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THE LIBRARY
OF
THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA
LOS ANGELES
r
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THE
x\IAID OF ARABY,
AN
WITH OTHER POEMS,
DEDICATED (BY PERMISSION J TO
HER GRACE THE DUCHESS OF LEINSTER,
<S>
^^wv^v^-vv
" There is a World where souls are free,
" Where Tyrants taint not Nature's bliss,
'< If Death that World's bright opening be
" Oh ! who would live a slave in this ?"
Moore.
Printed by J. KIRKWOOB, 5, East Jrran-St.
Sold by Messrs. C. P. Archer, Dame-Street, MILLIKI^^^
Grafton-St. and Larkim, Parliament-St. and by
Messrs. Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme
and Brown, London.
1820.
TK
HER GRACE
THE DUCHESS OF LEINSTER.
May it please your Grace.
At a period when the moral and
intellectual energies of our Country have attained a degree
of elevation unexampled in our history, it may well appear
presumptuous in an humble individual, to bring his feeble
tribute to the shrine, which genius has consecrated to the
literature of his country; but his offering, like the borate
of the heart, however unasked, may not be unaccepted j
and, if the approbation of one, whose dignity of mind
reflects lustre on her station, could disarm criticism of its
virulence, he might repose with confidence in your Grace's
protection.
Distinguished by the possession of every accom-
plishment, Mid by the exercise of every virtue, which can
, adorn or dignify the female character, your Grace is revered
still more by your adopted countrymen, for that spirit of
benevolence and condescension, which has endeared you to
the hearts of all around you. By the peculiar excrcijje of
Uie domestic virtues, you have upheld the fame of the
national character ; you have given to the resident Nobility
of our land a bright example for imitation ; and have con-
iert'ed additional splendor on the illustrious name of
824090
Leinstcr a flame long enshrined in the euTogy of olir
hearts. Under this impression,' I have dared to place
the first* oflFspring of my fancy bcnejtth the shelter of your
Grace's name, convinced that such defence will guard it as
well from the rage of criticism, as the coldness of neglect.
I cannot have the vanity to suppose that this
Vork should pass altogether uncensured ; yet I trust that I
may claim some indulgence from having finished it, ere I
had attained the age of twenty. Its defects, I am sensible,
are numerous, and its merits few ; but I appeal to the nati-
onal gallantry of my countrymen, for the protection of the
Arab nuiid; and I rely with confidence on the support of
her own sex, ambitious to follow the example of your
Grace.
That yoiu" Grace may long continue in the
enjoyment of every blessing, and the exercise of every
virtue, is the dearest hope of
Your Grace's most obliged,
and very hmnble Servant,
The Author.
THE
IMAID OF ARABY.
A.>#Jw.4t~X>
> 'i-W ^
0'
Harp of tlie East! that hangs in Iran's^ hall.
Descend, and let me wake thy soothing tone;
Let thy wild chords the memory recal
Of other times, alas! for ever flown.
Let thy soft numbers mingle with the stream
That on my startled ear its murmur flings.
Whilst rays of glory issue from the beam
That sheds its radiance qp. thy golden strings.
Wake harp of Iran! wake from sorrow's trance,
'Mid warring wiads I view thine aii*y form.
Where fiery meteors to the red-beam glance,
Brfght as the sun-shine *mid the summer storm.
1 The true ori^al name of the Empire of Persiai
Wild as the winds that whistle on thy shore,
Soft as the breeze that murmurs through the grovCx
I*et thy lov*d chords the mingling measures pour
Of War's stern language and the notes of Lovel
Though weak and tuneless be tlie youthful hand
That o'er thy mystic mazes dares to stray,
fjftill Envy shall not rear her deathful brand,
Since Beauty smiles upon the humble lay.
Then wake, sweet Harp ! whilst o'er my pensive miu4
riit i-j.l
Past pleasures steal in fitful change along,
Oh! that my trembliftg hand one spark may find
Of that bright fire which warm*d thii|p; earlier Son^!
%^%v%^
.<^
O'er Oman's sea* and its lovely Isles
Softly the light of Eve reposes.
Its waters sparkling in the smiles
That ev'ning's beauteous orb discloses.
No breezes curl the blue sea-wave
Though many a dimple swells its bosom,
Soft as the teardew*d sighs that lave
The sweet Nyctanthes' lonely blossom,
That flings upon the evening air
Its treasured hoard of sweetness there.
1 The Fer^an GalC-KUod also the ffreen 5^-^
B
6 mIaid of araby.
Calm is the hour as that pure ray
I That gilds the radiant close of day
When dn the bdiom of the West
The summer sunbeam. sinks to rest;
No sound is heard o*er sea or plain
Save the wild lapwing's mournful cry
Flitting along the cloudless sky
Or pcrch*d on some'Tdiie ruih'^ faile, "^ ' '~
The palm trees ^& tlife'Mets* ^^b ^^ t^-^oS
So still the a5r-i2&eiifoti6nle^s.
Save whence Trretezes" "softly glide-
In murmurs o'er tlie slumb'ring tide.
Else all is solemn loxi^inesg;
The NightingSe 'ht'%ft'fe^t6# ^^'^ '
To wefep all night licr absent matW^'^" ^"^
And beauteously her leaves disclose
The sorrdSrlr^^f Hit ^Weiy state.*
1 In allusion to the beautiful Persian &ble of the Nighttngalf
being enamoured with the Rose.
The first glance of the rising moon
Scarce dawn'd upon yon mountain's side,
When from thg w^ ^| Gpm^oo^^
A bark flew o'er the ev'ning tidg;
And swift and light that shallop flew
lliough scarce a zephyr fann'd the air,
As if the secret thoughts it knew
Of him, who sat all lonely there, '^^ ^^
Gazing upon the blue sea-wave
That bears his bark to yonder Isle,
Which lies like some lone Warrior's grave
Mid tears that bloom, and beams that smile.
And beauteous as the emerald gem
That flames in Persia's diadem.
Is the' Islet to whose golden shore
That warrior points his lifted oar.
The breeze that fans its jasmine bowers
Is perfum'd with the sweetest flowers
2 A City*on the Persian si^c of the Gulfc
8 MAID OF ARABY.
That bloom beneath the Eastern sky.
Its groves of palm and amber vines,
It$ plaintain tree$ like golden shnnes
Delight the heart and charm the eye.
Its beauties and its uses too
Full well the Arab warriors knew,
And late when from the Persian shore
Tney fled their conquering foes before^
To this lone Isle their Chieftain came
Burning with indignation shame j
And with him all the sole remain^
Of those, who on Cadessia*s plains
Escaped the Persians' vengeful sword,
And here, where scarce a zephyr bore
The warshouts from the distant shore,
The tempest that behind them roar*d,
They like the rocks that round them grovf
Bade stem defiance to the foe.
MAID OF ARABRT. 9
But who is he ^whose eager glance
Is fix'd upon the blue expanse
Of Oman's sea around him flowing,
Watching each sparkle of its tide
As rippling 'gainst his shallop's side -p haf-^
And in the silver moonbeam glowing? o^oife
'Tis Tadmor leader of the band ^ ^om 'ii 'A
That from Cadessia's bloody Ijuid U>..isu
And the sweet groves of Samarcand, *-;ii k/f- : *
With swords of fire and hearts of flame *^*0-'^-
To meet their Arab foemen came, ^ ^ ^ -
And now upon the Green Sea strajid
In Valor's might securely stand
Resolv'd to guard their native land.
Now see him o'er the sparkling tide
With fearless heart his shallop guide.
Like some lone bird that from afar
Flies o'er the lake of Aral Nahr,*
1 Os 5ea of Aral iu Ptcrss^
10 JHID OF ARABY.
Nor stops his weary wings to rest
Upon its dark and gelid breast ;
So Tadmor's bark flew lightly o'er
The waters, to that Islet shore,
And as it mov'd the flashing spray
Shone in the moonshine's silver ray,
As if each beam of light from Heav'n
Back to its native orb was giv^n.
*Twas silent all* no sound was heard
As o*er the jnoonlit wave it flew,
.Save the light breeze that scarcely BtiiT*d
The palm tree leaves begeram'd with defs^ ^^
And roving those bright waters o^^er
Wafted that sl^aliop to the shore-
The Islet shore wa stern and steep.
By granite cliflfe and crags surrounded,
Where oft the eagle lov*d to sleep,
But ne'er did human footsteps trace
MAID OF ARABY, 11
Tlie^mazes of that lonely place, ^-^ ^^
r- r
Nor o'er those rocks hath seagoiJit'Btnmded;
Yet see from out his little boat
With active spring the warrior lea|,
And lighto as Yemen's^ mountain go^
Climbs fearless up the rocky steeps.
Now to the narrow causeway clinging
That beetles o*er the main below.
Now o*er the deepmouth'd cavern springing
And climbing i:^ its rugged brow;
*Till many a toil and danger pas^
<n ^m aoqis ^lisnO
He gains the topmoift cliff at last,
WTiere high projecting o*er the flood
A solitary watcbtow^r stopd. r r
But see yon casement upward spring! ^*'
And who is she whose raven hair
Dark as the heroh*s glossy wing
Is dancing in the moonlight there ?-^
.T '
1 Arabia,
12 MAir) OF ARABY*
*Ti8 stern Bel Razor's beauteous daught^.
Watching the silver moonbeams fling
Their radiance on the trembling water.
Yes, daughter of that Arab Chief
Whose cruel guile and vengeful hat^
Fill'd Iran's^ happy land with grief.
And left it lorn and desolate.
Oh! 'twas not thus beloved maid!
With beating heart and tearful ey<^
Thou'st sat in thy own native shade
Gazing upon the moonlight sky.
And never did the nightbeam shin^
Upon a lovelier form than thine
And never did the night breeze bear
To Heav'n, a purer spirit's pray'r.
When at each daybeam's sadd'ning* close
She wept o'er all the* unnumber'd woes
1 Fcft&t
MAID OF ARAmtV 1%
Her Father's dark and cruel hand
Had heap'd on Ij'an's hapless land.
For her sOul's spirit pure aud bright
Full many a weary, anxious night,
(When Tyranny securely slept,)
Jn dreary solitude hath wept
Wept o'er the scene of desolation ^i> iiiii U
Which shrouded that once happy Natieu*
Four moons have brighten'd Oman's wav
Of many an Arab corse the grave.
Since from the Persians' bloody shpro
Bel Hazor's dastard band flew o'er
The waters to this lonely Isle ;
But 'mid the direful scene of slaughter.
Forgot their Chieftain's beauteous Daughter,
Who in Hannozia'sj sacred aisle
Had offer'd up her prayers the while;
C ^
ttk MiilD OF ARABY*
And when the Tartar warriors rusb'd
Full on their foe, 'with conqliest flush*d^/^i^i i . -i
When carnage darkenM ev'ry street.
And Tadmor's sword flew forth to meet
The breast of him, whose blood alone i ^ >,'
Could for his Country's wrongs atone;
When ev'ry mosque and minaret
Was stain'd with human blood, he met*
* (Oh I Dot the daring Arab Chief,.
For farther off with fury rife.
Dauntless he wagM unequal strife.
But one in whom the pangs of grief
Had nearly stopp'd the throb of life,)
Bel Razor's beauteous child!
Low on her knees before a shrine
Bright image of a form divine.
She knelt and pray'd with eyes uptum'd.
Whose ev'ry glance was dark and wild,
Wild AS the flames that round her burn'd.
MAID OF ARABY. 15
Pown Tell the Warrior's sword his eye
That lighten'd with the battle's fire.
And flash'd his soul's consuming irejj
Bereav'd of ev'ry wilder glance, '^
In deathlike stillness mute suspense, ..*^y^*^^
Hung tremblingly on her, whose sigh
Of heartfelt angtiishV deep, intense^
Told that amid that carnage dire.
That scene of havoek darft and drear.
She liv'd, though death had lurk'd so near.
Rais'd by the youthful Warrior's arm.
Who sooth'd ftnd hush'd each wild alarm,
The Maid her senses soon recovers;
With beating heart, and sigh suppress'd.
She gaz^s round her, and discovers
Oh! not her own lov'd Father's' breast.
On which she oft was wont to rest.
But Tadmor's yellow Tartar vest!-*
16 MAID OP ABABT.
*** j That rebel Chief whose bloodstained brand
Was rear*d to free kis fiatiyg laiid ;f ^mAnr
From foreign foes, r\yhQ3^;|^VlW)^Kte bah
She thought could with the Tiger*^ vije J.*7y|^
The very B^enli^. of^J^ag.^ n^W .jjiHtsof) nl
Had caus'd njp^ ,t*WJ^ *fcf ough her fran^^.._ f -
As chiird the lifi^blood i^ h^r breasU ^ .^ r y.
And flung upoij !^r ^Q^j)]ef s r^t
Such visions of^|b^, PH.^^gl^3^-,^ ^^^.^ ^^
As haunt the woe strjick inoumei:*i^^j}|yain,t^j{ .j^i,;
,Evhi he that ruthless Chieftain novy
Is gazing on her fainting bnm, '^'C ^^^ V^ ^"^'^
His ardent eyebeatn's with'ring glance, ''^?^ ^" '
(With'rin^ indeed to J^ran's foe,) ^"^ ^^
His breathv--t!i^iyj^t'of xjest^^ -^^*^ ^^'^
Ijs breathing round her, death and woe !-^
The thouglit was madness, witli it cameff4^i|^ ^0
Feelings of tearor and of sharacj
INfAID OF ARABY* 17
But when she look*d and saw the eye ' '
Fresh with the light of mercy beaming,
And heard the soft, the pensive sigh,
Quick from his manly bosom streaming ;
Oh! hush'd was then each turbid fear.
And wither'd ev'ry darker thought.
While hopes to feeling ever dear.
Their consolation quickly brought;
Ev'n he, that Chief ^whose eye so late
Glanc'd like the eagle's on the dove,
Shewing his bosom's secret hate.
Is now ^11 tenderness and love.
And borne on his supporting arm, ^^
Far from the madd'ning strife of men,
iFar, far from all but love's alarm.
The Arab maiden breathes again.
Again she breathes the peaceful air .?V
Of h,erj]iwn ^weet acacia jjcwer.
18 ]MAID OF ARABY.
And feels her maidens* tender care
Soothing her fears in that dark hour.
The strife is o'er the Arab's hurl'd
Down from his throne of blood and death.
And Freedom's flag again unfurl'd
Is waving in the morning's breath.
The strife is o'er -and morning's smile
Is glancing on Bel Razor's bark,
Lighting the Chief to yonder Isle
In Oman's Sea, now wild and da^-k,
And Tadmor froip the scene of slaughter,
Where Pity shed her softest tears,
Ketires to see his captive Daughter,
To soothp her hopes and calm her feais.
** Oh! fear thee not beloved maid! *
Jn accents soft the Warrior said ;
** The heart that beats in Tadmor 's breast,
*' Ne'er harbour'd aught of ill towards th(!^
icrt
nL
IVIAII) OF ARABY. 19
** His soul's wild spirit is at rest,
** Since now his native land is free.
'* Thy Sire is fled ay fled afar,
* This land his footstep^ ne'er shall stain,
** And now the beam from freedom's star
" Shall shine o'er Iran's land again.
" To yonder Isle thy Sire is fled,
* There let him now in safety stay,
** Nor ever dare again to spread
" His warflags in our sunny ray.
** For thee, sweet maid! the evening breeze
" Shall waft thee to that lovely Isle,
** And when thy cruel Father sees
" Thy tender tear, thy sparkling smile,
** When safe within his sheltering arms,
** And far from all War's rude alarms,
** Tell him, Hhat though in Victory's hour ,
" A captive, in a Tartar's pow'r,
so JUID OF : ARABY.
* When conquest safely might have wrought
*' The vengeance that hk bosom sought, ^' '
*' Tell him, that that sante Tartar hand * < *
" That swept his Arabs from this land aiiiX '*
" Protected thee, nay more that tha'oir ));iA "
" The Daughter of his feUest foe,
" Tell him that Tadmor*s heart adores thee
*^ Forgive me maid I I ipfieant not sov-^^^-foffT *
" Tell him he loves thee, yet restores thee!-*-"
He ceas'd ^and Sara all amaz'd
In speechless wonder stood, and gaz*di
On the young Chief, whose manly form
Might well a maiden's bosom warm j
But oh! the tender words that hung
Halt' utter'd on his fault'ring tongue,
Those breathings of a soul sincere
That sink so deep intd the heart,
lit) hit I
MAID OF ARABY. 21
And hallow*d by th' empassion'd tear
To life its purest joys impart,
E*en now like sunbright glories burst
On Sara's heart,- as when at first
We waken from some dreary dream.
And wakenijag view the morning beam
In gorgeous splendor shine before us.
And feel his radiance flashing o'er us I
True was the Chieftain to his word,
And ere the golden orb of day
O'er Oman's sunny waters pour'd
The radiance of his parting ray,
A bark with costliest skill prepar'd
Stood ready to convey the maid.
And in it her own Arab guard.
All in their native arms array'd,
" Farewell," said Tadmor as he prest
Her hand unto his throbbing breast,
D
20, MAID OF ARABY*
** Farewell and may thy bosom never
" Confess the pangs that torture mine,
" Bat oh! may peace and joy for erer
" In sacred quiet reign in thine;
*^ Farewell! -no longer here remain,
** Farewell dear maid! we'll meet again!*'
The bark's unmoor* d the sail is h'ght.
The pennon's dancing in the breeze,
And Tadmor from the seabeach seei
His Sara wafted from his sight.
His Sara? ^yes, his own, his only.
Like the one stai-beam, bright and lonely.
That guides the midnight wanderer o*er
The waters, to his own lov*d shore,
Yci! Love his flowery wreath has twin'd
In splendor round her youthful mind:
Yes! all subduing Love, that rears
His throne of bliss, on smiles and tears.
MAID OF ARABY. 23
His chain around her heart has flung.
And Sara beautiful and young
Loves and is belov*d! oh! the bliss
Of Saints, were cold compared to thisj .
While listening to his sad farewell.
How deeply did her bosom swell !
How wildly heaved her throbbing breast !
How bum* d the teardrop in her eye!
AVhile thoughts that would not be repressM
Came rushing on her memory.
Haply she ne'er again might see
The eye that look*d so brightly then.
Haply she ne'er again might be
Near him, the best belov'd of znen.
Now landed on that verdant Isle,
Again she sees her own lov'd Sire,
But ah! how languid was the smile
That play*d upon her lip the while,
How pale the cheek how sunk the fire
24 JIAID OF ARABY*
That sparkled jn those once bright eye*,
While deeply heav'd convulsive sighs
In quick succession from her breast,
Now tell how ill her heart's at rest.
Oh! my lov'd child !*'-^Bel Hazot said,
" Nature ne*er form'd thy gentle heart
** For warfare rude, this silent shade
" Where peaceful sweets their joys impart
" Must sheltet thee, and here thine ear
*' Nor sound of foe or ^var shall hear;
" Here in this lone Tower thou shalt stay
" While vengeance lights me on my way
** To war again, and Persia's gem
" Shall glitter in my diadem. ?
*' Soon as my faithful friends send o'er
** Fresh succours from Arabia's shore,
" I'll forth again, again I'll try,
Whether this Chief of Tartary,
MAID OF ARABY. J85
'^ This rebel Chief will dare again
" To meet me on the battle plain.'*
But vain the thoi%ht, ^nor silent shade
Nor aught that peaceful scenes impart,
Can calni the bosom of the Maid,
Or tranquillize her beating heart.
Here in her lonely Bower she sits.
And gazes on the moon's pale ray, /^
And sighing as the nightbird flits
In silence o*er the watery way.
I^ike it, how happy! could she wing
Her joyful course o*er earth and sea,
0*er Ocean's bosom wandering.
With heart as light, and wing as free*
One thought alone her soul possesses,
And fondly does she prize that thought,
Ajid from her inmost bosom blesses
The form, th^t lov*d idea brought..
6 BIAID OF ARABY*
While weeping o'er her own sad woes
One cheering thought still buoyant rose.
And floated on her soul's dark stream ;
That He for whom each tear was shed.
Whose image form'd her nightly dream,
Far from her cruel Father spread
His banners bright in Freedom's beam ;
That after scenes of horror dire,
Where war had rag'd with vengeful ire,
'Mid bloodshed deep and masacre,
He liv'd tho' not alas! for her.
This thought alone her soul redeem*d
AVhen ev'ry other hope had fled.
And on her cheerless slumber shed
A ray of hope, tho' faint it beam'd.
But hist!-r-her casement upward springs.
And see where like some airy form
In Heav'u's own radiant essence warm,
She sit5, the list'ning night to charm ;-
MAID OF ARABY, ^
And now her snowy hand she flings
Across her silver lute and thus she smgs.-
Bright as the moonbeam
On the wave dancing, ^ji:,^.^^
Love! with thy soft train
Come to my bowerj
Sweet as the wild dream
Borrowed from Fancy,
Which thro' my sad brain
Darted its power;
Beaming with pleasure.
Open thy treasure.
To thee all the hopes of my heart I give o'er,
Oh! may no dark wile
Lurt in thy sweet smile.
Clouding the beams of that light I adore!
28 MAID OF ABAUr*
Sweet was the slumber
Sorrow beguiling,
Which with such witchery
Stole on my heart;
Joys without number.
Evermore smiling,
Still to my fond eye
Pleasures impart j
Vision of rapture !
Form'd but to capture
Bosoms that long in affliction have wept;
Oh! may thy sweet spell
Still to my heart tell
Love has not wander* d it only has slept.
On Sara's lips the words had died,
Yet echo o'er the slumbering tide
In melting cadence soft and sweet,
Did still the thrilling sounds repeat.
MAID OF ARABY. 29
'Tis hush'd ^what sigb now striked her ear?
It s\irely came from some one near ;
She looked and scarcely dar'd to breathe
While gazing on the rock beneath*
Where shrouded in his mantle's fold
A stranger stood, in silence stood.
Like the lone spirit of the ilood ;
His egret wing and star of gold
Proclaim him of the Persian race.
Wildly his dark blue eye he roll*d
And fix'd in now on Sara'5 face ;
That eye ^that glance-^there was but one.
Such piercing glance could dare to own ;
To her sad eye there was one only
Who thus could look so bright and lonely;
Oh ! it is he^ ^her heart's adorer,
Tadraor himself that stands before her!
80: *"' MAID eF AKABY.
Breathless, in mute astonisliment.
The Maid her eye on Tadmor bent,
" *Tis he**^ she wildly cried, and flun^
The diamond zone that round her clung
At Tadmor*s feet," Oh! if thou be "^^^^
** The Chief that lately set me free
** From death, nay worse from slavery,
** Oh! speak, in godlike mercy speak,
** Ere my lost heaft in madness break/'
** Yes, Sara I he who stands here nowV
" With aching heart and pallid brow,
" Is he, who lately from the shore
* Of Persia, sent thee safely o'er,
** Safe to tliy father's fost'ring arms,
" And far from War's, from Love's alarms;
* But need I tell the grief that dwelt
*' In Tadmor's heart, the pangs he felt,.
MAID OF ARABY. 31
" When from his ling'ring, aching eye,
** He saw thee wafted far away,
" With none to soothe the bursting sigh,
" None to watch o'er him as he lay
" Hears'd in the death of memory.**
-" Oh! Tadmor! need*st thou tell to me
" The pangs that rend thy glowing heart?
** Too well I know the agony
** That wrings the bosom when we part
** From those we Iove;-^ut whence or how
" Unaided didst thow gain the brow
** Of this rude eminence, whose frown
Terrific on the flood looks down,
" N^'er trod by mortal foot *till now?-*
** Or didst thow not my Tadmor, fear
" The deadly fbe that waits thee here?
*' My Sire thou know*st good Heav*n! but why
** Sparkles such fury in thine eye?
32 MAID OF ARABY.
" He sleeps secure nor things of ;th,ee, ^ f"jif?/
" Here thou art safe to Love and me." -
a Mm
" Sara, my best belov'd! I fear
" Nor foe, nor aught of danger here ;
'* *Twas J^ove, Love at this silent hour,
" That led me to thy lonely Bower^r - _
** And bless'd my heart, and cheer*4 Hiy eyjf,
*' With sight of thee before I daeiri I B^w eoT
" Here m this cold, this rocky bed,
*' For ever will I lay my head-> ntsdi mm!
" The Vultures hov'ring on their way*
** May stoop and fatteu on tl^eil: prey i
" They cannot injure Tadpior thefl,
-*^ Or call'^Hs spirit home again;
" Yet Sara! with my.^ying breath,
" Yet Sara! in the pangs of death,
* I'll think of tiiee, of thee for ever,
" 'Till heart and soul and all shall sever."
MAID OF ABABTi ^ M
He ceii^'^, and in jfeis d^k bivif eye, .j.jo^ *
A feverish, fire you might descry,
Which spoke his purpose fix'd, and high.
Vainly the Maiden strove to calm
His throbbing breast, his heart to cheer, / :>
Vai^y she pour'd the soothing balm
Of Love, upon his ever*d ear. ^,i^ ]^^/.^ ^^
He heard it not his heart was coldt. f>..f jf^|^ .
Its light, its life was facing then;
That form he should no more behold.
That eye he ne'er should meet agak<tt/Cf?}sU -
Wild and impassion'd was his glance
As fix*d upon the trembling M^id,
Who from a chilling, death-like tr^ice
** Tadmor farewell! we here must part,
** As tho' alas I we ne'er bad metj
si MAID OF ABABY.
" Soothe, dearest, soothe thy anguished heart,
* We'll meet, and oh! be happy yet.
*' And tho' upon my cheerless night
** No ray of Hope or Joy shall shine,
** Yet dreams of faded, lost delight
" Shall round me their enchantments twine,
** And cheer the withered heart that fate
" Hath left so lorn and desolate.
** But oh! the light more bright and clear,
** Thy Spirit's light shall still be near ;
* Deep in my sorrowed heart 'twill dwell,
" Like moonbeams in the maniac's cell ;
** And tho* adas! like them, it bring .
" Despair and madness on its wing,
** Yet oh! so dearly do I prize
** The light, from whence such feelings rise,
** That I would fondly hug the chain
" That phrenzy twin'd around my brain,
Maid of araby. 85
* And from the very depth of sadness,
** Fling o'er my brain sick heart again
** A gleam of rapture, no, of madness!**
Hours there are to memory dearer
Than the hopes of future bliss.
Thoughts there are to madness nearer
Than the maniac's wilderness'j
Tho* those hours be fled for ever,
And the hopes that made them dear,
Still the thoughts of madness never
Leave the brain's dark mansion here!
m 4 ' --'
A death-like stillness,~-mute suspense
Succeeded to the pangs intense
That wrung each beating heart ere-whilej
A loneliness of thought, so dread.
As if each kindred soul had fled.
To meet and bask in Heaven's smile.
36 UAW or* ARA6Y.
Still slept the tndort ort Oman's wave,
Still shone the softeyed Btr of Eren^ - gftfi"^
And many a sparkling gleam it gave
Fresh from the azure vault of Heaven.
Sudden a yell of des]per^6 imni ^"^ '^^''"
Burst on the awful stillness rotitid,
And issuing from the postern gate, 'tn*?f/0! .
A troop of Arab Warriors straight
On Tadmor rush*d,- and at their he^
With fauJchion glittering in his hand, dj htth
Bel Hazor came; diat Arab dreadii vLCJi.j d:ij in.:.
With arm 4loft, and naked brand,
Flew at young Tadmor's yellow breast;
And clove the egret on his crest.
His warblade quick the Warrior drew,
His mantle from his shoulders flung.
And rushing on the Arab crew.
Broke thro' the line that round him clung.
MAID OF ARABY, $7
But vairi the havoc of his sword,
Fresh hordes of Arabs round him pour'd.
And gathering in 4read array.
With horrid shouts prolong the fray.
One dreadful rush the Tartar made
Full at Bel Hazor's turban'd brow.
But all in vain, his faithless blade
Lies broken on the rock below,
4^nd bleeding, low on earth he lies.
To Freedom's cause a sacrifice.
Wild was the laugh of joy that broke
From stern Bel Hazor as he spoke;
" Wliere are thy Tartar warriors now?
" Where is the wreath that decked thy brow,
" Thou leader of a rebel band,
" That dared to raise thy hostile brand
" Against thy Prince m lawless strife?
" But now thy dark, rebellious life
** In misery prolong 'd shall endj
38 . MAID OF ARABY..
** Hence to a dungeon bear him straight,
'* With careful skill his body tend,
" I would not lose the vcngeajice fate
** So kind hath given, untill I bend
*' His haughty spirit to my will,
" And force that daring rebel still
" Trembling to crouch beneath ray sword*,
" And o^\^l me for his lawful Lord."
" Never ** th* undaunted Warrior crfed,
"While rush*d the red stream from his side ^
" Never shall Tadmor's towering soul
" Bend mito such dishonor foul,
" Nor shall his freeborn spirit yiekl
* Tq thee, or any Arab slave,
" ^Vllile earth or sea affords a grave;-
" Come meet me on the battle fields
*' 'Mid shouts of Death and Victory,
** Then see will Tadmor dare to fly,
** Tliou hoafy slave of Arabyl
MAID OF ARABY. 39
"=' Sooner the waves that lash this shore
** On Georgia's sunny coasts shall roar,
** Or o'er Circassians mountains roll,
** Than fear possess a Tartar's soul*
*' Oh! that I had one faithful spear
** To pierce thy coward bosom here;
** E'en now tho' desolate I stand,
" With fainting brow and broken brand,
<* Thy slaves around me, and the chill
** Of Death congealing ev'ry vein,
*' And withering my arid brain,
** Yet in the very pangs of death,
" Ere fate has snatch'd my parting breath,
" I tell thee I defy thee still."
** Off with the traitor '* ^and a troop
Of hardy Arabs quickly stoop.
And raise the Chief, whose hand alone
Now grasps his Sara's diamond zone,
40 MAID OF ARABY.
Whose fading, faintiug eye is bent
Still upon yonder battlement,
Where in her lonely chamber fair
She lately stood, she stands not therc,-^
l^ot there? oh! no, fqy pitying Heav'i^
A respite to her woes had giv'n,
Scarce on her ears the uproar fell.
Scarce utter'd was that deathful je\\
So wildly on her senses pealing,
When o*er her terror shaken frj^mQ
A death-like, chilling famtness cam?,
A sweet suspence of life and feeling,
And totteripg as her brain whii-Pd round.
She sank insensate on the ground.
There lay the Maidei^ r'till lier Sire
With looks of dread and words of ire
Awoke her fainting Soul, How now!
*< Whence comes this paleness on thy brow
MAID OF ARABY. 41
** Thou Arab Maid! when victory
** So often sought 'mid wars alanns
" Hath giv*n unto my longing arms
** My deadliest foe, why droops thine eye? -
** By holy Alla*s self I swear,
" I could for every rebel tear
' Thou sheddest for that Tartar slaV6
" Doom thee with pleasure to the grave,
" Nay worse to everlasting shame,
" Thou stain upon the Arab name!
*^ Thou thought's! I slept, He thought SO too,
" Oh! well that slumber he shall rue,
* And joy betide the happy hour
" That led him to thy silent Bower
" Alone, his love-sick tale to tell,
* And whisper out his soft farewell!
" But it is well, hence from my sight
" Perfidious Child! soon as the light
42 MAID OF AEAUY.
** Of morning dawns on Oman's sea,
** Thou shalt away to Arabyj
" There some new faithful friend discover,
** Or weep and wail thy absent Lover."
Oh! deadlier than the parching blast
Tliat from the dark Simoom hath past,
. And nipp*d the bud of Autumn*s flowV,
Was that hope-with*ring pang that cast
Its baleful influence in that hour
On Sara's heart, and all but gave
Her spirit to an early gravej
She did not weep she did not sigh,
Tho' shone the teardrop in her eye
It did not fall, but frozen there.
Told, sadly told her soul's despair.
A quick pulsation at her heart
Was all that could to sight impart
That yet she liv'd, she liv'd, but oh!
Tliat life was worse than death, 'twas wot,
MAID OF ABABY. 43
Bel Hazor's to his chamber gone,
And Sara's in her Bower alone ;
While Tadmor's to a dungeon borne,
"Wlience haply he shall ne*er return
Alive again; Oh! hapless Night!
Thou smiled'st too brightly on the sight;
Thou should*st have quench'd thy silver ray,
And flung thy starry Orbs away;
Thou should'st have looked with tearful eye?.
And giv'n to earth thy deepest sighs
Fresh from yon canopy above.
On this sad wreck of Liberty and LoYel
- f
^
%/\/%^'%/%'^k/*^t.
The moon has sunk dark lowering clouds
Are rolling o'er the arch of Heaven,
And sable darkness now enshrouds
Each orb that late was brightly given.
Oh! who that saw that lovely night
The splendor of that beauteous moon.
Could think its dawn of radiance bright;
Would set so sadly and so soon?
Dark rolls the wave of Oman's Sea
And wildly on the rock-beach dashes.
While bursts of thunder rapidly
Succeed the lightning's vivid flashes.
46 MAID OF ARABY.
Wild and convulsive was the roar
Of each contending element,
The rocks upon the Islet shore
By lightning's vivid bolts were rent;
Whose livid flashes far and wide
In sheeted gleams terrific shone.
Now glancing o'er the yawning tide.
Now quiv*ring on the darkWue stone
That lay along the Islet* side.
The flowrets that so lately smil'd
In blooming freshness o'er the plain
Of all their fragrant sweets despoiKd,
Are withered, ne'er to bloom again.
Thus fade the hopes that lingering twine
Around tlie heart in youth's blight hour.
They live but in the Summer's shine.
And wither in the Winter's shower !
MAW ^^ ARABY, 4f7
Tl^us fell the glorious hopes that led
The Tartar Chief to Sai-a's Bower,
That lur'd him for awhile then iled^
And left him in the Arab's power.
The morning's dawn had seen him leafi.
His Tartiar Warriors to the field.
Had seen him mount his battle steed.
And wave aloft his sable shield;
Now lone, and dark, and sad he lies.
Within a dungeon's gloomy cell.
Far from his gallant Warriors' eyes.
And far from her he lov'd too well.
Yet no, not far she still is near.
Too near alas! to him and Love,
In loneliness she pours the tear
Of sorrow, in her Bower above.
There sits the Maid and silent weeps,
*
While safe her cruel leather sleeps j
48 MAID o:f araby.
If sleep that restless slumber be
That closes up the guilty eye.
Whilst o'er the waste of memory,
Dark visions in succession fly;
Visions of horror and affright,
That haunt him thro' the livelong night
Telling his hardened bosom then.
It never can know peace again.
Oh! sooner shall the noonday light
Burst thro* the awful gloom of night
And chase each darkening cloud away,
Than e'er the guilty heart shall know
A respite from its dream of woe,
But feel it still by night and day.
But there is ope whose youthful breast
Hath never felt one guilty pang.
O'er whom the downy wings of rest
In sweet, oblivious slumber hang.
MAID OF ARABY.
4$
One who had oft in happier days, '^ * ^
When fortune smil-d, and Heav*n approved, '
Bask*d in the light of Glory^s blaze, oil
Beloving all, by all belqv'd.
Yet now upon a dungeon's floor
Imprisoned chainM, he sleeps secure, '^sfru.
And calm and tranquil too, as e'er '^ "^"'>fi /'
in brighter hours he slept before, '^^'' ^'^ ^'l^i^W
With bosom as devoid of fear, < fi'rischirt iHiW
But hark! his dungeon gate's unbarr'd, . _
What light now flashes on the walls
And now the Sentinel on guard
The watchword from some stranger calTs.
'Tis giv'n and all again is mute.
No sound is heard the guard is gone,
Still the light echo of his foot
Resounds along the steps of stone.
50 HAJD or AHABY.
The Stranger enterS'^and a chill
Dack jiiience hangs on all around.
He stops a moment, watchful still,
Then lays his lamp upon the ground;
And having gently clos'djiie door
Returns, and gazes on the iloot:,
Where sleeping lay the captive Chief;
Wrapped in his mantle's ample fold,
With turban'd brow, and moon of goUl,
He stood, and gaz*d with anxious eye
On the young Chief, wlio slumber'd nigh.
With heart that ne'er betray'd a sigh,
To shew he felt or fear or grief.
Some blisful vision haunts his dream,
He smiles, ^nd oh! that tranquil smile
Might rob e'en pleasure of its beam.
And sorrow of its care beguile.
MAID OF ARABTr 51
And still he dreams, and dreams of bliw,
Of pleasures fled of hopes to comej^
Oh! if there be this side the tomb
A joy on earth, *tis this 'tis this ;
When in the dream to slumber given.
We view the promised joys of Heaven!
One dear lov*d thought still haunts his mind,
One object in his heart enshrin'dj
One precious gem preserv*d with care
When ev*ry other hope had gone.
It lies like some lov*d relic there.
Adored by all ^but seen by nons.
" Sara, my best belov*d! I see
* The stars are shining bright for thee,
" Come dearest, haste and come to "me ^'
'Twas thus the sleeping Warrior sigh'd
The thoughts that fHl'd his laboring brawt,
Then sudden flung his chain aside.
And started from his blissful test.
5S MAID OF ARABY.
With haggard look and wond'ring eyes
He gaz*d around him with surprise,
'Till the dark strtfnger met his view,
* Who art thou? -speak, how cam'st thou here?
** Think'st thou that Tadmor^s soul can fear,
** Base coward slave he fears thee not? "
Tlxen as rememhrance flashed anew,
And reason o*er his mem*ry flew,
He cried again " here on this spot
" Tho* chain*d, unarmM, I still defy
* Thee, and thy slaves of Araby 1 ** "
Tlie Stranger paus'd-^and gaz'd around
On the damp floor, the Chief below.
Then flung his mantle on the ground,
^ And dash'd the turban from his brow,
** Hist Love/ 'tis I** and Sara stood
Before him, bright in sorrow's mood.
Bright as the davra of morning's beam.
The vision of Jus blissful dreamy
MAID OF ARABY, j^S
And to his gladden* d sight she seem'd
Like some bright Seraph from above,
Whose eye, tho* 4**i^^ith sorrow,beam'd
w
On him the tendehiess of Lov.
" Oh ! hast thou come this dreary night,
" Thy Tadmor's breaking heart to cheer,
" Wretched, too wretched from thy sigl^t,
** And happy only when thou'rt near?
'* Yet think not thou wert absent far
" From thy lov'd Tadmor's aching eye,
" No Sara! 'mid the rage of war
** Of grief, thou still wert ever nigh j
** Still to this throbbing bosom dear , ,,
** Tho' fate hath left me lonely herej
** Deep in this heart thine image lies
" Far from the view of human eyes,
" Far from the chilling blast of fate
* It reigns where all is desolate,
H
54 MAID OF AKABY.
" And I haVo dream'd oh! such a di<eiw.r
" So exquisitely sweet, it did but seenii^oa t*JuJ.
" Like the hjJf s^toien gUai^es giv'n /';:*? '^
" To Saints, upon tlie verge of Hav*n, ^ >
a
" But it is past, for ever past,
,:.. ::::/' . uiu-
" 'Twas too too blissful long to last."
" Nay Ttili6r^ease^'Tn''pity cease>
" I come t(5 give tliy bosom peace;
" To banish afi thy Gioi'y*s stains
" And frfee ilreeW(M ffi4* gamrig cliams
" With which a cruel parent's power
" Hath bound thee in unguarded hour^
** I come to rendier back to thee
" The gift thou lately gav'st to me,
" I come to give thee Liberty!**^^^^'^'^^ "i-' '
" What, Liberty! no it is o'er,.
" I ne*er shall know that blessing more;
3IA1D OF ARAlrr.
^
" No, never shall the stinily glow ' rf^t/T^^^-
- Of freeaatftMd^^o^ n^m^ '" ''^ ^'^ *
** Too well thy Father's soul I kno^r"^' ^^^"^ "
** Thou dost but mock me with the vairi
" Vain hopes I ne'er shall i^ef agairi. ^ "^ ' '^^
" l^ehold" she cried,, and stooping low
UnlocFd the chain that hung below,
** Thou*rt free, ^now hasten haste awaf,^ ' '
" Already see the dawn of day
" Is glimm'ring thro* yon casement grey.
*' Here, place this turban on thy brow,
*'' This mantle round thee, -quick, aha now
** Here take this ring of bloody hue,
^* 'Twill give thee passage safe and true
" Through aU the giiafcK Mat^tllou ^S'meet^
" From this unto the Castle gate;
** Once there, thou'rtr safe, then boldly leap
" Down from that^ higff and' roc^sreejT,-" '" "
56 MAID OF ARABY.
" Which thou so late in evil hoitr
'* Didst climb to reach my lonely bower ;
" There safely moor*d thy bark still lies,
" *Twill bear the^ swift across the sea,
** Far from Bel Razor's cruel eyes,
" And far alas! too far from me.
" Oh! Tadmor, canst thou Aoubt me still?
** No, by the cold, the freezing chill
" That falls upon my withered heart,
** I swear, we must for ever parti.
** Drear was the lonely hour I spent
" While musing on my soul's intent;
** On memory's waste I gaz'd in vain,
* No ray of hope did there remain j
** The visions which my fancy wild
** Had conjur'd there no longer smil'd;
** My Jieart was still,-* no longer there
** Beat the yn\d pulse untam'd by care.
MAID OF-ARABY. 57.
* A dreary^ desert now it seems,
" Where desolation's sickening dreams
" In woful mockery of tlie past,
" Alone their deadly influence cast.
" Thus lone and drear in the wide world,
** On fate's dark billows rudely hurl'd^
" Without a starbeam shining o*er me
" To shew the gulf that lay before me;
" The hopes for which alone, I fain
** Would wish to live, no more remain J
" My hopes, my joys, my prospects fled,
" My bosom cold, my feelings dead,
** Yet Tadraor in that dreary hour
" One darling thought its day-beam shed,
" To free thee from my Father's power,
" And liberate thy guiltless head
From slavery's soul-debasing chain;
" Scarce had it ^ash'd upon my braiii,
* When starting from ray sleepiest be<t
" With nois^jlees s(;ep I (jHiekly fte<l
" In silence down the corridoi\
** And reached w-y Fat^K?r' charaiber Hjoo^i
" WTiere cdm and traaquUIy he slieptjr^m..' i>ii
** In breathless eagerness X crept
** Close to hk 8ifb^'<-*nd.&ad^ too,
** This sigi^ from his finger drew,
** And from the helit tJiat round him clung
** Loosen*d^.kyto wliidihrhuag}
** Then fr<sa:tI?krgJtt^ tiiat near him lay
** In sluraboi-s wcapt, I snatched aivay
" This lamp the^ hrfghtly hiir^M teforo hlnij
<* This tit|:i)aBjgidi^a rowtle o*er him,
** Then h^iy my way I took,
" Scarce daring e*en to'breaithe op Io(*,
" Dcsc^ndoct to the hall below,
** Tlierc plu<}?dfthe tuibaa <>u my^m\r, ^
MAID OF ARABY. S9
" This mantk round me qiiickly threw,
" Then down the narrow passage flew "^^^
** That led me to thy dungeon door,
" The guards I met the signet knew
** And gave m enti'ance safe and sure;
" Thou know'st the rest now haste away,
" And In thy plaee I here will stay,
" And weep and pray For thee each hotif,
it j'piji f^Y beyond my Pather^s po^^er
" Tliou*st rejh'd thy native shore agattn',
" Then dearest, best beIov*^d of ftn^nl
" Haply thou*lt shed a tear for me
"When far, far distant we shall be! **-
In wonder mute the Warrior stood,
While sorrow's tears In briny flood
Ran down young Sara's pallid face,-
And hung on every dimpled grace
Like rain-drops on the Almond flower
When water'd by the Summer shower,
60 MAID OF ARABY.
** What! *' cried the noble hearted Chief,
** What Sara! shall I basely fly
" And leave Jthee here dissolved in grief,-
" Beneath thy Father's curse to die?
** Oh! think'st thou I would meanly sav^
* My life at the expense of thine?
** No, sooner shall the welcome grave
" Its arms for ever round me twine.
* No, sooner will I perish here
" Than ever cause one anguish'd tear
** To dim the lustre of that eye ;
** No Sara! rather let me die, *-"
** Than basely cast upon my name
** Such foul dishonor, and such shame.
" Or think'st thou that thy haughty Sire
" Would fail to pour upon thy head,
** The meed of vengeance and of ire
** He feels towards me if now I fled? '*
MAID OF ARA?Y. 61
<* No Tadmor, tho' enrag'd with thee
** Still is he gentle,^ ^kind to me;
** Thou kttow'st him not--tho' fierce and wild
" To others, yet he loves his child,
* And would not fling a curse on mt
" To b^ the Lord of earth and sea.
" Then for thy Sara fear no more,
* But haste, and fly from hence before
" He waken, else thy fate is o'er j
" For sure as e'er the orb of day
" That now flings forth his orient ray
" Goes to his ev'ning grave at night,
" So sure thoult never feel its light
" To-morrow dawn upon thy sight,
" If here a moment more thou stay;
" Now haste, in pity haste away,
" Much more I could, but dare not tell,
** Already see, the morning ray,
" One kiss now dearest, and Farewell! **-r
62 MAlb OF ARABY.
Cold and unfeeling were the heart
To which that Maid's impassion'd kis5
Could fail a transport to impart, "
A dawn of that enraptur'd bliss
To some few happy mortals giv**!!.
As foretaste of the joys of Heav*h. '
He felt it all a burning thrill
Of rapture, quelPd the icy chill
That desolation laMy spread ' '
On his despairing heart, and shea
Its baleful influence in,that hour.
When Love, unwarm*d by feeling's power
Grew cold beneath its chilling shower.
Now rapture darted from his eye.
Now pleasure thrilled in ev'ry sighj
And like the semblance of the past
That lingering hangs on memory's waste,
Sweet hope that late so faintly beam'd
Now pictur*d joys that brighter seem'd
TT
MAID OF ARABY, - 63
Than e'er before to his fond eye,
Since first he heard his Sara's sigh.
While gazing on the bhishing Maid,
In accents wild, ^he wildly said
** No, blasted be that glorious light
** For ever in the gloom of night,
** And sunk the life-pulse of my heart,
" If Tadmof ever from thee part;
^* In joy, or sorrow, still to cheer thee,
" In life and death, for ever near theej
* And if it be my doom to die,
** Death \yiU be sweet, if thou art nigh ;
** Or if it be my fate to live,
** 'Tis thou alone that life canst give;
** For oh I thei*e*s in thy lucid eye
" Such melting love, such bliss about thee,
" That 'twould be happier far to die,
^* To die at once than live without thee! ^
6^ MAID or AEAit.
" But Hark! what SoftM waS iliat?a^iin-
It issues froto the Kail abo ve, ^^ ^^''^
*^ It seems the clashing noise of men
" Contending there, nay, fear not Love!
* Here thou art safe from all alarms,
" Safe in thy own lov*d Tadmor's arms.*^
"Oh! Tadmor, 'tis for thee I fear,
" Hist! *tis my Father's voice I hearj
** He comes to wreak on Inee alid me,
*^ The full meed of his cruelty;
** He comes our breaking hearts to sever,
** Now we inust part and part for ever!"
Scarce utter*d were these deathful words.
When the wild uproar wilder grew.
And shrieks of men, and clash of swords.
With war-shouts from the Arab crew,
And cries of " VictoryV' from some
Resounded thro* each pillar'd dome.
MAID OF ARABY.
*Twas dreadful ure the fainting maid
Her head on Tadmor's shoulder laid;
In all the anguish of despair,
Still her last hope was centfer*d there;
A senseless statue there she seem'd.
In whose fixed eye no glances beam'd.
No ardent glow no throb of feeling
Its life-pulse o*er her features stealing.
The Warrior paus'd with anxious eye
Gaz'd on the maiden silently.
Then lingering stood the sounds to hdar
That fell upon his fever'd ear,
'Till as the gathering tumult grew
Near and more near, the shouts he knew
Of his own gallant Tartar men.
Like Lions in the Tiger's den,
Madden*d, and raging for their prey.
Sweeping each Arab slave away.
6i5
MAID OF ARABY,
Hunting eagh dungeon furiously
To find their gallant Chieftain out.
While 'mid each cry of " Victory **
** Tadmor** still *' Tadmor" ^^vas their shout.
He heard the cry, and suddenly
Led by his watch-lamp's glimmering light,
A troop of Tartars furiously
Burst forward on his wondering sight;-'^*-'
** Oh! my brave Chief!" the foremost cried,
** Dost thou then live? -then all is won,
" Behold thy Warriors by thy side,
* Come once again and iead us on ;
" By Heav*n! we swear we will not rest
** Our swords but in an Arab's breast,
** Nor cease while of that cursed race
*' On Iran's land remains a trace.
* And in his den of treachery,
** Ev*n here their dastard Chief shall die.
MAIB OF ARABY. ^7
" Now take my Prince, tliis sword and shield,
Well dost tliou know those arms to wi^ldj
" Bel K^zor lives *till he is gone
Our glorious task is half undone I"
" Yes, my brave friends! " the Chief replied,
" Again I'll combat by thy side,
" To crush this Arab in his den,
" And wave our freeborn flag again
" O'er hill and dale, and Isle and sea;
" Now follow Warriors, follow me /
" To death, or else to Victory.**
So said the Chief, and forward sprung,
'Till Sara on his shoulder clung,
* Oh! Tadmor, spate my Sire," she said,
" Have pity on his aged head,
" He did not mean to injure thee,
" He did not touch thy precious life,
** If not for him, at least for me
" Oh! spare him in this deathful strife,
98 MAI OF ARA^Y.
** Aud thy own Sara on her knee
* Eacii jday, each hour^ will pray for thee.*
* No Sara! now thou pray'st in vain,
" Now I am Glory's slave again;
** Nay, hol4 ie ^<)t, ^by He^'n I swear
* I will not now ^e Ara^) spare,,
" Nor leave within this cursed tower
" One slave to tell the noonday hour,
* Off with thy hands thy pray'rs are vain,
** Now vengeance I am tliipe again."-
Then springing forward, backward flung
The fainting Maid who round him clung.
And as he vanished ii*Qm Iter eye
* Vengeance and Iran" was his cry.
The Tartars followed with their Chief
Unmindful of the ipaiden's grief,
And rushing up the steps of stone
There left the Arab maid alone.
MAID OF ARABY. 69
Alone she lay lone ev'n in thought,
Like the lost wretch to madness brought;
Her hopes were o*er her joys were gone,
Nor found her aching mem*ry One,
One sunny spot to rest upon.
*Twas a wild waste ^where Heav*n*8 beam
Had ceas'd to shed one living gleam,
A sunless desert lone and bare.
Nor sense, nor feeling, linger 'd there;
Where ev*n the light that reason gave
Was quench'd in desolation's grave;
And Love, and Hope, and Fancy's bloom
Were wither*d on the mental tomb.
Oh ! that a heart so pure, so light.
Should ever feel such chilling blight,
That heart which beat to fancy's thrill.
So wild, so exquisite, is still;
Cold as the icedrop that congeals
The withered flow'r on which it steals.
Ttr Maid oj* ARABY.
Yet mid this wi'eck of Hope and love,
Still rag*d the deathful strife above,
Tlie clash of svvord and fainting cty
Of wretches just before they die;
Mingled with shouts of "Victory,"
And cries for mercy too from some.
Resound* through ev'ry hall and dome.
The Arab Chieftain 'mid the fray.
Still kept his Tartar foes at hay,
'Till Tadmor through the struggling crew
Rush'd forward on his wond'ring view.
Then sunk the Spirit sunk the eye
That lately glar'd so furiously,
And backward shrinking from ilie fight
Would faui escape his foe by flight.
But vain the thought the Tartar ilie
With fury raging in his eyes,
On the dark Chief, who boldly turm'ng
While vengeance in his bosom's burning,
MAID OF ARABY*
Strikes at the Tartar Chief a blow
That dash*d the turban from his brow j
He stagger'd back a moment, then
Rush*d on Bel Hazor iierce again,
And severed with his trusty brand
The broadsword in the Arab's hand.
Now Arab! prove thy prowess true.
Or else the struggle thou shall rue^
Firm is his heart, and bold his brow.
And strong the arm that grasps thee now;
One struggle and his fate is o'er,
Prostrate he lies upon the floor,
And Tadmor standing o'er him, cries
While vengeance lightens in his eyes,
" Now, Arab, now thy doom is come,
** Now thou shall hasten to the tomb,
** Which late thou didst prepare for me,
^* Thus reap the fruits of treachery.*'
7S MAID OF ARABY.
Already had the Chieftain flung
The golden belt that round him clung,
Already was the sword uprais'd
While mute around the Warriors gaz*d,
A moment more, Bel Razor's life
Had paid the forfeit of the strife,
' When with a wild, heartpiercing shriek,
Deep, desperate, as from maniacs break,
When fancy places in their cell
The form of one belov'd too well.
Young Sara darted in, and fell
At Tadmor's feet, there pale she lay
In the low state of life's decay.
As if hef Spirit's self had fled;
* Oh! spare my Sire" 'twas all she said,
And clinging to the Warrior's knee
In all the* excess of agony,
pix'd on his eye her ghastly stare.
To see if mercy linger'd there 1
MAID OF ARABY. 73
Oh ! not a moment conld he brook
That suppliant's agonizing look,
But raising up the fainting Maid
* Sara, thy Father lives" ^he said,
* The battle's won Vengeance is o'er,
'* He lives though Justice may deplore
" And mourn the boon that Mercy gives,
" Yet Sara, for thy sake he lives.
" Oh! if his stubborn heart this hour *^'^'1^ '*
** Be open to affection's power,
** He'll feel how vain 'tis to withstand
" The prowess of* the Patriot hand,
" That's rais'd to guard his native land.
'* For in that deed each tender tie
" That binds the human heart doth lie,
*' Friends, home, and Country, all combin'd,
*' All form'd to urge the noble mind
* By ev'ry hope to Nature dear,
" Through life its sunbxight course to steer,
7(4 MAID OF ARABY.
" And Heav'n itself will ever smile
" Benignant on the Patriot's toil,
< A,nd dear to AUa's self is he
" That bleeds and dies for Liberty.
Now Arab! thou art free again,
" Go, with thy few remaining mei^
<* Return unto thy native land,
" There spend the remnant of thy days,
** Nor ever dare again to raise
" 'Gainst Iran's sons a hostile br^d.
" Barks thou shalt have to bear thee o'er
" To Araby's sweet sunny sliore,
** There bid thy brawling spirit cease,
* And cultivate the arts of peace j
* Twice have I conquer'd thee in strife,
" Twice have I spar'd thy forfeit life,
* But should*st thou Arab! ever dare
* To tread our land with steps impure,
MAli) OF ARABY. 75
"^* Now by this bloodstain'd sword I swear,
Thy life shall be the forfeiture!*'
By overwhelming wrath o*erbome
Answer'd the Chief--" thy threats I scorn,
" Soon will ray Chiefs from Araby
" Spread their red-flags o'er Oman's Sea,
" And d^ve thee boaster and thy men
" Back to thy mountain holds again."
" Unnurtured Arab! " Tadmor said
" Here, kneel before this weeping maid,
(" Unworthy as thou art, to be
" The Parent of such excellence,)
" Here turn and bend thy recreant knee,
" And thank thy fair deliv'rer, since
" To her alone thou ow'st thy life;
" Oh! never more may lawless strif^
** Disturb the quiet of that breast
" Where Virtue's brightest feelings resti
76 Maid oP arabt.
Then in ?i low heart-melting tone,
** Oh! Sara, 'tis for thee alone,
* For thee dear mistress of my lieart,
* My bosom bleeds, ^we now must part.-
** Far from thy Tadmor thou must be,
** And he for ever lost to the^.**
He paus'd ^heart-rending thoughts o*erbore
His feelings, and he could no more,
But gazing mutely round on all,
Tum*d si^h*d and left the Tower hall.
Some feelings haunt the mouldering heart.
Though life itself is fast decaying;
In joy, or grief, they i^ever part,
Still smiling bright, and still betraying.
Oh! is it this that Sara feels,
Although her heart is madly breaking:
That o'er her now in silence steals.
And calms her bosom*s deadly aching?
MAli) DF ARABY. 7t
Too sure some secret heav*nly powet*
Upholds her now when love is shaded,
And soothes her spirit in this hour
When all her hopes of bliss are faded.
Love, hope^ and joy, and fancy's glo#
Quench'd in the chill of desolatioii.
Still her young heart though faint and low,
ThrilPd to her feelings* agitation. "^
A Parent saved, though dark, severe.
The pangs of filial love are ovet,
And hope is smiling through each tear
That falls for her unhappy Lover.
The early blush of dawning day
Had scarcely ting*d yon mountains grey,
When Tadmor's gallant Warriors gave
Their bounding barks to Oman's wave.
They saw their Chief the night before
'Steer his light bark from Persia's shore ^
7^ MAID OF ARABY.
And anxiously all night they stood
Gazing upoii the Green Sea flood,
But all in vain they watch, and stand,
His bark returned not to land.
By various doubts and fears opprest^
They could not calm their thoughts to rest,
And e'en before the morning's smile
Could guide them to this lonely Isle,
They launched their boats on Oman's sea,
Hesolved th^ir gallant Chief to free
Befo'rfe the close of morning's hour.
If in the cruel Arab's power.
Thus led by fate, tkey boldly breast
The rockway path, with vengeance wann,
Whilst all above in safety rest
Unconscious of th' approaching storm.
But what a deep, terrific shock
Fell on each heart, as lone they stand,
MAID OF ARABY/ 79"
When low upon the naked rock
They find their Chieftain's broken brand 1
Then desperate was the horror cry
That o'er the sea-beach wildly rung,
'* We'll free our noble Chief, or die."
And to th' unguarded walls they sprung j
And quickly gain'd the inner yard.
Where calmly slept the Arab guard,
And rushing onward furiously ^ o.icVlC
Soon set their gallant Chieftain free,
i-* .. - -
The day was almost spent, before
Had ceas'd that tumult's madd'ning roar.
And now all's calm and still again j . ,. , .
Bel Hazor and his Arab men
Are waiting 'till the morning's spring
The promis'd Tartar boats shall bring.
To bear them over Oman's Sea,
To the sweet shore of Araby.
80^ MAID OF ARABY.
Aiid Sara wrapt in sorrow deep.
Sits iiit h^ IfW^^ly bower to weep^
While Tadmor still with cares opprest
Flings on a coiich his, limbs to rest j
But vain Uie effort to restrain
The fQW of his troubled brain y
There images of horror come.
Like spectres fliMiog o'er the tomb
Of some forgotten passenger.
Whose bones lie dark and mould 'ring there.
His guards are pacing round the walls.
Watching the moon-beam as it falls
On the calm sea- wave beauteously;
^While not a sigh from sea or shore
Is breathing one dark murmur o'er
This lovely Isle of Oman's Sea.
On the Green Sea wave the sun-b earns lie.
And brilliant and bright eajch beam appe^s.
Like the first love glance of the youthful eye
Ere dimm'd by the stain of sorrow's tears*
The beauteous clouds, like the Isles of gold
That hang o*er the vales of Perlstaii,^
Their sun-bright forms to the eye unfold
As they float o'er the bowers of Suristan.'
The young gazelles from their leafy beds
Are bounding wild down the mountains* side,
Or darting o'er th' enamell'd meads
To cool their feet in the Summer tide > .
While the morning breezes light and free.
From the flow'rs that bloom on the banks of Hij*,^
Are wafting across the sun-bright sea
The fragrant sweets from the Land of Myrrh.^
, I Provinces of Persia, 2 Hir, 8 river in Pcrsiai 3 Sak*-
82 MAID OF ARABY.
The dark war-clouds that so lately hung^
Over Persia's land are fled afar,
And Peace her pinions wide has flung
From the Caspian Sea to Candahar.*
Oh! sweet are the sounds at morning's hour
That fall on the ear in that lovely lanjd.
And sweet are the songs from each rosy bower,
And precious the thoughts those sounds command.
Soon as the dawn of morning's planet
Has burst on the lily's golden flowers.
The Bulbul leaves the tall pomegranate
To sing in his own sweet rosy bowers.
While the beautiful Sultanas wing
Their airy course from tree to tree,
Now from the tamarinds they spring
To beds of sweet aiiemone;
Where the jasmine beauteously entwines
Its wreaths around th* acacia bowers,
1 A Province and City f Persia on the river Hit.
J^IAID OF ARABY. 8S
And tliere the Camalata shines.
All lovely with its rosy flowers.
Bright are the gems on the Green Sea shore,
And brilliant they shine in the morning's ray,
When the Summer sun-beam's shining o*er
Its waters, rich in the blaze of day.
And sweet are the fragrant zephyrs then
That fan the air by land and sea,
As they breathe o'er the vales of Sigistans
Their hoards of sweets from Araby.
Yet brighter far are the sparkling eyes
That shine in Persia's land of love,
And sweeter far are the balmy sighs
That waft their prayers to Heav'n above.
Their lovely tresses dark and bright, # ^
Shine like the raven's glossy wing,
Their guiltless hearts as free and light,
And careless aj the rose of spring.
2 A PrcTlnce tnd City of Persia on the Hintlnien^,
^4* MAID Ol^ ARABY.
Oh! happy land! where mutual blUs
Entwines each heart in lasting ties,
And all the links of happiness
Unite in one that never dies.
Diffusing sweets, the western breeze
Sighs softly through the Amra tree>
That line yon lonely Islet's sidi6;
And roving over beds of roses.
Where still the morning dew repots.
Sweeps lightly o'er the summer tide.
The morning beam rose fair and sheet!
On hill and vale, and wooded green;
And many a heart with hope elate,
Superior to the frowns of fate,
Edfcatic thr^bb'd with liveli^l" thrill,
^s rose that beam on dale and hill ;
Yet there are hearts ev*n at that hoiqr
That oft confessed its magic power,
MAID OF ARABY. 85
And joyM its beauties to behqldj
Yet now so motionless and cold.
So shrouded in their souls' despair.
They cannot find a pleasure there.
Scarce dawn*d the morning beam, when rose
The Tartar Chieftain from repose.
With hurried-step and fever'd eye
He pac'd the rock-path wistfully.
And anxious gaz'd upon the Sea
And the white shores of Araby,
To which his Sara soon must go f'v
And leave him hears' d in ceaseless woe.
Oh! lasting grief, when fate hath left
The heart of ev'ry hope bereft,
When on the waste of memory
No verdant spot is seen to lie, W'^nok
No sunny beam the breast to cheer
Or chase reflection's ^add'niag teav ; .
M
mB MAm OF ARABY.
Lom as the flower that's seent to w^ve
At night, </er some forgotten gravel
But hark! what wild melodious Fay
Now strikes upon his startled ear.
In melting sounds it dies away
Yet echo softly brings it near?-
Oh! such a strain, ai oft at highfc
Is wafted on tho sitent air.
From some inliabitant of light
Breathing its heavenly music th^re! . _'
Such was the soul-entrancing strain oT
That from yon casement breatb'd again v
Awhile its lingering somrds delay'd^ig voij?:.: ; - )
EnamourM'of the calm they mailer,
Till all at once they ceas'd, and then
A voice prolonged the heav*nly strain;
In words that wild, yet sweetly rung^
'Twas thus the Seraph minsti,^ sung.
Thee had I never seen
Or never parted,
^en had I never been
Thus broken-hearted.
Time may obliterate.
Sorrows may sever,
But the deep stro^ke of fate
iingers for ever.
Still Love! I fain would be
To thee the nearest,
Never to part from thee
Bravest and dearest!
But the dark voice of fate
Bids us to sever,
Never again to meet.
Never, Oh! never.
88 MAID OF ARABY.
Far, far from thy bosom
1*11 shortly be borne,
Like the Nilica's blossom ,
In absence to mourn j
The heart that adores thee
Is cold and for ever,
The hope that restores thee
Withered for ever.
Oh! Love, when some fond one
With joy shall caress thee.
Think, think of the lost one
Whose spirit shall bless thee;
E'en still will she cherish
Thine image for ever,
'Till life itself perish
l^yeT, oh! ever.
MAID OF ABAByI $
Farewell to die minute
Of bliss I've had of thee,
Thougli rapture was m it
It smiPd but to mock me;
tarewejl to thy fond heart,
Farewell and for ever.
Yet will we meet and part
Never, oh I nevei^. i
There is a spell in music's tone
Congenial to itself alone.
That twines its magic wreath aroUncl
The heart that listens to its sound.
When through the dreary waste of life
We toil through sorrow, care, and strife.
One sweep of heav'nly music's thrill
Bids the wild storms of life be still.
And calms with most enchanting skill
Tlie wayward passions at its Will \
50 MAID OF ABABY*
For oh ! there's not an earthly pain
That is not sooth'd by music's strain*
And in each cahnev brighter scene.
Ere Hfe*s contentions intervene,
When all beneath, around, abovei^
Breathes the soft harmony of love.
And joy is dancing in each beam
That sparkles on the chequered strean.
Oh! then one thrill from music's lyre
Kindles new transports of desire,
Jlnd raises the enraptured Spirit
To all the joysr 'twould fain inheritl
Such was the magic of that lay
That stole on Tadmor's heart the while,
X^hasing each darker thought away,
And brightening, (like the sunny smile
That Autumn sheds on mountain snow,)
His bosom's dreary waste of woe.
MAID OF ARABY. 91
Awhile Tie stood, enwrapt, amaz*d,
And OQ the casement fondly gaz-d.
Listening would she it must be she.
Again renew her minstrelsy,
H^py to gain a glimpse of her.
His spirit's earthly worshipper*
But no, she's gone she could not dare
To meet his hopeless eyebeam there.
Enough ^they were for ever parted.
For ever wretched ^brokenhearted.
Then why renew since lost for ever
Hopes that can blossom never never ?-^
** It is the last the last tune e'er
* That voice that music I shall hear."
*Twas a heart-rending thought, ^and he
That loved so fond so doatingly.
Felt but too well the sick'ning blast
5fhat on his acliing heart it cast*
9S MAID OF ABABY*
Awhile he stood, and mournfully
Gaz'd on the sea bird vi^ild and free.
Flitting across the sunbright sea
Far to the shores of Araby.
And as he gaz*d with fevered eye
On the calm wave and azure sky.
He felt there was a time, when he
With Care untroubl'd heart coufd view
That summer Heav'n's delicious blue.
Ere love had dar*d to interpose,
Changing his joys to lasting woes.
He could no more the thought abide.
But turning from the peaceful tide
Rush'd wiklly down the rude rock side,
Tar, far from all his griefs to hide.
J5ut see, the blush of dawning day
Is yielding to its brighter rayj
MAID OF ARABY. 9^
if jr^f,-*-
And streams of radiance still more b'nght
Illume each vale and mountain height.
The summer Heav'n's delightful hue
Is pictured in the waters blue, : -f ,
Whose waves amid the stillness roar ,:: i;^ F ' !:
With ceaseless echo on the shorej 1 ^* - - ^1:*\
Whilst on its breast the west-wind lies, ' ,,,;%.
And breathes its soft ambrosial sighs,
Perfum*d with sweets from orange flowers.
And frankincense from Saba's bower* j
So still the air ^the wild bird's shriek v , ^
Too rudely seem'd the calm to break,
As o'er the beach he lightly sped.
And to the gale his pinions spread. .* 1
*Twas all tranquillity around
And not a breath, and not a sound
Of warfare rude or toil severe
Disturb'd the silent list'ner's ear.
94 >tAID OF ARABV#
The Arab Chief has ris'n from rest
Still with perplexing thoughts opprest;
While from her sleepless couch, his child
All beauteous, amiable, and mild,
Had started at the dawning hour^
And in hei* own deserted bower
Sat, gazing on the Green-sea wavej
How happy! had it provM her grave
When first from her beloved shore
Her cruel Sire had brought her o'er,
And flung upon her innocent heart
Eternal anguish, gnef, and shame.
Stains, that thfougii life will ne'er depart,^
But still for ever brand hi^s name.
But see, afar! what flags are these
That gaily flutter in the bueeze?
What barks that with such furious haste
Are bounding o'er the watery waste,
MAID OF ARABY. 95
And guided by the morning's smile
Steer full upon the lonely Isle?
Not these the barks fVom Persia's shore
To bear the Arab Warriors o'er,
Wliich Tadmor bade should ready be
To waft them hence to Araby;
Oh! no, those blood-red flags I ween,
That yet afar, are plainly seen,
Waving like flowrets o*er a tomb.
Proclaim too well from whence they come.
Arm, Tartars, arm, the foe is near,
I ' Uird on the sword, and seize the spear.
Now toss aloft your banners brave,
The foe is coming o'er the wave j
Never hath fierce Arabia sent
So terrible an armament.
As now, with desperate speed the while
Is bearing on your lonely Isle.
96 MAID OF ARABY.
Wide o'er the Green Sea wave they spread
Their blazing banners bloody red.
And favour *j(|b^tli by wind ^^ ti4<?
Soon reach the lonely Islet's side j
Scarce half a league from that lone tower
Where lay the Tartar Warrior's pow^r.
They land, and on the Islet crags
Fling loose their eagle crested flags.
In order wild, a co\intless throng.
They line the I^let shore a!on|;s_,^^.^^ ,
Their turbans dancing in the beam
pke foam upon the Ocean stream;
Their banners floating in the wind.
Their steeds light bounding from behind;
Their scimitars engraven o'er
With holy texts, I and human gore.
They braqdish high in air, to show
How much they long to meet the foe.
1 It was usual with die Arabs to have soma verse from tbe
KoriuD inscribed on tlte blades of their scimitars.
MAID OF ARABY. 97
What uproar's now in yonder tower?
It issues from the Tartar power;
Now from its walls they rush amaia
And muster on the open plain ;
Though lone and few, a braver band
Ne'er hurPd a spear, nor grasp'd a brand;
A gleam of more than mortal fire
Seem'd dancing In each Warrior's eye,
Forward they sprung with looks of ire
To meet the foe approaching nigh.
Wild in the morning's dazzling light
Their waving plumes shone fair and bright
Above their turbans' snowy hue.
And flaunted gaily as they flew.
But where was he whose banner cry
So oft was wont on battle plain.
To lead them on to victory,
Through seas of blood, and piles of slain?
98 MAID OF ARABY.
The rapid lightning of whose eye
To ev'ry foe was destiny,
The foremost in the battle's tide,
Dispensing death on ev*ry side.
In vain they cast their anxious eyes
On all around, he stands not there,
And sorrow mingled with surprise
Is lurking in their lurid stare.
Between them and the Arab foe
There lay a deep ravine below,
Through which, so narrow was the glen
That fifty chosen warrior men
Could guard the passage 'gainst a'host.
And make invaders rue their boast,
Thither the Tartar waniors speed,
Nor in their eager fury heed
The Arab Chieftain and his power
Still prisoners in the lonely tower.
MAID OF ARABY. 99
I^ike bloodhounds searching for their prey
They rush along the rocky way.
And reach the entrance of the glen,
Where mustering all their gallant men
In fearless confidence they stand
To guard their homes and native land.
HMJ : K ><?,tlMj
A shout across the valley rung.
Another still more dread, and then
Bursting with fuFy through the glen.
Like Tigers from their thickets sprung,
Wild pealing that terrific yell,
That horrid banner cry of Hell
Which cursed spiirits know so well.
Right onward did' Arabia come;
Then was the strife of war, the first
That through the narrow valley burst,
And hoped to gain th* opposing side.
Beneath the Tartar deathstrokes died
And met an early tomb!
100 MAID OF ARAHY.
Wild was the uproar reign'd around,
Dread carnage strewed the crimson ground,
And horror dwelt in ev'ry sound j
While fury lighten'd in each eye,
And madness rang in ev'ry try
Of Vengean^'' " Iran"" Victory,"
That burst from all around.
On either side nought to he seen
But countless turbans on the gr6en,
Dead wretches weltering in their gore
That ne'er shall stand in battle more;
And some, who staggering *mid the brawl
Drag others with them in their fall,
And tumbling in their hour of pride
Fall down the precipice's side.
Long dubious was th' eventful strife
On either part, for death or life
Lay struggling on the dreadful cast,
MAID OF ARABY. lOJ
When from the Tartar warriors* si3e
A bugle rung, whose thrilling blast
Like lightning o*er the Summer tide
Burst on each heart, and far and wide
A shout of joyful welcome rung
From yonder band upon the height.
When rushing bold in valor's might.
Beaming in freedom's glonous light.
Young Tadmor forward sprung,-'-^
And waving high his battle blade
** On, on to Victory" he said,
* Remember warriors, that we fight
* For God, for Iran, and our right,r
" Now Heav'n protect the just," and then
With certainty of conquest flush'd.
Full on the terror-struck foe he rush'd,
And followed by his Tartar men
Soon swept the recreants through the glen. t
Q
102 MAID OF ARABY*
Across the desolate valley wide
In torrents flowed the crimson tide,
While shrieks and cries terrific, fell
From all around, more horrible
Thari ever burst on mortal ear,
As some in moahings lone and drear
Bewail their sad and hapless state.
And yield their spirits up to fate ;
Whilst others with convulsive cry
Brandish their swords brfore they die.
And gasping with resentful ire,
'^Alid shrieks and imprecations dire,
And groans and curses dread expir^;
Still foremost in the van of battle
'Mid swords that clash, and arms that rattle.
The gallant Tartar warrior shone;
Afar the noble Chief was known
f
MAID OF ARABY. 1Q3
By height superior to the rest.
His belt of gold, his yellow vest, - ? I "
And waving of his heron crest. t . jr "
But oh! the lightning of that eye r^siik-
That flash*d around so awfully,
Like, fiery meteors from on high i il'^^^'x^mi*^
Struck terrors into ev'ry breast. ' .1 vriiu
No longer able to withstand
The prowess of that warrior's hand, 'l ^EjjxiX
The Arabs in confusion fly;
Then desperate was the slaughter dread,
On ev*ry side lay piles of dead,
While many 'neath the victors* tread
-".-Ink
Trampled to atoms lie.
Then was the hour of victory
To Tadmor, and to Liberty,
When suddenly a fearful shout
Of most portentous birth, throughout
1 " The Chiefs of the Uzbek Tartars wear a plume of white
heron's feathers in their turbans."
See Account of Independant Tartars.
164 MAID or ARABY.
The ranks of flying Arabs burst;
*Twas answer'd by another cry,
More desperate than that yell accurst
That echoed to the vaulted sky, j
And struck ev*n Seraphs' hearts with dread.
When all HelPs denizens took flight
With haughty Eblis^ at their head.
And borne upon the whirlwind's blast
Their flaming firebrands upwards cast
At Heav'n's imperial height. v
'Twas from the brow of yonder hill
Echoed that battle cry so shrill.
And rushing do^vn its rugged side
Like Egypt's lunar mountain tide,"
A band of furious Arabs came
Breathing dire vengeance round, ^the same
Tliat late in yonder lonely tower
Lay captives to thcTartar's power;
1 Ludfer, so called in the East. 2 The montes lunjc of antiijmty,
at the foot ef which the Nile is supposed to arise.
IVIAID OF aRABV. 105
And at their head with sword uprais*d.
And eye where rage and malice blaz'd
Bel Hazor came; " Now for the pride
*' Of the* Arab name'* Bel Hazor cried j
" Now warriors, prove the crims6n tide
** That warms your veins with ardent swell ,
** Is drawn from Heav*n born Ishmaelj
** Death to the wretch that fails to reai*
" At that high name his ready spear;
" Curse on the coward heart would shrink
** From danger now, on victory's brink,
*' And may his bosom never know
" A minute's pause from shame and woe."-**
He shouted, and th' echoing skies
Echoed again their wilder cries*
In listless trance the Tartars stood
Breathless and faint from loss of blood,
1 Islunael, the Son of Abraham is known among the Ara^S aS tt*
man from whom they sprung, and ciicumciiion bw ^ejniunfed tuntll^
them, as the mark of their origin,
106 JUAID OF ARABV.
Like frozen statues ev*ry one
Except their gallant Chief alone.
Undaunted still though ev'ry breath
That fann*d his brow, was fiU'd with death;
Though on the crimson battle plain
The bravest of his friends lay slaip.
And of the few that still stood nigh
Despair seera'd lingering in each eye,
Yet did his towering spirit rise
High buopnt still, and from his eyes
Whei^ manly i^solution shone,
riash'd the bright fire of ages gone.
With brow unchanged and steady eye
He ga2*d a moment silently
On the lone remnant of that band
That lately bow*d to his command ;
Then flung his lightning glance of pride
Aloxig the gloomy valley's side ;
MAID 01? arabV* 107
** Brave hearts-* he cried-*" one way remam3
** To free us from oppression's chains,
" And make yon haughty chieftain know
" He wars not with a feeble foej
** Twice have our swords reaeem'd our land
** From that dark Arab's dread command,
" And shall we tamely yield it now % ,
*' To gild a hoary Tyrant's btow?
** No, whilst a spark of life remains
** To warm the red tide in my veins,
" Whilst this worn arm can wield a brand
** ril raise it for my native land;
And if we fall 'we fall with pride
** In the full depth of honor's tide,
" And future warriors shall come
** And gaze upon our honor'd tomb,
* And many a bard in after days
** To us shall consecrate his lays,
" And pointing to this gory dell
"Tell how the Tartair warrior'* fell j-*
JOS MAID OF ARABY.
* Now my brave friends, upon the foe,
* Let death attend on ev*ry blow,
* And glorious will hereafter be
** And crown*d with bliss, the destiny
Of him, that falls for Liberty!" ..
Loud answer'd their renewed acclaim
Re-echoing their leader's name.
Each brandishing his shining brand
Rush'd forward at his Chief's command j
Then fell destruction rag'd again
Dire slaughter strew*d the battle plain.
And desolation *mid the scene
Stalk*d wildly o'er the crimson green.
But darker flow'd the tide of war
From Tadmor*8 shining scimitar,
Whose glittVing blade in slaughter dy*d
Dealt death and pain on every sidej i
MAID OF ARABY. 109
Still foremost in the battle's van
The Leader of his valiant clan,
While countless turbans round him fall
He shone ^the leading star of all.
But vain was valor ^vain he strove
To stem the torrent from above,
That pour*d with such resistless sway
Down that deep valley's desolate way,
Sweeping before it through the glen
The remnant of his valiant men.
From front from rear they fiercely pour*d
In countless hordes, and though they bleed
Berieath the Tartars* vengeful sword,
, Still hundreds, thousands more succeed,*
And circling round the Tartar Chief
Prevent all prospect of relief
110 Mf,^ft PF -^?^Y.
He gaz'd around with madden'd eye ; . .14510^ lih?.
But hope no longer lingered nigh, -^r -^.^ i^^ln-ik^ ;
Of all his gallant Chiefs not one
Was near hira noWi he stood alone, '
Contending in the deathful strife
Each nobly ofFer'd up his life
At freedom's shrine, and bravely died
Close by his valiant Chieftain's side.
The Arabs gaz'd with awe and dread - xtmqbe'f'
On the young Chief in valor's T^^g^t^^i^amm c:?!'
O'er whom the setting sunbeams shed ^yoil raovl
A stream of radiance, far more bright
Than ever gladdi'd mortal sight.
As Heav'n upon his latest toil
Would fling its heart-approving smrle^ ., f i M'j>nn hi "
One lingering look he upwards cast,.
One last, 4ong look upon the past.
MAID OF ARABY. Ill
,!,
*Till she who was for ever nigh
Jlush'd on his aching memory,
. ico'i e/f.^ i.ro ,:!qrfijiiTt lob^CMfs 9?^^
Recalling thoughts now past away
-- - - - '^*,y^p^it4^i^'^^
Like sunshine on a stormy day, ,
. . .:T55ciQ\f oi^j u^;^ ^sioi i&di ilgiiQidX
*' Sara, farewell!** ^he wildly said,
" Now, now our breaking hearts must sever,
* The last lone pulse of hope is dead,
.b> ,h b*ioflOfl odi '. j-fcdmam id
" *Tis past *tis o'er thus then for ever-*-** '
And rushing tlirough the iV.rab bands
- a - ^noa giH
His darkening way awhile he fought, .
^ill from a thousand coward hands
. :'_ ' J-LZ:^- '.hi nciidliiO'i^l
He met the death he bravely sought ;
: . ' 'ifjiqqBfl oT
And bending 'neath unnumbered blows
Tj- iiiBv/ H'C it j)im .^Unnui mot"^ ,9gioirf ffloil
Jtle sunk at once m endless night.
While his freed spjirit buoyant rose ; diftA a^T
To realms of everlasting light j b erit ;ft5l 9Ysii
Where sorro^^, anguish, care or paioo ^i^J i^ik
Shall never wound his heart a^ain :
11 MAID OF ARABY.
rrr .yk/: oiai/:
The night has fall'n on dale and hill,
And all is lonely, drear and still ;
n do ' ,
The shout of triumph, and the roar . , ,._
Of battle, now are heard no more;
Through that lone glen the western breeze
Scarce stirs the slumb'ring aspen trees,
,, '^ ^ ! - ; ; '.) "'WT ,v7oX '*
Thai seem their sweetest tears to shed
'/;f, ?! ':r:nrf to c ' ": '^rrol^JgBl ^ifT *
In memory to the honor'd dead.
The Nightingale that lov'd to pour
His song of love va yonder glen, ^ ^ -
.,r,, ,^A o-; 'l];rv/- yn77 7^f:;.( 'ilDD 8lfl-
Since that sad hour was heard no more ..
Breathing his heavenly strains again j
To happier climes he fled afar , , -.. , r
From noise, from tumult, and from war, - ^r
The Arab Chieftain and his n^ 11^-^:^^ olixiW
Have left the desolated, glen, ^ralu*i oT
And darkly clos'd thrSBa^W'fjigfTf '''''' ^''^'^^
On the pale gleams of fadihg li^h^ ^''^'^^''^" ^^^^^
MAID OF ABA^y. 113
The close of that ^astrous day, j, oi -iJi^o^ nVi
As back they wend their darkening way*
To the lone tower their course they steer ?t oPf
Since there a pledge their Cliief had left.
Still to his hard, hard bosom dear,
Though of each brighter feeling reft.
And as his eye with pleasure beam'd
On the dread scene his hand had trac*d.
To other eyes than theirs ^he seem*d
7 lo n.
Like the wild Demon of the waste.
Steering his devastating course
Untam*d by sorrow or remorse.
Throughout that desolate valley wide
Lone silence reign*(J o^ ev'ry sidej
It seem*d as though the hand of death
Had fairn upon each living thin^:- ?ti'
And not a sound, and not a breath.
Through that lone glen was murmuring?
"^l*
MAID OF ARABY.
No song to soothe the slumberer's rest,
No flower to bloom upon his breast ;
No tear to dew his clay-coid cheek,
No sigh the dreary gloom to break,
No balm to scent the slumbering air.
And all was desolation there.
r
J
But brighter tears will soon be ffiv*n , r , .
Than ever fall from human eyes, r n'
^ !>0T^ fsnio o I
The tears of weeping Saints in Heav'n
On Freedom's glorious sacrifice. ^ . , ,.
And brighter beams shall cheer his dream.
And holier sighs his slumbers fan,
And sweeter shall such incense seem * ^
Than aught \vas ever breath 'd by man.
And see, the beauteous orb of night
Is rising brightly in the East,
Flinging its silver beams of light
On the Jone Waniores pulseless breas^.
MAID OF ARABY. 115
And many a diamond tear begems
His pallid brow as lone he lies,
Bright as the sparkling diadems
That grace the Seraphs of the skies.
But see that form, light, free, and fair,
Like some inhabitant of air
Light bounding o'er the redgrass there!
Mark, how she steals along the grjen
With hurried step, disorder'd mienj
Her raven hair, long, glossy, bright, '-* '-- -
Floating dishevell'd in the light!
Her wild eye glancing darkly round.
Now pausing, bent upon the ground
Now sternly fix*d on vacancy.
Now turned upon the moonlit sky,
As if she mark*d some object there
That sooth*d her bosom's fell despair!
1 tS I ^ixm OF Aft Am,
No, Sara! no, there's nothing now^
Can calm thy heart, dr cool thy brotr;
No earthly power cafn ikm" restrain
The raging feter of thy brain^
Or bring thy long lost peace again.
How happy was thy mom of life!
How free from sorrow, care or strife!
When o'er the meads belov'd so well,-
Thou'st sported with thy dear gazelle.
And joy*d to see ife soft black eye
Still tum*don thine so tenderly;
While round its brow a band thou'st wreathed
Of flowers on which the moon had breath'dj
Then peaceful by some mountain stream
Thou'st lain and slept thy happy dream ;
Or in thy lov'd acacia bowers
Beguil'd with song the ling'ring hours,
MAID OF ARABY, 117
While fancy hung in wonder mute
On the sweet echoes of thy lute;
And ev'ry life-pulse in thy breast
The throb of h^piness confest,
A'^id evVy thought that bless'd thy youth
Was drawn from innocence and truth,
"While thy young heart light, pure, and free
As the bright pearl in Oman's Sea,
Felt not a wish beyond tlie care
That bound thee in enchantment there,
Where fancy deck'd with fairy finger
The spots on which she lov'd to linger.
How chang'd, alas! how altered now.
How cold that heart, how pale that brow!
How sunk the lustre of those eyes
That stole their glances on the heart,
Soft, melting gleams, as summer skies
Fling from their orbs before they part!
51
118 MAID OF ARABY*
Cold, dark and senseless now she seems,
Uncheer*d by Hope's oi- Fancy's beams;
Unguided by Religion's light.
And sear'd by sorrow's dead'ning blight j
Yet in the gashes of her eye
Though strange and wild, you might descry
Somewhat of Heaven's holier light
That burst upon her soul's dark night, -
And seem'd to tell, though lingering here
Her spirit sought another sphere.
All day she sat, and! wept alone
Her Tadmor's sorrows and her own ;
Nor heard she 'till the close of day
Tlie horrors of th' infuriate frayj
, But when she saw her Sire returning
With pleasure in his glances burning.
And heard those Icud triumphant cries
Tliat echoed to the vaulted skies
MAID OF ARABY. 119
Fi?om yon embattled field, oh! then
Conviction flash*d upon her brain ;
With madness raging in her eyes
Across the lonely plain she flies
And to the desolate valley hies.
Where stream'd around on ev'ry side
Dark currents_of that crimson tide.
Which freedom's sons had drawn and shed.
Before their freebom spirits fled.
Oh ! there are hearts through grief, despair.
That still live on untam'd by care;
Hearts of such coarse unhallowM mould.
So dead, so senseless, and so cold,
lliat eY*n the woes which others chill,
But make them harder, sterner still.
Alike to them affetion*ai smile.
Keen sorrow's pang, or pleasure *s wile.
120 MAID OF ARABY,
Alike to them the sweets of life.
Its joys, its sorrows, or its strile,
tike rocks upon the Green Sea shore
By wave and sunshine wafted o'er.
Alike immoveable they lie
Tliough each their separate influence iff.
!But Sara! *twas not thus with thee, .
*rhy heart could feel its misery.
As true it felt grief's icy chill
As late it throbb'd with rapture's thrill,
f And to a heart so soft, so pure,
*Twas more than ev'n it could endure!
By her lost Tadmor's side she stands,
With aching heart and lifted hands;
Her straining eye where madness burn'd
Now bent on him, now upwards turn'd,
As if in that blue arch to spy
Some refuge from her misery.
BIAID OF aRABY. 121
No sigh escap'd her anguishM breast^
No tear her agony confest;
Her burning brain whose aching throb
Was echoed by the wilder sob
That burst convulsive from her heart.
As with it, life itself would part;
Her burning brain could scarce supply
One tear to cool her fever'd eye.
A few short minutes there she stood,
Gaz'd on his face all 'smear'd with blood,
Then with a shriek, terrific shrill.
That echoed round from dale and hill,
* Tadmor! I come I come" she cried.
And pressing to his clay-cold side
Like a pale flower, sunk to the earth and died!*
HAMET THE ARAB>
d TJtJE.
'IviittAli-
** JTai nag6 dans le sang"; quele sang coule encore;**
La Henriade de VoUaire,
^>V%%^^^0|J '^^%^%^%%*^%
The midnight moon illum'd the wave
That roll'd o'er Hermon's lonely grave,
And many a starbeam beauteously ^.^t^'
Was glancing on the dark blue sea.
As Hamet's bark flew swiftly o'er
The waters to Arabia's shore.
It seem'd as though the peaceful light
Had come to bless the cheerless night.
To bid those ghastly spectres fly
That haunt the woe-struck mourner's eye,
And chase from hearts consum'd by care
The hateful phantoms of despair.
126 HAMET fHE ARAB.
But brighter far that light from Heav'n
To guiltless bosoms only giv*il,
That light, eternal and refiiiM,
iThat dwells within the vacant miiad,
That soothes the heart and calms the breast.
And jflings upon our hours of rest
Such visions, as' at first blit seem
The phantasms of a fairy dreanl.
Such bliss shall never Hamet knaw<
His joy is past his doom is woe ;
His breast by guilty passions riv'n.
His thoughts to vengeance only giv'n,
Alike unfit for Earth or Heav'n;
His iron heart unus'd to feel
Is sterner than the stubborn steel
That's temper*d in the bloodstain*d brand
He grasps within his murderous hand.
No generous grief his^ bosom sears^,
No son*ow wrouglit by pity's tears,
HAMET THE ARAB. 127
The pangs that wring his guilty breat
In vengeance only can have rest;
The hectic fluslies that I trace
Dark flashing o*er his sallow face.
Betray the workings of a mind
To shame, and sin, and guilt resign*d.
Unlike oh I how unlike the heart
Consum'd by sinless sorrow's dart,
His breast*s the residence of care>
His woe is guilt his hope despair.
^' *Tis well, he drinks the salt sea-wave,
^* I would not give him ev'n a grave,
** Nor resting place however sm^l
*' To hold his hated .corse withal ;
u ^y vengeance would he poor indeed
^ Unless I saw and felt him bleed,
** Unless I mark,*d his glazing eye
^* Grow dim with inwai^l agony.
128 ITAMlfiT THE ARAB.
** And felt tTi6 deathdamp on that brot'i^
** That frown'd so !ate on all below;
" I saw it all ^the qmv*ring tongue
** On which th' half utter*d accents hun^,
** The eye-ball dim the ghastly stare
** The look the visage of despair;
** His pallid cheek where late the blood
" Had roird its hot, impetuous floods
* Convuls*d with painful agony
** Was more than joy, 'twas bliss to st^
** Ohl how I fed upon the sight,
" How feasted even to delight!
* When gazing I beheld my foe
" The one on earth I hated-^low,
** Gasping beneath my vengeful hand
" His life-blood quivVing on my brand.
" Yet Hermon, was it Ttind in me
.* To set thy hated spirit free;
HAMET THE ARAB. 129
* To roam through realms of bliss abore
" 'Mid scenes of happiness and love 5
** I should have kept thee still below
** And taught thee by experience woe;
* No matter now enough thou'rt gone
** And I am left to rule alone,
" 0*er glory's wave to guide the helm
" Sole master of a conquer'd realm,
** Now then revenge shall have its fill,
** And mine is thirsting even still."
The bark approach'd the silent shore
And Hamet bounded lightly o'er.
Like lightning sped across the strand
And join'd his own impatient band.
How calm, how beautiful the hour.
When winds and waves have lost their power!
ISO HAMET THE ARAB*
\Vh$n over e^rth, and air, and sea
Reigns a profound tranquillity,
And not a sigh disturbs the calm
That hre?^thes around its blissful balmj
When Q*er the peace-enamour'd tide
The moon flings forth its radiance wide^
'Till ey'n the warring wild'winds seem
LuU'd Jiy the splendors of its beam*
Whilst wave* that. lately l^h*d the shore
Now roll their waters softly o*er.
In gentle, undulating flow*
As if Uiey felt for human woej
Or that the spirit etf the ealm
Hdl hrea^*d this sw^cta amhrosial bahuj,
To t^l y^ nvan f guilt and sin^
Th^x>*s peacQ withoutthough ^yar wi*hiu*
AU*s stiU npe>n the land and wave*
Cfehft ^i fy^ ?lumhQr of the gravc^
ttAMET tti^ ARAB. 131
Calm as the mourner's aching breast
When all within is hush'd to i^est*
Sueh was the scene and such the houf
When Hamet sought his Lihda*s boWei'
The mountain echoes as he spgd
Scarce ansiwer'd to his hasty ti'Cad,
As wending down its rugged side
His native home at length he Spied.
Oh! sweet's the sigh that swells the heart,
And bright the tear that loVes tD Start*
When after toils and datigers past
We view our long-lov'd home at last.^
Sensations Surely all must feel*
But Hamet's is a heart of steel,
Though banish'd long each fond tegrei
This tehder feeling lingers yet,
1 O quid solutis est bcatius ("uris !
Cum mens onus repoiiit, ac pcregrind
Labore fessi yenimus Larem ad nostrum^
Desiderato<}ue acquiescimus iccto.
Catullus. Carm. sxxiii
152 HAJVIET THE AKAB.
To view the scenes where once he mov'd.
To clasp the wife he fondly lov'd.
And still to his dark bosom dear
The boy he left behind him here ;
How sweet such dreams of happiness!
But Hamet ne'er shall taste such bliss j
No banner's flying on his wall.
No warder gives the signal call.
No joyful band with pride elate
Are come to meet him at the gate,
ITie echoes of his bugle horn
Unanswered o'er the vale are borne.
With beating heart, and wandering eye.
He gazes round him silently.
As o*er each lonely turret bright
The moonbeams fling their trembling light,
Revealing In each mouldering tower
The ruins of his fallen power.
HAMET THE ARAB. 133
As if to tell 'mid all was fair
That desolation had been there j
But on the surface of the deep
In blest tranquillity they sleep,
And on its peaceful bosom lie
Like visions of futurity 7
To youth's enthusiastic eye.
No voice replied to Hamet's call
As lone he strode across the hall.
No heart with unexpected bliss
Was there to beat reply to his,
No well known voice delights his ear
With music that was once so dear.
Nor wife, nor child was there to greet
His widow'd heart with welcome sweet.
** Linda!" th* half mutter'd accents feM
In silence still more horrible.
The owlet's terrifying scream
As startled from its moody dream
s
'134< HAMET THE^ARAJB.
It flapp*d its heavy wig around,
Was all the answer Hamet found.
That moment o'er his guilty head
The moon her silver radiance shed.
And starting as the sudden light
Wide flashed upon his aching sight,
What agonies his lifeblood freeze^
When gazing madly round^ie sees
Prostrate upon the crimson floor
His Linda weltering in her gore!
And by their breathless mistress* side
The faithful slaves that for her died,
Each held a da^er in his grasp.
And strain*d it with convulsive clasp.
Wild was the shriek of fell despair
That bfoke the awful stillness there,
As Hamet by his Linda's side
Yet reeking with the crimson tide
That flowed in streams around her, cried
HAMET THE ARAB. 135
*' My Linda! Linda!** but in vain,
She ne*er shall hear that voice again.
No, Hamet! no the die is cast.
Thy hopes are o*er thy joys are past.
With clenched hands and bended knee,
And eye that spoke his agony,
Not looking to offended Heav*n,
But on his Linda's bosom riv*n.
Lost Hamet lies and in his face
Such ghastly lineaments I trace
As time I ween shall ne'er efface;
Dark horror, madness and despair.
With sin and guilt are lurking there,
And in his eyes' unhalldw'd gleam
That flashes on the moon's pale beam
Like lightning o^er a wintry stream,
I read the movements of a soul
^VTiere woe and guilt alternate roll.
136 EtAMET THE ARAB.
'* Merciless fiend!" at length he cries^
While fury sparkles in his eyes,
" No thought of rest shall Hamet know,
'* No respite from his inward woe,
" *Till on thy hated head he wreaks
" The vengeance that his bosom seeks
** For this lost innocent and here
** With hand upon her corse I swear,
" By the pure blood that warm*d that breasfe
** Never to taste a minute*^ rest,
" Never to know a pause from care
* *Till from thy murderous heart I te^F
* The last life-pulse that lingers there;
" Blest Alia! grant me tMs, before
** I die and Hamet asks no more"
With curses that the heart would freeze
FaH'n Hamet on his bended knees,
ITAMET THE ARAB. 13 i
With heart and soul to vengeance giv'n
Invokes the aid of angry Heav'n ;
Dark flashed his glaring eye the while
As fixed upon the placid smile
That play'd upon his Linda's lips,
From whence the frozen life-blood drips,
Though pale, and cold and lifeless now,
Death's icy chill upon her brow.
And clos*d, for ever clos'd those eyes
That held each heart in fond surprise,
And lost the music of that breath.
Still seems she beautiful in deaths
And fancy fain would think she slept.
But then stern Hamet ne'er had wept,*
And Hamet wept! ^lie did not weep
When late across the rolling deep
Unmov'd by pity or remorse.
He dragg'd his lifeless rival's corse
138 HAJVPST THK AKAB.
Yet reeking from its earthly grave
And plungM it in the foaming wave, ^ ^-^noriv
To seek amid tli storD^ s^
Refuge from man's malignity.
No tear shed haughty Hamet then^^ ,
But Hamet ne'^r l^^ ,)^:Qep againj.^ ,^^.
The only drop he ever shed , ^^ ^.^ ii^oiil
Was pour'd upon his Linda's head.
" My murder'd >^Ijyr^l' W^>yp.^ he prie4
And dash*d the recreant tear aside,
But started, as a fearful shout
Loud echoed from tl^?;^ val^ without
Burst on his ear, instant the brand
Is flaming in his blood-red hand;
His glaring eye's wide flawing fire
Betrays his yet unchillM desire,
And secret, unrelenting hate.
As if he spum*d the frowns of fate,
HAMET THE ARAB. 139
As if the dangers he had past
An amulet had round Win cast,
That bound him with a magic spell
And render*d him invincible.
Rous'd by the wellknown battle call
He darted from the silent hall,
And gazing down the vale beneath
Beheld across the moonlit heath
With sabres flashing in the light, fit^itri s i i
An Arab band for battle dight
Rushing with fury from the height.
Hamet beware the hour is nigh
That seals thy wayward destiny,
No valiant band is near thee now
To guard from foes thy frontless brow,
No faithful hand no ready arm
To shield thee in the dread alarm.
140 HAMET THE ARAB.
But woe aud death, and vengeful wrath.
And infamy, are in thy path.
Who leads yon band of warriors brave
That come like Ocean's stormy wavt
Shouting across the moonlit glen
That echoes to their shouts again ?
His features I have mark*d before
In distant lands, ^but then they bore
Tlie tokens of maturer age,
And seem'd to boast its signet sage;
I err they're but the semblance fair
Of features I have seen elsewhere;
Upon his youthful brow I read
No trace of any warlike deed,
Though by his eyebeam's dazzling fire
I guess he bums with noble ire.
And longs to prove 'mid war's alarm
The prowess of his youthful arm.
HAMET THE AEAB. 141
Though all unknown his state and name.
His mien a Chieftain's rank might claim,
As rushing from the mountain's head
His faithful Arab band he led.
Who meets hin^*/in the vale below ?
'Tis Hamet by. his scowling brow,
Like rock upon the ocean strand
Unmov*d unaw'd, I see him stand
With naked broadsword in his hand', "
His heart as firm as fixed his eye,
As if his valiant clan were nigh.
As rush'd his clansmen by his side.
Forth flew the youthful Chief, and cried
" Hold, warriors ! hold, to me belongs
^' The right t 'avenge, a Parent's wrongs,
** And from yon traitor's heart to drain
" The best lifeblood that warms his vein,
T
142 HAMET THE ARAB,
" Or spill the last that flows in mine,
*' Now vengeance, I am wholly thine I*'
And rushing on bis steady foe,
First dash*d the turban from his brow,
And guided by the moon's pale light,
That o'er the valley floated bright.
Cleft at a blow the vulture plume
That wav'd o'er Hamet's brow of gloom,
Flash'd the red fire from Hamet's eye
Dark lowering on his enemy
Waving his broadsword to the sky
" Perdition catch that arm" he cried,
And plung'd it in the warrior's side,
Tlien backward drew it as he stood
Yet reeking with the crimson blood.
And holding high the streaming blade;
" Lmda ! thou art reveng'd" he said,
HAHET THE ARAB, 14S
" The hand that drew thy spotless gore
** Shall never grasp a sabre more.*' --
Down fell the youth his closing eye
Fix'd on his foeman heavily,
And ere his ready band c. uld fly
T'ayenge their leader's death of die,
** My friends,** he sigh'd, a moment cease
" And let Alnathan die in peace**
* Alnathan, ha 1'* lost Hamet cried.
And shriek'd, *till all the valleys wide
Echoed again from side to side,
* Yes, traitor, yesj Alnathan dies,
** But from his blood shall vengeance ri^e,
* And Hamet on thy guilty head
>*^ Revenge the dying and the dead.
But oh I the anguish thus to die
^* Unknown ^ttnmark*d by destiny.
<(
144< HAMET THE AB
* Untitled in the lists of fame,
" No glorious deed to gild my name
" Or save me from the coward's sb^mfi
** Too weak to guard ^too late to save
'* A paren'i fri>m a timeless grave,
** Lorn as the sod op which he lies
** The hapless son of Hamet dies!**
No hand can trace the agony
That writhM in Hamct's hollow eye.
As dropping on his bended knee
And letting fall the deathful brand.
He gra^'d Alnathan's dying h^id.
And ere his spotless soul had flown
With look would melt a heart of stone
Murmur'd aloud " my son my son !*'-^
Alnathan op'd his glazing eye
And grasp*d his hand convulsively.
Then pointing to the moonlit sky
HAMET THE ARAB. "145
1* Father ! \ve part be all forgiv'n
** Since not on earth we'll meet in Heav'a"
A smile across his features past, 4
It was his brightest a ad his last.
Dark as that everlasting bed
Where rests the weary wanderer's head,
Secure from wind, and stoma and show*r.
Was Hamet's soul in that dread hour.
His heart by pangs alternate riv'n.
Ne'r cast a mercy glance to Heav*n,
That Heav*n that lends a willing ear
To each repentant'sinner*s pray'r.
The saving mercy of whose plan
Is ne'er withheld from sinful man.
He spoke not, mov'd not, ^but the trace
Of deadly horror pal'd his face.
And in his eyes' convulsive roll
1 view the anguish of his soul,
14ff HA>1ET THE ARA.
As gewing on his lifeless boy
His early pride^-his Linda's joy,
Now eold and pulseless on the earth
And sped by him who gave him birth j
He^rt there may be such pangs can bear.
But even hk h broken there.
The maon that late so s^yeetly shone
Has ^t its brightest beams are gone.
Dark olauds obscure the peaceful light
That late had cheer*d the joyless night.
In, gloomy masses swift tliey fly
And shadow o*er the difeii'd sky,
A^uimng UQW gigantic fomn
And ^ill p<atsnds aj^roacMog storm 5^
Ij^^here^ wKere fe hiaughty Hamet fted;
He sbiidbt vtfA mth the silent dead?
HAMET THE ARAB* 147
The storm is upalong the sky
In vollied gleams the lightHings fly,
Not transient beams that soon expire
But sheeted wreaths of living fire>
Now hissing on the dark blue wave
That opens like a yawning grave^
Now quiv'ring on the lofty rock
That late had own'd the thunder's shockj
Its streaming radiance gave to view
Tne horrors of each scene anew*
The blazing clouds like burnish'd gol4
Far to the west in masses roU'd*
Reflecting on their sombre fold
The bluefork'd lightning's vivid glare
That play'd upon their surface there j
And as the fiery flashes roll
Thundf 'd tile HeaVen's from pole tc pole
14S HAMsrr th"e arab,
WMy dark, and desperate was the roar
Of winds and waves upon the shore.
The raging billows mountains high
Heav'd their broad bosoms to the sky.
Then sudden sunk with sullen motiou
In the dark caverns of the ocean ; ^
As if the spirit of the deep
Had waken *d from his peaceful sleep,
And join'd the war-fiend's stormy power
To rule the horrors of the hour.
So dreadful was the mingled cry
Of elements, from eaith to sky.
As if a thousand spirits there
Let loose from Hell, rode on the air,
And flung upon the midnight blast
Their screaming voices as they past.
Long rag'd the storm ^the thunder's gfoao
Mix'd with the \vild ^vind*s hollow moan
HAMET THE ARAB. 149,
Jell on the ear, like boding ciy
Of some (Lead spirit from the sky
To warn the sinner doom*d to die.
Far, bright, along the dark sky dancinff
I raark'd the mtteor flashes glancing,
But not a starbeam lent its light
To gild the horrors of the night.
And not a single moon beam gave
Its radiance to the stormy wave.
The raven's shrieks were heard aloncj
Wlien ceas*d the thunder's hollow groa.
And in its fateful pa^se for breath
They sounded like the shrieks of deatju
The frighten' d sea bird sc^feam'd afar
And fled the elementat war.
Who stands upon yon naked rock
And seems to brave the te^npest's shook?
u
150 ha:met the akab.
His dreary, gaunt, and ruin*d form,
Like th* angry spirit's of the storm.
With heart as stranger to repose
Seems brooding over inward woes.
I marked him by the lightning's .fj-Iare
In sullen silence standing there.
The lonely image of despair.
Thus gloomy, dark, and stain'd with blood.
The first unrighteous murderer stood.
And gaz'd upon his brother's corse
With heart unriven by remorse!
With folded arms and upcast eye
He gaz'd upon the stormy sky, *^^ ^^^ *
Nor seem'd to reck the tempest's rage
That play'd upon his brow' of age.
But bar'd his bosom to the storm
That roai-'d around his lonely form.
HAMET THE ARAB, 151
His eye was sunk ^his cheek was pale,
His dark hair trembled in the gale,
No turban on his head he wore
No sabre in his hand he boi-e,-
Alone ^unarm'd, yet undismay'd,
With hands across his bosom laid,
Hears*d in his mental agony
He stood in speechless miseiy,
Nor spoke save to the winds that bore
His darksome words unheeded o'er.
As desperate as the thoughts that rest
Within that hopeless,. peaceless breast;
For peace with guilt can linger never
And hope has fled and fled for ever,
^ * *
The storm had ceas'd the winds were hush*d|
The darlv sea-wave no longer rush*d.
The wild bird's shrieks were heard no more.
3till was the thunder's sullen roar,
i5S HAMET THE ARAB,
And Nature paus'd in silence dread
Around the guilty sinner's head.
The thunder clouds have pass'd away
That veiPd the nlghtbeam*s cheering ray,
And left yon sky unclouded, bri^t,
And studded with the orbs of r.ight.
Ko sound is heard o*er land or wave.
And all is silent as the grave;
Such stillness as at night is spread
Around the mansions of the dead.
When all are lull'd to rest, save those
That darldy brood o*er guilty woes.
Amid the cdm the western breeze
That floated o'er the slumb'rlng seas.
Soft music wafted as it sigh'd
That length'ning into distance died,
While thus a voice loud, deep and strongs
In iipournful cad<ce roU'd aioi^
HAMET THE ARA^d^ 15S
O'er the bed of the brave
The night dews are weeping.
On the warrior's grave
The flowrets are sleeping.
Silently, lovvlyj
'Mid the silence of night
The wild winds are sighing,
Whilst the moon sheds her light
On the hearts that are dying,
Solemnly, slowly.
Through the azure of Heav'n
No starbeam is glowing,
The light flashing levin
Its efiibers is throwing.
Brilliantly, brightly;
0*er the grave of the dead
The ravens were shrieking.
But in horror they fled
When the dark storm was breakiog,
Rapidly, lightly!
154* HAMET THE ARAB.
The heart that is sadden'd
Its sorrow may cherish.
The braiu that is maddened
Its life spring will perish,
Biiried in slumber j-r?
Deep in the silent gravQ
SoQi^ shall thy sorrows ifest,
Then shall Oblivion's wave
AVasli from thy anguish*d breast
Woes without number !
Hush*d were the sounds and Hamet stoQd
Gazing upoa the angry flood ;
His sunken pulse ^liis lifeless eye
Betray his inward apathy,
The deadly venom of that blast
That o'er his fondest hopes had past.
That chiird his age with woe and shame,
And crush'd the gloiies of his name.
HAMET THE ARAJB, 155
No faithful friend is near him how^. "^^ ^ rriffjt s()
To wipe the damp d^w frotri his brdW, ' '
His wild and wandering thoughts to calm ' ii&fii
Or soothe his- heart with mercy's balm^ ~^'o *sr!X
Ah ! lone and cold in earth is she"' ti n^.ot^ ImP.
Was wont to bid his troubles flee.
Whose angel smile had chas'd away
The sorrows of his earlier day, ' '- t? fl
Ere wild ambition far from home '^
Had taught his wayward steps to roam 5
And colder, darker still is' He '
Whose death hath clos*d his misery j
On whom his brightest hopes were plac'd.
In whom a parent's fondness trac'd
The future glories of a name
Now stain'd with sin and guilt and shame-.
Oh! better Hamet! hadst thou died
On Kennan's snOwy mountain side, ^* ^-^
tB6 HAMET THE ARAl^-
Or found a cold but happy grave
Beneath the Ocean's stormy wave,
Than live tp feel the deadly blast
That o'er thy aching heart hath past.
And frozen in its hottest flood
The genial current of thy blood.
Thy life was su,ch ^but see! he tears
With gory hands his clotted hail's,
And flings them to the silent air
As witness of his soul's despair!
Poor maniac! in thy frantic shriek
I hear the voice of justice speak
The awful mandates of that Heav'u
To which thy thoughts were never giv'n.
Peace, hope, and ev'ry blessing gone,
I see thee stand and stand alone,
And in thy woe-worn brow I trace
The last, sad remnant of thy race.
^AMET THE AHAB. UT
Dark, ler|i, yet awful still, he stood
Xike the last mountain in the flood.
Rearing its tall, majestic fonn
Amid the dark surrounding storm.
TTius Hamet stocfd ^his uptum'd ey%
In silence fix'd upon the sky.
As if his broken spirit there
Would seek a refuge from despair;
Then sudden turning to the deep
That rock*d beneath in eddying sweep,
** Hermon! thou art reveng'd" -he cried,
And plung*d into the flashing tide.
The dark wave floated to the bank
As slowly in its breast he sank.
Then rose a moment buoyant o'er
The waters, and was seen no moret
Thus Hamet died and with him fell
The darksome tale he fear'd to tell.
V
"^ Jliia fiiiwij Joy; ^^l ^sIjjsQ
' . . ' id gtii.!ii feA
-oiii
POEMS.
Kon ; ce n'est ni par choix ni par raison d'aimcr,
Qu'en voyant ce qui plait on se laisse enflammer.
D'un aveugle penchant le channe imperceptible
Fr^pe, saisit, entraine, et rende un ccEur sensible ;
Et par nn inscrutable et necessaire loi,
Ckx se Uvre a I'amour sans qu on sSche pourquoi.
y. Corneille*
To-
" The friendships of the worid are oft
Clonfed'racies in vice, or leagues of pleasure;
Ours has severest ^virtue for its basis,
And such a friendship ends not but with life.
<S>
Adiisiffif
Where trembling osiers waver in the tide
By flowing Avon's flower- enamell'd side.
Friend of my soul! behold me calmly laid
Beneath the shelter of an aspen's shade.
Whose branches quiver in the mountain gale
That scatters odours through this lonely vale
ITie Sun in all its bright meridian glow
Is glistening on the waves that glide below;
And all the charms by nature kindly giv'n.
And all the beauties of the summer Heav*n
Reflected in that streamlet's clear expanse.
Bright as the beams that on its waters dance.
162 POEMS.
* T-
'Tis sweet, my friend! in this sequester'd da'e
Where no rude sorrows o*er the mind prevail.
Where peace displays her silver beams of light
And blissful visions soothe my dreams nt night,.
'Tis sweet to think on joys for eve); fled,j^ ^-j,o
And friends long number'd with "the peaceful dead ;
And as in memory's re.trospective view
Those scenes of joy or sorrow we renew.
Sweet is the balm their consolation throws
O'er all life's perils, vanities, and woes.
How oft together we have fondly stray'd
In secret bliss, through pleasure's flow'ry glade,
Where Love first led m to his.haUow*d bed
.7 ;T^'';r' ' ''^ ;^^ji<y:t^1 sriT-aho n^Vri^ *ef(T
And smil'd propitious on his votaries* headj
Where Beauty lent her soul-bewitching smile
Our care? to banish, and our griefs beguile j
'j:*7iT vlLrbl ut^V-f: v*I :.r";i-f> ;
Where hope, and joy, and all love's tender ties,
In heav'nly radiance met our wond'ring eyes. *
Oh ! what emotions fill'd my youthful breast^
\yhat fairy visions sooth'd my happy rest ! -
POEMS. iBS
What ardent wishes, and what burning fires,
"What thrilling pleasures and what wild desires !
When Beauty smiPd upon my burning heart ; :A
What secret rapture did her smile impart!
Yes, Eva! yes, to thee alone I owe ' ''^'^* -
These thrilling ecstacies, this fervid glow; '^
My heart was joyless, comfortless and cold.
Though form'd by nature of the finest mould, 'A
'Till first I saw that soul-enticing face.
That form endued with dignity and grace.
That form on which I oft have fondly hung
While sweetest accents issued from thy tongue. ,
Oh! that this trembling tongue had leave to tell
Each wild epotion, and each turbid swell;
Each secret thrill that makes my life-blood warm.
That joys my heart while gazing on thy form!
Oh! that I might one n^Qp^ejiJ; at thy feet
Tell all my sorrows all'my l^e repeat, v > -
And lo^t in raptures of ecstatic bliss
Pout all my soul ia one entrancing kiss,
'Till life, and lave and happiness be o^er, . i
And this wild heart should boat with joy no more.
And say, swfiet Maid! wben at thy feet I lie -^ '
Wilt tliou not breathe one uareluetant sigh? .
Oh! wilt thou not one pitying tear-drop shed
Q*er him whose heart ahall soon b: poidand ikartf
And when^oft sorrowjsin thy.bcawna rijie
And the teal's trickle from thy sparkling eyes,
My heart though cold shall feel the balmy tear
And bless the soul that wej^t upon my bier.
Farewell my friend! I fain would tell thee a!I^
But fate forbids past sorrows to recal j
No ray of hope shall break my jayless Jream
*Till Bevy's sun shall wake me with its beam;
No fairy visions haunt my couch at nig'it ^^~- ^^ ^
*Till love shall crown me with its pure dL4ighti
Oh 1 tl)en my heart shall yield to grief no more.
But weep with joy ^vteu all its sorrow's o*er.
POEMS. 1S5
To
']>i>i em :iSi.
The Sun has set upon the verdant green,
And ev'ning spreads her shadows o'er the scenes
No sounds disturb these ever calm retreats
Save when the night-bird sullenly repeats,
As o'er the silent vale she flits along
Her pensive, lonely, melancholy song.
Light o'er th' unruffled stream the western breeze^
Sweeps sadly on, and sighs amid the trees;
The dew is glistening on the woodbine bowers
And wreaths of mist enclothe the vernal flowers;
The bird of night has ceas'd her pensive thrill
And all is solitary, calm, and still.
'Tis sv^eet, my Friend! to mark the close of day.
And watch the setting Sun's last, ling'ring ray.
To see the parting beams of golden light
Yet faintly gleaming on the mountain's height ;
w
166 i POEMS.
And view the gloomy shades of ev*ning grey
Come darkly hovering o*er the fading ray ;
And when each scene a pensive aspect wears
And ev*ry plant is crown'd with pearly tears/^ ftff A
'Tis sweet in some deserted grot to lie, :rog o>l
And weep the tear, and pour the secret sigh. n^,
To me at least, it is an hour of joy,^rf^ v/
For then my mind can think without alloy, >q tou
For then to peaceful meditation giv'n o ii^iJL
I dream of bliss, and raise my hopes to Heav'n. '
Think, fondly think on her, whose witching smile
CouUl all these sorrows, all these cares heguifej/ i'uA
Whose tuneful accents, like the Harp's wild thrill, .
liaise the fond heart to ecstacy at will,, i;';: ;; ; :: i>iiA
Whose endless beauties all my praise employ.
The sojircc of all my sorrow all my joy.
Oh! beauteous Eva! could my burning. h^art
To thine biiq sentiment of love impart,
Fix in that breast where ev'ry virtue dwelk
The a] dent love that my fopd bosom swells,
POEMS. 167
Aixd when I m^rk'd the lov'd ideas rise
Swell in thy breast and sparkle in thine eyes,
A moment gaze upon thy kindling charms
Then catch thee fainting in my longing arm,
And feel thy heart, thy bosom, and thy brow,
As tremulously beat as mine do now,
'Till all our thoughts to dreams of pleasure fly
And our souls issue in one lingering sigh.
Yes, lovely Maid!-while thought, while mem'ry keen
StiU hold their seats in this distracted brain,
AVhilst through this frame the crimson life blood flows
And my warm heart with warmer rapture glows
I'll think of thee, of thee beloved Maid!
'Till fleeting thought before Death's image fade.
And even in my last expiring breath
I'll mingle rapture with the pangs of death.
Triend of my heart 1 ere sorrows close my eyes
And my wrapt soul to brighter realms shall rise.
168 PC^E^lSw
Ah! haste and soothe me with thy teudcr carfi,
Hush my sad sighs and lull me from despair;
Here in this peaceftd solitude we*ll rove,
Think on the past, and talk of endless love.
Then haste my Friend 1 and qwit those scenes of strife
Those busy scenes of fashionjihle life,
Where vice and folly ev'ry scene pei^^jfeij iwo JU liiT*
And virtue flies affrighted to tjiie ^h^rs " vo hah
Where vulgar pleasures fill the vacant day
And nightly revels meet the morning's ray. .. ;
There was a time, when my untroubled heart
Could in these pleasures take a willing part.
Could smile at joys as fleeting as the sun
And sigh for more when these were past and gone > ; '
But now alas! those fairy dreams are o'er
Cold is my heart, it beats with joy no more,
^fy ev*ry hope my ev'ry wish is fled
My prospects withered, ;and my feelings dead.
1816.
vomiBi 169
: M Eva. '^ "i^^^^
When fortune frown'd and kindred fled,
' f 3TBd ^m^ 9?;:
And hatred dealt its meed of ill.
And all around were cold or dead.
Thy spirit linger'd near iHig stiU.-
As flings yon planet bright and lone.
Its radiance o*er the stormy sea.
Thy saint-like spirit o*er me shone*
^The light of my idolatry! --r'?j^f{'//
In that dread hour of woe and stoim
Which hangs upon my mem'ry yet.
When wither'd ev'ry mental charm,
And life's last light had nearly sefcjiB llbYfSiii'I
Thy pure and gentle spirit dwelt
In fond fidelity with mine,
And for each pang my bosom felt
A kindred feeling throbb'd 4^ thiae.
J
1'70 POEto.
Oh! blest for ever be the heart
Which once could shed a tear for mc.
Though adverse fates have made us part,
I still in fondness think of thee!
E'en now when ev*iy joy is past, i^^ ^liX
And hope itself has lost its beam,
Thy It)v*d remembrance still can cast
A ray to cheer my mental dream ^
^ , I'k
Whatever fate awaiteth me,
Wherever chance may bid me rove.
The sweetest tear of memory
Shall fajl for thee, my early love !
Farewell! and when some other heart
Shall claim those vows which I can never,
!1nos Imr. OTfKf \ilT
Ah! think of him, whose mortal part
Shall then indeed, be cold for ever!
1 .'JoirfJBnils'r! i.
POEMS. ^ 171i
" Cest ainsi qu'elle fut "
Rosei begemm'd with sparkling dew^" ^^ ^^^ ' ^
Rose! of rich luxuriaht'Bue, "'"'
Oil thy soft and odorous head' rooib xd^ lm)'A
.4
Nature's brightest beams are shed;
Oft IVe mark'd thee, sweetest flower! r^^' '
Bath*d in morning's dewy showeri^^- X'^'>'*^^ 'OoT
Ere the wild bee broke thy slumbers ^i rf^KQiind
"With its soft and tuneful numbers.
Or the zephyr's balmy breath
Call'd thee from thy transient death ;
Whilst the sun's enlivening beam
Pour'd on thee its richest stream ; ''^*i ^'>^* ^^^^
Then I mark'd thy leaves expand, '''^^ ^"^^^
Thy odour scent tjie zephyrs Wand, r^" '^-^
Thy blossoms opening to the viewv ' '^I ii'^id //
Thy blushing buds surcliarg'd with dew, ^^^^ eani
All thy vernal beauties ^kxwing.
Sweetest incense round tliee tlirowing!
But what means that languid hue?
Whence has fled the sparkling dew?
Where is now thy early bloq3i^f?*ffffTr*^2')d hzoH
Where has fled thy sw*et,,geiffuine? ^ lO/lsaoH
Rose! why droopstby lan^d head* ;lo8 ^di r.O
Whither have ttiy beauties fled?-^ * -^ a'gTjj-fny
Alas! the beams frcM^a y5)^ef<jp4n n^
Too fiercely on ti^y blossoms shone, h'diail
Beneath its noontide scorching r^^^ f)(iw grft cf?C
They sunk in premature decay,
And like the insect, \m\Vd with treasures, '^lij lO
You died in sweet excess of pleasures i-y.rfj f)'ffj50
Of beauty's bloom the emblem meet.
Like her, how bright, how soft, how sweet fc'ijit>"i
Like love, how soon thy fragrance dies! fj T
Like hope, how soon thy beauty flies i
Which leaving scarce a trace behind *^
Thus withers on misfortune's wind.
POEMS. 175
Child of sorrow, clnld of woesi
Come and see this faded rose,
Come and view the lovely flower
Wither' d in its proudest hour.
And while fam;y calls anew
Hopes, that like this rose-bud grew,
Ev*ry thought with joy illuming,
Ev*ry sense with sweets perfuming;
Hopes that like this rosebud grew,
Hopes that like its odours flew,
Hopes and joys for ever gone,
Which fancy loves to dwell upon,
Which, wl^n with'ring sorrow chases
Mem*ry i^ill with fondness traces ; -
Child of sorrow, child of woes]
Tliink on this poor wither'd rose, '
Like thee it blush'd ^like thee it blew .
Like thine its early blossoms grew, .
Like thee it smil'd like thee it sigh'd^
And oh! like thine ^its promiiV. diedi
When upon the Ocean billow
With the sea-wave for thy pillow,
And the midnight moop-beam stre^ino;
On thy dark eye softly beaming,
Think of early pleasures faded,
Think of hopes by 'sorrow shaded*
Think of her whose spirit never,
Not in Death from thine shall sever!
AVhen in distant dimes thttU roV^St, - 3qi
By the radiant star thou lovestf ^ ? yrrr^ i^^lJ
When no faithftil heart is nigh th(ic,
And the friends thou trastest fly thee; '''-
Think of liomie and all its pleasures,^
Once the centre of thy treasures,
Tliink of her thou leavest mourning
Never to that home returning!
POMS.
ITJf
When the red wing'd lightning flashes,
When the sea-wave rudely dashes,
When the wild- winds rage around thee.
When the tempest's glooms surround thee^ *
ITiink of her whose spirit near thee
Borne on Seraphs* wings shall cheer thee.
Think of her ^whose heart shall never
Cease to love thee never ^never! . .
To-
Perchance in some succeeding day
These lines may meet thine eye.
When I am wandering far away
Beneath a darker sky;
Ah! may thy gentle spirit then
In sadness^ dwell on mine.
But never never care or pain
Disturb the calm of thine.
176 ^OEMS.
STANZAS, ., \,^^ ^Mm^^ii
The hearts that beat with fond deslrij r?/
Tco ooaalas! grow cold aiid dead.
As suns that glow with heav'nly Hre r
Soon sink in Octanes chilling' bed ; '-^^
Yet hearts there are no fates can sever.
There is a light that shines f(.)r ever I ^ ;i .j x
The heart that's lost in cold despair.
That feels not hope's enlivening ray,
Soon sinks beneath the weight of care
That sadden'd first its earlier day;
Then Death alone its fate can sever, i ;:d'!'
And banish all its woes for ever.
'Till reason cease her rays to fling
Across my wild, my feverM brain,
This heart to thine will fondly cling
Where all my hopes of bliss remain ;
And cease to love thee will it never
, 'Till Dont'i .shall sink its pulse f^^revor.
K)fiMS, 177
To-
Farewell farewell, we meet no more,
I fly thee raadden'd broken hearted-
Yet oft will mem'ry wander o*er
The scenes where first we met and parted.
Thy Husband let the maddening thought
Be buried in oblivion ever,
Iliat thus upon our hearts hath wrought
*Twas but delirium's fitful fever.
In distant, happier climes we'll meet,
Where earthly ties no hearts can sever
Oh! surely it will then hr- sweet
To think on sorrows past for ever!
To Eva,
The pledges, dear Maid! thy fondness gave
At parting from this heart
Shall never wander, 'till the grave
Receives its colder part ;
And when my spirit soars above
The reach of human caie
Thy sacred pledge of kindred love
I'll treasure even there!
178 :poem.
SONG,
Ah! why does the heart in its memory keep
The remembrance of days that are o'er?
And why does it ever in solitude weep
O'er those pleasures it ne'er cain know marc?
And why does the semblance of joys that are fjed,
Still cling round t;he desolate ^j^a^, ,
And still, like the ixjae-blossom, fiided and dead, T
A lingering fragrance impart?
How sweet 'tis to think op the days that are pa$t,
On the rainbow of joys that are fled.
Ere the dark clouds of sorrow its beauties o'ercasfc^
And tlie heart's keener feelings are dead.
Yet sweeter by far is the hope soon to rest
In that bed, where no sorrows can lie,
Where the soft dcwsof ev'ningshall weepo'er mybreast,
And the nightwinds around me sliall sigh.
POEMS. 179
mVITTORIA.
1813.
The summer morning's early beam
Shone brightly on Zadora's stream,
But brighter flashed the golden gleam
On Britain's btod of Warriors.
Full many a sword and helmet gay
That glitter 'd in the morning's ray>
J^re evening of that fatal day
Was dy'd ift blood o enemies!
And many a form f manly mould,
And many a heart in battle bold.
Ere night lay breathless, dark, and cold.
Beneath the war clouds* canopy.
In ev*ry warrior's manly eye
Was seen the glance of brarery.
And loud was heard the thrilling cry
Of ** Wellington and Victory!"
180 roEAfs.
Dark roll'd the battle on the plafe,
Tlie British host riish'd on amain, w
And dy'd their shining swords again.
In Gallic blood most valiantly.
The bugle's ^vild and piercing swelP
Was heard amid the battle's yell.
But deeper, darker, louder fell,
The roaring of th' A^tillciyl
And as the cannon's thunders spoke.
And louder on the ligjife wind broke,
^ The battle plain was wreath'd in smoke,
^ . . ::i f fiA
That floated dark and drearily!
The dying warrior's fading eye
Gleam 'd faintly on his comrades nigh,
Aud like his first his latest cry
-.7/'
Was, " Wellington and Victoty!"
POEJiS. . 181
Long ere the eV'nlng shades^ were spread,
The routed foe affrighted, fled
0*er heaps of wounded, piles of dead,
And left the British conquerors!
The battle's done the combat's o'er,
Zadora*s stream is dy*d with g -%
Its foaming billows lash the shore, * , '
.HOfU ! ^jjjj j.^j|j[ along most rapidly.
Where now the night-dew softly weep^
Full many a warrior lonely sleeps.
And still the night-wind sadly creeps
.r^ar'i p -^^ many a hollow murmurtng.
Yet oft the tear from sorrow's eye
Shall dew the grave bed where they lie, .
And long shall burst the secret sigh
In tribute to their memory!
On this subject the Author's feelings might well be excused* in tK *
aboTe battle he lost a beloved Brother, who fell while leading to the charge
the Light Company Of the 28h Regiment. " ^Diis alitcr visum."
180.r POEMS.
These tears of silent grief that start,
! Recal tliiuie image still to m^;
Yet art thou dear to this sad heart.,
. . , f^fiT
iTiough thou, alas! art false to me;
'Tis o'er the pleasing prospect's q*ei^, . . -
,Y Yet was it sweet to think on thee,
But now my heart can hope no more.
Since thou^ alas! art lost to ifie!
How happy \^as iiiy morn of lov^^''^ ^^^ HitabnA
^'^eri linrestramM I rang*d with thee,
But now my fondest wishes prove o-JoY
The source of constant woe to me ;
May'st thou be happy as thou'rt fair^iid j^.oi mii.
^or feci the pangs that torture me.
May anguish, .son'ow, and despair,
Be ever distant far from thee!
POEMS. *k%S
Oh! did'st thou mark yon wave that foams and sparkles
in the beam,
That chequers with its silver light, the azure flowing
stream?
'Tis there I wish to lay my head-r-beneath that rolling
^ wave.
Where human sounds may never come tX) mock my lonely
grave.
Far, far, from man's deceitful eye in silence let me rest.
And sleep to all eternity the slumber of the blest;
There shrouded in oblivion's wave and dead to human
care.
Be mem'ry of my injur'd name for ever buried there.
' ft ii *fT:'' '> ' . . ^
The clouds of woe have shadow'd o'er the morning of
my days, ' ^
And sorrow chill'd each early hope and wither'd fancy's
raya; '- -:
I've lost in life's impassion'd hour each gem that life
endears, . : ^
And tho' the eye may seem to smile the heart is drown'd
^nfW tears.
Like wither'd leaves that strew tiie ground in AutumnVi
stormy iiiglit,
The hopes that bless' d my yWh 'lie.* chill'd beneatli
affliction's bliglit;
Thus lonely in my solitude 1 gaze upon the wave,
And fain would find within its breast a sure but wel-
come grave!
Ifit POEM.
4MBKriON.
l^e bird that c]i;?.ves yon wide expanse
Upborne t a tireless wing,
N*er casts to earth a backward glance
From whence he took his spring;
Still urging on his daring flight
0*er earth and ocean blue,
*Till lessening on the gazer's sight,
He quickly fades from view!
So st^ercth man his madd'ning flight
On wild ambition's wings,
Nor whilst he seeks the golden height
One glance behind him flings ;
Still, still, his vent'rous course he steers
O'er earth's wide boundary,
*Tiil lost to view, he disappcai-s-
In dark Eternity!
To i^i:'m^mrT^ ' ^n^^ mii isot sdT
Soft be the beams, lamented shade!
n(f .'isit- do-i'it taT^aa six
That play around thy bower of rest,
Thy memory can never fadq
From this sad heait that bv'd thee best-.
, . :,'a iijiil ..'
How oft I heave the secret sigh
-. ti4'^'^'l '' hnh
- While musing on thy hapless fate,
And tears of sorrow fill mine eyt
They cannot half my grief relate. frO
I saw thy young and tender heart
Each secret throb of passion prove.
And pant those feelings to impart
Of sacred, unrequited love!
, i. saw that heart consum'd by care
And wither'd in its early glow,
'Till anguish deep, and fell despair,
flad laid each warm emotion low.
ISfe ME5WPS.
The tear that sparkled in thine tye,
The grief that filPd thy youthful breast,
The secret throb the bursting sigh
Are now for ever laid at rest.
The cold clay shrouds that lovely form li
Which filPd each heart with fond surpriscj
And Death hath rifled ev'ry charm.
And closed those once expressive eyes.
.naj ha A
Oft at the silent Bfiidnight hour'*"^-^ ".'-^
When all is wrapp*d in calm repose,
.'->: vihn'ji himyjiiUr/ Yth wee 'I
I steal tlnto thy fav'rite bower
To weep and sorrow o'er thy woes.
Not mine the pow'r those woes t\) heal, -^
Or bid thy sorr.ows flow no more, , ..
SIS/) vu i> myenua iit/u. miii ws>
:ould but all thy anguish feel,
I could but pity and deplore.
POEMfiO^ 1871
Soft be thy slumbers, lovely flower I
Soft as the falling dews of nighty
,-r<:;t| ?i if'fiib fid) oJoTcf ?i itoq^ sdT '
And sooij a more propitious hour
--j> : n nf;''--'j7<' T'r.u -mm j'^ hah.
Shall call thee to a scene of light.
-vno^ "io itifgfloHl iBdi worf !dO
And when you reach yon starry throne -isihid
Where bliss eternal waits to crown thee.
Think on the friends you've left alone
Think on tlv3 hearts that still shall ovm thee!
; . i aqod oa bhi^ n^O
. y iTo J ' piwi* iaixf) J(xa 9ifii) I
Wlien gazing on my silent name ^^hfilq on iaB I
In some succeeding year, '"' ^^
Ah! may its fond remembrance claimjifijio iinT
The tribute of a tearj gJi aif ts9ld i^vfjn W&A?*
And when reflection calls to view
The hearts that lov'd thee best.
Then may my name be mingled too.
In sadness with the rest.
1B8 posani^
6N PARTING^6mifkx<\l lh\ A
d",
.t(I:;,rf: '^'. -^'^ifi Tjrrilffi^ Sift 2r fioP
The spell is broke the dream is past,
And we must part love ^part at last-^
Oh! how that thought of agony
Strikes on tkus Hssurt thaft ii^or^ip^thciel -
The tear that trembles in thine eye
Like dew-drop from the ev*ning sky,
!t3oii} nvfo lUdi iiiJa . Jflo ^i^ufl'
Can yield no hope to memory
I dare not think 'twas shed for me.
I ask no pledge to soothe my hear^iisc^ hstVfJ
No fond memorial ere we part-*- mm nl
This breast that aches so silently
Shall never breathe its griefs to thee! i'ia^^-^ii i'
But when from those lov*d scenes I fly
To dwell beneath a darker sky.
Say, wilt thou ever think of me,.
"When I am distant far from thif ? -
POEM& 189
ELEGIAC LINES.
I see the death-flower sweetly rise
Upon the green earth's grassy bed,
I feel the uight-wind's hollow st^ '
Steal o'er the mansions of the dead.
That manly form of brightest mould.
Those eyes that gleam'd with fond desire.
That form is faded now and cold, . .. ^
And quench*d those orbs of liquid firei
The heart that once beat high with love.
That thriird with fancy's secret glow, ^
The soul that lov'd to soar above.
Nor mt<. with those that liv'd below;
That heart is wither'd, cold, and dead.
Its youthful pulse has ceas'd to beat,
That soul to brighter realms has fled.
Its kindred spirits there to meet!
z
^b POE51&.
The tear that falls from beauty's eye
No more shall dew his faded brow,
The soft vibration of her sigh
Shall uever never reach him now !
> t
How oft at eve I've seen him rove
Beneath the moonshine's silver gleam,
Lost victim of ungrateful love,
Thy joys are faded like its beam !
And oft I've mark'd the inward sigh
Burst wildly from his throbbing breast,
he tear of bitter agony
That strove but would not be repress'd.
When laid upon the bed of death
I mark'd the smile that deck'd his face,
And thought some wandering spirit's breath..
Had brought to life each wither'd grace!
POEMS.: 19X
Oh! hallow'd be the peaceful tomb
Wherein his relics are interr'd,
No sounds shall break the dreary gloom,
No murmurs o'er his grave be heard!
Yet oft the tear from friendship's eye
Shall dew the grave-flower o'er his iead,
And still affection's latest sigh
Be breath'd upon his hallow'd bed.
LINES.
Have you not seen the summer day
Deform'd by unexpected showers?
Have you not seen the rosy spray
Despoil'd of all its blooming flowers?
Thus changeful hitherto has been
My solitary span of years,
Unbless'd by one unclouded scene,
A lonely waste of hopes'and fears!
192 POEMS.
*Tis not the tear in secret shed
From faded eyes with son-ow streaming,
*Tis not the sigh for pleasures fled
While joy is in the glances beaming.
Can paint the breast's convulsive throb,
Or tell the bosom's secret anguish,
Tlie silent, deep, soul-rending sob,
That leaves the sorrow'd heart to languish.
When laid within the silent grave.
The winds of Heav'n around me sighing,
With nought to cheer the darkness, save
The midnight breeze in murmurs dying ;
Oh! then this heart from grief shall rest
And all its pangs and cares be over.
Within the cold grave's cheerless breast
Shall lie the truest, fondest lover I
POlMS. ' 19s
To
Why do I love thy soft blue eye
Since others boast as bright?
Ah! Delia 'tis because I spy
In thine, the spirit's light!
Why do I love thy blooming cheek
When others s em as fair?
Ah! Delia! ^but 'twere vain to seek
The light that lingers there.
Why do I gaze upon thy form
Where many rove as light?
Ah! Delia, thine alone can charm
Though myriads bless my sight.
Why do 1 muse, and pensive sigh.
When all around are gay?
Ah! Delia, must I tell thee why?-
Perchance thou'rt far away!
ELEGIAC LINES.
When fate hath cut each tender tie
That binds niy wither'd heart to life,
And hush'd is ev'ry turbid sigh "
And clos'd at once this, scene df jstrife^ '
Oh! let me rest in yonder bed,
Where flowrets ever soft and fair.
May bloom upon my wearied head
And fling their sweetness on the air.
How sweet is hope's delusive ray
To those who in affliction weep,
Yet sweeter is the close of day
When all their sorrows sink in slee^ !
If long and sound that slumber be
That soothes the weary wanderer's breast.
Oh! may that sleep descend on me
And lull me to eternal rest!
POEMS. 195
ON LEA VING
Oft in my lonely wanderings kere
When musing sad on human pride,
I've shed th* involuntary tear
O'er blasted hopes, or joys denied;
Yet trust me, never did I feel
A keener throb unnerve my heart.
Than now when tears unbidden steal.
To tell me, we must part ^must part!
Oh ! thus it ever yet has been
In all my happiest hours of joy.
Some luckless spell would intervene
And all my treasured hopes destroy.
Ev'n here where fancy wild and free.
Has dwelt beneath affection's beam.
Some thought would steal on memory,
And tell me it was but a dream !
196 POEMS.
A dream indeed and soon alas! ^ :
It fled nor left a lingering ray,
Like morning beams that swiftly pass,
Without a trace to mark their way.
Yet cold and dead this heart mlist be.
And lost to sweet affections tear.
When it shall cease to think of thee.
And all the friends I cherish here.
. Farewell ! and when in distant climes
If chance should bid my footsteps rove,
The dream of those remembered times
Will lead me to tlie friends I love !
in vl
And when at length my life is past.
And all my joy and sorrow's o*er^ ..
My wounded spirit free at last.
Shall fly to thine and part no more.
J. KIKKWOOr, rtinter.
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY
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