c/iowNm 
 
 LALLA 
 ROOKH 
 
m ME. 
 
 Br. Qnil G. Beck 
 1865-1932 
 
 T 
 
Laurel- Crowned Verse. 
 
 edited by 
 Francis F. Browne. 
 
 SCOTT S LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 BYRON'S CHILDE HAROLD. 
 MOORE'S LALLA ROOKH. 
 TENNYSON'S IDYLLS OF THE KING. 
 Others to follow in the series. 
 Each in 1 vol., 16mo, gilt top, $1.00. 
 
Jr. EMILG. BECK. 
 620 La Satle Avs 
 
 LALLA ROOKH 
 
 ^n (Oriental B0mance 
 
 BY 
 
 THOMAS MOORE 
 
 Neiu American lEKition 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 A. C. McClurg and Company 
 
 1891 
 
Add to Lib; 
 'GIFT 
 
 ^f 
 

 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Author's Preface 7 
 
 LALLA ROOKH 21 
 
 The Veiled Prophet of Khorassan . . 29 
 
 Paradise and the Peri 117 
 
 The Fire- Worshippers 147 
 
 The Light of the Haram 235 
 
 Author's Notes 273 
 
 M787049 
 
AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 [Written originally for ''''Lalla Bookh " in the collected edition 
 of Moore'' s works.] 
 
 The Poem, or Romance, of " Lalla Rookh " having 
 now reached, I understand, its twentieth edition, a short 
 account of the origin and progress of a work which has 
 been hitherto so very fortunate in its course may not be 
 deemed, perhaps, superfluous or misplaced. 
 
 It was about the year 1812, that, far more through 
 the encouraging suggestions of friends than from any 
 confident promptings of my own ambition, I conceived 
 the design of writing a Poem upon some Oriental sub- 
 ject, and of those quarto dimensions which Scott's suc- 
 cessful publications in that form had then rendered the 
 regular poetical standard. A negotiation on the subject 
 was opened with the Messrs. Longman in the same year ; 
 but, from some causes which I cannot now recollect, led to 
 no decisive result; nor was it till a year or two after, that 
 any further steps were taken in the matter, — their house 
 being the only one, it is right to add, with which, from 
 first to last, I held any communication upon the subject. 
 
 On this last occasion, Mr. Perry kindly offered him- 
 self as my representative in the treaty; and, what with 
 the friendly zeal of my negotiator on the one side, and 
 the prompt and liberal spirit with which he was met on 
 the other, there has seldom, I think, occurred any transac- 
 tion in which Trade and Poesy have shone out so ad- 
 vantageously in each other's eyes. The short discussion 
 
8 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 that then took place, between the two parties, may be 
 comprised in a very few sentences. " I am of opinion," 
 said Mr. Perry, — enforcing his view of the case by 
 arguments which it is not for me to cite, — " that Mr. 
 Moore ought to receive for his Poem the largest price 
 that has been given, in our day, for such a work." 
 " That was," answered the Messrs. Longman, " three 
 thousand guineas." " Exactly so," replied Mr. Perry, 
 " and no less a sum ought he to receive." 
 
 It was then objected, and very reasonably, on the part 
 of the firm, that they had never yet seen a single line of 
 the Poem ; and that a perusal of the work ought to be 
 allowed to them, before they embarked so large a sum 
 in the purchase. But, no ; — the romantic view which 
 my friend Perry took of the matter was, that this price 
 should be given as a tribute to reputation already ac- 
 quired, without any condition for a previous perusal of 
 the new work. This high tone, I must confess, not a 
 little startled and alarmed me ; but, to the honour and 
 glory of Romance — as well on the publishers' side as 
 the poet's, — this very generous view of the transaction 
 was, without any difficulty, acceded to, and the firm 
 agreed, before we separated, that I was to receive three 
 thousand guineas for my Poem. 
 
 At the time of this agreement, but little of the work, 
 as it stands at present, had yet been written. But the 
 ready confidence in my success shown by others made 
 up for the deficiency of that requisite feeling within my- 
 self; while a strong desire not wholly to disappoint this 
 " auguring hope " became almost a substitute for in- 
 spiration. In the year 1815, therefore, having made 
 some progress in my task, I wrote to report the state of 
 the work to the Messrs. Longman, adding, that I was 
 
AUTHOR'S TREFACE, 9 
 
 now most willing and ready, should they desire it, to 
 submit the manuscript for their consideration. Their 
 answer to this offer was as follows: "We are certainly 
 impatient for the perusal of the Poem ; but solely for our 
 gratification. Your sentiments are always honourable." 
 
 I continued to pursue my task for another year, being 
 likewise occasionally occupied with the "Irish Melo- 
 dies," two or three numbers of which made their ap- 
 pearance during the period employed in writing " Lalla 
 Rookh." At length, in the year 1816, I found my work 
 sufficiently advanced to be placed in the hands of the 
 publishers. But the state of distress to which England 
 was reduced, in that dismal year, by the exhausting ef- 
 fects of the series of wars she had just then concluded, 
 and the general embarrassment of all classes both agri- 
 cultural and commercial, rendered it a juncture the least 
 favourable that could well be conceived for the first 
 launch into print of so light and costly a venture as 
 " Lalla Rookh." Feeling conscious, therefore, that 
 under such circumstances I should act but honestly in 
 putting it in the power of the Messrs. Longman to recon- 
 sider the terms of their engagement with me, — leaving 
 them free to postpone, modify, or even, should such be 
 their wish, relinquish it altogether, — I wrote them a let- 
 ter to that effect, and received the following answer: 
 " We shall be most happy in the pleasure of seeing you 
 in February. We agree with you, indeed, that the 
 times are most inauspicious for * poetry and thousands ' ; 
 but we believe that your poetry would do more than that 
 of any other living poet at the present moment." 
 
 The length of time I employed in writing the few 
 stories strung together in " Lalla Rookh " will appear, 
 to some persons, much more than was necessary for the 
 
10 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 production of such easy and " light o' love " fictions. 
 But, besides that I have been, at all times, a far more 
 slow and painstaking workman than would ever be 
 guessed, I fear, from the result, I felt that in this in- 
 stance I had taken upon myself a more than ordinary 
 responsibility, from the immense stake risked by others 
 on my chance of success. For a long time, therefore, 
 after the agreement had been concluded, though gen- 
 erally at work with a view to this task, I made but very 
 little real progress in it; and I have still by me the be- 
 ginnings of several stories continued, some of them, to 
 the length of three or four hundred lines, which, after 
 in vain endeavouring to mould them into shape, I threw 
 aside, like the tale of Cambuscan, "left half -told." 
 One of these stories, entitled " The Peri's Daughter," 
 was meant to relate the loves of a nymph of this aerial 
 extraction with a youth of mortal race, the rightful 
 Prince of Ormuz, who had been, from his infancy, 
 brought up in seclusion on the banks of the river Amou, 
 by an aged guardian named Mohassan. The story opens 
 with the first meeting of these destined lovers, then in 
 their childhood ; the Peri having wafted her daughter to 
 this holy retreat, in a bright, enchanted boat, whose first 
 appearance is thus described: — 
 
 For, down the silvery tide afar, 
 There came a boat, as swift and bright, 
 
 As shines, in heaven, some pilgrim-star. 
 That leaves its own high home, at mght, 
 To shoot to distant shrines of light. 
 
 'It comes, it comes,' young Orian cries, 
 And panting to Mohassan flies. 
 Then, down upon the flowery grass 
 Beclines to see the vision pass ; 
 
-AUTHOR'S TREFACE. 11 
 
 With partly joy and partly fear. 
 To find its wondrous light so near, 
 And hiding oft his dazzled eyes 
 Among the flowers on which he lies. 
 
 Within the boat a baby slept, 
 
 Like a young pearl within its shell ; 
 While one, who seem'd of riper years. 
 But not of earth, or earth-like spheres, 
 
 Her watch beside the slumberer kept ; 
 
 Gracefully waving, in her hand. 
 The feathers of some holy bird, 
 With which, from time to time, she stirr'd 
 
 The fragrant air, and coolly fann'd 
 
 The baby's brow, or brush'd away 
 The butterflies that, bright and blue 
 
 As on the moxmtains of Malay, 
 Around the sleeping infant flew. 
 
 And now the fairy boat hath stopp'd 
 Beside the bank, — the nymph has dropp'd 
 Her golden anchor in the stream. 
 
 A song is sung by the Peri in approaching, of which 
 the following forms a part: — 
 
 My child she is but half divine, 
 Her father sleeps in the Caspian water ; 
 Sea-weeds twine 
 His funeral shrine, 
 But he lives again in the Peri's daughter. 
 Fain would I fly from mortal sight 
 
 To my own sweet bowers of Peristan ; 
 But there, the flowers are all too bright 
 
 For the eyes of a baby bom of man. 
 On flowers of earth her feet must tread ; 
 So hither my light-wing'd bark hath brought her; 
 Stranger, spread 
 Thy leafiest bed. 
 To rest the wandering Peri's daughter. 
 
12 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 In another of these inchoate fragments, a proud fe- 
 male saint, named Banou, plays a principal part; and 
 her progress through the streets of Cufa, on the night 
 of a great illuminated festival, I find thus described: — 
 
 It was a scene of mirth that drew 
 
 A smile from even the Saint Banou, 
 
 As, through the hush'd admiring throng, 
 
 She went with stately steps along, 
 
 And counted o'er, that all might see, 
 
 The rubies of her rosary. 
 
 But none might see the worldly smile 
 
 That lurk'd beneath her veil the while : — 
 
 AUa, forbid ! for, who would wait 
 
 Her blessing at the temple's gate, — 
 
 What holy man would ever run 
 
 To kiss the grovmd she knelt upon, 
 
 If once, by luckless chance, he knew 
 
 She look'd and smiled as others do ? 
 
 Her hands were join'd, and from each wrist 
 
 By threads of pearl and golden twist 
 
 Hung relics of the saints of yore, 
 
 And scraps of talismanic lore, — 
 
 Charms for the old, the sick, the frail. 
 
 Some made for use, and all for sale. 
 
 On either side, the crowd withdrew, 
 
 To let the Saint pass proudly through ; 
 
 While turban'd heads of every hue, 
 
 Green, white, and crimson, bow'd around, 
 
 And gay tiaras touched the ground, — 
 
 As tuUp-bells, when o'er their beds 
 
 The musk-wind passes, bend their heads. 
 
 Nay, some there were, among the crowd 
 
 Of Moslem heads that round her bow'd, 
 
 So fill'd with zeal by many a draught 
 
 Of Shiraz wine profanely quaff'd, 
 
 That, sinking low in reverence then, 
 
 They never rose tUl mom again. 
 
 There are yet two more of these unfinished sketches, 
 
AUTHOR'S TREFACE. 13 
 
 one of which extends to a much greater length than I 
 was aware of; and, as far as I can judge from a hasty 
 renewal of my acquaintance with it, is not incapable of 
 being yet turned to account. 
 
 In only one of these unfinished sketches, the tale of 
 "The Peri's Daughter," had I yet ventured to invoke 
 that most home-felt of all my inspirations, which has 
 lent to the story of " The Fire- Worshippers " its main 
 attraction and interest. That it was my intention, in 
 the concealed Prince of Ormuz, to shadow out some im- 
 personation of this feeling, I take for granted from the 
 prophetic words supposed to be addressed to him by his 
 aged guardian: — 
 
 Bright child of destiny ! even now 
 I read the promise on that brow, 
 That tyrants shall no more defile 
 The glories of the Green Sea Isle, 
 But Ormuz shall again be free, 
 And hail her native Lord in thee I 
 
 In none of the other fragments do I find any trace of 
 this sort of feeling, either in the subject or the person- 
 ages of the intended story; and this was the reason, 
 doubtless, though hardly known, at the time, to myself, 
 that, finding my subjects so slow in kindling my own 
 sympathies, I began to despair of their ever touching 
 the hearts of others ; and felt often inclined to say : — 
 
 ' Oh no, I have no voice or hand 
 For such a song in such a land.' 
 
 Had this series of disheartening experiments been 
 carried on much further, I must have thrown aside the 
 work in despair. But at last, fortunately, as it proved, 
 the thought occurred to me of founding a story on the 
 fierce struggle so long maintained between the Ghe- 
 
14 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 bers * or ancient Fire- Worshippers of Persia, and their 
 haughty Moslem masters. From that moment, a new 
 and deep interest in my whole task took possession of 
 me. The cause of tolerance was again my inspiring 
 theme; and the spirit that had spoken in the melodies 
 of Ireland soon found itself at home in the East. 
 
 Having thus laid open the secrets of the workshop to 
 account for the time expended in writing this work, I 
 must also, in justice to my own industry, notice the 
 pains I took in long and laboriously reading for it. To 
 form a storehouse, as it were, of illustration purely 
 Oriental, and so familiarize myself with its various 
 treasures, that, as quick as Fancy required the aid of 
 fact, in her spiritings, the memory was ready, like 
 another Ariel, at her " strong bidding," to furnish ma- 
 terials for the spell- work, — such was, for a long while, 
 the sole object of my studies; and whatever time and 
 trouble this preparatory process may have cost me, the 
 effects resulting from it, as far as the humble merit of 
 truthfulness is concerned, have been such as to repay 
 me more than sufficiently for my pains. I have not 
 forgotten how great was my pleasure, when told by the 
 late Sir James Mackintosh that he was once asked by 
 
 Colonel W s, the historian of British India, "whether 
 
 it was true that Moore had never been in the East ? " 
 "Never," answered Mackintosh. "Well, that shows 
 
 me," replied Colonel W s, "that reading over 
 
 D'Herbelot is as good as riding on the back of a camel." 
 
 * Voltaire, in his tragedy of " Les Gu^bres," written with 
 a similar under-current of meaning, was accused of having 
 transformed his Fire-Worshippers into Jansenists. " Quelques 
 figuristes," he says, "pr^tendent que les Gu^bres sont les 
 Jansenistes." 
 
AUTHOR'S TREFACE. 15 
 
 I need hardly subjoin to this lively speech, that, al- 
 though D'Herbelot's valuable work was, of course, one 
 of my manuals, I took the whole range of all such Ori- 
 ental reading as was accessible to me ; and became, for 
 the time, indeed, far more conversant with all relating 
 to that distant region, than I have ever been with the 
 scenery, productions, or modes of life of any of those 
 countries lying most within my reach. We know that 
 D'Anville, though never in his life out of Paris, was able 
 to correct a number of errors in a plan of the Troad 
 taken by De Choiseul, on the spot; and for my own very 
 different, as well as far inferior, purposes, the knowl- 
 edge I had thus acquired of distant localities, seen only 
 by me in my day-dreams, was no less ready and useful. 
 
 An ample reward for all this painstaking has been 
 found in such welcome tributes as I have just now cited; 
 nor can I deny myself the gratification of citing a few 
 more of the same description. From another distin- 
 guished authority on Eastern subjects, the late Sir John 
 Malcolm, I had myself the pleasure of hearing a sim- 
 ilar opinion publicly expressed ; — that eminent person, 
 in a speech spoken by him at a Literary Fund Dinner, 
 having remarked, that, together with those qualities of 
 a poet which he much too partially assigned to me, was 
 combined also " the truth of the historian." 
 
 Sir William Ouseley, another high authority, in giv- 
 ing his testimony to the same effect, thus notices an 
 exception to the general accuracy for which he gives 
 me credit : " Dazzled by the beauties of this composi- 
 tion [" The Fire- Worshippers "], few readers can per- 
 ceive, and none surely can regret, that the poet, in his 
 magnificent catastrophe, has forgotten, or boldly and 
 most happily violated, the precept of Zoroaster, above 
 
16 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 noticed, which held it impious to consume any portion 
 of a human body by fire, especially by that which 
 •glowed upon their altars." Having long lost, I fear, 
 most of my Eastern learning, I can only cite, in de- 
 fence of my catastrophe, an old Oriental tradition, 
 ^hich relates that Nimrod, when Abraham refused, at 
 Ms command, to worship the fire, ordered him to be 
 thrown into the midst of the flames.* A precedent 
 so ancient for this sort of use of the worshipped ele- 
 ment would appear, for all purposes at least of poetry, 
 fully sufficient. 
 
 In addition to these agreeable testimonies, I have 
 also heard, and need hardly add, with some pride and 
 pleasure, that parts of this work have been rendered 
 into Persian, and have found their way to Ispahan. To 
 this fact, as I am willing to think it, allusion is made 
 in some lively verses, written many years since, by my 
 friend Mr. Luttrell: — 
 
 ' I 'm told, dear Moore, your lays are sung, 
 
 (Can it be true, you lucky man ?) 
 By moonlight, in the Persian tongue, 
 
 Along the streets of Ispahan.' 
 
 That some knowledge of the work may have really 
 reached that region appears not improbable from a pas- 
 sage in the " Travels " of Mr. Frazer, who says, that 
 " being delayed for some time at a town on the shores 
 of the Caspian, he was lucky enough to be able to 
 amuse himself with a copy of *Lalla Rookh,' which a 
 Persian had lent him." 
 
 Of the description of Balbec, in " Paradise and the 
 
 * '*Tradunt autemHebrsei hanc fabulam, quod Abraham 
 in ignem missus sit, quia ignem adorarenoluit." — St. Hibbon, 
 in Quoest in Genesim. 
 
AUTHOR'S TREFACE. 17 
 
 Peri," Mr. Came, in his " Letters from the East," thus 
 speaks: " The description in * Lalla Rookh ' of the plain 
 and its ruins is exquisitely faithful. The minaret is on 
 the declivity near at hand, and there wanted only the 
 muezzin's cry to break the silence." 
 
 I shall now tax my reader's patience with but one 
 more of these generous vouchers. Whatever of vanity 
 there may be in citing such tributes, they show, at least, 
 of what great value, even in poetry, is that prosaic 
 quality, industry; since, as the reader of the foregoing 
 pages is now fully apprised, it was in a slow and labori- 
 ous collection of small facts, that the first foundations 
 of this fanciful Romance were laid. 
 
 The friendly testimony I have just referred to ap- 
 peared, some years since, in the form in which I now 
 give it, and, if I recollect right, in the " Athenaeum " : — 
 
 " I embrace this opportunity of bearing my individual 
 testimony (if it be of any value) to the extraordinary 
 accuracy of Mr. Moore, in his topographical, antiquarian, 
 and characteristic details, whether of costume, manners, 
 or less changing monuments, both in his ' Lalla Rookh ' 
 and in < The Epicurean.' It has been my fortune to read 
 his Atlantic, Bermudean, and American Odes and Epis- 
 tles, in the countries and among the people to which 
 and to whom they related; I enjoyed also the exquisite 
 delight of reading his * Lalla Rookh' in Persia itself; 
 and I have perused < The Epicurean ' while all my recol- 
 lections of Egypt and its still existing wonders are as 
 fresh as when I quitted the banks of the Nile for 
 Arabia: — I owe it, therefore, as a debt of gratitude 
 (though the payment is most inadequate), for the great 
 pleasure I have derived from his productions, to bear 
 my humble testimony to their local fidelity — J. S. B." 
 2 
 
18 LALLA T{OOKH, 
 
 Among the incidents connected with this work, I 
 must not omit to notice the splendid Divertissement^ 
 founded upon it, which was acted at the Chateau Royal 
 of Berlin, during the visit of the Grand Duke Nicholas 
 to that capital, in the year 1822. The different stories 
 composing the work were represented in Tableaux Vivans 
 and songs; and among the crowd of royal and noble 
 personages engaged in the performances, I shall mention 
 those only who represented the principal characters, and 
 whom I find thus enumerated in the published account 
 of the Divertissement. * 
 
 Fadladin, Grand-Nasir . . Comte Haack {Marechal de Cour). 
 
 Aliris, Roi de Bucharie . . S. A. I. le Grand-Due. 
 
 Lalla Rofikh S. A. I. la Grande-Duchesse, 
 
 A T 1 i-1 T HIT . { S. A. B. le Prince Guillaume^ 
 
 Aurungzeb, le Grand Mogol j ^^.^^ ^^ _g^ -^ 
 
 Abdallah, P6re d' Aliris . S. A. E. le Due de Cumberland. 
 _ _, . , I S. A. B. la Princesse Louise 
 
 La Reine, son Spouse . . j Jtadzivill. 
 
 Besides these and other leading personages, there 
 were also brought into action, under the various de- 
 nominations of Seigneurs et Dames de Bucharie, Dames 
 de Cachemire, Seigneurs et Dames dansans a la Fete des 
 Roses, etc., nearly 150 persons. 
 
 Of the manner and style in which the Tableaux of 
 the different stories are described in the work from 
 which I cite, the following account of the performance 
 of " Paradise and the Peri " will afford some specimen: 
 
 " La decoration reprdsentoit les portes brillantes du 
 Paradis, entour^es de nuages. Dans le premier tableau 
 
 *" Lalla Roukh, Divertissement m§l^ de Chants et de 
 Danses." Berlin, 1822. The work contains a series of coloured 
 engravings, representing groups, processions, etc., in different 
 Oriental costumes. 
 
AUTHOR'S TREFACE. 19 
 
 on voyoit la Pdrl, triste et d^sol^e, couch^e sur le seuil 
 des portes f ermdes, et I'Ange de lumi^re qui lui adresse 
 des consolations et des conseils. Le second repr^sente 
 le moment ou la Pdri, dans I'espoir que ce don lui 
 ouvrira I'entrde du Paradis, recueille la derni^re goutte 
 de sang que vient de verser le jeune guerrier indien. . . . 
 
 " La Pdri et I'Ange de lumi^re rdpondoient pleinement 
 k I'image et h. I'idde qu'on est tent^ de se faire de ces 
 deux individus, et I'impression qu'a faite gdn^ralement 
 la suite des tableaux de cet Episode d^licat et int^res- 
 sant est loin de s'effacer de notre souvenir." 
 
 In this grand /efe, it appears, originated the transla- 
 tion of "Lalla Rookh" into German* verse, by the 
 Baron de la Motte Fouqud ; and the circumstances which 
 led him to undertake the task are described by himself 
 in a Dedicatory Poem to the Empress of Russia, which 
 he has prefixed to his translation. As soon as the per- 
 formance, he tells us, had ended, Lalla Rookh (the 
 Empress herself) exclaimed, with a sigh, " Is it, then, 
 all over ? Are we now at the close of all that has 
 given us so much delight ? and lives there no poet who 
 will impart to others, and to future times, some notion 
 of the happiness we have enjoyed this evening ? " On 
 hearing this appeal, a Knight of Cashmere (who is no 
 other than the poetical Baron himself) comes forward 
 and promises to attempt to present to the world " the 
 Poem itself in the measure of the original": — where- 
 upon Lalla Rookh, it is added, approvingly smiled. 
 
 * Since this was written, another translation of "Lalla 
 Rookh " into German verse has been made by Theodor Oelck- 
 ers (Leipzig, Tauehnitz). 
 
LALLA ROOKH 
 
 In the eleventh year of the reign of Aurungzebe, 
 Abdalla, King of the Lesser Bucharia, a lineal de- 
 scendant from the Great Zingis, having abdicated 
 the throne in favour of his son, set out on a pilgrim- 
 age 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 entertained by Aurungzebe in a style of magnifi- 
 cent hospitality, worthy alike of the visitor and the 
 host, and was afterwards escorted with the same 
 splendour to Surat, where he embarked for Arabia. 
 During the stay of the Royal Pilgrim at Delhi, a 
 marriage 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 Leila, 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 cele- 
 brated 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. 
 
22 LALLA T^OOKH. 
 
 The day of Lalla Rookh's departure from Delhi 
 was as splendid as sunshine and pageantry could 
 make it. The bazaars and baths were all covered 
 with 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 in 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 
 Khoten had passed through it. The Princess, hav- 
 ing 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 considerable 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 on 
 the road to Lahore. 
 
 Seldom had the Eastern world seen a cavalcade 
 so superb. From the gardens in the suburbs to 
 the Imperial palace, it was one unbroken line of 
 splendour. The gallant appearance of the Rajahs 
 and Mogul 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 kettledrums at the bows of their saddles ; 
 — the costly armour of their cavaliers, who vied, 
 on this occasion, with the guards of the great Keder 
 
LALLA %OOKH. 23 
 
 Khan, 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-coloured veils of the Princess's own 
 sumptuous litter, at the front of which a fair young 
 female slave sat fanning her through the curtains, 
 with feathers of the Argus pheasant's wing ; — and 
 the lovely troop of Tartarian and Cashmerian maids 
 of honour, whom the young King had sent to ac- 
 company his bride, and who rode on each side of 
 the litter, upon small Arabian horses ; — all was 
 brilliant, tasteful, and magnificent, and pleased even 
 the critical and fastidious Fadladeen, Great Nazip 
 or Chamberlain of the Haram, who was borne in his 
 palankeen immediately after the Princess, and con- 
 sidered himself not the least important personage 
 of the pageant. 
 
 Fadladeen was a judge of everything, — from the 
 pencilling of a Circassian's eyelids to the deepest 
 questions of science and literature ; from the mix- 
 ture of a conserve of rose-leaves to the composition 
 of an epic poem ; and such influence had his opin- 
 ion upon the various tastes of the day, that all the 
 cooks and poets of Delhi stood in awe of him. His 
 political conduct and opinions were founded upon 
 that line of Sadi, — "Should the Prince at noon-day 
 
24 LALLA T{OOKH, 
 
 say, It is night, declare that you behold the moon 
 and stars."— And his zeal for religion, of which Au- 
 rungzebe 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 Jagher- 
 naut. 
 
 During the first days of their journey, Lalla 
 Rookh, 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 
 imagination ; 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 which the view 
 opened upon a glade covered with antelopes ; and 
 often in those hidden, embowered spots, described 
 by one from the Isles of the West, as " places of 
 melancholy, delight, and safety, where all the com- 
 pany around were wild peacocks and turtle-doves "; 
 — she felt a charm in these scenes, so lovely and so 
 new to her, which, for a time, made her indifferent 
 to every other amusement. But Lalla Rookh was 
 young, and the young love variety ; nor could the 
 conversation of her Ladies and the Great Cham- 
 berlain Fadladeen (the only persons, of course, ad- 
 mitted to her pavilion) sufficiently enliven those 
 
LALLA T{OOKH. 25 
 
 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 Rodahver ; 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 
 Bramins of the Great Pagoda to attend her, much 
 to the horror of the good Mussulman Fadladeen, 
 who could see nothing graceful or agreeable in idol- 
 aters, and to whom the very tinkling of their golden 
 anklets was an abomination. 
 
 But these and many other diversions were re- 
 peated till they lost all their charm, and the nights 
 and noon-days were beginning 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 tedious- 
 ness of the journey by some of his most agreeable re- 
 citals. At the mention of the poet, Fadladeen ele- 
 vated his critical eyebrows, and having refreshed 
 his faculties with a dose of that delicious opium 
 which is distilled from the black poppy of the 
 
26 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 Thebais, gave orders for the minstrel to be forth- 
 with introduced into the presence. 
 
 The Princess, who had once in her life seen a 
 poet from behind the screens of gauze in her 
 Father's hall, and had conceived from that speci- 
 men no very favourable ideas of the Caste, expected 
 but little in this new exhibition to interest her ; — 
 she felt inclined, however, to alter her opinion on 
 the very first appearance of Feramorz. He was a 
 youth about Lalla Rookh's own age, and graceful 
 as that idol of women, Crishna, — such as he ap- 
 pears to their young imaginations, heroic, beautiful, 
 breathing music from his very eyes, and exalting 
 the religion of his worshippers into love. His dress 
 was simple, yet not without some marks of costli- 
 ness ; and the ladies of the Princess were not long 
 in discovering that the cloth which encircled his 
 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 reci- 
 tation by music, the young Cashmerian held in his 
 
LALLA T{OOKH. 27 
 
 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 
 premised, with much humility, that the story he was 
 about to relate was founded on the adventures of 
 that Veiled Prophet of Khorassan 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, 
 Where all the loveliest children of his beam, 
 Flowerets and fruits, blush over every stream, 
 And fairest of all streams, the Murga 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, i 
 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 dazzling brow, till man could bear its light. 
 For, far less luminous, his votaries said, 
 Were even the gleams, miraculously shed 
 O'er Moussa's 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. 
 
30 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 And bless the lips that doom'd so dear a death ! 
 In hatred to the Caliph's hue of night, 
 Their vesture, helms and all, is snowy white ; 
 Their weapons various — some equipp'd, for speed, 
 With 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 ; 
 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 network, 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 Heaven hath placed you there? 
 Or that the loves of this light world could bind, 
 In their gross chain, your Prophet's soaring mind ? 
 No — wrongful 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 Heaven's native maids. 
 And crown the Elect with bliss that never fades — 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 31 
 
 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 ; 
 And Georgia's bloom, and Azab's darker smiles. 
 And the gold ringlets of the Western Isles ; 
 All, all are there ; — each Land its flower hath given, 
 To form that fair young Nursery for Heaven ! 
 
 But why this pageant now ? this arm'd array ? 
 What 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 shape and dyes. 
 Bending beneath the invisible West-wind's sighs ? 
 What new-made mystery now, for Faith to sign, 
 And blood to seal, as genuine and divine. 
 What dazzling mimickry of God's own power 
 Hath the bold Prophet plann'd to grace this hour? 
 
 Not such the pageant now, though not less proud ; 
 Yon warrior youth, advancing /from the crowd. 
 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 practised swords — 
 
32 
 
 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 Is come to join, all bravery and belief, 
 
 The creed and standard of the heaven-sent Chief. 
 
 k 
 
 Though few his years, the West already knows 
 Young Azim's fame ; — beyond the Olympian snows, 
 Ere manhood darken'd o'er his downy cheek, 
 O'erwhelm'd in fight and captive to the Greek, 
 He linger'd there, till peace dissolved his chains ; — 
 Oh, who could, even in bondage, tread the plains 
 Of glorious Greece, nor feel his spirit rise 
 Kindling within him ? who, with heart and eyes. 
 Could walk where Liberty had been, nor see 
 The shining footprints of her Deity, 
 Nor feel those godlike breathings in the air. 
 Which mutely told her spirit had been there ? 
 Not he, that youthful warrior, — no, too well 
 For his soul's quiet work'd the 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 refined, — 
 False views, like that horizon's fair deceit, 
 Where earth and heaven but seem, alas, to me6f' 1^^ 
 Soon as he heard an Arm Divine was raised 
 To right the nations, and beheld, emblazed 
 On the white flag Mokanna's host unfurl'd. 
 Those words of sunshine, ' Freedom to the World,' 
 At once his faith, his sword, his soul obey'd 
 The inspiring summons ; every chosen blade 
 That fought beneath that banner's sacred text 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 33 
 
 Seem'd doubly edged, for this world and the next ; 
 And ne'er did Faith with her smooth bandage bind 
 Eyes more devoutly willing to be blind, 
 In virtue's cause ; — never was soul inspired 
 With livelier trust in what it most desired, 
 Than his, the 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 ! 
 
 Low as young Azim knelt, that motley crowd 
 Of all earth's nations sunk the knee and bow'd. 
 With shouts of * Alia ! ' echoing long and loud ; 
 While high in air, above the Prophet's head. 
 Hundreds of banners, to the sunbeam spread, 
 Waved, like the wings of the white birds that fan 
 The flying throne of star-taught Soliman. 
 Then thus he spoke : — ' Stranger, though new the 
 
 frame 
 Thy soul inhabits now, I've tracked 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 
 3 
 
34 LALLA T^OOKH. 
 
 With duskier fire and for earth's medium f orm'd, 
 
 That run this course ; — Beings the most divine 
 
 Thus deign through dark mortality to shine. 
 
 Such was the Essence that in Adam dwelt, 
 
 To which all Heaven, except the Proud One, knelt : 
 
 Such the refined InteUigence that glow'd 
 
 In Moussa's frame, — and, thence descending, flow'd 
 
 Through many a Prophet's breast ; — in Issa shone, 
 
 And in Mohammed burn'd ; till, hastening on, 
 
 (As a bright river that, from fall to fall 
 
 In many a maze descending, bright through all, 
 
 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 the assembly, at these words, 
 Thousands of voices rung : the warriors' swords 
 "Were pointed up to heaven ; a sudden wind 
 ^^\ In the open banners play'd, and from behind 
 jjv Those Persian hangings that but ill could screen 
 
 y The Haram's loveliness, white hands were seen 
 
 A? Y Waving embroider'd scarves, whose motion gave 
 A perfume forth ; — like those the Houris wave 
 3 When beckoning to their bowers the 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, 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 35 
 
 Ere Peace can visit them, or Truth let in 
 Her wakening daylight 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 ! 
 Then, too, your 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 mine own, mine all till in the grave ! ' 
 
 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 AUa'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 promised reign 
 
36 LALLA T^OOKH. 
 
 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 thine 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, 't was sacred from that hour ; 
 When thou didst study him till every tone 
 And gesture and dear look became thine own, — 
 Thy voice like his, the changes of his face 
 In thine reflected with still lovelier grace : 
 Like echo, sending back sweet mucic, fraught 
 With twice the aerial sweetness it had brought ! 
 Yet now he comes, — brighter than even he 
 E'er beam'd before, — but ah! not bright for thee; 
 No — dread, unlook'd for, like a visitant 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 37 
 
 From the 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 I 
 But war disturb'd this vision, — far away 
 From her fond eyes summon'd to join the array 
 Of Persia's warriors on the hills of Thrace, 
 The youth exchanged his sylvan dwelling-place 
 For the rude tent and war-field's deathful clash ; 
 His Zelica's sweet glances for the flash 
 
38 LALLA T{OOKH, 
 
 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 
 Even summer 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 ! ' 
 O 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 loved to live or f ear'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, 
 Even 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 ; — 
 A wandering bark, upon whose pathway shone 
 All stars of heaven, except the guiding one ! 
 Again she smiled, nay, much and brightly smiled, 
 But 't was a lustre, strange, unreal, wild ; 
 And when she sung to her lute's touching strain. 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 
 
 39 
 
 'T was like the notes, half ecstasy, half pain, 
 The bulbul utters, ere her soul depart, % 
 
 When, vanquish'd 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 destined 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 maddening zeal she caught ; 
 Elect of Paradise ! blest, rapturous thought ! 
 Predestined bride, in heaven's eternal dome. 
 Of some brave youth — ha ! durst they say ' of some ' ? 
 No — of the one, one only object traced 
 In her heart's core too deep to be effaced ; 
 The one whose memory, fresh as life, is twined 
 With every broken link of her lost mind ; 
 Whose image lives, though Reason's seK be wreck'd. 
 Safe 'mid the ruins of her intellect ! 
 
 Alas, poor Zelica ! it needed all 
 The fantasy which held thy mind in thrall, 
 To see in that gay Haram's glowing maids 
 
40 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 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 ! 
 
 No — had not Reason's light totally set, 
 
 And left thee dark, thou hadst an amulet 
 
 In the loved image, graven on thy heart, 
 
 Which would have saved 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, inflamed, — a re' ':less zeal took place 
 
 Of the mild virgin's still ix tid feminine grace ; 
 
 First of the Prophet's favourites, — proudly first 
 
 In zeal and charms, — too well the Impostor nursed 
 
 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 subtile chains than hell itself e'er twined. 
 
 No art was spared, 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. 
 
 'T was from a brilliant banquet, where the sound 
 Of poesy and music breathed around, 
 Together picturing to her mind and ear 
 
ySILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 41 
 
 The glories of that heaven, her destined 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 forever rove 
 
 Through fields of fragrance by her Azim's side, 
 
 His own bless'd, purified, eternal bride ! — 
 
 'T was 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 crazed by dread, 
 
 Seem'd, thro' the bluish death-light round them cast, 
 
 To move their lips in mutterings as she pass'd, — 
 
 There, in that awful place, when each had quaff'd 
 
 And pledged 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 framed, 
 
 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 i 
 
 ! » 
 
 From that dread hour, entirely, wildly given 
 
42 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 To him, and — she believed, lost maid ! — to Heaven, 
 Her brain, her heart, her passions all inflamed. 
 How proud she stood, when in full Haram named 
 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 
 Gave motion, airy as the dancing spray, 
 When from its stem the small bird wings away ; 
 Lips in whose rosy labyrinth, when she smiled, 
 The soul was lost ; and blushes, swift and wild 
 As are the momentary meteors sent 
 Across the uncalm but beauteous firmament. 
 And then her look — oh, where's the heart so wise 
 Could unbewilder'd meet those matchless eyes ? 
 Quick, 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 heaven 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 changed 
 From her who, some years since, delighted ranged 
 The almond groves that shade Bokhara's tide, 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 43 
 
 All life and bliss, with Azim by her side ! 
 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 loved. 
 Had wept as dead, before her breathed and moved ; 
 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. 
 
 O Reason ! who shall say what spells renew. 
 When least we look for it, thy broken clew ! 
 Through what small vistas o'er the darken'd brain 
 Thy intellectual day-beam bursts again ; 
 And how, like forts, to which beleaguerers win 
 Unhoped-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 harbor 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 
 
44 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 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 with 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) 
 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 retired 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. 
 The Imposter, 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. 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 45 
 
 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 
 Thro' 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 loved remain, 
 But all be bright, be pure, be his again ! — 
 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, 
 
46 LALLA %OOKH. 
 
 She now went slowly to that small kiosk, 
 Where, pondering alone his impious schemes, 
 Mokanna waited her : too rapt 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 now 
 From the quick, ardent Priestess, whose light bound 
 Came like a spirit's o'er the unechoing ground, — 
 From that wild Zelica, whose every glance 
 Was thrilling fire, whose every thought a trance ! 
 
 Upon his couch the Veil'd Mokanna lay. 
 While lamps around — not such as lend their ray. 
 Glimmering and cold, to 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, fill'd with Kishmee's golden wine, 
 And the red weepings of the Shiraz vine ; 
 Of which his curtain'd lips full many a draught 
 Took zealously, as if each drop they quaff'd, 
 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 
 The approaching maid, so deep his reverie ; 
 At length, with fiendish laugh, like that which broke 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN, 47 
 
 From Eblis 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 
 
 Whom India serves, the monkey deity ; 
 
 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, blind and fierce 
 
 As hooded falcons, through the universe 
 
 I '11 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. 
 Ye shall have honours, wealth, — ^yes. Sages, yes ! 
 I know, grave fools, your wisdom's nothingness ; 
 Undazzled it can track yon starry sphere. 
 But a gilt stick, a bauble, blinds it here. 
 How I shall laugh, when trumpeted along 
 In lying speech and still more lying song. 
 By these learn'd slaves, the meanest of the throng ; 
 Their wits bought up, their wisdom shrunk so small. 
 
48 L/tLLA T{OOKH. 
 
 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, ay, sound ones too. 
 Seen, heard, attested, — everything but true. 
 Your preaching zealots, too inspired 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 vendors of the lore 
 That works salvation, — as, on Ava's shore. 
 Where none but priests are privileged to trade 
 In that best marble of which gods are made ; 
 They shall have mysteries — ay, precious stuff 
 For knaves to thrive by — mysteries enough ; 
 Dark, tangled doctrines, dark as fraud can weave, 
 Which simple votaries shall on trust receive. 
 While craftier feign belief, till they believe. 
 A Heaven, too, ye must have, ye lords of dust, 
 A splendid Paradise, pure souls, ye must : 
 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, 
 J^ The Heaven of each is but what each desires ; 
 '^'^ And, soul or sense, whate'er the object be, 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 49 
 
 Man would be man to all eternity ! 
 
 So let him — Eblis ! grant this crowning curse, 
 
 But keep him what he is, no Hell were worse.' 
 
 * O my lost soul ! ' exclaim'd the shuddering maid, 
 Whose 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 reach'd his ear, 
 ' O my lost soul ! ' there was a sound so drear. 
 So like 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. 
 The impostor turn'd to greet her — ' thou whose smile 
 Hath inspiration in its rosy beam 
 
 Beyond the 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 ! 
 What should I be without thee ? without thee 
 How dull were power, how joyless victory ! 
 Though borne by angels, if that smile of thine 
 Bless'd not my banner, 't were but half divine. 
 But why so mournful, child ? those eyes, that shone 
 All life last night — what ! — is their glory gone ? 
 4 
 
^ 
 
 50 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 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 godlike men 
 Thou 'It have to woo thee in the bowers above ; 
 Though he, 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 ! 't is 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, 
 Shall tempt the boy ; — young Mirzala's blue eyes, 
 Whose sleepy lid like snow on violets lies ; 
 Arouya's cheeks, warm as a spring-day sun, 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN , 51 
 
 And lips that, like the seal of Solomon, 
 Have magic in their pressure ; 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. 
 From 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 ! Tho' each nymph of these 
 Hath some peculiar, practised power to please. 
 Some glance or step which, at the mirror tried, 
 First charms herself, then all the world beside ; 
 There still wants one, to make the victory sure, 
 One who in every look joins every lure ; 
 Thro' whom all beauty's beams concentred pass, 
 Dazzling and warm, as thro' love's burning-glass ; 
 Whose gentle lips persuade without a word, 
 Whose words, even when unmeaning, are adored. 
 Like inarticulate breathings from a shrine. 
 Which our faith takes for granted are divine ! 
 Such is the nymph we want, all warmth and light. 
 To crown the rich temptations of to-night : 
 Such the refined 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 
 From which these words, like south winds through a 
 fence 
 
62 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 Of Kerzrah flowers, came fill'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 assured that, once plunged in, 
 Her woman's soul would know no pause in sin ! 
 
 At first, though mute she listen'd, like 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 bliss, 
 My purity, my pride, then come to this, — 
 To live, the wanton of a fiend ! to be 
 The pander of his guilt — oh, 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 loved — 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 
 To see those fires, no matter whence they rise. 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 53 
 
 Oilce 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 life 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 ! — 't is well — yes, I deserve it all ; 
 On me, on me Heavens vengeance cannot fall 
 Too heavily ; but Azim, brave and true 
 And beautiful — must he be ruin'd too ? 
 Must he 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 all truth and strength and purity ! 
 Fill up your maddening 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 his 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 debased, how sunk is she. 
 
54 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 Whom once he loved — once ! — still loves dotingly. 
 Thou laugh'st, tormentor ; what ! thou'lt brand my 
 
 name? 
 Do, do — in vain — he'll not believe my shame — 
 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 f ound'st this burning plague-spot in my heart. 
 And spread'st it — oh, so quick ! — through soul and 
 
 frame, 
 With 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 teasing hum 
 Within the crocodile's stretch'd jaws to come ! 
 And so thou 'It 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 'It fly ! — as easily may reptiles run, 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 55 
 
 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. 
 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 depth, and roused an anger there 
 That burst and lighten'd even through her despair, 
 Shrunk back, as if a blight were in the breath 
 That spoke that word, and stagger'd, 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 mortality ; 
 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 look'd out ! 
 That oath thou heard'st more lips than thine repeat ; 
 That cup — thou shudderest. Lady, — was it sweet? 
 That cup we pledged, the charnel's choicest wine. 
 Hath bound thee — ay," body and soul are 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 — 
 
* 
 
 56 LALLA T^OOKH. 
 
 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 ; 
 Or as the Nile-bird loves the slime that gives 
 That rank and venomous food on which she lives 1 — 
 
 ' And, now thou see'st my soul's angelic hue, 
 'Tis time these features were uncurtain'd, too; 
 This brow, whose light — oh, rare celestial light ! — 
 Hath been reserved to bless thy f avour'd sight ; 
 These dazzling eyes, before whose shrouded might 
 Thou 'st seen immortal Man kneel down and quake — 
 Would that they were heaven's lightnings 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 demi-gods 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 turn'd slowly round, 
 Look'd at him — shriek'd — and sunk upon the 
 ground ! 
 
LALLA T{OOKH. 67 
 
 On their arrival, next night, at the place of en- 
 campment, they were surprised and delighted to find 
 the groves all around illuminated ; some artists of 
 Yamtcheou 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 Rookh, however, who was too much occu- 
 pied by the sad story of Zelica and her lover, to 
 give a thought to anything else, except, perhaps, 
 to him who related it, hurried on through this scene 
 of splendour to her pavilion, — greatly to the mor- 
 tification of the poor artists of Yamtcheou, — 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 Feramorz was 
 introduced ; and Fadladeen, who could never make 
 up his mind as to the merits of a poet till he 
 
58 LALLA T^OOKH, 
 
 knew the religious 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 : — 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 59 
 
 Prepabe thy soul, young Azim ! — thou hast braved 
 The bands of Greece, still mighty though enslaved ; 
 Hast faced 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 smiles 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, stealing splendours, almost hid. 
 Like swords half -sheathed, beneath the downcast lid ; 
 Such, Azim, 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, thro' the Haram chambers, moving lights 
 And busy shapes proclaim the toilet's rites ; — 
 From room to room the ready handmaids hie. 
 Some skill'd to wreathe the turban tastefully, 
 Or hang the veil, in negligence of shade. 
 O'er the warm blushes of the youthful maid, 
 Who, if between the folds but one eye shone, 
 
60 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 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, 
 So bright, that in 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 moonlight to the garden beds. 
 To gather fresh, cool chaplets for their heads ; — 
 Gay creatures ! sweet, tho' mournful, 't is to see 
 How each prefers a garland from that tree 
 Which brings to mind her childhood's innocent day, 
 And the dear fields and friendships far away. 
 The maid of India, blest again to hold 
 In her full lap the Champac's leaves of gold. 
 Thinks of the time when, by the Ganges' flood. 
 Her little playmates scatter'd 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 hy a spell, — 
 The sweet Elcaya, and that courteous tree 
 Which bows to all who seek its canopy, — 
 Sees, call'd up round her by these magic scents, 
 The well, the camels, and her father's tents ; 
 
yEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 61 
 
 Sighs for the home she left with little pain, 
 And wishes ev^n 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 light and loneliness. 
 Here the way leads, o'er tessellated floors 
 Or mats of Cairo, through long corridors. 
 Where, ranged 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, send forth odorous light, 
 Like Peris' wands, when pointing out the road 
 For some pure Spirit to its blest abode : — 
 And here, at once, the glittering saloon 
 Bursts on his sight, boundless and bright as noon ; 
 Where, in the midst, reflecting back the rays 
 In broken rainbows, a fresh fountain plays 
 High as the enamell'd 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 Red Sea lie. 
 
 Here too he traces the kind visitings 
 Of woman's love, in those fair living things 
 
62 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 Of land and wave, whose fate — in bondage thrown 
 For their weak loveliness — is like her own ! 
 On one side, gleaming with a sudden grace 
 Through water brilliant as the crystal vase 
 In which it undulates, small fishes shine. 
 Like golden ingots from a fairy mine ; — 
 While, on the other, latticed lightly in 
 With odoriferous woods of Comorin, 
 Each brilliant bird that wings the air is seen : 
 Gay, sparkling loories, such as gleam between 
 The crimson blossoms of the coral tree 
 In the warm Isles of India's sunny sea : 
 Mecca's blue sacred pigeon, and the thrush 
 Of Hindostan, whose holy warblings gush, 
 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 lured them o'er the summer flood ; 
 And those that under Araby's soft sun 
 Build their high nests of budding cinnamon ; — 
 In short, all rare and beauteous things, that fly 
 Through the pure element, here calmly lie 
 Sleeping in light, like the green birds 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 even in Pleasure's porch. 
 Than the pure dwelling of a Prophet sent. 
 
yEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 63 
 
 Arm'd with Heaven's sword, for man's enfranchise- 
 ment, — 
 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 
 Of worldly sloth, — to teach him, while he lives, 
 To know no bliss but that which virtue gives. 
 And, when he dies, to leave his lofty name 
 A light, a landmark on the cliffs of fame ? 
 It was not so, Land of the generous thought 
 And daring deed, thy godlike sages taught ; f i 
 
 It was not thus, in bowers of wanton ease, 
 Thy freedom nursed her sacred energies ; 
 Oh, not beneath the enfeebling, withering glow 
 Of such dull luxury did those myrtles grow. 
 With which she wreathed her sword, when she 
 
 would dare 
 Immortal deeds ; but in 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, 
 
 d^ 
 
 cl 
 
64 LALLA T^OOKH. 
 
 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 
 Hath sent to break the wizard Falsehood's rod, 
 A Prophet of the Truth, whose mission draws 
 Its rights from Heaven, should thus profane its cause 
 With the world's vulgar pomp ; — 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, 't will stand the blaze ! ' 
 
 So thought the youth ; — but, even while he defied 
 This witching scene, he felt its witchery glide 
 Thro' 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 Nilica, 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 : 
 Soften' d he sunk upon a couch, and gave 
 His soul up to sweet thoughts, like wave on wave 
 Succeeding in smooth seas, when storms are laid : 
 He thought of Zelica, his own dear maid. 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 65 
 
 And of the time when, full of blissful 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 loved mistress, — thou whose spirit still 
 Is with me, round me, wander where I will, — 
 It is for thee, for thee alone I seek 
 The paths of glory ; to light up thy cheek 
 With warm approval — in that gentle look 
 To read my praise, as in an angel's book. 
 And think all toils rewarded, when from thee 
 I gain a smile worth immortality ! 
 How shall I bear the moment when restored 
 To that young heart where I alone am lord. 
 Though of such bliss unworthy — since the best 
 Alone deserve to be the happiest, — 
 When from those lips, unbreathed upon for years, 
 I shall again kiss off the soul-felt tears, 
 And find those tears warm as when last they started, 
 Those sacred kisses pure as when we parted ? 
 O my own life ! — why should a single day, 
 A moment, keep me from those arms away ? ' 
 
 While thus he thinks, still nearer on the breeze 
 Come those delicious, dream-like harmonies. 
 Each note of which but adds new downy links 
 To the soft chain in which his spirit sinks. 
 He turns him toward the sound, and far away 
 Through a long vista sparkling with the play 
 
66 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 Of countless lamps, — like 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 chain'd together in the mazy dance 
 By fetters, forged in the green sunny bowers, 
 As they were captives to the King of Flowers ; 
 And some disporting round, unlink'd and free, 
 Who seem'd 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 walk'd, as gracefully along 
 Their feet kept time, the very soul of song. 
 From 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, — 
 Beckoning them back in vain, for they are gone, 
 And she is left in all that light alone ; 
 No veil to curtain o'er her beauteous brow, 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 67 
 
 In its young bashfulness more beauteous now ; 
 But a light golden chain-work round her hair, 
 Such as the maids of Yezd and Shiras wear, 
 From which, on either side, gracefully hung 
 A golden amulet, in the Arab 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 touch'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-tamed antelope, more near. 
 Though shrinking still, she came ; then sat her 
 
 down 
 Upon a musnud's edge, and, bolder grown, 
 In the pathetic mode of Isfahan 
 Touch'd a preluding strain, and thus began : 
 
 There's a bower of roses by Bendemeer's stream, 
 And the nightingale sings round it all the day long; 
 
 In the time of my childhood 'twas like a sweet dream 
 To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song. 
 
 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 ? 
 
68 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 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 't was then to mine 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 little know'st the art ; 
 For though thy lip should sweetly counsel wrong. 
 Those vestal eyes would disavow its song. 
 But thou hast breathed such purity, thy lay 
 Returns so fondly to youth's virtuous day, 
 And leads thy soul — if e'er it wander'd thence — 
 So gently back to its first innocence, 
 That I would sooner stop the unchain'd 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 light blue 
 That veil'd the breezy casement, countless eyes, 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASS/iN. 69 
 
 Peeping like stars through the blue evening skies, 
 Look'd laughing in, as if to mock the pair 
 That sat so still and melancholy there : — 
 And now the curtains fly apart, and in 
 From the cool air, 'mid showers of jessamine 
 Which those without fling after them in play. 
 Two lightsome maidens spring — lightsome as they 
 Who live in the air on odours, — 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 like love's warm pursuit : — 
 While she, who sung so gently to the lute 
 Her dream of home, steals timidly away. 
 Shrinking 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 see again ! 
 
 Around the white necks of the nymphs who danced 
 Hung carcanets of orient gems, that glanced 
 More brilliant than the sea-glass glittering 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. 
 Rung round their steps, at every bound more sweet. 
 As 't were the ecstatic language of their feet. 
 
70 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 At length the chase was o'er, and they stood wreathed 
 Within each other's arms ; while soft there breathed 
 Through the cool casement, mingled with the sighs 
 Of moonlight flowers, music that seem'd to rise 
 From some still lake, so liquidly 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: 
 
 Where 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 — oh, they resemble 
 
 Blue water-lilies, when the breeze 
 
 Is making the stream around them tremble. 
 
 Hail to thee, hail to thee, kindling 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; 
 
 By the tear that shows 
 
 When passion is nigh. 
 As the rain-drop flows 
 
 From the heat of the sky; 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 71 
 
 By the first love-beat 
 
 Of the youthful heart, 
 By the bliss to meet, 
 
 And the pain to part; 
 
 By all that thou hast 
 
 To mortals given, 
 Which — oh, could it last, 
 
 This earth were heaven, — 
 
 We call thee hither, entrancing Power! 
 
 Spirit of Love! Spirit of Bliss! 
 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 
 Could call up into life, of soft and fair, 
 Of fond and passionate, was glowing there ; 
 Nor yet too warm, but touch'd with that fine art 
 Which paints of pleasure but the purer part ; 
 
72 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 Which knows even Beauty when half-veil'd 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, in whose bright eyes 
 He read that to be blest is to be wise ; 
 Here fond Zuleika 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 ; 
 And 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. 
 
 With rapid step, yet pleased and lingering eye, 
 Did the youth pass these pictured 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. 
 Here paused he, while the music, now less near, 
 Breathed with a holier 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 unmoved, 
 And by that light, nor dream of her he loved ? 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 73 
 
 Dream on, unconscious boy ! while yet thou mayst ; 
 'T is the last bliss thy soul shall ever taste. 
 Clasp yet awhile her image to thy heart, 
 Ere all the light 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 still bower she waits thee now. 
 With the same glow of heart and bloom of brow, 
 Yet shrined 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 destroy'd ! 
 
 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 glittering o'er 
 With gems and wreaths, such as the others wore, 
 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 
 
74 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 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 waked before ; 
 Unconsciously he opes his arms, while she j 
 
 Springs forward, as with life's last energy. 
 But, swooning in that one convulsive bound, 
 Sinks, ere she reach his arms, upon the ground ; 
 Her veil falls off : her faint hands clasp his knees : 
 'T is she herself ! — 't is Zelica he sees ! 
 But, ah, so pale, so changed — none but a lover 
 Could in that wreck of beauty's shrine discover 
 The once adored divinity, — even he 
 Stood for some moments mute, and doubtingly 
 Put back the ringlets from her brow, and gazed 
 Upon those lids, where once such lustre blazed, 
 Ere he could think she was indeed his own. 
 Own darling maid whom he so long had known 
 In joy and sorrow, beautiful in both ; 
 Who, even when grief was heaviest — when loth 
 He left her for the wars — in that worst hour 
 Sat in her sorrow like the sweet night-flower. 
 When darkness brings its weeping glories out, 
 And spreads its sighs like frankincense about. 
 
 * Look up, my Zelica ! — one moment show 
 Those gentle eyes to me, that I may know 
 Thy life, thy loveliness is not all gone. 
 But there, at least, shines as it ever shone. 
 
yEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 76 
 
 Come, look upon thine Azim, — one dear glance, 
 Like those of old, were heaven ! whatever chance 
 Hath brought thee here, oh, 't was a blessed one ! 
 There — ^my loved lips — 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 Zelica once more ! ' 
 
 It was indeed the touch of those fond lips 
 Upon her eyes that chased their short eclipse ; 
 And, gradual as the snow, at Heaven's breath. 
 Melts off and shows the azure flowers beneath, 
 Her lids unclosed, and the bright eyes were seen 
 Gazing on his — not, as they late had been, 
 Quick, restless, wild, but mournfully serene ; 
 As if to lie, even for that tranced minute. 
 So near his heart, had consolation in it ; 
 And thus to wake in his beloved 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. 
 Said, in a tone whose anguish would have riven 
 A heart of very marble, ' Pure ! — O Heaven ! ' 
 
76 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 That tone — those looks so changed — the wither- 
 ing 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, 
 'T is done — to Heaven and him she's lost forever I 
 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 toward Heaven ; * tho' I am lost, 
 Think not that guilt, that falsehood made me fall : 
 No, no — 't was grief, 't was madness did it all ! 
 Nay, doubt me not ; though all thy love hath ceased — 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 77 
 
 I know it hath — yet, yet believe, at least, 
 That every spark of reason's light must be 
 Quench'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 thine absence — o'er and o'er again 
 Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew pain, 
 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. 
 Mine eyes still turn'd the way thou wert to come, 
 And, all the long, long night of hope and fear, 
 Thy voice and step still sounding in mine ear — 
 O God ! thou wouldst not wonder that, at last, 
 When every hope was all at once o'ercast. 
 When I heard frightful voices round me say, 
 Azim is dead ! — this wretched brain gave way, 
 And I became a wreck, at random driven. 
 Without one glimpse of reason or of Heaven — 
 All wild — and even 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, thou 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, 
 
78 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 Where blest at length, if I but served Mm here, 
 I should forever live in thy dear sight, 
 And drink from those pure eyes eternal light. 
 Think, think how lost, how madden'd 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 off 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, 
 Shrined in my soul's deep memory till I die ; 
 The last of joy's last relics here below. 
 The one sweet drop, in all this waste of woe, 
 My heart has treasured from affection's spring, 
 To soothe and cool its deadly withering ! 
 But thou — yes, thou must go — forever go ; 
 This place is not for thee — for thee ! oh, no ! 
 Did I but tell thee half, thy tortured brain 
 Would burn like mine, and mine grow wild again ! 
 Enough, that Guilt reigns here — that hearts, once 
 
 good. 
 Now tainted, chill'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 Hell from Heaven, to all eternity ! ' 
 
 ' Zelica, Zelica ! ' the youth exclaim'd, 
 In all the tortures of a mind inflamed 
 Almost to madness — 'by that sacred Heaven, 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 79 
 
 Where yet, if prayers can move, thoult 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 churchyard light, still burns 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 ? oh, bliss ! 
 'T is 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 
 When we were both so happy, both so pure ? — 
 Too heavenly dream ! if there's on earth a cure 
 For the sunk heart, 't is this — day after day 
 To be the blest companion of thy way ; 
 To hear thine angel eloquence — to see 
 Those virtuous eyes forever turn'd on me ; 
 And, in their light re-chasten'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 ; 
 
80 LALLA T^OOKH. 
 
 Till the good angels, when they see me cling 
 Forever 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 '11 fly 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 't was to both — 
 Rung through the casement near : ' Thine oath ! 
 thine oath ! ' 
 
 Heaven, the ghastliness of that maid's look ! 
 
 ' 'T is he ! ' faintly she cried, while terror shook 
 Her inmost core, nor durst she lift her eyes, 
 Tho' thro' the casement now nought but the skies 
 And moonlit fields were seen, calm as before, — 
 ' 'T is he, and I am his — all, all is o'er ! 
 Go — fly this instant, or thou'rt ruin'd too — 
 Mine oath, mine oath ! O God ! 't is all too true ! 
 True as the worm in this cold heart it is — 
 
 1 am Mokanna's bride — his, Azim, his ! 
 
 The Dead stood round us, while I spoke that vow ; 
 Their blue lips echoed it — I hear them now ! 
 Their eyes glared on me while I pledged that bowl : 
 'T was burning blood — I feel it in my soul ! 
 And the Veil'd Bridegroom — hist! I've seen to- 
 night 
 What angels know not of — so foul a sight, 
 So horrible — oh, never may'st thou see 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 81 
 
 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 light, 
 Fleetly as some dark ominous bird of night 
 Across the sun, and soon was out of sight ! 
 
82 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 Lalla Rookh could think of nothing all day 
 but the misery of these two young lovers. Her 
 gayety 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 Feramorz ; 
 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 sweet- 
 ness 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 lighted a small lamp, filled with oil of cocoa, 
 and, placing it in an earthen dish, adorned with a 
 wreath of flowers, had committed it with a trem- 
 bling 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 curiosity ; — when one of her 
 attendants, who had lived upon the banks of the Gan- 
 ges (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 Sea 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 
 
LALLA T{OOKH. 83 
 
 return. If the lamp sunk immediately, the omen 
 was disastrous ; but if it went shining down the 
 stream, and continued to burn until entirely out of 
 sight, the return of the beloved object was consid- 
 ered as certain. 
 
 Lalla 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 mel- 
 ancholy which comes over the youthful maiden's 
 heart, as sweet and transient as her own breath 
 upon a mirror ; nor was it till she heard the lute 
 of Feramorz, 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 even- 
 ing, and all listened with eagerness, while the story 
 was thus continued : — 
 
84 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 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 pillar'd halls of Chilminar, 
 Had conjured up, far as the eye can see. 
 This world of tents, and domes, and sun-bright 
 
 armory : 
 Princely pavilions, screen'd by many a fold 
 Of crimson cloth, and topp'd with balls of gold ; 
 Steeds, with their housings of rich silver spun, 
 Their chains and poitrels, glittering in the sun ; 
 And camels, tufted o'er with Yemen's shells. 
 Shaking in every breeze their light-toned bells ! 
 
 But yester-eve, so motionless around. 
 So mute was this wide plain, that not a sound 
 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 cavalry ; 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, 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 85 
 
 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 the Abyssinian trumpet, swell and float. 
 
 Who leads this mighty army ? — ask ye who ? 
 And mark ye not those banners of dark hue, 
 The Night and Shadow, over yonder tent ? 
 It is the Caliph's glorious armament. 
 Roused in his Palace by the dread alarms, 
 That hourly came, of the false Prophet's arms. 
 And of his host of infidels, who hurl'd 
 Defiance fierce at Islam and the world, — 
 Though worn with Grecian warfare, and behind 
 The veils of his bright Palace calm reclined, 
 Yet brook'd he not such blasphemy should stain, 
 Thus unrevenged, the evening of his reign ; 
 But, having sworn upon the Holy Grave 
 To conquer or to perish, once more gave 
 His shadowy banners proudly to the breeze, 
 And with an army nursed 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 even when on his way 
 To Mecca's Temple, when both land and sea 
 Were spoil'd to feed the Pilgrim's luxury ; 
 When round him, 'mid the burning sands, he saw 
 
86 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 Fruits of the North in icy freshness thaw, 
 And cool'd his thirsty lip, 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 Caliphat. 
 First, in the van, the People of the Rock, 
 On their light mountain steeds, of royal stock ; 
 Then, chieftains of Damascus, proud to see 
 The flashing of their swords' rich marquetry ; 
 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. 
 From 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, fired by zeal, or by oppression wrong'd. 
 Round the white standard of the 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 the Uzbek race. 
 Waving their heron crests with martial grace ; 
 V Turkomans, countless as their flocks, led forth 
 C' From the aromatic pastures of the North ; 
 
 J o Wild warriors of the turquoise hills, — and those 
 
 Who dwell beyond the everlasting snows 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 87 
 
 Of Hindoo Kosh, 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, — all panting then 
 For vengeance on the accursed Saracen, — 
 Vengeance at last for their dear country spurn'd, 
 Her 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 tost 
 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 risen again, and found them grappling yet ; 
 While streams of carnage, in his noontide blaze, 
 Smoke up to Heaven — hot as that crimson haze 
 By which the prostrate Caravan is awed, 
 In the red Desert, when the wind's abroad. 
 
88 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 * On, Swords of God ! ' the panting Caliph 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 its grasp — when, hark ! that shout ! 
 Some hand hath check'd the flying Moslem's 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 ; 
 And, at each step, his bloody falchion makes 
 Terrible vistas through which victory breaks ! 
 In vain Mokanna, 'midst the general flight. 
 Stands, 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. 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 89 
 
 All gazing on that youth, whose coming seems 
 A light, a glory, such as breaks in dreams ; 
 And every sword, true as o'er billows dim 
 The needle tracks the lodestar, following him ! 
 
 Right towards Mokanna now he cleaves his path, 
 Impatient cleaves, as though the bolt of wrath 
 He bears from Heaven withheld its awful burst 
 From weaker heads, and souls but half-way curst. 
 To 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 even him along ; 
 In vain he struggles 'mid the wedged array 
 Of flying thousands — he is borne away ; 
 And the sole joy his baffled spirit knows. 
 In this forced flight, is — murdering as he goes ! 
 As a grim tiger, whom the torrent's might 
 Surprises in some parch'd ravine at night. 
 Turns, even in drowning, on the wretched flocks. 
 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. 
 
90 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 And light your shrines and chant your ziraleets. 
 The swords of God have triumph'd — on his throne 
 Your Caliph 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 all the graceful gratitude of power, 
 For his throne's safety in that perilous hour ? 
 Who doth not wonder, when, amidst the acclaim 
 Of thousands, heralding to Heaven his name, 
 'Mid all those holier 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 ? 
 Yes, wretched Azim ! thine is such a grief, 
 Beyond all hope, all terror, all relief ; 
 A dark, cold calm, which nothing now can break, 
 Or warm or brighten — like that Syrian Lake, 
 Upon whose surface morn and summer 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, even then, o'er joys so freshly blown, 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 91 
 
 This mortal blight of misery came down ; 
 Even 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 fix'd and chill'd 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 loved 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 the attack 
 Of the Yeil'd Chief — for this he wing'd him back, 
 Fleet as the vulture speeds to flags unfurl'd, 
 And, when all hope seem'd desperate, wildly hurl'd 
 Himself into the scale, and saved a world. 
 For this he still lives on, careless of all 
 The wreaths that Glory on his path lets fall ; 
 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 — breathed a short curse of blood 
 O'er his lost throne — then pass'd the Jihon's flood, 
 And gathering all whose madness of belief 
 Still saw a Saviour in their down-fallen Chief, 
 
92 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 Raised the white banner within Neksheb's gates, 
 And there,untamed,the 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 ; 
 No, Zelica stood withering 'midst the gay, 
 Wan as the blossom that fell yesterday 
 From the Alma tree and dies, while overhead 
 To-day's young flower is springing in its stead. 
 Oh, 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 ; there lie all 
 Her charms for him — charms that can never pall, 
 As long as Hell 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 lies, 
 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 
 
( 
 
 VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 93 
 
 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 dark, 
 Those lanterns, countless as the winged lights 
 That spangle India's fields on showery nights ; 
 Far as their formidable gleams they shed. 
 The mighty tents of the beleaguerer spread, 
 Glimmering along the 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 views that multitude of tents, — 
 Nay, smiles to think that, though entoil'd, beset. 
 Not less than myriads dare to front him yet ; 
 That friendless, throneless, he thus stands at bay, 
 Even thus a match for myriads such as they. 
 ' Oh, for a sweep of that dark Angel's wing 
 Who brush'd the thousands of the 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 even 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 
 
94 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 » 
 
 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 Parviz, and the heron crest that shone 
 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, 
 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, 
 Fron^ 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 
 Of many a dome and fair-roof d minaret 
 As autumn suns shed round them when they set. 
 Instant, from all who saw the illusive sign 
 A murmur broke — ' Miraculous ! divine ! ' 
 The Gheber bow'd, thinking his idol star 
 Had waked and burst impatient through the bar 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 95 
 While he of Moussa's creed saw, in that ray, \\ (jni 
 
 Of midnight, to inflame him to the war 
 
 t ray. 
 
 Had rested on the Ark, and now again J 
 
 The glorious Light which, in his freedom's day, - |^V 
 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, like 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 paused, and even forgot the punctual sounds 
 Of the small drum with which they count the night, 
 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 light yon lofty screen. 
 Nor blunt your blades with massacre so mean ; 
 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 thro' the glimmering shade. 
 And, as the clash is heard, new legions soon 
 Pour to the spot, like bees of Kauzeroon 
 To the shrill timbril's summons, — till at length 
 The mighty camp swarms out in all its strength. 
 
^ 
 
 96 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 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, like 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 dash'd his brow, nor check'd his daring? No. 
 Though half the wretches whom at night he led 
 To thrones and victory lie disgraced 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 ; alchymists may doubt 
 The shining gold their crucible gives out ; 
 But Faith, fanatic Faith, once wedded fast 
 To some dear falsehood, hugs it to the last. 
 
 And well the 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. 
 Ill-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 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 97 
 
 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 solemn 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 living thrill, 
 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 ; 
 And led her glittering forth before the eyes 
 Of his rude train, as to a sacrifice, — 
 Pallid as she, the young devoted Bride 
 Of the fierce Nile, when, deck'd 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. 
 Amid that gazing crowd, the fiend would tell 
 His credulous slaves it was some charm or spell 
 Possess'd her now, — and from that darken'd trance 
 Should daWn ere long their Faith's deliverance ; 
 Or if, at times, goaded by guilty shame, 
 7 
 
98 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 Her soul was roused, 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, 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 promised 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 
 Enwreathed with smoky flames thro' the dark sky, 
 And red-hot globes, that, opening as they mount. 
 Discharge, as from a kindled Naptha fount. 
 Showers of consuming fire o'er all below, — 
 Looking, as through the illumined night they go, 
 Like those wild birds that by the Magians oft, 
 At festivals of fire, were sent aloft 
 Into the air, with blazing fagots tied 
 To their huge wings, scattering combustion wide. 
 All night the groans of wretches who expire 
 In agony, beneath these darts of fire, 
 Ring through the eity ; 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 unroll'd, — 
 
yEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN, 99 
 
 Its beauteous marble baths, whose idle jets 
 Now gush with blood, — and its tall 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 hold 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 
 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 lid 
 Could, 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 
 
100 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 All earth shall feel the unveiling of this brow ! 
 To-night, — yes, sainted men ! this very night, 
 I bid you all- to a fair festal rite. 
 Where, having deep refresh'd 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, seal'd with precious musk, for those they love, 
 I will 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 supplies 
 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 ! '— 
 * To-night ! ' their Chief re-echoes in a voice 
 Of fiend-like 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, 
 Faint, dying wretches clung, from whom the shout 
 Of triumph like a maniac's laugh broke out ; — 
 There, others, lighted by the smouldering fire, 
 Danced like wan ghosts about a funeral pyre, 
 Among the dead and dying, strew'd around ; — 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 101 . 
 
 While some pale wretch look'd on, and from his 
 
 wound 
 Plucking the fiery dart by which he bled 
 In ghastly transport waved it o'er his head ! 
 
 'T was 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 Zelica — alas, poor ruin'd heart. 
 In every horror doom'd to bear its part ! — 
 Was bidden to the banquet by a slave, 
 Who, while his quivering lip 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. 
 Roused every feeling, and brought Reason back 
 Once more, to writhe her last upon the rack. 
 All round seem'd tranquil — even the foe had ceased, 
 As if aware of that demoniac feast, 
 His fiery bolts ; and though the heavens look'd red, 
 'T was but some distant conflagration's spread. 
 But hark ! she stops, she listens — dreadful tone ! 
 'T is her Tormentor's laugh ! — and now a groan, 
 A long death-groan comes 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 glimmering light 
 
102 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 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 livid guests. 
 With their swollen 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. 
 Remorse the deadlier torment of the two ! 
 While some, the bravest, hardiest of 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, — 
 Upon that mocking Fiend, whose Veil, now raised, 
 Show'd them, as in death's agony they gazed — 
 Not the long-promised light, the brow whose beaming 
 Was to come forth, all conquering, all redeeming, 
 B ut fea tures horribler than Hell e'er traced 
 On its own brood : no Demon of the Waste, 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 103 
 
 No churchyard Ghole caught lingering in the light 
 
 Of the blest sun, e'er blasted human sight 
 
 With lineaments so foul, so fierce as those 
 
 The 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 disgraced 
 
 Even monstrous man, is — after God's own taste ; 
 
 And that — but see ! ere I have half-way said 
 
 My greetings through, the uncourteous souls are fled. 
 
 Farewell, sweet spirits ; not in vain ye die. 
 
 If Eblis loves you half so well as I. — 
 
 Ha, my young bride ! 't is well, take thou thy seat ; 
 
 Nay, come, no shuddering, didst thou never meet 
 
 The dead before ? — they graced our wedding, sweet ; 
 
 And these, my guests to-night, have brimm'd so 
 
 true 
 Their parting cups, that thou shalt pledge one too. 
 But — how 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' veins ; — 
 Here, drink, and should thy lover's conquering arms 
 Speed hither, ere thy lip lose all its charms, 
 Give him but half this venom in thy kiss, 
 And I'll forgive my haughty rival's bliss ! 
 
104 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 ' For me — I too must die, but not like these 
 Vile rankling things, to fester in the breeze, 
 To have this brow in ruffian triumph shown, 
 With all Death's grimness added to its own, 
 And rot to dust beneath the taunting eyes 
 Of slaves, exclaiming, " There his Godship lies ! " 
 No, cursed race ! since first my soul drew breath. 
 They 've been my dupes, and shall be e'en in death. 
 Thou seest yon cistern in the shade, — 't is fiU'd 
 With burning drugs, for this last hour distill'd : 
 There will 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 ! 
 / 1 So shall they build me altars in their zeal, 
 I Where knaves shall minister, and fools shall kneel ; 
 j I Where Faith may mutter o'er her mystic spell, 
 j \ Written in blood, and Bigotry may swell 
 
 The sail he spreads for Heaven with blasts from Hell! 
 So shall my banner, through 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 bliss in life. 
 But hark ! their battering engine shakes the wall — 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 105 
 
 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 'It 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 closed 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 cursed with breath, 
 In all that frightful wilderness of death ! 
 More like 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 carcass, watching it. 
 
 But morn is up, and a fresh warfare stirs 
 Throughout the camp of the beleaguerers. 
 Their globes of fire — the dread artillery lent 
 By Greece to conquering Mahadi — are spent ; 
 And now the scorpion's shaft, the quarry sent 
 From high ballistas, and the shielded throng 
 Of soldiers swinging the huge ram along. 
 All speak the 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 in impatience and in toil is he, 
 The burning Azim — oh, could he but see 
 
106 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 The 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 heartiness 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 Neksheb is our own ! ' 
 'Tis done — the battlements come crashing down, 
 And the huge wall, by that stroke riven in two. 
 Yawning, like some old crater rent anew, 
 Shows the dim desolate city smoking through. 
 But strange ! no signs of life — nought living 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 awhile. — 
 Just then, a figure, with slow step advanced 
 Forth from the ruin'd walls, and as there glanced 
 A sunbeam over it, all eyes could see 
 The well-known Silver Veil!— ''Tis He, 'tis He, 
 Mokanna, and alone ! ' they shout around ; 
 Young Azim from his steed springs to the ground — 
 'Mine, Holy Caliph! mine,' he cries, 'the task 
 To crush yon daring wretch — 'tis all I ask!* 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 107 
 
 Eager he darts to meet the demon foe, 
 Who still across wide heaps of ruin slow 
 And f alteringly comes, till they are near ; 
 Then, with a bound, rushes on Azim's spear, 
 And casting off the Veil in falling, shows — 
 Oh ! — 't is his Zelica's life-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, 
 ' I meant not thou shouldst have the pain of this : 
 Though death, with thee thus tasted, is a bliss 
 Thou wouldst not rob me of, didst thou but know 
 How oft I 've pray'd to God I might die so ! 
 But the Fiend's venom was too scant and slow : 
 To linger on were maddening, and I thought 
 If once that Veil — nay, look not on it ! — caught 
 The eyes of your fierce soldiery, I should be 
 Struck by a thousand death-darts instantly. 
 But this is sweeter — oh, believe me, yes — 
 I would not change this sad but dear caress, 
 This death within thine arms I would not give 
 For the most smiling life the happiest live ! 
 All that stood dark and drear before the eye 
 Of my stray'd soul, is passing swiftly by ; 
 A light comes o'er me from those looks of love. 
 Like the first dawn of mercy from above ; 
 And if thy lips but tell me I'm forgiven, 
 Angels will echo the blest words in Heaven ! 
 
108 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 But live, mine Azim ; — oh, to call thee mine 
 
 Thus once again ! rnine Azim — dream divine ! 
 
 Live, if thou ever lovedst 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 lips and hearts without a stain. 
 
 As thine are, Azim, never breathed 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 twined 
 
 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 mayst thou feel again 
 For thy poor Zelica as thou didst then. 
 So shall thine orisons, like dew that flies 
 To Heaven upon the morning's sunshine, rise 
 With all love's earliest ardour 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, 
 Reveal their joy to those they love in this — 
 I '11 come to thee — in some sweet dream — and tell — 
 Oh, Heaven ! — I die — dear love ! farewell, farewell ! ' 
 
VEILED TROPHET OF KHORASSAN. 109 
 
 Time fleeted, — years on years had pass'd away. 
 And few of those who on that mournful day 
 Had stood, with pity in their eyes, to see 
 The maiden's death and the youth's agony, 
 Were living still, — when, by a rustic grave, 
 Beside the swift Amoo's transparent wave, 
 An aged man, who had grown aged there 
 By that lone grave, morning and night in prayer, 
 For the last time knelt down ; and, tho' the shade 
 Of death hung darkening over him, there play'd 
 A gleam of rapture on his eye and cheek. 
 That brighten'd even Death — like the last streak 
 Of intense glory on the horizon's brim. 
 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 breathed his thanks, — and died. 
 And there, upon the banks of that loved tide, 
 He and his Zelica sleep side by side. 
 
110 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 The story of the Veiled Prophet of Khorassan 
 being ended, they were now doomed to hear Fad- 
 ladeen's criticisms upon it. A series of disappoint- 
 ments 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 Mazagong was, of course, impossible. In 
 the next place, the elephant, laden with his fine an- 
 tique 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 favour- 
 ite pigeon used to nestle, had been mislaid by his 
 Koran-bearer three whole days ; not without much 
 spiritual alarm to Fadladeen, who, though profess- 
 ing to hold, with other loyal and orthodox Mussul- 
 mans, 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 par- 
 ticular copy of it. When to all these grievances is 
 added the obstinacy of the cooks, in putting the 
 
LALLA T{OOKH. Ill 
 
 pepper of Canara into his dishes instead of the cin- 
 namon of Serendib, we may easily suppose that he 
 came to the task of criticism with, at least, a suffi- 
 cient degree of irritability 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 ! " ex- 
 claimed 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 will, I have no doubt, be abundantly edi- 
 fying, without any further waste of your valuable 
 erudition." — "If that be all," replied the critic, 
 evidently mortified at not being allowed to show 
 how much he knew about everything but the sub- 
 ject immediately before him, " if that be all that is 
 required, the matter is easily despatched." He then 
 proceeded to analyze 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, 
 
112 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 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 thou- 
 sands of lines as indigestible as the filberts of Ber- 
 daa, our friend in the veil jumps into a tub of 
 aquafortis ; the young lady dies in a set speech, 
 whose only recommendation is that it is her last ; 
 and the lover lives on to a good old age for the 
 laudable purpose of seeing her ghost, which he at 
 last happily accomplishes, and expires. This, you 
 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 abilities for story- 
 telling." 
 
 With respect to the style, it was worthy of the 
 matter ; — it had not even those politic contrivances 
 of structure which make up for the commonness of 
 the thoughts by the peculiarity of the manner, nor 
 that stately poetical phraseology by which senti- 
 ments mean in themselves, like the blacksmith's 
 apron converted into a banner, are so easily gilt 
 and embroidered into consequence. Then, as to 
 the versification, it was, to say no worse of it, exe- 
 crable : 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 heavi- 
 ness of its movements, to have been modelled upon 
 the gait of a very tired dromedary. The licenses, 
 
LALLA TiOOKH. 113 
 
 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 Fadladeen, "and 
 has his full complement of fingers to count withal, 
 would tolerate for an instant such syllabic super- 
 fluities ? " — 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 Chamberlain, before Lalla Rookh could ven- 
 ture to ask for another story. The youth was still 
 a welcome guest in the pavilion — to one 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 re- 
 spect for Fadladeen, yet his censures, thus magis- 
 terially delivered, evidently made an impression on 
 them all. The Poet himself, to whom criticism 
 8 
 
114 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 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 Fadladeen said, from its 
 having sent 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, extinguished a Poet. Lalla Rookh 
 alone — and Love knew why — 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 un- 
 lucky. 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 eyes are 
 closed forever! " — that she took occasion, from the 
 melancholy beauty of this passage, to dwell upon 
 the charms of poetry in general. " It is true," she 
 said, "few poets can imitate that sublime bird, 
 which flies always in the air, and never touches the 
 earth : — it is only once in many ages a Genius ap- 
 pears, whose words, like those on the Written 
 Mountain, last forever ; but still there are some, as 
 delightful, perhaps, though not so wonderful, who, 
 if not stars over our head, are at least flowers along 
 
LALLA T{OOKH, 115 
 
 our path, and 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 in an oration, "it 
 is quite cruel that a poet cannot wander through 
 his regions of enchantment, without having a critic 
 forever, like the Old Man of the Sea, upon his 
 back!" — Fadladeen, 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, glanc- 
 ing a look at Feramorz, saw plainly she must wait 
 for a more courageous moment. 
 
 But the glories of Nature and her wild fragrant 
 airs, playing 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 progress to Cashmere some years be- 
 fore ; and never was there a more sparkling assem- 
 blage 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 religion, has 
 ever consecrated, — from the dark hyacinth, to 
 which Hafez compares his mistress's hair, to the 
 Cdmalatd, by whose rosy blossoms the heaven of 
 Indra is scented. As they sat in the cool fragrance 
 
116 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 of this delicious 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 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 de- 
 scribing, said hesitatingly that he remembered a 
 Story of a Peri, which, if the Princess had no ob- 
 jection, 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 : — 
 
PARADISE AND THE PERL 
 
 One morn a Peri at the gate 
 Of Eden stood, disconsolate; 
 And as she listen'd to the Springs 
 
 Of Life within, like music flowing, 
 And caught the light upon her wings 
 
 Through the half-open portal glowing. 
 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 outblooms 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. 
 Yet — oh, 't is only the Blest can say 
 
 How the waters of Heaven outshine them all ! 
 
118 LALLA TiOOKH. 
 
 * 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 pleasures of all the spheres, 
 And multiply each through endless years, — 
 
 One minute of Heaven is worth them all ! ' 
 
 The glorious Angel who was keeping 
 The Gates of Light beheld her weeping ; 
 And as he nearer drew and listen 'd 
 To her sad song, a tear-drop glisten'd 
 Within his eyelids, like the spray 
 
 From Eden's fountain, when it lies ^ 
 On the blue flower, which,~^ramins say, 
 
 Blooms nowhere but in Paradise. 
 
 * Nymph of a fair but erring line/ 
 Gently he said, * one hope is thine : 
 'T is written in the Book of Fate, 
 
 ^fje ^cri get mag be forgiben 
 212EIJ0 brings to tfjts (!Hternal (Kate 
 Wcit fflrtft tfjat is most iJear in ?^caijen! 
 
 Go, seek it, and redeem thy sin — 
 'T is sweet to let the Pardon'd in.' 
 
 Rapidly as comets run 
 To the embraces of the Sun, 
 Fleeter than the starry brands 
 Flung at night from angel hands. 
 At those dark and daring sprites 
 
TARADISE AND THE TERL 119 
 
 Who would climb the empyreal heights, 
 Down the blue vault the Peri flies, 
 
 And, lighted 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 Heaven ? — ' I know 
 
 The wealth,' she cries, * 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 ; 
 
 I know, too, where the Genii hid 
 
 The jewell'd cup of their King Jamshid, 
 
 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 AUa's wonderful Throne ? 
 
 And the Drops of Life — oh, what would they be 
 
 In the boundless Deep of Eternity ? * 
 
 While thus she mused, 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 ; 
 Whose mountains, pregnant by the beam 
 Of the warm sun, with diamonds teem ; 
 Whose rivulets are like rich brides, 
 
120 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 Lovely, with gold beneath their tides ; 
 Whose sandal groves and bowers of spice 
 Might be a Peri's Paradise ! 
 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 loved Sultana; 
 Maidens, within their pure Zenana, 
 
 Priests in the very fane, he slaughters, 
 And chokes up with the glittering wrecks 
 
 Of golden shrines the sacred waters ! 
 Downward the Peri turns her gaze, 
 And through the war-field's bloody haze 
 Beholds a youthful warrior stand. 
 
 Alone, beside his native river, — 
 The red blade broken in his hand. 
 
 And the last arrow in his quiver. 
 ' Live,' said the Conqueror, * live to share 
 
TARADISE AND THE TERI. 121 
 
 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 the Invader's heart. 
 
 False flew the shaft, though pointed well : 
 The Tyrant lived, the Hero fell ! — 
 Yet mark'd the Peri where he lay. 
 
 And when the rush of war was past. 
 Swiftly descending on a 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 
 
 O n the fi eld of warf are,_ blood like this, 
 
 (Fov 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, 
 'T is the last libation Liberty draws 
 From the heart that bleeds and breaks in her 
 
 Sweet,' said the Angel, as she gave 
 The gift into his radiant hand. 
 
122 LALLA %OOKH. 
 
 ' Sweet is our welcome of the Brave 
 Who die thus for their native Land. 
 But see, alas ! the crystal bar 
 Of Eden moves not, — holier far 
 Than even this drop the boon must be, 
 That opes the Gates of Heaven for thee/ 
 
 Her first fond hope of Eden blighted, 
 
 Now among Af ric'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. 
 Thence over Egypt's palmy groves, 
 
 Her grots, and sepulchres of Kings, 
 The exiled 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 pelicans that break 
 The azure calm of Moeris* Lake. 
 'T was a fair scene — a land more bright 
 
 Never did mortal eye behold ! 
 Who could have thought, that saw, this night, 
 
 Those valleys and their fruits of gold 
 Basking in Heaven's serenest light ; 
 
TARADISE AND THE TERJ. 123 
 
 Those groups of lovely date-trees bending 
 
 Languidly their leaf-crown'd heads, 
 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 loneliness 
 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 sitting 
 
 Upon a column, motionless 
 And glittering like an Idol bird ! — 
 Who could have thought, that there, even there, 
 Amid those scenes so still and fair, 
 The Demon of the Plague hath cast 
 From his hot wing a deadlier blast. 
 More mortal far than ever came 
 From the red Desert's sands of flame ! 
 So quick, that every living thing 
 Of human shape, touch'd by his wing. 
 Like plants where the Simoon hath past, 
 At once falls black and withering ! 
 
 The sun went down on many a brow 
 
 Which, full of bloom and freshness then, 
 
124 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 Is rankling in the pest-house now, 
 
 And ne'er will feel that sun again. 
 And, oh ! to see the unburied heaps 
 On which the lonely moonlight sleeps — 
 The very vultures turn away. 
 And sicken at so foul a prey ! 
 Only the fierce hyaena 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 
 Amid the darkness of the streets ! 
 
 ' Poor race of men ! ' said the pitying Spirit, 
 
 ' Dearly ye pay for your primal Fall — 
 Some flowerets 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 weep for man ! 
 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 : 
 
TARADISE AND THE TERI. 125 
 
 One who in life, where'er he moved, 
 
 Drew after him the hearts of many, 
 Yet now, as though he ne'er were loved, 
 
 Dies here unseen, unwept by any ! 
 None to watch near him — none to slake 
 
 The fire that in his bosom lies, 
 With even 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 still 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 loved, 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. 
 Freshly perfumed 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, 
 
126 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 Like a young envoy, sent by Health, 
 
 With rosy gifts upon her cheek ? 
 'T is she ! — far off, through moonlight dim, 
 
 He knew his own betrothed bride, 
 She, who would rather die with him, 
 
 Than live to gain the world beside ! — 
 Her arms are round her lover now. 
 
 His livid 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 cradling place 
 
 Of Eden's infant cherubim ! 
 And now he yields — now turns away. 
 Shuddering as if the venom lay 
 All in those proffer'd lips 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. 
 
 That blessed air, that's breathed by thee. 
 And whether on its wings it bear 
 
 Healing or death, 't is sweet to me ! 
 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. 
 
TAR/IDISE AND THE TERL 127 
 
 Nay, turn not from me that dear face — 
 
 Am I not thine ? — thine own loved 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, mine own love, turn. 
 Before, like thee, I fade and burn ; 
 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 
 
128 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 The enchanted pile of that lonely bird, 
 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 like two lovely saints they seem'd, 
 
 Upon the eve of doomsday taken 
 From their dim graves, in odour sleeping, — 
 While that benevolent Peri beam'd 
 Like their good angel, calmly keeping 
 
 Watch o'er them till their souls would waken. 
 
 But morn is blushing in the sky : 
 
 Again the Peri soars above, 
 Bearing to Heaven that precious sigh 
 
 Of pure self-sacrificing love. 
 High throbb'd her heart, with hope elate ; 
 
 The Elysian palm she soon shall win, 
 For the bright Spirit at the gate 
 
 Smiled 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 ; 
 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 ! 
 
TARADISE AND THE TERl 129 
 
 But ah ! even Peris' hopes are vain : — 
 Again the Fates forbade, again 
 The immortal barrier closed: — '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 AUa's head. 
 By seraph eyes shall long be read. 
 But, Peri, see — the crystal bar 
 Of Eden moves not — holier far 
 Than even this sigh the boon must be 
 That opes the Gates of Heaven for thee.' 
 
 Now, upon Syria's land of roses 
 Softly the light of Eve reposes, 
 And, like 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. 
 
 To one who look'd from upper air 
 O'er all the enchanted regions there. 
 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 sunlight falls ; 
 Gay lizards, glittering on the walls 
 9 
 
130 LALLA T^OOKH. 
 
 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 gleam 
 
 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 
 
 The unclouded skies of Peristan. 
 
 And then the mingling sounds that come 
 
 Of shepherd's ancient reed, with hum 
 
 Of the wild bees of Palestine, 
 
 Banquetting 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 : 
 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 raised to count his ages by ! 
 
 Yet haply there may lie conceal'd 
 
 Beneath those Chambers of the Sun, 
 Some amulet of gems anneal'd 
 In upper fires, some tablet seal'd 
 
TARADISE AND THE TERI. 131 
 
 With the great name of Solomon, 
 Which, spell'd by her illumined 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 
 That flutter 'd round the jasmine stems, 
 Like winged flowers or flying gems : — 
 And, near the boy, who, tired with play, 
 Now nestling 'mid the roses lay. 
 She saw a wearied man dismount 
 
 From 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, 
 
132 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 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 profaned — 
 Oaths broken — and the threshold stain'd 
 With blood of guests ! — there written, all, 
 Black as the damning drops that fall 
 From the denouncing Angel's pen, 
 Ere Mercy weeps them out again. 
 
 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, — 
 As torches that have burnt all night 
 Through some impure and godless rite, 
 
 Encounter morning's glorious rays. 
 
 But hark ! 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 the eternal name of God 
 
TARADISE AND THE TERI. 133 
 
 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 seeking for its home again. 
 Oh, 'twas a sight — that Heaven — that child — 
 A scene which might have well beguiled 
 Even haughty Eblis of a sigh 
 For glories lost and peace gone by ! 
 
 And how felt he, the wretched man 
 Reclining there — while memory ran 
 O'er many a year 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 was a time,' he said, in mild 
 Heart-humbled tones, ' thou blessed child ! 
 When, young 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 ! 
 
 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. 
 
134 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 'There's a drop,' said the Peri, 'that down f^m 
 
 the moon 
 Falls through the withering airs of June 
 Upon Egypt's land, of so healing a power, 
 So balmy a virtue, that e'en in the hour 
 The drop descends, contagion dies. 
 And health re-animates 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 guiltless one. 
 
 And hymns of joy proclaim through Heaven 
 
 The triumph of a Soul Forgiven ! 
 
 'T was when the golden orb had set. 
 
 While 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 or meteor beam, — 
 
 But well the enraptured Peri knew 
 
 'T was a bright smile the Angel threw 
 
 From Heaven's gate, to hail that tear 
 
 Her harbinger of glory near ! 
 
TARADISE AND THE TERI. 135 
 
 * Joy, joy forever ! 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 like a lover's sigh ! 
 My feast is now of the Tooba Tree, 
 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, 
 
 Whose flowers have a soul in every leaf ! 
 Joy, joy forever ! — my task is done ! — 
 The Gates are pass'd, and Heaven is won I * 
 
136 LALLA T^OOKH. 
 
 "AifD this," said the Great Chamberlain, "is 
 poetry ! this flimsy manufacture of the brain, which, 
 in comparison with the lofty and durable monu- 
 ments of genius, is as the gold filigree-work of 
 Zamara beside the eternal architecture of Egypt ! " 
 After this gorgeous sentence, which, witk 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 lead- 
 ing causes of the alarming growth of poetry in our 
 times. If some check were not given to this lawless 
 facility, we should soon be overrun by a race of 
 bards as numerous and as shallow as the hundred- 
 and-twenty thousand streams of Basra. They who 
 succeeded in this style deserved chastisement for 
 their very success, — as warriors have been punished, 
 even after gaining a victory, because they had taken 
 the liberty of gaining it in an irregular or unestab- 
 lished manner. What, then, was to be said to 
 those who failed ? 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 vigour which gave a dignity even to 
 negligence, — who, like them, flung the jereed care- 
 lessly, but not, like them, to the mark ; — " and 
 who," said he, raising his voice to excite a proper 
 
LALLA T{OOKH. 137 
 
 degree of wakefulness in his hearers, " contrive to 
 appear heavy and constrained in the midst of all 
 the latitude they allow themselves, like one of those 
 young pagans that dance before the Princess, who 
 is ingenious enough to move as if her limbs were 
 fettered, in a pair of the lightest and loosest draw- 
 ers of Masulipatam ! " 
 
 It waf 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 con- 
 ceitedness 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 delivered 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 incom- 
 prehensible for him even to guess how they man- 
 aged 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 should undertake." 
 
 In vain did Lalla Rookh try to soften this inex- 
 orable critic ; in vain did she resort to her most 
 eloquent common-places, — reminding him that poets 
 were a timid and sensitive race, whose sweetness 
 was not to be drawn forth, like that of the fragrant 
 
138 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 grass near the Ganges, by crushing and trampling 
 upon them ; — that severity often extinguished 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 with which they were inculcated, could 
 lower for one instant the elevation of Fadladeen's 
 eyebrows, or charm him into anything like encour- 
 agement, or even toleration of her poet. Toleration, 
 indeed, was not among the weaknesses of Fadla- 
 deen : — 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 both. His zeal 
 was the same, too, in either pursuit, — whether the 
 game before him was pagans or poetasters, wor- 
 shippers of cows or writers of epics. 
 
 They had now arrived at the splendid city of 
 Lahore, whose mausoleums and shrines, magnificent 
 and numberless, where Death appeared to share 
 equal honours with Heaven, would have powerfully 
 affected the heart and imagination of Lalla Rookh, 
 if feelings more of this earth had not taken entire 
 possession of her already. She was here met by 
 messengers, despatched from Cashmere, who in- 
 formed her that the King had arrived in the Val- 
 ley, and was himself superintending the sumptuous 
 preparations that were then making in the Saloons 
 of the Shalimar for her reception. The chill she 
 
LALLA T{OOKH. 139 
 
 felt on receiving this intelligence, — which to a bride 
 whose heart was free and light would have brought 
 only images of affection and pleasure, — convinced 
 her that her peace was gone forever, and that she 
 was in love, irretrievably in love, with young Fera- 
 morz. The veil had fallen off in which this passion 
 at first disguises itself, and to know that she loved 
 was now as painful as to love without knowing it 
 had been delicious. Feramorz, 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 had tended to bring their hearts close to- 
 gether, and to waken by every means that too 
 ready passion, which often, like the young of the 
 desert-bird, is warmed into life by the eyes alone ! 
 She saw but one way to preserve herself from be- 
 ing culpable as well as unhappy, and this, however 
 painful, she was resolved to adopt. Feramorz 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 endeavour to forget the short dream 
 
140 LALLA T^OOKH. 
 
 of happiness she had enjoyed, — like that Arabian 
 shepherd, who, in wandering into the wilderness, 
 caught a glimpse of the Gardens of Irim, and then 
 lost them again forever ! 
 
 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 en- 
 camped 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 arti- 
 sans, in chariots adorned with tinsel and flying 
 streamers, 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, — par- 
 ticularly 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 no- 
 bility, and rode along between ranks of beautiful 
 boys and girls, who kept waving over their heads 
 plates of gold and silver flowers, and then threw 
 them around to be gathered by the populace. 
 
 For many days after their departure from La- 
 hore, a considerable degree of gloom hung over 
 the whole party. Lalla Rookh, who had intended 
 
LALLA T{OOKH. 141 
 
 to make illness her excuse for not admitting 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 hlessed memory ! ) for not having con- 
 tinued his delectable alley of trees, at least as far 
 as the mountains of Cashmere ; while the Ladies, 
 who had nothing now to do all day but to be fanned 
 by peacocks' feathers and listen to Fadladeen, 
 seemed heartily weary of the life they led, and, in 
 spite of all the Great Chamberlain's criticisms, 
 were so tasteless as 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. 
 
 Tell me not of Houris' eyes; — 
 
 Far from me their dangerous glow, 
 
 If those looks that light the skies 
 Wound like some that burn below. 
 
142 LALLA %OOKH. 
 
 Who, that feels what Love is here, 
 All its falsehood, — all its pain,— 
 
 Would, for even 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 ? 
 
 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 to be a sad but still sweet certainty, that 
 Feramorz was to the full as enanaoured and miser- 
 able 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 East ; where the tama- 
 rind, 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 mango-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 
 
LALLA T{OOKH. 143 
 
 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-pre- 
 tending Fadladeen, who had never till this journey- 
 been beyond the precincts of Delhi, was proceeding 
 most learnedly to show that he knew nothing what- 
 ever about the matter, when one of the Ladies sug- 
 gested that perhaps Feramorz could satisfy their 
 curiosity. They were now approaching his native 
 mountains, and this tower might perhaps be a relic 
 of some of those dark superstitions which had pre- 
 vailed in that country before the light of Islam 
 dawned upon it. The Chamberlain, who usually 
 preferred his own ignorance to the best knowledge 
 that anyone else could give him, was by no means 
 pleased with this officious reference, and the Prin- 
 cess, too, was about to interpose a faint word of 
 objection ; but, before either of them could speak, 
 a slave was despatched for Feramorz, who, in a 
 very few minutes, made his appearance before 
 them, — looking so pale and unhappy in Lalla 
 Rookh's eyes, that she repented already of her 
 cruelty in having so long excluded him. 
 
 That venerable tower, he told them, was the re- 
 mains 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 
 
144 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 foreign land to the alternative of apostasy or per- 
 secution in their own. It was impossible, he added, 
 not to feel interested in the many glorious but un- 
 successful 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 man- 
 ner become the prey of strangers, and seen her an- 
 cient shrines and native princes swept away before 
 the march of her intolerant invaders, he felt a sym- 
 pathy, he owned, with the sufferings of the perse- 
 cuted Ghebers, which every monument like this 
 before them but tended more powerfully to awaken. 
 It was the first time that Feramorz had ever 
 ventured upon so much prose before Fadladeen, 
 and it may easily be conceived what effect 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 
 intervals, " Bigoted conquerors ! sympathy with 
 Fire-worshippers!" — while Feramorz, happy to 
 take advantage of this almost speechless horror of 
 the Chamberlain, proceeded to say that he knew a 
 melancholy story, connected with the events of one 
 of those struggles of the brave Fire-worshippers 
 against their Arab masters, which, if the evening 
 was not too far advanced, he should have much 
 
LALM T{OOKH. 146 
 
 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 talismanic characters 
 on the scimitar of Solomon. Her consent was 
 therefore most readily granted ; and while Fadla- 
 deen sat in unspeakable dismay, expecting treason 
 and abomination in every line, the poet thus began 
 his story of the Fire-worshippers. 
 
 10 
 
THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 
 
 'T IS moonlight over Oman's Sea ; 
 
 Her banks of pearl and balmy isles 
 Bask in the night-beam beauteously, 
 
 And her blue waters sleep in smiles. 
 'T is moonlight in Harmozia's walls, 
 And through her Emir's porphyry halls, 
 Where, some hours since, was heard the swell 
 Of trumpet and the clash of zel, 
 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 ocean : 
 If zephyrs come, so light they come 
 
 Nor leaf is stirr'd nor wave is driven : 
 The wind-tower on the Emir's dome 
 
 Can hardly win a breath from heaven. 
 
 Even 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 • 
 
148 LALLA T^OOKH. 
 
 Are starting to avenge the shame 
 
 His race hath brought on Iran's name. 
 
 Hard, heartless Chief, unmoved alike 
 
 '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 ; — 
 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 sunk 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 : 
 Even as those bees of Trebizond, 
 
 Which, from the sunniest flowers that glad 
 With their pure smiles the gardens round, 
 
 Draw venom forth that drives men mad. 
 
 Never did fierce Arabia send 
 
 A satrap forth more direly great ; 
 
THE FIRE-PVORSHIPPERS. 149 
 
 Never was Iran doom'd to bend 
 
 Beneath a yoke of deadlier weight. 
 Her throne had fallen — her pride was crush'd — 
 Her sons were willing slaves, nor blu&h'd, 
 In their own land — no more their own — 
 To crouch beneath a stranger's throne. 
 Her towers, where Mithra once had burn'd, 
 To Moslem shrines — O shame ! — were turn'd, 
 Where slaves, converted by the sword, 
 Their mean apostate worship pour'd, 
 And cursed the faith their sires adored. 
 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 treasured from the sun that's set, — 
 
 Beam all the light 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 unmoved 
 
 By the white moonbeam's dazzling power : — 
 None but the loving and the loved 
 
 Should be awake at this sweet hour. 
 
150 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 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, 
 Hang from the lattice, long and wild — 
 'T is 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 lie 
 
 Hid in more chaste obscurity. 
 So, Hinda, have thy face and mind. 
 Like holy mysteries, lain enshrined. 
 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 breathed but theirs. 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 161 
 
 Beautiful are the maids that glide, 
 
 On summer-eves, through Yemen's dales, 
 And bright the glancing looks they hide 
 
 Behind their litters' roseate veils ; 
 And brides, as delicate and fair 
 As the white jasmine flowers they wear. 
 Hath Yemen in her blissful clime. 
 
 Who, luU'd in cool kiosk or bower. 
 Before their mirrors count the time, 
 
 And grow still lovelier every hour. 
 But never yet hath bride or maid 
 
 In Araby's gay Haram 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 
 Rich in all woman's loveliness ; 
 With eyes so pure, that from their ray 
 Dark Vice would turn abash'd away. 
 Blinded like serpents when they gaze 
 Upon the emerald's virgin blaze ; 
 Yet fill'd with all youth's sweet desires. 
 Mingling 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, 
 Religion's soften 'd glories shine. 
 
 Like light through summer foliage stealing. 
 
162 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 Shedding a glow of such mild hue, 
 So warm, and yet so shadowy too, 
 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! t' was 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, 
 
 When 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 costliest 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 ; 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 153 
 
 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's at rest, 
 Love, in the tempest most alive, 
 
 Hath ever held that pearl the best 
 He finds beneath the stormiest water. 
 Yes — Araby's unrivall'd daughter, 
 Though high that tower, that rock-way rude, 
 
 There's one who, but to kiss thy cheek, 
 Would climb the untrodden solitude 
 
 Of Ararat's tremendous peak. 
 And think its steeps, though dark and dread, 
 Heaven's pathways, if to thee they led ! 
 Even now thou seest the flashing spray. 
 That lights his oar's impatient way ; 
 Even now thou hear'st the sudden shock 
 Of his swift bark against the rock, 
 And stretchest down thine 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. 
 Came, in the flush of love and pride. 
 And scaled the terrace of his bride ; 
 When, as she saw him rashly spring. 
 And midway up in danger cling, 
 She flung him down her long black hair. 
 Exclaiming, breathless, * There, love, there ! ' 
 And scarce did manlier nerve uphold 
 
 The hero Zal in that fond hour. 
 
154 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 Than wings the youth who, fleet and bold, 
 Now climbs the rocks to Hinda's bower. 
 
 See! light as up their granite steeps 
 The rock-goats of Arabia clamber. 
 
 Fearless from crag to crag he leaps, 
 And now is in the maiden's chamber. 
 
 She loves — but knows not whom she loves. 
 
 Nor what his race, nor whence he came, — 
 Like one who meets, in Indian groves. 
 
 Some beauteous bird without a name. 
 Brought by the last ambrosial breeze 
 From isles in the 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 ! 't was 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 moonlit 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, 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 155 
 
 Before her in obeisance cast, 
 Yet often since, when he hath spoken 
 Strange awful words, and gleams have broken 
 From his dark eyes, too bright to bear. 
 
 Oh, she hath fear'd her soul was given 
 To some unhallow'd 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 simplicity ; 
 But one of earth's impassion'd 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 his 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 't was joy to wake and weep,— 
 Visions, that will not be forgot. 
 
 But sadden every waking scene, 
 Like warning ghosts, that leave the spot 
 
 All wither'd where they once have been. 
 
156 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 * How sweetly,' said the trembling 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 wings, 
 And we, within its fairy bowers. 
 
 Were wafted off to seas unknown 
 Where not a pulse should beat but ours. 
 
 And we might live, 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 turn'd, that he might see 
 
 The passing smile her cheek put on ; 
 But when she mark'd how mournfully 
 
 His eyes met hers, that smile was gone. 
 And, bursting into heartfelt tears, 
 
 * Yes, yes,' she cried, * my hourly fears. 
 My dreams have boded all too right — 
 We part — forever part — to-night ! 
 
 I knew, I knew it could not last — 
 'T was bright, 't was heavenly, but 't is past ! 
 Oh, ever thus, from childhood's hour 
 I've seen my fondest hopes decay ; 
 I never loved a tree or flower. 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 157 
 
 But 't was the first to fade away ; 
 I never nursed 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, — 
 
 Oh, misery ! must I lose thut too ? 
 Yet go — on peril's brink we meet : 
 
 Those frightful rocks ! that treacherous sea ! — 
 No, never come again! — though sweet. 
 
 Though heaven, it may be death to thee ! 
 Farewell! and blessings on thy way. 
 
 Where'er thou goest, beloved stranger ! 
 Better to sit and watch that ray. 
 And think thee safe, though far away, 
 
 Than have thee near me, and in danger I ' 
 
 Danger I — oh, tempt me not to boast ! ' 
 The youth exclaim'd — * Thou little know'st 
 What he can brave, who, born and nurst 
 In Danger's paths, has dared her worst ; 
 Upon whose ear the signal word 
 
 Of strife and death is hourly breaking ; 
 Who sleeps with head upon the sword 
 
 His fever'd hand must grasp in waking. 
 Danger ! ' — 
 
 ' Say on — thou fear'st not then? 
 And we may meet — oft meet again?' 
 
158 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 ' 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 destined course. 
 If aught could make this soul forget 
 The bond to which its seal is set, — 
 'T would be those eyes : — they, only they, 
 Could melt that sacred seal away ! 
 But no, 't is fix'd, — mine awful doom 
 Is fix'd — on this side of the tomb 
 We meet no more. Why, why did Heaven 
 Mingle two souls that earth has riven, 
 Has rent asunder wide as ours ? 
 
 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 gray head from that lightning glance ! 
 Thou know'st him not — he loves the brave; 
 
 Nor lives 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, 
 
 1 've heard him swear his lisping 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, 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 159 
 
 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 thine own. 
 Go — join his sacred ranks: thou know'st 
 
 The unholy strife these Persians wage, — 
 Good Heaven, that frown ! — even now thou glow'st 
 
 With more than mortal warrior's rage. 
 Haste to the camp by morning's light, 
 And when that sword is raised in fight, 
 Oh, still remember, Love and I 
 Beneath its shadow trembling lie ! 
 One victory o'er those 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 show'd beneath 
 
 The Gheber belt that round him clung ; 
 Here, maiden, look — weep — blush to see 
 All that thy sire abhors in me ! 
 Yes — / 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 : 
 Yes — /am of that outcast few. 
 To Iran and to vengeance true. 
 Who curse the hour your Arabs came 
 To desolate our shrines of flame, 
 
160 LALLA T^OOKH, 
 
 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 ! 
 But know — 't was he I sought that night. 
 
 When, from my watch-boat on the sea, 
 I caught this turret's glimmering light, 
 
 And up the rude rocks desperately 
 Rush'd to my prey : — thou know'st the 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 e'en 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 nameless ties, 
 In which the charm of Country lies. 
 Had round our hearts been hourly spun, 
 Till Iran's cause and thine were one ; 
 While in thy lute's awakening sigh 
 I heard the voice of days gone by, 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 161 
 
 And saw, in every smile of thine, 
 Returning hours of glory shine ; 
 While the wrong'd Spirit of our Land 
 
 Lived, look'd, and spoke her wrongs thro' thee, 
 God ! who could then this sword withstand ? 
 
 Its very flash were victory ! 
 But now — estranged, divorced forever. 
 Far as the grasp of Fate can sever : 
 Our only ties what love has wove, — 
 
 In faith, friends, country, sunder'd wide, — 
 And then, then only, true to love. 
 
 When false to all that's dear beside ! 
 Thy father, Iran's deadliest foe — 
 Thyself perhaps, even 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, unmoved, 
 
 Her widows mourn, her warriors fall. 
 Thou 'It think how well one Gheber loved, 
 
 And for his sake thou 'It weep for all ! 
 
 But look ' 
 
 With sudden start he turn'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 all sparkling from the main, 
 As if each star that nightly falls 
 11 
 
162 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 Were shooting back to heaven again. 
 * My signal lights ! I must away — 
 Both, both are ruin'd, if I stay. 
 Farewell, — sweet life ! thou cling'st in vain,- 
 Now, Vengeance, I am thine 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. 
 While pale and mute young Hinda stood, 
 Nor moved, till in the 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 
 
 Then the chill wave my love lies under ; 
 Sweeter to rest together dead, 
 
 Far sweeter, than to live asunder ! ' 
 But no, their hour is not yet come ; 
 
 Again she sees his pinnace fly. 
 Wafting him fleetly to his home. 
 
 Where'er that ill-starr'd home may lie ; 
 And calm and smooth it seem'd to win 
 
 Its moonlit way before the wind. 
 As if it bore all peace within. 
 
 Nor left one breaking heart behind ! 
 
LALLA T{OOKH. 163 
 
 The Princess, whose heart was sad enough al- 
 ready, could have wished that Feramorz had chosen 
 a less melancholy story ; as it is only to the happy 
 that tears are a luxury. Her ladies, however, were 
 by no means sorry that love was once more the 
 Poet's theme ; for whenever 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 staff, 
 with the white flag at its top, reminded the trav- 
 eller 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 spread- 
 ing roofs seem to destine them for natural temples 
 of religion. Beneath this spacious shade, some 
 pious hands had erected a row of pillars ornamented 
 with the most beautiful porcelain, which now sup- 
 plied 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, in one of his 
 
164 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 loftiest moods of criticism, by her side, the young 
 Poet, leaning against a branch of the tree, thus con- 
 tinued his story : — 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 165 
 
 The morn hath risen clear and calm, 
 
 And o'er the Green Sea palely shines, 
 Revealing Bahrein's groves of palm, 
 
 And lighting Kishma's amber vines. 
 Fresh smell the shores of Araby, 
 While breezes from the Indian sea 
 Blow round Selama's 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 toward 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 
 That ever youthful Sultan wore 
 
 On the first morning of his reign. 
 
 And see ! the Sun himself ! On wings 
 Of glory up the East he springs. 
 Angel of Light ! who, from the time 
 
166 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 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, turn'd 
 To meet that eye where'er it burn'd ? 
 
 When, from the banks of Bendemeer 
 To the nut-groves of Samarcand, 
 Thy temples flamed 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, unloved, unknown, 
 Beyond the Caspian's Iron Gates, 
 
 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 beloved but blighted sod. 
 Beneath a despot stranger's nod ! — 
 Oh, he would rather houseless roam 
 
 Where Freedom and his God may lead. 
 Than be the sleekest slave at home 
 
 That crouches to the conqueror's creed ! 
 
 Is Iran's pride then gone forever, 
 
 Quench'd with the flame in Mithra's caves ? 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 167 
 
 No — she has sons, that never, never, 
 Will stoop to be the Moslem's slaves, 
 While heaven 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 scaled that tower, 
 
 And, had he reach'd thy slumbering breast. 
 Had taught thee in a Gheber's power 
 
 How safe e'en 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 
 E'en for one bleeding moment free. 
 And die in pangs of liberty ! 
 Thou know'st them 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, e'en here, a sacred band, — 
 
168 LALLA T^OOKH. 
 
 Ay, in the portal of that land 
 Thou, Arab, dar'st to call thine own, — 
 Their spears across thy path have thrown ; 
 Here, ere the winds half wing'd thee o'er, 
 Rebellion braved 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 withering 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 chill'd at first, 
 If check'd in soaring from the plain. 
 Darken to fogs and sink again ; 
 But, if they once triumphant spread 
 Their wings above the mountain-head. 
 Become enthroned in upper air, 
 And turn to sun-bright glories there ! 
 
 And who is he, that wields the might 
 Of Freedom on the Green Sea brink, 
 
 Before whose sabre's dazzling light 
 The eyes of Yemen's warriors wink ? 
 
 Who comes, embower'd in the spears 
 
 Of Kerman's hardy mountaineers ? 
 
 Those mountaineers that truest, last, 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 169 
 
 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 Hafed — name of fear, whose sound 
 
 Chills like the muttering of a charm ! — 
 Shout but that awful name around, 
 
 And palsy shakes the manliest arm ! 
 'T is Hafed, most accursed 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 
 Pulls down his cowl upon his eyes. 
 Lest Hafed 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 ; 
 And gifted by the Fiends of Fire, 
 Who groan' d to see their shrines expire, 
 With charms that, all in vain withstood, 
 Would drown the Koran's light in blood ! 
 
170 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 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 adored, 
 
 For happy homes and altars free, — 
 His only talisman, the sword, 
 
 His only spell-word. Liberty! 
 One of that ancient hero line, 
 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 ; 
 *T was not for him, whose soul was cast 
 In the bright mould of ages past. 
 Whose melancholy spirit, fed 
 With all the glories of the dead. 
 Though framed for Iran's happiest years, 
 Was born among her chains and tears ! — 
 'T was not for him to swell the crowd 
 Of slavish heads, that shrinking bow'd 
 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 like drops of flame ; 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. Ill 
 
 4-nd, as a lover hails the dawn 
 
 0£ 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 raised, 
 Thousands around the Conqueror blazed j 
 For every arm that lined 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 beetling awfully : 
 A last and solitary link 
 
 Of those stupendous chains that reach 
 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, 
 
172 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 As if to guard the Gulf across ; 
 While, on its peak, that braved 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 dwelling there 
 In her own silent fields of air ! 
 Beneath, terrific caverns gave 
 Dark welcome to each stormy wave 
 That dash'd, like midnight revellers, in ; 
 And such the strange mysterious din 
 At times throughout those caverns roU'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 cliff. 
 
 On the land side, those towers sublime. 
 That seem'd above the grasp of Time, 
 Were sever'd from the haunts of men 
 By a wide, deep, and wizard glen, 
 So fathomless, so full of gloom. 
 
 No eye could pierce the void between : 
 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. 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 173 
 
 Too deep for eye or ear to know 
 If 't were the sea's imprison'd flow, 
 
 Or floods of ever-restless flame. 
 For, each ravine, each rocky spire 
 Of that vast mountain stood on fire ; 
 And, though forever past the days 
 When God was worshipped in the blaze 
 That from its lofty altar shone, — 
 Though fled the priests, the votaries gone, — 
 Still did the mighty flame burn on, 
 Through chance and change, through good and ill, 
 Like its own God's eternal will, 
 Deep, constant, bright, unquenchable ! 
 
 Thither the vanquish'd Hafed led 
 
 His little army's last remains ; 
 Welcome, terrific glen ! ' he said. 
 Thy gloom, that Eblis' self might dread, 
 
 Is Heaven to him who flies from chains ! * 
 O'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 we may bleed, unmock'd by hymns 
 
 Of Moslem triumph o'er our head ; 
 Here we may fall, nor leave our limbs 
 
 To quiver to the Moslem's tread. 
 Stretch'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 ! ' 
 
174 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 'T was night when to those towers they came, 
 And gloomily the fitful flame, 
 That from the ruin'd altar broke, 
 Glared 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 shrines his lusts in heaven, 
 
 And makes a pander of his God ; 
 If her proud sons, her high-born 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 — till the land's despair 
 Cries out to Heaven, and bondage grows 
 
 Too vile for e'en the vile to bear ! 
 Till shame at last, long hidden, burns 
 Their inmost core, and conscience turns 
 Each coward tear the slave lets fall 
 Back on his heart in drops of gall. 
 But here, at least, our arms unchain'd, 
 And souls that thraldom never stain'd ; 
 
 This spot, at least, no foot of slave 
 Or satrap ever yet profaned ; 
 
 And though but few, — though fast the wave 
 Of life is ebbing from our veins, 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 176 
 
 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 falchion's last farewell, — 
 When Hope's expiring throb is o'er. 
 And e'en 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 Mighty 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 ; 
 Though neither priest nor rites were there, 
 
 Nor charmed leaf of pure pomegranate ; 
 Nor hymn, 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 injured name, 
 
176 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 To die upon that Mount of Flame — 
 The last of all her patriot line, 
 Before her last untrampled Shrine ! 
 
 Brave suffering souls ! they little knew 
 How many a tear their injuries drew 
 From one weak maid, one gentle foe, 
 Whom love first touch'd with others' woe, — 
 Whose life, as free from thought as sin, 
 Slept like a lake, till Love threw in 
 His talisman, and woke the tide. 
 And spread its trembling circles wide. 
 Once, Emir ! thine unheeding child, 
 'Mid all this havoc, bloom'd and smiled, — 
 Tranquil as on some battle plain 
 
 The Persian lily shines and towers. 
 Before the combat's reddening stain 
 
 Hath fallen upon her golden flowers. 
 Light-hearted maid, unawed, unmoved, 
 While Heaven but spared the sire she loved. 
 Once at thine evening tales of blood 
 Unlistening and aloof she stood, — 
 And oft, when thou hast paced along 
 
 Thy Haram halls with furious heat. 
 Hast thou not cursed 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 feelings Love hath brought, — 
 Her soul all flame, her brow all sadness, 
 
THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. Ill 
 
 She now has but the one dear thought, 
 
 And thinks that o'er, almost to madness ! 
 Oft does 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 estranged — 
 Voice, step, and life, and beauty changed, — 
 He would have mark'd 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 seal'd above. 
 Grows in the world's approving eyes. 
 In friendship's smile and home's caress, 
 12 
 
178 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 Collecting all the heart's sweet ties 
 
 Into one knot of happiness ! 
 No, Hinda, no, — thy fatal flame 
 Is nursed in silence, sorrow, shame ; 
 
 A passion, without hope or pleasure, 
 In thy soul's darkness huried 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, 
 
 And oft the hateful carrion bird. 
 Heavily flapping his clogg'd wing, 
 Which reek'd with that day's banquetting - 
 
 Was all she saw, was all she heard. 
 
 'T is the eighth morn. Al Hassan's brow 
 Is brighten' d with unusual joy ; 
 
THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 179 
 
 What mighty mischief glads him now, 
 
 Who 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 smiling eye ! 
 Up, daughter, up ! the Kerna's 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. — 
 ' Yes — spite of his ravines and towers, 
 Hafed, my child, this night is ours : 
 Thanks to all-conquering treachery. 
 
 Without whose aid the links accurst, 
 That bind these impious slaves, would be 
 
 Too strong for Alla's self to burst ! 
 That rebel fiend, whose blade has spread 
 My path with piles of Moslem dead, 
 Whose 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. 
 
180 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 When God and Vengeance speed the blow. 
 And — Prophet ! by that holy wreath 
 Thou worest 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 Shrine of Shrines ! 
 But, ha ! — she sinks — that look so wild — 
 Those livid 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 dread. 
 Had I not hoped our every tread 
 
 Would be on prostrate Persian necks — 
 Curst race, they offer swords instead ! 
 But, cheer thee, maid, — the wind that now 
 Is blowing o'er thy feverish brow, 
 To-day shall waft thee from the shore ; 
 And, ere a drop of this night's gore 
 Have time to chill in yonder towers. 
 Thou 'It see thine own sweet Arab bowers ! ' 
 
 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 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 181 
 
 In her last hold of flame and blood. 
 Left on the field that 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 lived, 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 blight. 
 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 ! 
 His country's curse, his children'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, 
 
182 LALLA T{OOKH, 
 
 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 ! 
 
LALLA T{OOKH. 183 
 
 Lalla Rookh had, the night before, been visited 
 by a dream, which, in spite of the impending fate 
 of poor Hafed, made her heart more than usually- 
 cheerful during the morning, and gave her cheeks 
 all the freshened animation of a flower that the 
 Bid-musk had just passed over. She fancied that 
 she was sailing on that Eastern Ocean, where the 
 sea-gipsies, who live forever 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 send adrift at the mercy of winds and 
 waves, loaded with perfumes, flowers, and odorif- 
 erous wood, as an offering to the Spirit whom they 
 call King of the Sea. At first, this little bark ap- 
 peared to be empty, but, on coming nearer — 
 
 She had proceeded thus far in relating the dream 
 to her Ladies, when Feramorz appeared at the door 
 of the pavilion. In his presence, of course, every- 
 thing 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 lamenta- 
 tions of absent lovers, the Poet thus continued. 
 
184 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 The day is lowering, — stilly black 
 Sleeps the grim wave, while heaven's rack, 
 Dispersed and wild, 'twixt earth and sky 
 Hangs like a shatter'd 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, roU'd in masses dark and swelling. 
 As proud to be the thunder's dwelling ! 
 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 't was 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 skiff till calmer hours ; 
 The sea-birds, with portentous screech. 
 Flew fast to land ; upon the beach. 
 The pilot oft had paused, with glance 
 Turn'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. 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 186 
 
 No music timed her parting oar, 
 Nor friends upon the lessening strand 
 Linger'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-destined bark that steers 
 In silence through the Gate of Tears. 
 And where was stern Al Hassan then ? 
 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, 
 Let loose to tell 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 nursed, — the well-known groves, 
 
 Where oft in dreams her spirit roves ; 
 
186 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 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, 
 She left, 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 delights, that wait her now. 
 Call up no sunshine on her brow ? 
 No ; — silent, from her train apart — 
 As if e'en 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 loved, so lost, where art thou now ? 
 Foe — Gheber — infidel — whate'sr 
 The unhallow'd name thou 'rt doom'd to bear, 
 Still glorious, — still to this fond heart 
 Dear as its blood, whate'er thou art I 
 Yes, — Alia, dreadful Alia ! yes, — 
 If there be wrong, be crime in this, 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 187 
 
 Let the black waves that round us roll 
 
 Whelm me this instant, ere my soul, 
 
 Forgetting faith — home — father — all, 
 
 Before its earthly idol fall, 
 
 Nor worship e'en Thyself above him — 
 
 For, oh, so wildly do I love him, 
 
 Thy Paradise itself were dim 
 
 And joyless, if not shared with him ! ' 
 
 Her hands were clasp'd, her eyes upturn'd. 
 
 Dropping their tears like moonlight 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 now, 
 
 Her spirit's home was in the skies. 
 Yes ; for a spirit pure as hers 
 Is always pure, e'en while it errs, — 
 As sunshine, broken in the rill. 
 Though turn'd astray, is sunshine still ! 
 
 So 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 to vie 
 
 With the rude riot of the sky. 
 
188 LALLA 7{00KH. 
 
 But, hark ! — that war-whoop on the deck ! 
 
 That crash ! as if each engine there, 
 Masts, sails, and all, were gone to wreck, 
 
 'Mid yells and stampings of despair ! 
 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, 
 Trembling all over, — for she felt 
 As if her judgment hour was near ; 
 While crouching round, half-dead with fear, 
 Her handmaids clung, nor breathed, nor stirr'd- 
 When, hark ! a second crash — a third — 
 And now, as if a bolt of thunder 
 Had riven 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 ! 
 
 Whose was the hand that turn'd away 
 The perils of the infuriate fray. 
 And snatch'd her breathless from beneath 
 This wilderment of wreck and death ? 
 She knew not, — for a faintness came 
 Chill o'er her, and her sinking frame 
 Amid the ruins of that hour 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 189 
 
 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 I 
 The yawning deck, — the crowd that strove 
 Upon the tottering planks above, — 
 The sail whose fragments, shivering o'er 
 The strugglers' heads all dash'd with gore, 
 Flutter'd like bloody flags, — the clash 
 Of sabres, and the lightning's flash 
 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 : 
 
 'T was fancy all, — yet once she thought 
 While yet her fading eyes could see, 
 
 High on the ruin'd deck she caught 
 A glimpse of that unearthly form, 
 
 That glory of her soul, — e'en then. 
 Amid the whirl of wreck and storm, 
 
 Shining above his fellow-men ; 
 As, on some black and troublous night. 
 The Star of Egypt, whose proud light 
 Never hath beam'd on those who rest 
 In the White Islands of the West, 
 Burns through the storm with looks of flame 
 That put Heaven's cloudier eyes to shame. 
 
190 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 But no, 't was but the minute's dream — 
 A fantasy, — and ere the scream 
 Had half-way pass'd her pallid lips, 
 A death-like 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 I 
 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 Morn ; 
 When the light blossoms, rudely torn 
 And scatter'd at the whirlwind's will, 
 Hang floating in the pure air still. 
 Filling 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 't were that lightning-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 : 
 
THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS, 191 
 
 When the blue waters rise and fall, 
 In sleepy sunshine mantling all ; 
 And e'en that swell the tempest leaves 
 Is like the full and silent heaves 
 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 morn, — 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 javelins 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 ; 
 
192 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 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 
 To the slack sail impatient cast, 
 As loose it flagg'd around the mast. 
 
 Blest Alia ! who shall save her now ? 
 
 There's not in all that warrior band 
 One Arab sword, one turban'd brow, 
 
 From her own Faithful Moslem land. 
 Their garb : the leathern belt that wraps 
 
 Each yellow vest, — that rebel hue, — 
 The Tartar fleece upon their caps, — 
 
 Yes, yes ! her fears are all too true. 
 And Heaven hath, in this dreadful hour, 
 Abandon'd her to Hafed's power, — 
 Haf ed, 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 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 193 
 
 Cross'd her like lightning, as again, 
 With boldness that despair had lent, 
 
 She darted through that armed crowd 
 A look so searching, so intent, 
 
 That e'en 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 : 't is gone. 
 The vision that before her shone. 
 Through all the maze of blood and storm. 
 Is fled — 't was 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 oars are out, and with light sound 
 Break the bright mirror of the ocean, 
 
 Scattering its brilliant fragments round. 
 
 And now she sees — with horror sees — 
 Their course is toward that mountain-hold. 
 
 Those towers, that make her life-blood freeze, 
 
 Where Mecca's godless enemies 
 
 Lie, like beleaguer'd scorpions, roll'd 
 In their last deadly venomous fold ! 
 
 Amid the illumined land and flood 
 
 Sunless that mighty mountain stood ; 
 
 Save where, above its awful head, 
 13 
 
194 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 There shone a flaming cloud, blood-red, 
 
 As 't were 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 toward 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 masts and light 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 e'en the flare of brand and torch 
 Its flickering light 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 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 196 
 
 Mutter'd it o'er the long black wave, 
 As 't were some secret of the grave ! 
 
 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 oars' 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 day-beam 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; 
 
 While the rude litter where she lies, 
 
 Uplifted by the warrior throng, 
 
 O'er the steep rocks is borne along. 
 
 Blest power of sunshine ! genial Day, 
 What balm, 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. 
 
196 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 The deep, cold shadow of the tomb. 
 E'en Hinda, though she saw not where 
 
 Or whither wound the perilous road, 
 Yet knew by that awakening air 
 
 Which suddenly around her glow'd, 
 That they had risen from darkness then, 
 And breathed the sunny world again ! 
 
 But soon this balmy freshness fled ; 
 
 For now the sleepy labyrinth led 
 
 Through damp and gloom, 'mid crash of boughs, 
 
 And fall 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 hyaena, fierce and lone, — 
 And that eternal saddening sound 
 
 Of torrents in the glen beneath. 
 As 't were the ever-dark Profound 
 
 That rolls beneath the Bridge of Death ! 
 All, all is fearful, — e'en 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. 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 197 
 
 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. 
 Whose smile, though met on ruin's brink, 
 
 Hath power to make e'en ruin dear, — 
 Yet soon this gleam of rapture, crost 
 By fears for him, is chill'd and lost. 
 How shall the ruthless Hafed brook 
 That one of Ghebfer 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 
 
198 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 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 welcomed with delight 
 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 all to Thee ! 
 Let him but live, — the burning tear. 
 The sighs, so sinful, yet so dear. 
 Which have been all too much his own, 
 Shall from this hour 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 lips, but when I pray 
 For his dear spirit, that away 
 Casting from its angelic ray 
 
THE FIRE'lVORSHIPPERS. 199 
 
 The eclipse of earth, he, too, may shine 
 Redeera'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 ! ' 
 
200 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 The next evening, Lalla Rookh was entreated by 
 her Ladies to continue the relation of her wonder- 
 ful dream; but the fearful interest that hung 
 round the fate of Hinda and her lover had com- 
 pletely 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 sorrowful tree, Nilica. 
 
 Fadladeen, whose indignation had more than 
 once broken out during the recital of some parts of 
 this 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 resumed his profane and seditious 
 story as follows: — 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 201 
 
 To tearless eyes and hearts at ease, 
 The leafy shores and sun-bright seas, 
 That lay beneath that mountain's height, 
 Had been a fair enchanting sight. 
 'T was 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 trembling 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 light from Heaven ! 
 
 'T was stillness all : the winds that late 
 
 Had rush'd through Kerman's almond groves. 
 And shaken from her bowers of date 
 
 That cooling feast the traveller loves, 
 Now, lull'd to languor, scarcely curl 
 
 The Green Sea wave, whose waters gleam 
 Limpid, as if her mines of pearl 
 
 Were melted all to form the stream ; 
 And her fair islets, small and bright. 
 
 With their green shores reflected there, 
 Look like those Peri isles of light 
 
 That hang by spell-work in the air. 
 
202 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 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, scowling near, 
 The Searchers of the Grave appear, — 
 She shuddering turn'd 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 e'en 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, like music, to her ear : — 
 Strange, mocking dream ! again 't is 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. 
 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? 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS, 203 
 
 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 Hafed 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 ! 
 ' T is he, 'tis he ! — the man of blood, 
 The fellest of the Fire-fiend's brood, 
 Hafed, the demon of the fight, 
 Whose voice unnerves, whose glances blight, — 
 Is her own loved Gheber, mild 
 And glorious as when first he smiled 
 In her lone tower, and left such beams 
 Of his pure eye to light her dreams, 
 That she believed her bower had given 
 Rest to some wanderer from Heaven. 
 
204 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 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 lips, 
 
 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 ! 
 
 Even he, this youth — though dimm'd and gone 
 
 Each star of Hope that cheer'd him on : 
 
 His glories lost, his cause betray'd ; 
 
 Iran, his dear-loved country, made 
 
 A land of carcasses and slaves. 
 
 One dreary waste of chains and graves ! 
 
 Himself but lingering, dead at heart. 
 
 To see the last long struggling breath 
 Of Liberty's great soul depart. 
 
 Then lay him down and share her death : — 
 Even 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 shown before him, 
 Beaming that blest assurance, worth 
 All other transports known on earth, — 
 That he was loved — well, warmly loved, — 
 Oh ! in this precious hour he proved 
 How deep, how thorough-felt, the glow 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 205 
 
 Of rapture, kindling out of woe ; 
 
 How exquisite one single drop 
 
 Of bliss, thus sparkling 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 sleep, 
 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 towards 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. 
 Never was scene so form'd for love, — 
 
206 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 Beneath them waves of crystal move 
 In silent swell, — Heaven glows above, 
 And their pure hearts, to transport given, 
 Swell like the wave, and glow like 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, 't is near ! — 
 
 Fly, fly ! — if yet thou lov'st 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 e'en now they climb the wood — 
 
 Fly, fly ! — though still the West is bright. 
 He'll come — oh, yes ! he wants thy blood ! — 
 
 I know him — he'll not wait for night ! ' 
 
 In terrors e'en to agony 
 
 She clings around the wondering Chief : 
 < Alas, poor wilder'd maid ! to me 
 
 Thou owest this raving trance of grief : 
 Lost as I am, nought ever grew 
 Beneath my shade but perish' d too, — 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 207 
 
 My doom is like the Dead Sea air, 
 And nothing lives that enters there ! 
 Why were our barks together driven 
 Beneath this morning's furious heaven ? 
 Why, 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 the 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 ; 
 Dread 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 e'en 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. 
 
208 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 Unless we fly, ay, fly this hour ! 
 
 Thou art betray'd : some wretch who knew 
 
 That dreadful glen's mysterious clew — 
 
 Nay, doubt not, by yon stars, 't is true ! — 
 
 Hath sold thee to my vengeful sire ; 
 
 This morning, with that smile so dire 
 
 He wears in joy, he told me all, 
 
 And stamp'd in triumph through our hall, 
 
 As though thy heart already beat 
 
 Its last life-throb beneath his feet ! 
 
 Good Heaven ! how little dream'd I then 
 
 His victim was mine own loved youth ! — 
 Fly — send — let some one watch the glen,- 
 
 By all my hopes of Heaven, 't is truth ! ' 
 
 Oh, colder than the wind that freezes 
 
 Founts that but now in sunshine play'd, 
 Is that congealing pang which seizes 
 
 The trusting bosom, when betray'd. 
 He felt it — deeply felt — and stood, 
 As if the tale had frozen his blood. 
 
 So mazed and motionless was he, — 
 Like one whom sudden spells enchant, 
 Or some mute marble habitant 
 
 Of the still Halls of Ishmonie ! 
 
 But soon the painful chill was o'er. 
 And his great soul, herself once more, 
 Look'd from his brow in all the rays 
 Of her best, happiest, grandest days. 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 209 
 
 Never in moment most elate 
 
 Did that high spirit loftier rise ; 
 While bright, serene, determinate, 
 
 His looks are lifted to the skies, 
 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 life 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 light 
 
 Watch through the hours of Slavery's night 
 For vengeance on the 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 Haf ed fell, 
 And swear them on those lone remains 
 Of their lost country's ancient fanes, — 
 Never, while breath of life shall live 
 Within them, never to forgive 
 The accursed race, whose ruthless chain 
 Hath left on Iran's neck a stain 
 Blood, blood alone can cleanse again ! 
 14 
 
,210 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 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 twined, 
 More proudly than the youth surveys 
 
 That pile, which through the gloom behind. 
 Half lighted by the altar's fire, 
 Glimmers — his destined funeral pyre ! 
 Heap'd by his own, his comrades' hands, 
 
 Of every wood of odourous 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 Heaven to roses turn'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 ? 
 What plans he now ? what thinks or dreams ? 
 Alas ! why stands he musing here. 
 When every moment teems with fear ? 
 ' Haf ed, mine own beloved Lord,' 
 She kneeling cries, * first, last, adored ! 
 If in that soul thou'st ever felt 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 211 
 
 Half what thy lips impassion'd swore, 
 Here, on my knees, that never knelt 
 
 To any but their God before, 
 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 in thine, 
 
 Those eyes before me smiling thus, 
 Through good and ill, through storm and shine. 
 
 The world's a world of love for us ! 
 On some calm blessed shore we'll dwell, 
 Where 't is 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 kneeling, 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-heaved 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. 
 
212 LALLA 1{OOKH. 
 
 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 threw 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. 
 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 dimm'd, not stain'd, its light. 
 Yet, though subdued the unnerving thrill. 
 Its warmth, its weakness linger'd still. 
 
 So touching in each look and tone 
 That the fond, fearing, hoping maid 
 Half counted on the flight she pray'd. 
 
 Half thought the hero's soul was grown 
 
 As soft, as yielding as her own. 
 And smiled 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, — 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 213 
 
 Oh, comfort thee ; for, safe and blest. 
 We'll meet in that calm region yet ! ' 
 
 Scarce had she time to ask her heart 
 If good or ill these words impart, 
 When the roused 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 
 The storm-fiend at his rising blows. 
 Full well his Chieftains, sworn and true 
 Through life and death, that signal knew ; 
 For 'twas the appointed warning-blast. 
 The 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 gayly 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 charged the wind, 
 And the white ox-tails stream'd behind. 
 Looking as if the steeds they rode 
 
214 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 Were wing'd, and every Chief a God ! 
 How fallen, how alter'd now ! how wan 
 Each scarr'd and faded visage shone, 
 As round the burning shrine they came ! 
 
 How deadly was the glare it cast. 
 As mute they paused before the flame 
 
 To light their torches as they pass'd ! 
 *T was silence all — the youth had plann'd 
 The duties of his soldier-band ; 
 And each determined brow declares 
 His faithful Chieftains well know 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 placed her in the shelter'd seat, 
 And press'd 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 forever. 
 And yet to her this sad caress 
 
 Gives hope — so fondly hope can err ! 
 'Twas joy, she thought, joy's mute excess — 
 
 Their happy flight's dear harbinger ; 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 215 
 
 'T was warmth — assurance — tenderness, — 
 'T was anything but leaving her. 
 
 Haste, haste ! ' she cried, * the clouds grow dark, 
 But still, ere night, we'll reach the bark ; 
 And by to-morrow's dawn — oh, bliss ! — 
 
 With thee upon the sun-bright deep. 
 Far off, I'll but remember this. 
 
 As some dark vanish'd dream of sleep ; 
 And thou ' But ah ! — he answers not : 
 
 Good Heaven ! — 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. 
 
 ' Haf ed ! my Haf ed ! — if it be 
 Thy will, thy doom this night to die, 
 
 Let me but stay to die with thee, 
 And I will bless thy loved name, 
 Till 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 — 
 
216 LALLA T^OOKH. 
 
 He yet may come — for him I pray — 
 Haf ed ! dear Haf ed ! ' — All the way 
 
 In wild lamentings, that would touch 
 A heart of stone, she shriek'd his name 
 To the dark woods — no Haf ed 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'll never meet on earth again ! 
 
 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, loved 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 
 From the land-side it comes, and loud 
 Rings through the chasm ; as if the crowd 
 Of fearful things, that haunt that dell, 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 217 
 
 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, reclimb'd the steep 
 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, 
 The 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 ? 
 
218 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 No — God of Iran's burning skies, 
 Thou scorn'st the 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 Gheber's 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 ! ' 
 
 Down the precipitous rocks they sprung. 
 While vigor, more than human, strung 
 Each arm and heart. — The exulting foe 
 Still through the dark defiles below, 
 Track'd 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 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 2l9 
 
 Yet darkling in the Moslem's way ; 
 
 Fit spot to make invaders rue 
 
 The many fallen before the few. 
 
 The torrents from that morning's sky 
 
 Had fiU'd the narrow chasm breast high, 
 
 And, on each side, aloft and wild, 
 
 Huge cliffs and toppling crags were piled, — 
 
 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 
 
 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 ! 
 Now, Ghebers, now — if e'er your blades 
 
 Had point or prowess, prove them now ! 
 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. 
 
220 LALLA T^OOKH. 
 
 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-quench'd brands that o'er the flood 
 Lie scatter' d 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, 
 'Twixt 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 ; 
 Countless as toward some flame at night 
 The North's dark insects wing their flight. 
 And quench or perish in its light, 
 To this terrific spot they pour — 
 Till, bridged with Moslem bodies o'er, 
 It bears aloft their slippery tread. 
 And o'er the dying and the dead, — 
 Tremendous causeway ! — on they pass. 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 221 
 
 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 ! 
 
 Whose 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 Hafed's side, 
 
 Who, fronting to the foe, trod back 
 
 Toward 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 the 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 escaped — guide, torches gone ; 
 
 By torrent-beds and labyrinths crost. 
 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 : 
 
222 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 TiU, wilder'd by the far-off lights 
 Yet glittering up those gloomy heights, 
 Their footing, mazed and lost, they miss, 
 And down the darkling precipice 
 Are dash'd into the deep abyss ; 
 Or midway hang, impaled on rocks, 
 A banquet, yet alive, 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 Hafed'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 : 't was she. 
 
 His heart's pure planet, shining yet 
 Above the waste of memory. 
 
 When all life's other lights were set. 
 And never to his mind before 
 Her image such enchantment wore. 
 It seem'd as if each thought that stain'd, 
 
 Each fear that chill'd their loves, was past ; 
 And not one cloud of earth remain'd 
 
 Between him and her radiance cast ; — 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 223 
 
 As if to charms, 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 — 't was the tone 
 
 Of a loved friend, the only one, 
 
 Of all his warriors, left with life 
 
 From that short night's tremendous strife. 
 
 And must we then, my Chief, die here ? 
 
 Foes round us, and the Shrine so near ! ' 
 
 These words have roused the last remains 
 
 Of life within him. ' What ! not yet 
 Beyond the reach of Moslem chains ! ' 
 
 The thought could make e'en Death forget 
 His icy bondage ; with a bound 
 
 He springs, all bleeding, from the ground, 
 And grasps his comrade's arm, now grown 
 E'en 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 ; 
 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 Heaven ! 't is past ; 
 
224 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 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 ruffian's tread. 
 
 The mark for every coward's spear ? 
 No, by yon altar's sacred beams ! ' 
 He cries, and, with a strength that seems 
 Not of this world, uplifts the frame 
 Of the fallen Chief, and toward the flame 
 Bears him along ; — with death-damp hand 
 
 The corpse upon the pyre he lays. 
 Then lights 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 efPort, ere the fires 
 Have harm'd one glorious limb, expires ! 
 
 What shriek was that on Oman's tide ? 
 
 It came from yonder drifting bark, 
 That just hath caught upon her side 
 
 The death-light — and again is dark. 
 It is the boat — ah, why delayed ? — 
 That bears the wretched Moslem maid ; 
 
THE FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 225 
 
 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 hoped 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 Hafed'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 ; 
 While every eye, in mute dismay. 
 
 Was toward that fatal mountain turn'd, 
 Where 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 ! 't was such 
 As those who feel could paint too well, 
 But none e'er felt and lived to tell ! 
 'T was not alone the dreary state 
 16 
 
226 LALLA T^OOKH. 
 
 Of a lorn spirit crush'd by fate, 
 
 When, though no more remains to dread, 
 
 The panic chill will not depart ; 
 When, though the inmate Hope be dead, 
 
 Her ghost still haunts the mouldering heart. 
 No — pleasures, hopes, affections, gone. 
 The wretch may bear, and yet live on, 
 Like things within the cold rock found 
 Alive, when all 's congeal'd around. 
 But there's a blank repose in this, 
 A calm stagnation, that were bliss 
 To the keen, burning, harrowing pain, 
 Now felt through all thy breast and brain ; — 
 That spasm of terror, mute, intense, 
 That breathless, agonized suspense. 
 From 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 
 That starlight o'er the waters thrown — 
 No joy but that, to make her blest. 
 
 And the fresh, buoyant sense of being, 
 Which bounds in youth's yet careless breast, — 
 Itself a star, not borrowing light, 
 But in its own glad essence bright. 
 
THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS, 227 
 
 How different now ! — But hark ! again 
 The yell of havoc rings ! — brave men, 
 In vain, with beating hearts, ye stand 
 On the bark's edge — in vain each hand 
 Half draws the falchion from its sheath; 
 
 All's o'er — in rust your blades may lie: 
 He, at whose word they 've scatter'd death, 
 
 E'en now, this night, himself must die ! 
 Well may ye look to yon dim tower. 
 
 And ask, and wondering guess, what means 
 The battle-cry at this dead hour ! 
 
 Ah, she could tell you — she who leans 
 Unheeded there, pale, sunk, aghast. 
 With brow against the dew-cold 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 ! — 't is a torch's light : 
 
 What bodes its solitary glare ? 
 In gasping silence toward the Shrine 
 All eyes are turn'd — thine, Hinda, thine 
 
 Fix their last fading life-beams there. 
 'T was but a moment : fierce and high 
 The death-pile blazed into the sky. 
 And far away, o'er rock and flood, 
 
 Its melancholy radiance sent ; 
 While Hafed, like a vision, stood 
 Reveal'd before the burning pyre, 
 
228 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 Tall, shadowy, like a Spirit of Fire 
 
 Shrined in its own grand element ! 
 * *T is 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 heart-broken shriek she gave, — 
 Then sprung, as if to reach that blaze. 
 Where still she fix'd her dying gaze. 
 And, gazing, sunk into the wave, — 
 Deep, deep, — where never care or pain 
 Shall reach her innocent heart again ! 
 
 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 to light up her tomb. 
 
 And still, when the merry date-season is burning. 
 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 FIRE-IVORSHIPPERS. 229 
 
 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. 
 
 Nor shall Iran, beloved of her Hero, forget thee, 
 Though tyrants watch over her tears as they start; 
 
 Close, 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-wreathed chamber, 
 We, Peris of Ocean, by moonlight have slept. 
 
 We '11 dive where the gardens of coral lie darkling. 
 And plant all the rosiest stems at thy head; 
 
 We '11 seek where the sands of the Caspian 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. 
 
230 LALLA T{OOKH, 
 
 The singular placidity with which Fadladeen had 
 listened, during the latter part of this obnoxious 
 story, surprised the Princess and Feramorz exceed- 
 ingly ; 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, imme- 
 diately on their arrival at Cashmere, to give infor- 
 mation to the King of Bucharia of the very danger- 
 ous 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 
 Feramorz, and a place to Fadladeen), there would 
 be an end, he feared, of all legitimate government 
 in Bucharia. He could not help, however, auguring 
 better both for himself and the cause of potentates 
 in general ; and it was the pleasure arising from 
 these mingled anticipations that diffused such un- 
 usual satisfaction through his features, and made 
 his eyes shine out, like poppies of the desert, over 
 the wide and lifeless wilderness of that countenance- 
 
LALLA T{OOKH. 231 
 
 Having decided upon the Poet's chastisement in 
 this manner, he thought it but humanity to spare 
 him the minor tortures of criticism. Accordingly, 
 when they assembled the following evening in the 
 pavilion, and Lalla E-ookh was expecting 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 passed off 
 into a panegyric upon all Mussulman sovereigns, 
 more particularly his august and Imperial master, 
 Aurungzebe, — the wisest and best of the descend- 
 ants of Timur, — who, among other great things he 
 had done for mankind, had given to him, Fadladeen, 
 the very profitable 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, 
 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 migrations to 
 Cashmere. Here often had the Light of the Faith, 
 Jehan-Guire, been known to wander with his be- 
 loved and beautiful Nourmahal ; and here would 
 Lalla Rookh have been happy to remain forever, 
 giving up the throne of Bucharia and the world for 
 
232 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 Feramorz and love in this sweet, lonely valley. But 
 the time was now fast approaching when she must 
 see him no longer, — or, what was still worse, behold 
 him with eyes whose every look belonged to another ; 
 and there was a melancholy preciousness in these 
 last moments, which made her heart cling to them 
 as it would to life. During the latter part of 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. But here, in this dear val- 
 ley, every moment appeared an age of pleasure ; 
 she saw him all day, and was, therefore, all day 
 happy, — resembling, she often thought, that people 
 of Zinge, who attribute the unfading cheerfulness 
 they enjoy to one genial star that rises nightly over 
 their heads. 
 
 The whole party, indeed, seemed in their liveliest 
 mood during the few days they passed in this de- 
 lightful solitude. The young attendants of the 
 Princess, who were here allowed a much 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. While Fad- 
 ladeen, in addition to the spiritual comfort derived 
 by him from a pilgrimage to the tomb of the Saint 
 from whom the valley is named, had also opportu- 
 
LALLA T{OOKH. 233 
 
 nities of indulging, 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 granted, 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, in- 
 terrupted only by the dipping of the wings of birds 
 in its marble basins filled with the pure water of 
 those hills, was to Lalla Rookh all that her heart 
 could fancy of fragrance, coolness, and almost heav- 
 enly tranquillity. As the Prophet said of Damascus, 
 " It was too delicious " ; and here, in listening to the 
 sweet voice of Feramorz, or reading in his eyes 
 what yet he never dared to tell her, the most ex- 
 quisite moments of her whole life were passed. One 
 evening, when they had been talking of the Sultana 
 Nourmahal, the Light of the Haram, who had so 
 often wandered among these flowers, and fed with 
 her own hands, in those marble basins, the small 
 shining fishes of which she was so fond, — the youth, 
 in order to delay the moment of separation, pro- 
 posed 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 
 
234 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 lovers' quarrel which took place between her and 
 the Emperor during a Feast of Koses at Cashmere ; 
 and would remind the Princess of that difference 
 between Haroun-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 Feramorz had unluck- 
 ily forgotten his own lute in the valley, he borrowed 
 the vina of Lalla Rookh's little Persian slave, and 
 thus began : — 
 
THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 
 
 Who has not heard of the vale of Cashmere, 
 
 With its roses the brightest that earth ever gave, 
 
 Its temples, and grottos, and fountains as clear 
 As the love-lighted eyes that hung over their wave? 
 
 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 lingering to take 
 A last look of her mirror at night ere she goes ! — 
 When the shrines through the foliage 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 mellowly shines 
 The light o'er its palaces, gardens, and shrines ; 
 When the water-falls gleam, like a quick fall of stars. 
 And the nightingale's hymn from the Isle of Chenars 
 Is broken by laughs and light echoes of feet 
 
236 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 From the cool shining walks where the young people 
 
 meet. 
 Or at morn, — when the magic of daylight awakes 
 A new wonder each minute, as slowly it breaks, 
 Hills, cupolas, fountains, call'd forth every one 
 Out of darkness, as if but just born of the Sun ; 
 When the Spirit of Fragrance is up with the day, 
 From his Haram of night-flowers stealing away ; 
 And the wind, full of wantonness, woos like a lover 
 The young aspen-trees, till they tremble all over ; 
 When the East is as warm as the light of first hopes, 
 
 And Day, with his banner of radiance unfurl'd. 
 Shines in through the mountainous portal that opes, 
 
 Sublime, from that Valley of Bliss 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 — all 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 ; 
 The joyous time, when pleasures pour 
 Profusely round, and in their shower 
 Hearts open, like the Season's Rose, — 
 
 The Floweret of a hundred leaves, 
 Expanding while the dew-fall flows. 
 
 And every leaf its balm receives. 
 
THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 237 
 
 '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 hegan to lift their heads, 
 Refresh'd from their embroider'd beds 
 Where they had slept the sun away, 
 And waked to moonlight and to play. 
 All were abroad — the busiest hive 
 On Bela's hills is less alive. 
 When saffron-beds are full in flower, 
 Than look'd 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 lighted 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 't was night. 
 And all were free, and wandering. 
 
 And all exclaim 'd to all they met. 
 That never did the summer bring 
 
 So gay a Feast of Roses yet ; — 
 
238 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 The moon had never shed a light 
 
 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 ! 
 It seem'd as though from all the bowers 
 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 fallen upon it from the sky ! 
 And then the sounds of joy, — the beat 
 Of tabors and of dancing feet ; — 
 The minaret-crier's chant of glee 
 Sung from his lighted gallery. 
 And answer'd by a ziraleet 
 From neighbouring Haram, wild and sweet; 
 The merry laughter, echoing 
 From 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 that line the way. 
 Flinging, unawed by slave or mother, 
 Handfuls of roses at each other. 
 
 Then, the sounds from the Lake, the low whispering 
 in boats, 
 
THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 239 
 
 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, 
 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 feeling, 
 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 loved One, — what a rapture is his 
 Who in moonlight and music thus sweetly may glide 
 O'er the Lake of Cashmere, with that One by his side ! 
 If woman can make the worst wilderness dear. 
 Think, think what a Heaven she must make of 
 
 Cashmere ! 
 
 So felt the magnificent Son of Acbar, 
 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 Nourmahal. 
 When free and uncrown'd as the Conqueror roved 
 By the banks of that Lake, with his only beloved. 
 He saw, in the wreaths she would playfully snatch 
 From the hedges, a glory his crown could not match. 
 And pref err'd in his heart the least ringlet that curl'd 
 Down her exquisite neck to the throne of the world. 
 
240 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 There 's a beauty, forever unchangingly bright, 
 Like the long sunny lapse of a summer-day's light. 
 Shining on, shining on, by no shadow made tender, 
 Till Love falls asleep in its sameness of splendour. 
 This was not the beauty — oh, nothing like this, — 
 That to young Nourmahal gave such magic of bliss ! 
 But that loveliness, ever in motion, which plays 
 Like the light upon autumn's soft shadowy days. 
 Now here and now there, giving warmth as it flies 
 From the lip 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 Heaven 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 e'en in the tranquillest climes 
 Light breezes will ruffle the blossoms sometimes, — 
 The short, passing anger but seem'd to awaken 
 New beauty, like flowers that are sweetest when 
 
 shaken. 
 If tenderness touch'd her, the dark of her eye 
 At once took a darker, a heavenlier dye. 
 From the depth of whose shadow, like holy revealings 
 From innermost shrines, came the light of her feel- 
 ings. 
 Then her mirth — oh, 'twas sportive as ever took wing 
 From the heart with a burst, like the wild-bird in 
 
 spring ; 
 Illumed by a wit that would fascinate sages. 
 Yet playful as Peris just loosed from their cages. 
 
THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 241 
 
 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, — 
 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 
 Nourmahal the proud Lord of the East for her 
 
 slave : 
 And tho' bright was his Haram — a living parterre 
 Of the flowers of this planet, — though treasures 
 
 were there 
 For which Soliman's self might have given 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 Nourmahal ! 
 
 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 o" a trance. 
 That one might think, who came by chance 
 
 Into the Vale this happy night. 
 
 He saw that City of Delight 
 In Fairy-land whose streets and towers 
 Are made of gems and light and flowers ! — 
 
 Where is the loved Sultana ? where, 
 
 When mirth brings out the young and fair, 
 16 
 
242 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 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 ; 
 
 That stood the storm when waves were rough, 
 
 Yet in a sunny hour fall off, — 
 
 Like ships that have gone down at sea, 
 
 When heaven 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 forever. 
 
THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 243 
 
 Oh, you that have the charge of Love, 
 
 Keep him in rosy bondage bound, 
 As in the Fields of Bliss above 
 
 He sits, with flowerets f etter'd round ; 
 Loose not a tie that round him clings. 
 Nor ever let him use his wings ; 
 For e'en 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 difference, of this dangerous kind. 
 
 By which, though light, 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 Nourmahal, 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. 
 
244 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 In vain the loveliest cheeks and 
 This Eden of the Earth supplies 
 
 Come crowding round : the cheeks are pale, 
 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 Nourmahal, 
 
 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 inspired 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 't is now. 
 Nay, rather, — as the west wind's sigh 
 Freshens the flower it passes by, — 
 Time's wing but seem'd, in stealing o'er. 
 To leave her lovelier than before. 
 Yet on her smiles a sadness hung. 
 And when, as oft, she spoke or sung 
 
THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 245 
 
 Of other worlds, there came a light 
 From her dark eyes so strangely bright 
 That all believed nor man nor earth 
 Were conscious of Namouna's birth ! 
 All spells and talismans she knew, 
 
 From the great Mantra, which around 
 The Air's sublimer Spirits drew. 
 
 To the gold gems of Afric, bound 
 Upon the wandering Arab's arm. 
 To keep him from the Siltim's harm. 
 And she had pledged her powerful art, — 
 Pledged 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 Nourmahal ! 
 
 'T was midnight ; through the lattice, wreathed 
 
 With woodbine, many a perfume breathed 
 
 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, — 
 
 When thus Namouna : * 'T is the hour 
 
 That scatters spells on herb and flower, 
 
 And garlands might be gather'd now. 
 
 That, twined around the sleeper's brow, 
 
 Would make him dream of such delights, 
 
246 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 Such miracles and dazzling sights, 
 As Genii of the Sun behold, 
 At evening, from their tents of gold, 
 Upon the horizon — where they play 
 Till twilight comes, and, ray by ray, 
 Their sunny mansions melt away. 
 Now, too, a chaplet might be wreathed 
 Of buds o'er which the moon has breathed, 
 Which, worn by her whose love has stray'd, 
 
 Might bring some Peri from the skies. 
 Some sprite, whose very soul is made 
 
 Of flowerets' breaths and lovers' sighs. 
 
 And who might tell ' 
 
 ' For me, for me,* 
 Cried Nourmahal impatiently, — 
 ' Oh, twine that wreath for me to-night ! * 
 Then, rapidly, with foot as light 
 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-blown lilies of the river, 
 And those sweet flowerets that unfold 
 
 Their buds on Camadeva's quiver ; 
 The tuberose, 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 ; 
 
THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 247 
 
 Amaranths, such as crown the maids 
 That wander through Zamara's shades ; 
 And the white moon-flower, as it shows, 
 On Serendib's high crags, to those 
 Who near the isle at evening sail. 
 Scenting her clove-trees in the gale ; 
 In short, all flowerets and all plants, — 
 
 From the divine Amrita tree. 
 That blesses heaven's inhabitants 
 
 With fruits of immortality, 
 Down to the basil tuft, that waves 
 Its fragrant blossom 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 Nourmahal, 
 Who heaps her baskets with the flowers 
 
 And leaves, till they can hold no more ; 
 Then to Namouna flies, and showers 
 
 Upon her lap the shining store. 
 
 With what delight the 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. 
 
248 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 And 't was, 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. 
 Fill'd with the cool inspiring smell, 
 The Enchantress now begins her spell. 
 Thus singing as she winds and weaves 
 In mystic form the glittering leaves : — 
 
 * I know where the wing'd visions dwell 
 That round the night-bed play; 
 I know each herb and floweret'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. 
 
 < 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 dream of a future 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 LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 249 
 
 < The visions, that oft to worldly eyes 
 The glitter of mines unfold, 
 Inhabit the mountain-herb 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 pluck'd at night! 
 Then hasten we, maid, 
 To twine our braid ; 
 To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. 
 
 * The dream of the injured, patient mind. 
 
 That smiles at the wrongs of men. 
 Is found in the bruised and wounded rind 
 Of the cinnamon, sweetest then. 
 Then hasten we, maid, 
 To twine our braid; 
 To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade.' 
 
 No sooner was the flowery crown 
 
 Placed on her head, than sleep came down, 
 
 Gently as nights of summer fall, 
 
 Upon the lids of Nourmahal ; 
 
 And, suddenly, a laneful 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 ; 
 
260 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 And now a Spirit, f orm'd, 't would seem, 
 Of music and of light, — so fair, 
 
 So brilliantly 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 warbling fount I come, 
 
 Call'd by that moonlight garland 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, 
 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. 
 
THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 251 
 
 * Mine is the charm whose mystic sway 
 The Spirits of past Delight obey; 
 Let but the tuneful talisman 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. 
 
 * 'T is I that mingle in one sweet measure 
 The past, the present, and future of pleasure ; 
 When Memory links 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 warrior's heart, when touch'd by me. 
 Can as downy soft and as yielding be 
 As his own white plume, that high amid death 
 Thro' the field hast 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, 
 Whose glimpses are again withdrawn, 
 
12 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 As if the morn had waked, and then 
 Shut close her lids of light again. 
 And Nourmahal is up and trying 
 
 The wonders of her lute, whose strings — 
 Oh, hliss ! — now murmur like the sighing 
 
 From that ambrosial Spirit's wings. 
 And then, her voice — 't is more than human ; 
 
 Never, till now, had it been given 
 To lips of any mortal woman 
 
 To utter notes so fresh from heaven ; 
 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 I 
 But, far from fading, it but grows 
 Richer, 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). 
 The Imperial Selim held a feast 
 
 In his magnificent Shalimar : 
 
THE LIGHT OF THE Hy^RAM. 253 
 
 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, 
 
 Glide through its foliage, and drink beams 
 
 Of beauty from its founts and streams ; 
 
 And all those wandering minstrel-maids. 
 
 Who leave — how can they leave ? — the shades 
 
 Of that dear Valley, and are found 
 
 Singing in Gardens of the 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 ; 
 Daughters of Love from Cyprus' rocks, 
 With Paphian diamonds in their locks ; 
 Light Peri forms, such as there are 
 On the gold meads of Candahar ; 
 And they, before whose sleepy eyes 
 
 In their own bright Kathaian 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. 
 
 Everything young, everything fair, 
 From East and West is blushing there, 
 Except — except — O Nourmabal ! 
 
264 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 Thou loveliest, dearest of them all, 
 
 The one whose smile shone out alone. 
 
 Amidst a world the only one ; 
 
 Whose light, among so many lights, 
 
 Was like that star on starry nights 
 
 The seaman singles from the sky 
 
 To steer his bark forever 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 unnoticed with a band 
 Of lutanists 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 roved, with beating heart, around, 
 
 And waited, trembling, for the minute 
 When she might try if still the sound 
 
 Of her loved lute had magic in it. 
 
 The board was spread with fruits and wine : 
 With grapes of gold, like those that shine 
 On Casbin's hills ; pomegranates full 
 
 Of melting sweetness, and the pears 
 And sunniest apples that Caubul 
 
 In all its thousand gardens bears ; 
 Plantains, the golden and the green, 
 
THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 255 
 
 Malaya's nectar'd mangusteen ; 
 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 flovrers, 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 threw : 
 Amber RosoUi, — the bright dew 
 From vineyards of the Green-Sea gushing ; 
 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, was blushing 
 
 Melted within the goblets there ! 
 
 And amply Selim quaffs of each, 
 And seems resolved the flood shall reach 
 His inward heart, shedding around 
 A genial deluge, as they run, 
 
256 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 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 freshen'd glow 
 Of her own country maidens' looks, 
 When warm they rise from Teflis' brooks ; 
 And with an eye whose restless ray, 
 
 Full, floating, dark — oh, he who knows 
 His heart is weak, of Heaven should pray 
 
 To guard him from such eyes as those ! — 
 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. 
 
THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 257 
 
 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 oped by a bee; 
 
 And precious their tears as that rain from the sky. 
 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 ; 
 
 And 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. 
 
 And, bless'd with the odour our goblet gives forth. 
 What Spirit the sweets of his Eden would miss ? 
 
 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 breathed around, 
 That all stood hush'd and wondering, 
 
 And turn'd and look'd into the air. 
 As if they thought to see the wing 
 
 Of Israfil the Angel there ; 
 17 
 
268 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 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 bliss 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 love on till they die ! 
 
 One hour of a passion so sacred is worth 
 
 Whole ages of heartless and wandering bliss; 
 
 And oh, if there be an Elysium on earth, 
 It is this, it is this!' 
 
 'T was not the air, 't was 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 ! ' 
 While Selim, 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 touch'd for utterance. 
 
 Now motion'd with his hand for more : 
 
THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 259 
 
 *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 ? 
 
 < Our rocks are rough, but smiling there 
 The acacia waves her yellow hair. 
 Lonely and sweet, nor loved 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 — thine Arab maid will be 
 The loved and lone acacia-tree, 
 
 The antelope, whose feet shall bless 
 With their light sound thy loneliness. 
 
 * Oh, there are looks and tones that dart 
 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, 
 Predestined to have all our sighs. 
 And never be forgot again. 
 Sparkled and spoke before us then! 
 
 *So came thine every glance and tone, 
 When first on me they breathed and shone ; 
 New, as if brought from other spheres. 
 Yet welcome as if loved for years. 
 
260 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 < 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. 
 When first 't is by the lapwing found. 
 
 < But if for me thou dost forsake 
 Some other maid, and rudely break 
 Her worshipp'd image from its base. 
 To give to me the ruin'd place, — 
 
 *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, e'en 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, — 't was 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 't were fix'd by magic there, — 
 
THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 261 
 
 And naming her, so long unnamed, 
 So long unseen, wildly exclaim'd, 
 * O Nourmahal ! O Nourmahal ! 
 
 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 Nourmahal, his Haram's Light! 
 And well do vanish'd frowns enhance 
 The charm of every brighten' d glance ; 
 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 ! ' 
 
262 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 Fadladeen, at the conclusion of this light rhap- 
 sody, 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 re- 
 capitulated the epithets "frivolous" — "inharmoni- 
 ous" — "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 flow- 
 ers on board. The profusion, indeed, of flowers 
 and birds which this poet had ready on all occasions, 
 — not to mention dews, gems, etc., — was a most 
 oppressive kind of opulence to his hearers ; and had 
 the unlucky effect of giving to his style all the glit- 
 ter of the flower-garden without its method, and all 
 the flutter of the aviary without its song. In addi- 
 tion 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 Unfaithful, wine ; — " being, per- 
 haps," 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 illu- 
 
LALLA T{OOKH, 263 
 
 mination to the grape, like that painted porcelain, 
 so curious and so rare, whose images are only visi- 
 ble 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 their 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- Feramorz. 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 dreary 
 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 
 
264 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 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 more per- 
 fect than the divinest images in the house of Azor, 
 he should receive a pale and inanimate victim, upon 
 whose cheek neither health nor pleasure bloomed, 
 and from whose eyes Love had fled, — to hide him- 
 self in her heart ? 
 
 If anything could have charmed away the melan- 
 choly 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 splendor of the minarets and pagodas 
 that shone out from the depth of its woods, nor the 
 grottos, hermitages, and miraculous fountains which 
 make every spot of that region holy ground, — 
 neither the countless water-falls 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 
 
LALL^ TiOOKH. 265 
 
 upon her entrance into the Valley, and the magni- 
 ficence with which the roads all along were deco- 
 rated, 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 illu- 
 minated 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 Brahmin might fancy he beheld 
 that grove in whose purple shade the God of Battles 
 was born, bursting into a flame at the moment of 
 his birth ; — while, at other times, a quick and play- 
 ful irradiation continued to brighten all the fields 
 and gardens by which they passed, forming a line 
 of dancing lights along the horizon ; like the mete- 
 ors 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 illumin- 
 ations, 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 
 
266 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 gratitude which kindness from those we cannot love 
 excites ; and that their best blandishments come 
 over the heart with all that chilling and deadly 
 sweetness which we can fancy in the cold, odorifer- 
 ous 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 never 
 before had a night of more wakeful and anxious 
 thought been passed in the Hapj)y Valley, yet, when 
 she rose in the morning, and her Ladies came 
 around her, to assist in the adjustment of the bridal 
 ornaments, they thought they had never seen her 
 look half so beautiful. What she had lost of the 
 bloom and radiancy of her charms was more than 
 made up by that intellectual expression, that soul 
 beaming forth from the eyes, which is worth all the 
 rest of loveliness. When they had tinged her fingers 
 with the Henna leaf, and placed upon her brow a 
 small coronet of jewels, of the shape worn by the 
 ancient Queens of Bucharia, they flung over her 
 head the rose-coloured 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 at parting had 
 hung about her neck. 
 
 The morning was as fresh and fair as the maid 
 on whose nuptials it rose, and the shining Lake, all 
 
LALLA T{OOKH. 267 
 
 covered with boats, the minstrels playing upon the 
 shores of the islands, and the crowded summer- 
 houses 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 Feramorz. So much was her imagination haunted 
 by this thought, that there was scarcely an islet or 
 boat she passed on the way, at which her heart did 
 not flutter with the momentary fancy that he was 
 there. Happy, in her eyes, the humblest slave upon 
 whom the light of his dear looks fell! — in the barge 
 immediately after the Princess sat Fadladeen, with 
 his silken curtains thrown widely apart, that all 
 might have the benefit of his august presence, and 
 with his head full of the speech he was to deliver 
 to the King, " concerning Feramorz, and literature, 
 and the Chabuk, as connected therewith." 
 
 They now had entered the canal which leads 
 from the Lake to the splendid domes and saloons of 
 the Shalimar, and went gliding on through the 
 gardens that ascended from each bank, full of flower- 
 ing shrubs that made the air all perfume ; while 
 from the middle of the canal rose jets of water, 
 smooth and unbroken, to such a dazzling height, 
 that they stood like tall pillars of diamond in the 
 
268 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 sunshine. After sailing under the arches of various 
 saloons, they at length arrived at the last and most 
 magnificent, where the monarch awaited the com- 
 ing of his bride ; and such was the agitation of her 
 heart and frame that it was with difficulty she could 
 walk up the marble steps, which were covered with 
 cloth of gold for her ascent from the barge. At 
 the end of the hall stood two thrones, as precious 
 as the Cerulean Throne of Coolburga, on one of 
 which sat Aliris, the youthful King of Bucharia, 
 and on the other was, in a few minutes, to be placed 
 the most beautiful Princess in the world. Imme- 
 diately 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 screamed with surprise, and fainted 
 at his feet. It was Feramorz himself that stood 
 before her ! Feramorz 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 
 
LALLA T{OOKH. 269 
 
 the following week saw him in possession of an ad- 
 ditional place, swearing by all the Saints of Islam 
 that never had there existed so great a poet as the 
 Monarch Aliris, and, moreover, 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 the 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 
 Feramorz. 
 
AUTHOR'S NOTES 
 
AUTHOR'S NOTES. 
 
 Page 21. — He embarked for Arabia. — These particulars of 
 the visit of the King of Bucharia to Aui-ungzebe are found in 
 Dow's "History of Hindostan," vol. iii. p. 392. 
 
 P. 21—Lalla iJooM.— Tulip cheek. 
 
 P. 21. — Leila. — The mistress of Mejnoun, upon whose story 
 so many romances in all the langfuages of the East are founded. 
 
 P. 21. — Shirine. — For the loves of this celebrated beauty 
 with Khosrou and with Ferhad, see D'Herbelot, Gibbon, 
 " Oriental Collections," etc. 
 
 P. 21. — Bewildi. — " The history of the loves of Dewild^ 
 and Chizer, the son of the Emperor Alia, is written in an ele- 
 gant poem, by the noble Chusero." — (Ferishta.) 
 
 P. 22. — Scattering of the Roses. — Gul Reazee. 
 
 P. 22. — Insignia of the Emperor'' s favour. — "One mark of 
 honour or knighthood bestowed by the Emperor is the per- 
 mission to wear a small kettledrum at the bows of their sad- 
 dles, which at first 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 ornament 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 Cashmere, and the feathers are 
 carefully collected for the King, who bestows them on his 
 nobles." — (Elphinstone's Account of Caubul.) 
 
 P. 22.— The great Keder Khan.—'' Khedar Khan, the Kha- 
 kan, or King of Turquestan beyond the Gihon (at the end of 
 18 
 
274 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 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 public exercises of genius, with four basins of gold 
 .and silver by him to distribute among the poets who excelled." 
 — (Richardson's " Dissertation," prefixed to his Dictionary.) 
 
 P. 23. — Gilt pine-apples. — "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." — (Scott's " Notes on the 
 Bahardanush.") 
 
 P. 23. — The Princesses own sumptuous litter. — In the poem 
 of " Zohair," in the " Moallakat," there is the following lively 
 description of " a company of maidens seated on camels ": — 
 
 " They are mounted in carriages covered with costly awn- 
 ings, 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-cloth, with every mark of a voluptuous 
 gayety. 
 
 "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." 
 
 P. 23. — With feathers of the Argus pheasanVs wing. — See 
 Bemier's description of the attendants on Raucha-nara Be- 
 gum, in her progress to Cashmere. 
 
 P. 24. — Aurungzehe was a munificent protector. — This hypo- 
 critical Emperor would have made a worthy associate of cer- 
 tain Holy Leagues. "He held the cloak of religion," 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 conse- 
 cration of this temple ; and made a practice of attending Di- 
 vine service there, in the humble dress of a Fakeer. But when 
 he lifted one hand to the Divinity, he, with the other, signed 
 
AUTHOR'S a^OTES. 275 
 
 warrants for the assassination of his relations." — (" History 
 of Hindostan," vol. iii. p. 335.) See also the curious letter of 
 Aurungzebe, given in the "Oriental Collections," vol. i. p. 320. 
 
 P. 24. — The diamond eyes of the Idol of Jaghernaut. — 
 "The idol at Jaghernaut has two fine diamonds for eyes. No 
 goldsmith is suffered to enter the Pagoda, one having stolen 
 one of these eyes, being locked up all night with the Idol." — 
 (Tavemier.) 
 
 P. 24:.— Royal Gardens of Delhi.— See a description of these 
 Royal Gardens in " An Account of the Present State of 
 Delhi," by Lieut. W. Franklin ; "Asiatic Researches," vol. 
 iv. p. 417. 
 
 P. 24. — Lake of Pearl. — "In the neighbourhood is Notte 
 Gill, or the Lake of Pearl, which receives this nanae from its 
 pellucid water." — (Pennant's "Hindostan.") 
 
 " Nasir Jung, encamped in the vicinity of the Lake of Ton- 
 oor, amused himself with sailing on that clear and beautiful 
 water, and gave it the fanciful name of Motee Talah, ' the 
 Lake of Pearls,' which it still retains." — (Wilke's " South of 
 India.") 
 
 P. 24. — One from the Isles of the West. — Sir Thomas Roe, 
 Ambassador from James I. to Jehan-Guire. 
 
 P. 25. — The loves of Wamak and Ezra. — "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." — (Note on the "Oriental 
 Tales.") 
 
 P. 25. — Zal and his mistress Bodahver. — Their amour is re- 
 counted in the Shah-Nameh of Ferdousi ; 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. — (See Champion's trans- 
 lation.) 
 
 P. 25. — The Combat of Rustam. — Rustam is the Hercules 
 of the Persians. For the particulars of his victory over the 
 
276 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 Sepeed Deeve, or White Demon, see " Oriental Collections," 
 vol. ii. p. 45. 
 
 "Near the city of Shirauz is an immense quadran^lar 
 monument, in commemoration of this combat, called the Ke- 
 laat-i-Deev Sepeed, or castle of the White Giant, which 
 Father Angelo, in his " Gazophilacium Persicum," p. 127, de- 
 clares to have been the most memorable monument of anti- 
 quity which he had seen in Persia." — (See Ouseley's "Persian 
 Miscellanies.") 
 
 P. 2^.— Tinkling of their golden anklets.—'''' The women of 
 the Idol, or dancing girls of the Pagoda, have little golden 
 bells fastened to their feet, and the soft harmonious tinkling 
 of which vibrates in unison with the exquisite melody of their 
 voices." — (Maurice's " Indian Antiquities,") 
 
 " The Arabian courtesans, like the Indian women, have 
 little golden bells fastened round their legs, neck, and elbows, 
 to the sound of which they dance before the King. The Ara- 
 bian princesses wear golden rings on their fingers, to which 
 little 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." — 
 (See Calmet's Dictionary, art. "Bells.") 
 
 P. 25.— TAaf delicious opium. — "Abou-Tige, ville de la 
 Th^baide, oti il croit beaucoup de pavot noir, dont se fait le 
 meilleur opium." — (D'Herbelot.) 
 
 P. 26.— CrisAna.— The Indian Apollo. " He and the three 
 Rdmas are described as youths of perfect beauty ; and the 
 princesses of Hindustdn were all passionately in love with 
 Crishna, who continues to this hour the darling God of the 
 Indian women."— (Sir W. Jones on the Gods of Greece, Italy, 
 and India.) 
 
 P. 26.— The shawl-goats ofTibet.—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. 
 
 P. 27.— Veiled Prophet of Khorassan.— For the real history 
 of this Impostor, whose original name was Hakem ben Has- 
 
JIUTHOR'S tJiOTES. 277 
 
 chem, and who was called Mokanna from the veil of silver 
 gauze (or, as others say, golden) which he always wore, see 
 D'Herbelot. 
 
 P. 29. — Province of the Sun. — "Khorassan signifies, in the 
 old Persian language. Province or Region of the Sun." — (Sir 
 W. Jones.) 
 
 P. 29. — Flowerets and fruits. — "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 streams, and gar- 
 dens." — (Ebn Haukal's Geography.) 
 
 P. 29. — Merou. — One of the royal cities of Khorassan. 
 
 P. 29. — Moussa. — Moses. 
 
 P. 29. — When down the Mount he trod. — "Ses disciples as- 
 suroient qu'il se couvroit le visage, pour ne pas ^blouir ceux 
 qui I'approchoient par I'^clat de son visage comme Moyse." 
 —(D'Herbelot.) 
 
 P. 30. — The Caliph'' s hue of night. — Black was the colour 
 adopted by the Caliphs of the House of Abbas, in their 
 sgarments, turbans, and standards. — " II faut remarquer ici 
 touehant les habits blancs des disciples de Hakem, que la 
 colour des habits, des coiffures et des ^tendards des Khalifes 
 Abassides ^tant la noire, ce chef de Rebelles ne pouvoit pas 
 choisir une qui lui fut plus oppos^e." — (D'Herbelot.) 
 
 P. 30. — Javelins of the light Kathaian reed. — " Our dark 
 javelins, exquisitely wrought of Khathaian reeds, slender and 
 delicate." — (Poem of " Amru.") 
 
 P. 30. — The stems that bloom on Iran^s rivers. — Piehula, used 
 anciently for arrows by the Persians. The Persians call this 
 plant Gaz. The celebrated shaft of Isfendiar, one of their 
 ancient heroes, was made of it. — " Nothing can be more beau- 
 tiful than the appearance of this plant in flower during the 
 rains on the banks of rivers, where it is usually interwoven 
 with a lovely twining aselepias." — (Sir W. Jones, " Botanical 
 Observations on Select Indian Plants.") 
 
 P. 30. — Chenar-tree. — The Oriental plane. " The chenar is 
 a delightful tree ; its bole is of a fine white and smooth bark ; 
 
278 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 and its foliage, which grows in a tuft at the summit, is of a 
 bright green." — (Morier's Travels.) 
 
 P. 31. — Brahma's burning founts. — The burning fountains 
 of Brahma near Chittagong, esteemed as holy. — (Turner.) 
 
 P. Zl.—Kaihay—Chxaa.. 
 
 P. 31. — Like tulip-beds. — " The name of tulip is said to be 
 of Turkish extraction, and given to the flower on account of 
 its resembling a turban." — (Beckmann's " History of Inven- 
 tions.") 
 
 P. 31. — Fur-bound bonnet of Bucharian shape. — ''The in- 
 habitants of Bucharia 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." — (Account 
 of Independent Tartary, in Pinkerton's Collection.) 
 
 P. 32. — 0''erwhelm^d in fight and captive to the Greek. — In 
 the war of the Caliph Mahadi against the Empress Irene, for 
 an account of which see Gibbon, vol. x. 
 
 P. 33. — The flying throne of star-taught Soliman. — This won- 
 derful throne was called the Star of the Genii. For a full 
 description of it, see the Fragment, translated by Captain 
 Franklin, from a Persian MS. entitled, "The History of 
 Jerusalem," ("Oriental Collections," vol. i. p. 235.) — When 
 Soliman travelled, the Eastern writers say, " He had a carpet 
 of green sUk on which his throne was placed, being of a pro- 
 digious 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 trans- 
 ported it, with all that were upon it, wherever 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 sim." 
 —(Sale's Koran, vol. ii. p. 214, note.) 
 
 P. 33. — In every chance and change, — The transmigration of 
 souls was one of Mokanna's doctrines. — (See D'Herbelot.) 
 
AUTHOR'S tKOTES, 279 
 
 P. 34. — All Heaven^ except the Proud One, knelt. — "And 
 when we said unto the angels, Worship Adam, they all wor- 
 shipped except Eblis (Lucifer), who refused." — (The Koran, 
 chap, ii.) 
 
 P. 34. — Through many a Prophefs breast. — This is accord- 
 ing to D'Herbelot's account of the doctrines of Mokanna : — 
 " Sa doctrine ^toit, que Dieu avoit pris une forme et figure 
 humaine, depuis qu'il eut command^ aux Anges d'adorer 
 Adam, le premier des hommes. Qu'apr^s la mort d'Adam, 
 Dieu ^toit apparu sous la figure de plusieurs Proph^tes, et 
 autres glands hommes qu'il avoit choisis, jusqu'k ce qu'il prit 
 celle d' Abu Moslem, Prince de Khorassan, lequel professoit 
 I'erreur de la Tennassukhiah on M^tempsychose ; et qu'aprfes 
 la mort de ee Prince, la Divinity dtoit pass^e et descendue en 
 sa personne." 
 
 P. 34. — Issa. — Jesus. 
 
 P. 37. — That ancient flood. — The Amoo, which rises in the 
 Belur Tag, or Dark Mountains, and, running nearly from east 
 to west, splits into two branches ; one of which falls into the 
 Caspian Sea, and the other into Aral Nahr, or the Lake of 
 Eagles. 
 
 P. 39.— TAe hulhul.—T)iQ nightingale. 
 
 P. 46.— Holy Room.— The Cities of Com (or Koom) and 
 Cashan are fuU of mosques, mausoleums, and sepulchres of 
 the descendants of Ali, the Saints of Persia. — (Chardin.) 
 
 P. 46. — Kishmee. — An island in the Persian Gulf, celebrated 
 for its white wine. 
 
 P. 46. — Zemzeni^s Spring of Holiness. — The miraculous 
 well at Mecca ; so called, says Sale, from the murmuring of 
 its waters. 
 
 P. 47. — Whom India serves, the monkey deity. — The God 
 Hannaman. — " Apes are in many parts of India highly vene- 
 rated, out of respect to the God Hannaman, a deity partaking 
 of the form of that race," — (Pennant's " Hindostan.") See a 
 curious account, in Stephen's " Persia," of a solemn embassy 
 from some part of the Indies to Goa, when the Portug^uese 
 
280 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 were there, offering vast treasures for the recovery of a mon- 
 key's tooth, which they held in great veneration, and which 
 had been taken away upon the conquest of the kingdom of 
 Jafanapatan. 
 
 P. 47. — Lucifer was right. — The resolution of Eblis not to 
 acknowledge the new creature, man, was, according to Ma- 
 hometan 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 afterwards 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 meantime, often visiting it, and Eblis (then one of the 
 angels nearest to God's presence, afterwards the devil) among 
 the rest ; but he, not contented with looking at it, kicked it 
 with his foot tUl it rung ; and knowing. God designed that 
 creature to be his superior, took a secret resolution never to 
 acknowledge him as such." — (Sale on the Koran.) 
 
 P. 47. — The light from dead merCs marrow. — A kind of lant- 
 ern 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 super- 
 stition. 
 
 P. 48. — Marble of which gods are made. — The material of 
 which images of Gaudma (the Birman Deity) are made, is 
 held sacred. " Birmans may not purchase the marble in mass, 
 but are suffered, and, indeed, encouraged, to buy figures of 
 the Deity ready made." — (Symes's " Ava," vol. ii. p. 376.) 
 
 P. 52. — Kerzrah flowers. — "It is commonly said in Persia 
 that if a man breathe in the hot south wind which in June or 
 July passes over that flower (the Kerzereh), it will kill him." 
 — (Thevenot.) 
 
 P. 54. — Within the crocodiWs stretch'' d jaws to come. — The 
 humming-bird is said to run this risk for the purpose of pick- 
 ing 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' 
 
 The ancient story concerning the Trochilus, or humming- 
 
AUTHOR'S CKOTES. 281 
 
 bird, entering with impunity into the mouth of the crocodile, 
 is firmly believed at Java. — (Barrow's " Cochin China.") 
 
 P. 56.— That rank and venomous /ooc?.— " Circum easdem 
 ripas (Nili, viz.) ales est Ibis. Ea serpentium populatur ova, 
 gratissimamque ex his escam nidis suis refert." — (Solinus.) 
 
 P. 57. — Yamtcheou. — " The Feast of Lanterns is celebrated 
 at Yamtcheou with more magnificence than anywhere else : 
 and the report goes that the illuminations there are so splen- 
 did 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 car- 
 ried 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. 156.) 
 
 P. 57. — Sceneries of bamboo-work. — See a description of the 
 nuptials of Vizier Alee in the "Asiatic Annual Register" for 
 1804. 
 
 P. 57. — Origin of these fantastic Chinese illuminations. — 
 " 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 ; 
 the afflicted father, with his family, ran thither, and, the 
 better to find her, he caused a great company of lanterns to 
 be lighted. All the inhabitants of the place thronged after 
 him with torches. The year ensuing they made fires upon 
 the shores the same day ; they continued the ceremony every 
 year, every one lighted his lantern, and by degrees it g^ew 
 into a custom." — (" Present State of China.") 
 
 P. 60. — Seba^s Queen could vanquish with that one. — "Thou 
 hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes." — (Sol. Song.) 
 
 P. 60. — The fingers^ ends with a bright roseate hue. — "They 
 tinged the ends of their fingers scarlet with henna, so that 
 
2.82 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 they resembled branches of coral." — ("Story of Prince Fut- 
 tun" in "Bahardanush.") 
 
 P. 60. — To give that long, dark languish to the eye. — "The 
 women blacken the inside of their eyelids with a powder 
 named the black kohol." — (Russel.) 
 
 " None of these ladies take themselves to be completely 
 dressed till they have tinged the hair and edges of their eye- 
 lids 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 drawing it after- 
 wards 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 antiquity ; for, besides the in- 
 stance 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 eyes with the powder of lead 
 ore.' " — (Shaw's Travels.) 
 
 P. 60. — The Champac's leaves of gold. — The appearance of 
 the blossoms of the gold-coloured Champac on the black hair 
 of the Indian women has supplied the Sanscrit poets with 
 many elegant allusions.— (See " Asiatic Researches," vol. iv.) 
 
 P. 60. — The sweet Elcaya. — A tree famous for its perfume, 
 and common on the hills of Yemen. — (Niebuhr.) 
 
 P. 60. — Which hows to all who seek its canopy. — A tree of 
 the genus mimosa, " which droops its branches whenever any 
 person approaches it, seeming as if it saluted those who retire 
 tmder its shade." — (Ibid.) 
 
 P. 61. — Spicy rods, such as illume at night. — " Cloves are a 
 principal ingredient in the composition of the perfumed rods, 
 which men of rank keep constantly burning in their pres- 
 ence."— (Turner's "Tibet.") 
 
 P. 62 /—Odoriferous woods of Comorin. — " C'est d'oii vient 
 le bois d'aloes que les Arabes appellent Oud Comari, et celui 
 du sandal, quis'y trouve en grande quantity." — (D'Herbelot.) 
 
AUTHOR'S O^OTES. 283 
 
 P. 62. — The crimson blossoms of the coral tree. — " Thousands 
 of variegated lories visit the coral trees." — (Barrow.) 
 
 P. 62. — Mecca'' s blue sacred pigeon. — "In Mecca there are 
 quantities of blue pigeons, which none will affright or abuse, 
 much less kUl." — (Pitt's account of the Mahometans.) 
 
 P. 62.— The thrush of Hindostan.— ' 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." — (Pennant's " Hindostan.") 
 
 P. 62. — Drunk with that sweet food whose scent hath lured 
 them. — 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 drunk to the earth." 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. 
 
 P. 62. — Build their high nests of budding cinnamon. — " That 
 bird which liveth in Arabia, and buildeth its nest with cinna- 
 mon." — (Browne's " Vulgar Errors.") 
 
 P. 62. — Like the green birds. — " The spirits of the martyrs 
 will be lodged in the crops of green birds." — (Gibbon, vol. ix. 
 p. 421.) 
 
 P. 62. — That impious King. — ^Shedad, who made the deli- 
 cious gardens of Irim, in imitation of Paradise, and was de- 
 stroyed by lightning the fixst time he attempted to enter them. 
 
 P. 64. — Hum themselves to sleep. — "My Pandits assure me 
 that the plant before us (the NUica) is their Sephaliea, thus 
 named because the bees are supposed to sleep on its blossoms." 
 — (Sir W. Jones.) 
 
 P. 66. — Captives to the King of Flowers. — " They deferred 
 it tm the King of Flowers should ascend his throne of enam- 
 eUed foliage."— ("The Bahardanush.") 
 
 P. 67. — A light golden chain-work round her hair. — "One of 
 the head-dresses of the Persian women is composed of a light 
 
284 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 golden chain-work, set with small pearls, with 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 below the ear." — (Hanway's Travels.) 
 
 P. 67.— The maids of Yezd and >SA{ms.— " Certainly the 
 women of Yezd are the handsomest women in Persia. The 
 proverb is, that to live happy a man must have a wife of 
 Yezd, eat the bread of Yezdecas, and drink the wine of 
 Shir as." — (Tavernier.) 
 
 P. 67. — Upon a musnud''s edge. — Musnuds are cushioned 
 seats, usually reserved for persons of distinction. 
 
 P. 67. — Mode of Isfahan. — The Persians, like the ancient 
 Greeks, call their musical modes or Perdas by the names of 
 different countries or cities, as the mode of Isfahan, the mode 
 of Irak, etc. 
 
 P. 67. — Bendemeer^s stream. — A river which flows near the 
 ruins of Chilminar. 
 
 P. 69. — The hills of crystal on the Caspian shore. — " To the 
 north of us (on the coast of the Caspian, near Badku) was a 
 mountain, which sparkled like diamonds, arising from the 
 sea-glass and crystals with which it abounds." — (" Journey of 
 the Russian Ambassador to Persia," 1746.) 
 
 P. 69. — Trees of Eden, shake in the eternal breeze. — " To 
 which 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.) 
 
 P. 70. — Sis floating eyes. — " Whose wanton eyes resemble 
 blue water-lilies, agitated by the breeze." — (Jayadeva.) 
 
 P. 70. — Blue water-lilies. — The blue lotus, which gfrows in 
 Cashmere and in Persia. 
 
 P. 71. — The pictures that hung round. — It has been generally 
 supposed that the Mahometans prohibit all pictures of ani- 
 mals ; but Toderini shows that, though the practice is forbid- 
 den by the Koran, they are not more averse to painted figures 
 
AUTHOR'S U^OTES. 285 
 
 and images than other people. From Mr. Murphy's work, 
 too, we find that the Arabs of Spain had no objection to the 
 introduction of figures into painting. 
 
 P. 72. — Whose orb when half retired looks loveliest. — This is 
 not quite astronomically true. " Dr. Hadley," says Keil, 
 "has shown that Venus is brightest when she is about forty 
 degrees removed from the sun ; and that then but only a 
 fourth part of her lucid disk is to be seen from the earth." 
 
 P. 72. — With her from Saba''s bowers. — For the loves of King 
 Solomon (who was supposed to preside over the whole race of 
 Genii) with Balkis, the Queen of Sheba or Saba, see D'Herbe- 
 lot, and the "Notes on the Koran," chap. ii. "In the pal- 
 ace which Solomon 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 commemorate. 
 " It was said unto her, ' Enter 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. Where- 
 upon Solomon said to her, ' Verily, this is the place evenly 
 floored with glass.' " — (Chap, xxvii.) 
 
 P. 72. — Zuleika.—Wiie of Potiphar, thus named by the Ori- 
 entals. " The passion which this frail beauty of antiquity 
 conceived for her young Hebrew slave has g^ven rise to a much- 
 esteemed poem in the Persian language, entitled ' Yusef vau 
 Zelikha,' by Noureddin Jami, the manuscript copy of which, 
 in the Bodleian Library at Oxford, is supposed to be the fin- 
 est in the whole world." — (Note upon Nott's Translation of 
 Hafez.) 
 
 P. 72. — Forgets the Koran in his Mary^s smile. — The partic- 
 ulars of Mahomet's amour with Mary, the Coptic g^rl, in jus- 
 tification of which he added a new chapter to the Koran, may 
 be found in Gagnier's " Notes upon Abulfeda," p. 151. 
 
 P. 73. — That deep-blue melancholy dress. — "Deep blue is 
 their mourning colour." — (Hanway.) 
 
286 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 P. 74. — Like the sweet night-flower. — The sorrowful nyctan- 
 thes, whieh begins to spread its rich odour after sunset. 
 
 P. 76. — As the viper weaves its wily covering. — " Concerning 
 the vipers, which Pliny says were frequent among the balsam- 
 trees, I made very particular inquiry : several were brought 
 me alive both to Yambo and Jidda." — (Bruce.) 
 
 P. 82. — The sunny apples of Istkahar. — " In the territory of 
 Istkahar there is a kind of apple, half of whieh is sweet and 
 half sour."— (Ebn Haukal.) 
 
 P. 82. — She had lighted a small lamp. — For an account of 
 this ceremony, see Grandpr^'s "Voyage in the Indian Ocean." 
 
 P. 82. — The Oton-tala, or Sea of Stars. — " 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."— (Pinker- 
 ton's Description of Tibet.) 
 
 P. 84. — This City of War. — " 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 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 by 
 the Lescar, when situated in a beautiful and convenient place, 
 that they cannot prevail with themselves to remove. To pre- 
 vent this inconvenience to the court, the Emperor, after suffi- 
 cient time is allowed to the tradesmen to follow, orders them 
 to be burnt out of their tents." — (Dow's " Hindostan.") 
 
 Colonel Wilks gives a lively picture of an Eastern encamp- 
 ment : — " His camp, like that of most Indian armies, exhib- 
 ited 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 
 surrounding superb suites of tents ; by ragged cloths or blank- 
 ets stretched over sticks or branches ; palm-leaves hastily 
 spread over similar supports ; handsome tents and splendid 
 canopies ; horses, oxen, elephants, and camels ; all intermixed 
 
JIUTHOR'S V^OTES. 287 
 
 without any exterior mark of order or design, except the flag« 
 of the chiefs, which usually mark the centres of a congeries 
 of these masses ; the only regular 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.") 
 
 P. 84:.— Built the high pillar'd halls of Chilminar.— The 
 edifices of Chilminar and Balbec are 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 Adam. 
 
 P. 84. — And camels, tufted o'er with Yemen's shells. — " A 
 superb camel, ornamented with strings and tufts of small 
 shells."— (Ali Bey.) 
 
 P. 84. — The locust bird. — A native of Khorassan, and allured 
 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 will follow wherever that water is carried. 
 
 P. 84. — Laden camels and their drivers'' songs. — "Some of 
 the camels have bells about their necks, and some about their 
 legs, like those which our carriers put about their forehorses' 
 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 delightfully." — (Pitt's 
 " Account of the Mahometans.") 
 
 "The camel-driver follows the camels, singing, and some- 
 times 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." — (Tavemier.) 
 
 P. 85. — The eagle note of the Abyssinian trumpet. — " This 
 trumpet is often called, in Abyssinia, nesser canno, which 
 signifies the Note of the Eagle."— (Note of Brace's Editor.) 
 
 P. 85. — The Night and Shadow. — The two black standards 
 borne before the Caliphs of the House of Abbas were called, 
 allegorically, the Night and the Shadow.— (See Gibbon.) 
 
 P. 85. — Islam. — The Mahometan religion. 
 
288 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 P. 85. — Having sworn upon the Holy Grave. — " The Persians 
 swear by the tomb of Shah Besade, who is buried at Casbin ; 
 and when one desires another to asseverate a matter, he will 
 ask him if he dare swear by the Holy Grave." — (Struy.) 
 
 P. 85. — Were spoiVd to feed the Pilgrim'' s luxury. — Mahadi, 
 in a single pilgrimage to Mecca, expended six millions of dinars 
 of gold. 
 
 P. 86.— Mecca'' s sun, with urns of Persian snow.—^'' Nivem 
 Meceam apportavit, rem ibi aut nunquam aut raro visam." — 
 (Abulfeda.) 
 
 P. 86.— T^e People of the Bock.— The inhabitants of Hejaz 
 or Arabia Petraea, called by an Eastern writer " The People 
 of the Rock."— (See Ebn Haukal.) 
 
 P. 86. — Steeds of royal stock.—''' Those horses, called by the 
 Arabians Kochlani, of whom a written genealogy has been 
 kept for 2,000 years. They are said to derive their origin 
 from King Solomon's steeds."— (Niebuhr.) 
 
 P. 86. — Their swords'' rich marquetry. — " Many of the figures 
 on the blades of their swords are wrought in gold or silver, or 
 in marquetry with small gems."— (" Asiatic Miscellany," v. i.) 
 
 P. 86.— The land of Myrrh.— Azah or Saba. 
 
 T. 86.— Waving their heron crests.— '''The chiefs of the 
 Uzbek Tartars wear a plume of white heron's feathers in their 
 turbans." — (Account of Independent Tartary.) 
 
 P. 86. — The turquoise hills. — " In the mountains of Nisha- 
 pour and Tons (in Khorassan) they find turquoises."— (Ebn 
 Haukal.) 
 
 P. 87.— Hindoo Kosh.— For a description of these stupen- 
 dous ranges of mountains, see Elphinstone's " Caubul." 
 
 P. 81.— Her Worshippers of Fire.— The Ghebers or Guebres, 
 those original natives of Persia who adhered to their ancient 
 faith, the religion of Zoroaster, and who, after the conquest 
 of their country by the Arabs, were either persecuted at home 
 or forced to become wanderers abroad. 
 
AUTHOR'S V^OTES. 289 
 
 P. 87. — Yezd^s eternal Mansion of the Fire. — "Yezd, the 
 chief residence of those ancient natives who worship the Sun 
 and the Fire, which latter they have carefully kept lighted, 
 without being once extinguished for a moment, about 3,000 
 years, on a mountain near Yezd, called Ater Quedah, signify- 
 ing the House or Mansion of the Fire. He is reckoned very 
 unfortunate who dies o£E that mountain."— (Stephens's 
 "Persia.") 
 
 P. 87. — That burn into the Caspian. — " When the weather 
 is hazy, the springs of naphtha (on an island near Baku) boil 
 up the higher, and the naphtha often takes fire on the surface 
 of the earth, and runs in a flame into the sea to a distance 
 almost incredible." — (Hanway on the Everlasting Fire at 
 Baku.) 
 
 P. 87. — The prostrate Caravan is awed. — 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 burning 
 sand roll before it, the firmament is enveloped in a thick veil, 
 and the sun appears of the colour of blood. Sometimes whole 
 caravans are buried in it." 
 
 P, 88. — Those angel youths who led. — In the great victory 
 gained by Mahomed at Beder, he was assisted, say the Mus- 
 sulmans, by three thousand angels, led by Gabriel, mounted 
 on his horse Hiazum. — (See " The Koran and its Commenta- 
 tors.") 
 
 P. 89.— "yl//a ^^6ar.'"— The Techir, or cry of the Arabs. 
 "Alia Acbar ! " says Ockley, means " God is most mighty." 
 
 P. 90. — Chant your ziraleets. — The ziraleet is a kind of 
 chorus, which the women of the East sing upon joyful occa- 
 sions. — (Russel.) 
 
 P. 90. — That Syrian Lake. — The Dead Sea, which contains 
 neither animal nor vegetable life. 
 
 P. 91.— The Jihon's, flood. —The ancient Oxus. 
 
 P. 92. — Neksheb^s gates. — A city of Transoxiana. 
 19 
 
290 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 P. 92.— To-rfay's young flower is springing in its stead. — 
 "You never can cast your eyes on this tree, but you meet 
 there either blossoms or fruit ; and as the blossoms drop un- 
 derneath on the ground (which is frequently covered with 
 these purple-coloured flowers), others come forth in their 
 :stead." — (Nieuhoff.) 
 
 P. 93. — The Dives.— The Demons of the Persian mythology. 
 
 P. 93.— That spangle India'' s fields on showery nights.— Car- 
 Teri mentions the fire-flies in India during the rainy seasons. 
 (See his Travels.) 
 
 P. 93. — The thousands of the Assyrian King.—Sennaxihe-nh, 
 called by the Orientals King of Moussal.— (D'Herbelot.) 
 
 P. 94. — The Pillared throne of Parviz.—ChosToes. For the 
 description of his Throne or Palace, see Gibbon and D'Herbe- 
 lot. There were said to be under this Throne or Palace of 
 Khosrou 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.") 
 
 P. 94. — The heron crest that shone. — " 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 Ali, written in 
 characters of gold round the gallery of Abba's tomb.) — See 
 Chardin. 
 
 P. 94:.— AW s beauteous eyes. — The beauty of All's eyes was 
 so remarkable that whenever the Persians would describe any- 
 thing as very lovely, they say it is Ayn Hali, or the Eyes of 
 Ali.— (Chardin.) 
 
 P. 94.— They beheld an orb. — We are not told more of this 
 trick of the Impostor than that it was " une machine qu'il 
 disoit gtre la Lune." According to Richardson, the miracle 
 is perpetuated in Neksheb. " Nakshab, the name of a city 
 in Transoxiana, where they say there is a well, in which the 
 appearance of the moon is to be seen night and day." 
 
 " II amusa pendant deux mois le peuple de la ville de Nek- 
 
AUTHOR'S a^OTES. 291 
 
 scheb, en faisant sortir toutes les nuits du fond d'un pnits un 
 corps lumineux semblable k la Lune, qui portoit sa lunii^re 
 jusqii'k la distance de plusieurs milles." — (D'Herbelot.) 
 Hence the impostor was called Sazend^hmah, or the Moon- 
 maker. 
 
 P. 95. — Had rested on the Ark. — The Shechinah, called 
 Sakinat in the Koran. — (See Sale's Note, chap, ii.) 
 
 P. 95. — The small drum with which they count the night. — The 
 parts of the night are made known as well by instruments of 
 music, as by the rounds of the watchman with cries and small 
 drums.— (See Burder's "Oriental Customs," vol. i. p. 119.) 
 
 P. 95. — The lamps that light yon lofty screen. — The Serra- 
 purda, high screens of red cloth, stiffened with cane, used to 
 enclose a considerable space round the royal tents. — (" Notes 
 on the Bahardanush.") 
 
 The tents of Princes were generally illuminated. Norden 
 tells us that the tent of the Bey of Girge was distinguished 
 from the other tents by forty lanterns being suspended before 
 it. — (See Harmer's " Observations on Job.") 
 
 P. 95. — Like bees of Kauzeroon. — "From the groves of 
 orange-trees at Kauzeroon the bees cull a celebrated honey." 
 — (Morier's Travels.) 
 
 P. 97. — Bride of the fierce Nile. — " A custom still subsist- 
 ing at this day seems to me to prove that the Egyptians form- 
 erly sacrificed a young virgin to the God of the Nile ; for they 
 now make a statue of earth in shape of a g^irl, to which they 
 give the name of the Betrothed Bride, and throw it into the 
 river." — (Savray.) 
 
 P. 9S.— Engines of havoc. — 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 hun- 
 dred 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 
 
292 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 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 sig- 
 nify the Greek fire. (See Wilks's "South of India," vol. i. 
 p. 471.) Andin the curious JavanPoem, the " Brata Yudha," 
 given by Sir Stamford Raffles in his " History of Java," we 
 find : " He aimed at the heart of So^ta 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 lived in the 
 thirteenth century. Bodies, he says, " in the form of scorpi- 
 ons, bound round and filled with nitrous powder, glide 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 like a cloud, roaring horribly, as thunder 
 roars, and on aU sides vomiting out flames, burst, burn, and 
 reduce to cinders whatever comes in their way." The histo- 
 rian Ben Abdalla, in speaking of the sieges of Abulualid, in 
 the year of the Hegira 712, says, " A fiery globe, by means 
 of combustible matter, with a mighty noise suddenly emitted, 
 strikes with the force of lightning, and shakes the citadel." 
 (See the extracts from Casiri's " Biblioth. Arab. Hispan." in 
 the Appendix to Berington's " Literary History of the Middle 
 Ages.") 
 
 P. 98. — Bed-hot globes. — The Greek fire was occasionally 
 lent by the emperors to their allies. " It was," says Gibbon, 
 " either laimched in red-hot balls of stone andiron, or darted 
 in arrows or javelins, twisted round with flax and tow, which 
 had deeply imbibed the inflammable oil." 
 
 P. 98. — Discharge^ as from a kindled Naphtha fount. — See 
 Hanway's "Account of the Springs of Naphtha at Baku" 
 (which is called by Lieutenant Pottinger " Joala Mokee," or 
 the Flaming Mouth) taking fire and running into the sea. Dr. 
 Cooke, in his "Journal," mentions some wells in Circassia, 
 strongly impregnated with this inflammable oil, from which 
 issues boiling water. " Though the weather," he adds, " was 
 
AUTHOR'S O^OTES. 293 
 
 now very cold, the warmth of these wells of hot water pro- 
 duced near them the verdure and flowers of spring." 
 
 Major Scott Waring says, that naphtha is used by the Per- 
 sians, as we are told it was in hell, for lamps. 
 
 " many a row 
 
 Of starry lamps and blazing cressets, fed 
 With naphtha and asphaltus, yielding light 
 As from a sky." 
 
 P. 98. — Like those wild birds. — "At the great festival of 
 fire, called the Sheb Sezg, they used to set fire to large bunches 
 of dry combustibles, fastened round wild beasts and birds, 
 which being then let loose, the air and earth appeared one 
 great illumination ; and as these terrified creatures naturally 
 fled to the woods for shelter, it is easy to conceive the con- 
 flagfrations they produced." — (Richardson's " Dissertation.") 
 
 P. 100. — SeaVd with precious musk, for those they love. — 
 " The righteous shall be given to drink of pure wine, sealed ; 
 the seal whereof shall be musk." — (Koran, chap. Ixxxiii.) 
 
 P. 102. — Demon of the Waste. — " The Afghauns believe 
 each of the numerous solitudes and deserts of their country 
 to be inhabited by a lonely demon, whom they call the Ghoo- 
 lee Beeabau, or Spirit of the Waste. They often illustrate the 
 wildness of any sequestered tribe, by saying, ' They are wild 
 as the Demon of the Waste.' "— (Elphinstone's " Caubul.") 
 
 P. 104. — FilVd with burning drugs. — " U donna du poison 
 dans le vin h tous ses gens, et se jeta lui-mgme ensuite dans 
 une cuve pleine de drogues brulantes et consumantes, afin 
 qu'il ne restait rien de tous les membres de son corps, et que 
 ceux qui restoient de sa secte pussent croire qu'il ^toit mont^ 
 au ciel, ce qui ne manqua pas d'arriver." — (D'Herbelot.) 
 
 P. 105. — Lone Cities of the Silent. — " 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 peo- 
 ple with the ghosts of the departed, who sit each at the head 
 of his own grave, invisible to mortal eyes." — (Elphinstone.) 
 
 P. 110. — To eat any mangoes but those of Mazagong was, of 
 course, impossible. — "The celebrity of Mazagong is owing to 
 
294 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 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 station- 
 ed between Delhi and the Mahratta coast to secure an abun- 
 dant and fresh supply of mangoes for the royal table." — (Mrs. 
 Graham's " Journal of a Residence in India.") 
 
 P. 110. — Sis fine antique porcelain. — 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 be- 
 cause it has retained its ancient beauty ; and this alone is of 
 great importance in 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 curious Observ- 
 ations," etc. ; — a bad translation of some parts of the Lettres 
 Idifiantes et curieuses of the Missionary Jesuits.) 
 
 P. 112. — Nasser, the Arabian merchant. — " La lecture de 
 ces Fables plaisoit si fort aux Arabes, que, quand Mahomet 
 les entretenoit de I'Histoire de I'Ancien Testament, ils la 
 m^prisoient, lui disant que celles que Nasser leur racontoit 
 ^toient beaucoup plus belles. Cette pr^f ^rence attira k Nasser 
 la malediction de Mahomet etde tousses disciples." — (D'Her- 
 belot.) 
 
 P. 112. — The blacksmith'' s apron converted into a banner. — 
 The blacksmith Gao, who successfully resisted the tyrant 
 Zohak, and whose apron became the Royal Standard of Persia. 
 
 P. 114. — That sublime bird, which files always in the air. — 
 " The Huma, a bird peculiar 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." — (Richardson.) 
 
 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 honorary attendants standing be- 
 hind him, holding fans composed of the feathers of the Hum- 
 ma, according to the practice of his family." — (Wilks's "South 
 
AUTHOR'S tJiOTES. 295 
 
 of India. ' ') He adds in a note : — ' ' The Humma is a fabulous 
 bird. The head over which its shadow once passes will as- 
 suredly be circled with a crown. The splendid little bird 
 suspended over the throne of Tippoo Sultaun, found at Serin- 
 gapatam in 1799, was intended to represent this poetical 
 fancy." 
 
 P. 114. — Words like those on the Written Mountain. — "To 
 the pilgrims to Mount Sinai we must attribute the inscriptions, 
 figures, etc., on those rocks, which have from thence acquired 
 the name of the Written Mountain." — (Volney.) M. Gebelin 
 and others have been at much pains to 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 unpolished rock with any pointed 
 instrument ; adding to their names and the date of their jour- 
 neys some rude figures, which bespeak the hand of a people 
 but little skilled in the arts."— (Niebuhr.) 
 
 P. 11'5.— Like the Old Man of the Sea.— The Story of Sinbad. 
 
 P. 115. — Hafez compares his mistresses hair. — See Nott's 
 "Hafez," Ode V. 
 
 P. 115.— The Cdmalatd.— ''The Cdmalatd (called by Lin- 
 naeus, Ipomsea) is the most beautiful of its order, both in the 
 colour and form of its leaves and flowers ; its elegant blossoms 
 are ' celestial rosy red. Love's proper hue,' and have justly 
 procured it the name of Cdmalatd, or Love's Creeper. . . . 
 
 " Cdmalatd 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 
 Ipomasa." — (Sir W. Jones.) 
 
 P. 116. — Thatjlower-loving Nymph. — "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 encircled by a rainbow, after which she be- 
 came pregnant, and, at the end of twelve years, was delivered 
 of a son as radiant as herself."— ("Asiatic Researches.") 
 
296 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 P. 117. — Jits plane-tree Isle. — " Numerous small islands 
 emerge from the Lake of Cashmere. One is called Char 
 Chenaur, from the plane-trees upon it." — (Foster.) 
 
 'P. Ill— The golden , floods.—*' The Altan Kol or Golden 
 River of Tibet, which runs into the Lakes of Sing-su-hay, has 
 abundance of gold in its sands, which employs the inhabitants 
 all the summer in gathering it." — (Pinkerton's Description of 
 Tibet.) 
 
 P. 118. — Blooms nowhere but in Paradise. — " 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 Mars- 
 den, 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, be- 
 ing yellow elsewhere." — (Marsden's " Sumatra.") 
 
 P. 118. — Flung at night from angel hands. — " The Mahome- 
 tans suppose that falling stars are the firebrands wherewith 
 the good angels drive away the bad, when they approach too 
 near the empyrean or vei^e of the heavens." — (Fryer.) 
 
 P. 119.— TAe pillars of Chilminar.— The Forty Pillars ; so 
 the Persians call the 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 their subterraneous caverns 
 immense treasures, which still remain there. — (See D'Herbe- 
 lot and Volney.) 
 
 P. 119. — To the south of sun-bright Araby. — The Isles of 
 Panchaia. Diodorus mentions the Isle of Panchaia, to the 
 south of Arabia Felix, where there was a temple of Jupiter. 
 This island, or rather cluster of isles, has disappeared, "sunk," 
 says Grandpr^, " in the abyss made by the fire beneath their 
 foundations." — ("Voyage to the Indian Ocean.") 
 
 P. 119.— TAe jewelVd cup of their King Jamshid.— ''The 
 cup of Jamshid, discovered, they say, when digging for the 
 foundations of Persepolis." — (Richardson.) 
 
 P. 119. — O^er coral rocks and amber beds. — " It is not like 
 
AUTHOR'S CKOTES. 297 
 
 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 aromatics ; where parrots and pea- 
 cocks ara birds of the forest, and musk and civet are collected 
 upon the lands." — (" Travels of Two Mohammedans.") 
 
 P. 120. — Thy Pagods and thy pillar'' d shades, 
 
 "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, 
 see Cordiner's "Ceylon." 
 
 P. 120. — Thy Monarchs and their Thousand Thrones. — 
 " With this immense treasure Mamood returned to Ghizni, 
 and in the year 400 prepared a magnificent festival, where he 
 displayed to the people his wealth in golden thrones and in 
 other ornaments, in a great plain without the city of Ghizni." 
 — (Ferishta.) 
 
 P. 120.— T IS he of Gazna. — "Mahmood of Gazna, or 
 Ghizni, who conquered India in the beginning of the eleventh 
 century." — (See his history in Dow and Sir J. Malcolm.) 
 
 P. 120. — His bloodhounds he adorns with gems. — " It is re- 
 ported that the hunting equipage of the Sultan Mahmood was 
 so magnificent that he kept 400 greyhounds and bloodhounds, 
 each of which wore a collar set with jewels, and a covering 
 edged with gold and pearls." — (" Universal History," vol. iii.) 
 
 P. 121. — For Liberty.— Oh jectioxis 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 thingfs 
 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 little acted upon, yet it is no disparagement to the 
 word to apply it to that national independence, that freedom 
 from the interference and dictation of foreigners, without 
 
298 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 ■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 deserved much 
 better success. 
 
 P. 122.— Afric^s lunar Mountains. — " The Mountains of the 
 Moon, or the Montes Lunae of antiquity, at the foot of which 
 the Nile is supposed to rise." — (Bruce.) 
 
 "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." 
 
 P. 122. — The new-horn GianVs smile. — "The Nile, which 
 the Abyssinians know by the names of Abey and Alawy, or 
 the Giant." — (" Asiatic Researches," vol. i. p. 387.) 
 
 P. 122. — Her grots, and sepulchres of Kings. — See Perry's 
 "View of the Levant" for an account of the sepulchres in 
 Upper Thebes, and the numberless grots, covered aU over 
 with hieroglyphics, in the mountains of Upper Egypt. 
 
 P. 122. — The doves in warm Bosetta^s vale. — "The orchards 
 of Bosetta are filled with turtle-doves." — (Sonnini.) 
 
 P. 122. — The white pelicans. — Savary mentions the pelicans 
 upon Lake Moeris. 
 
 P. 123. — Lovely date-trees bending. — " The superb date-tree, 
 whose head languidly reclines, like that of a handsome woman 
 overcome with sleep." — (Dafard el Hadad.) 
 
 P. 123. — Some purple-winged Sultana. — "That beautiful 
 bird, with plumage of the finest shining blue, with purple 
 beak and legs, the natural and living ornament of the temples 
 and palaces of the Greeks and Romans, which, from the 
 stateliness of its port, as well as the brilliancy of its colours, 
 has obtained the title of Sultana." — ^(Sonnini.) 
 
 P. 124. — Only the fierce hycena stalks. — Jackson, speaking 
 of the plague that occurred in West Barbary, when he was 
 there, says, " The birds of the air fled away from the abodes 
 of men. The hyaenas, on the contrary, visited the cemeter- 
 ies," etc. 
 
 " Gondar was full of hyaenas from the time it turned dark 
 
AUTHOR'S tKOTES. 299 
 
 till the dawn of day, seeking the different pieces of slaughtered 
 carcasses which this cruel and unclean people expose in the 
 streets without burial, and who firmly believe that these ani- 
 mals are Falashta from the neighbouring mountains, trans- 
 formed by magic, and come down to eat human flesh in the 
 dark in safety." — (Bruce.) 
 
 P. 125. — Who yonder comes by stealth. — This circumstance 
 has been often introduced into poetry, — by Vincentius Fabri- 
 cius, by Darwin, and lately, with very powerful effect, by 
 Mr. Wilson. 
 
 P. 127. — Who sings at the Last his own death-lay. — " In the 
 East, they suppose the Phoenix to have fifty orifices in his 
 bill, which are continued to his tail ; and that, after living 
 one thousand years, he builds himself a funeral pile, sings a 
 melodious air of different harmonies through his fifty organ 
 pipes, flaps his wings with a velocity which sets fire to the 
 wood, and consumes himself." — (Richardson.) 
 
 P. 12^.— Their first sweet draught of glory take.— '''On the 
 shores of a quadrangular lake stand a thousand goblets, made 
 of stars, out of which souls predestined to enjoy f eUcity drink 
 the crystal wave." — (From Chateaubriand's Description of 
 the Mahometan Paradise, in his " Beauties of Christianity.") 
 
 P. 129. — Syrians land of roses.— Richardson thinks that 
 Syria had its name from Suri, a beautiful and delicate species 
 of rose, for which that country has been always famous; — 
 hence, Suristan, the Land of Roses. 
 
 P. 129. — Gay lizards, glittering on the walls. — "The 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.) 
 
 P. 130. — Shepherd^ s ancient reed. — " The Syrinx, or Pan's 
 pipe, is still a pastoral instrument in Syria." — (Russel.) 
 
 P. 130. — The wild bees of Palestine. — " Wild bees, frequent 
 in Palestine, in hollow trunks or branches of trees, and the 
 
SOO LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 clefts of rocks. Thus it is said (Psalm Ixxxi.), ' honey out of 
 the stony rock.' " — (Burder's " Oriental Customs.") 
 
 P. 130. — Woods.^ so full of nightingales. — " The river Jor- 
 dan is on both sides beset with little, thick, and pleasant 
 •woods, among which thousands of nightingales warble all to- 
 gether."— (Thevenot.) 
 
 P. mi— That great Temple— The Temple of the Sun at 
 Balbec. 
 
 P. 131. — Beautiful blue damsel-flies. — "You behold there 
 a considerable number of a remarkable species of beautiful 
 insects, the elegance of whose appearance and their attire 
 procured for them the name of Damsels." — (Sonnini.) 
 
 P. 131. — A small imareVs rustic fount. — Imaret : " Hospice 
 ou on loge et nourrit, gratis, les p^lerins pendant trois jours." 
 — (Toderini, translated by the Abb^ de Coumand.) See also 
 Castellan's " Moeurs des Othomans," tom. v. p. 145. 
 
 P. Id2.—Kneels, with his forehead to the south.— ^^ Such 
 Turks as at the common hours of prayer are on the road, or 
 so 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 im- 
 mediately when the hour alarms them, whatever 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 a while ; 
 when, taking out his handkerchief, he spreads it on the 
 ground, sits cross-legged thereupon, and says his prayers, 
 though in the open market, which having ended, he leaps 
 briskly up, salutes the person whom he undertook to convey, 
 and renews his journey with the mild expression of ' Ghell 
 ghonnum ghell,' or, ' Come, dear, follow me.' ") — Aaron Hill's 
 "Travels.") 
 
 P. 134. — EgypVs land, of so healing a power. — The Nucta, 
 or Miraculous Drop, which falls in Egypt precisely on St. 
 
AUTHOR'S tKOTES. 301 
 
 John's Day, in June, and is supposed to have the effect of 
 stopping the plague. 
 
 P. 135. — Diamond turrets of Shadukiam, — The Country of 
 Delight— the name of a province in the kingdom of Jinnistan, 
 or Fairy Land, the capital of which is called the City of 
 Jewels. Amberabad is another of the cities of Jinnistan. 
 
 P. 135.— The Tooba Tree.— The tree Tooba, that stands in 
 Paradise, in the palace of Mahomet. — (See Sale's "Prelim. 
 Disc.")— Tooba, says D'Herbelot, signifies beatitude, or etei> 
 nal happiness. 
 
 P. 135.— TAe lote-tree^ springing by Allans throne.— Mahomet 
 is described, in the 53d chapter of the Koran, as having seen 
 the Angel Gabriel "by the lote-tree, beyond which there is 
 ho passing : 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. 
 
 P. 136. — The hundred-and'twenty thousand streams of Basra. 
 — " It is said that the rivers or streams of Basra were reck- 
 oned in the time of Pelal ben Abi Bordeh, and amounted to 
 the number of one hundred and twenty thousand streams." — 
 (Ebn Haukal.) 
 
 P. 136. — Flung the jereed. — The name of the javelin with 
 which the Easterns exercise. (See Castellan, "Mceurs des 
 Othomans," tom. iii. p. 161.) 
 
 P. ITi.—The Banyan Hospital. — " 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 my ar- 
 rival, there were presented to my view many 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." — 
 (Parsons's "Travels.") 
 
 It it said that all animails know the Banyans, that the most 
 timid approach them, and that birds will fly nearer to them 
 than to other people. — (See Grandpr^.) 
 
302 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 P. 138. — The fragrant grass near the Ganges. — "A very- 
 fragrant grass from the banks of the Ganges, near Heridwar, 
 which in some places covers whole acres, and diffuses, when 
 crushed, a strong odour."— (Sir W. Jones, on the Spikenard of 
 the Ancients.) 
 
 P. 138. — No one had ever yet reached its summit. — "Near 
 this is a curious hUl, called Koh Talism, the Mountain of the 
 Talisman, because, according to the traditions of the country, 
 no person ever succeeded in gaining its summit." — (Kinneir.) 
 
 P. 139. — Warmed into life by the eyes alone. — "The Avahi- 
 ans believe that the ostriches hatch their young by only look- 
 ing at them."— (P. Vanslebe, "Relat. d'Egypte.") 
 
 P. 14^.— Lost them again forever. — See Sale's " Koran," 
 note, vol. ii. p. 484. 
 
 P. 140. — Artisans in chariots. — Oriental Tales. 
 
 P. 140.— Plates of gold and silver flowers.— Ferishta. " Or 
 rather," says Scott, upon the passage of Ferishta from which 
 this is taken, " small coins, stamped with the figure of a 
 flower. They are stQl used in India to distribute in charity, 
 and, on occasion, thrown by the purse-bearers of the great 
 among the populace." 
 
 P. 141. — Alley of trees. — The fine road made by the Empe- 
 ror Jehan-Guire from Agra to Lahore, planted with trees on 
 each side. This road is 250 leagues in length. It has " little 
 pyramids or turrets," says Bemier, " erected every half 
 league, to mark the ways, and frequent wells to afford drink 
 to passengers, and to water the young trees." 
 
 P. 142. — The luxurious bird. — The Baya, or Indian Gros- 
 beak.— (Sir W. Jones.) 
 
 P. 142. — Multitudes of the beautiful red lotus. — " Here is a 
 large pagoda by a tank, on the water of which float multi- 
 tudes 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. Graham's " Journal of a Residence in 
 India.") 
 
AUTHOR'S V^OTES. 303 
 
 P. 143. — From their Arab conquerors.— '''' On les voit pers^- 
 cut^s par les Khalif es se retirer dans le montagnes du Ker- 
 man : plusieurs choisirent pour retraite la Tartaric et la 
 Chine ; d'autres s'arret^rent sur les bords du Gauge, h I'est 
 de Delhi."— (M. Anquetil, "M^moires de I'Acad^mie," torn. 
 xxxi. p. 346.) 
 
 P. 144:.— The Burning Field at Bakou.—The "Ager ardens" 
 described by Kaempfer, "Aracenitat. Exot." 
 
 P. 144:.— The prey of strangers. — " Cashmere," says its his- 
 torians, "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 
 a fortress of mountains, but its monarch, Yusef-Khan, was 
 basely betrayed by his Omrahs." — (Pennant.) 
 
 P. 144. — Fire-worshippers. — Voltaire tells us that in his 
 Tragedy, " Les Gu6bres," he was generally supposed to have 
 alluded to the Jansenists. I should not be surprised if this 
 story of the Fire-worshippers were found capable of a similar 
 doubleness of application. 
 
 P. 147. — Oman''s Sea. — The Persian Gulf, sometimes so 
 called, which separates the shores of Persia and Arabia. 
 
 P. 147. — Harmozia^s walls. — The present Gombaroon, a 
 town on the Persian side of the Gulf. 
 
 P. 147. — The clash of zel. — A Moorish instrument of music. 
 
 P. 147.— The wind-tower on the Emir^s dome.—'' At Gomba- 
 roon and other places in Persia, they have towers for the pur- 
 pose of catching the wind, and cooling the houses. — (LeBruyn.) 
 
 P. 148. — Iranh name.-'"'' Iran is the true general name for 
 the empire of Persia." — (" Asiatic Researches," Disc. 5.) 
 
 P. 148. — Engraven on his reeking sword. — " On the blades 
 of their scimitars some verse from the Koran is usually in- 
 scribed." — (Russel.) 
 
 P. 148. — Draw venom forth that drives men mad. — " There 
 is a kind of Rhododendron about Trebizond whose flowers 
 
304 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 the bee feeds upon, and the honey thence drives people mad." 
 — (Tournefort.) 
 
 P. 150. — Upon the turban of a king.—'"'' Their kings wear 
 plumes of black herons' feathers upon the right side as a 
 badge of sovereignty." — (Hanway.) 
 
 P. 150. — Springing in a desolate mountain. — "The Foun- 
 tain of Youth, by a Mahometan tradition, is situated in some 
 dark region of the East." — (Richardson.) 
 
 P. 151. — Yemen'' s </aZes.— Arabia Felix. 
 
 P. 151. — LulPd in cool kiosk or bower. — "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 enclosed 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 M.W. Montagu.) 
 
 P. 151. — Before their mirrors count the time. — The women of 
 the East are never without 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 thumbs. " Hence (and from the lotus being considered 
 the emblem of beauty) is the meaning of the following mute 
 intercourse of two lovers before their parents : — 
 
 " ' He, with salute of deference due, 
 A lotus to his forehead prest ; 
 She raised her mirror to his view, 
 
 Then tum'd it inward to her breast.' " 
 ("Asiatic Miscellany," Vol. ii.) 
 
 P. 151. — The emerald'' s virgin blaze. — " They say that if a 
 snake or serpent fix his eyes on the lustre of those stones 
 (emeralds), he immediately becomes blind." — (Ahmed ben 
 Abdalaziz, "Treatise on Jewels.") 
 
AUTHOR'S VtOTES. 305 
 
 P. 152. — The day-beam's withering fire. — " At Gombaroon 
 and the Isle of Ormus, it is sometimes so hot that the people 
 are obliged to lie all day in the water." — (Marco Polo.) 
 
 P. 153. — AraraVs tremendous peak. — This mountain is 
 generally suj^posed to be inaccessible. Stray says, " I can 
 well assure the reader that their opinion is not true, who sup- 
 pose this mount to be inaccessible." He adds, that " the 
 lower part of the mountain is cloudy, misty, and dark ; the 
 middle-most 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 after the Deluge, and 
 part of it, they say, exists there still, which Struy thus gravely 
 accounts for : — " Whereas none can remember that the air on 
 the top of the hill did ever change or was subject either to 
 wind or rain, which is presumed to be the reason that the Ark 
 has endured so long without being rotten." — (See Carreri's 
 " Travels," where the Doctor laughs at this whole account of 
 Mount Ararat.) 
 
 P. 153. — The bridegroom^ with his locks of light. — In one of 
 the books of the "Shah 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, mana- 
 ges it in a less romantic way, by fixing his crook in a project- 
 ing beam. — (See Champion's " Ferdosi.") 
 
 P. 154. — The rock-goats of Arabia clamber. — "On the lofty 
 hills of Arabia Petrsea are rock-goats." — (Niebuhr.) 
 
 P. 154. — Some ditty to her soft Kanoon. — "Cauun, esp^ce de 
 psalt^rion, avec des cordes de boyaux ; les dames en touchent 
 dans le s^rail, avec des ^cailles armies de pointes de cooc." — 
 (Toderini, translated by De Cournand.) 
 
 P. 159.— The Gheber belt that roung him clung. — " They (the 
 Ghebers) lay so much stress on their cushee or g^irdle, as not 
 to dare to be an instant without it." — (Grose's Voyage.) 
 " Le jeune homme nia d'abord la chose ; mais, ayant ^te d^ 
 pouill^ de sa robe, et la large ceinture qu'U portoit comme 
 Ghebr," etc., etc.— (D'Herbelot, art. "Agduani.") " Pour se 
 20 
 
306 LALLA T{OOKH, 
 
 distinguer des Idol^tres de I'Inde, les Gu^bres se ceignent 
 tous d'un cordon de laine, ou de poil de ehameau." — (" Eney- 
 dop^die Frangoise.") D'Herbelot says this belt was gener- 
 ally of leather. 
 
 P. 159. — The living lights of heaven. — " They suppose the 
 Throne of the Almighty is seated in the sun, and hence their 
 worship of that luminary." — (Hanway.) "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 reverence, 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 it as a purely passive blind instrument, directed 
 and governed by the immediate impression on it of the will of 
 God : but they do not even give that luminary, all-glorious as 
 it is, more than the second rank amongst His works, reserving 
 the first for that stupendous production of divine power, the 
 mind of man." — (Grose.) The false charges brought against 
 the rehgion 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." 
 
 P. 161. — And fiery darts, at intervals. — "The Mameluks 
 that were in the other boat, when it was dark, used to shoot 
 up a sort of fiery arrows into the air, which in some measure 
 resembled lightning or falling stars." — (Baumgarten.) 
 
 P. 163. — The tomb of the musician, Tan-Sein. — " Within 
 the enclosure which surrounds this monument (at Gualior) is 
 a small tomb to the memory of Tan-Sein, a musician of incom- 
 parable skill, who flourished at the court of Akbar. The 
 tomb is overshadowed by a tree concerning which a supersti- 
 tious notion prevails, that the chewing of its leaves will give 
 an extraordinary melody to the voice." — ("Narrative of a 
 Journey from Agra to Ouzein," by W. Hunter, Esq.) 
 
 P. 163. — The awful signal of the bamboo staff. — " It is usual 
 to place a small white triangular flag, fixed to a bamboo staff 
 
AUTHOR'S tKOTES. 307 
 
 of ten or twelve feet long, at the place where a tiger has de- 
 stroyed 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 wagon-load is collected. The 
 sight of these flags and piles of stones imparts a certain melan- 
 choly, not perhaps altogether void of apprehension." — ("Ori- 
 ental Field Sports," vol. ii.) 
 
 P. 163. — Ornamented with the most beautiful porcelain. — 
 "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 believed 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 beautiful 
 porcelain to supply the use of mirrors." — (Pennant.) 
 
 P. 165.— 27ie Green <Sea.— The Persian Gulf.—" To dive for 
 pearls in the Green Sea, or Persian Gulf." — (Sir W. Jones.) 
 
 P. 165. — Bahrein and Kishma. — Islands in the Gulf. 
 
 P. 165. — Selama^s sainted cape. — Or Selemeh, the genuine 
 name of the headland at the entrance of the Gulf, commonly 
 called Cape Musseldom. " The Indians, when they pass the 
 promontory, throw cocoa-nuts, fruits, or flowers, into the sea, 
 to secure a propitious voyage." — (Morier.) 
 
 P. 165. — The nightingale now bends her flight. — " The night- 
 ingale sings from the pomegranate groves in the daytime, and 
 from the loftiest trees at night."^Russel's " Aleppo.") 
 
 P. 165. — The best and brightest scimitar.— In speaking of 
 the climate of Shiraz, Franeklin says, " The dew is of such a 
 pvire nature, that if the brightest scimitar should be exposed 
 to it all night, it would not receive the least rust." 
 
 P. 166.— Cadessia' s bloody plains. — The place where the 
 Persians were finally defeated by the Arabs, and their ancient 
 monarchy destroyed. 
 
 P. 166. — The Caspian's Iron Gates. — Derbend. " Les 
 
308 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 Tures appellent eeifce ville Deitiir Capi, Porte de Fer : ce sont 
 les Caspiae Portae des anciens." — (D'Herbelot.) 
 
 P. IQl.— Like Zeilan's giant palm.— The Talpot or Talipot 
 tree. "This beautiful palm-tree, which grows in the heart 
 of the forests, may be classed among the loftiest trees, and 
 becomes still higher when on the point of bursting forth from 
 its leafy summit. The sheath which then envelops the flower 
 is very large, and, when it bursts, makes an explosion like 
 the report of a cannon." — (Thunberg.) 
 
 P. 168. — Yemen's warriors wink.—'''' When the bright cimi- 
 tars make the eyes of our heroes wink." — (" The Moallakat," 
 poem of " Araru.") 
 
 P. 169. — Those old enchanted kings. — Tahmuras, and other 
 ancient kings of Persia ; whose adventures in Fairy-land 
 among the Peris and Dives may be found in Richardson's 
 curious Dissertation. The griffin Simoorgh, they say, took 
 some feathers from her breast for Tahmuras, with which he 
 adorned his helmet, and transmitted them afterwards to his 
 descendants. 
 
 P. 170. — Sainted cedars on its brinks. — This rivulet, says 
 Dandini, is called the Holy River, from the " cedar saints " 
 among which it rises. 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 witnesses 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." — (See ChS;- 
 teaubriand's " Beauties of Christianity.") 
 
 P. 171. — A rocky mountain. — This mountain is my own 
 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 di- 
 vided 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 Gomberoon (Harmozia), seems once more to rise in 
 
AUTHOR'S ^KOTES. 309 
 
 the southern districts of iKerman, and following an easterly 
 course through the centre of Meckraun and Balouchistan, is 
 entirely lost in the deserts of Sinde." — (Kinneir's " Persian 
 Empire.") 
 
 P. 172. — The sleeping albatross. — These birds sleep in the 
 air. They are most common about the Cape of Good Hope. 
 
 P. 172. — The Gheber^s lonely cliff". — " There is an extraor- 
 dinary hill in this neighbourhood, called Koh^ Gubr, or the 
 Guebre's mountain. It rises in the form 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 suffered by those 
 who essayed in former days to ascend or explore it." — (Pot- 
 tinger's "Beloochistan.") 
 
 P. 173. — Stood on fire. — The Ghebers generally built their 
 temples over subterraneous fires. 
 
 P. 173. — Still did the mighty , flame burn on. — "At the city 
 of Yezd, in Persia, which is distinguished by the appellation 
 of the Darub Abadut, or Seat of Religion, 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 Zo- 
 roaster), in their own compartment of the city ; but for this 
 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 " Beloochistan.") 
 
 P. 174. — The blood ofZal and Bustam. — Ancient heroes of 
 Persia. " Among the Guebres there are some who boast their 
 descent from Rustani." — (Stephens's " Persia.") 
 
 P. 175. — The dark sea-robber^ s way. — See Russel's account 
 of the panther's attacking travellers in the night on the sea- 
 shore about the roots of Lebanon. 
 
 P. 175.— Wandering Spirits of their Dead. — " Among other 
 ceremonies the Magi used to place upon the tops of high 
 towers various kinds of rich viands, upon which it was sup- 
 
310 LALLA T{OOKH 
 
 posed the Peris and the spirits of their departed heroes regaled 
 themselves. ' ' — (Richardson.) 
 
 P. 175. — Charmed leaf of pure pomegranate. — In the cere- 
 monies 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." 
 
 P. 175. — Symbol of their worshipped planet. — " Early in the 
 morning, they (the Parsees or Ghebers at Oulam) go in 
 crowds to pay their devotions to the Sun, to whom upon all 
 the altars there are spheres consecrated, made by magic, re- 
 sembling 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." — (Rabbi Benjamin.) 
 
 P. 175. — The latest, holiest deed. — "Nul d'entre eux oseroit 
 se parjurer, quand il a pris k tdmoin cet ^l^ment terrible et 
 vengeur." — (" Encyclopedic Frangoise.") 
 
 P. 176. — The Persian lily shines and towers. — "A vivid 
 verdure succeeds the autumnal rains, and the ploughed fields 
 are covered with the Persian lily, of a resplendent yellow 
 colour." — (Russel's " Aleppo.") 
 
 P. 179. — The sparkle upon Herkend^s Sea. — " It is observed, 
 with respect to the Sea of Herkend, that when it is tossed by 
 tempestuous winds it sparkles like fire." — (" Travels of Two 
 Mohammedans. ' ') 
 
 P. 179. — The Kerna^s breath. — A kind of trumpet ; it was 
 "that used by Tamerlane, the sound of which is described as 
 uncommonly dreadful, and so loud as to be heard at the dis- 
 tance of several miles." — (Richardson.) 
 
 P. 180. — Ohod^s field of death. — "Mohammed had two 
 helmets, an interior and an exterior one ; the latter of which, 
 called Al Mawashah, the fillet, wreath, or wreathed garland, 
 he wore at the battle of Ohod." — (" Universal History.") 
 
 P. 181. — Turn to ashes on the lips. — " They say there are 
 
o^UTHOR'S U^OTES. 311 
 
 apple-trees upon the sides of this sea, which bear very lovely 
 fruit, but within are all full of ashes."— (Thevenot.) The 
 same is asserted of the oranges there. (See Witman's ' 'Travels 
 in Asiatic Turkey.") 
 
 " The Asphalt Lake, known by the name of the Dead Sea, 
 is very remarkable on account of the considerable proportion 
 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 ani- 
 mal nor plant can live in this water. "—(Klaproth's " Chemical 
 Analysis of the Water of the Dead Sea," Annals of Philoso- 
 phy, January, 1813.) Hasselquist, however, doubts the truth 
 of this last assertion, as there are shell-fish 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. 
 
 P. ISl.— Lakes that shone in mockery nigh.—"' The Suhrab, 
 or Water of the Desert, is said to be caucod by the rarefaction 
 of the atmosphere from extreme heat ; and, which augments 
 the delusion, 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 still lake." — (Pottinger.) 
 
 "As to the unbelievers, their works are like a vapour in a 
 plain which the thirsty traveller thinketh to be water, until 
 when he cometh thereto he findeth it to be nothing. " — ( Koran, 
 chap, xxiv.) 
 
 P. lS3.—The Bid-musk.— ''A wind which prevails in Febru- 
 ary, called Bidmusk, from a small and odoriferous flower of 
 that name." — "The wind which blows these flowers com- 
 monly lasts till the end of the month."— (Le Bruyn.) 
 
 P. 183. — Sea-gipsies, who live forever on the water. — "The 
 Biajiis are of two races : the one is settled on Borneo, and are 
 a rude but warlike and industrious nation, who reckon them- 
 selves the original possessors of the Island of Borneo. The 
 other is a species of sea-gipsies or itinerant fishermen, who 
 
312 LALL/i T{OOKH. 
 
 live 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 Biajiis perform their offering to the God of 
 Evil, launching a small bark, loaded with all the sins and 
 misfortunes of the nation, which are imagined to fall on the 
 imhappy crew that may be so unlucky as first to meet with it." 
 — (Dr. Leyden on the Languages and Literature of the Indo- 
 Chinese Nations.) 
 
 P. 183. — The violet sherbets. — "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 most esteem, and which is drunk by the 
 Grand Signer himself, is made of violets and sugar." — (Tav- 
 ernier.) 
 
 P. 183. — The pathetic measure of Nava. — " Last of all 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.") 
 
 P. 185. — No music timed her parting oar. — "The Easterns 
 used to set out on their longer voyages with music. " — 
 (Harmer.) 
 
 P. 185.— The Gate of Tears.—'' The Gate of Tears, the 
 straits or passage into the Red Sea, commonly called Babel- 
 mandel. It received this name from the old Arabians, on ac- 
 count of the danger of the navigation, and the number of ship- 
 wrecks by which it was distinguished ; which induced them 
 to consider as dead, and to wear mourning for, all who had 
 the boldness to hazard the passage through it into the Ethio- 
 pic ocean." — (Richardson.) 
 
 P. 185. — In the still warm and living breath. — " I have been 
 
tAUTHOR'S U^OTES. 313 
 
 told that whensoever an animal falls down dead, one or more 
 vultures, unseen before, instantly appear." — (Pennant.) 
 
 P. 185. — A young bird of Babylon. — "They fasten some 
 writing to the wings of a Bagdat or Babylonian pigeon." — 
 (" Travels of Certain Englishmen.") 
 
 P. 186. — Around their jasper fount. — " The Empress of 
 Jehan-Guire used to divert herself with feeding tame fish in 
 her canals, some of which were many years afterwards known 
 by fillets of gold, which she caused to be put round them." — 
 (Harris.) 
 
 P. 186. — To tell her ruby rosary. — "Le Tespih, qui est un 
 chapelet compost de 99 petites boules d'agate, de jaspe, d'am- 
 bre, de corail, ou d'autre mati^re pr^cieuse. J'en ai vu un 
 superbe au Seigneur Jerpos; il ^toit de belles et grosses perles 
 parfaites et ^gales, estim^ trente mille piastres." — (Toderini.) 
 
 P. 189. — Like meteor brands. — The meteors that Pliny calls 
 "faces." 
 
 P. 189.— TAe Star of Egypt.—'' The briUiant Canopus, un- 
 seen in European climates." — (Brown.) 
 
 P. 189.— TAe White Islands of the TFesf.— See Wilford's 
 learned Essays on the Sacred Isles of the West. 
 
 P. 190. — That lightning-gem. — A precious stone of the Indies, 
 called by the ancients Cerauneum, 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 " Dissertation " in Harris's " Voyages " 
 supposes it to be the opal. 
 
 P. 192.— ^A€^■rfirar6.— D'Herbelot, art. " Agduani." 
 
 P. 192. — Each yellow vest, that rebel hue. — " The Guebres 
 are known by a dark yellow colour, which the men aflfect in 
 their clothes." — (Thevenot.) 
 
 P. 192. — The Tartar fleece upon their caps. — " The Kolah or 
 cap, worn by the Persians, is made of the skin of the sheep of 
 Tartary . "—(Waring.) 
 
314 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 P. 197.— Open her bosom's glowing veil.— 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.) 
 
 P. 200. — The sorrowful tree^ Nilica. — " Blossoms of the sor- 
 rowful Nyctanthes give a durable colour to silk. ' '— ( ' 'Remarks 
 on the Husbandry of Bengal," p. 200.) Nilica is one of the 
 Indian names of this flower.— (Sir W. Jones.) The Persians 
 call it Gul. — (Carreri.) 
 
 P. 201. — That cooling feast the traveller loves. — " 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 Haukal.) 
 
 P. 202. — The Searchers of the Grave. — The two terrible an- 
 gels Monkir andNakir, who are called " the Searchers of the 
 Grave " in the " Creed of the Orthodox Mahometans," given 
 by Ockley, vol. ii. 
 
 P. 202. — The mandrake^s charnel leaves at night. — " The 
 Arabians call the mandrake ' the Devil's candle,' on account 
 of its shining appearance in the night." — (Richardson.) 
 
 P. 208. — The still Halls of Ishmonie. — For an account of 
 Ishmonie, the petrified city in Upper Egypt, where it is said 
 there are many statues of men, women, etc., to be seen to this 
 day, see Perry's *' View of the Levant." 
 
 P. 210. — To roses turn'' d the death-Jiames. — The Ghebers say 
 that when Abraham, their g^eat Prophet, was thrown into the 
 fire by order of Nimrod, the flame turned instantly into " a 
 bed of roses, where the child sweetly reposed."— (Tavernier.) 
 
 Of their other Prophet, Zoroaster, there is a story told in 
 Dion Prusseus, Orat. 36, that the love of wisdom and virtue 
 leading him to a solitary life upon a mountain, he found it 
 one day all in a flame, shining with celestial fire, out of which 
 he came without any harm, and instituted certain sacrifices 
 to God, who, he declared, then appeared to him. — (See Patrick 
 on Exodus, iii. 2.) 
 
 P. 213. — A ponderous sea-horn. — "The shell called Siian- 
 
AUTHOR'S 3XPTES. 315 
 
 kos, common to India, Africa, and the Mediterranean, and 
 still used in many parts as a trumpet for blowing alarms, or 
 giving signals : it sends forth a deep and hollow sound." — 
 (Pennant.) 
 
 P. 213.— The white ox-tails strearn'd behind.—'''' 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.) 
 
 P. 215.— Sweet as the angel IsraJiVs. — " The angel Israfil, 
 who has the most melodious voice of aU God's creatures." — 
 (Sale.) 
 
 P. 218.— Through Golconda^s vale.— See Hoole upon the 
 "Story of Sinbad." 
 
 F. 221.— By sudden swell of Jordan^ s pride.— ""^ In this 
 thicket upon the banks of the Jordan several sorts of wild 
 beasts are wont to harbour themselves, whose being washed 
 out of the covert by the overflowings of the river gave occa- 
 sion to that allusion of Jeremiah, ' he shall come up like a lion 
 from the swelling of Jordan.' " — (Maundrell's " Aleppo.") 
 
 P. 228. — Like the wind of the south o^er a summer lute biota- 
 ing. — " This wind (the Samoor) so softens the strings of lutes 
 that they can never be tuned while it lasts."— (Stephens's 
 "Persia.") 
 
 P. 22'^.— With nought but the sea-star to light up her tomb.— 
 " One of the greatest curiosities found in the Persian Gulf is 
 a fish which the English call Star-fish. It is circular, and at 
 night very luminous, resembling the full moon surrounded by 
 rays."— (Mh^a Abu Taleb.) 
 
 P. 228. — When the merry date-season is burning.— For a d&~ 
 seription of the merriment of the date-time, of their work, 
 their dances, and their return home from the palm-groves at 
 the end of autumn with the fruits, see Kaempfer, " Amceni- 
 tat. Exot." 
 
 P. 229.— That ever the sorrowing sea-bird has wept.— Some 
 naturalists have imagined that amber is a concretion of the 
 tears of birds.— (See Trevoux, Chambers.) 
 
316 LALLA T^OOKH. 
 
 P. 229. — Where the sands of the Caspian are sparkling. — 
 "The bay Kieselarke, which is otherwise called the Golden 
 Bay, the sand whereof shines as fire." — (Stray.) 
 
 P. 230. — The summary criticism of the Chabuk, — " The ap- 
 plication of whips or rods." — (Dubois.) 
 
 P. 231.— Chief Holder of the Girdle of Beautiful Forms.— 
 Kaempfer mentions such an officer among the attendants of 
 the King of Persia, and calls him ' ' f ormae corporis aastimator. ' ' 
 His business was, at stated periods, to measure the ladies of 
 the Haram by a sort of regulation-girdle, whose limits it was 
 not thought graceful to exceed. If any of them outgrew this 
 standard of shape, they were reduced by abstinence till they 
 came within proper bounds. 
 
 P. 231.— Forbidden Biver.— The Attock. " 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.") 
 
 P. 232. — One genial star that rises nightly over their heads. 
 — " The inhabitants of this country (Zinge) are never afflicted 
 with sadness or melancholy ; on this subject the Sheikh Abu- 
 al-Kheir-Azhari has the following distich : — 
 
 " ' Who is the man without care or sorrow, (tell) that I 
 may rub my hand to him. 
 
 " ' (Behold) the Zingians, without care or sorrow, frolic- 
 some with tipsiness and mirth.' 
 
 " The philosophers have discovered that the cause of this 
 cheerfulness proceeds from the influence of the star Soheil or 
 Canopus, which rises over them, every night." — (Extract from 
 a Geographical Persian Manuscript called " Heft Aklim, or 
 the Seven Climates," translated by W. Ouseley, Esq.) 
 
 P. 233. — Those unfortunate little lizards. — " The lizard Stel- 
 lio. The Arabs call it Hardun. The Turks kill it, for they 
 imagine that by declining the head it min>ics them when they 
 say their prayers." — (Hasselquist.) 
 
 P. 233. — Boyal Gardens.— For these particulars respecting 
 
AUTHOR'S UKOTES. 317 
 
 Hussun Abdaul, I am indebted to the very interesting Intro- 
 duction of Mr. Elphinstone's work upon Caubul. 
 
 P. 233. — "Jit was too delicious.''^ — "As you enter at that 
 Bazar, 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 pas- 
 sage 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.' " 
 
 P. 233. — The Sultana Nourmahal, the Light of the Haram. 
 — Nourmahal signifies Light of the Haram. She was after- 
 wards called Nourjehan, or the Light of the World. 
 
 P. 234. — Haroun-al-Baschid and his fair mistress Marida. 
 — " Haroun-al-Rasehid, cinqui^rae Khalife des Abassides, 
 s'^tant un jour brouill^ aveo une de ses maitresses nomm^e 
 Maridah, qu'il aimoit cependant jusqu'k I'exc^s, et cette mds- 
 intelligence ayant d^jk dur^ quelque tems, commenga k s'en- 
 nuyer. Giafar Barmaki, son favori, qui s'en apergut, com- 
 manda h Abbas-ben- Ahnaf, excellent poete de ce tems-1^, de 
 composer quelques vers sur le sujet de cette brouillerie. Ce 
 poete ex^cuta I'ordre de Giafar, qui fit chanter ces vers par 
 Moussali en presence du Khalife, et ce prince fut tellement 
 touchy de la tendresse des vers du poete et de la douceur de la 
 voix du musieien, qu'il alia aussitot trouver Maridah, et fit sa 
 paix avec elle." — (D'Herbelot.) 
 
 P. 235. — With its roses the brightest that earth ever gave. — 
 "The rose of Kashmire, for its brilliancy and delicacy of 
 odour, has long been proverbial in the East." — (Forster.) 
 
 P. 235. — A zone of sweet bells.— '''' Tied round her waist the 
 zone of bells, that sounded with ravishing melody." — (" Song 
 of Jayadeva.") 
 
 P. 236. — The young aspen-trees.— '''' The little isles in the 
 
318 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 lake of Cachemire are set with arbours and large-leaved as- 
 pen-trees, slender and tall."— (Bernier.) 
 
 P. 236. — The mountainous portal. — " The Tuckt Suliman, 
 the name bestowed by the Mahometans on this hill, forms one 
 side of a grand portal to the Lake." — (Forster.) 
 
 P. 2ZQ.— Feast of Roses.—"' The Feast of Koses continues 
 the whole time of their remaining in bloom." (See Pietro de 
 la Valle.) 
 
 P. 236.— The Floweret of a hundred leaves.— '' Gul sad berk, 
 the Rose of a hundred leaves. I believe a particular species." 
 — (Ouseley.) 
 
 P. 237. — The palms of Baramoule. — (Bernier.) 
 
 P. 237. — Belays hills. — A place mentioned in the Toozek 
 Jehangeery, or Memoirs of Jehan-Guire, where there is an 
 account of the beds of saffron-flowers about Cashmere. 
 
 P. 238. — Sung from his lighted gallery. — "It is the custom 
 among the women to employ the Maazeen to chant from the 
 gallery of the nearest minaret, which on that occasion is illum- 
 inated, and the women assembled at the house respond at in- 
 tervals with a ziraleet or joyous chorus." — (Russel.) 
 
 P. 238. — From gardens, where the silken swing. — "The swing 
 is a favourite pastime in the East, as promoting a circulation 
 of air, extremely refreshing in those sultry climates." — 
 (Richardson.) 
 
 " The swings are adorned with festoons. This pastime is 
 accompanied with the music of voices and of instruments, 
 hired by the masters of the swings." — (Thevenot.) 
 
 P. 238. — Tents that line the way. — " 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," etc., etc. — (Herbert.) 
 
 P. 239. — An answer m song to the kiss of each wave. — " An 
 old commentator of the Chou-King says, the ancients having 
 remarked that a current of water made some of the stones 
 
AUTHOR'S (HOTES. 319 
 
 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." 
 — (Grosier.) 
 
 This miraculous quality has been attributed also to the 
 shore of Attica. " Hujus littus, ait Capella, concentum mu- 
 sicum illisis terrae undis reddere, quod propter tantam erudi- 
 tionis vim puto dictum." — (Ludov. Vives in Augustin. de 
 Civitat. Dei, lib. xviii. c. 8.) 
 
 P. 239. — The magnificent Son of Acbar. — Jehan-Guire was 
 the son of the Great Acbar. 
 
 P. 240. — Peris Just loosed from their cages, — In the wars 
 of the Dives with the Peris, whenever the former took the 
 latter prisoners " they shut them up in iron cages, and hung 
 them on the highest trees. Here they were visited by their 
 companions, who brought them the choicest odours." — (Rich- 
 ardson.) 
 
 P. 241. — The flowers of this planet. — In the Malay language 
 the same word signifies women and flowers. 
 
 P. 241 —That City of Delight. — The capital of Shadukiam. 
 
 P. 243. — He sits, with flowerets fetter''d round. — See the 
 representation of the Eastern Cupid, pinioned closely round 
 with wreaths of flowers in Picart's " C^r^monies Religieuses." 
 
 P. 243. — Lose all their glory when he flies. — "Among the 
 birds of Tonquin is a species of goldfinch, which sings so 
 melodiously that it is called the Celestial Bird. Its wings, 
 when it is perched, appear variegated with beautiful colours, 
 but when it flies they lose all their splendour." — (Grosier.) 
 
 P. 243. — Whose pinion knows no resting-place. — " As these 
 birds on the Bosphorous are never known to rest, they are 
 called by the French ' les ames damn^es.' " — (Dalloway.) 
 
 P. 244. — If there his darling rose is not. — " You may place 
 a hundred handfuls of fragrant herbs and flowers before the 
 nightingale, yet he wishes not, in his constant heart, for more 
 than the sweet breath of his beloved rose." — (Jami.) 
 
320 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 P. 245.— T^e great Mantra.—^'' 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.) 
 
 P. 245.— 7%e gold gems of Afric.—'' The gold jewels of 
 Jinnie, which are called by the Arabs El Herrez, from the 
 supposed charm they contain." — (Jackson.) 
 
 P. 245.— T^e Siltirn's harm.—"- A demon, supposed to haunt 
 woods, etc., in human shape." — (Richardson.) 
 
 P. 245.— Nourmahal.—HhQ name of Jehan-Guire before his 
 accession to the throne. 
 
 P. 2'^.— Anemones and Seas of Go/c?.— " Hemasagara, or 
 the Sea of Gold, with flowers of the brightest gold color." — 
 (Sir W. Jones.) 
 
 P. 246.— Their buds on Camadeva''s quiver.—'''' This tree 
 (the Nagacesara) is one of the most delightful on earth, and 
 the delicious odour of its blossoms justly gives them a place 
 in the quiver of Camadeva, or the God of Love." — (Sir W. 
 Jones.) 
 
 P. 246.— Js caWd the Mistress of the Night.—'' The Malay- 
 ans style the tuberose (Polianthes tuherosa) Sandal Malam, or 
 the Mistress of the Night." — (Pennant.) 
 
 P. 247. — Tliat wander through Zamara^s shades. — The peo- 
 ple of the Batta country in Sumatra (of which Zamara is one 
 of the ancient names), when not engaged in war, lead an idle, 
 inactive life, passing the day in playing on a kind of flute, 
 crowned with garlands of flowers, among which the globe- 
 amaranthus, a native of the country, mostly prevails." — 
 (Marsden.) 
 
 P. 247.-2^ divine Amrita tree.—'''' The largest and richest 
 sort (of the Jambu, or rose-apple) is called Amrita, or immor- 
 tal, and the mytholog:ists of Tibet apply the same word to a 
 celestial tree, bearing ambrosial fruit." — (Sir W. Jones.) 
 
 P. 247.— IZ^ basil tvft.SwQQt basil, called Rayhan in Per- 
 sia, and generally found in churchyards. " The women in 
 
AUTHOR'S ^OTES. 321 
 
 Egjrpt go, at least two days in the week, to pray and weep, 
 at the sepiilchres 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." — (Maillet, Lett. 10.) 
 
 P. 247. — To scent the desert and the dead.—''' In the Great 
 Desert are found many stalks of lavender and rosemary." — 
 (" Asiatic Researches.") 
 
 P. 248. — Blooms on a leafless bough. — "The almond-tree, 
 with white flowers, blossoms on the bare branches." — (Hassel- 
 quist.) 
 
 P 249. — The mountain-herb that dyes. — An herb on Mount 
 Libanus, which is said to communicate a yellow golden hue to 
 the teeth of the goats and other animals that graze upon it. 
 Niebuhr thinks this may be the herb which the Eastern alchy- 
 mists look to as a means of making gold. " Most of those al- 
 chymical enthusiasts think themselves sure of success, if they 
 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 Has- 
 chischat ed dab.*^ 
 
 Father Jerom Dandini, however, asserts that the teeth of 
 the goats at Mount Libanus are of a silver colour ; and adds, 
 *' This confirms to me that which 1 observed in Candia: to 
 wit, that the animals that live on Mount Ida eat a certain 
 herb which renders their teeth of a golden colour; which, ac- 
 cording to my judgment, cannot otherwise proceed than from 
 the mines which are underground." — (Dandini's "Voyage to 
 Mount Libanus.") 
 
 P. 249. — Azab. — The myrrh country. 
 
 P. 249.— Where Love himself, of old, lay sleeping,—"' This 
 idea (of deities living in shells) was not unknown to the Greeks, 
 who represent the young Nerites, one of the Cupids, as living 
 in shells on the shores of the Red Sea." — (Wilford.) 
 
 P. 250.— Chindara''s warbling fount.—'"'' A fabulous foun- 
 tain, where instruments are said to be constantly playing." — 
 (Richardson,) 
 21 
 
322 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 P. 251. — The cinnamon-seed from grove to grove. — " The 
 Pompadour pigeon is the species, which, by carrying the fruit 
 of the cinnamon to different places, is a great disseminator of 
 this valuable tree." — (See Brown's lUustr. Tab. 19.) 
 
 P. 251. — The pasty the present, and future of pleasure. — 
 " Whenever our pleasure arises from a succession of sounds, 
 it is a perception of a complicated nature, made up of a sensa- 
 tion of the present sound or note, and an idea or remembrance 
 of the foregoing, while their mixture and concurrence produce 
 such a mysterious delight, as neither could have produced 
 alone. And it is often heightened by an anticipation of the 
 succeeding notes. Thus Sense, Memory, and Imagination are 
 conjunctively employed." — (Gerrard on Taste.) 
 
 This is exactly the Epicurean theory of Pleasure, as ex- 
 plained by Cicero ; — " Quocirca corpus gaudere tamdiu, dum 
 prsBsentem sentiat voluptatem: animum et praesentem perci- 
 pere pariter cum corpore, et prospicere venientem, nee prse- 
 teritam prseterjfluere sinere." 
 
 Madame de Stael accounts upon the same principle for the 
 gratification we derive from rhyme: — " Elle est I'image de I'es- 
 pdrance et du souvenir. Un son nous fait d^sirer eelui qui 
 doit lui r^pondre, et quand le second retentit il nous rappelie 
 celui qui vient de nous ^chapper." 
 
 P. 251. — That earlier dawn. — "The Persians have two 
 mornings, the Soobhi Kazim 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 mountain, and that darting its rays 
 through it, it is the cause of the Soobhi Kazim, or this tem- 
 porary appearance of daybreak. As it ascends, the earth is 
 again veiled in darkness, until the sun rises above the moun- 
 tain 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 morn, on the Indian steep 
 From her eabin'd loop-hole peep." 
 
AUTHOR'S O^OTES, 323 
 
 P. 252. — In his magnificent Shalimar, — " In the centre ol 
 the plain, as it approaches the Lake, one of the Delhi Empe- 
 rors, I believe Shah Jehan, constructed a spacious garden 
 called the Shalimar, which is abundantly stored with fruit- 
 trees and flowering shrubs. Some of the rivulets which inter- 
 sect the plain 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 Sha- 
 limar. To decorate this spot, the Mogul princes of India have 
 displayed an equal magnificence 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 at- 
 tend, and the servants prepare sherbets, coffee, and the hoo- 
 kah. The frame of the doors of the principal saloon is com- 
 posed of pieces of a stone of 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 Mogral princes, and are esteemed of great value." — 
 (Forster.) 
 
 P. 253. — Beauty from its founts and streams. — " The waters 
 of Cachemir are the most renowned from its being supposed 
 that the Caehemirians are indebted for their beauty to them." 
 — (Ali Yezdi.) 
 
 P. 253. — Those wandering minstrel-maids. — " From him I 
 received the following little Gazzel, or Love Song, the notes 
 of which he committed to paper from the voice of one of 
 those singing girls of Cashmere, who wander from that de- 
 lightful valley over the various parts of India."— (" Persian 
 Miscellanies.") 
 
 P. 253. — Delicate as the roses there. — "The roses of the 
 Jinan Nile, or the Garden of the Nile (attached to the Empe- 
 ror of Marocco's palace), are unequalled, and mattresses are 
 made of their leaves for the men of rank to recline upon." — 
 (Jackson.) 
 
 P. 253. — With Paphian diamonds in their locks.— '^ On the 
 
324 LALLA T^OOKH. 
 
 side of a mountain near Paphos there is a cavern which pro- 
 duces the most beautiful rock-crystal. On account of its brill- 
 iancy it has beeo called the Paphian diamond." — (Mariti.) 
 
 P. 253. — The gold meads of Candahar. — " There is a part 
 of Candahar, called Peria, or Fairy Land." — (Thevenot ..) In 
 some of those countries to the north of India, vegetable gold 
 is supposed to be produced. 
 
 P. 253. — Had been by magic all set flying. — ^' These are the 
 butterflies 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-gardens." — 
 (Dunn.) 
 
 P. 254. — The features of young Arab maids. — " The Arabian 
 women wear black masks with little clasps prettily ordered." 
 — (Carreri.) Niebuhr mentions their showing but one eye in 
 conversation. 
 
 P. 254.— Grapes of gold.—'"'' The golden grapes of Casbin." 
 — (Description of Persia.) 
 
 P. 254. — And sunniest apples that Caubul. — ''The fruits 
 exported from Caubul are apples, pears, pomegranates," etc. 
 — (Elphinstone.) 
 
 P 254. — Its thousand gardens. — "We sat down under a 
 tree, listened to 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 gar- 
 dens," etc. — (Elphinstone.) 
 
 P. 255. — Malaya's nectar'' d mangusteen. — "The mangusteen, 
 the most delicate fruit in the world ; the pride of the Malay 
 islands. ' ' — (Marsden. ) 
 
 P. 255. — Seed of the Sun, from Iran''s land.—'"'' A delicious 
 kind of apricot, called by the Persians Tokm-ek-shems, signi- 
 fying sun's seed." — (Description of Persia.) 
 
 P. 255. — Rich conserve of Visna cherries. — " Sweetmeats in 
 
AUTHOR'S tKOTES. 325 
 
 a crystal cup, consisting of rose-leaves in conserve, with lemon 
 of Visna cherry, orange flowers," etc. — (Russel.) 
 
 P. 255. — Feed on in Erac''s rocky dells. — "Antelopes, crop- 
 ing the fresh berries of Erac." — ("The Moallakat," poem of 
 Tarafa.) 
 
 P. 255. — Urns of porcelain from that isle. — 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. — (See Kaempfer.) 
 
 P. 2^^.— Amber i2oso/^/.—(" Persian Tales.") 
 
 P. 255. — From vineyards of the Green-Sea Gushing. — The 
 white wine of Kishma. 
 
 P. 255. — Offer'' d a city^s wealth, — " The King of Zeilan is 
 said to have the very finest ruby that was ever seen. Kublai- 
 Khan 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 Polo.) 
 
 P. 256.— Upon- a rosy lotus wreath.— The Indians feign that 
 Cupid was first seen floating down the Ganges on the Nym- 
 phoea Nelumbo, — (See Pennant.) 
 
 F. 256.— When warm they rise from Te/lis^ brooks.— Te^is 
 is celebrated for its natural warm baths. — (See Ebn Haukal.) 
 
 P. 256. — Of a syrinda. — " The Indian Syrinda, or guitar." 
 
 — (Symez.) 
 
 P. 257. — It is this, it is this. — " Around the exterior of the 
 Dewan Khars (a building of Shah Allum's), in the cornice are 
 the '.following lines in letters of gold upon a ground of white 
 marble: — ' If there be a paradise upon earth, it is this, it is 
 this.' "-(Franklin.) 
 
 P. 257. — As the flower of the Amra just oped by a bee. — 
 *' Delightful are the flowers of the Amra trees on the moun- 
 tain-tops, while the murmuring bees pursue their voluptuous 
 toil." — (Song of Jayadeva.) 
 
326 LALLA T{OOKH, 
 
 P. 257. — That rain from the sky, which turns into pearls. — 
 " The Nisan or drops of spring rain, which they believe to 
 produce pearls if they fall into shells." — (Richardson.) 
 
 P. 257. — Who for wine of this earth left the fountains above. 
 — For an account of the share which wine had in the fall of 
 the angels, see Mariti. 
 
 P 257. — Israjil, the Angel, there. — The Angel of Music, 
 
 P. 260.— When first H is by the lapwing found.— The Hud- 
 hud, or Lapwing, is supposed to Lave the power of discover- 
 ing water underground. 
 
 P. 263. — Like that painted porcelain. — "The Chinese had 
 formerly the art of painting on the side of porcelain vessels 
 fish and other animals, which were only perceptible when the 
 vessel was full of liquor. They call this species Kia-tsm ; that 
 is, azure is put in press, on account of the manner in which the 
 azure is laid on." — " They are every now and then trying to 
 recover the art of this magical painting, but to no purpose," 
 —(Dunn.) 
 
 264. — Azor. — 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." — (Hafiz.) 
 
 P. 264. — That Valley so justly called the Unequalled. — Kach- 
 mire may be Nazeer. — (Forster.) 
 
 P. 264. — Miraculous fountains. — "The pardonable super- 
 stition of the sequestered inhabitants has multiplied the 
 places of worship of Mahadeo, of Beshan, and of Brama. All 
 Cashmere is holy land, and miraculous fountains abound." — 
 (Major Rennel's Memoirs of a Map of Hindostan.) 
 
 Jehan-Guire mentions " a fountain in Cashmere called Tir- 
 nagh, which signifies 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 Cashmere. The vestiges of 
 places of worship and sanctity are to be traced without num- 
 ber amongst the ruins and the caves which are interspersed 
 
AUTHOR'S C^OTES. 327 
 
 in its neighbourhood."— (Toozek Jehangeery.) See " Asiat. 
 Misc." vol ii. 
 
 There is another account of Cashmere by Abul-Fazil, the 
 author of the Ayin-Acbaree, "who," says Major Rennel, 
 " appears to have caught some of the enthusiasm of the valley, 
 by his description of the holy places in it." 
 
 P. 264. — Roofed with flowers. — " On a standing roof of wood 
 is laid a covering of fine earth, which shelters the building 
 from the great quantity of snow that falls in the winter season. 
 This fence communicates an equal warmth in winter, as a re- 
 freshing coolness 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. ' ' — (Forster .) 
 
 P. 265. — The triple-coloured tortoise-shell of Pegu. — "Two 
 hundred slaves there are who have no other office 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 Blanc's Travels.) 
 
 P. 265. — Like the meteors of the north as they are seen by 
 those hunters. — For a description of the Aurora Borealis as it 
 appears to these hunters, see " Encyclopaedia." 
 
 P. 266. — Odoriferous wind. — This wind, which is to blow 
 from Syria Damascena, 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 I ' " — (Sale's Preliminary Discourse.) 
 
 P. 268. — As precious as the Cerulean Throne of Coolburga. 
 — " On Mohammed Shaw's return to Koolburga (the capital 
 of Dekkan), he made a great festival, and mounted this throne 
 with much pomp and magnificence, calling it Firozeh or Ceru- 
 lean. I have heard some old persons, who saw the throne 
 Firozeh in the reign of Sultan Mamood Bhamenee, describe 
 it. They say that it was in length nine feet, and three in 
 breadth ; made of ebony, covered with plates of pure gold. 
 
328 LALLA T{OOKH. 
 
 and set with precious stones of immense value. Every prince 
 of the house of Bhamenee, who possessed this throne, made 
 a point of adding to it some rich stones ; so that when, in the 
 reign of 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 con- 
 cealed by the number of jewels." — (Ferishta.) 
 
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