie monntaius ot 
 Upper ELi-ypt. 
 
 § " The orchards of Rosetta are filled with turtle-doves." Smniiiii. 
 
 \\ Savaiy nicritions the peiirans ni)on Lake Moeris. 
 
PABADISE AND THE PERI. 
 
 Who could have thought^ that saw this night 
 
 Those valleys and their fruits of gold 
 Basking in heaven's serenest light ; — • 
 Those groups of lovely date-trees bending 
 
 Languidly their leaf-crown' d headsj 
 Like youthful maids^ when sleep descending 
 
 Warns them to their silken beds ; * — 
 Those virgin lilies^ all the night 
 
 Bathing their beauties in the lake, 
 That they may rise more fresh and bright, 
 
 When their beloved sun's awake ; — 
 Those ruin'd shrines and towers that seem 
 The relics of a splendid dream ; 
 
 Amid whose fairy loneUness 
 Nought but the lapwing's cry is heard, 
 Nought seen but (when the shadows, flitting 
 Fast from the moon, unsheathe its gleam) 
 Some purple-wing'd sultana f sitting 
 
 Upon a column, motionless 
 And glittering, Hke an idol-bird ! — 
 Who could have thought, that there, ev'n there, 
 Amid those scenes so still and fair. 
 The Demon of the Plague hath cast 
 From his hot wing a deadher blast, 
 More mortal far than ever came 
 From the red desert's sands of flame ! 
 
 * ** The superb date- tree, whose head languidly rechnes, like that of a handsome 
 woman overcome with sleep." — Dafard el Hadad. 
 
 t " That beautiful bird, with plumage of the finest shining blue, with purple beak 
 and legs, the natural and hving ornament of the temples and palaces of the Greeks 
 and Romans, which, from the statehness of its port, as well as the brilliancy of its 
 colours, has obtained the title of Sultana." — Sonnini. 
 
 p 113 
 
LAr.LA ROOKH. 
 
 So quick^ that every living thing 
 Of human shape, touch' d by his wing, 
 Like plants, where the Simoom hath past. 
 At once falls black and withering ! 
 
 The sun went down on many a brow, 
 
 Which, full of bloom and freshness then. 
 Is rankling in the pest-house now. 
 
 And ne'er will feel that sun again ! 
 And oh ! to see th' unburied heaps 
 On which the lonely moonlight sleeps — 
 The very vultures turn away. 
 And sicken at so foul a prey ! 
 Only the fierce hyeena stalks * 
 Throughout the city's desolate walks 
 At midnight, and his carnage plies — 
 
 Woe to the half-dead wretch, who meets 
 The glaring of those large blue eyes t 
 
 Amid the darkness of the streets ! 
 
 " Poor race of Men !" said the pitying Spirit, 
 " Dearly ye pay for your primal fall — 
 Some flow'rets of Eden ye still inherit, 
 
 But the trail of the Serpent is over them all ! " 
 She wept— the air grew pure and clear 
 
 Around her, as the bright drops ran ; 
 For there's a magic in each tear. 
 
 Such kindly spirits wee]) for man ! 
 
 * Jackson, speaking of the plague that occniTed in West Barbary when he was there, 
 snys, " The birds of the au- fled away from the abodes of men. The hytenas, on the 
 contrary, visited the cemeteries," &c. 
 
 t Bruof. 
 
PABADISE AND THE PERI. 
 
 Just then, beneath some orange-trees, 
 Whose fruit and blossoms in the breeze 
 Were wantoning together, free. 
 Like age at play with infancy — 
 Beneath that fresh and springing bower. 
 
 Close by the lake, she heard the moan 
 Of one who, at this silent hour. 
 
 Had thither stolen to die alone. 
 One who in life, where'er he mov'd. 
 
 Drew after him the hearts of many ; 
 Yet now, as though he ne'er were lov'd. 
 
 Dies here, unseen, unwept by any ! 
 None to watch near him — none to slake 
 
 The fire that in his bosom Hes, 
 With ev'n a sprinkle from that lake, 
 
 Which shines so cool before his eyes. 
 No voice, well-known through many a day, 
 
 To speak the last, the parting word, 
 Which, when all other sounds decay, 
 
 Is stiU like distant music heard. 
 That tender farewell on the shore 
 Of this rude world, when all is o'er. 
 Which cheers the spirit, ere its bark 
 Puts off into the unknown dark. 
 
 Deserted youth ! one thought alone 
 
 Shed joy around his soul in death — 
 That she, whom he for years had known. 
 And lov'd, and might have call'd his own. 
 
 Was safe from this foul midnight's breath ;- 
 Safe in her father's princely halls, 
 Where the cool airs from fountain falls, 
 
LALLA ROOKH. 
 
 Freshly perfum'd by many a brand 
 Of the sweet wood from India's land^ 
 Were pure as she whose brow they fann'd. 
 
 But see, — who yonder comes by stealth. 
 
 This melancholy bower to seek, 
 Like a young envoy, sent by Health, 
 
 With rosy gifts upon her cheek ? 
 'Tis she — far off, through moonlight dim. 
 
 He knew his own betrothed bride. 
 She, who would rather die with him. 
 
 Than hve to gain the world beside ! — 
 Her arms are round her lover now. 
 
 His Uvid cheek to hers she presses. 
 And dips, to bind his burning brow. 
 
 In the cool lake her loosen'd tresses. 
 Ah ! once, how little did he think 
 An hour would come, when he should shrink 
 With horror from that dear embrace. 
 
 Those gentle arms, that were to him 
 Holy as is the cradhng-place 
 
 Of Eden's infant cherubim ! 
 And now he yields — now turns away. 
 Shuddering as if the venom lay 
 All in those proffer'd hps alone — 
 Those lips that, then so fearless grown. 
 Never until that instant came 
 Near his unask'd, or without shame. 
 " Oh ! let me only breathe the air. 
 
 The blessed air, that's breath'd by thee, 
 And, whether on its wings it bear 
 
 Healing or death, 'tis sweet to me ! 
 

 A' 
 
 / > .. 
 
 
 C<^^!r^-*' -'' s^^r^ 
 
 There, — drink my tears, while yet they fall, — 
 Would that my bosom's blood were balm, 
 
 And, well thou know'st, I'd shed it all. 
 To give thy brow one minute's calm. 
 
 117 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 Nay, turn not from me that dear face — 
 
 Am I not thine — thy own lov'd bride — 
 The one, the chosen one, whose place 
 
 In life or death is by thy side ! 
 Think' st thou that she, whose only light. 
 
 In this dim world, from thee hath shone, 
 Could bear the long, the cheerless night. 
 
 That must be hers, when thou art gone ? 
 That I can live, and let thee go. 
 Who art my life itself? — No, no — 
 When the stem dies, the leaf that grew 
 Out of its heart must perish too ! 
 Then turn to me, my own love, turn. 
 Before, like thee, I fade and bum ; 
 Cling to these yet cool lips, and share 
 The last pure life that lingers there ! " 
 She fails — she sinks — as dies the lamp 
 In charnel airs or cavern-damp. 
 So quickly do his baleful sighs 
 Quench all the sweet light of her eyes ! 
 One struggle — and his pain is past — 
 
 Her lover is no longer living ! 
 One kiss the maiden gives — one last. 
 
 Long kiss, which she expires in giving ! 
 
 " Sleep," said the Peri, as softly she stole 
 The farewell sigh of that vanishing soul. 
 As true as e'er warm'd a woman's breast — 
 " Sleep on, in visions of odour rest, 
 In balmier airs than ever yet stirr'd 
 Th' enchanted pile of that holy bird, 
 
PABADISE AND THE PEKI. 
 
 Who sings at the last his own death lay, * 
 And in music and perfume dies away ! " 
 
 Thus saying, from her lips she spread 
 
 Unearthly breathings through the place. 
 And shook her sparkling wreath, and shed 
 
 Such lustre o'er each paly face. 
 That Hke two lovely saints they seem'd, 
 
 Upon the eve of doomsday taken 
 From their dim graves, in odour sleeping ; — 
 
 While that benevolent Peri beamed 
 Like their good angel, cahnly keeping 
 
 Watch o'er them, till their souls would waken ! 
 
 But mom is blushing iu the sky ; 
 
 Again the Peri soars above. 
 Bearing to heav'n that precious sigh 
 
 Of pure, self-sacrificiag love. 
 High throbb'd her heart, with hope elate. 
 
 The Blysian palm she soon shall win. 
 For the bright Spirit at the gate 
 
 Siml'd as she gave that offering in ; 
 And she already hears the trees 
 
 Of Eden, with their crystal bells 
 Ringing in that ambrosial breeze 
 
 That from the throne of Alia swells ; 
 
 * ** In the East, tliey suppose the phcenix to have fifty orificeB in his bill, which are 
 continued to his taU ; and that, after living one thousand years, he builds himself a 
 funeral pile, sings a melodious air of different haxmonies through his fifty orgau-pipes, 
 flaps his wings with a velocity which sets fire to the wood, and consumes himself." — 
 ItichcurdBOn. 
 
 119 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 And she can see the starry bowls 
 That lie around that lucid lake^ 
 
 Upon whose banks admitted souls 
 
 Their first sweet draught of glory take ! * 
 
 But ah ! ev'n Peris' hopes are vain — 
 
 Again the Fates forbade, again 
 
 Th' immortal barrier clos'd — " Not yet," 
 
 The Angel said, as, with regret, 
 
 He shut from her that glimpse of glory — 
 
 " True was the maiden, and her story. 
 
 Written in light o'er Alla's head. 
 
 By seraph eyes shall long be read. 
 
 But, Peri, see — the crystal bar 
 
 Of Eden moves not — holier far 
 
 Than ev'n this sigh the boon must be 
 
 That opes the Gates of Heaven for thee." 
 
 Now, upon Syria's land of roses f 
 Hoftly the light of eve reposes, 
 And, Uke a glory, the broad sun 
 Hangs over sainted Lebanon,' 
 Whose head in wintry grandeur towers. 
 
 And whitens with eternal sleet. 
 While summer, in a vale of flowers. 
 
 Is sleeping rosy at his feet. 
 
 * " On the shores of a quadrangular lake stand a thousand goblets, made of stars, 
 out of which souls predestined to enjoy felicity drmk the ciystal wave." — From Chateau- 
 briand's Description of the Mahometan Paradise, in his Beauties of Christianiitf . 
 
 t Richai-dson thinks that Syria had its name from Suri, a beautiful and delicate 
 species of rose, for which that country has been always famous ; — hence, Suristaai, the 
 Land of Roses. 
 
 120 
 
I'AKAJJISK AND TH K PEKI. 
 
 To one, wlio look'd from upper air 
 
 O'er all tli' enchanted regions thei-c, 
 
 How beauteous must have been the glow, 
 
 The life, the sparkling from below ! 
 
 Fair gardens, shining streams, with ranks 
 
 Of golden melons on their banks. 
 
 More golden where the sun-light falls ; — 
 
 Gray lizards glittering on the walls * 
 
 Of ruin'd shrines, busy and bright. 
 
 As they were all alive with light ; — 
 
 And, yet more splendid, numerous flocks 
 
 Of pigeons, settling on the rocks, 
 
 With their rich, restless wings, that gleiuii 
 
 Variously in the crimson beam 
 
 Of the warm west, — as if inlaid 
 
 With brilliants from the mine, or made 
 
 Of tearless rainbows, such as span 
 
 Th' unclouded skies of Peristan ! 
 
 And then, the mingling sounds that come, 
 
 Of shepherds' ancient reed, f with hum 
 
 Of the wild bees of Palestine, 
 
 Banqueting through the flowery vales ; — 
 And, Jordan, those sweet banks of thine, 
 
 And woods, so full of nightingales ! 
 
 But nought can charm the luckless Peri ; 
 Her soul is sad — her wings are weary — 
 
 * " Tlie number of lizards I saw one day in the great court of the Temple of the 
 Sun at Balbec, amounted to many thousands ; the ground, the walls, and stones of the 
 ruined buildings, were covered with them." — Bruce 
 
 t "The Syrinx, or Pan's pipe, is still a pastoral insti'umcnt in Syria." Rn^^:l. 
 
LALLA ROOKH. 
 
 Joyless she sees the sun look down 
 On that great Temple, once his own,* 
 Whose lonely columns stand sublime, 
 
 Flinging their shadows from on high, 
 Like dials, which the wizard. Time, 
 
 Had rais'd to count his ages by ! 
 
 Yet haply there may lie conceal'd 
 Beneath those chambers of the sun. 
 
 Some amulet of gems, annealed 
 
 In upper fires, some tablet seal'd 
 With the great name of Solomon, 
 Which, spell'd by her illumin'd eyes, 
 
 May teach her where, beneath the moon, 
 
 In earth or ocean lies the boon. 
 
 The charm, that can restore so soon 
 An erring Spirit to the skies ! 
 
 Cheer'd by this hope, she bends her thither ;- 
 Still laughs the radiant eye of heaven. 
 Nor have the golden bowers of even 
 
 In the rich west begun to wither ; — 
 
 When, o'er the vale of Balbec winging 
 Slowly, she sees a child at play. 
 
 Among the rosy wild-flowers singing. 
 As rosy and as wild as they ; 
 
 Chasing, with eager hands and eyes, 
 
 The beautiful blue damsel-flies, f 
 
 • The Temple of the Sun nt liulliec, 
 
 t " You behold there ii considerable number of a remarkable species of beautiful 
 jnscctH, the elepanco of whose appearance and their attu-e procured for them the name 
 of Damsels."- Smniin'. 
 
PARADISK AND THE PERI. 
 
 That fluttered round the jasmine stems, 
 Like winged flowers or flying gems : — 
 And, near the boy, who, tir'd with play, 
 Now nestUng 'mid the roses lay. 
 She saw a wearied man dismount 
 
 Prom his hot steed, and on the brink 
 Of a small imaret's rustic fount 
 
 Impatient fling him down to drink. 
 Then swift his haggard brow he turn'd 
 
 To the fair child, who fearless sat. 
 Though never yet hath day-beam burn'd 
 
 Upon a brow more fierce than that, — - 
 Sullenly fierce — a mixture dire, 
 Like thunder-clouds, of gloom and fire !— 
 In which the Peri's eye could read 
 Dark tales of many a ruthless deed ; 
 The ruin'd maid — -the shrine profan'd— 
 Oaths broken — -and the threshold stain'd 
 With blood of guests ! — theiv written, all, 
 Black as the damning drops that fall 
 From the denouncing Angel's pen. 
 Ere Mercy weeps them out again 1 
 
 Yet tranquil now that man of crime 
 (As if the balmy evening time 
 Soften'd his spirit) look'd and lay, 
 Watching the rosy infant's play; — 
 Though still, whene'er his eye by chance 
 Fell on the boy's, its lurid glance 
 Met that unclouded, joyous gaze, 
 
LA Til, A ROOKTT. 
 
 As torches, that have burnt all night 
 Through some impure and godless rite. 
 Encounter morning's glorious rays. 
 
 But hark I the vesper call to prayer, 
 
 As slow the orb of daylight sets, 
 Is rising sweetly on the air. 
 
 From Syria's thousand minarets ! 
 The boy has started from the bed 
 Of flowers, where he had laid his head. 
 And down upon the fragrant sod 
 
 Kneels, with his forehead to the south. 
 Lisping th' eternal name of God 
 
 From purity's own cherub mouth. 
 And looking, while his hands and eyes 
 Are lifted to the glowing skies, 
 Like a stray babe of Paradise, 
 •Just lighted on that flowery plain. 
 And seekins: for its home agrain ! 
 Oh ! 'twas a sight — that heav'n — that child — 
 A scene, which might have well beguil'd 
 Lv'n haughty Bblis of a sigh 
 For glories lost and peace gone by ! 
 
 And how felt Jif — the wretched man 
 Reclining there — while memory ran 
 O'er many a yeai' of guilt and strife. 
 Flew o'er the dark flood of his life. 
 Nor found one sunny resting-place. 
 Nor brought him back one branch of grace ! 
 " There iruft a time," he said, in mild. 
 Heart-humbled tones — " thou blessed child ! 
 
PARADISE AND THE I'KK'l. 
 
 Wlieiij youDg and haply pure as thou^ 
 
 I look'd and pray'd like thee — -but now — " 
 
 He hung his head — each nobler aim 
 
 And hope and feeling, which had slept 
 From boyhood's hour, that instant came 
 
 Fresh o'er him, and he wept — he wept ! 
 
LALLA KOOKH. 
 
 Blest tears of soul-felt penitence ! 
 
 In whose benign, redeeming flow 
 Is felt the first, the only sense 
 
 Of guiltless joy that guilt can know. 
 " There's a drop," said the Peri, "that down from the 
 
 moon 
 Falls through the withering airs of June 
 Upon Egypt's land,* of so healing a power. 
 So balmy a virtue, that ev'n in the hour 
 That drop descends, contagion dies, 
 And health reanimates earth and skies ! — 
 Oh ! is it not thus, thou man of sin. 
 
 The precious tears of repentance fall ? 
 Though foul thy fiery plagues within. 
 
 One heavenly drop hath dispell'd them all ! " 
 And now — behold him kneeling there 
 By the child's side, in humble prayer. 
 While the same sunbeam shines upon 
 The guilty and the gniiltless one. 
 And hymns of joy proclaim through heaven 
 The triumph of a soul forgiven ! 
 
 'Twas when the golden orb had set, 
 WTiile on their knees they linger'd yet, 
 There fell a light, more lovely far 
 Than ever came from sun or star. 
 Upon the tear that, warm and meek, 
 Dew'd that repentant sinner's cheek : 
 To mortal eye this light might seem 
 A northern flash, nr meteor beam— - 
 
 * The Nucta, or Miraculous Drop, which falls in Egypt precisely on St. John's Day, 
 in June, and is supposed to have the effect of stopping the plague. 
 
 176 
 
rAK'ADISE AND THE I'KLil. 
 
 But well th' enraptur'd Peri knew 
 'Twas a bright smile the Angel threw 
 Prom heaven's gate^ to hail that tear, 
 Her harbinger of glory near ! 
 
 " Joy, joy for ever ! my task is done — 
 The Gates are pass'd, and Heaven is won ! 
 Oh ! am I not happy ? I am, I am — 
 
 To thee, sweet Eden ! how dark and sad 
 Are the diamond turrets of Shadukiam,* 
 
 And the fragrant bowers of Amberabad ! 
 
 " Farewell, ye odours of earth, that die, 
 Passing away hke a lover's sigh ; 
 My feast is now of the tooba tree,t 
 Whose scent is the breath of eternity ! " 
 
 " Farewell, ye vanishing flowers, that shone 
 In my fairy wreath, so bright and brief. 
 Oh ! what are the brightest that e'er have blown, 
 To the lote-tree, springing by Alla's Throne, J 
 
 Whose flowers have a soul in every leaf ! 
 Joy, joy for ever ! — my task is done — 
 The Gates are pass'd, and Heaven is won ! " 
 
 * The Country of DeligM, — tlie name of a province in the TtJTigdom of Jinnistan, or 
 Fairy Land, the capital of which is called the City of Jewels. Amberabad is another of 
 the cities of Jinnistan. 
 
 t The tree Tooba, that stands in Paradise, in the palace of Maliomet. — Vide Sale'n 
 Prelivi. Disc. " Touba," says D'Herbelot, " signifies beatitude, or eternal happiness." 
 
 X Mahomet is described, in the 53rd chapter of the Koran, as having seen the angel 
 Gabriel " by the lot«-fcree, beyond which there is no pasting ; near it is the Garden of 
 Eternal Abode." This tree, say the commentators, stands in the seventh heaven, on 
 the right hand of the Throne of God. 
 
 137 
 
-\LLA 1{(_)UKII. 
 
 '■ And tliis," said tlie Great Chamberlain, " is poetry ! this 
 flimsy manufacture of the brain, which, in comparison with the 
 lofty and durable monuments of genius, is as the gold filigree- 
 work of Zamara beside the eternal architecture of Egypt ! " 
 After this gorgeous sentence, which, with a few more of the 
 same kind, Fadladeen kept by him for rare and important 
 occasions, he proceeded to the anatomy of the short poem just 
 recited. The lax and easy kind of metre in which it was 
 written ought to be denounced, he said, as one of the leading 
 causes of the alarming growth of poetry in our times. If some 
 check were not g-iven to this lawless facUity, we should soon be 
 overrun by a I'ace of bards as numerous and as shallow as the 
 hundred and twenty thousand streams of Basra. * They who 
 succeeded in this style deserved eliastisement for their very 
 success ; — as wari'i(.)i's have been punished, even after gaining 
 a victory, because they had taken the liberty of gaining it in 
 an irregular or unestablished manner. What, then, was to be 
 said to those who failed r — to those who presumed, as in the 
 present lamentable instance, to imitate the license and ease of 
 the bolder' sons of song, without any of that grace or vigoui' 
 
 * " Lt iy aaid that the rivers or streams of Basra were reckoned m the time of 
 IJulal )>eii Alii liordeh, and amounted to the number of one hundi'cd (Uid twenty thousand 
 streams.' -Jiltii Jl,fiil,;f/. 
 
 l'?S 
 
LALLA KOOKH. 
 
 whicli gave a dignity even to negligence ; — who, like them, 
 flung the jereed * carelessly, but not, like them, to the mark ; — 
 " and who," said he, raising his voice, to excite a proper degree 
 of wakefulness in his hearers, " contrive to appear heavy and 
 constrained in the midst of all the latitude they have allowed 
 themselves, like one of those young pagans that dance before 
 the Princess, who has the ingenuity to move as if her limbs 
 were fettered, in a pair of the lightest and loosest drawers of 
 Masulipatam ! " 
 
 It was but little suitable, he continued, to the grave march 
 of criticism to follow this fantastical Peri, of whom they had 
 just heard, through all her flights and adventures between 
 earth and heaven ; but he could not help adverting to the 
 puerile conceitedness of the Three Gifts which she is supposed 
 to carry to the skies, — a drop of blood, forsooth, a sigh, and 
 a tear ! How the first of these articles was dehvered into the 
 Angel's " radiant hand," he professed himself at a loss to 
 discover ; and as to the safe carriage of the sigh and the tear, 
 such Peris and such poets were beings by far too incompre- 
 hensible for him even to guess how they managed such 
 matters. " But, in short," said he, " it is a waste of time and 
 patience to dwell longer upon a thing so incurably frivolous, — 
 puny even among its own puny race, and such as only the 
 Banyan Hospital for Sick Insects t should undertake." 
 
 In vain did Lalla Rookh try to soften this inexorable 
 critic ; in vain did she resort to her most eloquent common- 
 places, — reminding him that poets were a timid and sensitive 
 
 * The name of the javelin with, which the Easterns exercise. — Vuip Castellan, Maeurs 
 des OthomanSy torn. iii. p. 161. 
 
 t For a description of this Hospital of the Banyans, vide Paraona's Traveh, p. 262. 
 
 129 
 
LALLA ROOKH. 
 
 race, whose sweetness was not to be drawn forth, like that of 
 the fragrant grass near the Ganges, by crushing and trampling 
 upon them ; — that severity often destroyed every chance of the 
 perfection which it demanded ; and that, after all, perfection 
 was like the Mountain of the Talisman, — no one had ever yet 
 reached its summit. * Neither these gentle axioms, nor the 
 still gentler looks vidth which they were inculcated, could 
 lower for one instant the elevation of Fadladeen's eyebrows, 
 or charm him into anythiug like encouragement, or even tole- 
 ration, of her poet. Toleration, indeed, was not among the 
 weaknesses of Fadladeen ; — he carried the same spirit into 
 matters of poetry and of religion, and, though little versed in 
 the beauties or sublimities of either, was a perfect master of 
 the art of persecution in botli. His zeal, too, was the same in 
 either pursuit ; whether the game before him was pagans or 
 poetasters, — worshippers of cows, or \\Titers of epics. 
 
 They had now arrived at the splendid city of Lahore, whose 
 mausoleums and shrines, magnificent and numberless, where 
 Death seemed to share equal honours with Heaven, would have 
 powerfully aiiected the heart and imagination of Lalla Rookh, 
 if feelings more of this earth had not taken entire ])ossession 
 of her already. She was here met by messengers, dispatched 
 from Cashmere, who informed her that the King had arrived 
 in the Valley, and was himself superintending the sumptuous 
 preparations that wore making in the saloons of the Shalimar 
 for 1ier reception. The chill she felt on receiving this intel- 
 ligence, — whicli 1o a bride whose heart was free and lisrht 
 
 * " Ncjir this is a curious hill, called Ko Talism, tlie Mountain of the Talisman, 
 becaiise, according to the traditions of the country, no person ever succeeded in {gaining 
 its summit." — Kutueir. 
 
 130 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 would have brought only images of affection and pleasui'e, — 
 convinced her that her peace was gone for ever, and that 
 she was in love, irretrievably in love, with young Feeamoez. 
 The veil, which this passion wears at first, had fallen ofi", and 
 to know that she loved was now as painful as to love without 
 knowing it had been delicious. Feeamoez, too, — ^what misery 
 would be his, if the sweet hours of intercourse so imprudently 
 allowed them should have stolen into his heart the same fatal 
 fascination as into hers ; — if, notwithstanding her rank, and the 
 modest homage he always paid to it, even he should have 
 yielded to the influence of those long and happy interviews, 
 where music, poetry, the delightful scenes of nature, — all tended 
 to bring their hearts close together, and to waken by every 
 means that too ready passion, which often, like the young oi 
 the desert-bird, is warmed into life by the eyes alone ! * She 
 saw but one way to preserve herself from being culpable as 
 well as unhappy, and this, however painful, she was resolved to 
 adopt. Feeamoez must no more be admitted to her presence. 
 To have strayed so far into the dangerous labyrinth was 
 wrong, but to linger in it, while the clew was yet in her 
 hand, would be criminal. Though the heart she had to offer 
 to the King of Bucharia might be cold and broken, it should 
 at least be pure ; and she must only try to forget the 
 short vision of happiness she had enjoyed, — Kke that Arabian 
 shepherd, who, in wandering into the wilderness, caught a 
 glimpse of the Gardens of Irim, and then lost them again 
 for ever ! t 
 
 * The Arabians believe that the ostriches hatch their young by only looking at them. 
 -P. Vaiiglehe, JRelat, d^JSgt/pte. 
 
 t Vide Salens Koran, note, vol. ii. p. 4J3k 
 
 Ibj 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 The arrival of the young bride at Lahore was celebrated in 
 the most enthusiastic manner. The rajas and omras in her 
 train, who had kept at a certain distance during the journey, 
 and never encamped nearer to the Princess than was strictly 
 necessary for her safeguard, here rode in splendid cavalcade 
 through the city, and distributed the most costly presents to 
 the crowd. Engines were erected in all the squares, which cast 
 forth showers of confectionery among the people ; while the 
 artizans, in chariots adorned with tinsel and flying stream.ers, 
 exhibited the badges of their respective trades through the 
 streets. Such brilliant displays of life and pageantry among 
 the palaces, and domes, and gilded minarets of Lahore, made 
 the city altogether like a place of enchantment ; — particularly 
 on the day when Lalla Rookh set out again upon her journey, 
 when she was accompanied to the gate by all the fairest and 
 richest of the nobility, and rode along between ranks of beautiful 
 boys and girls, who waved plates of gold and silver flowers over 
 their heads * as they went, and then threw them to be gathered 
 by the populace. 
 
 For many days after their departure from Lahore, a con- 
 siderable degree of gloom hung over the whole party. Lalla 
 Rookh, who had intended to make illness her excuse for not 
 adm.itting the young minstrel, as usual, to the pavilion, soon 
 found that to feign indisposition was unnecessary ; — Fadladeen 
 felt the loss of the good road they had hitherto travelled, and 
 was very near cursing Jehan-Guire (of blessed memory !) for 
 not having continued his delectable alley of trees, t at least as 
 
 • Ferishta. 
 
 t The fine road made by the Emperor Jehan-Guire from Agra to Lahore, planted 
 u'ith trees on each side. 
 
LAtLA KOOKH. 
 
 far as the mountains of Caskmere ; — while the ladies, who had 
 nothing now to do all day but to be fanned by peacocks' 
 feathers and listen to rADLADEBN, seemed heartily weary of the 
 life they led, and, in spite of all the Great Chamberlain's 
 criticisms, were tasteless enough to wish for the poet again. 
 One evening, as they were proceeding to their place of rest 
 for the night, the Princess, who, for the freer enjoyment of 
 the air, had mounted her favourite Arabian palfrey, in passing 
 by a small grove, heard the notes of a lute from within its 
 leaves, and a voice, which she but too well knew, singing the 
 following words : — 
 
 " Tell me not of joys above, 
 
 If that world can give no bliss, 
 Truer, happier than the love 
 
 Which enslaves our souls in this 1 
 
 " Tell me not of Houris' eyes ; — 
 
 Par from me their dangerous glow, 
 If those looks that light the skies 
 Wound like some that burn below ! 
 
 " Who that feels what love is here. 
 All its falsehood — all its pain — 
 Would, for ev'n Elysium's sphere. 
 Risk the fatal dream again ? 
 
 " Who, that midst a desert's heat 
 Sees the waters fade away, 
 Would not rather die than meet 
 Streams again as false as they 'f " 
 
 13;i 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 The tone of melancholy defiance in which these words were 
 uttered went to Lalla Rookh's heart ; — and, as she reluctantly 
 rode on, she could not help feeling it as a sad but sweet 
 certainty, that Feeamoez was to the full as enamoured and 
 miserable as herself. 
 
 The place where they encamped that evening was the first 
 delightful spot they had come to since they left Lahore. On 
 one side of them was a grove full of small Hindoo temples, 
 and planted with the most graceful trees of the Bast ; where 
 the tamarind, the cassia, and the silken plantains of Ceylon 
 were mingled in rich contrast with the high fan-like foliage of 
 the Palmyra, — that favourite tree of the luxurious bird that 
 lights up the chambers of its nest with fire-flies. * In the 
 middle of the lawn where the pavilion stood there was a tank 
 surrounded by small mangoe-trees, on the clear cold waters 
 of which floated multitudes of the beautiful red lotus ; while 
 at a distance stood the ruins of a strange and awful-looking 
 tower, which seemed old enough to have been the temple of 
 some religion no longer known, and which spoke the voice of 
 desolation in the midst of all that bloom and loveliness. This 
 singular ruin excited the wonder and conjectures of all. Lalla 
 RoOKH guessed in vain ; and the all-pretending Fadladben, who 
 had never till this journey been beyond the precincts of Delhi, 
 was proceeding most learnedly to show that he Icnew nothing 
 whatever about the matter, when one of the ladies suggested, 
 that perhaps Feeamoez could satisfy their curiosity : they were 
 now approaching his native mountains, and this tower might 
 be a relic of some of those dark superstitions which had pre- 
 vailed in that conntiy before the light of Islani dawned upon 
 
 * The Baya, nr Jiitlian Gross-ljeak.— .SVr IV. Joiiex. 
 
it. The Chamberlam, who usually preferred his own ignorance 
 to the best knowledge that any one else could give him, was 
 by no means pleased with this officious reference ; and the 
 Princess, too, was about to oppose a faint word of objection, — 
 but, before either of them could speak, a slave was dispatched for 
 Peeamoez, who, in a very few minutes, appeared before them, — 
 looking so pale and uiihappy in Lalla Rookh's eyes, that she 
 already repented of her cruelty in having so long excluded him. 
 
LALLA KOOKH. 
 
 That venerable tower, he told them, was the remains of an 
 ancient Fire-Temple, built by those Ghebers or Persians of the 
 old religion, who, many hundred years since, had fled hither 
 from their Arab conquerors, preferring liberty and their altars 
 in a foreign land to the alternative of apostacy or persecution 
 in their own. It was impossible, he added, not to feel inte- 
 rested in the many glorious but unsuccessfal struggles which 
 had been made by these original natives of Persia to cast off 
 the yoke of their bigoted conquerors. Like their own fire in 
 the Burning Field at Bakou,* when suppressed in one place, 
 they had but broken out with fresh flame in another ; and, as 
 a native of Cashmere, of that fair and holy Valley, which had 
 in the same manner become the prey of strangers, and seen 
 her ancient shrines and native princes swept away before the 
 march of her intolerant invaders, he felt a sympathy, he owned, 
 with the sufferings of the per.secuted Ghebers, which everj- 
 monument like this before them but tended more powerfallj' to 
 n waken. 
 
 It was the first time that Fer.\morz had ever ventured upon 
 so much |)m.«(' before Fadladeen ; and it may easily be con- 
 ceived what cft'ect such prose as this must have produced upon 
 that most orthodox and most pagan-hating personage. He sat 
 for some minutes aghast, ejaculating only at inten'als, " Bigoted 
 conquerors! — sympathy with Fire-worshippers!" — while Fer.\- 
 MORZ, happy to take advantage of this almost speechless horror 
 of the Chamberlain, proceeded to say that he knew a melancholy 
 slory, connected with the events of one of those brave struggles 
 of the Fire-worshippei-s of Persia against their Arab masters, 
 which, if the evening was not too far advanced, he should 
 
 * The "AL;er ardan?;," described by Kem;)ler, Aiiutnit,d. K-io/. 
 136 
 
LATiT.A BOOKII, 
 
 have much pleasure in being allowed to relate to the Princess. 
 It was impossible for Lalla Rookh to refuse ; — he had never 
 before looked half so animated, and when he spoke of the 
 Holy Valley, his eyes had sparkled, she thought, like the talis- 
 manic characters on the scimitar of Solomon. Her consent 
 was therefore most readily granted ; and while Fadladeen sat 
 in unspeakable dismay, expecting treason and abomination in 
 every line, the poet thus began his story : — 
 
THE nilE-WORSHIPPERS. 
 
 "I'lS moonlight over Oman's Sea;* 
 Her banks of pearl and palmy isles 
 
 Bask in the night-beam beauteously^ 
 And her blue waters sleep in smiles. 
 
 The rcrsinii iluH', eometiines bo caUed, which separates the shores of Persia and 
 
 133 
 
, THE Fira-WORSHIPPEKS. 
 
 ^Tis moonliglit in Harmozia's* walls, 
 And ttrough her Emir's porphyry halk, 
 Where, some houi-s since, was heard the swell 
 Of trumpet and the clash of zel, f 
 Bidding the bright-eyed sun farewell; — • 
 The peaceful sun, whom better suits 
 
 The music of the bulbul's nest. 
 Or the light touch of lovers' lutes. 
 
 To sing him to his golden rest ! 
 All hush'd — there's not a breeze in motion ; 
 The shore is silent as the Qcean. 
 If zephyrs come, so light they come, 
 
 Nor leaf is stirr'd nor wave is driven ; — 
 The wind-tower on the Emir's domef 
 
 Can hardly win a breath from heaven. 
 
 Ev'n he, that tyrant Arab, sleeps 
 
 Calm, while a nation round him weeps ; 
 
 While curses load the air he breathes. 
 
 And falchions from unnumber'd sheaths 
 
 Are starting to avenge the shame 
 
 His race hath brought on Iran's § name. 
 
 Hard, heartless Chief, unmov'd aUke, 
 
 'Mid eyes that weep and swords that strike ; — 
 
 One of that saintly, murderous brood. 
 
 To carnage and the Koran given. 
 Who think through unbelievers' blood 
 
 Lies their directest path to heaven ; 
 
 * The present Gombaroon, a town on the Persian side of the Guif. 
 t A Moorish instrument of music. 
 
 t " At Gombaroon and other places in Persia, they have towers for the purpose of 
 catching the wind, and cooling the houses." - Le Brai/ii. 
 
 § "Iran is the true general name for the empu*e of Pevsia."—.Lsial. Res., Dlsv. h. 
 
 139 
 
r,ALLA ROOKH. 
 
 One, who will pause and kneel unshod 
 In the warm blood his hand hath pour'd. 
 
 To mutter o'er some text of God 
 
 Engraven on his reeking sword ; * — 
 
 Nay, who can coolly note the line, 
 
 The letter of those words divine. 
 
 To which his blade, with searching art, 
 
 Had simk into its victim's heart ! 
 
 Just Alia ! what must be thy look. 
 
 When such a wretch before thee stands 
 Unblushing, with thy Sacred Book, — 
 
 Turning the leaves with blood-stain'd hands. 
 And wresting from its page sublime 
 His creed of lust and hate and crime ? 
 Ev'n as those bees of Trebizond, 
 
 Which from the sunniest flowers that glad 
 With their pure smile the gardens round. 
 
 Draw venom forth that drives men mad ! f 
 
 Never did fierce Arabia send 
 
 A satrap forth more direly great ; 
 Never was Iran doom'd to bend 
 
 Beneath a yoke of deadlier weight. 
 Her throne had fall'n — -her pride was crush' d — 
 Her sons were mlling slaves, nor blush' d, 
 In their own land — no more their own — 
 To crouch beneath a stranger's throne. 
 
 * "On the blades of their scimitars some verse from the Koran is usually inscribed." — 
 
 t " There is a kind of Rhododendros about Trebizond, whose flowers the bee feeds 
 upon, and the honey thence drives people rxmd.^'- -Tnitri/fforf. 
 
 14fi 
 
THE FIRE-WOKSHIl'PERS. 
 
 Her towers, where Mithra once had burn'd, 
 
 To Moslem shrines — oh shame ! — were turn'd, 
 
 Where slaves, converted by the sword, 
 
 Their mean, apostate worship pour'd. 
 
 And curs'd the faith their sires ador'd. 
 
 Yet has she hearts, 'mid all this ill. 
 
 O'er all this wreck, high buoyant still 
 
 With hope and vengeance ; — ^hearts that yet, — 
 
 Like gems, in darkness issuing rays 
 They've treasur'd from the sun that's set, — 
 
 Beam all the Ught of long-lost days ! 
 And swords she hath, nor weak nor slow 
 
 To second all such hearts can dare ; 
 As he shall know, well, dearly know. 
 
 Who sleeps in moonlight luxury there, 
 Tranquil, as if his spirit lay 
 Becalm'd in Heaven's approving ray ! 
 Sleep on^for purer eyes than thine 
 Those waves are hush'd, those planets shine. 
 Sleep on, and be thy rest unmov'd 
 
 By the white moonbeam's dazzling power ;- — 
 None but the loving and the lov'd 
 
 Should be awake at this sweet hour. 
 
 And see — where, high above those rocks 
 That o'er the deep their shadows fling. 
 
 Yon turret stands ; — where ebon locks. 
 As glossy as a heron's wing 
 Upon the turban of a king,* 
 
 * "Their kings wear plumes of blaclt herons' feathers upon the right side, a« a 
 badge of sovereignty.'"— //a»wffy. 
 
 141 
 
LALLA ROOKH. 
 
 Hang from the lattice, long and wild ; — 
 ■"Tis she, that Emir's blooming child. 
 All truth and tenderness and grace. 
 Though born of such ungentle race ; — 
 An image of Youth's radiant Fountain, 
 Springing in a desolate mountain ! * 
 
 Oh ! what a pure and sacred thing 
 
 Is Beauty, curtain' d from the sight 
 Of the gross world, illumining 
 
 One only mansion with her light ! 
 Unseen by man's disturbing eye, — 
 
 The flower, that blooms beneath the sea 
 Too deep for sunbeams, doth not he 
 
 Hid in more chaste obscurity ! 
 So, HiNDA, have thy face and mind. 
 Like holy mysteries, lain enshrin'd ; 
 And oh ! what transport for a lover, 
 
 To lift the veil that shades them o'er ! — 
 Like those who, all at once, discover 
 
 In the lone deep some fairy shore, 
 
 Where mortal never trod before. 
 And sleep and wake in scented airs 
 No lip had ever breath' d but theirs ! 
 
 Beautiful are the maids that glide. 
 
 On summer eves, through Yemen's * dales. 
 
 And bright the glancing looks they hide 
 Beliind their litters' roseate veils ; — 
 
 ' " The Fountain of Youth, by a Mahometan tratlition, ia aituated in aumu t-ltu■l^ 
 iTKiDii uf Ihi: Eiisi; -lliclKinhiui. 
 t Arabia I'Vlix. 
 
 143 
 
THE IflEE-WOESFTPPEKS. 
 
 And brides, as delicate and fair 
 
 As the white jasmine flowers they wear. 
 
 Hath Yemen in her blissful cHme, 
 
 Who, lull'd in cool kiosk or bower. 
 Before their mirrors count the time. 
 
 And grow still loveher every hour. 
 But never yet hath bride or maid 
 
 In Araby's gay harams smiled, 
 Whose boasted brightness would not fade 
 
 Before Al Hassan's blooming child. 
 
 Light as the angel shapes that bless 
 An infant's dream, yet not the less 
 Eich in all woman's loveliness ; — 
 With eyes so pure, that from their ray 
 Dark vice would turn abash'd away. 
 Blinded hke serpents, when they gaze 
 Upon the emerald's virgin blaze ! * 
 Yet, fill'd with all youth's sweet desires, 
 MingUng the meek and vestal fires 
 Of other worlds with all the bliss. 
 The fond, weak tenderness of this ! 
 A soul, too, more than half divine, 
 
 Where, through some shades of earthly feeling, 
 Rehgion's soften'd glories shine. 
 
 Like light through summer fohage stealing. 
 Shedding a glow of such mild hue, 
 So warm, and yet so shadowy too. 
 
 * " They say tliat if a snake or serpent fix his eyes on the lustre of those stones 
 (emeralds), he immediately becomes blind." — Ahmed hen Ahihdaziz, Treatise on Jeweh. 
 
 14.3 
 
LALI.A EOOKH. 
 
 As makes the very darkness there 
 More beautiful than light elsewhere ! 
 
 Such is the maid who, at this hour. 
 
 Hath risen from her restless sleep, 
 And sits alone in that high bower. 
 
 Watching the still and shining deep. 
 Ah ! 'twas not thus — with tearful eyes 
 
 And beating heart — she used to gaze 
 On the magnificent earth and skies, 
 
 In her own land, in happier days. 
 Why looks she now so anxious down 
 Among those rocks, whose rugged frown 
 
 Blackens the mirror of the deep ? — 
 Whom waits she all this lonely night ? 
 
 Too rough the rocks, too bold the steep. 
 For man to scale that turret's height ! — 
 
 So deem'd, at least, her thoughtful sire, 
 
 Wh.en high, to catch the cool night-air, 
 After the day-beam's withering fire,* 
 
 He built her bower of freshness there, 
 And had it deck'd with costhest skill. 
 
 And fondly thought it safe as fair : — 
 Think, reverend dreamer ! think so still. 
 
 Nor wake to learn what Love can dare — 
 Love, all-defying Love, who sees 
 No charm in trophies won with ease ; — 
 
 * " At Gombai'oon and Lhe Isle of Ormus it is sometimes so hot, that the people 
 iire obliged to lie all day m the wntor."— Jl'irrn J'rJn. 
 
THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 
 
 Whose rarest, dearest fruits of bliss 
 Are pluck'd on danger's precipice ! 
 Bolder than they, who dare not dive 
 
 For pearls, but when the sea 'a at rest. 
 Love, in the tempest most alive, 
 
 Hath ever held that pearl the best 
 He finds beneath the stormiest water ! 
 
 Yes, Araby's unrivaU'd daughter, — 
 Though high that tower, that rock-way rude, 
 
 There 's one who, but to kiss thy cheek, 
 Would chmb th' untrodden solitude 
 
 Of Ararat's tremendous peak,* 
 And think its steeps, though dark and dread. 
 Heaven's pathways, if to thee they led ! 
 Ev'n now thou seest the flashing spray. 
 That hghts his oar's impatient way ; — 
 Ev'n now thou hear'st the sudden shock 
 Of his swift bark against the rock. 
 And stretohest down thy arms of snow. 
 As if to lift him from below ! 
 Like her to whom, at dead of night. 
 The bridegroom, with his locks of light, t 
 Came, in the flush of love and pride. 
 And scal'd the terrace of his bride ; — 
 When, as she saw him rashly spring, 
 And, mid-way up, in danger cling. 
 She flung him down her long black hair. 
 Exclaiming breathless, " There, love, there ! " 
 
 • This mountaia is generally supposed to be inaficessible. 
 
 t In one of the books of the Shfih Nameh, when Zal {a celebrated hero of Persia, 
 remarkable for his white hair) comes to the terrace of his mistress Rodahver at night, 
 she lets down her long tresses to assist him in his ascent; — he, however, manages it in 
 a less romantic way, by fixing his crook in a projecting beam. — Vide Champion' b Ferdosi, 
 
 T 145 
 
And scarce did raanliei nerve uphold 
 The hero Zal in that fond hour, 
 
 Than wings the youth whOj fleet and bold. 
 Now climbs the rocks to Hinda's bower. 
 
 See — light, as up their native steeps 
 The rock-goats of Arabia clamber, 
 
 Fearless from crag to crag he leaps, 
 
 And now is in the maiden's chamber. 
 
THE I'MRE-WOESIlirPEKS. 
 
 She loves — but knows not whom she loves, 
 
 Nor what his race^ nor whence he came ; — 
 Like one who meetSj in Indian groves^ 
 
 Some beauteous bird^ without a name. 
 Brought by the last ambrosial breeze, 
 Prom isles in th' undiscover'd seas, 
 To show his plumage for a day 
 To wondering eyes, and wing away ! 
 Will he thus fly — her nameless lover ? 
 
 Alia forbid ! — 'twas by a moon 
 As fair as this, while singing over 
 
 Some ditty to her soft Kanoon,* 
 Alone, at this same witching hour. 
 
 She first beheld his radiant eyes 
 Gleam through the lattice of the bower. 
 
 Where nightly now they mix their sighs ; 
 And thought some spirit of the air 
 (For what could waft a mortal there ?) 
 Was pausing on his moonlight way. 
 To listen to her lonely lay ! 
 This fancy ne'er hath left her mind : 
 
 And though, when terror's swoon had past , 
 She saw a youth, of mortal kind. 
 
 Before her in obeisance cast, — 
 Yet often since, when he hath spoken 
 Strange, awful words, — and gleams have broken 
 Prom his dark eyes, too bright to bear. 
 
 Oh ! she hath fear'd her soul was given 
 
 * "Camm, espece de psalterion, avec des cordes de boyaux; les dames en touclieiit 
 dans le serrail, avec des d^caiUes armies de pointes de coco."— Toderini, traitdateJ bi/ 
 De Cournand, 
 
 147 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 To some unhallowed child of air, 
 
 Some erring spirit, cast from heaven, 
 
 Like those angelic youths of old. 
 
 Who burn'd for maids of mortal mould, 
 
 Bewilder'd left the glorious skies. 
 
 And lost their heaven for woman'' s eyes ! 
 
 Fond girl ! nor fiend nor angel he, 
 
 Who woos thy young simphcity ; 
 
 But one of earth's impassioned sons, 
 As warm in love, as fierce in ire. 
 
 As the best heart whose current runs 
 Full of the Day-god's living fire ! 
 
 But quench'd to-night that ardour seems. 
 
 And pale liis cheek, and sunk his brow ; — 
 Never before, but in her dreams. 
 
 Had she beheld him pale as now : 
 And those were dreams of troubled sleep. 
 From which 'twas joy to wake and weep ; 
 Visions that will not be forgot. 
 
 But sadden evei-y waking scene'. 
 Like warning ghosts, that leave the spot 
 
 All wither' d where they once have been ! 
 
 " How sweetly," said the trembUng maid, 
 Of her own gentle voice afraid, 
 So long had they in silence stood. 
 Looking upon that tranquil flood — 
 " How sweetly does the moonbeam smile 
 To-night upon yon leafy isle ! 
 Oft, in my fancy's wanderings, 
 I 've wish'd that little isle had wngs, 
 
THE FIEE-WOESHIPPUKS. 
 
 And we, within its fairy bowers, 
 
 Were wafted off to seas unknown, 
 Where not a pulse should beat but ours. 
 
 And we might Uve, love, die alone ! 
 Far from the cruel and the cold, — 
 
 Where the bright eyes of angels only 
 Should come around us, to behold 
 A paradise so pure and lonely ! 
 Would this be world enough for thee?" — 
 Playful she tum'd, that he might see 
 
 The passing smile her cheek put on ; 
 But when she marked how mournfully 
 
 His eyes met hers, that smile was gone ; 
 Ajad, bursting iuto heartfelt tears, 
 " Yes, yes," she cried, " my hourly fears. 
 My dreams have boded all too right — 
 We part — for ever part — to-night ! 
 I knew, I knew it could not last — 
 'Twas sweet, 'twas heavenly, but 'tis past ! 
 Oh ! ever thus, from childhood's hour, 
 
 I 've seen my fondest hopes decay ; 
 I never lov'd a tree or flower. 
 
 But 'twas the first to fade away. 
 I never nurs'd a dear gazelle. 
 
 To glad me with its soft black eye, 
 But, when it came to know me well 
 
 And love me, it was sure to die ! 
 Now too — the joy most like divine 
 
 Of all I ever dreamt or knew. 
 To see thee, hear thee, call thee mine, — 
 
 misery ! must I lose that too ? 
 
 149 
 
LALLA liOOKII. 
 
 Yet go — on peril's brink we meet; — 
 
 Those frigMful rocks — that treacherous sea — 
 Noj never come again — though sweet, 
 
 Though heaven, it may be death to thee. 
 Farewell — and blessings on thy way, 
 
 Where'er thou go'st, beloved stranger ! 
 Better to sit and watch that ray. 
 And think thee safe, though far away. 
 
 Than have thee near me, and in danger !" 
 
 " Danger ! — oh, tempt me not to boast ! " 
 The youth exclaim' d — " thou httle know'st 
 What he can brave, who, born and nurst 
 In Danger's paths, has dar'd her worst ! 
 Upon whose ear the signal-word 
 
 Of strife and death is hourly breaking ; 
 Who sleeps with head upon the sword 
 
 His fevei''d hand must grasp in waking ! 
 Danger ! " 
 
 " Say on — thou fear'st not, theu. 
 And we may often meet again ?" 
 
 " Oh ! look not so, — beneath the skies 
 I now fear nothing but those eyes. 
 If aught on earth could charm or force 
 My spirit from its destin'd course, — 
 If aught could make this soul forget 
 The bond to which its seal is set, 
 'Twould be those eyes ; — they, only they. 
 Could melt that sacred seal away ! 
 But no — 'tis fix'd — ini/ awful doom 
 Is fix'd — on this side of the tomb 
 
THK FIEK-WOESHIPVERS. 
 
 We meet no more ! — why, why did Heaven 
 Mingle two souls that earth has riven, 
 Has rent asunder wide as ours ? 
 Oh, Arab maid ! as soon the powers 
 Of light and darkness may combine, 
 As I be link'd with thee or thine ! 
 Thy father " 
 
 " Holy Alia save 
 
 His grey head from that hghtning glance ! 
 Thou know'st him not — he loves the brave ; 
 
 Nor Hves there under heaven's expanse 
 One who would prize, would worship thee, 
 
 And thy bold spirit, more than he. 
 Oft when, in childhood, I have play'd 
 
 With the bright falchion by his side, 
 I 've heard him swear his Hsping maid 
 
 In time should be a warrior's bride. 
 And still, whene'er, at haram hours, 
 I take him cool sherbets and flowers. 
 He tells me, when in playful mood, 
 
 A hero shall my bridegroom be. 
 Since maids are best in battle woo'd. 
 
 And won with shouts of victory ! 
 Nay, turn not from me — thou alone 
 Art form'd to make both hearts thy own. 
 Go — join his sacred ranks — thou know'st 
 
 Th' unholy strife these Persians wage : — 
 Good Heav'n, that frown ! — ev'n now thou glow^'st 
 
 With more than mortal warrior's rage. 
 Haste to the camp by morning's light. 
 And, when that sword is rais'd in fight. 
 
LALLA ROOKH. 
 
 Oh, still remember Love and I 
 Beneatli its stadow trembling lie ! 
 One victory o'er tliose Slaves of Fire, 
 Those impious Ghebers, whom my sire 
 Abhors " 
 
 " Hold, hold— thy words are death \" 
 The stranger cried, as wild he flung 
 His mantle back, and showed beneath 
 
 The Gheber belt that round him clung.* — 
 " Here, maiden, look — weep — blush to see 
 All that thy sire abhors in me ! 
 Yes — I am of that impious race. 
 
 Those Slaves of Fire who, morn and even. 
 Hail their Creator's dwelling-place 
 
 Among the living lights of heaven ! f 
 Yes — I am of that outcast few. 
 To Iran and to vengeance true, 
 Who curse the hour your Arabs came 
 To desolate our shrines of flame. 
 And swear, before God's burning eye. 
 To break our country's chains, or die ! 
 Thy bigot sire — nay, tremble not — • 
 
 He, who gave birth to those dear eyes. 
 With me is sacred as the spot 
 
 From which our fires of worship rise ! 
 
 * "They (the Ghebers) lay so much stress on their cushee, or girdle, as not to dai'e 
 to be an instant without it."--Grose's Voyage. " Le jeune homme uia d'abord la chose ; 
 mais, ayant t'te d^pouill^ de sa robe, et la large ceinture qu'il portoit comme G-hebr," 
 &c. kQ.~D'Rerhelof, art. Agduani. 
 
 t " They suppose the Throne of the Almighty is seated in the sun, and hence their 
 worship of that luminary."— J/rf/z/pi^//. 
 
 In3 
 
But know — 'twas him I sought that night, 
 When, from my watch-boat on the sea, 
 
 I caught this turret's ghmmering hght. 
 And up the rude rocks desperately 
 
LAT.LA ROOKl-r. 
 
 Rusli'd to my prey — thou know'st tlie rest — 
 
 I climb' d the gory vulture's nest. 
 
 And found a trembling dove within; — 
 
 Thine, thine the victory — thine the sin — 
 
 If Love hath made one thought his own. 
 
 That vengeance claims first — last — alone ! 
 
 Oh ! had we never, never met. 
 
 Or could this heart cv'n now forget 
 
 How link'd, how bless'd, we might have been, 
 
 Had Fate not frown'd so dark between ! 
 
 Hadst thou been born a Persian maid. 
 
 In neighbouring valleys had we dwelt. 
 Through the same fields in childhood play'd, 
 
 At the same kindling altar knelt, — 
 Then, then, while all those nauieless ties 
 In which the charm of country lies, 
 Had round our hearts been hourly spun. 
 Till Iran's cause and thine were one ; — 
 AVhile in thy lute's awakening sigh 
 I heard the voice of days gone by. 
 And saw in every smile of thine 
 Keturniiig hom'S of gl(U'y shine ! — 
 While the wrong'd J-^pirit of our Land 
 
 Liv'd, locik'd, and spoke her-wTongs through thee,- 
 (iod ! who could then this sword witlistnnd? 
 
 Its very flash were victory ! 
 But now — estrang'cl, divorc'd for ever. 
 Far as the gras]) "f Fate can sever: 
 Our onlv ties what lovi- has wove, — 
 
 Faith, friends, and country, sunder'd wide; — 
 And then, then only, true to love, 
 
 Wlien false to all that's dear beside ! 
 
 154 
 
THE FIKE-WOESHIPPEES. 
 
 Thy father Iran's deadliest foe — 
 Thyself, perhaps, ev'n now — but no — 
 Hate never look'd so lovely yet ! 
 
 No — sacred to thy soul will be 
 The land of him who could forget 
 
 All but that bleeding land for thee ! 
 When other eyes shall see, unmov'd. 
 
 Her widows mourn, her warriors fall, 
 ThouTt think how well one Gheber lov'd, 
 
 And for Ins sake thou'lt weep for all ! 
 But look " 
 
 With sudden start he tum'd. 
 
 And pointed to the distant wave. 
 Where lights, like charnel meteors, burn'd 
 
 Bluely, as o'er some seaman's grave ; 
 And fiery darts, at intervals,* 
 
 Flew up aU sparkling from the main. 
 As if each star that nightly falls. 
 
 Were shooting back to heaven again. 
 
 " My signal-lights ! — I must away — 
 Both, both are ruin'd, if I stay. 
 Farewell — sweet life ! thou chng'st in vaiu— - 
 Now, Vengeance ! — I am tliine again !" 
 Fiercely he broke away, nor stopp'd. 
 Nor look'd — but from the -lattice dropp'd 
 Down 'mid the pointed crags beneath. 
 As if he fled from love to death. 
 
 * ' ' The Mameluks that were m the other boat, when it was dark, used to shoot up a 
 sort of fiery an'owa into the air, which in some measure resembled liglitning or falhng 
 stars."- Btu'm;inrteu. 
 
 1.05 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 While pale and mute young- Hinda stood, 
 
 Nor mov'd, till in tlie silent flood 
 
 A momentary plunge below 
 
 Startled her from her trance of woe ; — 
 
 Shrieking she to the lattice flew, 
 
 " I come — I come — if in that tide 
 
 Thou sleep'st to-night — I '11 sleep there too, 
 
 In death's cold wedlock, by thy side. 
 Oh ! I would ask no happier bed 
 
 Than the chill wave my love lies under ; 
 Sweeter to rest together dead, 
 
 Par sweeter, than to Uve asunder !" 
 Bat no — their hour is not yet come — 
 
 Again she sees his pinnace fly, 
 W^afting him fleetly to his home, 
 
 Wliere'er that ill-starr'd home may lie ; 
 And calm and smooth it seem'd to win 
 
 Its moonlight way before the wind, 
 As if it bore all peace within. 
 
 Nor left one breaking heart behind ! 
 
 156 
 
LALLA HOOKH. 
 
 The Princess, whose heart was sad enough already, could have 
 wished that Feramoez had chosen a less melancholy story, as it 
 is only to the happy that tears are a lirxury. Her ladies, how- 
 ever, were by no means sorry that love was once more the Poet's 
 theme ; for, when he spoke of love, they said, his voice was 
 as sweet as if he had chewed the leaves of that enchanted tree 
 which grows over the tomb of the musician, Tan-Sein. 
 
 Their road all the morning had lain through a very dreary 
 country ; — through valleys covered with a low, bushy jungle, 
 where, in more than one place, the awful signal of the bamboo 
 stafi", with the white flag at its top, reminded the traveller that 
 in that very spot the tiger had made some human creature his 
 victim. It was therefore with much pleasure that they arrived 
 at sunset in a safe and lovely glen, and encamped under one of 
 those holy trees, whose smooth columns and spreading roofs 
 seem to destine them for natural temples of religion. Beneath 
 the shade, some pious hands had erected pillars ornamented with 
 the most beautiful porcelain, which now supplied the use of 
 mirrors to the young maidens, as they adjusted their hair in 
 descending from the palankeens. Here, while, as usual, the 
 Princess sat listening anxiously, with Fadladeen, ia one of his> 
 loftiest moods of criticism, by her side, the young Poet, leaning 
 agaiast a branch of the tree, thus continued his story : — 
 
 \n 
 
The morn hath risen clear and cahn, 
 And o'er the Green Sea* palely shines, 
 
 - Tlio I'ui-Mi 
 
 i^lllt'. — "To dtvo for i)eiirls in tlio (livcii Scii, or I'crteiaii liullV 
 
THE PIBE-WOESHIPPERS. 
 
 Revealing Bahrein's groves of palm, 
 
 And lighting Kislima^s* amber vines. 
 Fresh smell the shores of Araby, 
 While breezes from the Indian sea 
 Blow round Selama's f sainted cape, 
 
 And curl the shining flood beneath, — 
 Whose waves are rich with many a grape, 
 
 And cocoa-nut and flowery wreath. 
 Which pious seamen, as they pass'd. 
 Had tow'rd that holy headland cast — 
 Oblations to the Genii there 
 For gentle skies and breezes fair ! 
 The nightingale now bends her flight 
 From the high trees, where all the night 
 
 She sung so sweet, with none to listen ; 
 And hides her from the morning star. 
 
 Where thickets of pomegranate glisten 
 In the clear dawn — bespangled o'er 
 
 With dew, whose night-drops would not stain 
 The best and brightest scimitar J 
 That ever youthful Sultan wore 
 
 On the fi.rst morning of his reign ! 
 
 And see — the Sun himself ! — on wings 
 Of glory up the east he springs. 
 
 ♦ Islands in the Gulf. 
 
 t Or Selemeh, the genuine name of the headland at the entrance of the Gulf, com- 
 monly called Cape Musseldom. " The Indians, when they pass the promontory, throw 
 cocoa-nuts, fruits, or flowers into the sea, to secure a propitious voyage."— -Mbrier. 
 
 t In speaking of the climate of Shiraz, Francklin says, "The dew is of such a pure 
 nature, that if the brightest scimitar should be exposed to it all night, it would not 
 receive the least rust." 
 
 159 
 
I.ALLA KIIOKH. 
 
 Angel of light ! who, from the time 
 Those heavens began their march sublime, 
 Hath first of all the starry choir, 
 Trod in his Maker's steps of fire ! 
 
 Where are the days, thou wondrous sphere, 
 When Iran, like a sun-flower, tui'u'd 
 To meet that eye, where'er it bui-n'dy — 
 
 When, from the banks of Bendemeer 
 To the nut-groves of Samarcand 
 Thy temples flam'd o'er all the land? 
 Where are they ! — ask the shades of them 
 
 Who, on Cadessia's * bloody plains. 
 Saw fierce invaders pluck the gem 
 From Iran's broken diadem. 
 
 And bind her ancient faith in chains : — 
 Ask the poor exile, cast alone 
 On foreign shores, unlov'd, unknown, 
 Beyond the Caspian's Iron Gates, f 
 
 Or on the snowy Mossian mountains, 
 Far from his beauteous land of dates. 
 
 Her jasmine bowers and sunny fountains ! 
 Yet happier so than if he trod 
 His own belov'd but blighted sod. 
 Beneath a des])()t stranger's nod ! — 
 Oh ! he would rather houseless roam 
 
 Where Freedom and liis God may lead, 
 'J'han be the sleekest slave at home. 
 
 That crouches ti) the conqueror's creed ! 
 
 riic place where the Pei'sians were fniiilly dcfeiited by the AimIis, and their inineiil 
 iiionarehy destroyed. 
 
 t Dcrbend. — " Les Turcs appellent cettc villo Doiuir Ciijn, Toi'tc de Fer; cc sent lu^ 
 I 'iispia' Porta3 des anciens." — D' Ilt:rljdoi . 
 
THE PIRE-WORSHIPPEES. 
 
 Is Iran's pride then gone for ever, 
 
 Quench'd with the flame in Mithra's caves ?- 
 No — she has sons that never — never — 
 Will stoop to be the Moslem's slaves, 
 While heav'n has light, or earth has graves. 
 Spirits of fire, that brood not long. 
 But flash resentment back for wrong ; 
 And hearts where, slow but deep, the seeds 
 Of vengeance ripen into deeds. 
 Till, in some treacherous hour of calm. 
 They burst, like Zeilan's giant palm,* 
 Whose buds fly open with a sound 
 That shakes the pigmy forests round ! 
 
 Yes, Emir ! he, who scal'd that tower. 
 
 And, had he reach'd thy slumbering breast, 
 Had taught thee, in a Gheber's power 
 
 How safe ev'n tyrant heads may rest — 
 Is one of many, brave as he. 
 Who loathe thy haughty race and thee ; 
 Who, though they know the strife is vain — 
 Who, though they know the riven chain 
 Snaps but to enter in the heart 
 Of him who rends its links apart, — 
 Yet dare the issue, — blest to be 
 Ev'n for one bleeding moment free. 
 And die in pangs of liberty ! 
 
 * The Talpot or Talipot tree. "This beautiful palin-tree, which grows in the heart 
 of the forests, may he classed amoBg the loftiest trees, and becomes still higher when 
 on the point of bursting forth from its leafy summit. The sheath which then envelopes 
 the flower is very large, and, when it bursts, makes an explosion like the report of a 
 cannon.' ' — Tlmnherg. 
 
 a 161 
 
LALI,A ROOKH. 
 
 Thou know'st tliem well, — 'tis some moons since 
 Thy turban'd troops and blood-red flags. 
 
 Thou satrap of a bigot prince ! 
 
 Have swarm'd among these Green Sea crags ; 
 
 Yet here, ev'n here, a sacred band. 
 
 Ay, in the portal of that land 
 
 Thou, Arab, dar'st to call thy own. 
 
 Their spears across thy path have thrown ; 
 
 Here — ere the winds half wing'd thee o'er, 
 
 Eebellion brav'd thee from the shore. 
 
 Rebellion ! foul, dishonouring word. 
 
 Whose wrongful blight so oft has stain'd 
 The holiest cause that tongue or sword 
 
 Of mortal ever lost or gain'd. 
 How many a spirit, born to bless, 
 
 Hath sunk beneath that witherino- name, 
 Whom but a day's, an hour's success 
 
 Had wafted to eternal fame ! 
 As exhalations, when they burst 
 From the warm earth,' if cliill'd at first. 
 If check'd in soaring from the plain, 
 Dai'ken to fogs, and sink again ; — 
 But, if they once triumphant spread 
 Their wings above the mountain -head, 
 Becoiiu' enthron'd in upper air. 
 And turn to sun-bright glories there ! 
 
 And who is he, that wields the might 
 Of frceduiii on the Green Sea brink, 
 
 Before whoso sabre's dazzling light 
 The eyes of Yemen's warriors wink ? 
 
THE PIEE-WOKSHIPPEES. 
 
 Who comes embower'd in the spears 
 Of Kerman's hardy mountaineers ? — • 
 Those mountaineers, that truest, last. 
 
 Cling to their country's ancient rites, 
 As if that God, whose eyelids cast 
 
 Their closing gleam on Iran's heights. 
 Among her snowy mountains threw 
 The last light of his worship too ! 
 
 'Tis Haped — name of fear, whose sound 
 
 Chills Hke the muttering of a charm ; — 
 Shout but that awful name around. 
 
 And palsy shakes the manUest arm. 
 'Tis Haeed, most accurst and dire 
 (So rank'd by Moslem hate and ire) 
 Of all the rebel Sons of Fire ! 
 Of whose malign, tremendous power 
 The Arabs, at their mid-watch hour, 
 Such tales of fearful wonder tell, 
 That each affrighted sentinel 
 PuUs down his cowl upon his eyes. 
 Lest Haped in the midst should rise ! 
 A man, they say, of monstrous birth, 
 A mingled race of flame and earth. 
 Sprung from those old, enchanted kings, * 
 
 Who in their fairy helms, of yore, 
 A feather from the mystic wings 
 
 Of the Simoorgh resistless wore j 
 
 * Tahmuras, and other ancient kings of Persia, wliose adventures in Fairy- Land 
 among the Peris and Dives may be found in Richardson's curious Dissertation. The 
 griifin Simoorgh, they say, took some feathers from her breast for Talmiui'as, with \vliich 
 he adorned his helmet, and transmitted them afterwards to liis descendants. 
 
 163 
 
LALLA ROOKH. 
 
 And gifted by the Fiends of Fire, 
 Wlio groan'd to see their shrines expire, 
 With charms that, all in vain withstood, 
 Would drown the Koran's light in blood ! 
 
 Such were the tales, that won belief, 
 
 And such the colouring fancy gave 
 To a young, warm, and dauntless Chief, — 
 
 One who, no more than mortal brave. 
 Fought for the land his soul ador'd. 
 
 For happy homes and altars free, — 
 His only tahsman, the sword. 
 
 His only speU-word, Liberty ! 
 One of that ancient hero Une, 
 Along whose glorious current shine 
 Names that have sanctified their blood ; 
 As Lebanon's small mountain-flood 
 Is render'd holy by the ranks 
 Of sainted cedars on its banks ! * 
 'Twas not for him to crouch the knee 
 Tamely to Moslem tyranny ; — 
 'Twas not for him, whose soul was cast 
 In the bright mould of ages past. 
 Whose melancholy spiiit, fed 
 With all the glories of the dead, 
 Thotigh fram'd for Iran's happiest years. 
 Was born among her chains and tears ! — 
 'Twas not for him to swell the crowd 
 Of slavish heads, that shrinking bow'd 
 
 • "This rivulet," sayh DancUni, "is called the Holy Bivcr from the 'cedar saintB ' 
 amonj? which it rises." 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 Before the Moslem, as he pass'd, 
 
 Like shrubs beneath the poison-blast ; — 
 
 No — far he fled — indignant fled 
 
 The pageant of his country's shame ; 
 While every tear her children shed 
 
 Fell on his soul, hke drops of flame ; 
 And, as a lover hails the dawn 
 
 Of a first smile, so welcomed he 
 The sparkle of the first sword drawn 
 
 For vengeance and for liberty ! 
 
 But vain was valour — vain the flower 
 Of Kerman, in that deathful hour. 
 Against Al Hassan's whelming power. — 
 In vain they met him, helm to helm, 
 Upon the threshold of that realm 
 He came in bigot pomp to sway, 
 And with their corpses block'd his way. — 
 In vain — ^for every lance they rais'd. 
 Thousands around the conqueror blaz'd ; 
 For every arm that Un'd their shore. 
 Myriads of slaves were wafted o'er, 
 A bloody, bold, and countless crowd. 
 Before whose swarm as fast they bow'd 
 As dates beneath the locust-cloud ! 
 
 There stood — but one short league away 
 From old Harmozia's sultry bay — 
 A rocky mountain, o'er the Sea 
 Of Oman beethng awfully. 
 A last and solitary link 
 
 Of those stupendous chains that reach 
 
 166 
 
THE PIEE-WOESHIPPERS. 
 
 From the broad Caspian's reedy brink, 
 Down winding to the Green Sea beach. 
 
 Around its base the bare rocks stood, 
 
 Like naked giants, in the flood. 
 As if to guard the Gulf across ; 
 
 While, on its peak, that brav'd the sky, 
 
 A ruin'd temple tower' d, so high 
 That oft the sleeping albatross * 
 
 Struck the wild ruins with her wing. 
 
 And from her cloud-rock'd slumbering 
 
 Started, to find man's dwelUng there. 
 
 In her own silent fields of air ! 
 
 Beneath, terrific caverns gave 
 
 Dark welcome to each stormy wave 
 
 That dash'd, Hke midnight revellers, in ; — 
 
 And such the strange, mysterious din 
 
 At times throughout those caverns roll'd, — 
 
 And such the fearful wonders told 
 
 Of restless sprites imprison'd there, 
 
 That bold were Moslem who would dare. 
 
 At twilight hour, to steer his skiff 
 
 Beneath the Gheber's lonely clifi'. 
 
 On the land side, those towers subhme, 
 That seem'd above the grasp of Time, 
 Were sever' d from the haunts of men 
 By n ^^-idi', deep, and wizard glen, 
 So fathomless, so full of gloom. 
 
 No eye could pierce the void between ; 
 
 * These bii'ds sleep in the air. They are most common about the Cape of Good 
 Hope. 
 
 166 
 
It seem'd a place where Gholes might come. 
 With their foul banquets from the tomb, 
 
 And in its caverns feed unseen. 
 Like distant thunder, from below. 
 
 The sound of many torrents came ; 
 
 167 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 Too deep for eye or ear to know 
 If 'twere the sea's imprison'd flow. 
 
 Or floods of ever-restless flame. 
 For each ravine, each rooky spire 
 Of that vast mountain, stood on fire ; * 
 And, though for ever past the days. 
 When God was worshipp'd in the blaze 
 That from its lofty altar shone, — 
 Though fled the priests, the votaries gone, 
 iStill did the mighty flame burn on. 
 Through chance and change, through good and il 
 Like its own God's eternal will. 
 Deep, constant, bright, unquenchable ! 
 
 Thither the vanquish'd Haped led 
 
 His httle army's last remains ; — 
 " Welcome, terrific glen !" he said, 
 " Thy gloom, that Ebbs' self might dread. 
 
 Is heav'n to him who flies from chains ! ' ' 
 ( )'er a dark, narrow bridge-way, known 
 To him and to his chiefs alone. 
 They cross'd the chasm, and gain'd the towers; — 
 " This home," he cried, " at least is ours — 
 Here wo may bleed, unmock'd by hymns 
 
 Of Moslem triumph o'er our head; 
 Hei'c wc may fall, nor leave our limbs 
 
 To quiver to the Moslem's tread. 
 Strctcli'd on this rock, while vultures' beaks 
 Are whetted on our yet warm cheeks, 
 Here — happy that no tyrant's eye 
 Gloats on our torments — we may die !" 
 
 t The Ghebers generally built their temples over subterraneous fii'ss. 
 
 i03 
 
THE PIRE-WOESHIPPEES. 
 
 ' Twas night when to those towers they came, 
 
 And gloomily the fitful Qame, 
 
 That from the ruin'd altar broke, 
 
 Glar'd on his features, as he spoke : — 
 
 " 'Tis o'er — -what men could do, we 've done — 
 
 If Iran will look tamely on. 
 
 And see her priests, her warriors^ driven 
 
 Before a sensual bigot's nod — 
 A wretch, who takes his lusts to heaven, 
 
 And makes a pander of his God ! — 
 If her proud sons, her high-bom souls, 
 
 Men in whose veins — oh, last disgrace ! — 
 The blood of Zal and Rustam * rolls — 
 
 If they will court this upstart race. 
 And turn from Mithra's ancient ray. 
 To kneel at shrines of yesterday ! — 
 If they will crouch to Iran's foes, 
 
 Why, let them. — tiU the land's despair 
 Cries out to heaven, and bondage grows 
 
 Too vile for ev'n the vile to bear ! 
 Till shame at last, long hidden, bums 
 Their inmost core, and conscience turns 
 Bach coward tear the slave lets fall 
 Back on his heart in drops of gall ! 
 But here, at least, are arms unchain' d, 
 And souls that thraldom never stain' d ; — 
 
 This spot, at least, no foot of slave 
 Or satrap ever yet profan'd ; 
 
 And, though but few — though fast the wave 
 
 • Ancient heroes of Persia. "Among the Gnebres there are some who boast then- 
 descent irom Rustam." — Sttiphen's Persia . 
 
 169 
 
LAT,LA ROOKH. 
 
 Of life is ebbing from our veins, 
 Enough for vengeance still remains. 
 As panthers, after set of sun, 
 Rush from the roots of Lebanon 
 Across the dark sea-robber's way,* 
 We '11 bound upon our startled prey ; — 
 And when some hearts that proudest swell 
 Have felt our falchions' last farewell ; 
 When hope's expiring throb is o'er. 
 And ev'n despair can prompt no more, 
 This spot shall be the sacred grave 
 Of the last few who, vainly brave, 
 Die for the land they cannot save ! " 
 
 His chiefs stood round — each shining blade 
 Upon the broken altar laid ; 
 And though so wild and desolate 
 Those courts, where once the might}- sate, 
 Nor longer on those mouldering towers 
 Was seen the feast of fruits and flowers, 
 With which of old the Magi fed 
 The wandering spirits of their dead ; f 
 Though neither priest nor rites were there, 
 Nor charmed leaf of pure pomegranate ; J 
 
 • Vije Russel's account of the panthers attacking travellers in the niglit on the sea- 
 ?^'iore about the roots of Lebanon. 
 
 t " Among other ceremonies, the Magi used to place upon the tops of higii towers 
 various kinds of rich viands, upon which it was supposed the Peris and the spirits of 
 their departed heroes regaled themselves." — Richardtion. 
 
 X In the ceremonies of the Ghebers round their fire, as described by Lord, " the 
 Daroo," he says, " giveth them water to drink, and a pomegranate leaf to chew in the 
 mouth, to cleanse them from inward uncleanness." 
 
 170 
 
THE PIBE-WOESHIPPERS. 
 
 Nor hymn J nor censer's fragrant air, 
 
 Nor symbol of their worshipp'd planet * 
 Yet the same God that heard their sires 
 Heard them,, while on that altar's fires 
 They swore the latest, holiest deed 
 Of the few hearts, still left to bleed, 
 Should be, in Iran's injur'd name. 
 To die upon that Mount of Flame — 
 The last of all her patriot line. 
 Before her last untrampled shrine ! 
 
 Brave, suffering souls ! they httle knew 
 How many a tear their injuries drew 
 From one meek maid, one gentle foe. 
 Whom Love first touch'd with others' woe — 
 Whose life, as free from thought as sin. 
 Slept Kke a lake, till Love threw in 
 His talisman, and woke the tide. 
 And spread its trembling circles wide. 
 Once, Emir, thy unheeding child, 
 'Mid aU this havoc, bloom'd and smil'd, — 
 Tranquil as on some battle-plain 
 
 The Persian lily shines and towers. 
 Before the combat's reddening stain 
 
 Hath faU'n upon her golden flowers. 
 Light-hearted maid, unaw'd, unmov'd. 
 While Heav'n but spar'd the sire she lov'd, 
 
 ♦ " Early in the mommg, they (the Parsees or Ghehers at Oulam) go in crowds to 
 pay their devotions to the Sun, to whom upon aU the altars there ai-e spheres conse- 
 crated, made by magic, resembling the circles of the sun; and when the sun rises, 
 these orbs seem to be inflamed, and to turn round with a great noise. They have 
 every one a censer in their hands, and offer incense to the sun." — Rahbl Benjamin. 
 
 Ill 
 
I,ALI,A EOOKH. 
 
 Once, at thy evening tales of blood 
 Unlistening and aloof she stood — 
 And oft, when thou hast pac'd along 
 
 Thy haratn halls with furious heat. 
 Hast thou not cursM her cheerful song, 
 
 That came across thee, calm and sweet. 
 Like lutes of angels, touch' d so near 
 Hell's confines, that the damn'd can hear ! 
 Far other feehngs Love hath brought — 
 
 Her soul all flame, her brow all sadness. 
 She now has but the one dear thought. 
 
 And thinks that o'er, almost to madness ! 
 Oft doth her sinking heart recall 
 
 His words — " For my sake weep for all;" 
 And bitterly, as day on day 
 
 Of rebel carnage fast succeeds. 
 She weeps a lover snatch'd away 
 
 In every Gheber wretch that bleeds. 
 There 's not a sabre meets her eye. 
 
 But with his life-blood seems to swim ; 
 There 's not an arrow wings the sky. 
 
 But fancy turns its point to him. 
 No more she brings, with footstep light, 
 Al Hassan's falchion for the fight ; 
 And — had he look'd with clearer sight. 
 Had not the mists, that ever rise 
 From a foul spirit, dimm'd his eyes — 
 He would have mark'd her shuddering frame 
 When from the field of blood he came. 
 The faltering speech — the look cstrang'd- - 
 Voice, step, and life, and beauty chang'd, — 
 
 173 
 
THE PTEE-W0K8H1PPEHS. 
 
 He would have marked all this, and known 
 Such change is wrought by Love alone ! 
 
 Ah ! not the love, that should have bless'd 
 So young, so innocent a breast ; 
 Not the pure, open, prosperous love. 
 That, pledged on earth, and seaFd above. 
 Grows in the world's approving eyes. 
 
 In friendship smile, and home's caress. 
 Collecting all the heart's sweet ties 
 
 Into one knot of happiness ! 
 No, HiNDA, no — thy fatal flame 
 Is nurs'd in silence, sorrow, shame ; 
 
 A passion, without hope or pleasure. 
 In thy soul's darkness buried deep. 
 
 It lies, like some ill-gotten treasure, — 
 Some idol, without shrine or name. 
 O'er which its pale-eyed votaries keep 
 Unholy watch, while others sleep ! 
 
 Seven nights have darken'd Oman's Sea, 
 Since last, beneath the moonlight ray, 
 She saw his light oar rapidly 
 
 Hurry her Gheber's bark away, — 
 And still she goes, at midnight hour. 
 To weep alone in that high bower, 
 And watch, and look along the deep 
 For him whose smiles first made her weep,— 
 But watching, weeping, all was vain. 
 She never saw his bark again. 
 The owlet's solitary cry, 
 The night-hawk, flitting darkly by, 
 
 173 
 
LAIJA ROOKH. 
 
 And oft the hateful carrion-bird^ 
 Heavily flapping his clogg'd wing. 
 Which reek'd with that day's banqueting — 
 
 Was all she saw, was all she heard. 
 
 'Tis the eighth morn — Al Hassan's brow 
 
 Is brighten'd with unusual joy ; — 
 What mighty mischief glads him now, 
 
 AVliG never smiles but to destroy ? 
 The sparkle upon Herkend's Sea, 
 When toss'd at midnight furiously,* 
 Tells not of wreck and ruin nigh, 
 More surely than that smiHng eye ! 
 
 " Up, daughter, up — the kerna's f breath 
 Has blown a blast would waken death. 
 And yet thou sleep' st, — up, child, and see 
 This blessed day for Heaven and me, 
 A day more rich in Pagan blood 
 Than ever flash' d o'er Oman's flood. 
 Before another dawn shall shine, 
 His head — heart — limbs — will all be mine ; 
 This very night, his blood shall steep 
 These hands all over ere I sleep !" — 
 
 " His blood !" she faintly scream' d — her mind 
 Still singling one from all mankind. — 
 
 * "It is observed, with respect to the Sea of Herkend, that when it is tossed by 
 tempestuous winds, it sparkles hke fire." — Travels of Tico Mohammedans. 
 
 t A kind of trumpet ;— it " was that used by Tamerlane, the somid of which is 
 described as micommonly dreadful, and so loud as to be heard at the distance of 
 f^overal miles." — Richardson. 
 
 174 
 
" Yes — spite of his ravines and towers^ 
 Hafed, my child, this night is ours. 
 Thanks to all-conquering treachery, 
 
 Without whose aid the hnks accurst, 
 That bind these impious slaves, would be 
 
 Too strong for Alla's self to burst ! 
 
 175 , 
 
LALLA ROOKH. 
 
 That rebel fiend, whose blade has sprefiil 
 
 My path with piles of Moslem dead, 
 
 Wbose baffling spells had almost driven 
 
 Back from their course the Swords of Heaven, 
 
 This night, with all his band, shall know 
 
 How deep an Arab's steel can go, 
 
 When Grod and vengeance speed the blow. 
 
 And, Prophet ! — by that holy wreath 
 
 Thou wor'st on Ohod's field of death,* 
 
 I swear, for every sob that parts 
 
 In anguish from these heathen hearts, 
 
 A gem from Persia's plunder'd mines 
 
 Shall glitter on thy Slirine of Shrines ! 
 
 But, ha ! — she sinks — that look so wild — 
 
 Those Uvid lips — my child, my child ! 
 
 This life of blood befits not thee, 
 
 And thou must back to Araby. 
 
 Ne'er had I risk'd thy timid sex 
 In scenes that man himself might drend, 
 Had I not hop'd our every tread 
 
 Would be on prostrate Persian necks — 
 Curst race, they offer swords instead ! 
 liut cheer thee, maid, — the wind that now 
 is blowing o'er thy feverish brow. 
 To-day shall waft tliee from the shore ; 
 And, ere a drop of this night's gore 
 Have time to chill in yonder towers, 
 Thiiii 'It see thv own sweet Arab bowers !" 
 
 * ' ' Moharanied hod two helmets, an interior and exterior one ; the latter of which, 
 L-Lilled Al Mawashah, the fillet, \\TeMth. or \\Trnth('d g^arland, he wore at the battle of 
 Ohod."— r«;,T.;™/ Hhlm-i/. 
 
 176 
 
THE FUIE-WORSHIPI'EK.S. 
 
 His bloody boast was all too true — 
 
 There lurk'd one wretch among the few 
 
 Whom Hafed's eagle eye could count 
 
 Around him on that Fiery Mount, — 
 
 One miscreant, who for gold betray'd 
 
 The pathway through the valley's shade 
 
 To those high towers where Freedom stood 
 
 In her last hold of flame and blood. 
 
 Left on the field last dreadful night, 
 
 When, sallying from their sacred height. 
 
 The Ghebers fought hope's farewell fight. 
 
 He lay — but died not with the brave ; 
 
 That sun, which should have gilt his grave, 
 
 Saw him a traitor and a slave ; — 
 
 And, while the few, who thence return' d 
 
 To their high rocky fortress, mourn'd 
 
 For him among the matchless dead 
 
 They left behind on glory's bed, 
 
 He liv'd, and, in the face of morn, 
 
 Laugh'd them and Faith and Heaven to scorn ! 
 
 Oh, for a tongue to curse the slave. 
 
 Whose treason, like a deadly bhght. 
 Comes o'er the councils of the brave. 
 
 And blasts them in their hour of might ' 
 May life's unblessed cup for him 
 Be drugg'd with treacheries to the brim, 
 With hopes, that but allure to fly. 
 
 With' joys, that vanish while he sips, 
 Like Dead Sea fruits, that tempt the eye, 
 
 But turn to ashes on the lips ! 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 His country's curse, his cMldren's shame, 
 Outcast of virtue, peace, and fame. 
 May he, at last, with lips of flame. 
 On the parch'd desert thirsting die, — 
 While lakes that shone in mockery nigh 
 Are fading off, untouch' d, untasted. 
 Like the once glorious hopes he blasted ! 
 And, when from earth his spirit flies. 
 
 Just Prophet, let the damn'd-one dwell 
 Full in the sight of Paradise, 
 
 Beholding heaven, and feeling hell ! 
 
IAI,1,A EOOKH. 
 
 Lalla Rookh had had a dream the night before, which, in 
 spite of the impendiag fate of poor Hafed, made her heart 
 more than usually cheerful duriag the morning, and gave her 
 cheeks all the freshened animation of a flower that the Bid-musk 
 has just passed over. She fancied that she was sailing on that 
 Eastern Ocean, where the sea-gipsies, who live for ever on the 
 water, enjoy a perpetual summer in wandering from isle to isle, 
 when she saw a small gilded bark approaching her. It was 
 like one of those boats which the Maldivian islanders annually 
 send adrift, at the mercy of winds and waves, loaded with 
 perfumes, flowers, and odoriferous wood, as an ofiering to the 
 spirit whom they call King of the Sea. At first, this little 
 bark appeared to be empty, but, on coming nearer 
 
 She had proceeded thus far in relating the dream to her 
 ladies, when Febamoez appeared at the door of the pavilion. 
 In his presence, of course, everything else was forgotten, and 
 the continuance of the story was instantly requested by all. 
 Fresh wood of aloes was set to burn in the cassolets ; — the 
 violet sherbets were hastily handed round, and, after a short 
 prelude on his lute, in the pathetic measure of Nava, which is 
 always used to express the lamentations of absent lovers, the 
 Poet thus continued : — 
 
 179 
 
The day is lowering — stilly black 
 Sleeps the grim wave^ while heaven's rack, 
 Dispers'd and wild, 'twixt earth and sky 
 Hangs like a shattered canopy ! 
 There's not a cloud in that blue plain 
 
 But tells of storm to come or past ; — 
 Here, flying loosely as the mane 
 
 Of a young war-horse in the blast ; — 
 There, roll'd in masses dark and swelling, 
 As ]}roud to be the thunder's dwelling ! 
 
THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 
 
 While some, already burst and riven, 
 Seem melting down the verge" of heaven ; 
 As though the infant storm had rent 
 
 The mighty womb that gave him birth. 
 And, having swept the firmament. 
 
 Was now in fierce career for earth. 
 On earth 'twas yet all calm around, 
 A pulseless silence, dread, profound. 
 More awful than the tempest's sound. 
 The diver steer'd for Ormus' bowers. 
 And moor'd his skifi" till calmer hours ; 
 The sea-birds, with portentous screech. 
 Flew fast to land ; — upon the beach 
 The pilot oft had paus'd, with glance 
 Tum'd upward to that wild expanse ; 
 And all was boding, drear, and dark 
 As her own soul, when Hinda's bark 
 Went slowly from the Persian shore ; — 
 No music tim'd her parting oar, * 
 Nor friends upon the lessening strand 
 Ijinger'd, to wave the unseen hand. 
 Or speak the farewell, heard no more, — 
 But lone, unheeded, from the bay 
 The vessel takes its mournful way. 
 Like some ill-destin'd bark that steers 
 In silence through the Gate of Tears, f 
 
 * " The Easterns used to set out on their longer voyages with music."— Hurmer. 
 
 t " The Gate of Tears, the straits or passage into the Ked Sea, commonly called 
 Babehnandel. It received this name from the old Arabians, on account of the danger 
 of the navigation, and the number of shipwrecks by which it was distinguished ; 
 which induced them to consider as dead, and to wear moxuTxing for, all who had the 
 boldness to hazard the passage through it into the Ethiopic ocean."— iiicAarrfsoH. 
 
LAIiLA ROOKH. 
 
 And where was stem Al Hassan tlien ? 
 Could not that saintly scourge of men 
 From bloodshed and devotion spare 
 One minute for a farewell there ? 
 No — close within, in changeful fits 
 Of cursing and of prayer, he sits, 
 In savage loneliness, to brood 
 Upon the coming night of blood. 
 
 With that keen, second-scent of death. 
 By which the vulture snuffs his food 
 
 In the still warm and living breath ! * 
 While o'er the wave his weeping daughter 
 Is wafted from these scenes of slaughter, — 
 As a young bird of Babylon, t 
 Let loose to teU of victory won. 
 Flies home, with wing, ah ! not unstain'd 
 By the red hands that held her chain'd. 
 
 And does the long-left home she seeks 
 Light up no gladness on her cheeks ? 
 The flowers she nurs'd — ^the well-known groves, 
 Where oft in dreams her spirit roves — 
 Once more to see her dear gazelles 
 Come bounding with their silver bells ; 
 Her birds' new plumage to behold. 
 And the gay, gleaming fishes count. 
 
 * "I have been told that whensoever an animal falls down dead, one or more 
 vultures, unseen before, instantly appear." — Pennant. 
 
 t " They fasten some writing to the wings of a Bagdat or Babylonian pigeon." — 
 Travels of certain EitijVtshmev. 
 
THE PIBE-WOESHIPPEES. 
 
 She leftj all filleted with gold, 
 
 Shooting around their jasper fount.* — 
 Her little garden mosque to see, 
 
 And once again, at evening hour, 
 To tell her ruby rosary 
 
 In her own sweet acacia bower. — 
 Can these dehghts, that wait her now, 
 Call up no sunshine on her brow ? 
 No, — silent, from her train apart — 
 As if ev'n now she felt at heart 
 The chill of her approaching doom — 
 She sits, all lovely in her gloom. 
 As a pale angel of the grave ; 
 And o'er the wide, tempestuous wave. 
 Looks, with a shudder, to those towers, 
 Where, in a few short awful hours. 
 Blood, blood, in streaming tides shall run. 
 Foul incense for to-morrow's sun ! 
 " Where art thou, glorious stranger ! thou. 
 So lov'd, so lost, where art thou now ? 
 Foe — Grheber — Infidel— whate'er 
 Th' unhallow'd name thou 'rt doomed to bear. 
 Still glorious^still to this fond heart 
 Dear as its blood, whate'er thou art ! 
 Yes — Alia, dreadful Alia ! yes — 
 If there be wrong, be crime in this. 
 Let the black waves, that round us roll. 
 Whelm me this instant, ere my soul. 
 
 * " The Empress of Jehan-Guire used to divert herself with feeding Lame fish iii 
 her canals, some of which were many years afterwards known by fillets of gold, which 
 she caused to be put roujid them." — Harrix. 
 
 163 
 
[,ALLA EOOKH. 
 
 Forgetting faith — home — father — all — 
 
 Before its earthly idol fall, 
 
 Xor worship ev'n Thyself above him. — 
 
 For, oh ! so wildly do I love him. 
 
 That Paradise itself were dim 
 
 And joyless, if not shar'd with him ! " 
 
 Her hands were clasp'd — her eyes upturn'd, 
 
 Dropping their tears Hke moonUght rain ; 
 And though her lip, fond raver ! burn'd 
 
 With words of passion, bold, profane, 
 Yet was there light around her brow, 
 
 A holiness in those dark eyes. 
 Which show' d — though wandering earthward uow- 
 
 Her spirit's home was in the skies. 
 Yes — for a spirit, pure as hers. 
 Is always pure, ev'n while it errs ; 
 As sunshine, broken in the rill, 
 Though turn'd astray, is sanshine still ! 
 
 k50 wholly had her mind forgot 
 
 All thoughts but one, she heeded not 
 
 The rising storm — the wave that cast 
 
 A moment's midnight, as it pass'd — 
 
 Nor heard the frequent shout, the tread 
 
 Of gathering tumult o'er her head — 
 
 Clash'd swords, and tongues that seem'd tn vie 
 
 With the rude riot of the sky. 
 
 But, hark ! — that war-whoop on the deck — 
 
 That crash, as if each engine there. 
 Mast, sails, and all, were gone to wreck, 
 
 'Mid yells and stampings of despair ! 
 
THE PIEE-WOBSHIPPERS. 
 
 Merciful Heaven ! what can it be ? 
 
 'Tis not the storm, though fearfully 
 
 The ship has shudder' d as she rode 
 
 O'er mountain waves. — " Forgive me, God ! 
 
 Forgive me !" — shriek'd the maid, and knelt, 
 
 Trembhiig all over, — for she felt 
 
 As if her judgment-hour was near ; 
 
 While crouching round, half dead with fear. 
 
 Her handmaids clung, nor breath' d, nor stirr'd- 
 
 When, hark ! — a second crash — a third — 
 
 And now, as if a bolt of thunder 
 
 Had riv'n the labouring planks asunder. 
 
 The deck falls in — what horrors then ! 
 
 Blood, waves, and tackle, swords and men. 
 
 Come mix'd together through the chasm ; — 
 
 Some wretches in their dying spasm 
 
 Still fighting on — and some that call 
 
 " For God and Iran !" as they fall ! 
 
 AVhose was the hand that turn'd away 
 The perils of th' infuriate fray. 
 And snatch'd her breathless from beneath 
 This wilderment of wreck and death ? 
 She knew not — for a faintness came 
 ChiU o'er her, and her sinking frame 
 Amid the ruins of that horn- 
 Lay, like a pale and scorched flower, 
 Beneath the red volcano's shower ! 
 But oh ! the sights and sounds of dread 
 That shock'd her, ere her senses fled ! 
 
 185 
 
r.AI.lA U00K7T. 
 
 The yawning deck — the crowd that strove 
 Upon the tottering planks above — 
 The sail, whose fragments, shivering o'er 
 The stragglers' heads, all dash'd with gore, 
 Fluttered like bloody flags — the clash 
 Of sabres, and the lightning's flash 
 
THE PIRE-WOESHIPPEES. 
 
 Upon their blades, high toss'd about 
 Like meteor brands * — as if throughout 
 
 The elements one fury ran. 
 One general rage, that left a doubt 
 
 Which was the fiercer, Heaven or Man ! 
 
 Once, too — but no — it could not be — 
 
 'Twas fancy all— yet once she thought 
 While yet her fading eyes could see. 
 
 High on the ruin'd deck she caught 
 A ghmpse of that unearthly form, 
 
 That glory of her soul, — ev'n then, 
 Amid the whirl of wreck and storm, 
 
 Shining above his fellow men, 
 As, on some black and troublous night. 
 The star of Egypt, t whose proud light 
 Never hath beamed on those who rest 
 In the White Islands of the West, J 
 Burns through the storm, with looks of flame 
 That put heaven's cloudier eyes to shame ! 
 But no — 'twas but the minute's dream — 
 A fantasy — and ere the scream 
 Had half-way pass'd her palhd lips, 
 A death-Uke swoon, a chill eclipse 
 Of soul and sense, its darkness spread 
 Around her, and she sunk, as dead ! 
 
 How calm, how beautiful, comes on 
 The stilly hour, when storms are gone ! 
 
 * The meteors tkat Pliny calls "faces." 
 
 t " The brilliant Canopus, unseen in European climates."— Bro«-». 
 
 t Vide Wilford's learned Essays on the Sacred Isles in the West. 
 
 187 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 When warring winds have died away, 
 And clouds, beneath the glancing ray. 
 Melt off, and leave the land and sea 
 Sleeping in bright tranquillity, — 
 Fresh, as if Day again were born. 
 Again upon the lap of Mom ! 
 Wten the Hght blossoms, rudely torn 
 And scatter'd at the whirlwind's will. 
 Hang floating in the pure air still, 
 Filhng it all with precious balm. 
 In gratitude for this sweet calm ; — 
 And every drop the thunder- showers 
 Have left upon the grass and flowers 
 Sparkles, as 'twere that Ughtning-gem * 
 Whose liquid flame is born of them ! 
 
 When, 'stead of one unchanging breeze. 
 There blow a thousand gentle airs. 
 And each a different perfume bears, — 
 
 As if the loveliest plants and trees 
 Had vassal breezes of their own. 
 To watch and wait on them alone. 
 And waft no other breath than theirs ! 
 Wlien the blue waters rise and fall. 
 In sleepy sunshine mantling all ; 
 And ev'n that swell the tempest leaves 
 Is Hke the full and silent heaves 
 
 * A precious stone of the Indies, called by the ancients Ceraunium, because it was 
 supposed to be found in places where thunder had fallen. Tertullian says it has a 
 glittering appearance, as if there had been fire in it; and the author of the Disser- 
 tation in Harris's Voyages supposes it to be the opal. 
 
THE PIEE-WOESHIPPRES. 
 
 Of lovers' hearts^ when newly blest, 
 Too newly to be quite at rest ! 
 
 Such was the golden hour, that broke 
 Upon the world, when Hinda woke 
 From her long trance, and heard around 
 No motion but the water's sound 
 Rippling against the vessel's side. 
 As slow it mounted o'er the tide. — 
 But where is she ? — her eyes are dark. 
 Are 'wilder'd still ; — is this the bark. 
 The same, that from Harmozia's bay 
 Bore her at mom — whose bloody way 
 The sea-dog track'd ? — no — strange and new 
 Is all that meets her wondering view. 
 Upon a galliot's deck she lies. 
 
 Beneath no rich pavilion's shade, 
 No plumes to fan her sleeping eyes, 
 
 Nor jasmine on her pillow laid ; 
 But the rude litter, roughly spread 
 With war-cloaks, is her homely bed, 
 And shawl and sash, on javehns hung. 
 For awning o'er her head are flung. 
 Shuddering she look'd around — there lay 
 
 A group of warriors in the sun. 
 Resting their limbs, as for that day 
 
 Their ministry of death were done. 
 Some gazing on the drowsy sea. 
 Lost in unconscious reverie ; 
 And some, who seem'd but ill to brook 
 That sluggish calm, with many a look 
 
 1ST 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 To the slack sail impatient cast, 
 As loose it flagg'd around tlie mast. 
 
 Blest AUa ! who shall save her now ? 
 
 There 's not, in aU that warrior-band. 
 One Arab sword, one turban'd brow. 
 
 Prom her own faithful Moslem land. 
 Their garb — the leathern belt * that wraps 
 
 Bach yellow vest f — that rebel hue — 
 The Tartar fleece upon their caps J — 
 
 Yes — ^yes — ^her fears are aU too true. 
 And Heaven hath, in this dreadful hour. 
 Abandon^ her to Hafed's power; — 
 Hafed the Gheber ! — at the thought 
 
 Her very heart's blood chills within ; 
 He, whom her soul was hourly taught 
 
 To loathe, as some foul fiend of sin. 
 Some minister, whom Hell had sent 
 To spread its blast, where'er he went, 
 And fling, as o'er our earth he trod, 
 His shadow betwixt man and God ! 
 And she is now his captive, — thrown 
 In his fierce hands, alive, alone ; 
 His the infuriate band she sees. 
 All infidels — all enemies ! 
 What was the daring hope that then 
 Cross'd her like lightning, as again. 
 
 * D'llerhelot, (irt. Agduani. 
 
 t " The Guebrcs arc known by a dark yeUow colour, which the men affect in their 
 clothes." — Thevenot. 
 
 X " Tho Kolali, or cap, worn by the Persians, is made of the skin of the sheep of 
 Tai'tary." — Ji'ariiii/. 
 
THE FIRE-WORSTIIPPTIES. 
 
 With boldnesa that despair had lent, 
 
 She darted through that armed crowd 
 A look so searching, so intent. 
 
 That ev'n the sternest warrior bow'd 
 Abash' d, when he her glances caught. 
 As if he guess'd whose form they sought. 
 But no — she sees him not — 'tis gone, — 
 The vision, that before her shone 
 Through all the maze of blood and storm, 
 Is fled — 'twas but a phantom form — 
 One of those passing, rainbow dreams. 
 Half light, half shade, which Fancy's beams 
 Paint on the fleeting mists that roll 
 In trance or slumber round the soul ! 
 
 But now the bark, with livelier bound. 
 
 Scales the blue wave— the crew 's in motion- 
 The oar? "are out, and with light sound 
 Break the blue mirror of the ocean. 
 Scattering its brilhant fragments round. 
 And now she 'sees — with horror sees — 
 Their course is tow'rd that mountain hold. 
 Those towers, that make her life-blood freeze. 
 Where Mecca's godless enemies 
 Lie, like beleaguer'd scorpions, roU'd 
 In their last deadly, venomous fold ! 
 Amid th' illumin'd land and flood. 
 Sunless that mighty mountain stood ; 
 Save where, above its awful head. 
 There shone a flaming cloud, blood-red. 
 
 m 
 
LALLA ROOKH. 
 
 As 'twere the flag of destiny, 
 
 Hung out to mark where death would be ! 
 
 Had her bewilder'd mind the power 
 Of thought in this terrific hour. 
 She well might marvel where or how 
 Man's foot could scale that mountain's brow ; 
 Since ne'er had Arab heard or known 
 Of path but through the glen alone. — 
 But every thought was lost in fear, 
 When, as their bounding bark drew near 
 The craggy base, she felt the waves 
 Hurry them tow'rd those dismal caves, 
 That from the deep in windings pass 
 Beneath that mount's volcanic mass — 
 And loud a voice on deck commands 
 To lower the mast and Ught the brands ! — 
 Instantly o'er the dashing tide 
 Within a cavern's mouth they glide. 
 Gloomy as that eternal porch, 
 
 Through which departed spirits go ; — 
 Not ev'n the flare of band and torch 
 Its flickering hght could further throw 
 Than the thick flood that boil'd below. 
 Silent they floated — as if each 
 Sat breathless, and too awed for speech 
 In that dark chasm, where even sound 
 Seem'd dark, — so sullenly around 
 The goblin echoes of the cave 
 Mutter'd it o'er the long black wave, 
 As 'twere some secret from the grave ! 
 
 19S 
 
THE FIRE-WOESHIPPEWS, 
 
 But soft — they pause — the current turns 
 
 Beneath them from its onward track ; — 
 Some mighty, unseen barrier spurns 
 The vexed tide, all foaming, back. 
 And scarce the oar's redoubled force 
 Can stem the eddy's whirling course ; 
 When, hark ! — -some desperate foot has sprung 
 Among the rocks — the chain is flung — 
 The oars are up — the grapple clings. 
 And the toss'd bark in moorings swings. 
 Just then, a daybeam through the shade 
 Broke tremulous — but, ere the maid 
 Can see from whence the brightness steals, 
 Upon her brow she shuddering feels 
 A viewless hand, that promptly ties 
 A bandage round her burning eyes ; 
 Wbile the rude Utter where she lies, 
 UpUfted by the warrior throng. 
 O'er the steep rocks is borne along. 
 
 Blest power of sunshine ! genial Day, 
 What babn, what life, is in thy ray ! 
 To feel thee is such real bliss. 
 That had the world no joy but this. 
 To sit in sunshine calm and sweet, — 
 It were a world too exquisite 
 For man to leave it for the gloom. 
 The deep, cold shadow of the tomb ! 
 Ev'n HiNDA, though she saw not where 
 
 Or whither wound the perilous road. 
 Yet knew by that awakening air. 
 
 Which suddenly around her glow'd, 
 
 B B 193 
 
That they had ris'n from darkness theiij 
 And breath'd the sunny world again ! 
 
 But soon this balmy freshness fled— 
 
 For now the steepy labyrinth led 
 
 Through damp and gloom — 'mid crash of boughs, 
 
 And faU of loosen' d crags that rouse , ,: 
 
 The leopard from his hungry sleep. 
 
 Who, starting, thinks each crag a prey. 
 And long is heard from steep to steep. 
 
 Chasing them down their thundering way ! 
 The jackal's cry — the distant moan 
 Of the hyeena, fierce and lone ; — 
 And that eternal, saddening sound 
 
 Of torrents in the glen beneath. 
 As 'twere the ever-dark profound 
 
 That rolls beneath the Bridge of Death ! 
 
THE PIEK-WOESHIPPEES. 
 
 All, all is fearful — ev'n to see, 
 
 To gaze on those terrific things 
 She now but blindly hears, would be 
 
 Relief to her imaginings ! 
 Since never yet was shape so dread. 
 
 But Fancy, thus in darkness thrown, 
 And by such sounds of horror fed. 
 
 Could frame more dreadful of her own. 
 
 But does she dream? has fear again 
 
 Perplex' d the workings of her brain? 
 
 Or did a voice, all music, then 
 
 Come from the gloom, low whispering near — 
 
 "Tremble not, love, thy Gheber's here?" 
 
 She does not dream — all sense, all ear. 
 
 She drinks the words, " Thy Gheber 's here." 
 
 'Twas his own voice— she could not err — 
 
 Throughout the breathing world's extent 
 There was but one such voice for her. 
 
 So kind, so soft, so eloquent ! 
 Oh ! sooner shall the rose of May 
 
 Mistake her own sweet nightingale. 
 And to some meaner minstrel's lay 
 
 Open her bosom's glowing veil, * 
 Than Love shall ever doubt a tone, 
 A breath of the beloved one ! 
 Though blest, 'mid all her ills, to think 
 
 She has that one beloved near. 
 
 * A frequent image among the Oriental poets. " The nightingales warbled their 
 enchanting notes, and rent the thin veils of the rosebud and the rose." — Jami. 
 
 "19B 
 
LALLA KOOKH. 
 
 Whose smile^ though met on ruin's brink. 
 
 Hath power to make ev'n ruin dear, — 
 Yet soon this gleam of rapture, cross'd 
 By fears for him, is chill' d and lost. 
 How shall the ruthless Haped brook 
 That one of Gheber blood should look, 
 With aught but curses in his eye. 
 On her — a maid of Araby — 
 A Moslem maid — the child of him, 
 
 Whose bloody banner's dire success 
 Hath left their altars cold and dim, 
 
 And their fair land a wilderness ! 
 And, worse than all, that night of blood 
 
 Which comes so fast — oh ! who shall stay 
 The sword, that once hath tasted food 
 
 Of Persian hearts, or turn its way ? 
 What arm shall then the victim cover. 
 Or from her father shield her lover ? 
 
 " Save him, my God !" she inly cries — • 
 " Save him this night — and if thine eyes 
 Have ever welcom'd with dehght 
 The sinner's tears, the sacrifice 
 
 Of sinners' hearts — guard him this night. 
 And here, before thy throne, I swear 
 From my heart's inmost core to tear 
 
 Love, hope, remembrance, though they be 
 Link'd with each quivering life-string there. 
 
 And give it bleeding aU to Thee ! 
 Let him but Uve, the burning tear, 
 The sighs, so sinful, yet so dear, 
 
THE FIEB-WOESHIPPEES. 
 
 Which have been all too much his own, 
 Shall from this liour be Heaven's alone. 
 Youth pass'd in penitence, and age 
 In long and painful pilgrimage. 
 Shall leave no traces of the flame 
 That wastes me now — nor shall his name 
 E'er bless my Ups, but when I pray 
 For his dear spirit, that away 
 Casting from its angelic ray 
 Th' eclipse of earth, he too may shine 
 Redeem' d, all glorious, and all Thine ! 
 Think — think what victory to win 
 One radiant soul like his from sin ; — 
 One wandering star of virtue back 
 To its own native, heavenward track ! 
 Let him but live, and both are Thine, 
 
 Together Thine — ^for, blest or crost. 
 Living or dead, his doom is mine. 
 
 And if he perish, both are lost ! " 
 
LALLA KOOKfl. 
 
 The next evening, Lalla Rookh was entreated by her 
 ladies to continue the relation of her wonderful dream ; but 
 the fearful interest that bung round the fate of Hinda and 
 her lover had completely removed every trace of it from her 
 mind ; — much to the disappointment of a fair seer or two in 
 her train, who prided themselves on their skill in interpreting 
 visions, and who' had already remarked, as an unlucky omen, 
 that the Princess, on the very morning after the dream, had 
 worn a silk dyed with the blossoms of the sorrowfal tree, 
 Nilica. 
 
 Fadladeen, whose wrath had more than once broken out 
 during the recital of some parts of this most heterodox poem, 
 seemed at length to have made up his mind to the infliction ; 
 and took his seat this evening with all the patience of a 
 martyr, while the Poet continued his profane and seditious 
 story thus : — 
 
 198 
 
■J'HE KIHE-WORSHIPPEES. 
 
 To careless eyes and hearts at ease^ 
 The leafy shores and sun-bright seaSj 
 That lay beneath that mountain's height. 
 Had been a fair, enchanting sight. 
 'Twas one of those ambrosial eves 
 A day of storm so often leaves 
 At its calm setting — when the west 
 Opens her golden bowers of rest. 
 And a moist radiance from the skies 
 Shoots trembUng down, as from the eyes 
 Of some meek penitent, whose last. 
 Bright hours atone for dark ones past, 
 And whose sweet tears, o'er wrong forgiven, 
 Shine, as they fall, with Ught from heaven ! 
 
 'Twas stillness aU — the winds that late 
 
 Had rush'd through Kerman's almond-groves, 
 And shaken from her bowers of date 
 
 That cooHng feast the traveller loves,* 
 Now, lull'd to languor, soarely curl 
 
 The Green Sea wave, whose waters gleam 
 Limpid, as if her mines of pearl 
 
 Were melted all to form the stream ; 
 
 * " In parts of Kerman, whatever dates are shaken from the trees by the wind they 
 do not touch, but leave them for those who have not any, or for travellers." — Ebn 
 llaukal. 
 
 199 
 
LALLA EOOKF. 
 
 And her fair islets, small and bright, 
 With their green shores reflected there. 
 
 Look Hke those Peri isles of light. 
 That hang by spell-work in the air. 
 
 But vainly did those glories burst 
 On Hinda's dazzled eyes, when first 
 The bandage from her brow was taken. 
 And pale and awed, as those who waken 
 In their dark tombs — when, scowhng near, 
 The Searchers of the Grave * appear — 
 She shuddering turned to read her fate 
 
 In the fierce eyes that flash' d around ; 
 And saw those towers all desolate. 
 
 That o'er her head terrific frown'd, 
 As if defying ev'n the smile 
 Of that soft heaven to gild their pile. 
 In vain, with mingled hope and fear, 
 She looks for him, whose voice so dear 
 Had come, Uke music, to her ear — 
 Strange, mocking dream ! again 'tis fled. 
 And oh ! the shoots, the pangs of dread. 
 That through her inmost bosom run, 
 
 When voices from without proclaim, 
 " Hafed, the Chief!" — and, one by one. 
 
 The warriors shout that fearful name ! 
 He comes — the rock resounds his tread — 
 How shall she dare to lift her head. 
 
 * The two terrible angels, Moakii' and Nakir, who are called "the Searchers of the 
 Grave" in the "Creed of the Orthodf)x Mahometans," given hy Ockley, vol. ii. 
 
THE FIRE-WOESHIPPEKS. 
 
 Or meet those eyes, whose scorching glare 
 Not Yemen's boldest sons can bear ? 
 In whose red beam, the Moslem tells, 
 Such rank and deadly lustre dwells. 
 As in those hellish fires that light 
 The mandrake's charnel leaves at night ! * 
 How shall she bear that voice's tone, 
 At whose loud battle-cry alone 
 Whole squadrons oft in panic ran, 
 Scatter' d, like some vast caravan. 
 When, stretch' d at evening round the well, 
 They hear the thirsting tiger's yell ! 
 
 Breathless she stands, with eyes cast down. 
 Shrinking beneath the fiery frown. 
 Which, fancy tells her, from that brow 
 Is flashing o'er her fiercely now ; 
 And shuddering, as she hears the tread 
 
 Of his retiring warrior band. — 
 Never was pause so full of dread ; 
 
 Till Haped, with a trembling hand. 
 Took hers, and, leaning o'er her, said, 
 " HiNDA ! " — that word was all he spoke, 
 And 'twas enough — the shriek that broke 
 
 From her full bosom told the rest, — 
 Panting with terror, joy, surprise. 
 The maid but lifts her wondering eyes. 
 
 To hide them on her Gheber's breast ! 
 
 • " The Arabians call the mandrake ' the DeviVs candle,' on account of its shining 
 appearance in the night."— liirh/trdson. 
 
'Tis he, 'tis he ! — the man of blood, 
 
 The fellest of the Fire-fiend's brood, 
 
 Haped, the demon of the fight. 
 
 Whose voice unnerves, whose glances blight,- 
 
 Is her own loved Gheber, mild 
 
 And glorious, as when first lie smil'd 
 
THK FIRE-WOliStllPPEES. 
 
 In her lone tower, and left such beams 
 Of his pure eye to hght her dreams, 
 That she believ'd her bower had given 
 Rest to some wanderer from heaven ! 
 
 Moments there are — and this was one— 
 Snatch'd like a minute's gleam of sun 
 Amid the black simoom's eclipse, — 
 
 Or like those verdant spots that bloom 
 Around the crater's burning Ups, 
 
 Sweetening the very edge of doom ! 
 The past — the future — all that fate 
 Can bring of dark or desperate 
 Around such hours — ^but makes them cast 
 Intenser radiance while they last ! 
 
 Ev'n he, this youth — though dimm'd and gone 
 
 Each star of hope that cheer'd him on — 
 
 His glories lost — ^his cause betrajr'd — 
 
 Iran, his dear-lov'd country, made 
 
 A land of carcases and slaves. 
 
 One dreary waste of chains and graves ! — 
 
 Himself but Ungering, dead at heart. 
 
 To see the last long-struggling breath 
 Of Liberty's great soul depart. 
 
 Then lay him down, and share her death, — • 
 Ev'n he, so sunk in wretchedness. 
 
 With doom still darker gathering o'er him, 
 Yet, in this moment's pure caress. 
 
 In the mild eyes that shone before him. 
 Beaming that blest assurance, worth 
 All other transports known on earth — • 
 
 203 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 That he was lov'd — well, warmly lov'd — 
 Oh ! in this precious hour he prov'd 
 How deep, how thorough-felt the glow 
 Of rapture, kindhng out of woe ; — 
 How exquisite one single drop 
 Of bliss, thus sparkhng to the top 
 Of misery's cup — how keenly quaff 'd. 
 Though death must follow on the draught ! 
 
 She too, while gazing on those eyes 
 
 That sink into her soul so deep. 
 Forgets all fears, all miseries. 
 
 Or feels them like the wretch in sleej). 
 Whom fancy cheats into a smile. 
 Who dreams of joy, and sobs the while ! 
 The mighty ruins where they stood. 
 
 Upon the mount's high, rocky verge. 
 Lay open tow'rds the ocean flood. 
 
 Where Lightly o'er the illumined surge 
 Many a fair bark that, all the day. 
 Had lurk'd in sheltering creek or bay, 
 Now bounded on, and gave their sails. 
 Yet dripping, to the evening gales ; 
 Like eagles, when the storm is done. 
 Spreading their wet wings in the sun. 
 The beauteous clouds, though daylight's star 
 Had sunk behind the hills of Lar, 
 Were still with lingering glories bright, — 
 
 As if, to grace the gorgeous west. 
 The Spirit of departing Light 
 
 That eve had left his sunny vest 
 Behind him, ere he wing'd his flight. 
 
 204 
 
THE FIEJ3-W0RSHIPPBES. 
 
 Never was scene so form'd for love ! 
 Beneath thenij waves of crystal move 
 In silent swell — heaven glows above ; 
 And their pure hearts, to transport given. 
 Swell like the wave, and glow Kke heaven ! 
 But ah ! too soon that dream is past — 
 
 Again, again her fear returns ; — 
 Night, dreadful night, is gathering fast. 
 
 More faintly the horizon burns. 
 And every rosy tint that lay 
 On the smooth sea hath died away. 
 Hastily to the darkening skies 
 A glance she casts — then wildly cries, 
 " At night, he said — and, look, 'tis near — 
 
 Fly, fly — if yet thou loVst me, fly, — 
 Soon will his murderous band be here, 
 
 And I shall see thee bleed and die. — 
 Hush ! — heard'st thou not the tramp of men 
 Sounding from yonder fearful glen ? 
 Perhaps ev'n now they chmb the wood — 
 
 Fly, fly — though still the west is bright, 
 He 'U come — oh ! yes — ^he wants thy blood — 
 
 I know him — ^he '11 not wait for night ! " 
 
 In terrors ev'n to agony 
 
 She clings around the wondering Chief ; — 
 " Alas, poor 'wilder'd maid ! to me 
 
 Thou ow'st this raving trance of grief. 
 Lost as I am, nought ever grew 
 Beneath my shade but perish'd too — 
 My doom is like the Dead Sea air, 
 And nothing lives that enters there ! 
 
 305 
 
LAI.LA ROOKH. 
 
 Why were our barks together driven 
 Beneath this morning's furious heaven ? 
 Wh.y, when I saw the prize that chance 
 
 Had thrown into my desperate arms, — 
 When, casting but a single glance 
 
 Upon thy pale and prostrate charms, 
 I vow'd (though watching viewless o'er 
 
 Thy safety through that hour's alarms) 
 To meet th' unmanning sight no more — 
 Why have I broke that heart-wrung vow ? 
 Why weakly, madly, met thee now ? — 
 Start not — that noise is but the shock 
 
 Of torrents through yon valley hurl'd ; 
 Uread nothing here — upon this rock 
 
 We stand above the jarring world. 
 Alike beyond its hope — its dread — 
 In gloomy safety, like the dead ! 
 Or, could ev'n earth and hell unite 
 In league to storm this sacred height. 
 Fear nothing thou — myself, to-night. 
 And each o'erlooking star that dwells 
 Near God, will be thy sentinels ; 
 And, ere to-morrow's dawn shall glow. 
 
 Back to thy sire " 
 
 " To-morrow ! — no — 
 The maiden scream' d — " thou'lt never see 
 To-morrow's sun — death, death will be 
 The night-cry through each reeking tower. 
 Unless we fly — aye, fly this hour ! 
 Thou art betray'd — some wretch who knew 
 That dreadful glen's mysterious clew — 
 Nay, doubt not — by yon stars, 'tis true — 
 
 ^06 
 
THE FIRE-WORSHTI'I'l-ES. 
 
 Hath, sold thee to my vengeful sire ; 
 
 This morning, with that smile so dire 
 
 He wears in joy, he told me all. 
 
 And stamped in triumph through our hall, 
 
 As though thy heart already beat 
 
 Its last life-throb beneath his feet ! 
 
 Good Heaven ! how Uttle dream'd I then 
 
 His victim was my own lov'd youth ! — 
 Fly — send — let some one watch the glen- — 
 
 By all my hopes of heaven, 'tis truth ! " 
 Oh ! colder than the wind that freezes 
 
 Founts, that but now in sunshine playM, 
 Is that congealiug pang which seizes 
 
 The trusting bosom, when betray'd. 
 He felt it — deeply felt — and stood, 
 As if the tale had froz'n his blood, 
 
 So maz'd and motionless was he ; — 
 Like one whom sudden spells enchant, 
 Or some mute, marble habitant 
 
 Of the stiU halls of Ishmonie ! * 
 
 But soon the painful chill was o'er. 
 And his great soul, herself once more, 
 Look'd from his brow, in air the jays 
 Of her best, happiest, grandest days ! 
 Never, in moment most elate. 
 
 Did that high spirit loftier rise ; — 
 While bright, serene, determinate. 
 
 His looks are lifted to the skies, 
 
 * For an account of Ishmonie, the petrifled city in Upper Egypt, where, it is said, 
 there are many statues of men, women, &c., to be seen to this day, liile Perr/a T'lcir 
 of the Leoa)if. 
 
 207 
 
LALLA KOOKH. 
 
 As if the signal-lights of fate 
 
 Were shining in those awful eyes ! 
 'Tis come — his hour of martyrdom 
 In Iran's sacred cause is come ; 
 And, though his hfe hath pass'd away 
 Like lightning on a stormy day, 
 Yet shall his death- hour leave a track 
 
 Of glory, permanent and bright. 
 To which the brave of after-times. 
 The suffering brave, shall long look back 
 With proud regret, and by its hght 
 Watch through the hours of slavery's night. 
 For vengeance on th' oppressor's crimes ! 
 This rock, his monument aloft. 
 
 Shall speak the tale to many an age ; 
 And hither bards and heroes oft 
 
 Shall come in secret pilgrimage. 
 And bring their warrior-sons, and tell 
 The wondering boys where Hafed fell. 
 And swear them, on those lone remains 
 Of their lost country's ancient fanes,' 
 Never — while breath of Hfe shall live 
 Within them — never to forgive 
 Th' accursed race, whose ruthless chain 
 Hath left on Iran's neck a stain 
 Blood, blood alone shall cleanse again ! 
 
 Such are the swelling thoughts that now 
 Enthrone themselves on Hafed' s brow ; 
 And ne'er did saint of Issa * gaze 
 
 On the red wreath, for martyrs twin'd, 
 
THE PIEE-WOESHIPPERS. 
 
 More proudly than the youth surveys 
 
 That pile, which through the gloom behind, 
 
 Half-lighted by the altar's fire. 
 
 Glimmers, — his destin'd funeral pyre ! 
 
 Heap'd by his own, his comrades' hands. 
 Of every wood of odorous breath. 
 
 There, by the Fire-God's shrine it stands, 
 Ready to fold in radiant death 
 
 The few still left of those who swore 
 
 To perish there, when hope was o'er — 
 
 The few, to whom that couch of flame. 
 
 Which rescues them from bonds and shame. 
 
 Is sweet and welcome as the bed 
 
 For their own infant Prophet spread. 
 
 When pitying HeaVn to roses tum'd 
 
 The death-flames that beneath him burn'd ! * 
 
 With watchfulness the maid attends 
 
 His rapid glance, where'er it bends ; — 
 
 Why shoot his eyes such awful beams 'i 
 
 What plans he now ? what thinks or dreams ? 
 
 Alas ! why stands he musing here. 
 
 When every moment teems with fear ? 
 
 " Haped, my own beloved lord," 
 
 She kneeling cries — " first, last ador'd ! 
 
 If in that soul thou 'st ever felt 
 
 Half what thy lips inipassion'd swore, 
 Here, on my knees, that never knelt 
 
 To any but my God before, 
 
 • The Ghebers 6ay, that when Abraham, their great prophet, was thrown into the 
 fire by order of Nimrod, the flame turned instanty into " a bed or roses, where the 
 child sweetly reposed." — Tavemier. 
 
 D D 209 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 I pray thee, as thou lov'st me, fly- 
 Now, now — ere yet their blades are nigh. 
 Oh haste ! — the bark that bore me hither 
 Can waft us o'er yon darkening sea, 
 
 East — west — alas ! I care not whither. 
 So thou art safe, and I with thee ! 
 
 Go where we will, this hand is thine, 
 Those eyes before me smiling thus, 
 
THE PIRE-WOESHIPPERS. 
 
 Through good and ill, through storm and shine, 
 
 The world ■'s a world of love for us ! 
 On some calm, blessed shore we '11 dwell, 
 Where 'tis no crime to love too well ; — 
 Where thus to worship tenderly 
 An erring child of light like thee 
 Will not be sin — -or, if it be, 
 Where we may weep our faults away, 
 Together kneehng, night and day. 
 Thou, for my sake, at AUa's shrine, 
 And I — at any God's, for thine ! " 
 
 Wildly these passionate words she spoke — 
 Then hung her head, and wept for shame ; 
 
 Sobbing, as if a heart-string broke 
 With every deep-heav'd sob that came. 
 
 While he, young, warm — oh ! wonder not 
 If, for a moment, pride and fame. 
 His oath — his cause — that shrine of flame. 
 
 And Iran's self are all forgot 
 
 For her whom at his feet he sees. 
 
 Kneeling in speechless agonies. 
 
 No, blame him not, if Hope awhile 
 
 Dawn'd in his soul, and tlirew her smile 
 
 O'er hours to come — o'er days and nights 
 
 Wing'd with those precious, pure delights 
 
 Which she, who bends all beauteous there, 
 
 Was born to kindle and to share ! 
 
 A tear or two, which, as he bow'd 
 
 To raise the suppliant, trembling stole. 
 
 First warn'd him of this dangerous cloud 
 Of softness passing o'er his soul. 
 
 211 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 Starting, he brush'd the drops away, 
 Unworthy o^er that cheek to stray ; — 
 Like one who, on the morn of fight, 
 Shakes from his sword the dews of night. 
 That had but dimmed, not stain' d, its Hght. 
 
 Yet, though subdued th' unnerving thrill, 
 Its warmth, its weakness, Unger'd still. 
 
 So touching in each look and tone. 
 That the fond, fearing, hoping maid 
 Half counted on the flight she pray'd. 
 
 Half though}; the hero's soul was grown 
 
 As soft, as yielding as her own. 
 And smil'd, and bless'd him, while he said,- 
 " Yes — if there be some happier sphere. 
 Where fadeless truth like ours is dear ; — 
 If there be any land of rest 
 
 For those who love and ne'er forget. 
 Oh ! comfort thee — for safe and blest 
 
 We '11 meet in that calm region yet ! " 
 
 Scarce had she time to ask her heart 
 If good or ill these words impart. 
 When the rous'd youth impatient flew 
 To the tower-wall, where, high in view, 
 A ponderous sea-horn * hung, and blew 
 A signal, deep and dread as those 
 Tlie storm-fiend at his rising blows. — 
 
 ♦ " The shell caHed Siiankos, common to India, Africa, and the Mediterranean, and 
 still used ia many parts as a trumpet for ljlo\ving alarms or giving signals ; it sends forth 
 a deep and hollow eovjiA,"— Pennatif. 
 
 212 
 
THE PiEE-WOBSHIPPEBS. 
 
 Full well his ctieftainSj sworn and true 
 Through life and death, that signal knew ; 
 For 'twas th' appointed warrdng-blastj 
 Th' alarm, to tell when hope was past, 
 And the tremendous death-die cast ! 
 And there, upon the mouldering tower, 
 Hath hung this sea-horn many an hour. 
 Ready to sound o'er land and sea 
 That dirge-note of the brave and free. 
 
 They came — his chieftains, at the call. 
 Came slowly round, and with them all — 
 Alas, how few ! — the worn remains 
 Of those who late o'er Kerman's plains 
 Went gaily prancing to the clash 
 
 Of Moorish zel and tymbalon. 
 Catching new hope from every flash 
 
 Of their long lances in the sun — 
 And, as their coursers charg'd the wind, 
 And the white ox-tails stream' d behind,* 
 Looking as if the steeds they rode 
 Were wing'd, and every chief a god ! 
 How fall'n, how alter'd now ! how wan 
 Bach scarr'd and faded visage shone. 
 As round the burning shrine they came ! — 
 
 How deadly was the glare it cast, 
 As mute they paus'd before the flame. 
 
 To light their torches as they pass'd ! 
 
 • " The finest ornament for the horses is made of six large flying tassels of long white 
 hair, taken out of the tails of wild oxen, that are to be found in some places of the 
 Indies." — Thevenot. 
 
 213 
 
LALLA ROOKH. 
 
 'Twas silence all — the youth had plann'd 
 The duties of his soldier-band ; 
 And each determined brow declares 
 His faithful chieftains well knew theirs. 
 
 But minutes speed — night gems the skies — 
 And oh ! how soon, ye blessed eyes 
 That look from heaven, ye may behold 
 Sights that will turn your star-fires cold ! 
 Breathless with awe, impatience, hope. 
 The maiden sees the veteran group 
 Her litter silently prepare. 
 
 And lay it at her trembling feet ; — 
 And now the youth, with gentle care, 
 
 Hath plac'd her in the shelter'd seat, 
 And pressed her hand — that lingering press 
 
 Of hands, that for the last time sever — 
 Of hearts, whose pulse of happiness. 
 
 When that hold breaks, is dead for ever. 
 And yet to Iwr this sad caress 
 
 Gives hope — so fondly hope can err ! 
 'Twas joy, she thought, joy's mute excess, 
 
 Their happy flight's dear harbinger; 
 'Twas warmth — assurance — tenderness — 
 
 'Twas anything but leaving her. 
 
 " Haste, haste!" she cried, "the clouds grow dsak. 
 But still, ere night, we '11 reach the bark ; 
 And, by to-morrow's dawn — oh bliss ! 
 
 With thee upon the sunbright deep, 
 Far off, I '11 but remember this. 
 
 As some dark, vanish'd dream of sleep ! 
 
THE FIRE-WORSHIPPEES. 
 
 And thou " But ha ! — he answers not — 
 
 Good Hear'n ! — and does she go alone ? 
 She now has reach'd that dismal spot, 
 
 Where, some hours since, his voice's tone 
 Had come to soothe her fears and ills, 
 Sweet as the angel Israfil's,* 
 When every leaf on Eden's tree 
 Is trembling to his minstrelsy— ^ 
 Yet now — oh now, he is not nigh — 
 
 " Hapbd ! my Haeed ! — if it be 
 Thy will, thy doom, this night to die. 
 
 Let me but stay to die with thee. 
 And I wiU bless thy loved name, 
 TUl the last life-breath leave this frame. 
 Oh ! let our lips, our cheeks, be laid 
 But near each other while they fade ; 
 Let us but mix our parting breaths. 
 And I can die ten thousand deaths ! 
 You, too, who hurry me away 
 So cruelly, one moment stay — ■ 
 
 Oh ! stay — one moment is not much — 
 He yet may come — for Mm I pray — 
 Haped ! dear Haped ! " — all the way. 
 
 In wild lamentings, that would touch 
 A heart of stone, she shriek'd his name 
 To the dark woods — no Haped came : — 
 No — hapless pair ! — ^you've look'd your last; 
 
 Your hearts should both have broken then : 
 The dream is o'er — your doom is cast — • 
 
 You '11 never meet on earth again ! 
 
 * " The angel Israiil, who has the most melodious voice of all God's creatures.' 
 Sale. 
 
 215 
 
LALLA EOOKTT. 
 
 Alas for him, who hears her cries ! — - 
 
 Still half-way down the steep he stands. 
 Watching with fix'd and feverish eyes 
 
 The glimmer of those burning brands. 
 That down the rocks, with mournful ray, 
 Light all he loves on earth away ! 
 Hopeless as they who, far at sea. 
 
 By the cold moon have just consign'd 
 The corse of one, lov'd tenderly. 
 
 To the bleak flood they leave behind ; 
 And on the deck still lingering stay. 
 And long look back, with sad delay. 
 To watch the moonlight on the wave. 
 That ripples o'er that cheerless grave. 
 
 But see — he starts — ^what heard he then ? 
 That dreadful shout ! — across the glen 
 Prom the land side it comes, and loud 
 Rings through the chasm j as if the crowd 
 Of fearful things that haunt that dell. 
 Its Gholes and Dives, and shapes of hell, 
 Had all in one dread howl broke out. 
 So loud, so terrible, that shout ! 
 " They come — -the Moslems come !" he cries, 
 His proud soul mounting to his eyes ; — 
 " Now, Spirits of the Brave, who roam 
 Enfranchised 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, reclirab'd the steep. 
 
 5in 
 
THE FIBE-WOESHIPPERS. 
 
 And gain'd the shrine — his chiefs stood round — 
 
 Their swords, as with instinctive leap. 
 Together, at that cry accurst, 
 Had from their sheaths, like sunbeams, burst. 
 And hark ! — -again — again it rings ; 
 Near and more near its echoings 
 Peal through the chasm — oh ! who that then 
 Had seen those listening warrior-men. 
 With their swords grasp' d, their eyes of flame 
 Turn'd on their Chief — could doubt the shame, 
 Th' indignant shame, with which they thrill. 
 To hear those shouts, and yet stand still ? 
 
 He read their thoughts — they were his own — 
 
 " What ! while our arms can wield these blades. 
 Shall we die tamely ? die alone ? 
 
 Without one victim to our shades. 
 One* Moslem heart where, buried deep. 
 The sabre from its toil may sleep ? 
 No — God of Iran's burning skies ! 
 Thou scorn' st th' inglorious sacrifice. 
 No — though of all earth's hope bereft. 
 Life, swords, and vengeance still are left. 
 We '11 make yon valley's reeking caves 
 
 Live in the awe-struck minds of men. 
 Till tyrants shudder, when their slaves 
 
 Tell of the Ghebers' bloody glen. 
 Follow, brave hearts ! — this pile remains 
 Our refuge still from life and chains ; 
 But his the best, the holiest bed. 
 Who sinks entomb'd in Moslem dead !" 
 
LALLA ROOKH. 
 
 Down the precipitous rocks they sprung, 
 While vigour, more than human, strung 
 Each arm and heart. — Th' exulting foe 
 Still through the dark defiles below, 
 TrackM by his torches' lurid fire, 
 
 Wound slow, as through Golconda's vale * 
 The mighty serpent, in his ire. 
 
 Glides on with glittering, deadly trail. 
 No torch the Ghebers need — so well 
 They know each mystery of the dell. 
 
 So oft have, in their wanderings, 
 Cross'd the wild race that round them dwell. 
 The very tigers from their delves 
 
 Look out, and let them pass, as things 
 Untamed and fearless like themselves ! 
 
 There was a deep ravine, that lay 
 
 Yet darkling in the Moslem's way ; — 
 
 Fit spot to make invaders rue 
 
 The many fall'n before the few. 
 
 The torrents from that morning's sky 
 
 Had fill'd the narrow chasm breast-high. 
 
 And, on each side, aloft and wild. 
 
 Huge clift's and toppling crags were pil'd. 
 
 The guards, with which young Freedom lines 
 
 The pathways to her mountain shrines. 
 
 Here, at this pass, the scanty band 
 
 Of Iran's last avengers stand; — 
 
 Here wait, in silence like the dead. 
 
 And listen for the Moslem's tread 
 
 * Vitl'! I-Ioolc upon tlio Stoiy of Sinbad. 
 
THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 
 
 So anxiously, the carrion-bird 
 Above them flaps his wing unheard ! 
 
 They come — that plunge into the water 
 Gives signal for the work of slaughter. 
 NoWj Ghebers, now — if e'er your blades 
 Had point or prowess, prove them now !- 
 
LAI.I.A HOOKH. 
 
 Woe to the file that foremost wades ! 
 
 They come— a falchion greets each brow ; 
 And^ as they tumble, trunk on trunk, 
 Beneath the gory waters sunk. 
 Still o'er their drowning bodies press 
 New victims quick and numberless ; 
 Till scarce an arm in Hafed's band. 
 
 So fierce their toil, hath power to stir, 
 But listless from each crimson hand 
 
 The sword hangs, clogg'd with massacre. 
 Never was horde of tyrants met 
 With bloodier welcome — never yet 
 To patriot vengeance hath the sword 
 More terrible libations pour'd ! 
 All up the dreary, long ravine. 
 By the red, murky glimmer seen 
 Of half-qaench'd brands, that o'er the flood 
 Lie scattered round, and burn in blood. 
 What ruin glares ! what carnage swims ! 
 Heads, blazing turbans, quivering limbs. 
 Lost swords that, dropp'd from many a hand. 
 In that thick pool of slaughter stand ; — 
 Wretches who, wading, half on fire, 
 
 From the toss'd brands that round them fly, 
 'TwLKt flood and flame in shrieks expire ; — 
 
 And some who, grasp'd by those that die, 
 Sink woundless with them, smother' d o'er 
 In their dead brethren's gushing gore ! 
 
 But vainly hundreds, thousands bleed. 
 Still hundreds, thousands more succeed ; — 
 
I'HE FIKTS-WOKSHIPPEBS. 
 
 Countless, as tow'rds some flame at night 
 
 The north's dark insects wing their flight, 
 
 And quench, or perish in its hght — 
 
 To this terrific spot they pour, 
 
 Till, bridg'd with Moslem bodies o'er. 
 
 It bears aloft their sUppery tread. 
 
 And o^er the dying and the dead — 
 
 Tremendous causeway ! — on they pass. — 
 
 Then, hapless Ghebers, then, alas ! 
 
 What hope was left for you ? for you. 
 
 Whose yet warm pile of sacrifice 
 
 Is smoking in their vengeful eyes — 
 
 Wliose swords how keen, how fierce, they knew, 
 
 And burn with shame to find how few. 
 
 Crush'd down by that vast multitude. 
 
 Some found their graves where first they stood ; 
 
 While some with hardier struggle died, 
 
 And still fought on by Haped's side, 
 
 Who, fronting to the foe, trod back 
 
 Tow'rds the high towers his gory track ; 
 
 And, as a lion, swept away 
 
 By sudden swell of Jordan's pride 
 From the wild covert where he lay, * 
 
 Long battles with th' o'erwhelming tide. 
 So fought he back with fierce delay. 
 And kept both foes and fate at bay ! 
 
 But whither now ? their track is lost. 
 
 Their prey escap'd — guide, torches gone — 
 
 * "In this thicket upon the banks of the Jordan several sorts of wild beaBts are 
 wont to harbour themselves, whose being washed out of the covert by the overflowings 
 of the river gave occasion to that allusion of Jeremiah, * He shall come up like a lion 
 from the swelling of Jordan.' " — MauiidrelVn Aipppo. 
 
 221 
 
LALIA EOOKH. 
 
 By torrent-beds and labyrinths cross' d, 
 
 The scatter' d crowd rush blindly on ; — 
 " Curse on those tardy lights that wind," 
 They panting cry, " so far behind ! — 
 Oh, for a bloodhound's precious scent, 
 To track the way the Gheber went ! " 
 Vain wish ! — confusedly along 
 They rush, more desperate as more wrong ; 
 Till, 'wilder'd by the far-off lights. 
 Yet glittering up those gloomy heights. 
 Their footing, maz'd and lost, they miss, 
 And down the darkling precipice 
 Are dash'd into the deep abyss ; — 
 Or midway hang, impal'd on rocks, 
 A banquet, yet aUve, for flocks 
 Of ravening vultures, — while the dell 
 Re-echoes with each horrible yell. 
 
 Those sounds — the last, to vengeance dear, 
 That e'er shall ring in Hapbd's ear — 
 Now reach' d him, as aloft, alone. 
 Upon the steep way breathless thrown, 
 He lay beside his reeking blade, 
 
 Resign'd, as if life's task were o'er, 
 Its last blood-offering amply paid. 
 
 And Iran's self could claim no more. 
 One only thought, one lingering beam. 
 Now broke across his dizzy dream 
 Of pain and weariness — 'twas she, 
 
 His heart's pure planet, shining yet 
 Above the waste of memory. 
 
 When all life's other lights were set. 
 
 S22 
 
THE PIEE-WOKSHIPPKRS. 
 
 And never to his mind before 
 
 Her image such enchantment wore ; 
 
 It seem'd as if each thought that stain'd, 
 
 Each fear that chilPd, their loves was past^ 
 And not one cloud of earth remain'd 
 
 Between him and her glory cast ; — 
 As if to charmSj before so bright, 
 
 New grace from other worlds was given. 
 And his soul saw her by the light 
 
 Now breaking o'er itself from heaven ! 
 
 A voice spoke near him — 'twas the tone 
 
 Of a lov'd friend, the only one 
 
 Of all his warriors, left with hfe 
 
 From that short night's tremendous strife. — 
 
 "And must we then, my Chief, die hereV — 
 
 Foes round us, and the slirine so near ! " 
 
 These words have rous'd the last remains 
 
 Of life within him—" What ! not yet 
 Beyond the reach of Moslem chains !"— 
 
 The thought could make even Death forget 
 His icy bondage — ^with a bound 
 He springs, all bleeding, from the ground. 
 And grasps his comrade's arm, now grown 
 Ev'n feebler, heavier, than his own, 
 And up the painful pathway leads. 
 Death gaining on each step he treads. 
 Speed them, thou God, who heard' st their vow ! 
 They mount — they bleed — oh, save them now ! — 
 The crags are red they 've clamber'd o'er. 
 The rock -weed's dripping with their gore — 
 
lALLA KOOKH. 
 
 Thy blade, too, Hafed, false at length. 
 
 Now breaks beneath thy tottering strength ;- 
 
 Haste, haste — the voices of the foe 
 
 Come near and nearer from below — 
 
 One effort more — thank Heav'n ! 'tis past. 
 
 They 've gain'd the topmost steep at last. 
 
 And now they touch the temple's walls, 
 
 Now Hafed sees the fire divine — 
 When, lo ! his weak, worn comrade falls 
 
 Dead on the threshold of the shrine. 
 " Alas, brave soul, too quickly fled ! 
 
 And must I leave thee withering here. 
 The sport of every ruiSan's tread. 
 
 The mark for every coward's spear V 
 No, by yon altar's sacred beams !" 
 He cries, and, with a strength that seems 
 Not of this world, uplifts the frame 
 Of the fall'n chief, and tow'rds the flame 
 Bears him along ; — with death-damp hand 
 
 The corpse upon the pyre he lays. 
 Then Hghts the consecrated brand. 
 
 And fires the pile, whose sudden blaze 
 Like lightning bursts o'er Oman's Sea. — 
 " Now, Freedom's God ! I come to Thee," 
 The youth exclaims, and with a smile 
 Of triumph vaulting on the pile. 
 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. 
 
THE FIBE-W(mSHIPPERS. 
 
 That just has caught upon her side 
 
 The death-light — and again' is dark. 
 It is the boat — ah, why delay' d? — 
 That bears the wretched Moslem maid ; 
 Confided to the watchful care 
 
 Of a small veteran band, with whom 
 Their generous Chieftain would not share 
 
 The secret of his final doom ; 
 But hop'd when Hinda, safe and free, 
 
 Was render'd to her father's eyes. 
 Their pardon, full and prompt, would be 
 
 The ransom of so dear a prize. — 
 Unconscious, thus, of Haped's fate. 
 And proud to guard their beauteous freight. 
 Scarce had they clear'd the surfy waves 
 That foam around those frightful caves. 
 When the curst war-whoops, known so well. 
 Came echoing from the distant dell. — 
 Sudden each oar, upheld and still. 
 
 Hung dripping o'er the vessel's side, 
 And, driving at the current's will. 
 
 They rock'd along the whispering tide, 
 Wliile every eye, in mute dismay. 
 
 Was tow'rd that fatal mountain turn'd, 
 Wliere the dim altar's quivering ray 
 
 As yet all lone and tranquil burn'd. 
 
 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 
 
 225 
 
LALLA BOOKH. 
 
 As those who feel could paint too well, 
 But none e'er felt and Hv'd to tell ! 
 'Twas not alone the dreary state 
 Of a lorn spirit, crushed 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 congealed 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 brain — 
 That spasm of terror, mute, intense, 
 That breathless^ agoniz'd suspense, 
 Prom whose hot throb, whose deadly aching. 
 The heart hath no relief but breaking ! 
 
 Calm is the wave — heaven'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 
 The starlight o'er the waters thrown — 
 No joy but that to make her blest. 
 
 And the fresh, buoyant sense of being 
 That bounds in youth's yet careless breast, — 
 
THE FIRE-WOESHIPPEES. 
 
 Itself 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, 
 
 Ev^n 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 mast ; — 
 
 Too 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 Ught. 
 
 What bodes its solitary glare ? 
 In gasping silence tow'rd the shrine 
 All eyes are turn'd — thine, Hinda, thine 
 
 Fix their last faiUng life-beams 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 
 
 227 
 
LALJ.A ROOKH. 
 
 Reveal'd before the burning pyre, 
 Tall, shadowy, like a Spirit of Fire 
 
 Shrin'd in its own grand element ! 
 " 'Tis he \" the shuddering maid exclaims, — 
 
 But, while she speaks, he 's seen no more ; 
 High burst in air the funeral flames. 
 
 And Iran's hopes and hers are o'er ! 
 
 One wild, lieart-broken shriek she gave — 
 Then sprung, as if to reach that blaze. 
 Where still she fix'd her dying gaze, 
 iVnd, gazing, sunk into the wave, — 
 Deep, deep — where never care or pain 
 Shall reacli her innocent heart again ! 
 
THE PIRE-WOKSHIPPEKS. 
 
 Farewell — farewell to thee, Araby's daughter ! 
 
 (Thus warbled a Peri beneath the dark sea) — 
 No pearl ever lay, under Oman's green water, 
 
 More pure in its shell than thy spirit in thee. 
 
 Oh ! fair as the sea-flower close to thee growing. 
 How light was thy heart till love's witchery came. 
 
 Like the wind of the south* o'er a summer lute blowing. 
 And hush'd all its music, and wither'd its frame ! 
 
 But long, upon Araby's green sunny highlands. 
 Shall maids and their lovers remember the doom 
 
 Of her, who lies sleeping among the Pearl Islands, 
 With nought but the sea-star f to light up her tomb. 
 
 And still, when the merry date-season is burnirig. 
 
 And calls to the palm-groves the young and the old, | 
 
 The happiest there, from their pastime returning. 
 At sunset, will weep when thy story is told. 
 
 The young village maid, when with flowers she dresses 
 Her dark flowing hair for some festival day. 
 
 Will think of thy fate till, neglecting her tresses, 
 She mournfully turns from the mirror away. 
 
 * ** This wind (tke Samoor) so softens tlie strings of lutes, that they can never be 
 tuned while it lasts." — Stepliens'n Per^Hi. 
 
 t " One of the greatest curiosities found in the Persian Gulf is a fish which the 
 Enghsh call Star-fish. It is circular, and at night very lu mi nous, resembling the full 
 moon surrounded by rays." — Mwza Abii Taleb. 
 
 X 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, vuJr 
 Kempfer, Am'xniiaf. U'^of. 
 
 239 
 
LALLA ROOtCH. 
 
 Nor shall Iran, belov'd of her hero ! forget theSj 
 Though tyrants watch over her tears as they start ; 
 
 ClosBj close by the side of that hero she '11 set thee, 
 Embalm'd in the innermost shrine of her heart. 
 
 Farewell ! — be it ours to embellish thy pillow 
 
 With everything 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 
 That ever the sorrowing sea-bird has wept ; * 
 
 With many a shell, in whose hollow-wreath' d chamber 
 We, Peris of Ocean, by moonhght have slept. 
 
 We '11 dive where the gardens of coral he darkling, 
 And plant all the rosiest stems at thy head ; 
 
 We 'U seek where the sands of the Caspianf are 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 '11 weep for the Chieftain who died on that mountain. 
 They '11 weep for the- maiden who sleeps in this wave. 
 
 * Some naturaUsts have imagined that amber is a concretion of the tears of birds. — 
 Vide Tyevonx, Chamhers. 
 
 t " Tlie bay Kieselarke, which is otherwise called the Golden Bay, the sand whereof 
 shines as fire." — Struy. 
 
 230 
 
LiLLA ROOK [I. 
 
 The singular placidity with whicli Fadladeen had listened, 
 during the latter part of this obnoxious story, surprised the 
 Princess and Feeamorz exceedingly, and even inclined towards 
 him the hearts of these unsuspicious young persons, who little 
 knew the source of a complacency so marvellous. The truth 
 was, he had been organizing, for the last few days, a most 
 notable plan of persecution against the Poet, in consequence of 
 some passages that had fallen from him on the second evening 
 of recital, — which appeared to this worthy Chamberlain to 
 contain language and principles for which nothing short of the 
 summary criticism of the chabuk * would be advisable. It was 
 his intention, therefore, immediately on their arrival at Cash- 
 mere, to give information to the King of Bucharia of the very 
 dangerous sentiments of his minstrel ; and if, unfortunately, 
 that monarch did not act with suitable vigour on the occasion 
 (that is, if he did not give the chabuk to Feeamoez, and a place 
 to Fadladeen), there would be an end, he feared, of all legiti- 
 mate government in Bucharia. He could not help, however, 
 auguring better both for liimself and the cause of potentates 
 in general ; and it was the pleasure arising from these mingled 
 anticipations that difiPiised such unusual satisfaction through his 
 features, and made his eyes shine out, Uke poppies of the desert, 
 over the wide and lifeless wilderness of that countenance. 
 
 " " The application of whips or rode."— Xiuiut/f. 
 
 231 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 HaYing decided upon the Poet's diastisement in this manner, 
 he thought it but humanity to spare him the minor tortures 
 of criticism. Accordingly, when they assembled next evening 
 in the pavilion, and Lalla Rookh expected to see all the beauties 
 of her bard melt away, one by one, in the acidity of criticism, 
 like pearls in the cup of the Egyptian Queen, — he agreeably 
 disappointed her by merely saying, with an ironical smile, that 
 the merits of such a poem deserved to be tried at a much higher 
 tribunal ; and then suddenly passing off into a panegyric upon 
 all Mussulman sovereigns, more particularly his august and 
 imperial master, Aurungzebe, — the wisest and best of the de- 
 scendants of Timur, — who, among other great things he had 
 done for mankind, had given to him, Fadladeen, the very pi'o- 
 fitable posts of Betel-carrier and Taster of Sherbets to the 
 Emperor, Chief Holder of the Girdle of Beautiful Forms,* and 
 Grand Nazir, or Chamberlain of the Haram. 
 
 They were now not far from that Forbidden River, t beyond 
 which no pure Hindoo can pass ; and were reposing for a time 
 in the rich valley of Hussun Abdaul, which had always been a 
 favourite resting-place of the Emperors in their annual migra- 
 tions to Cashmere. Here often had the Light of the Faith, 
 Jehan-Guiro, wandered with his beloved and beautiful Nour- 
 mahal ; and here would Lalla Rookh have been happy to 
 remain for ever, giving up the throne of Bucharia and the 
 world, for Feramoez and love in this sweet lonely valley. The 
 time was now fast approaching when she must see him no 
 
 * Kempfer mentions such an officer among the attendants of the King of Persia, and 
 calls him "foi-mas corporis estimator." His business was, at stated periods, to measm"e 
 the ladies of the haram by a sort of regulation-girdle, whose Umits it was not thought 
 ^a'accful to exceed. If any of them outgrew this standard of shape, they were reduced 
 l-iy abstinence till they came within its bounds. 
 
 t TheAttock. 
 
l.ALI.A ROOICH. 
 
 longer, — or* see him witli 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 the journey, indeed, she had 
 
 sunk into a deep sadness, from which nothing but the presence 
 of the young minstrel could awake her. Like those lamps in 
 tombs, which only light up when the air is admitted, it was 
 only at his approach that her eyes became smiling and animated 
 
 •2SS 
 
LALLA ROOKH. 
 
 But here, in this dear valley, every moment was an age of plea- 
 sure ; she saw him all day, and was, therefore, all day happy, — 
 resembhng, she often thought, that people of Zinge, who attri- 
 bute the unfading cheerfulness they enjoy to one genial star 
 that rises nightly over their heads.* 
 
 The whole party, indeed, seemed in their liveliest mood during 
 the few days they passed in this delightful solitude. The young 
 attendants of the Princess, who were here allowed a freer range 
 than they could safely be indulged with in a less sequestered 
 place, ran wild among the gardens and bounded through the 
 meadows, lightly as young roes over the aromatic plains of 
 Tibet. WTiile Fadladeen, beside the spiritual comfort he derived 
 from a pilgriinage to the 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 Mussulmans 
 make it a point to kill ; — taking for gTanted, that the manner 
 in which the creature hangs its head is meant as a mimicry 
 of the attitude in which the faithful say their prayers ! 
 
 About two miles from Hussun Abdaul were those Royal 
 Gardens, which had grown beautiful under the care of so many 
 lovely eyes, and were beautiful still, though those eyes could 
 see them no longer. This place, with its flowers and its holy 
 silence, interrupted only by the dipping of the wings of birds 
 in its marble basins filled with the pure water of those hiUs, 
 was to Lalla Rookh all that her heart could fancy of fragrance, 
 coolness, and almost heavenly tranquilUty. As the Prophet said 
 of Damascus, " it was too delicious ;" — and here, in listening to 
 the sweet voice of Feeamoez, or reading in his eyes what yet he 
 
 * The star Solieil, or Canopus. 
 
LALLA ROOKH. 
 
 never dared to tell her, the most exquisite moments of her whole 
 life were passed. One evening, when they had been talking of 
 the Sultana Notirmahal, — the Light of the Haram,* who had 
 so often wandered among these flowers, and fed with her own 
 hands, in. those marble basins, the small shining fishes of which 
 she was so fond, t — the youth, in order to delay the moment of 
 separation, proposed to recite a short story, or rather rhapsody, 
 of which this adored Sultana was the heroine. It related, he 
 said, to the reconcilement of a sort of lovers' quarrel, which 
 took place between her and the Emperor during a Feast of 
 Roses at Cashmere ; and would remind the Princess of that 
 difference between Harouu-al-Raschid and his fair mistress 
 Marida, which was so happily made up by the soft strains of 
 the musician, Moussali. As the story was chiefly to be told in 
 song, and Feeamorz had unluckily forgotten his own lute in the 
 valley, he borrowed the vina of Lalla Rookh's little Persian 
 slave, and thus began : — 
 
 * Noui'malial signifies Light of the Haram. She waa afterwards called Nouijehan, 
 or the Light of the World. 
 t Vide note, p. 183. 
 
THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 
 
 Who has not heard of the Vale of Cashmere, 
 
 With its roses tlie brightest that eartli ever gave. 
 
 Its temples, and grottos, and fountains as clear 
 
 As the lovc-liglifced e\es that hang over theii' wuac ? 
 
THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 
 
 Oh ! to see it at sunset, — when warm o'er the Lake 
 
 Its splendour at parting a summer eve throws. 
 Like a bride, full of blushes, when ling'ring to take 
 
 A last look of her mirror at night, ere she goes ! — 
 When the shrines through the foHage are gleaming, half 
 
 shown, 
 And each hallows the hour by some rites of its own. — 
 Here the music of prayer from a minaret swells, 
 
 Here the Magian his urn full of perfume is swinging, 
 And here, at the altar, a zone of sweet bells 
 
 Round the waist of some fair Indian dancer is ringing.* 
 Or to see it by moonlight, — when meUowly shines 
 The hght o'er its palaces, gardens, and shrines ; 
 When the waterfalls gleam Uke a quick fall of stars. 
 And the nightingale's hymn from the Isle of Chenars 
 Is broken by laughs and Hght echoes of feet 
 From the cool, shining walks where the young people 
 
 meet. — 
 Or at mom, when the magic of dayhght awakes 
 A new wonder each minute, as slowly it breaks, — 
 Hills, cupolas, fountains, caU'd forth every one 
 Out of darkness, as they were just born of the sun. 
 When the Spirit of Fragrance is up with the day. 
 From his haram of night-flowers steahng away ; 
 And the wind, full of wantonness, woos Hke a lover 
 The young aspen-trees, f till they tremble all over. 
 When the Bast is as warm as the hght of first hopes, 
 
 And Day, with his banner of radiance unfurl' d, 
 
 * "Tied round her waist the zone of bellB, that sounded with ravishing melody."— 
 Song qf Jayadeva, 
 
 t " The Uttle isles in the Lake of Oaohemire are set with arbours and large-leaved 
 aspen-trees, slender and tail." — Bernier. 
 
 237 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 SHnes in through the mountainous portal * that opes 
 Sublime^ from that Valley of BUss to the world ! 
 
 But never yet, by night or day, 
 In dew of spring or summer's ray. 
 Did the sweet Valley shine so gay 
 As now it shines — aU love and light. 
 Visions by day, and feasts by night ! 
 A happier smile illumes each brow, 
 
 With quicker spread each heart uncloses. 
 And all is ecstasy, — -for now 
 
 The Valley holds its Feast of Roses, t 
 That joyous time, when pleasures pour 
 Profusely round, and in their shower 
 Hearts open, like the season's rose, — 
 
 The flowret of a hundred leaves, J 
 Expanding while the dew-fall flows. 
 
 And every leaf its balm receives ! 
 
 'Twas when the hour of evening came 
 
 Upon the Lake, serene and cool. 
 When Day had hid his sultry flame 
 
 Behind the palms of Baramoule. § — 
 When maids began to lift their heads. 
 Refresh' d, from their embroider'd beds. 
 Where they had slept the sun away. 
 And wak'd to moonhght and to play. 
 
 * " The Tuckt Suliman, the name bestowed by the Mahometans on this hill, forms 
 line side of a grand portal to the Lake." — Foi-ntcr. 
 
 t "The Feast of Roses continues the whole time of their remaining in bloom." — 
 
 i'u:lro de la TiiUe. 
 
 t "Gul sad berk, the Eose of a hundi-ed leaves. I believe a particular species." — 
 Oaaetei/. § Bernier. 
 
THE LIGHT OP THE HARAM. 
 
 All were abroad — the busiest hive 
 
 Of BeWs * hill is less alive 
 
 When saffron-beds are fall in flower, 
 
 Than looked the Valley in that hour. 
 
 A thousand restless torches play'd 
 
 Through every grove and island shade ; 
 
 A thousand sparkling lamps were set 
 
 On every dome and minaret ; 
 
 And fields and pathways^ far and near, 
 
 Were hghted by a blaze so clear. 
 
 That you could see^ in wandering round. 
 
 The smallest rose-leaf on the ground. 
 
 Yet did the maids and matrons leave 
 
 Their veils at home, that brilliant eve ; 
 
 And there were glancing eyes about, 
 
 And cheeks, that would not dare shine out 
 
 In open day, but thought they might 
 
 Look lovely then, because 'twas night ! 
 
 Ajid all were free, and wandering, 
 
 And all exclaim' d to all they met. 
 That never did the summer briag 
 
 So gay a Feast of Eoses yet ; — 
 The moon had never shed a Ught 
 
 So clear as that which bless'd them there ; 
 The roses ne'er shone half so bright. 
 
 Nor they themselves look'd half so fair. 
 
 And what a wilderness of flowers 1 
 
 It seem'd as though from all the bowers 
 
 * A place mentioned in the Toozek Jehangery, or Memoirs of Jehan-Guire, where 
 there is an accomit of the beds of saffron flowers about Cashmere. 
 
 239 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 And fairest fields of all the year, 
 The mingled spoil were scatter'd here. 
 The Lake^ too, like a garden breathes. 
 With the rich buds that o'er it lie, — 
 As if a shower of fairy wreaths 
 
 Had fall'n upon it from the sky ! 
 And then the sounds of joy, — the beat 
 Of tabors and of dancing feet ; — 
 The minaret-crier's chaunt of glee. 
 Sung from his lighted gallery, * 
 And answer' d by a ziraleet 
 From neighbouring haram, wild and sweet ; — 
 The merry laughter, echoing 
 Prom gardens, where the silken swing 
 Wafts some delighted girl above 
 The top leaves of the orange grove ; 
 Or, from those infant groups at play 
 Among the tents t that Hne the way. 
 Flinging, unaw'd by slave or mother, 
 Handfuls of roses at each other ! — 
 And the sounds from the Lake, — the low whisp'ring in 
 boats. 
 As they shoot through the moonlight, — the dipping of 
 oars. 
 And the wild, airy warbling that everywhere floats. 
 
 Through the groves, round the islands, as if all the 
 shores, 
 
 * '* It is the custom among the women to employ the Maazeen to chaimt from the 
 gallery of the nearest minaret, which on that occasion is illuminated, and the women 
 assembled at the house respond at intervals \vith a ziraleet or joyous chorua,"— Sussel. 
 
 t "At the keeping of the Feast of Roses we beheld an infinite number of tents 
 pitched, with such a crowd of men, women, boys and girls, with music, dances," &c. tfcc. 
 — Herhert. 
 
 240 
 
THE LIGHT OF THE HABAM. 
 
 Like those of Kathay, utter'd music, and gave 
 
 An answer in song to the kiss of each wave ! * 
 
 But the gentlest of all are those sounds, full of feelinp-, 
 
 That soft from the lute of some lover are stealing, — 
 
 Some lover, who knows all the heart-touching power 
 
 Of a lute and a sigh in this magical hour. 
 
 Oh ! best of delights, as it everywhere is. 
 
 To be near the lov'd one, — ^what rapture is his. 
 
 Who in moonlight and music thus sweetly may gUde 
 
 O'er the Lake of Cashmere, with that oiie by his side ! 
 
 If woman can make the worst wilderness dear, 
 
 Think, think what a heav'n she must make of Cashmere ! 
 
 So felt the magnificent Son of Acbar, f 
 
 When from power and pomp and the trophies of war 
 
 He flew to that Valley, forgetting them all 
 
 With the Light of the Haram, his young Nouemahat,. 
 
 AVhen free and uncrown'd as the conqueror rov'd 
 
 By the banks of that lake, with his only belov'd, 
 
 He saw, in the wreaths she would playfully snatch 
 
 From the hedges, a glory his crown could not matdi. 
 
 And preferr'd in his heart the least riuglet that curl'd 
 
 Down her exquisite neck to the throne of the world ! 
 
 There 's a beauty, for ever unchangingly bright. 
 Like the long, sunny lapse of a summer day's light. 
 
 * "An old commentator of the Chou-King says, the ancients having remarked thut 
 a current of water made some of the stones near its banks send forth a sound, they 
 detached some of them, and being charmed with the delightful sound they emitted, 
 constructed King or musical instruments of them." — Gronier. 
 
 t Jehan-Gruire was the son of the great Acbar. 
 
LAfjI, \ RdOKir. 
 
 (Shining on, shining on, by no shadow made tender, 
 
 Till Love falls asleep in its sameness of splendour. 
 
 This ira.'i not the beauty — oh ! nothing hke this. 
 
 That to young Nouemahal gave such magic of bliss; 
 
 But that lovehness, ever in motion, which plays 
 
 Like the light upon autumn's soft shadow;v' days. 
 
 Now here and now there, giving warmth as it flies. 
 
 From the lips to the cheek, from the cheek to the eyes. 
 
 Now melting in mist and now breaking in gleams. 
 
 Like the glimpses a saint hath of heav'n in his dreams ! 
 
 When pensive, it seem'd as if that very grace. 
 
 That charm of all others, was born with her face ; 
 
 And when angry — for ev'n in the tranquillest climes 
 
 Light breezes will ruffle the flowers sometimes — 
 
 The short, passing anger but seem'd to awaken 
 
 New beauty, like flow'rs that are sweetest when shaken. 
 
 If tenderness touch'd her, the dark of her eye 
 
 At once took a darker, a heav'nlier dye. 
 
 From the depth of whose shadow, like holy revealings 
 
 From innermost shrines, came the light of her feelings ! 
 
 Then her mirth — oh ! 'twas sportive as ever took wing 
 
 From the heart with a burst, like the wild bird in spring ;- 
 
 Illum'd by a wit that would fascinate sages. 
 
 Yet playful as Peris just loos'd from their cages.* 
 
 While her laugh, full of life, without any control 
 
 But the sweet one of gracefulness, rung from her soul ; 
 
 And where it most sparkled no glance could discover, 
 
 In lip, cheek, or eyes, for she brighten'd all over, — 
 
 * In the wars of the Dives with the Peris, whenever the former took the latter 
 prisoners, "they shnt them np in iron cages, and hung them on the highest trees. 
 Here they were visited by their companions, who brought them the choicest odours." — 
 Jtiditinli-'iii. 
 
 j4j 
 
THB LIGHT (IK THE HAI!AM. 
 
 Like any fair lake that the breeze is upon, 
 
 When it breaks into dimples and laughs in the sun. 
 
 Such, such were the peerless enchantments, that gave 
 
 NotiBMAHAL the proud Lord of the East for her slave ; 
 
 And though bright was his haram — a living parterre 
 
 Of the flow'rs* of this planet — though treasures were there, 
 
 For which Sohman's self might have giv'n all the store 
 
 That the navy from Ophir e'er wing'd to his shore. 
 
 Yet dim before her were the smiles of them all, 
 
 And the Light of his Haram was young Nookmahal ! 
 
 But where is she now, this night of joy, 
 
 When bliss is every heart's employ? — 
 
 When all around her is so bright. 
 
 So like the visions of a trance, 
 
 That one might think, who came by chance 
 
 Into the Vale this happy night. 
 
 He saw that City of Delight f 
 
 In Fairy-land, whose streets and towers 
 
 Are made of gems and Hght and flowers ! — 
 
 Where is the lov'd Sultana? where. 
 
 When mirth brings out the young and fail'. 
 
 Does she, the fairest, hide her brow. 
 
 In melancholy stillness now ? 
 
 Alas ! how light a cause may move 
 Dissension between hearts that love ! 
 Hearts that the world in vain had tried. 
 And sorrow but more closely tied ; 
 
 * In the Malay language the same word signifies women and iioweis. 
 t The capital of Shadiikiam. Vide note, p. V27. 
 
I.AM.A l;OOK[I. 
 
 That stood tlie storm, wheu waves were rough, 
 
 Yet in a sunny hour fall off, 
 
 Like ships, that have gone down at sea. 
 
 When heav'n was all tranquillity ! 
 
 A something, light as air — a look, 
 
 A word unkind, or wrongly taken — 
 Oh ! love, that tempests never shook, 
 
 A breath, a touch like this hath shaken. 
 And ruder words will soon rush in 
 To spread the breach that words begin ; 
 And eyes forget the gentle ray 
 They wore in courtship's smiling day ; 
 And voices lose the tone that shed 
 A tenderness round all they said ; 
 Till fast declining, one by one. 
 The sweetnesses of love are gone, 
 And hearts so lately mingled, seem 
 Like broken clouds, — or like the stream. 
 That smiling left the mountain's brow. 
 
 As though its waters ne'er could sever, 
 Yet, ere it reach the plain below. 
 
 Breaks into floods, that part for ever. 
 
 you, that have the charge of Love, 
 Keep him in rosy bondage bound. 
 
 As in the Fields of Bliss above 
 
 He sits, with flowrets fetter'd round ;* — 
 
 Loose not a tie that round him clings, 
 
 Ni ir ever let him use his wings ; 
 
 ■* See the representation of the Eastern Cupid, pinioned closely round with wreaths 
 ()[' flowers, in PicartV C'rr('mo7ii(?« /frlnfienses. 
 
THE LIGHT OF THE HAEAM. 
 
 For ev'n an hour, a minute's flight 
 Will rob the plumes of half their light. 
 Like that celestial bird, — whose nest 
 
 Is found beneath far Eastern skies, — 
 Whose wings, though radiant when at rest. 
 
 Lose all their glory when he flies ! * 
 
 Some difierence, of this dangerous kind, — 
 
 By which, though Hght, the links that bind 
 
 The fondest hearts may soon be riven ; 
 
 Some shadow in love's summer heaven. 
 
 Which, though a fleecy speck at first. 
 
 May yet in awful thunder burst ; — 
 
 Such cloud it is, that now hangs over 
 
 The heart of the imperial lover. 
 
 And far hath banish' d from his sight 
 
 His NouEMAHAL, his Haram's Light ! 
 
 Hence is it, on this happy night. 
 
 When Pleasure through the fields and groves 
 
 Has let loose all her world of loves. 
 
 And every heart has found its own, — 
 
 He wanders, joyless and alone, 
 
 And weary as that bird of Thrace, 
 
 Whose pinion knows no resting-place, t 
 
 In vain the loveHest cheeks and eyes 
 
 This Eden of the earth supplies 
 
 Come crowding round — the cheeks are pale, 
 
 * " Among the birds of Tonquin is a species of goldfincli, whicli sings so melodiously 
 that it is called the Celestiai Bird. Its wings, when it is perched, appear variegated 
 with beautiful colours, but when it flies they lose aJl their splendour."— Grosier. 
 
 t "As these birds on the Bosphorus are never known to rest, they are called by the 
 French 'les ames damn^es.' " — Dalloway. 
 
 245 
 
LAI.LA ROOKH. 
 
 The eyes are dim ; — though rich the spot 
 With every flower this earth has got^ 
 
 What is it to the nightingale, 
 If there his darling rose is not ? * 
 In vain the Valley's smiling throng 
 Worship him, as he moves along ; 
 He heeds them not — one smile of hers 
 Is worth a world of worshippers. 
 They but the star's adorers are. 
 She is the heaven that lights the star ! 
 
 Hence is it^ too, that Nouemahal, 
 Amid the luxuries of this hour. 
 Far from the joyous festival. 
 
 Sits in her own sequester'd bower. 
 With no one near, to soothe or aid. 
 But that inspir'd and wondrous maid, 
 Namouna, the Enchantress ; — one. 
 O'er whom his race the golden sun 
 For unremember'd years has run, 
 Yet never saw her blooming brow 
 Younger or fairer than 'tis now. 
 Nay, rather, as the west- wind's sigh 
 Freshens the flower it passes by, 
 Time's wing but seem'd, in steahng o'er. 
 To leave her lovelier than before. 
 Yet on her smile a sadness hung. 
 And when, as oft, she spoke or sung 
 
 * " You may place a hundred handfuls of fragrant herbs and flowers before the night- 
 ingale, yet he washes not, in his constant heart, foi' more than the sweet breath of his 
 beloved rose."— J'niii. 
 
 216 
 
THE LIGHT Ol' THE HAKAM. 
 
 Of other worlds, there came a light 
 From her dark eyes, so strangely bright, 
 That all believ'd nor man nor earth 
 Were conscious of Namotjna's birth ! 
 
 All spells and tahsmans she knew, 
 
 Prom the great Mantra,* which around 
 The Air's sublimer spirits drew. 
 
 To the gold gems t of Afric, bound 
 Upon the wandering Arab's arm. 
 To keep him from the Siltim's f harm. 
 And she had pledg'd her powerful art — 
 Pledg'd it with all the zeal and heart 
 Of one who knew, though high her sphere. 
 What 'twas to lose a love so dear — 
 To find some spell that should recall 
 Her Selim's § smile to Noukmahal ! 
 
 'Twas midnight — -through the lattice, wreath'd 
 
 With woodbine, many a perfume breath'd 
 
 From plants that wake when others sleep. 
 
 From timid jasmine-buds, that keep 
 
 Their odour to themselves all day. 
 
 But, when the sunlight dies away. 
 
 Let the delicious secret out 
 
 To every breeze that roams about ; — 
 
 * '* He is said to have found the great Mantra, spell or talisman, through which he 
 ruled over the elements and spirits of all denominations.'' — Wilford. 
 
 t The gold jewels of Jinnie, which are called by the Arabs El Herrez, from the sup- 
 posed charm they contain." — Jackmn. 
 
 J "A demon, supposed to haunt woods, &o., in a human shape."— Bic/tart/^ioj/. 
 
 § The name of Jehan-Guire before his accession to the throne. 
 
Wlien tlius Namouna : — " 'Tis the hour 
 That scatters spells on herb and flower. 
 And garlands might be gather'd now, 
 That, twin'd around the sleeper's brow. 
 
THE LIGHT OF THE HAEAM. 
 
 Would make him dream of such dehghts, 
 
 Such miracles and dazzling sights. 
 
 As Genii of the Sun behold, 
 
 At evening, from their tents of gold, 
 
 Upon th' horizon — where they play 
 
 Till twilight comes, and, ray by ray, 
 
 Their sunny mansions melt away ! 
 
 Now, too, a chaplet might be wreath' d. 
 
 Of buds o'er which the moon has breath' d. 
 
 Which worn by her, whose love has stray'd, 
 
 Might bring some Peri from the skies. 
 Some sprite, whose very soul is made 
 
 Of flowrets' breaths and lovers' sighs. 
 And who might tell " 
 
 " For me, for me ! " 
 Cried Noubmahal impatiently, — 
 '' Oh ! twine that wreath for me to-night." 
 Then rapidly, with foot as Ught 
 As the young musk-roe's, out she flew 
 To cull each shining leaf that grew 
 Beneath the moonlight's hallowing beams, 
 For this enchanted wreath of dreams. 
 Anemones and Seas of Gold,* 
 
 And new-blowm lilies of the river. 
 And those sweet flowrets, that unfold 
 
 Their buds on Camadeva's quiver ;t — 
 
 * " Hemasagara, or the Sea of Gold, with flowers of the brightest gold colour."— 
 Sir W. Jones, 
 
 + "This tree (the Nagacesara) is one of the most deUghtful on earth, and the 
 deUciouB odour of its blosBoms justly gives them a place in the quiver of Oamadeva, 
 or the God of Love." — Id. 
 
 I I 249 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 Tlie tube-rose, with her silvery light, 
 
 That in the gardens of Malay 
 Is call'd the Mistress of the Night, * 
 So like a bride, scented and bright. 
 
 She comes out when the sun 's away. — 
 Amaranths, such as crown the maids 
 That wander through Zamara's shades ; t" 
 And the white moon-flower, as it shows 
 On Serendib's high crags to those 
 WTio near the isle at evening sail, 
 Scenting her clove-trees in the gale ; — ■ 
 In short, all flowrets and all plants. 
 
 From the divine Amrita tree, J 
 That blesses heaven's inhabitants 
 
 With fruits of immortality, 
 Down to the basil § tuft, that waves 
 Its fragrant blossoms over graves. 
 
 And to the humble rosemary. 
 Whose sweets so thanklessly are shed 
 To scent the desert || and the dead, — 
 All in that garden bloom, and all 
 Are gather'd by young Nouemahal, 
 
 * '* The Malayans style the tube^rose (Poliantlies tuberosa) Sandal Malam, or the 
 Mistress of the Ni^hi."— Pennant. 
 
 + "The people of the Batta coimtry in Sumatra (of which Zamara is one of the 
 ancient names), "when not engaged in war, lead an idle, inactive life, passing the day 
 iii playing on a kind of flute, crowned with garlands of flowers, among which the globe- 
 amarauthus, a native of the countiy, mostly prevails." — Marsden. 
 
 X " The lai'gest and richest sort (of the Jambu, or rose-apple) is called Amrita, or 
 ImmortaJ ; and the mytholbgists of Tibet apply tiie same word to a celestial tree bearing 
 ambrosial fruit." — Slf W. Jones. 
 
 § Sweet basil, called Rayhan in Persia, and generally found in churchyai-ds. 
 
 II "In the Great Besert are found many stalks of lavender and rosemary." — 
 
 .hlal. Jl,'.^. 
 
THE LIGHT OP THE HARAM. 
 
 Who heaps her basket with the flowers 
 And leaves, till they can hold no more ; 
 
 Then to Namouna flies, and showers 
 Upon her lap the shining storQ-. 
 
 With what dehght th' Enchantress views 
 
 So many buds bathed with the dews 
 
 And beams of that bless'd hour ! — her glance 
 
 Spoke something, past all mortal pleasures. 
 As, in a kind of holy trance. 
 
 She hung above those fragrant treasures, 
 Bending to drink their balmy airs. 
 As if she mix'd her soul with theirs. 
 And 'twas, indeed, the perfume shed 
 From flowers and scented flame that fed 
 Her charmed life — for none had e'er 
 Beheld her taste of mortal fare, 
 Nor ever in aught earthly dip. 
 But the morn's dew, her roseate lip. 
 Pill'd with the cool, inspiring smell, 
 Th' Enchantress now begins her spell, 
 Thus singing, as she winds and weaves 
 In mystic form the glittering leaves : — 
 
 I know where the winged visions dwell. 
 
 That around the night-bed play ; 
 I know each herb and flowret's bell. 
 Where they hide their wings by day. 
 Then hasten we, maid. 
 To twine our braid. 
 To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. 
 
 351 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 The image of love, that nightly flies 
 
 To visit the bashful maid. 
 Steals from the jasmine flower, that sighs 
 
 Its soul, like her, in the shade. 
 The hope, in dreams, of a happier hour 
 
 That alights on misery's brow. 
 Springs out of the silvery almond-flower. 
 
 That blooms on a leafless bough. * 
 Then hasten we, maid. 
 To twine our braid, 
 To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. 
 
 The visions, that oft to worldly eyes 
 
 The glitter of mines unfold. 
 Inhabit the mountain-herb, f that dyes 
 
 The tooth of the fawn like gold. 
 The phantom shapes — oh, touch not them — 
 
 That appal the murderer's sight. 
 Lurk in the fleshly mandrake's stem. 
 
 That shrieks, when torn at night ! 
 Then hasten we, maid, 
 To twine our braid. 
 To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. 
 
 The dream of the injur'd, patient mind. 
 That smiles at the wrongs of men. 
 
 Is found in the bruis'd and wounded rind 
 Of the cinnamon, sweetest then ! 
 
 * " The almoncl-tree, with white flowers, blossoms on the bare branches." — 7/rf.s-- 
 
 t An herb on Mount Libanus, which is said to conununicatc a yellow golden line to 
 the teeth of the goats and other animals that gi-aze Tipon it, 
 
 252 
 
THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 
 
 Then hasten we, maid, 
 To twine our braid, 
 To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. 
 
 No sooner was the flowery crown 
 Plac'd on her head, than sleep came down, 
 Gently as nights of summer fall. 
 Upon the lids of Nourmahal ; — 
 
 253 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 And, suddenly, a tuneful breeze, 
 As full of small, rich harmonies 
 As ever wind, that o'er the tents 
 Of Azab * blew, was full of scents. 
 Steals on her ear, and floats and swells. 
 
 Like the first air of morning creeping 
 Into those wreathy. Red Sea shells. 
 
 Where Love himself, of old^ lay sleeping jf- 
 And now a Spirit form'd, 'twould seem. 
 
 Of music and of light, so fair. 
 So brilUantly his features beam. 
 
 And such a sound is in the air 
 Of sweetness, when he waves his wings. 
 Hovers around her, and thus sings : — 
 
 From Chindara's J warbling fount I come, 
 
 Call'd by that moonlight garland's spell ; 
 From Chindara's fount, my fairy home. 
 
 Where in music, morn and night, I dwell. 
 Where lutes in the air are heard about. 
 
 And voices are singing the whole day long, 
 And every sigh the heart breathes out 
 
 Is turn'd, as it leaves the lips, to song ! 
 Hither I come 
 From my fairy home. 
 
 And if there 's a magic in music's strain. 
 
 * The myrrh country. 
 
 t " This idea (of deities living in shells) was not unknown to the Greeks, who repre- 
 sent the young Nentes, one of the Cupids, as hying in shells on the shores of the Eed 
 
 eea:'—WilJbrJ. 
 
 t "A fabulous fovTntain, where instruments are said to he constantly playing." — 
 
 254 
 
THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 
 
 I swear by the breath 
 Of that moonlight wreath. 
 Thy lover shall sigh at thy feet again. 
 
 For mine is the lay that lightly floats. 
 
 And mine are the murmuring, dying notes, 
 
 That fall as soft as snow on the sea, 
 
 And melt in the heart as instantly ! 
 
 And the passionate strain that, deeply going, 
 
 Refines the bosom it trembles through. 
 As the musk-wind, over the water blowing 
 
 Ruffles the wave, but sweetens it too ! 
 
 Mine is the charm, whose mystic sway 
 The Spirits of past Delight obey ; — 
 Let but the tuneful taUsman sound. 
 And they come, like Genii, hovering round. 
 And mine is the gentle song, that bears 
 
 From soul to soul, the wishes of love. 
 As a bird, that wafts through genial airs 
 
 The cinnamon seed from grove to grove.* 
 
 'Tis I that mingle in one sweet measure 
 
 The past, the present, and future of pleasure ; 
 
 When Memory Unks the tone that is gone 
 
 With the blissful tone that 's still in the ear ; 
 And Hope from a heavenly note flies on 
 
 To a note more heavenly still that is near ! 
 
 * " The Pompadour pigeon is the species which, by carrying the friiit of the cinna- 
 mon to diiferent places, is a great disseminator of this valuable tree "—Brown's Illmtr., 
 tab. 19. 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 The warrior's heart, when touch'd by me, 
 
 Can as downy soft and yielding be 
 
 As his own white plume, that high amid death 
 
 Through the field has shone — yet moves with a breath. 
 
 And, oh, how the eyes of Beauty glisten, 
 
 When music has reach' d her inward soul. 
 Like the silent stars, that wink and listen 
 While heaven's eternal melodies roll ! 
 So hither I come 
 From my fairy home, 
 And if there 's a magic in music's strain, 
 I swear by the breath 
 Of that moonlight wreath, 
 Thy lover shall sigh at thy feet again. 
 
 'Tis dawn — at least that earlier dawn, 
 Wliose glimpses are again withdrawn,* 
 As if the morn had wak'd, and then 
 Shut close her lids of light again. 
 And NouEMAHAL is up, and trying 
 
 The wonders of her lute, whose strings — 
 bliss ! — now murmur like the sighing 
 
 Prom that ambrosial spirit's wings ! 
 And then, her voice — 'tis more than human- 
 
 Never till now had it been given 
 To lips of any mortal woman 
 
 To utter notes so fresh from heaven ; 
 
 * " They have two moruings, the Sooblii Kaaim, and the Soobhi Sadig, the false and 
 tlie real daybreak."— Wari/iij. 
 
THE LIOHT OF THE HARAM. 
 
 Sweet as the breath of angel sighs^ 
 
 When angel sighs are most divine. — 
 " Oh ! let it last till night," she cries, 
 
 " And he is more than ever mine." 
 And hourly she renews the lay, 
 
 So fearful lest its heavenly sweetness 
 Should, ere the evening, fade away. 
 
 For things so heavenly have such fleetness ! 
 But, far from fading, it but grows 
 Eicher, diviner, as it flows ; 
 Till rapt she dwells on every string. 
 
 And pours again each sound along. 
 Like Echo, lost and languishing. 
 
 In love with her own wondrous song. 
 
 That evening (trusting that his soul 
 
 Might be from haunting love released 
 By mirth, by music, and the bowl) 
 Th' Imperial Selim held a feast 
 In his magnificent Shalimar ; — 
 In whose saloons, when the first star 
 Of evening o'er the waters trembled. 
 The Valley's loveliest all assembled ; 
 All the bright creatures that, like dreams, 
 GHde through its foliage, and drink beams 
 Of beauty from its founts and streams.* 
 And all those wandering minstrel-maids, 
 Whio leave — how can they leave ? — the shades 
 
 * " The waters of Oacliemir are the more renowned from its being supposed that 
 the Oachemirians are indebted for their beauty to them." — Alt Yezdi. 
 
 257 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 Of that dear Valley^ and are found 
 
 iSinging in gardens of tlie south * 
 Those songs, that ne'er so sweetly sound 
 
 As from a young Cashmerian's mouth. 
 There, too, the haram's inmates smile ; — 
 
 Maids from the west, with sun-bright hair. 
 And from the Garden of the Nile, 
 
 Delicate as the roses there ;t — 
 Daughters of Love, from Cjrprus' rocks, 
 A^'ith Paphian diamonds in their locks ; J — 
 Light Peri forms, such as there are 
 On the gold meads of Candahar ; § 
 And they, before whose sleepy eyes, 
 
 Li their own bright Kathaiau bowers, 
 Sparkle such rainbow butterflies, || 
 
 That they might fancy the rich flowers. 
 That round them in the sun lay sighing. 
 Had been by magic all set flying ! 
 E\'erything young, everything fair 
 From east and west is blushing there. 
 
 * "X'Yom him 1 received the following little (Jazzel, or love-song, the notes of which 
 he coimnittcd to ijaper from the voice of one of thoso singing- girls of Cashmere, who 
 wander from that dehghtful valley over the various parts of India." — Fer^'hrn MhceUanieg. 
 
 t " The roses of the Jinan-Nile, or Garden of the Nile (attached to the Emperor of 
 Marocco's palace) are unequalled, and mattrasses are made of theii" leaves for the men of 
 rank to recline upon."— JaeA:so». 
 
 X " On the side of a mountsiin near Paphos there is a cavern which produces the most 
 beautiful rock crystal. On account of its briUiancy it has been called the Paphian 
 diamond." — Manli. 
 
 § " There is a pai-t of Candahar called Peria, or Pairy-Land." — Tlievenot. In some of 
 those countries to the north of India, vegetable gold is supposed to be produced. 
 
 II " These ai-e the butterlhes, which are called in the Chinese language Flying Leaves. 
 Some of them have such shining colours, and are so variegated, that they may be called 
 flying flowers; and indeed they are always produced in the finest flower-gai-dens."— 
 
 Dim, I. 
 
THB'LTOHT OP THB HARAM. 
 
 Except — except — Nourmahal ! 
 Thou loveliest, dearest of them all. 
 The one, whose smile shone out alone. 
 Amidst a world the only one ! 
 Whose Hght, among so many lights. 
 Was like that star, on starry nights, 
 The seaman singles from the sky. 
 To steer his bark for ever by ! 
 Thou wert not there — so Selim thought — 
 
 And everything seem'd drear without thee ; 
 But ah ! thou wert, thou wert — and brought 
 
 Thy charm of song all fresh about thee. 
 Mingling unnotic'd with a band 
 Of lutaniats from many a land. 
 And veil'd by such a mask as shades 
 The features of young Arab maids,* — 
 A mask that leaves but one eye free, 
 To do its best in witchery, — 
 She rov'd, with beating heart, around, 
 
 And waited, trembling, for the minute. 
 When she might try if still the sound 
 
 Of her lov'd lute had magic in it. 
 
 The board was spread with fruits and wine, 
 With grapes of gold, Uke those that shine 
 On Casbin's hills ;t — pomegranates full 
 Of melting sweetness, and the pears 
 
 » " The Arabian women wear black masks mth little clasps, picttily orderctl,' 
 Cirreri. Niebuhr mentions their showing but one eye in conversation, 
 t "The golden grapes of Casbin." — I)p:'cr>ption of Ti-r^'m. 
 
 259 
 
LALLA ROOKH. 
 
 And sunniest apples * that Caubul 
 
 In all its thousand gardens t bears. 
 Plantains, the golden and the green, 
 Malaya's nectar'd mangusteen ; J 
 Prunes of Bokara, and sweet nuts 
 
 From the far groves of Samarcand, 
 And Basra dates, and apricots, 
 
 Seed of the sun, § from Iran's land ; — 
 With rich conserve of Visna cherries, || 
 Of orange-flowers, and of those berries 
 That, wild and fresh, the young gazelles 
 Feed on in Erac's rocky dells. ^ 
 All these in richest vases smile, 
 
 In baskets of pure santal-wood. 
 And urns of porcelain from that isle ** 
 
 Sunk underneath the Indian flood, 
 Whence oft the lucky diver brings 
 Vases to grace the halls of kings. 
 Wines, too, of every clime and hue. 
 Around their liquid lustre thi-ew ; 
 
 * " The fruits exporbecl from Cn ubnl are apples, pears, pmnecrranatc-s, kc." — Etph'ni- 
 xtone. 
 
 t " We sat down under a tree, listened tn the birds, and talked with the son of our 
 Mehmaundar about our country and Caubul, of which he gave an enchanting account: 
 that city and its 100,000 gardens, &c." — Id, 
 
 i "The Mangusteen, the most delicate fntit in the world; the pride of the Malay 
 islands." — Marsdeti. 
 
 § " A delicious kmd of apricot, called by the Persians Tokm-ek-sliems, si,t;-mt>'tng the 
 sun's seed." — Description of Pirttn'. 
 
 II " Sweetmeats in a crystal cup, consisting of rose-leaves in conserve, with lemon or 
 Visna cherry, orange-iiowers, &c." — I?/is.te!. 
 
 1 "Antelopes cropping the fresh berries of Erac." — The Moalhikai, Poem of Tarafa. 
 
 ** Mauri-ga-Sima, an island near Formosa, supposed to have been sunk in the sea 
 for the crimes of its inhabitants. The vessels which the fishermen and divers bring up 
 from it are sold at an immense price in China and Japan.— Vide Xpmpfer. 
 
THE LIGHT OV THE I-IAKAM. 
 
 Amber Rosolli,* — the bright dew 
 
 From vineyards of the Green Sea gushi]i,o-;i- 
 
 And Shiraz wine, that richly ran, 
 
 As if that jewel, large and rare, 
 The ruby, for which Kublai-Khan 
 Offer'd a city's wealth, J was blushing 
 
 Melted within the goblets there ! 
 
 And amply Selim quaffs of eacli, 
 
 And seems resolv'd the floods shall reach 
 
 His inmost heart, — shedding around 
 
 A genial deluge, as they run, 
 That soon shall leave no spot undrown'd, 
 
 For Love to rest his wings upon. 
 He little knew how well the boy 
 
 Can float upon a goblet's streams. 
 Lighting them with his smile of joy ; — 
 
 As bards have seen him, in their dreams, 
 Down the blue Ganges laughing glide, 
 
 Upon a rosy lotus wreath, § 
 Catching new lustre from the tide 
 
 That with his image shone beneath. 
 
 But what are cups, without the aid 
 Of song to speed them as they flow ? 
 
 And see — a lovely Georgian maid. 
 
 With all the bloom, the freshened glow. 
 
 * Persian Tales. t The white wine of Kishma. 
 
 + "The lOng of Zeilan is said to have the very finest ruby that was ever seen. 
 Kublai-Idaii sent and offered the value of a city for it, but the King answered he would 
 not give it for the treasure of the world." — Marco Tola. 
 
 § The Indians feign that Cupid was first seen floating down the Ganges on the Nym- 
 phsea Nelumbo, — Vide Penuavt. 
 
 261 
 
Of her own country maidens' looks. 
 When warm they rise from Teflis' brooks ;* 
 And with an eye, whose restless ray, 
 
 Tull, floating, dark — oh ! he, who knows 
 His heart is weak, of Heav''n should pray 
 
 To guard him from such eyes as those ! — 
 
 * Teflis is celebrated for its natural warm baths.— Tii/c Eln Hnnhd. 
 2fi3 
 
THE LIGHT Of THE HAEAM. 
 
 With a voluptuous wildness flings 
 Her snowy hand across the strings 
 Of a syrinda,* and thus sings : — 
 
 Come hither^ come hither — by night and by day, 
 We linger in pleasures that never are gone ; 
 
 Like the waves of the summer, as one dies away. 
 Another as sweet and as shining comes on. 
 
 And the love that is o'er, in expiring, gives birth 
 To a new one as warm, as unequall'd in bliss ; 
 
 And oh ! if there be an Elysium on earth. 
 It is this, it is this. 
 
 Here maidens are sighing, and fragrant their sigh 
 As the flower of the Amra just op'd by a bee ;f 
 
 And precious their tears as that rain from the sky, J 
 Which turns into pearls as it falls in the sea. 
 
 Oh ! think what the kiss and the smile must be worth. 
 When the sigh and the tear are so perfect in bliss ; 
 
 Aiid own if there be an Elysium on earth. 
 It is this, it is this. 
 
 Here sparkles the nectar that, hallow'd by love. 
 
 Could draw down those angels of old from their sphere. 
 
 Who for wine of this earth § left the fountains above. 
 And forgot heaven's stars for the eyes we have here. 
 
 * ** The Indian syrinda or guitar." — Si/mes. 
 
 t " Delightful are the flowers of the Amra trees on the mountain-tops, while the 
 murmtiring bees pursue their voluptuous toil." — Song of Jmjadeva, 
 
 X " The Nisan, or drops of spring rain, which they beheve to produce pearls if they 
 fall into shells." — Richardson. 
 
 § For an account of the share which wine had in the faU of the angels, vide Murili. 
 
 263 
 
r,ALLA. UOOKH. 
 
 And, bless'd with the odour our goblet gives forth, 
 What spirit the sweets of his Eden would miss V 
 For oh ! if there be an Elysium on earth. 
 It is this, it is this. 
 
 The Georgian's song was scarcely mute. 
 
 When the same measure, sound for sound. 
 Was caught up by another lute. 
 
 And so divinely breath'd around. 
 That all stood hush'd and wondering. 
 
 And turned and look'd into the air, 
 A s if they thought to see the wing 
 
 Of Isratil,* the angel, there; 
 So powerfully on every soul 
 That new, enchanted measure stole. 
 While now a voice, sweet as the note 
 Of the charm'd lute, was heard to float 
 Along its chords, and so entwine 
 
 Its sounds with theirs, that none knew whether 
 The voice or lute was most divine, 
 
 So wondrously they went together : — 
 
 There's a bhss beyond all that the minstrel has told. 
 When two, that are link'd in one heavenly tie. 
 
 With heart never changing and brow never cold. 
 Love on through all ills, and lovo on till they die ! 
 
 One hour of a jDassion so sacred is worth 
 
 Whole ages of heartless and wandering bliss ; 
 
 And oh ! if there he an Elysium on earth, 
 It is this, it is this. 
 
 * The Angel of Music. — Vide note, p. 215. 
 
 ■;64 
 
THE LIGHT OF THE HAKA5I. 
 
 'Twas not the air, ■'twas not the words, 
 But that deep magic in the chords 
 And in the lips, that gave such power 
 As music knew not till that hour. 
 At once a hundred voices said, 
 " It is the mask'd Arabian maid !" 
 AVhile Sblim, who had felt the strain 
 Deepest of any, and had lain 
 Some minutes rapt, as in a trance. 
 
 After the fairy sounds were o'er, 
 Too inly touched for utterance. 
 
 Now motion' d with his hand for more : 
 
 Fly to the desert, fly with me ; 
 
 Our Arab tents are rude for thee, 
 
 But oh ! the choice what heart can doubt, 
 
 Of tents with love, or thrones without 'i 
 
 Our rocks are rough, but smiling there 
 Th' acacia waves her yellow hair. 
 Lonely and sweet, nor lov'd the less 
 For flowering in a wilderness. 
 
 Our sands are bare, but down their slope 
 The silvery -footed antelope 
 As gracefully and gaily springs 
 As o'er the marble courts of kings. 
 
 Then come — thy Arab maid will be 
 The lov'd and lone acacia- tree. 
 The antelope, whose feet shall bless 
 With their light sound thy loneliness. 
 
 :, L 265 
 
I>AL1,A ROOK II. 
 
 Oil ! there are looks and tones that dai't 
 An instant sunshine through the heart, — 
 As if the soul that minute caught 
 Some treasure it through life had sought ; — 
 
 As if the very lips and eyes 
 Predestin'd to have all our sighs^ 
 And never be forgot again, 
 Sparkled and spoke before us then ! 
 
 So came thy every glance and tone, 
 When first on me they breath' d and shone ; 
 New, as if brought from other spheres, 
 Yet welcome as if lov'd for years ! 
 
 Then fly with me, — if thou hast known 
 No other flame, nor falsely thrown 
 A gem away, that thou hadst sworn 
 Should ever in thy heart be worn. 
 
 Come, if the love thou hast for me 
 is pure and fresh as mine for thee, — 
 Fresh as the fountain under ground, 
 AV'hen first 'tis by the lapwing found. * 
 
 But if for me thou dost forsake 
 Some other maid, and rudely break 
 Her worsliipp'd image from its base, 
 Til give to me the ruin'd place ; — 
 
 ' The Hudhud, or Lapwiiig, is Buppo.sud to have the power of diseuvering wiiler 
 iLuder gi'omid. 
 
THK UGHT OP THE HABAM. 
 
 Then, fare thee well — I 'd rather make 
 My bower upon some icy lake 
 When thawing suns begin to shine, 
 Than trust to love so false as thine ! 
 
 There was a pathos in this lay. 
 
 That, ev'n without enchantment's art. 
 Would instantly have found its way 
 
 Deep into Selim's burning heart ; 
 But breathing, as it did, a tone 
 To earthly lutes and lips unknown ; 
 With every chord fresh from the touch 
 Of Music's spirit — 'twas too much ! 
 Starting, he dash'd away the cup, — 
 
 Which, all the time of this sweet air, 
 His hand had held, untasted, up. 
 
 As if 'twere fix'd by magic there, — 
 And naming her, so long unnam'd. 
 So long unseen, wildly exclaim'd, 
 
 " NOUEMAHAL ! NOUBMAHAL ! 
 
 Hadst thou but sung this witching strain, 
 I could forget — forgive thee all. 
 And never leave those eyes again." 
 
 The mask is off — the charm is wrought — 
 And Selim to his heart has caught, 
 In blushes, more than ever bright. 
 His NouBMAHAL, his Haram's Light ! 
 And well do vanish' d frowns enhance 
 The charm of every brighten'd glance ; 
 
 267 
 
LALLA ROOKH. 
 
 And dearer seems each dawning smile 
 For having lost its light awhile ; 
 And, happier now for all her sighs. 
 
 As on his arm her head reposes. 
 She whispers him, with laughing eyes, 
 
 " Remember, love, the Feast of Roses I ''' 
 
LAT.LA hOOKH. 
 
 Padladeen, at the conclusion of this light rhapsody, took 
 occasion to sum up his opinion of the young Cashmerian's 
 poetry, — of which, he trusted, they had that evening heard the 
 last. Having recapitulated the epithets, " frivolous," — " inhar- 
 monious," — " nonsensical," he proceeded to say that, viewing it 
 in the most favourable light, it resembled one of those Maldivian 
 boats, to which the Princess had alluded in the relation of her 
 dream,* — a slight, gilded thing, sent adrift without rudder or 
 ballast, and with nothing but vapid sweets and faded flowers 
 on board. The profusion, indeed, of flowers and birds, which 
 this Poet had ready on all occasions — not to mention dews, 
 gems, &c. — was a most oppressive kind of opulence to his 
 hearers, and had the unlucky effect of giving to his style all 
 the glitter of the flower-garden without its method, and all the 
 flutter of the aviary without its song. In addition to this, he 
 chose his subjects badly, and was always most inspired by the 
 worst parts of them. The charms of paganism, the merits of 
 rebellion, — these were the themes honoured with his particular 
 enthusiasm ; and, in the poem just recited, one of his most 
 palatable passages was in praise of that beverage of the un- 
 faithful, wine ; " being, perhaps," said he, relaxing into a smile, 
 as conscious of his own character in the haram on this point, 
 " one of those bards, whose fancy owes all its illumination to 
 
 * T'if!e page 179. 
 
 V:'! 
 
LA LI, A BOOK II. 
 
 the grape, like that painted porcelain, so curious and so rare, 
 whose images are only visible when liquor is poured into it." 
 Upon the whole it was his opinion, from the specimens which 
 they had heard, and which, he begged to say, were the most 
 tiresome part of the journey, that — whatever other merits this 
 well-dressed young gentleman might possess — poetry was by 
 no means his proper avocation ; " and indeed," concluded the 
 critic, " from his fondness for flowers and for birds, I would 
 venture to suggest that a florist or a bird-catcher is a much 
 more suitable calling for him than a poet." 
 
 They had now begun to ascend those barren mountains, which 
 separate Cashmere from the rest of India ; and, as the heats were 
 intolerable, and the time of tbeir encampments limited to the few 
 hours necessary for refreshment and repose, there was an end 
 to all their delightful evenings, and Lalla Rookh saw no more 
 of Peeamoez. She now felt that her short dream of happiness 
 was over, and that she had nothing but the recollection of its 
 few blissful hours — like the one draught of sweet water that 
 serves the camel across the wilderness — to be her heart's 
 refreshment during the weary waste of life that was before her. 
 The blight that had fallen upon her spirits soon found its way 
 to her cheek ; and her ladies saw with regret — though not 
 without some suspicion of the cause — that the beauty of their 
 mistress, of which they were almost as proud as of their own, 
 was fast vanishing away at the very moment of all when she 
 had most need of it. What must the King of Bucharia feel, 
 when, instead of the lively and beautiful Lalla Rookh, whom 
 the poets of Delhi had described as niore perfect than the 
 divinest images in the House of Azor, he should receive a pale 
 and inanimate victim, upon wliose cheek neither health nor 
 
I,AL1,A ROOKH. 
 
 pleasure bloomed, and from whose eyes Love had fled, — to hide 
 himself in her heart ! 
 
 If anything could have charmed away the melancholy of her 
 spirits, it would have been the fresh airs and enchanting 
 scenery of that Valley, which the Persians so justly called the 
 Unequalled.* But neither the coolness of its atmosphere, so 
 luxurious after toiling up those bare and burning mountains — 
 neither the splendour of the minarets and pagodas, that shone 
 out from the depths of its woods, nor the grottos, hermitages, 
 and miraculous fountains, which make every spot of that region 
 holy ground; — neither the countless waterfalls that rush into 
 the Valley from all those high and romantic mountains that 
 encircle it, nor the fair city on the Lake, whose houses, roofed 
 with flowers, appeared at a distance like one vast and variegated 
 parterre ; — not all these wonders and glories of the most lovely 
 country under the sun could steal her heart for a minute from 
 those sad thoughts, which but darkened and grew bitterer every 
 step she advanced. 
 
 The gay pomps and processions that met her upon her entrance 
 into the Valley, and the magnificence with which the roads all 
 along were decorated, did honour to the taste and gallantry of 
 the young King. It was night when they approached the city, 
 and for the last two miles they had passed under arches thrown 
 from hedge to hedge, festooned with only those rarest roses 
 from which the Attar Gul, more precious than gold, is distilled, 
 and illuminated in rich and fanciful forms with lanterns of the 
 triple-coloured tortoise-shell of Pegu. Sometimes, from a dark 
 wood by the side of the road, a display of fireworks would break 
 out, so sudden and so brilliant, that a Bramin might think he 
 
 * " Kachmire be Nazeer." — Fornter. 
 
 371 
 
LALLA KOOKH. 
 
 saw ihat grove, in whose puiple shade the God of Battles was 
 born, bursting into a flame at the moment of his birth. While, 
 at other times, a quick and playful irradiation continued to 
 brighten all the fields and gardens by which they passed, forming 
 a line of dancing lights along the horizon ; lilie the meteors of 
 the north, as they are seen by those hunters, who pursue the 
 white and blue foxes on the confines of the Icy Sea. 
 
 These arches and fireworks delighted the ladies of the Princess 
 exceedingly ; and, with their usual good logic, they deduced from 
 his taste for illuminations, that the King of Bucharia would make 
 the most exemplary husband imaginable. Nor, indeed, could 
 Lalla Rookh herself help feeling the kindness and splendour 
 with which the young bridegroom welcomed her ; — but she also 
 felt how painful is the gratitude which kindness from those we 
 cannot love excites ; and that their best blandishments come over 
 t)ie heart with all that chilling and deadly sweetness, which we 
 can fancy in the cold, odoriferous wind that is to blow over this 
 earth in the last days. 
 
 The marriage was fixed for the morning after her arrival, 
 when she was, for the first time, to be presented to the monarch 
 in that imperial palace beyond the Lake, called the Shalimar. 
 Though a night of more wakeful and anxious thought had never 
 been passed in the Happy Valley before, yet, when she rose in 
 the morning, and her ladies came round her, to assist in the 
 adjustment of the bridal ornaments, they thought they had 
 never seen her look half so beautiful. Wlat she had lost of 
 the bloom and radiancy of her charms was more than made 
 up by that intellectual expression, that soul in the eyes, which 
 is worth all the rest of loveliness. Wlien they had tinged her 
 fingers with the henna leaf, and placed upon her brow a small 
 
LALIA ROOKrr. 
 
 coronet of jewels, of the shape worn by the ancient Queens of 
 Bucharia, they flung over her head the rose-cobnred bridal veil, 
 and she proceeded to the barge that was to convey her across 
 the Lake ; — first kissing, with a mournful look, the little amulet of 
 cornelian which her father had hung about her neck at parting. 
 
 The morning was as fair as the maid upon whose nuptials it 
 rose ; and the shining Lake, all covered with boats, the minstrels 
 playing upon the shores of the islands, and the crowded summer- 
 hous3S on the green hills around, with shawls and banners 
 waving from their roofs, presented such a picture of animated 
 rejoicing, as only she, who was the object of it all, did not 
 feel with transport. To Lalla Rookh alone it was a melancholy 
 pageant ; nor could she have even borne to look upon the scene, 
 were it not for a hope that, among the crowds around, she might 
 once more perhaps catch a glimpse of Peramoez. So much was 
 her imagination haunted by this thought, that there was scarcely 
 an islet or boat she passed, at which her heart did not flutter 
 with a momentary fancy that he was there. Happy, in her eyes, 
 the humblest slave upon whom the light of his dear looks fell ! 
 Li the barge immediately after the Princess was Fadladeen, 
 with his silken curtains thrown widely apart, that all might 
 have the benefit of his august presence, and with his head fuU 
 of the speech he was to deliver to the King, " concerning 
 Feeamoez, and literature, and the chabuk, as connected there- 
 with." 
 
 They had now entered the canal which leads from the Lake to 
 the splendid domes and saloons of the Shahmar, and glided on 
 through gardens ascending from, each bank, full of flowering 
 shrubs that made the air all perfume ; while from the middle of 
 the canal rose jets of water, smooth and unbroken, to such a 
 
 M M 273 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 dazzling height, that they stood like pillars of diamond in the 
 snnshine. After sailing under the arches of various saloons, 
 they at length arrived at the last and most magnificent, where 
 the monarch awaited the coming of his bride ; and such was 
 the agitation of her heart and frame, that it was with diiEculty 
 she walked up the marble steps, which were covered with cloth 
 of gold for her ascent from the barge. At the end of the hall 
 
LALLA ROOKH. 
 
 stood two throues, as precious as the Cerulean Throne of Kool- 
 burga, on one of which sat Alieis, the youthful King of 
 Bucharia, and on the other was, in a few minutes, to be 
 placed the most beautiful Princess in the world. Immediately 
 upon the entrance of Lalla Rookh into the saloon, the monarch 
 descended from his throne to meet her ; but scarcely had he 
 time to take her hand in his, when she screaraed with surprise, 
 and fainted at his feet. It was Feeamobz himself that stood 
 before her! — Feeamorz was himself the Sovereign of Bucharia, 
 who in this disguise had accompanied his young bride from 
 Delhi, and, having won her love as an humble minstrel, now 
 amply deserved to enjoy it as a king. 
 
 The consternation of Fadladeen at this discovery was, for the 
 moment, almost pitiable. But change of opinion is a resource 
 too convenient in courts for this experienced courtier not to have 
 learned to avail himself of it. His criticisms were all, of course, 
 recanted instantly ; he was seized with an admiration of the 
 King's verses, as unbounded as, he begged him to believe, it was 
 disinterested : and the following week saw him in possession of 
 an additional place, swearing by all the saints of Islam that 
 never had there existed so great a poet as the monarch Alieis, 
 and ready to prescribe his favourite regimen of the chabuk for 
 every man, woman, and child, that dared to think otherwise. 
 
 Of the happiness of the King and Queen of Bucharia, after 
 such a beginning, there can be but little doubt; and, among 
 lesser symptoms, it is recorded of Lalla Rookh, that, to the day 
 of her death, in memory of their delightful journey, she never 
 called the King by any other name than Feeamoez. 
 
 375 
 
NOTES. 
 
 Page 1. 
 TutsE particulars of the visit of the King of Buehaiia to Aurungzeljc are 
 found in JJun-'s History of Hindustan, vol iii., p. 392. 
 
 Leila.— V. 1. 
 The mistress of Mejnoun, upon whose story bo many romances, in all the 
 languages of the East, are founded. 
 
 8h irine. — P. 1 - 
 For the loves of this celebrated beauty with Khosrou and with Ferhad, ci Jf 
 V'Herbelot, Gibbon, Oriental Collections, &c. 
 
 DewihU.—P. 1. 
 " The history of the loves of Dewilde and Chizer, the son of the Emperor 
 Alia, is written in an elegant poem, by the noble Chusero." — Ferishta. 
 
 Those in^signia of the Emperor s favour, &c. — P. 2. 
 
 " One mark of honour or knighthood bestowed by the Emperor is the per- 
 mission to wear a small kettle-drum at the bows of their saddles, which at fu'st 
 was invented for the training of hawks, and to call them to the lure, and is 
 worn in the field by all sportsmen to that end." — Fryer's Travels. 
 
 " Those on whom the King has conferred the privilege must wear an orna- 
 ment of jewels on the right side of the turban, surmounted by a high plume of 
 the feathers of a kind of egret. This bird is found only in Cashmeer, and the 
 feathers are careiuUy collected for the King, who bestows them on his nobles.'' 
 — Elphdnstone' s Accownt of Oaubul. 
 
 W 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 Kedvr Khan, &c. — P. 2. 
 
 " Keder Khan, the Khakan, or King, of Turquestan beyond the Gihon (at 
 the end of the eleventh century), whenever he appeared abroad, was preceded 
 by seven hundred horsemen with silver battle-axes, and was followed by an 
 equal number bearing maces of gold. He was a great patron of poetry, and 
 it was he who used to preside at pubHc exercises of genius, with four basins 
 of gold and silver by him, to distribute among the poets who excelled." — 
 Uichardson^s Dissertation, prefixed to his Dictionary. 
 
 The gilt 'pine-ajyples, &c. — P. 2. 
 
 " The kubdeh, a large golden knob, generally in the shape of a pine-apple, 
 on the top of the canopy over the litter or palanquin." — Scotfs Notes on the 
 Bahardanush. 
 
 T}ie rose-culowed veils of the Fmicess's Utter. — P. 2. 
 
 In the poem of Zohair, in the MoaUakat, there is the following hvely de- 
 scription of " a company of maidens seated on camels :" — 
 
 " They are mounted in carriages covered with costly awnings, and with 
 rose-coloured veils, the linings of which have the hue of crimson Andem-wood. 
 
 " When they ascend from the bosom of the vale, they sit forward on the 
 saddle-cloths, with every mark of a voluptuous gaiety. 
 
 " Now, when they have reached the brink of yon blue gushing rivulet, they 
 fix the poles of their tents like the Arab with a settled mansion." 
 
 A yovmg female slave sat fanning her, &o. — P. 3. 
 
 See Bernier's description of the attendants on Rauchanara-Begum in her 
 progress to Cashmere. 
 
 Religion, of which Aurungzehe was a munificent protector. — P. 4. 
 
 This hypocritical Emperor would have made a worthy associate of certain 
 Holy Leagues. " He held the cloak of reUgion (says Dow) between his actions 
 and the vulgar ; and impiously thanked the Divinity for a success which he 
 owed to his own wickedness. When he was murdering and persecuting his 
 brothers and their families, he was building a magnificent mosque at Delhi, 
 as an offering to God for his assistance to him in the civil wars. He acted as 
 high-priest at the consecration of this temple ; and made a practice of attend- 
 ing divine service there, in the humble dress of a Fakeer. But when he lifted 
 one hand to the Divinity, he, with the other, signed wai-rants for the assassi- 
 nation of his relations." — History of Uindnstan, vol. iii., p. 335. See also the 
 curious letter of Aurungzebe, given in the Oriental Collections, vol. i., p. 320. 
 
 376 
 
NOTES. 
 
 The cUamond eyes of the idol, &o. — P. 4. 
 
 " The idol at Jaghemat hag two fine diamonds for eyes. No goldsmith ia 
 suffered to enter the pagoda, one having stole one of these eyes, being locked 
 np all night with the idol." — Tavemier. 
 
 Gardens of Delhi. — P. 4, 
 
 See a description of these royal gardens in " An Account of the Present 
 State of Delhi, by Lieut. W. Frankliri." — Asiat. Besearch., vol. iv., p. 417. 
 
 Lalee of Pearl. — P. 4. 
 
 " In the neighbourhood ia Notte GiU, or the Lake of Pearl, which receives 
 tliis name from its peUnoid water." — Permcmfs Hindostan. 
 
 " Nasir Jung encamped in the vicinity of the Lake of Tonoor, amijsed him- 
 self with sailing on that clear and beautiful water, and gave it the fanciful 
 name of Motee Talab, ' the Lake of Pearls,' which it still retains." — Wilks's 
 South of India. 
 
 Deserihed by one from the Isles of the West, &c. — P. 4. 
 Sir Thomas Roe, ambassador from James I. to Jehan-Guire. 
 
 Loves of M'amalc and Emra. — P. 5. 
 
 " The romance Wemakweazra, written in Persian verse, which contains the 
 loves of Wamak and Ezra, two celebrated lovers who lived before the time of 
 Mahomet." — Notes on the Oriental Tales. 
 
 Of the fair-haired Zal and his mistress Rodahver. — P. 5. 
 
 Their amour is recounted in the Shah-Nameh of Perdousi ; and there is 
 much beauty in the passage which describes the slaves of Rodahver, sitting 
 on the bank of the river and throwing flowers into the stream, in order to 
 draw the attention of the young hero who is encamped on the opposite side. — 
 Vide Champion's Tfcmslation. 
 
 The combat of Bustam with the terrible White Demon. — P. 5. 
 
 Rustam is the Hercules of the Persians. For the particulars of his victory 
 over the Sepeed Deeve, vide Oriental Collections, vol. il., p. 45. Near the city 
 of Shii-auz is an immense quadrangular monument, in commemoration of this 
 combat, called the Kelaat-i-Deev Sepeed, or Castle of the White Giant, which 
 Father Angelo, in his Gazophylacium Persioum, p. 127, declares to have been 
 the most memorable monument of antiquity which he had seen in Persia. — 
 Vide Ouseley's Persian Miscellanies. 
 
 279 
 
LALLA ROOKH. 
 
 Their golden cmklets. — P. 5. 
 
 " The women of the Idol, or dancing-gjrla of the Pagoda, have little golden 
 bells fastened to their feet, the soft, harmonious tinlding of which vibrates in 
 unison with the exquisite melody of their voices." — Maurice's Indian Anti- 
 quities. 
 
 " The Arabian courtesans, Kke the Indian women, have httle golden bells 
 fastened round their legs, neck, and elbows, to the sound of which they dance 
 before the King. The Arabian Princesses wear golden rings on their fingers, 
 to which Uttle bells are suspended, as well as in the flowing tresses of their 
 hair, that their superior rank may be known, and they themselves receive in 
 passing the homage due to them." — Oalmefs Dictionary, art. Bells. 
 
 That delicious opiiuii, &c. — P. 5. 
 
 " Abou-Tige, ville de la Thebaide, on il croit beaucoup de pavot noir, dont 
 se fait le meUleur opium." — D'Uerbelot. 
 
 That idol of women, Chrishna. — P. 6. 
 
 " He and the three Ramag are described as youths of perfect beavity ; 
 and the Princesses of Hindustan were all passionately in love with Chrishna, 
 who continues to this hour the darhng god of the Indian women." — Sir IF. 
 
 Jones, on the Gods of Chreece, ItaVy, ai^d India. 
 
 The shawl-goat of Tibet— 7. 7. 
 
 See Turner's Embassy for a description of this animal, "the most beautiful 
 among the whole tribe of goats." The material for the shawls (which is 
 carried to Cashmere) is found next the skin. 
 
 The Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. — P. 7. 
 
 For the real histoiy of this impostor, whose original name was Hakem ben 
 Haschem, and who was called Mokanna from the veil of silver gauze (or, as 
 others say, golden) which he always wore, vide D'Herbelot. 
 
 Flowrtts and fruits blush orer every stream. — P. 9. 
 
 " The fruits of Meru are finer than those of any other place ; and one 
 cannot see in any other city such palaces, with groves, and strcanis, and 
 gardens." — Bbn Ha\il;aVs Geography. 
 
 For, far less luniinous, his votaries said, &c. — P. 10. 
 
 " Ses disciples assuroient qu'il se couvroit le visage, pour no pas eblouir 
 ceux qui I'approchoit par I'eclat de son visage, comme Moyse." — D'Herbelot. 
 
NOT lis. 
 
 In hatred to the Caliph^s hue uf night. — P. 10. 
 " II fiiut remarqner ici toaohant les habits blancs dea disciples de Hakem, 
 que la ooulenr des habits, des cbeffures et des etendarts des Khalifes Abas- 
 sides etant la noire, ce chef de rebelles ne pouvoit pas choisir mie, qui lui fdt 
 plus opposee." — D'Herholot. 
 
 Javelins of the light Katliain reed. — P. 10. 
 
 " Our dai'k javelins, exquisitely wrough of Khathaian reeds, slender and 
 dehoate." — Poem of Amm. 
 
 FilVd 'with the stems that hloom on Iran's rivers. — P. 10. 
 
 The Persians call this plant Gaz. The celebrated shaft of Isfendiar, one of 
 their ancient heroes, was made of it. " Nothing can be more beautiftil than 
 the appearance of this plant in flower during the rains on the hanks of rivers, 
 where it is usually interwoven with a lovely twining asclepias." — Sir W. Jones, 
 Botanical Observations on Select Indian Plants. 
 
 Like a chenar-tree grove — P. 11. 
 
 The Oriental plane. " The ohenar is a delightful tree ; its bole is of a fine 
 white and smooth bark, and its foliage, which grows in a tuft at the summit, 
 is of a bright green." — Morier's Travels. 
 
 With tv/rban'd heads of every hue and race. 
 Bowing before that veil'd and auful face. 
 Like tuli-jj-beds. — P. 12. 
 
 " The name of the tuKp is said to be of T\irkish extraction, and given to 
 the flower on account of its resembling a turban." — Beckinann's History of 
 Inventions. 
 
 With belt of broider'd crape. 
 And fwr-hownd bonnet ofBuchanam, shape. — P. 12. 
 " The inhabitants of Buoharia wear a round cloth bonnet, shaped much 
 after the Polish fashion, having a large fur border. They tie their kaftans 
 about the middle with a girdle of a kind of silk crape, several times round the 
 body." — Accownt of Independent Ta/rtary, in Pinkerton's Collection. 
 
 Wav'd, like the wings of the white birds that fan 
 The flying throne of sta/r-taught Soliman. — P. 11. 
 This wonderful throne was called the Star of the Genii. For a fall descrip- 
 tion of it, see the Fragment, translated by Captain Franklin, from a Persian 
 MS. entitled " The History of Jerusalem."— OWentoJ Collections, vol. i., p. 235. 
 When Solomon travelled, the Eastern writers say, " he had a carpet of green 
 
 N N ■»! 
 
LALLA ROOKH. 
 
 silk on which his throne was placed, being of a prodigious length and breadth, 
 and sufficient for all his forces to stand upon, the men placing themselves on 
 his right hand, and the spirits on his left ; and that when all were in order, 
 the wind, at his command, took up the carpet, and transported it, with all 
 that were upon It, whereyer he pleased ; the army of birds at the same time 
 flying over their heads, and forming a kind of canopy to shade them from 
 the sun." — Sale's Koran, vol. ii., p. 214, note. 
 
 . and, thence descending, flow' dj 
 Through many a Propliefs hreast. — P. 14. 
 
 This is according to D'Herbelot's account of the doctrines of Mokanna : — 
 " Sa doctrine etoit que Dieu avoit pris une forme et figure humaine depuis 
 qu'il eut commande axix Anges d'adorer Adam, le premier des hommes. 
 Qu'aprfes la mort d'Adam, Dieu etoit apparu sous la figure de plusieurs 
 Pi'ophfetes, et aiitres grands hommes qu'il avoit choisis, jusqu'k ce qu'il prit 
 ceUe d'Abu Moslem, Prince de Khorassan, lequel professoit I'erreur de la 
 Tenassukhiah ou Metempsychose ; et qu'apr^s la mort de ce Prince, la 
 Diviiiite etoit passee, et desoendue en sa personne.'' 
 
 Such gods as he 
 niwm India serves, the monkey deity.- — P. 29. 
 
 "' Apes are in many parts of India highly venerated, out of respect to the 
 god Hannaman, a deity partaking of the form of that race." — Pennant's 
 Sindostwn. 
 
 See a curious account, in Stephen's Persia, of a solemn embassy from some 
 part of the Indies to Goa, when the Portuguese were there, offering vast 
 treasures for the recovery of a monkey's tooth, which they held in great 
 veneration, and which had been taken away upon the conquest of the king- 
 dom of Jafanapatan. 
 
 . 2^'^oud things of clay, 
 To whom if Lucifer, as grandams say, 
 Prfiis'd, thought at the forfeit of heaven's light. 
 To lend in wurship, Lucifer v:as right. — P. 29. 
 
 This resolution of Eblis not to acknowledge the new creature, man, was, 
 according to Mahometan tradition, thus adopted ; — " The earth (which God 
 had selected for the materials of his work) was carried into Arabia, to a place 
 between Mecca and Tayef, where, being first kneaded by the angels, it was 
 afterwai'ds fashioned by God himself into a human form, and left to dry for 
 the space of forty days, or, as others say, as many years ; the angels, in the 
 mean time, often visiting it, and EbHs (then one of the angels nearest to 
 God's presence, afterwards the devil) among the rest ; but he, not contented 
 
 282 
 
NOTES. 
 
 with looking at it, Moked it with his foot till it rang, and knowing God de 
 signed that creature to be his superior, took a secret resolution never to 
 acknowledge him as such." — Sale on the Koran. 
 
 Where none hut priests are privileg'd to trade 
 In that lest marble of which gods wre made. — P. 30. 
 The material of which images of Gaudma (the Birman deity) is made, is 
 held sacred. " Birmans may not purchase the mai-ble in mass, but are 
 suffered, and indeed encouraged, to buy figures of the deity ready-made." — 
 Symes's Ava, toI. ii., p. 376. 
 
 The <pwn,y bird that da/res, with teasing hv/m. 
 Within the crocodile^ s stretched jaws to come. — P. 36. 
 The humming-bird is said to run this risk for the purpose of picKng the 
 crocodile's teeth. The same circumstance is related of the lapwing, as a fact 
 to which he was witness, by Paul Lucas, Voyage fait en 1714. 
 
 Some artists of Yamtcheou homing been sent on previously. — P. 4fl. 
 " The feast of lanterns is celebrated at Yamtcheou with more magnificence 
 than anywhere else ; and the report goes, that the illuminations there are so 
 splendid, that an Emperor once, not daring openly to leave his court to go 
 thither, committed himself, with the Queen and several Princesses of his 
 family, into the hands of a magician, who promised to transport them thither 
 in a trice. He made them in the night to ascend magnificent thrones that 
 were borne up by swans, which in a moment arrived at Yamtcheou. The 
 Emperor saw at his leisure all the solemnity, being carried upon a cloud that 
 hovered over the city and descended by degrees ; and came back again with 
 the same speed and equipage, nobody at court perceiving his absence." — The 
 Present State of China, p. 1 56. 
 
 Artificial sceneries of bamboo-worlc. — P. 40. 
 See a description of the nuptials of Vizier Alee in the Asiatic An/nuol 
 Register of 1804. 
 
 The origin of these fomtastic Chinese illuminations. — P. 40. 
 " The vulgar ascribe it to an accident that happened in the family of a 
 famous mandarin, whose daughter walking one evening upon the shore of a 
 lake, fell in and was drowned ; this afBicted father, with his family, run 
 thither, and, the better to find her, he caused a great company of lanterns to 
 be Ughted. All the inhabitants of the place thronged after him with torches. 
 The year ensuing they made fires upon the shores the same day ; they con- 
 tinued the ceremony every year, every one Kghted his lantern, and by degrees 
 it commenced into a custom." — Present State of China. 
 
 W3 
 
LALLA ROOKK. 
 
 The KohoVs jetty dije.—'P. 42, 
 " None of these ladies,'' says Shaw, " take themselves to be completely 
 dressed, till they have tinged the hair and edges of their eyehds with the 
 powder of lead-ore. Now, as this operation is performed by dipping first into 
 the powder a small wooden bodkin of the thickness of a quill, and then draw- 
 ing it afterwards through the eyelids over the ball of the eye, we shall have a 
 lively image of what the prophet (Jer. iv. 30) may be supposed to mean by 
 ' rending the eyes with painting.' This practice is no doubt of great anti- 
 quity ; for besides the instance already taken notice of, we find that where 
 Jezebel is said (2 Kings ix. 30) to have ' painted her face,' the original words 
 are, ' she adjusted her eye.s with the powder of lead-ore.' " — Shaiv's TrareJg. 
 
 . drop 
 Ahoitt the garth')}.<^^ (h-nnlv irith that ST'cet food. — P. 46. 
 Tavemier adds, that while the birds of paradise lie in this intoxicated state, 
 the emmets come and eat off their legs ; and that hence it is they are said to 
 have no feet. 
 
 As they v;ere raptii'cs tn the Kimj nf Flmi'i'ra. — P. 49. 
 " They defen-ed it till the King of Flowers should ascend his throne of 
 enamelled foHage." — The Bahar'hmvsJt. 
 
 Biit a light, f/olden chain-vorli rnimil her Ttah\ &c. — P. 50. 
 " One of the head-dresses of the Persian women is composed of a light 
 golden chain-work, set with small pearls, mth a thin gold plate pendant, 
 about the bigness of a crown-piece, on which is impressed an Arabian prayer, 
 and which hangs upon the cheek beUnv the ear." — Hainemi's Teore'ls. 
 
 The nuu.U,,/ Vezd.—P. ■■50. 
 " Certainly the women of Yezd are the handsomest women in Persia. The 
 proverb is, that to Uve happy a man must have a wife of Yezd, eat the bread 
 of Yezdeca.s, and drink the wine of Shiraz." — Tarernivr. 
 
 And hifs flouting eyes — nli ! they lU'sendde 
 Blue leater-'lilies.—P. 54. 
 
 " Whose wanton eyes resemble blue water-lilies agitated by the breeze." — 
 Jayadee'i_. 
 
 To muse upon tlip i.irtiires tlint hung round. — P. 55. 
 It has been generally supposed that the Mahometans prohibit all pictures 
 of animals ; but Toderini shows that, though the practice is forbidden by the 
 Koran, they are not more averse to painted figures and images than other 
 people. Prom Mr. Murphy's work, too, we find that the Arabs of Spain had 
 no objection to the introduction of figure.* into paintino-. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 Like her own radiant planet of the west, 
 Wliose orb when lialf retir'd looks loveUest. — P. 56. 
 This is not quite aatronomicaUy trae. " Dr. Hadley (says Keil) has shown 
 that Tenua is brightest when she is about forty degrees removed from the 
 sun ; and that then but only a fourth part of her lucid disc is to be seen from 
 the earth." 
 
 With her from 8abas bowers, in whose bright eyes 
 He read that to be blest is to be wise. — P. 56. 
 " In the palace which Solomoa ordered to be built against the arrival of 
 the Queen of Saba, the floor or pavement was of transparent glass, laid over 
 running water in which fish were swimming." This led the Queen into a very 
 natural mistake, which the Koran has not thought beneath its dignity to com- 
 memorate. " It was said unto her, Eater the palace. And when she saw it, 
 she imagined it to be a great water ; and she discovered her legs, by lifting 
 up her robe to pass through it. Whereupon Solomon said to Her, Verily, this 
 is the place evenly floored with glass." — Chap. 27. 
 
 Zitleiha. — P. 56. 
 " Such was the name of Potiphar's wife, according to the sura, or chapter, 
 of the Alcoran, which contains the history of Joseph, and which for elegance 
 of style surpasses every other of the Prophet's books ; some Arabian writers 
 also call her Rail. The passion which this frail beauty of antiquity conceived 
 for her young Hebrew slave has given rise to a much-esteemed poem in the 
 Persian language, entitled, ' Tusef van Zelikha,' by Noureddiu Jami ; the 
 manuscript copy of which in the Bodleian library at Oxford is supposed to be 
 the finest in the whole world." — Note upon Nott's Translation of ffu/cz. 
 
 \The apples of Istl^ahar. — P. 66. 
 " In the territory of Istkahar there is a kind of apple, half of which is sweet 
 and half sour." — Ebn Jffaukal. 
 
 They sa/w a young Hindoo yirl tqyon the bank. — P. G6. 
 For an account of this ceremony, vide Orandprfs Voyage in the Indian 
 Ocean. 
 
 The Oton-tala, or Sea of Stars. — P. 66. 
 " The place where the Whangho, a river of Tibet, rises, and where there are 
 more than a hundred springs, which sparkle like stars ; whence it is called 
 Hotun nor, that is, the Sea of Stars.'' — Description of Tibet in Pinkerton. 
 
 This City of War which, in u few short horns, 
 Has sprung up here. — P. 68. 
 " The Lescar, or Imperial Camp, is divided, like a regular town, into 
 squares, alleys, and streets, and from a rising ground furnishes one of the 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 most agreeable prospects in the world. Starting up in a, few hours in an 
 uninhabited plain, it raises the idea of a city built by enchantment. Even 
 those who leave their houses in cities to follow the Prince in his progress are 
 frequently so charmed with the Lescar, when situated in a beautiful and 
 convenient place, that they cannot prevail with themselves to remove. To 
 prevent this inconvenience to the court, the Emperor, after sufficient time 
 is allowed to the tradesmen to follow, orders them to be burnt out of their 
 tents." — Dmi^'s Hindosta7i. 
 
 Colonel Wilks gives a hvely picture of an Eastern encampment : — " His 
 camp, like that of most Indian armies, exhibited a motley collection of covers 
 from the scorching sun and dews of the night, variegated, according to the 
 taste or means of each individual, by extensive inclosures of coloured calico 
 smTounding superb suites of tents ; by ragged cloths or blankets stretched 
 over sticks or branches ; palm-leaves hastily spread over similar supports ; 
 handsome tents and splendid canopies ; horses, oxen, elephants, and camels ; 
 all intermixed without any exterior marks of order or design, except the flags 
 of the chiefs, which usually mark the centre of a congeries of these masses ; 
 the only reg-ular part of the encampment being the streets of shops, each 
 of which is constructed nearly in the manner of a booth at an English fair." — 
 Historical Sketches of the South of India. 
 
 And camels, tufted o'er with Yemen's shells. — P. 69. 
 " A superb camel, ornamented with strings and tufts of small shells." — 
 Ali Bey. 
 
 The tinlding throngs 
 Of laden camels, aiul their drivers' songs. — P. 69. 
 " Some of the camels have bells about then necks, and some about their 
 legs, like those which onr carriers put about their fore-horses' necks, which, 
 together with the servants (who belong to the camels, and travel on foot, 
 singing all night), make a pleasant noise, and the journey passes away delight- 
 fully." — Pitt's Account of the Mahometans. 
 
 " The camel-driver follows the camels singing, and sometimes playing upon 
 his pipe ; the louder he sings and pipes, the faster the camels go. Nay, they 
 will stand still when he gives over his music." — Tnvernier. 
 
 Hot as that crimson haze, 
 By which the prostrate caravan is aw'd. — P. 73. 
 Savary says of the south wind, which blows in Egypt from February to 
 May, " Sometimes it appears only in the shape of an impetuous whirlwind, 
 which passes rapidly, and is fatal to the traveller surprised in the middle 
 of the deserts. Torrents of bm'ning sand roll before it, the firmament is 
 enveloped in a thick veil, and the sun appears of the colour of blood. Some- 
 times whole caravans are buried in it." 
 
 266 
 
NOTTS. 
 the pilla/r'd throne 
 
 Of Paiviz.—V. 79. 
 
 There were said to be under tliis Throne or Palace of Ktos'cu Parviz a 
 hundred vaults filled with "treasures so immense, that some Mahometan 
 writers tell us, their Prophet, to encourage his disciples, carried them to a 
 rock, which at his command opened, and gave them a prospect through it 
 of the treasures of Khosrou." — Universal History. 
 
 And they beheld an orb, ample and bright, 
 
 Rise from the Holy Well.— P. 80. 
 We are not told more of this trick of the Impostor, than that it was " une 
 machine, qu'il disoit etre la lune." According to Richardson, the miracle is 
 perpetuated in Nekscheb : — " Nakshab, the name of a city in Transoxiania, 
 where they say there is a well, in which the appearance of the moon is to 
 be seen night and day.'' 
 
 On for the lamps, that Ught yon lofty screen. — P. 81. 
 The tents of princes were generally illuminated. Norden teUs us that the 
 tent of the Bey of Girge was distinguished from the other tents by forty 
 lanterns being suspended before it. — Vide Hariner's Observations on Job. 
 
 Engines of ha/voe in, wnknown before. — P. 85. 
 
 That they knew the secret of the Greek fire among the Mussulmans early 
 in the eleventh century, appears from Dow's Account of Mamood I. " When 
 he arrived at Moultan, finding that the country of the Jits was defended by 
 great rivers, he ordered fifteen hundred boats to be built, each of which he 
 armed with six iron spikes, projecting from their prows and sides, to prevent 
 their being boarded by the enemy, who were very expert in that kind of war. 
 When he had launched this fleet, he ordered twenty archers into each boat, 
 and five others with fire-balls, to burn the craft of the Jits, and naphtha to 
 set the whole river on fire." 
 
 The Agnee Aster, too, in Indian poems, the Instrument of Fire, whose 
 flame cannot be extinguished, is supposed to signify the Greek fire. — Vide 
 Wilks's South of India, vol. i., p. 471. And in the curious Javan poem, the 
 Brata Tudha, given by Mr. Rafiles, in his " History of Java," we find, " He 
 aimed at the heart of Soeta with the sharp-pointed weapon of fire." 
 . The mention of gunpowder as in use among the Arabians, long before its 
 supposed discovery in Europe, is introduced by Ebn Fadhl, the Egyptian 
 geographer, who Hved in the thirteenth century. " Bodies," he says, " in the 
 form of scorpions, bound round and filled with nitrous powder, ghde along, 
 making a gentle noise ; then exploding, they lighten, as it were, and bum. 
 But there are others which, cast into the air, stretch along hke a cloud, 
 
 267 
 
IjALLA eookh. 
 
 roaring horribly, as thunder roars, and on all sides vomiting out flames, burst, 
 burn, and reduce to cinders whatever comes in their way." The historian 
 Ben Abdalla, in speaking of the sieges of AbuluaUd, in the year of the Hegira 
 71^, says : — "A fiery globe, by means of combustible matter, with a mighty 
 noise suddenly emitted, strikes with the force of hghtning, and shakes the 
 citadel." — Vide the Extracts irom Casiri's Bihlioth. Arah. Hhjiait., in the 
 Appendix to BeHngton's Literary History of the Middle Ages. 
 
 Disehanjt\ as from a kindled naphtha fount. — P. 85. 
 
 See Han way's Account of the springs of naphtha at Baku (which is called 
 by Lieutenant Pottinger Joala Mookhee, or the Flaming Mouth,) taking fire 
 and running into the sea. Dr. Cooke, in his Journal, mentions some weU.s in 
 Circassia, strongly impregnated with this inflammsblB oil, from which issues 
 boiling water. " Though the weather," he adds, " was now very cold, the 
 warmth of these wells of hot water produced near them the verdure and 
 flowers of spring." 
 
 Major Scott Waring says that naphtha is used by the Persians, as we are 
 told it was in hell, for lamps. — 
 
 . " many a row 
 Of starry lamps and blazing cressets, fed 
 With naphtha and asphaltus, yielded light 
 As from a sky." 
 
 Thoii seest yon cistern in tlie shade — ^tis fllVd 
 )Vith burning drngs^ for this last hoitr distilVd. — P. 91. 
 " II donna du poison dans le vin a tous ses gens, et se jetta lui-meme 
 ensuite dans une cuve pleine de drogues brAlantes et oonsumantes, afln 
 qu'd ne restat rien de tous les membres de son corps, et que ceux qui 
 restoient de sa secte puissent croire qu'il ^toit monte au ciel, ce qui ne 
 mamqua pas d'arriver." — I)' Herielot. 
 
 To eat amy mangoes hid those ofMazagong icas, of cov/rse. impossible. — P. 98. 
 
 *' The celebrity of Mazagong is owing to its mangoes, which are certainly 
 the best fruit I ever tasted. The parent tree, from which all those of this 
 species have been grafted, is honoured during the fruit season by a guard of 
 sepoys ; and, in the reign of Shah Jehan, couriers were stationed between 
 Delhi and the Mahratta coast, to secure an abundant and fresh supply of man- 
 goes for the royal table." — Mrs. G-raham*s Journal of a Residence m India. 
 
 His fine aniiqne porcelain. — P. 98. 
 This old porcelain is found in digging, and " if it is esteemed, it is not 
 because it has acquired any new degree of beauty in the earth, but because 
 it has retained its ancient beauty ; and this alone is of great importance in 
 
 283 
 
NOTES. 
 
 China, where they give large sums for the smallest vessels which were used 
 under the Emperors Yan and Chun, who reigned many ages before the 
 dynasty of Tang, at which time porcelain began to be used by the Emperors " 
 (about the year 442). — Dunn's Collection of Cwrious Observations, ^•'c. — a bad 
 translation of some parts of the "Lettres Edifiantes et Curieuses " of the Mis- 
 sionary Jesuits. 
 
 That sublime bird, which fiies always in the air. — P. 102. 
 
 " The Huma, a bird pecuKar to the East. It is supposed to fly constantly 
 in the air, and never touch the ground : it is looked upon as a bird of happy 
 omen, and that every head it overshades will in time wear a crown.'' — Rich- 
 ardson. 
 
 In the terms of alliance made by Fuzzel Oola Khan with Hyder, in 1760, 
 one of the stipulations was, " that he should have the distinction of two hono- 
 rary attendants standing behind him, holding fans composed of the feathers of 
 the humma, according to the practice of his family.'' — Wilhs's South of India. 
 He adds in a note ; — " The humma is a fabulous bird. The head over which 
 its shadow once passes will assuredly be circled with a c^o^vn. The splendid 
 little bird, suspended over the throne of Tippoo Sultaun, found at Seringa- 
 patam in 1799, was intended to represent this poetical fancy." 
 
 Whose words, Uhe those on the Written Mountain, last for ever. — P. 102. 
 " To the pilgrims to Mount Sinai we must attribute the inscriptions, figures, 
 &c., on those rocks, which have frona thence acquired the name of the Written 
 Mountain." — Volney. M. Gebelin and others have been at much pains trj 
 attach some mysterious and important meaning to these inscriptions ; but 
 Niebuhr, as well as Volney, thinks that they must have been executed at idle 
 hours by the travellers to Mount Sinai, " who were satisfied with cutting the 
 unpohshed rock with any pointed instrument ; adding to their names and the 
 date of their journeys some rude figures, which bespeak the hand of a people 
 but little skilled in the arts." — Niebuhr. 
 
 From the dax'k hyacinth to which Hafez convpa/res his mistress's hair. — P. 103. 
 Vide Notes Hafez, Ode V. 
 
 To the Cdmalatd, by whose rosy blossoms the hecmen oflndra is scented. — P. 103. 
 
 " The Camalata (called by Linnaeus, Ipomsea) is the most beautifal of its 
 order, both in the colour and form of its leaves and flowers ; its elegant blos- 
 soms are ' celestial rosy red. Love's proper hue,' and have justly procured it 
 the name of Camalata, or Love's Creeper." — Sir W. Jones. 
 
 " Camalata may also mean a mythological plant, by which all desires are 
 granted to such as inhabit the heaven of Indra ; and if ever flower was worthy 
 of Paradise, it is our charming Ipom^a.'' — lb. 
 
 o 289 
 
LALLA ROOKH. 
 
 Thatfiower-liiviidj n-ympli, whom they uwrship in the temples of Kcdhay. — P. 103. 
 " According- to Father Premare, in his tract on Chinese Mythology, the 
 mother of Fo-hi was the daughter of heaven, sumamed Flower-loving ; and as 
 the nymph was walking alone on the bank of a river, she found herself en- 
 circled by a rainbow, after which she became pregnant, and, at the end of 
 twelve years, was deUvered of a son radiant as herself." — Asiatic Researches. 
 
 That hliw flower, ivhich — Bramins say — 
 Blooms nowhere hut in Paradise. — P. 107. 
 " The Brahmins of this province insist that the blue Campac flowers only in 
 Paradise.'' — 'Sir W. Jones. It appears, however, from a curious letter of the 
 Sultan of Menangcabow, given by Marsden, that one place on earth may lay 
 claim to the possession of it. " This is the Sultan, who keeps the flower 
 Champaka that is blue, and to be found in no other country but his, being 
 yellow elsewhere.'' — ILarsdai's Sumatra. 
 
 I hiiow where the Isles of I'erfume are. — P. 108. 
 Diodorus mentions the Isle of Panohaia, to the south of Arabia Felix, where 
 there was a temple of Jupiter. This island, or rather cluster of isles, has 
 disappeared, " sunk (says Grandpre) in the abyss made by the fire beneath 
 their foundations.'' — Voyage to the Indian Ucean. 
 
 Whose air is halm, whase ocea.n. spreads 
 O'er coral rocl-s and. ainher beds, &c. — P. 108. 
 " It is not like the sea of India, whose bottom is rich with pearls and amber- 
 gris, whose mountains of the coast are stored with gold and precious stones, 
 whose gulfs breed creatures that yield ivory, and among the plants of whose 
 shores are ebony, red wood, and the wood of Hairzan, aloes, camphor, cloves, 
 sandal-wood, and all other spices and aromatica j where parrots and peacocks 
 are birds of the forest, and musk and civet are collected upon the lands." — 
 Travels of Two Mahometans. 
 
 Thy piUar'd shodes.^F. 109. 
 
 . . , . " in the ground 
 The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow 
 About the mother tree, a pillared shade. 
 High over-arch' d, and echoing walks between." — Milton. 
 
 For a particular description and plate of the banyan-tree, vide Oordiner's 
 Ceylon. 
 
 Thy monctrc/is o.nd, their thousand thrones. — P. 109. 
 " With this immense treasure Mamood returned to Ghizni, and in the yeai' 
 400 prepared a magnificent festival, where he displayed to the people his 
 
 290 
 
NOTKS. 
 
 •wealth, in golden tlironos and in other ornaments, in a great plain without the 
 city of Ghizni." — Fcriahta. 
 
 hlood like this^ 
 
 For Liberty shed, so holy is. — P. 110. 
 Objections may be made to my use of the word Liberty, in this, and more 
 especially in the story that follows it, as totally inapplicable to any state of 
 things that has ever existed in the East ; but though I cannot, of course, mean 
 to employ it in that enlarged and noble sense which is so well understood at 
 the present day, and, I grieve to say, so Kttlc acted upon, yet it is no dispa- 
 ragement to the word to apply it to that national independence, that freedom 
 from the interference and dictation of foreigners, without which, indeed, no 
 liberty of any kind can exist, and for which both Hindoos and Persians fought 
 against their Mussulman invaders with, in many cases, a bravery that de- 
 S3rved much better success. 
 
 Afric's Lunar Mountains. — P. 112. 
 " Sometimes called," says Jackson, " Jibbel Kumrie, or the white or lunar- 
 coloured mountains ; so a white horse is called' by the Arabians a moon- 
 coloured horse." 
 
 Only the fierce hycena stalhs 
 Throughout the citifs desolate walks. — P. 114. 
 " Gondar was full of hyaenas from the time it turned dai-k till the dawn of 
 day, seeking the different pieces of slaughtered carcases, which this cruel and 
 unclean people expose in the streets without burial, and who firmly believe 
 that these animals are Falashta from the neighbouring mountains, transformed 
 by mag-ic, and come down to eat human flesh in the dark in safety." — Bruce. 
 
 But see — who yonder comes. — P. 116. 
 This circumstance has been often introduced into poetry ; — by Yincentius 
 Pabricius, by Darwin, and, with very powerful effect, by Mr. Wilson. 
 
 And, Jordan, those sweet banks of thine, 
 And woods, so fall of nightingales. — P. 121. 
 " The river Jordan is on both. sides beset with little, thick, and pleasant 
 
 woods, among which thousands of nightingales warble all together." — 
 
 Tlievenot. 
 
 On the brink 
 Of a small ima/refs rustic fount. — P. 123 
 Imaret, " hospice o\l on lege et nourrit, gratis, les pelerins pendant trois 
 jours." — Toderini, trcmslated by the Abbi de Oournand. — Vide also Castellan's 
 Mceurs des Othomans, tom. v., p. 145. 
 
 291 
 
LALLA KOOKH. 
 
 The hoy has startcl from the hcd 
 
 Of flowers, ivhere he hoA laid his hfrid, 
 
 And down vpon the fragrant sod 
 
 A'nceZs-.— P. 12-1-. 
 " ?'\\ch Turks as, at. the common hours of prayer, are on the road, or bo 
 employed as not to find convenience to attend the mosques, are still obliged 
 to execute that duty ; nor are they ever known to fail, whatever business 
 they are then about, but pray immediately when the hour alarms them, what- 
 e\xr they are about, in that very place they chance to stand on ; insomuch 
 that when a janissary, whom you have to guard you up and down the city, 
 hears the notice which is given him from the steeples, he will turn about, 
 stand still, and beckon with his hand, to tell his charge he must have patience 
 for aiN liile ; when, taking out his handkerchief, he spreads it on the ground, 
 sits cross-legged thereupon, and says liis prayers, though in the open market, 
 which having ended, he leaps briskly up, salutes the person whom he under- 
 took to convey, and renews his journey, ivith the mild expression of ' Ghell 
 ijnhii]iuhi yhtll,' or, ' Come, dear, follow me.' " — Aaron, Hill's Travels. 
 
 The Sainjan Hospital— V. 129. 
 
 " This account excited a desire of visiting the Banyan Hospital, as I had 
 heard much of their benevolence to all kinds of animals that were either 
 sick, lame, or infirm through age or accident. On jny an'ival, there were 
 presented to my view mauy horses, cows, and oxen, in one apartment ; in 
 another, dogs, sheep, goats, and monkeys, with clean straw for them to repose 
 on. Above stairs were depositories for seeds of many sorts, and flat, broad 
 dishes for water, for the use of birds and insects." — Farso7is. 
 
 It is said that all animals know the Banyans, that the most timid aproach 
 
 them, and that birds will fly nearer to them than to other people. Vide 
 
 araudj.rr. 
 
 Wliose sweetness ivas not to he dratcii forth, like that of the fro 'j rant iirass near 
 the Oanyes, by ernshimj and trantjiling wpon them. — P. 130. 
 " A very fragrant grass from the banks of the Ganges, near Heridwar, 
 which in some places covers whole acres, and difl^iscs v\hen crushed a stronc 
 odour.'' — >S'(V ir. Jones, on the i^j'ilienardj of the Ancients. 
 
 Arlizans in chariots. P. 13^ 
 
 Vide Oriental Tale 
 
 Wared ^ihttes of gold and, silrer flnn-ers over their lieads. — P. 132. 
 " Or rather," says Scott, upon the passage of Ferishta from which tliis is 
 taken, " small coin, stamped with the figure of a flower. They are still used 
 
 292 
 
NOTES. 
 
 in India to distribute in charity, and, on occasion, thrown by t^e purse-bearers 
 of the great among the populace." 
 
 His ilelectahle alley of tivcs. — P. 132. 
 This road is 250 leagues in length. It has " little pyramids or turrets," 
 says Bernier, " erected every half league, to mark the ways, and frequent 
 wells to afford drink to passengers, and to water the young trees." 
 
 On the clea/r, cold waters nf which jloated multitudes of the heaiitiful red lotus. — 
 
 P. 124. 
 " Here is a large pagoda by a tank, on the waters 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. Orahani's 
 Joiii^al of a Residence in India. 
 
 Tr/j.o, tnany hundred years since^ had fled hither from tlieir Arah conquerors. — 
 
 P. 136. 
 " On les voit, persecutes par les Khalifes, se retirer dans les montagnes du 
 Kerman : plusienrs choisirent pour retraite la Tartaric et la Chine ; d'autres 
 s'arrStferent sur les bords du Gauge, h, Test de Delhi." — M. Anquetil, Mimoires 
 de V Academic, tom. xxxi., p. 346. 
 
 As a native of Ccbshmere, which had in the same manner become the prey of 
 strangers. — P. 136. 
 " Cashmere (say its historians) had its own princes 4000 years before its 
 conquest by Akbar in 1585. Akbar would have found some difficulty to 
 reduce this Paradise of the Indies, situated as it is, within such u fortres.s 
 of mountains ; but its monarch, Yusef Khan, was basely betrayed by his 
 omrahs." — Pennant. 
 
 The Fire-worshippers. — P. 138. 
 Voltaire tells us, that in his tragedy, " Les Gufebres," he was generally 
 supposed to have aUuded to the Jansenists ; and I should not be surprised if 
 this story of the Fire- worshippers were found capable of a similar doubleness 
 of appKcation. 
 
 Who, lull'd in cool kiosh or hower. — P. 143. 
 " In the midst of the garden is the chiosk, that is, a large room, commonly 
 beautified with a fine fountain in the midst of it. It is raised nine or ten 
 steps, and inclosed with gilded lattices, round which vines, jessamines, and 
 honeysuckles make a sort of green wall : large trees are planted round this 
 place, which is the scene of their greatest pleasures." — Lady 31. W. Montagtt. 
 
 393 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 Before tliew mirrors cownt the U^ne. — P. 143. 
 
 Tlie women of the East are never witliout their looking-glasses. " In Bar- 
 bary," says Shaw, " they are so fond of their looking-glasses, which they 
 hang upon their breasts, that they will not lay them aside, even when, after 
 the drudgery of the day, they are obliged to go two or three miles with a 
 pitcher or a goat's skin to fetch water." — Travels. 
 
 In other parts of Asia they wear little looking-glasses on their thnmbs. 
 " Hence (and from the lotus being considered the emblem of beauty) is the 
 irieaning of the following mute intercourse of two lovers before their parents : — 
 
 '* He, with salute of deference due, 
 A lotus to his forehead press'd; 
 She rais'd her mirror to his view, 
 Then turn'd it inward to her breast," 
 
 Asiatio Miscellany, vol. ii. 
 
 tV untrodclen solitude 
 Cf Ararat's inremendous peak. — P. 145. 
 Stray says, " I can well assure the reader that their opinion is not true, 
 who suppose this mount to be inaccessible," He adds that " the lower part 
 of the mountain is cloudy, misty, and dark ; the middlemost part very cold, 
 and like clouds of snow ; but the upper regions perfectly calm." It was on 
 this mountain that the Ark was supposed to have rested aAer the Deluge, 
 and part of it, they say, exists there still, which Stray thus gravely accounts 
 for : — " Whereas none can remember that the air on the top of the hiU did 
 ever change, or was subject either to wind or rain, which is presumed to be 
 the reason that the Axk has endured so long vrithout being rotten." — Vide 
 Carrcri's Travels, where the Doctor laughs at this whole account of Mount 
 Ararat. 
 
 The Glieber belt that round him clung. — P. 152, 
 " Pour se distinguer des Idolatres de I'lnde, les Guebrfes se oeignent tons 
 d'un cordon do laine, ou de poil de charaeau." — Encyclopidie Franroi.-.-e. 
 D'Herbelot says this belt was generally of leather. 
 
 . who, viorn and even. 
 Hail their Creato/s dwelling-place 
 
 Among the living Ughts of heaven. — P. 152. 
 •' As to fire, the Ghebers place the spring-head of it in that globe of fire, the 
 Sun, by them called Mythras, or Mihir, to which they pay the highest reve- 
 rence, in gratitude for the manifold benefits flowing from its ministerial 
 omniscience. But they are so far from confounding the subordination of the 
 Servant with the majesty of its Creator, that they not only attribute no sort 
 of sense or reasoning to the sun or fire, in any of its operations, but consider 
 
 294 
 
NOTES. 
 
 it as a purely passive, blind instrument, directed and governed by the imme- 
 diate impression on it of the will of God ; but they do not even give that 
 Inminary, all glorious as it is, more than the second rank amongst his works, 
 reserving the first fpr that stupendous production of Divine power, the mind 
 of man." — Qrose. The fiilse charges brought against the religion of these 
 people by their Mussulman tyrants is but one proof among many of the truth 
 of this writer's remark, " that calumny is often added to oppression, if but for 
 the sake of justifying it." 
 
 That enchanted tree, which grows over the torrib of the rmisicicm Ta/n-Sein — 
 
 P. 157. 
 " Within the enclosure which surrounds this monument (at Gualior) is a 
 small tomb to the memory of Tan-Sein, a musician of incomparable skill, who 
 flourished at the court of Akbar. The tomb is overshadowed by a tree, con- 
 cerning which a superstitious notion prevails, that the chewiag of its leaves 
 win give an ertraordinary melody to the voice." — Na/rrative of a Jowmey from 
 Agra to Ouzem, by W. Hunter, Esq. 
 
 The cmful signal of the ba/mboo-staff. — P. 157. 
 " It is usual to place a small white triangular flag, fixed to a bamboo staff 
 of ten or twelve feet long, at the place where a tiger has destroyed a man. It 
 is common for the passengers also to throw each a stone or brick near the 
 spot, so that in the course of a little time a pile equal to a good waggon-load 
 is collected. The sight of these flags and piles of stones imparts a certain 
 melancholy, not perhaps altogether void of apprehension." — Oriental Field 
 Sports, vol. ii. 
 
 Beneath the shade some pious liands had erected, &c. — P. 157. 
 " The Ficus Indica is called the Pagod Tree, and Tree of Councils : the first 
 from the idols placed under its shade ; the second, because meetings were 
 held under its cool branches. In some places it is beUeved to be the haunt of 
 spectres, as the ancient spreading oaks of Wales have been of fairies ; in 
 others are erected beneath the shade pillars of stone, or posts, elegantly 
 carved and ornamented with the most beautifol porcelain, to supply the use of 
 mirrors." — Pewia-nt. 
 
 The nightingale nnw bends her fiAght. — P, 159. 
 " The nightingale sings from the pomegranate groves in the day-time, and 
 from the loftiest trees at night." — Russel's Aleppo. 
 
 Before whose sabre's damsUng light. — P. 162. 
 "When the bright oimiters make the eyes of our heroes wink.'' — Tlio 
 _ Moalkikat, Poems of Anvni. 
 
LALLA ROOKH. 
 
 As Lchiinoii's small 'mountain-flood 
 
 Is ■reudcr'd holy hy the ranks 
 
 Of sainted cedars on its hanJcs. — P. 16i. 
 In the *' Lettres Edifiantes '' there is a different cause assigned for its name 
 of Holy. " In these are deep caverns, which formerly served as so many cells 
 for a great number of recluses, who had chosen these retreats as the only wit- 
 nesses upon earth of the severity of their penance. The tears of these pious 
 penitents gave the river of which we have just treated the name of the Holy 
 River.'" — Chatcoi'hrland.'s Beauties of Chrtstlanifij. 
 
 A rocky mountain, der the i^eo. 
 
 Of Oman beetling anfully. — P. 165. 
 
 This mountain is my o\vn creation, as the " stupendous chain,'' of which I 
 suppose it a link, does not extend quite so far as the shores of the Persian 
 Gulf. " This long and lofty range of mountains formerly divided Media from 
 Assyria, and now forms the boundary of the Persian and Turkish empires. It 
 runs parallel with the river Tigris and Persian Gulf, and almost disappearing 
 in the vicinity of Gombaroon (Harmozia), seems once more to rise in the 
 southern districts of Kerman, and following an easterly course through the 
 centre of Meckraun and Balouchistan, is entirely lost in the deserts of 
 Sinde." — Kinneir's Persi'm Empire. 
 
 That hold were Moslem who would, dare. 
 At twiliijht hour, to steer his skiff ■ 
 Beneath the Gheher's lonely cliff.— V. 166. 
 
 " There is an extraordinary hill in this neighbourhood, called Kohe Gubr, or 
 the Guebre's Mountain. It rises in the fonn of a lofty cupola, and on the 
 summit of it, they say, are the remains of an Atush Kudu, or Fire Temple. It 
 is superstitiously held to be the residence of Deeves or Sprites, and many 
 marvellous stories are recounted of the injury and witchcraft suflfered by 
 those who essayed in former days to ascend or explore it." — PoUinger's 
 Beloochistaii. 
 
 Still did the mdghty flame hum on, — P. 168. 
 
 " At the city of Yezd, in Persia, which is distinguished by the appellation 
 of the Dariib Abadut, or Seat of Eehgion, the Guebres are permitted to have 
 an Atush Kudu, or Fire Temple (which, they assert, has had the sacred fire 
 in it since the days of Zoroaster), in their own compartment of the city ; but 
 for tliis indulgence they are indebted to the avarice, not the tolerance, of the 
 Persian government, which taxes them at twenty-five rupees each man."— 
 Pottinger's Beh>ochistan. ' 
 
 296 
 
NOTES. 
 
 while on that altar's f/res 
 
 They swore. — P. 171. 
 
 " Nul d'entre eux oseroit se perjurer, quand il a pris k t^moin oet eUment 
 terrible et vengeur.'' — T!iiC'jrJrip^,Ue Fraiiroise. 
 
 The Persian lily shines and towers. — P. 171. 
 
 " A vivid verdure succeeds the autumnal rains, and the ploughed fields are 
 covered with the Persian lily, of a resplendent yellow colour." — BMSsel's 
 Aleppo. 
 
 Like Dead Sea fruits, that tempt the eye. 
 But turn to ashes on the lips. — P. 177. 
 
 " They say that there are apple-trees upon the sides of this sea, which bear 
 very lovely fruit, but within are all fall of ashes." — Tlievenot. The same is 
 asserted of the oranges there ; vide Witman's Trwvels in Asiatic Twrlcey. 
 
 " The asphalt lake, known by the name of the Dead Sea, is very remark- 
 able on account of the considerable prop"rtion of salt which it contains. In 
 this respect it surpasses every other known water on the surface of the earth. 
 This great proportion of bitter-tasted salts is the reason why neither animal 
 nor plant can live in this water." — Klaproth's Chemical Analysis of the Water 
 of the Dead Sea, Annals of Philosophy, Jamia/ry, 1818. Hasselquist, however, 
 doubts the truth of this last assertion, as there are sheU-flsh to be found in 
 the lake. 
 
 Lord Byron has a similar allusion to the fruits of the Dead Sea, in that 
 wonderful display of genius, his Third Canto of Childe Harold, — magnificent 
 beyond anything, perhaps, that even he has ever written. 
 
 While lahes, that shone in mockery nigh. — P. 177. 
 
 " The Suhrab, or Water of the Desert, is said to be caused by the rarefac- 
 tion of the atmosphere from extreme heat ; and, which augments the delu- 
 sion, it is most frequent in hollows, where water might be expected to lodge. 
 I have seen bushes and trees reflected in it, with as much accuracy as though 
 it had been the face of a clear and stiU lake." — PotUn<jer. 
 
 " As to the unbelievers, their works are like a vapour in a plain, which the 
 thirsty traveller thiuketh to be water, until when he cometh thereto he 
 findeth it to be nothing." — Koran, chap. 24. 
 
 A flower that the Bid-musk lias just passed over. — P. 179. 
 
 " A wind which prevails in Febraary, called Bid-musk, from a small and 
 odoriferous flower of that name." — " The wind which blows these flowers 
 commonly lasts till the end of the month." — Le Bruyn. 
 
 p p 297 
 
LAILA EOOKH. 
 
 Wliere the sea-gipsies, who live for ever on tiie water. — P. 179. 
 " The Biajus are of two races ; the one is settled on Borneo, and are a rude 
 but warlike and industrious nation, who reckon themselves the original 
 possessors of the island of Borneo. The other is a species of sea-gipsies, or 
 itinerant fishermen, who ]ive in small covered boats, and enjoy a perpetual 
 summer on the eastern ocean, shifting to leeward from island to island, with 
 the variations of the monsoon. In some of their customs this singular race 
 resemble the natives of the Maldivia islands. The Maldivians annually launch 
 a small bark, loaded with perfumes, gums, flowers, and odoriferous wood, and 
 turn it adrift at the mercy of winds and waves, as an offering to the Spirit of 
 the Winds ; and sometimes similar offerings are made to the Spirit whom 
 they term the King of the Sea. In like manner the Biajus perform their 
 offering to the god of evil, launching a small bark, loaded with all the sins 
 and misfortunes of the nation, wliich are imagined to fall on the unhappy 
 crew who may be so unlucky as first to meet with it." — Dr. Leyden, on the 
 Liinguages a-iid Literature of the Indo-Chinese Nations. 
 
 The violet sherbets. — P. 179. 
 
 " The sweet-scented violet is one of the plants most esteemed, particularly 
 for its great use in Sorbet, which they make of violet sugar." — Hasselquist. 
 
 " The sherbet they moat esteem, and which is drank by the Grand Signer 
 himself, is made of violets and sugar." — Tavernicr. 
 
 The pathetic measure of Noma. — P. 179. 
 " Last of an she took a guitar, and sung a pathetic air in the measure called 
 Nava, which is always used to express the lamentations of absent lovers.'' — 
 Persian Tales. 
 
 Her ruhy rosa/ry. — P. 183. 
 " Le Tespih, qui est un ohapelet, compose de 99 petites boules d'agathe, do 
 jaspe, d'ambre, de corail, on d'autre mati^re precieuse. J'enaivuun superbe 
 au Seigneur Jerpos ; il etoit de belles et grosses perles parfaites et egales, 
 estime trente millc piastres." — Toderini. 
 
 A silk dyed with the blossoms of the sorrowful trree Nilica, — P. 198. 
 " Blossoms of the sorrowful Nyctanthes give a durable colour to silk." — 
 Rcmnrks on the Husba/nd/ry of Bengal, p. 200. "Nilica is one of the Indian 
 names of this flower." — Bit W. Jones. " The Persians call it Gul." — Carreri. 
 
 When pitying HeoM'n to roses tum'd 
 The death-flames that beneath him hurn'd. — P. 209. 
 Of their other Prophet, Zoroaster, there is a story told in Dion Prusa3us, 
 Orat. 36, that the love of wisdom and virtue leading him to a, sohtary life 
 
 293 
 
NOTES. 
 
 upon a mountain, he found it one day all in a flame, shinimg with celestial 
 fire, out of which he came without any harm, and instituted certain eacrifices 
 to God, who, he declared, then appeared to him. — Vide Patrick on Bxod. iii. 2. 
 
 They were now not fa/r from that Forbidden River. — P. 232. 
 " Akbar on his way ordered a fort to be built upon the Nilab, which he 
 called Attock, which means, in the Indian language, Forbidden ; for, by the 
 superstition of the Hindoos, it was held unlawful to cross that river."— Dow's 
 Hindostan, 
 
 Resembling, she often thought, that people of Zinge P. 234. 
 
 " The inhabitants of this country (Zinge) are never afflicted with sadness 
 or melancholy : on this subject the Sheikh Abu-al-Kheir-Azhari has the fol- 
 lowing distich : — 
 
 " Who is the man without care or sorrow (teU), that I may rub my hand to 
 him. 
 
 " (Behold) the Zingians, without care or sorrow, froUosnme with tipsiness 
 and mirth." 
 
 " The plulosophera have discovered that the cause of this cheerfulness pro- 
 ceeds from the influence of the star Soheil, or Canopns, which rises over them 
 6very night." — Extract from a Geographical Persian Marmscript called ' Reft 
 Aklim,' or the Seven CUmates, trcmslated by W. Ouaeley, Esq. 
 
 Putting to death some hund/reds of those wnfortunate Uzards. — P. 231. 
 
 " The lizard SteUio. The Arabs call it Harduu: The Turks Mil it, for they 
 imagine that by declining the head it mimics them when they say their 
 prayers." — Hasselqwist. 
 
 About two miles from Susswii Abdanl were those Royal Oaardens. — P. 234. 
 I am indebted for these particulars of Hussun Abdaul to the very interest- 
 ing Introduction of Mr. Elphinstone's work upon Caubnl. 
 
 .4s the Prophet said of Damascus, " it was too deUcious." — P. 234. 
 
 " As you enter at that Bazaar without the gate of Damascus, you see the 
 Green Mosque, so called because it hath a steeple faced with green glazed 
 bricks, which render it very resplendent ; it is covered at top with a pavilion 
 of the same stuff. The Turks say this mosque was made in that place, because 
 Mahomet, being come so far, would not enter the town, saying it was too 
 delicious." — Thevenot. This reminds one of the following pretty passage in 
 Isaac Walton : — " When I sat last on this primrose bank, and looked down 
 these meadows, I thought of them as Charles the Emperor did of the city of 
 Florence, ' that they were too pleasant to be looked on, but only on holidays.' " 
 
 399 
 
LALLA ROOKfl. 
 
 Would remind the Princess of that cUfference, &c. — P. 235. 
 
 " Haroun Al Easchid, cinquieme Khalife des Abassidea, s'etant un jour 
 brouille aveo nne de ses maltresses nonunee Maridah, qu'il aimoit oependanfc 
 jusqu'il I'exces, et cette mesmteUigence ayant deji dure quelque terns com- 
 men9a k s'ennuyer. Giafar Bariuaki, son favori, qui s'en apper^At, commanda 
 k Abbas ben Ainaf, excellent pofete de ce tems 1^, de composer quelques vers 
 sur le sujet de cette brouiUerie. Ce poete executa Tordre de Giafar, qui fit 
 chauter ses vers par Moussali en presence du KhaJife, et ce Prince fat tene- 
 ment touche de la tendresse des vers du pofete et de la douceur de la voix du 
 musicien qu'il alia aussi-t6t trouver Maridah, et fit sa paix avec elle." — 
 D'Herbelot. 
 
 Where the silken swing. — P. 240. 
 
 " The swing is a favourite pastime in the East, as promoting a circulation 
 of air extremely refreshing in those sultry cUmatcs." — Richardson. 
 
 " The swings are adorned with festoons. This pastime is accompanied with 
 music of voices and of instruments, hired by the masters of the swings.'' — 
 Thevenof. 
 
 The hasil trift, thai lonves 
 
 Its fragrant blossoms over graves. — P. 250. 
 
 " The women in Egypt go, at least two days in the week, to pray and 
 weep at the sepulchres of the dead ; and the custom then is to throw upon 
 the tombs a sort of herb, which the Arabs call rihan, and which is our sweet 
 basil."— >/ai;!rf, Lett. 10. 
 
 The )nountain.-herh^ that dyes 
 
 The tooth of the fawn like gold.—V. 252. 
 
 Niebuhr thinks this may be the herb which the Eastern alchemists look to 
 as a means of making gold. " Most of these alchemical enthusiasts think 
 themselves sure of success if thoy could but find out the herb, which gilds the 
 teeth and gives a yellow colour to the flesh of the sheep that eat it. Even the 
 oil of this plant must be of a golden colour. It is called ' Haschischat ed dab.' " 
 
 Father Jerom Dandini, however, asserts that the teeth of the goats at 
 Mount Libanus are of a silcer colour ; and adds, " this confirms me that which 
 1 observed in Candia j to wit, that the animals that live on Mount Ida eat a 
 certain herb, which renders their teeth of a golden colour ; which, according 
 to my judgment, cannot other^vise proceed than from the mines which are 
 under ground." — Dandini, Voyage to Mount Libanus. 
 
 ^Tis I that miiigJe In one sweet measure 
 Tlie past, the present, and futv/re of pleasure. — P. 255. 
 " Whenever our pleasure arises from a succession of sounds, it is a percep • 
 tion of compUcated nature, made up of a sensation of the present sound or 
 
 300 
 
NOTES. 
 
 note, and an idea or remembrance of the foregoing, wliile their mixtm-e and 
 concurrence produce such a mysterious delight, as neither could have pro- 
 duced alone. And it is often heightened by an anticipation of the succeeding 
 notes. Thus Sense, Memory, and Imagination are conjunctively employed." — 
 Gerranl, on Taste. 
 
 This is exactly the Epicurean theory of Pleasure, as explained by Cicero : — 
 " Quocirca corpus gaudere tamdiu, dum prsesentem sentiret voluptatem ; 
 ammum et prassentem percipere pariter cum corpore et prospicere venientem, 
 nee prseteritam praeterfluere sinere." 
 
 Madame de Stael accounts upon the same principle for the gratification we 
 derive from rhyme : — " EUe est I'image de I'eeperance et du souvenir. Un 
 son nous fait d^sirer eelui qui doit lui repondre, et quand le second retentit il 
 nous rappeUe celui qui vient de nous ^chapper." 
 
 'Tis dawn — at least tliat ewrlier dawn. 
 Whose gUmpses are again withdrawn. — P. 256. 
 " The Persians have two mornings, the Soobhi Eazim and the Soobhi 
 Sadig, the false and the real daybreak. They account for this phenomenon in 
 a most whimsical manner. They say, that as the sun rises from behind the 
 Kohi Qaf (Mount Caucasus), it passes a hole perforated through that moun- 
 tain, and that darting its rays through it, it is the cause of the Soobhi Ka^im, 
 or this temporary appearance of daybreak. As it ascends, the earth is again 
 vefled in darkness, untU the sun rises above the mountain, and brings with it 
 the Soobhi Sadig, or real morning." — Scott Waring. He thinks Milton may 
 allude to this, when he says — 
 
 *' Ere the blabbing Eastern scout. 
 The nice mori) on the Indian steep, 
 From her cabin'd loop-hole peep." 
 
 . held a feast 
 In his magnificent ShaUmar. — P. 257. 
 " In the centre of the plain, as it approaches the Lake, one of the Delhi 
 emperors, I beheve Shah Jehan, constructed a spacious garden called the 
 Shahmar, which is abundantly stored with fruit-trees and flowering shrubs. 
 Some of the rivulets which intersect the plaiu are led into a canal at the back 
 of the garden, and, flowing through its centre, or occasionally thrown into a 
 variety of water-works, compose the chief beauty of the ShaUmar. To deco- 
 rate this spot the Mogul Princes of India have displayed an equal magni- 
 ficence and taste ; especially Jehan Gheer, who, with the enchanting Noor 
 Mahl, made Kashmire his usual residence during the summer months. On 
 arches thrown over the canal are erected, at equal distances, four or five suites 
 of apartments, each consisting of a saloon, with four rooms at the angles, 
 where the followers of the court attend, and the servants prepare sherbets 
 
LALLA EOOKH. 
 
 coifee, and the hookah. The frame of the doors of the principal saloon is com- 
 posed of pieces of a stone of a black colour, streaked with yellow lines, and of 
 a closer grain and higher polish than porphyry. They were taken, it is said, 
 from a Hindoo temple, by one of the Mogul Princes, and are esteemed of great 
 value." — Forster. 
 
 And oh, if there he, &c. — P. 263. 
 
 " Around the exterior of the Dewas Khass (a building of Shah Allum's), in 
 the cornice, are the following hues in letters of gold upon a ground of white 
 marble, — ' If there be a paradise upon earth, it is this, it is this.' " — FrcmkUn. 
 
 Like that painted 'porcelain. — P. 270. 
 
 " The Chinese had formerly the art of painting on the sides of porcelain 
 vessels fish and other animals, which were only perceptible when the vessel 
 was full of some liquor. They call this species Kia-tsin, that is, ' azure is put 
 in press,' on account of the manner in which Vie azure is laid on." — " They 
 are every now and tnen trying to recover the art of this magical painting, but 
 to no purpose." — Dunn. 
 
 More perfect them the divi/nest images in tlie House of Azor. — P. 270. 
 
 An eminent carver of idols, said in the Koran to be father to Abraham. " I 
 have such a lovely idol as is not to be met with in the house of Azor.'' — Hajiz. 
 
 The grottoes, hermitigos, a/nd miraculous fountains. — P. 271. 
 
 " The pardonable superstition of the sequestered inhabitants has multiplied 
 the places of worship of Mahadeo, of Beschan, and of Brama. AH Cashmere 
 is holy land, and mii'aculoua fountains abound." — Major RennelVs Memoirs of 
 Lb Mop of HindostoM. 
 
 Jehan-Guii'e mentions " a fountain in Cashmire called Timagh, which signi- 
 fies a snake ; probably because some large snake had formerly been seen 
 there." — " During the lifetime of my father, I went twice to this fountain, 
 which is about twenty coss from the city of Cashmeer. The vestiges of places 
 of worship and sanctity are to be traced without number amongst the ruins 
 and the caves, which are interspersed in its neighbourhood." — ToozeJc Jchan- 
 gecnj. — Vide Asiat. Misc., vol. ii. 
 
 There is another account of Cashmere by Abul-Fazil, the author of the 
 Ayin-Aobaree ; "who," says Major Eennell, " appears to have caught some of 
 the enthusiasm of the Valley, by his descriptions of the holy places in it." 
 
 Whose houses, roofed with flowers. — P. 271- 
 
 " On a standing roof of wood is laid a covering of fina earth, which shelters 
 the building irom tho great quantity of snow that falls in the winter season. 
 
 302 
 
NOTES. 
 
 This fence oommimicates an equal warmth in winter, as a refreshing coohiess 
 in the summer season, when the tops of the houses, which are planted with a 
 variety of flowers, exhibit at a distance the spacious view of a beautifully 
 chequered parterre." —Porster. 
 
 Lwntems of the triple-coloured tortoise-shell of Pegu. — ^P. 271. 
 " Two hundred slaves there are, who have no oiher oflace than to hunt the 
 woods and marshes for triple-coloured tortoises for the King's Vivary. Of the 
 shells of these also lanterns are made." — Vincent le Blame's Tramels. 
 
 The meteors of the north, as they are seen by those hunters. — P. 272. 
 
 For a description of the Aurora Borealis as it appears to these hunters, vide 
 Encyclopaedia. 
 
 The cold, odoriferous wind. — P. 272. 
 
 This wind, which is to blow from Syria Damasoena, is, according to the 
 Mahometans, one of the signs of the Last Day's approach. 
 
 Another of the signs is, " Great distress in the world, so that a man when 
 he passes by another's grave, shall say, Would to God I were in his place !" — 
 Sale's PreUm/inary DiscoiMrse. 
 
 The Gemleam, Throne of Koolbwrga. — P. 275. 
 
 " On Mahommed Shaw's return to Koolburga (the capital of Dekkan), he 
 made a great festival, and mounted this throne with much pom.p and magni- 
 ficence, calling it Pirozeh, or Cerulean. I have heard some old persons, who 
 saw the throne Firozeh in the reign of Sultan Mamood Bhamanee, describe it. 
 They say that it was in length nine feet, and three in breadth ; made of ebony, 
 covered with plates of pure gold, and set with precious stones of immense 
 value. Every Prince of the house of Bhamanee, who possessed this throne, 
 made a point of adding to it some rich stones ; so that when in the reign of 
 the Sultan Mamood it was taken to pieces, to remove some of the jewels to 
 be set in vases and cups, the jewellers valued it at one corore of oons (nearly 
 four millions sterling) . I learned, also, that it was called Firozeh from being 
 partly enamelled of a sky-blue colour, which was in time totally concealed by 
 the number of jewels." — Ferishta. 
 
 Edmund Evans, Engraver and Printer, Kaquet Court, Fleet Street. 
 
if 
 
 =^r^rW^^^f^WW? ■' *-■■ 
 
 f JlttJt titlt^ 
 
 m'%m%^ 
 
 
 ¥-¥-.-,¥-: