________________________________________________
_ The tone of melancholy defiance in which these words were uttered went to LALLA ROOKH'S heart;--and as she reluctantly rode on she could not help feeling it to be a sad but still sweet certainty that FERAMORZ was to the full as enamored and miserable as herself.
The place where they encamped that evening was the first delightful spot they had come to since they left Lahore. On one side of them was a grove full of small Hindoo temples and planted with the most graceful trees of the East, where the tamarind, the cassia, and the silken plantains of Ceylon were mingled in rich contrast with the high fan-like foliage of the Palmyra,--that favorite tree of the luxurious bird that lights up the chambers of its nest with fire-flies.[188]. In the middle of the lawn where the pavilion stood there was a tank surrounded by small mango-trees on the clear cold waters of which floated multitudes of the beautiful red lotus,[189] while at a distance stood the ruins of a strange and awful- looking tower which seemed old enough to have been the temple of some religion no longer known and which spoke the voice of desolation in the midst of all that bloom and loveliness. This singular ruin excited the wonder and conjectures of all. LALLA ROOKH guessed in vain, and the all- pretending FADLADEEN who had never till this journey been beyond the precincts of Delhi was proceeding most learnedly to show that he knew nothing whatever about the matter, when one of the Ladies suggested that perhaps FERAMORZ could satisfy their curiosity. They were now approaching his native mountains and this tower might perhaps be a relic of some of those dark superstitions which had prevailed in that country before the light of Islam dawned upon it. The Chamberlain who usually preferred his own ignorance to the best knowledge that any one else could give him was by no means pleased with this officious reference, and the Princess too was about to interpose a faint word of objection, but before either of them could speak a slave was despatched for FERAMORZ, who in a very few minutes made his appearance before them--looking so pale and unhappy in LALLA ROOKH'S eyes that she repented already of her cruelty in having so long excluded him.
That venerable tower he told them was the remains of an ancient Fire- Temple, built by those Ghebers or Persians of the old religion, who many hundred years since had fled hither from the Arab conquerors, preferring liberty and their altars in a foreign land to the alternative of apostasy or persecution in their own. It was impossible, he added, not to feel interested in the many glorious but unsuccessful struggles which had been made by these original natives of Persia to cast off the yoke of their bigoted conquerors. Like their own Fire in the Burning Field at Bakou when suppressed in one place they had but broken out with fresh flame in another; and as a native of Cashmere, of that fair and Holy Valley which had in the same manner become the prey of strangers[190] and seen her ancient shrines and native princes swept away before the march of her intolerant invaders he felt a sympathy, he owned, with the sufferings of the persecuted Ghebers which every monument like this before them but tended more powerfully to awaken.
It was the first time that FERAMORZ had ever ventured upon so much _prose_ before FADLADEEN and it may easily be conceived what effect such prose as this must have produced upon that most orthodox and most pagan- hating personage. He sat for some minutes aghast, ejaculating only at intervals, "Bigoted conquerors!--sympathy with Fire-worshippers!"[191]-- while FERAMORZ happy to take advantage of this almost speechless horror of the Chamberlain proceeded to say that he knew a melancholy story connected with the events of one of those struggles of the brave Fire-worshippers against their Arab masters, which if the evening was not too far advanced he should have much pleasure in being allowed to relate to the Princess. It was impossible for LALLA ROOKH to refuse;--he had never before looked half so animated, and when he spoke of the Holy Valley his eyes had sparkled she thought like the talismanic characters on the scimitar of Solomon. Her consent was therefore most readily granted; and while FADLADEEN sat in unspeakable dismay, expecting treason and abomination in every line, the poet thus began his story of the Fire-worshippers:
THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS.
'Tis moonlight over OMAN'S SEA; [192]
Her banks of pearl and palmy isles
Bask in the night-beam beauteously
And her blue waters sleep in smiles.
'Tis moonlight in HARMOZIA'S[193] walls,
And through her EMIR'S porphyry halls
Where some hours since was heard the swell
Of trumpets and the clash of zel [194]
Bidding the bright-eyed sun farewell;--
The peaceful sun whom better suits
The music of the bulbul's nest
Or the light touch of lovers' lutes
To sing him to his golden rest.
All husht--there's not a breeze in motion;
The shore is silent as the ocean.
If zephyrs come, so light they come.
Nor leaf is stirred nor wave is driven;--
The wind-tower on the EMIR'S dome [195]
Can hardly win a breath from heaven.Even he, that tyrant Arab, sleeps
Calm, while a nation round him weeps,
While curses load the air he breathes
And falchions from unnumbered sheaths
Are starting to avenge the shame
His race hath brought on IRAN'S[196]name.
Hard, heartless Chief, unmoved alike
Mid eyes that weep and swords that strike;
One of that saintly, murderous brood,
To carnage and the Koran given,
Who think thro' unbelievers' blood
Lies their directest path to heaven,--
One who will pause and kneel unshod
In the warm blood his hand hath poured,
To mutter o'er some text of God
Engraven on his reeking sword; [197]
Nay, who can coolly note the line,
The letter of those words divine,
To which his blade with searching art
Had sunk into its victim's heart!
Just ALLA! what must be thy look
When such a wretch before thee stands
Unblushing, with thy Sacred Book,--
Turning the leaves with bloodstained hands,
And wresting from its page sublime
His creed of lust and hate and crime;--
Even as those bees of TREBIZOND,
Which from the sunniest flowers that glad
With their pure smile the gardens round,
Draw venom forth that drives men mad. [198]
Never did fierce Arabia send
A satrap forth more direly great;
Never was IRAN doomed to bend
Beneath a yoke of deadlier weight.
Her throne had fallen--her pride was crusht--
Her sons were willing slaves, nor blusht,
In their own land,--no more their own,--
To crouch beneath a stranger's throne.
Her towers where MITHRA once had burned.
To Moslem shrines--oh shame!--were turned,
Where slaves converted by the sword,
Their mean, apostate worship poured,
And curst the faith their sires adored.
Yet has she hearts, mid all this ill,
O'er all this wreck high buoyant still
With hope and vengeance;--hearts that yet--
Like gems, in darkness, issuing rays
They've treasured from the sun that's set,--
Beam all the light of long-lost days!
And swords she hath, nor weak nor slow
To second all such hearts can dare:
As he shall know, well, dearly know.
Who sleeps in moonlight luxury there,
Tranquil as if his spirit lay
Becalmed in Heaven's approving ray.
Sleep on--for purer eyes than thine
Those waves are husht, those planets shine;
Sleep on and be thy rest unmoved
By the white moonbeam's dazzling power;--
None but the loving and the loved
Should be awake at this sweet hour.
And see--where high above those rocks
That o'er the deep their shadows fling.
Yon turret stands;--where ebon locks,
As glossy as the heron's wing
Upon the turban of a king, [199]
Hang from the lattice, long and wild,--
'Tis she, that EMIR'S blooming child,
All truth and tenderness and grace,
Tho' born of such ungentle race;--
An image of Youth's radiant Fountain
Springing in a desolate mountain! [200]
Oh what a pure and sacred thing
Is Beauty curtained from the sight
Of the gross world, illumining
One only mansion with her light!
Unseen by man's disturbing eye,--
The flower that blooms beneath the sea,
Too deep for sunbeams, doth not lie
Hid in more chaste obscurity.
So, HINDA. have thy face and mind,
Like holy mysteries, lain enshrined.
And oh! what transport for a lover
To lift the veil that shades them o'er!--
Like those who all at once discover
In the lone deep some fairy shore
Where mortal never trod before,
And sleep and wake in scented airs
No lip had ever breathed but theirs.
Beautiful are the maids that glide
On summer-eves thro' YEMEN'S[201] dales,
And bright the glancing looks they hide
Behind their litters' roseate veils;--
And brides as delicate and fair
As the white jasmine flowers they wear,
Hath YEMEN in her blissful clime,
Who lulled in cool kiosk or bower, [202]
Before their mirrors count the time [203]
And grow still lovelier every hour.
But never yet hath bride or maid
In ARABY'S gay Haram smiled.
Whose boasted brightness would not fade
Before AL HASSAN'S blooming child.
Light as the angel shapes that bless
An infant's dream, yet not the less
Rich in all woman's loveliness;--
With eyes so pure that from their ray
Dark Vice would turn abasht away,
Blinded like serpents when they gaze
Upon the emerald's virgin blaze;-- [204]
Yet filled with all youth's sweet desires,
Mingling the meek and vestal fires
Of other worlds with all the bliss,
The fond, weak tenderness of this:
A soul too more than half divine,
Where, thro' some shades of earthly feeling,
Religion's softened glories shine,
Like light thro' summer foliage stealing,
Shedding a glow of such mild hue,
So warm and yet so shadowy too,
As makes the very darkness there
More beautiful than light elsewhere.
Such is the maid who at this hour
Hath risen from her restless sleep
And sits alone in that high bower,
Watching the still and shining deep.
Ah! 'twas not thus,--with tearful eyes
And beating heart,--she used to gaze
On the magnificent earth and skies,
In her own land, in happier days.
Why looks she now so anxious down
Among those rocks whose rugged frown
Blackens the mirror of the deep?
Whom waits she all this lonely night?
Too rough the rocks, too bold the steep,
For man to scale that turret's height!--
So deemed at least her thoughtful sire,
When high, to catch the cool night-air
After the day-beam's withering fire, [205]
He built her bower of freshness there,
And had it deckt with costliest skill
And fondly thought it safe as fair:--
Think, reverend dreamer! think so still,
Nor wake to learn what Love can dare;--
Love, all defying Love, who sees
No charm in trophies won with ease;--
Whose rarest, dearest fruits of bliss
Are plucked on Danger's precipice!
Bolder than they who dare not dive
For pearls but when the sea's at rest,
Love, in the tempest most alive,
Hath ever held that pearl the best
He finds beneath the stormiest water.
Yes, ARABY'S unrivalled daughter,
Tho' high that tower, that rock-way rude,
There's one who but to kiss thy cheek
Would climb the untrodden solitude
Of ARARAT'S tremendous peak, [206]
And think its steeps, tho' dark and dread,
Heaven's pathways, if to thee they led!
Even now thou seest the flashing spray,
That lights his oar's impatient way;--
Even now thou hearest the sudden shock
Of his swift bark against the rock,
And stretchest down thy arms of snow
As if to lift him from below!
Like her to whom at dead of night
The bridegroom with his locks of light [207]
Came in the flush of love and pride
And scaled the terrace of his bride;--
When as she saw him rashly spring,
And midway up in danger cling,
She flung him down her long black hair,
Exclaiming breathless, "There, love, there!"
And scarce did manlier nerve uphold
The hero ZAL in that fond hour,
Than wings the youth who, fleet and bold,
Now climbs the rocks to HINDA'S bower.
See-light as up their granite steeps
The rock-goats of ARABIA clamber, [208]
Fearless from crag to crag he leaps,
And now is in the maiden's chamber.
She loves--but knows not whom she loves,
Nor what his race, nor whence he came;--
Like one who meets in Indian groves
Some beauteous bird without a name;
Brought by the last ambrosial breeze
From isles in the undiscovered seas,
To show his plumage for a day
To wondering eyes and wing away!
Will he thus fly--her nameless lover?
ALLA forbid! 'twas by a moon
As fair as this, while singing over
Some ditty to her soft Kanoon,
Alone, at this same witching hour,
She first beheld his radiant eyes
Gleam thro' the lattice of the bower,
Where nightly now they mix their sighs;
And thought some spirit of the air
(For what could waft a mortal there?)
Was pausing on his moonlight way
To listen to her lonely lay!
This fancy ne'er hath left her mind:
And--tho', when terror's swoon had past,
She saw a youth of mortal kind
Before her in obeisance cast,--
Yet often since, when he hath spoken
Strange, awful words,--and gleams have broken
From his dark eyes, too bright to bear,
Oh! she hath feared her soul was given
To some unhallowed child of air,
Some erring spirit cast from heaven,
Like those angelic youths of old
Who burned for maids of mortal mould,
Bewildered left the glorious skies
And lost their heaven for woman's eyes.
Fond girl! nor fiend nor angel he
Who woos thy young simplicity;
But one of earth's impassioned sons,
As warm in love, as fierce in ire
As the best heart whose current runs
Full of the Day-God's living fire.
But quenched to-night that ardor seems,
And pale his cheek and sunk his brow;--
Never before but in her dreams
Had she beheld him pale as now:
And those were dreams of troubled sleep
From which 'twas joy to wake and weep;
Visions that will not be forgot,
But sadden every waking scene
Like warning ghosts that leave the spot
All withered where they once have been.
"How sweetly," said the trembling maid,
Of her own gentle voice afraid,
So long had they in silence stood
Looking upon that tranquil flood--
"How sweetly does the moonbeam smile
"To-night upon yon leafy isle!
"Oft, in my fancy's wanderings,
"I've wisht that little isle had wings,
"And we within its fairy bowers
"Were wafted off to seas unknown,
"Where not a pulse should beat but ours,
"And we might live, love, die, alone!
"Far from the cruel and the cold,--
"Where the bright eyes of angels only
"Should come around us to behold
"A paradise so pure and lonely.
"Would this be world enough for thee?"--
Playful she turned that he might see
The passing smile her cheek put on;
But when she markt how mournfully
His eye met hers, that smile was gone;
And bursting into heart-felt tears,
"Yes, yes," she cried, "my hourly fears,
"My dreams have boded all too right--
"We part--for ever part--tonight!
"I knew, I knew it _could_ not last--
"'Twas bright, 'twas heavenly, but 'tis past!
"Oh! ever thus from childhood's hour
"I've seen my fondest hopes decay;
"I never loved a tree or flower,
"But 'twas the first to fade away.
"I never nurst a dear gazelle
"To glad me with its soft black eye
"But when it came to know me well
"And love me it was sure to die I
"Now too--the joy most like divine
"Of all I ever dreamt or knew,
"To see thee, hear thee, call thee mine,--
"Oh misery! must I lose _that_ too?
"Yet go--on peril's brink we meet;--
"Those frightful rocks--that treacherous sea--
"No, never come again--tho' sweet,
"Tho' heaven, it may be death to thee.
"Farewell--and blessings on thy way,
"Where'er thou goest, beloved stranger!
"Better to sit and watch that ray
"And think thee safe, tho' far away,
"Than have thee near me and in danger!"
"Danger!--oh, tempt me not to boast"--
The youth exclaimed--"thou little know'st
"What he can brave, who, born and nurst
"In Danger's paths, has dared her worst;
"Upon whose ear the signal-word
"Of strife and death is hourly breaking;
"Who sleeps with head upon the sword
"His fevered hand must grasp in waking.
"Danger!"--
"Say on--thou fearest not then,
"And we may meet--oft meet again?"
"Oh! look not so--beneath the skies
"I now fear nothing but those eyes.
"If aught on earth could charm or force
"My spirit from its destined course,--
"If aught could make this soul forget
"The bond to which its seal is set,
"'Twould be those eyes;--they, only they,
"Could melt that sacred seal away!
"But no--'tis fixt--_my_ awful doom
"Is fixt--on this side of the tomb
"We meet no more;--why, why did Heaven
"Mingle two souls that earth has riven,
"Has rent asunder wide as ours?
"Oh, Arab maid, as soon the Powers
"Of Light and Darkness may combine.
"As I be linkt with thee or thine!
"Thy Father"--
"Holy ALLA save
"His gray head from that lightning glance!
"Thou knowest him not--he loves the brave;
"Nor lives there under heaven's expanse
"One who would prize, would worship thee
"And thy bold spirit more than he.
"Oft when in childhood I have played
"With the bright falchion by his side,
"I've heard him swear his lisping maid
"In time should be a warrior's bride.
"And still whene'er at Haram hours
"I take him cool sherbets and flowers,
"He tells me when in playful mood
"A hero shall my bridegroom be,
"Since maids are best in battle wooed,
"And won with shouts of victory!
"Nay, turn not from me--thou alone
"Art formed to make both hearts thy own.
"Go--join his sacred ranks--thou knowest
"The unholy strife these Persians wage:--
"Good Heaven, that frown!--even now thou glowest
"With more than mortal warrior's rage.
"Haste to the camp by morning's light,
"And when that sword is raised in fight,
"Oh still remember, Love and I
"Beneath its shadow trembling lie!
"One victory o'er those Slaves of Fire,
"Those impious Ghebers whom my sire
"Abhors"--
"Hold, hold--thy words are death"--
The stranger cried as wild he flung
His mantle back and showed beneath
The Gheber belt that round him clung.-- [209]
"Here, maiden, look--weep--blush to see
"All that thy sire abhors in me!
"Yes--_I_ am of that impious race,
"Those Slaves of Fire who, morn and even,
"Hail their Creator's dwelling-place
"Among the living lights of heaven: [210]
"Yes--_I_ am of that outcast few,
"To IRAN and to vengeance true,
"Who curse the hour your Arabs came
"To desolate our shrines of flame,
"And swear before God's burning eye
"To break our country's chains or die!
"Thy bigot sire,--nay, tremble not,--
"He who gave birth to those dear eyes
"With me is sacred as the spot
"From which our fires of worship rise!
"But know--'twas he I sought that night,
"When from my watch-boat on the sea
"I caught this turret's glimmering light,
"And up the rude rocks desperately
"Rusht to my prey--thou knowest the rest--
"I climbed the gory vulture's nest,
"And found a trembling dove within;--
"Thine, thine the victory--thine the sin--
"If Love hath made one thought his own,
"That Vengeance claims first--last--alone!
"Oh? had we never, never met,
"Or could this heart even now forget
"How linkt, how blest we might have been,
"Had fate not frowned so dark between!
"Hadst thou been born a Persian maid,
"In neighboring valleys had we dwelt,
"Thro' the same fields in childhood played,
"At the same kindling altar knelt,--
"Then, then, while all those nameless ties
"In which the charm of Country lies
"Had round our hearts been hourly spun,
"Till IRAN'S cause and thine were one;
"While in thy lute's awakening sigh
"I heard the voice of days gone by,
"And saw in every smile of thine
"Returning hours of glory shine;--
"While the wronged Spirit of our Land
"Lived, lookt, and spoke her wrongs thro' thee,--
"God! who could then this sword withstand?
"Its very flash were victory!
"But now--estranged, divorced for ever,
"Far as the grasp of Fate can sever;
"Our only ties what love has wove,--
"In faith, friends, country, sundered wide;
"And then, then only, true to love,
"When false to all that's dear beside!
"Thy father IKAN'S deadliest foe--
"Thyself, perhaps, even now--but no--
"Hate never looked so lovely yet!
No--sacred to thy soul will be
"The land of him who could forget
"All but that bleeding land for thee.
"When other eyes shall see, unmoved,
"Her widows mourn, her warriors fall,
"Thou'lt think how well one Gheber loved.
"And for _his_ sake thou'lt weep for all!
"But look"--
With sudden start he turned
And pointed to the distant wave
Where lights like charnel meteors burned
Bluely as o'er some seaman's grave;
And fiery darts at intervals [211]
Flew up all sparkling from the main
As if each star that nightly falls
Were shooting back to heaven again.
"My signal lights!--I must away--
"Both, both are ruined, if I stay.
"Farewell--sweet life! thou clingest in vain--
"Now, Vengeance, I am thine again!"
Fiercely he broke away, nor stopt,
Nor lookt--but from the lattice dropt
Down mid the pointed crags beneath
As if he fled from love to death.
While pale and mute young HINDA stood,
Nor moved till in the silent flood
A momentary plunge below
Startled her from her trance of woe;--
Shrieking she to the lattice flew,
"I come--I come--if in that tide
"Thou sleepest to-night, I'll sleep there too
"In death's cold wedlock by thy side.
"Oh! I would ask no happier bed
"Than the chill wave my love lies under:--
"Sweeter to rest together dead,
"Far sweeter than to live asunder!"
But no--their hour is not yet come--
Again she sees his pinnace fly,
Wafting him fleetly to his home,
Where'er that ill-starred home may lie;
And calm and smooth it seemed to win
Its moonlight way before the wind
As if it bore all peace within
Nor left one breaking heart behind!
The Princess whose heart was sad enough already could have wished that FERAMORZ had chosen a less melancholy story; as it is only to the happy that tears are a luxury. Her Ladies however were by no means sorry that love was once more the Poet's theme; for, whenever he spoke of love, they said, his voice was as sweet as if he had chewed the leaves of that enchanted tree, which grows over the tomb of the musician, Tan-Sein.[212]
Their road all the morning had lain through a very dreary country;-- through valleys, covered with a low bushy jungle, where in more than one place the awful signal of the bamboo staff[213] with the white flag at its top reminded the traveller that in that very spot the tiger had made some human creature his victim. It was therefore with much pleasure that they arrived at sunset in a safe and lovely glen and encamped under one of those holy trees whose smooth columns and spreading roofs seem to destine them for natural temples of religion. Beneath this spacious shade some pious hands had erected a row of pillars ornamented with the most beautiful porcelain[214] which now supplied the use of mirrors to the young maidens as they adjusted their hair in descending from the palankeens. Here while as usual the Princess sat listening anxiously with FADLADEEN in one of his loftiest moods of criticism by her side the young Poet leaning against a branch of the tree thus continued his story:--
The morn hath risen clear and calm
And o'er the Green Sea[215] palely shines,
Revealing BAHREIN'S groves of palm
And lighting KISHMA'S amber vines.
Fresh smell the shores of ARABY,
While breezes from the Indian sea
Blow round SELAMA'S[216] sainted cape
And curl the shining flood beneath,--
Whose waves are rich with many a grape
And cocoa-nut and flowery wreath
Which pious seamen as they past
Had toward that holy headland cast--
Oblations to the Genii there
For gentle skies and breezes fair!
The nightingale now bends her flight [217]
From the high trees where all the night
She sung so sweet with none to listen;
And hides her from the morning star
Where thickets of pomegranate glisten
In the clear dawn,--bespangled o'er
With dew whose night-drops would not stain
The best and brightest scimitar [218]
That ever youthful Sultan wore
On the first morning of his reign.
And see--the Sun himself!--on wings
Of glory up the East he springs.
Angel of Light! who from the time
Those heavens began their march sublime,
Hath first of all the starry choir
Trod in his Maker's steps of fire!
Where are the days, thou wondrous sphere,
When IRAN, like a sun-flower, turned
To meet that eye where'er it burned?--
When from the banks of BENDEMEER
To the nut-groves of SAMARCAND
Thy temples flamed o'er all the land?
Where are they? ask the shades of them
Who, on CADESSIA'S[219] bloody plains,
Saw fierce invaders pluck the gem
From IRAN'S broken diadem,
And bind her ancient faith in chains:--
Ask the poor exile cast alone
On foreign shores, unloved, unknown,
Beyond the Caspian's Iron Gates,
Or on the snowy Mossian mountains,
Far from his beauteous land of dates,
Her jasmine bowers and sunny fountains:
Yet happier so than if he trod
His own beloved but blighted sod
Beneath a despot stranger's nod!--
Oh, he would rather houseless roam
Where Freedom and his God may lead,
Than be the sleekest slave at home
That crouches to the conqueror's creed!
Is IRAN'S pride then gone for ever,
Quenched with the flame in MITHRA'S caves?
No--she has sons that never--never--
Will stoop to be the Moslem's slaves
While heaven has light or earth has graves;--
Spirits of fire that brood not long
But flash resentment back for wrong;
And hearts where, slow but deep, the seeds
Of vengeance ripen into deeds,
Till in some treacherous hour of calm
They burst like ZEILAN'S giant palm [220]
Whose buds fly open with a sound
That shakes the pigmy forests round!
Yes, EMIR! he, who scaled that tower,
And had he reached thy slumbering breast
Had taught thee in a Gheber's power
How safe even tyrant heads may rest--
Is one of many, brave as he,
Who loathe thy haughty race and thee;
Who tho' they knew the strife is vain,
Who tho' they know the riven chain
Snaps but to enter in the heart
Of him who rends its links apart,
Yet dare the issue,--blest to be
Even for one bleeding moment free
And die in pangs of liberty!
Thou knowest them well--'tis some moons since
Thy turbaned troops and blood-red flags,
Thou satrap of a bigot Prince,
Have swarmed among these Green Sea crags;
Yet here, even here, a sacred band
Ay, in the portal of that land
Thou, Arab, darest to call thy own,
Their spears across thy path have thrown;
Here--ere the winds half winged thee o'er--
Rebellion braved thee from the shore.
Rebellion! foul, dishonoring word,
Whose wrongful blight so oft has stained
The holiest cause that tongue or sword
Of mortal ever lost or gained.
How many a spirit born to bless
Hath sunk beneath that withering name,
Whom but a day's, an hour's success
Had wafted to eternal fame!
As exhalations when they burst
From the warm earth if chilled at first,
If checkt in soaring from the plain
Darken to fogs and sink again;--
But if they once triumphant spread
Their wings above the mountain-head,
Become enthroned in upper air,
And turn to sun-bright glories there!
And who is he that wields the might
Of Freedom on the Green Sea brink,
Before whose sabre's dazzling light [221]
The eyes of YEMEN'S warriors wink?
Who comes embowered in the spears
Of KERMAN'S hardy mountaineers?
Those mountaineers that truest, last,
Cling to their country's ancient rites,
As if that God whose eyelids cast
Their closing gleam on IRAN'S heights,
Among her snowy mountains threw
The last light of his worship too!
'Tis HAFED--name of fear, whose sound
Chills like the muttering of a charm!--
Shout but that awful name around,
And palsy shakes the manliest arm.
'Tis HAFED, most accurst and dire
(So rankt by Moslem hate and ire)
Of all the rebel Sons of Fire;
Of whose malign, tremendous power
The Arabs at their mid-watch hour
Such tales of fearful wonder tell
That each affrighted sentinel
Pulls down his cowl upon his eyes,
Lest HAFED in the midst should rise!
A man, they say, of monstrous birth,
A mingled race of flame and earth,
Sprung from those old, enchanted kings [222]
Who in their fairy helms of yore
A feather from the mystic wings
Of the Simoorgh resistless wore;
And gifted by the Fiends of Fire,
Who groaned to see their shrines expire
With charms that all in vain withstood
Would drown the Koran's light in blood!
Such were the tales that won belief,
And such the coloring Fancy gave
To a young, warm, and dauntless Chief,--
One who, no more than mortal brave,
Fought for the land his soul adored,
For happy homes and altars free,--
His only talisman, the sword,
His only spell-word, Liberty!
One of that ancient hero line,
Along whose glorious current shine
Names that have sanctified their blood:
As LEBANON'S small mountain-flood
Is rendered holy by the ranks
Of sainted cedars on its banks. [223]
'Twas not for him to crouch the knee
Tamely to Moslem tyranny;
'Twas not for him whose soul was cast
In the bright mould of ages past,
Whose melancholy spirit fed
With all the glories of the dead
Tho' framed for IRAN'S happiest years.
Was born among her chains and tears!--
'Twas not for him to swell the crowd
Of slavish heads, that shrinking bowed
Before the Moslem as he past
Like shrubs beneath the poison-blast--
No--far he fled--indignant fled
The pageant of his country's shame;
While every tear her children shed
Fell on his soul like drops of flame;
And as a lover hails the dawn
Of a first smile, so welcomed he
The sparkle of the first sword drawn
For vengeance and for liberty!
But vain was valor--vain the flower
Of KERMAN, in that deathful hour,
Against AL HASSAN'S whelming power.--
In vain they met him helm to helm
Upon the threshold of that realm
He came in bigot pomp to sway,
And with their corpses blockt his way--
In vain--for every lance they raised
Thousands around the conqueror blazed;
For every arm that lined their shore
Myriads of slaves were wafted o'er,--
A bloody, bold, and countless crowd,
Before whose swarm as fast they bowed
As dates beneath the locust cloud.
There stood--but one short league away
From old HARMOZIA'S sultry bay--
A rocky mountain o'er the Sea--
Of OMAN beetling awfully; [224]
A last and solitary link
Of those stupendous chains that reach
From the broad Caspian's reedy brink
Down winding to the Green Sea beach.
Around its base the bare rocks stood
Like naked giants, in the flood
As if to guard the Gulf across;
While on its peak that braved the sky
A ruined Temple towered so high
That oft the sleeping albatross [225]
Struck the wild ruins with her wing,
And from her cloud-rockt slumbering
Started--to find man's dwelling there
In her own silent fields of air!
Beneath, terrific caverns gave
Dark welcome to each stormy wave
That dasht like midnight revellers in;--
And such the strange, mysterious din
At times throughout those caverns rolled,--
And such the fearful wonders told
Of restless sprites imprisoned there,
That bold were Moslem who would dare
At twilight hour to steer his skiff
Beneath the Gheber's lonely cliff. [226]
On the land side those towers sublime,
That seemed above the grasp of Time,
Were severed from the haunts of men
By a wide, deep, and wizard glen,
So fathomless, so full of gloom,
No eye could pierce the void between:
It seemed a place where Ghouls might come
With their foul banquets from the tomb
And in its caverns feed unseen.
Like distant thunder, from below
The sound of many torrents came,
Too deep for eye or ear to know
If 'twere the sea's imprisoned flow,
Or floods of ever-restless flame.
For each ravine, each rocky spire
Of that vast mountain stood on fire; [227]
And tho' for ever past the days
When God was worshipt in the blaze--
That from its lofty altar shone,--
Tho' fled the priests, the votaries gone,
Still did the mighty flame burn on, [228]
Thro' chance and change, thro' good and ill,
Like its own God's eternal will,
Deep, constant, bright, unquenchable!
Thither the vanquisht HAFED led
His little army's last remains;--
"Welcome, terrific glen!" he said,
"Thy gloom, that Eblis' self might dread,
"Is Heaven to him who flies from chains!"
O'er a dark, narrow bridge-way known
To him and to his Chiefs alone
They crost the chasm and gained the towers;--
"This home," he cried, "at least is ours;
"Here we may bleed, unmockt by hymns
"Of Moslem triumph o'er our head;
"Here we may fall nor leave our limbs
"To quiver to the Moslem's tread.
"Stretched on this rock while vultures' beaks
"Are whetted on our yet warm cheeks,
"Here--happy that no tyrant's eye
"Gloats on our torments--we may die!"--
'Twas night when to those towers they came,
And gloomily the fitful flame
That from the ruined altar broke
Glared on his features as he spoke:--
"'Tis o'er--what men could do, we've done--
"If IRAN _will_ look tamely on
"And see her priests, her warriors driven
"Before a sensual bigot's nod,
"A wretch who shrines his lusts in heaven
"And makes a pander of his God;
"If her proud sons, her high-born souls,
"Men in whose veins--oh last disgrace!
"The blood of ZAL and RUSTAM[229] rolls.--
"If they _will_ court this upstart race
"And turn from MITHRA'S ancient ray
"To kneel at shrines of yesterday;
"If they _will_ crouch to IRAN'S foes,
"Why, let them--till the land's despair
"Cries out to Heaven, and bondage grows
"Too vile for even the vile to bear!
"Till shame at last, long hidden, burns
"Their inmost core, and conscience turns
"Each coward tear the slave lets fall
"Back on his heart in drops of gall.
"But here at least are arms unchained
"And souls that thraldom never stained;--
"This spot at least no foot of slave
"Or satrap ever yet profaned,
"And tho' but few--tho' fast the wave
"Of life is ebbing from our veins,
"Enough for vengeance still remains.
"As panthers after set of sun
"Rush from the roots of LEBANON
"Across the dark sea-robber's way, [230]
"We'll bound upon our startled prey.
"And when some hearts that proudest swell
"Have felt our falchion's last farewell,
"When Hope's expiring throb is o'er
"And even Despair can prompt no more,
"This spot shall be the sacred grave
"Of the last few who vainly brave
"Die for the land they cannot save!"
His Chiefs stood round--each shining blade
Upon the broken altar laid--
And tho' so wild and desolate
Those courts where once the Mighty sate:
Nor longer on those mouldering towers
Was seen the feast of fruits and flowers
With which of old the Magi fed
The wandering Spirits of their Dead; [231]
Tho' neither priest nor rites were there,
Nor charmed leaf of pure pomegranate, [232]
Nor hymn, nor censer's fragrant air,
Nor symbol of their worshipt planet; [233]
Yet the same God that heard their sires
Heard _them_ while on that altar's fires
They swore the latest, holiest deed
Of the few hearts, still left to bleed,
Should be in IRAN'S injured name
To die upon that Mount of Flame--
The last of all her patriot line,
Before her last untrampled Shrine!
Brave, suffering souls! they little knew
How many a tear their injuries drew
From one meek maid, one gentle foe,
Whom love first touched with others' woe--
Whose life, as free from thought as sin,
Slept like a lake till Love threw in
His talisman and woke the tide
And spread its trembling circles wide.
Once, EMIR! thy unheeding child
Mid all this havoc bloomed and smiled,--
Tranquil as on some battle plain
The Persian lily shines and towers [234]
Before the combat's reddening stain
Hath fallen upon her golden flowers.
Light-hearted maid, unawed, unmoved,
While Heaven but spared the sire she loved,
Once at thy evening tales of blood
Unlistening and aloof she stood--
And oft when thou hast paced along
Thy Haram halls with furious heat,
Hast thou not curst her cheerful song,
That came across thee, calm and sweet,
Like lutes of angels touched so near
Hell's confines that the damned can hear!
Far other feelings Love hath brought--
Her soul all flame, her brow all sadness,
She now has but the one dear thought,
And thinks that o'er, almost to madness!
Oft doth her sinking heart recall
His words--"for _my_ sake weep for all;"
And bitterly as day on day
Of rebel carnage fast succeeds,
She weeps a lover snatched away
In every Gheber wretch that bleeds.
There's not a sabre meets her eye
But with his life-blood seems to swim;
There's not an arrow wings the sky
But fancy turns its point to him.
No more she brings with footsteps light
AL HASSAN's falchion for the fight;
And--had he lookt with clearer sight,
Had not the mists that ever rise
From a foul spirit dimmed his eyes--
He would have markt her shuddering frame,
When from the field of blood he came,
The faltering speech--the look estranged--
Voice, step and life and beauty changed--
He would have markt all this, and known
Such change is wrought by Love alone!
Ah! not the Love that should have blest
So young, so innocent a breast;
Not the pure, open, prosperous Love,
That, pledged on earth and sealed above,
Grows in the world's approving eyes,
In friendship's smile and home's caress,
Collecting all the heart's sweet ties
Into one knot of happiness!
No, HINDA, no,--thy fatal flame
Is nurst in silence, sorrow, shame;--
A passion without hope or pleasure,
In thy soul's darkness buried deep,
It lies like some ill-gotten treasure,--
Some idol without shrine or name,
O'er which its pale-eyed votaries keep
Unholy watch while others sleep.
Seven nights have darkened OMAN'S sea,
Since last beneath the moonlight ray
She saw his light oar rapidly
Hurry her Gheber's bark away,--
And still she goes at midnight hour
To weep alone in that high bower
And watch and look along the deep
For him whose smiles first made her weep;--
But watching, weeping, all was vain,
She never saw his bark again.
The owlet's solitary cry,
The night-hawk flitting darkly by,
And oft the hateful carrion bird,
Heavily flapping his clogged wing,
Which reeked with that day's banqueting--
Was all she saw, was all she heard.
'Tis the eighth morn--AL HASSAN'S brow
Is brightened with unusual joy--
What mighty mischief glads him now,
Who never smiles but to destroy?
The sparkle upon HERKEND'S Sea,
When tost at midnight furiously, [235]
Tells not of wreck and ruin nigh,
More surely than that smiling eye!
"Up, daughter, up--the KERNA'S[236] breath
"Has blown a blast would waken death,
"And yet thou sleepest--up, child, and see
"This blessed day for heaven and me,
"A day more rich in Pagan blood
"Than ever flasht o'er OMAN'S flood.
"Before another dawn shall shine,
"His head--heart--limbs--will all be mine;
"This very night his blood shall steep
"These hands all over ere I sleep!"--
"_His_ blood!" she faintly screamed--her mind
Still singling _one_ from all mankind--
"Yes--spite of his ravines and towers,
"HAFED, my child, this night is ours.
"Thanks to all-conquering treachery,
"Without whose aid the links accurst,
"That bind these impious slaves, would be
"Too strong for ALLA'S self to burst!
"That rebel fiend whose blade has spread
"My path with piles of Moslem dead,
"Whose baffling spells had almost driven
"Back from their course the Swords of Heaven,
"This night with all his band shall know
"How deep an Arab's steel can go,
"When God and Vengeance speed the blow.
"And--Prophet! by that holy wreath
"Thou worest on OHOD'S field of death, [237]
"I swear, for every sob that parts
"In anguish from these heathen hearts,
"A gem from PERSIA'S plundered mines
"Shall glitter on thy shrine of Shrines.
"But, ha!--she sinks--that look so wild--
"Those livid lips--my child, my child,
"This life of blood befits not thee,
"And thou must back to ARABY.
"Ne'er had I riskt thy timid sex
"In scenes that man himself might dread,
"Had I not hoped our every tread
"Would be on prostrate Persian necks--
"Curst race, they offer swords instead!
"But cheer thee, maid,--the wind that now
"Is blowing o'er thy feverish brow
"To-day shall waft thee from the shore;
"And ere a drop of this night's gore
"Have time to chill in yonder towers,
"Thou'lt see thy own sweet Arab bowers!"
His bloody boast was all too true;
There lurkt one wretch among the few
Whom HAFED'S eagle eye could count
Around him on that Fiery Mount,--
One miscreant who for gold betrayed
The pathway thro' the valley's shade
To those high towers where Freedom stood
In her last hold of flame and blood.
Left on the field last dreadful night,
When sallying from their sacred height
The Ghebers fought hope's farewell fight,
He lay--but died not with the brave;
That sun which should have gilt his grave
Saw him a traitor and a slave;--
And while the few who thence returned
To their high rocky fortress mourned
For him among the matchless dead
They left behind on glory's bed,
He lived, and in the face of morn
Laught them and Faith and
Heaven to scorn.
Oh for a tongue to curse the slave
Whose treason like a deadly blight
Comes o'er the councils of the brave
And blasts them in their hour of might!
May Life's unblessed cup for him
Be drugged with treacheries to the brim.--
With hopes that but allure to fly,
With joys that vanish while he sips,
Like Dead-Sea fruits that tempt the eye,
But turn to ashes on the lips! [238]
His country's curse, his children's shame,
Outcast of virtue, peace and fame,
May he at last with lips of flame
On the parched desert thirsting die,--
While lakes that shone in mockery nigh, [239]
Are fading off, untouched, untasted,
Like the once glorious hopes he blasted!
And when from earth his spirit flies,
Just Prophet, let the damned-one dwell
Full in the sight of Paradise
Beholding heaven and feeling hell!
NOTES:
[188] The Baya, or Indian Grosbeak.--_Sir W. Jones_.
[189] "Here is a large pagoda by a tank, on the water of which float multitudes of the beautiful red lotus: the flower is larger than that of the white water-lily, and is the most lovely of the nymphaeas I have seen."--_Mrs. Graham's_ Journal of a Residence in India.
[190] "Cashmere (says its historian) had its own princes 4000 years before its conquest by Akbar in 1585. Akbar would have found some difficulty to reduce this paradise of the Indies, situated as it is within such a fortress of mountains, but its monarch, Yusef-Khan, was basely betrayed by his Omrahs."--_Pennant_.
[191] Voltaire tells us that in his tragedy, "_Les Guebres_," he was generally supposed to have alluded to the Jansenists. I should not be surprised if this story of the Fire worshippers were found capable of a similar doubleness of application.
[192] The Persian Gulf, sometimes so called, which separates the shores of Persia and Arabia.
[193] The present Gombaroon, a town on the Persian side of the Gulf.
[194] A Moorish instrument of music.
[195] "At Gombaroon and other places in Persia, they have towers for the purpose of catching the wind and cooling the houses.--_Le Bruyn_.
[196] "Iran is the true general name for the empire of Persia.--_Asiat. Res. Disc. 5_.
[197] "On the blades of their scimitars some verse from the Koran is usually inscribed.--_Russel_.
[198] There is a kind of Rhododendros about Trebizond, whose flowers the bee feeds upon, and the honey thence drives people mad;"--_Tournefort_.
[199] Their kings wear plumes of black herons' feathers, upon the right side, as a badge of sovereignty "--_Hanway_.
[200] "The Fountain of Youth, by a Mahometan tradition, is situated in some dark region of the East."--_Richardson_.
[201] Arabia Felix.
[202] "In the midst of the garden is the chiosk, that is, a large room, commonly beautified with a fine fountain in the midst of it. It is raised nine or ten steps, and enclosed with gilded lattices, round which vines, jessamines, and honeysuckles, make a sort of green wall; large trees are planted round this place, which is the scene of their greatest pleasures."--_Lady M. W. Montagu_.
[203] The women of the East are never without their looking-glasses. "In Barbary," says _Shaw_, "they are so fond of their looking-glasses, which they hang upon their breasts, that they will not lay them aside, even when after the drudgery of the day they are obliged to go two or three miles with a pitcher or a goat's skin to fetch water."--_Travels_.
[204] "They say that if a snake or serpent fix his eyes on the lustre of those stones (emeralds), he immediately becomes blind."--_Ahmed ben Abdalaziz_, Treatise on Jewels.
[205] "At Gombaroon and the Isle of Ormus, it is sometimes so hot, that the people are obliged to lie all day in the water."--_Marco Polo_.
[206] This mountain is generally supposed to be inaccessible. _Struy_ says, "I can well assure the reader that their opinion is not true, who suppose this mount to be inaccessible." He adds, that "the lower part of the mountain is cloudy, misty, and dark, the middlemost part very cold, and like clouds of snow, but the upper regions perfectly calm."--It was on this mountain that the Ark was supposed to have rested after the Deluge, and part of it, they say, exists there still, which Struy thus gravely accounts for:--"Whereas none can remember that the air on the top of the hill did ever change or was subject either to wind or rain, which is presumed to be the reason that the Ark has endured so long without being rotten."--See _Carreri's_ Travels, where the Doctor laughs at this whole account of Mount Ararat.
[207] In one of the books of the Shah Nameh, when Zal (a celebrated hero of Persia, remarkable for his white hair,) comes to the terrace of his mistress Rodahver at night, she lets down her long tresses to assist him in his ascent;--he, however, manages it in a less romantic way by fixing his crook in a projecting beam.--See _Champion's_ Ferdosi.
[208] "On the lofty hills of Arabia Petraea, are rock-goats."--_Niebuhr_.
[209] "They (the Ghebers) lay so much stress on their cushee or girdle, as not to dare to be an instant without it."--_Grose's_ Voyage.
[210] "They suppose the Throne of the Almighty is seated in the sun, and hence their worship of that luminary."--_Hanway_.
[211] The Mameluks that were in the other boat, when it was dark used to shoot up a sort of fiery arrows into the air which in some measure resembled lightning or falling stars."--_Baumgarten_.
[212] "Within the enclosure which surrounds his monument (at Gualior) is a small tomb to the memory of Tan-Sein, a musician of incomparable skill, who flourished at the court of Akbar. The tomb is overshadowed by a tree, concerning which a superstitious notion prevails, that the chewing of its leaves will give an extraordinary melody to the voice."--_Narrative of a Journey from Agra to Ouzein, by W. Hunter, Esq_.
[213] "It is usual to place a small white triangular flag, fixed to a bamboo staff of ten or twelve feet long, at the place where a tiger has destroyed a man. It is common for the passengers also to throw each a stone or brick near the spot, so that in the course of a little time a pile equal to a good wagon-load is collected. The sight of these flags and piles of stones imparts a certain melancholy, not perhaps altogether void of apprehension."--_Oriental Field Sports_, vol. ii.
[214] "The Ficus Indica is called the Pagod Tree of Councils; the first, from the idols placed under its shade; the second, because meetings were held under its cool branches. In some places it is believed to be the haunt of spectres, as the ancient spreading oaks of Wales have been of fairies; in others are erected beneath the shade pillars of stone, or posts, elegantly carved, and ornamented with the most beautiful porcelain to supply the use of mirrors."--_Pennant_.
[215] The Persian Gulf.--"To dive for pearls in the Green Sea, or Persian Gulf."--_Sir W. Jones_.
[216] Or Selemeh, the genuine name of the headland at the entrance of the Gulf, commonly called Cape Musseldom. "The Indians when they pass the promontory throw cocoa-nuts, fruits, or flowers into the sea to secure a propitious voyage."--_Morier_.
[217] "The nightingale sings from the pomegranate-groves in the daytime and from the loftiest trees at night."--_Russel's_ "Aleppo."
[218] In speaking of the climate of Shiraz, Francklin says, "The dew is of such a pure nature, that if the brightest scimitar should be exposed to it all night, it would not receive the least rust."
[219] The place where the Persians were finally defeated by the Arabs, and their ancient monarchy destroyed.
[220] The Talpot or Talipot tree. "This beautiful palm-tree, which grows in the heart of the forests, may be classed among the loftiest trees, and becomes still higher when on the point of bursting forth from its leafy summit. The sheath which then envelopes the flower is very large, and, when it bursts, makes an explosion like the report of a cannon."-- _Thunberg_.
[221] "When the bright scimitars make the eyes of our heroes wink."--_The Moallakat, Poem of Amru_.
[222] Tahmuras, and other ancient Kings of Persia; whose adventures in Fairy-land among the Peris and Divs may be found in Richardson's curious Dissertation. The griffin Simoorgh, they say, took some feathers from her breast for Tahmuras, with which he adorned his helmet, and transmitted them afterwards to his descendants.
[223] This rivulet, says Dandini, is called the Holy River from the "cedar-saints" among which it rises.
[224] This mountain is my own creation, as the "stupendous chain," of which I suppose it a link, does not extend quite so far as the shores of the Persian Gulf.
[225] These birds sleep in the air. They are most common about the Cape of Good Hope.
[226] "There is an extraordinary hill in this neighborhood, called Kohe Gubr, or the Guebre's mountain. It rises in the form of a lofty cupola, and on the summit of it, they say, are the remains of an Atush Kudu or Fire Temple. It is superstitiously held to be the residence or Deeves or Sprites, and many marvellous stories are recounted of the injury and witchcraft suffered by those who essayed in former days to ascend or explore it."--_Pottinger's_ "Beloochistan."
[227] The Ghebers generally built their temples over subterraneous fires.
[228] "At the city of Yezd, in Persia, which is distinguished by the appellation of the Darub Abadut, or Seat of Religion, the Guebres are permitted to have an Atush Kudu or Fire Temple (which, they assert, has had the sacred fire in it since the days of Zoroaster) in their own compartment of the city; but for this indulgence they are indebted to the avarice, not the tolerance of the Persian government, which taxes them at twenty-five rupees each man."--_Pottinger's_ "Beloochistan."
[229] Ancient heroes of Persia. "Among the Guebres there are some who boast their descent from Rustam."--_Stephen's Persia_.
[230] See Russel's account of the panther's attacking travellers in the night on the sea-shore about the roots of Lebanon.
[231] "Among other ceremonies the Magi used to place upon the tops of high towers various kinds of rich viands, upon which it was supposed the Peris and the spirits of their departed heroes regaled themselves."-- _Richardson_.
[232] In the ceremonies of the Ghebers round their Fire, as described by Lord, "the Daroo," he says, "giveth them water to drink, and a pomegranate leaf to chew in the mouth, to cleanse them from inward uncleanness."
[233] "Early in the morning, they (the Parsees or Ghebers at Oulam) go in crowds to pay their devotions to the Sun, to whom upon all the altars there are spheres consecrated, made by magic, resembling the circles of the sun, and when the sun rises, these orbs seem to be inflamed, and to turn round with a great noise. They have every one a censer in their hands, and offer incense to the sun.'--_Rabbi Benjamin_.
[234] A vivid verdure succeeds the autumnal rains, and the ploughed fields are covered with the Persian lily, of a resplendent yellow color."-- _Russel's_ "Aleppo."
[235] It is observed, with respect to the Sea of Herkend, that when it is tossed by tempestuous winds it sparkles like fire."--_Travels of Two Mohammedans_.
[236] A kind of trumpet;--it "was that used by Tamerlane, the sound of which is described as uncommonly dreadful, and so loud as to be heard at a distance of several miles."--_Richardson_.
[237] "Mohammed had two helmets, an interior and exterior one; the latter of which, called Al Mawashah, the fillet, wreath, or wreathed garland, he wore at the battle of Ohod."--_Universal History_.
[238] "They say that there are apple-trees upon the sides of this sea, which bear very lovely fruit, but within are all full of ashes."-- _Thevenot_.
[239] "The Suhrab or Water of the Desert is said to be caused by the rarefaction of the atmosphere from extreme heat; and, which augments the delusion, it is most frequent in hollows, where water might be expected to lodge. I have seen bushes and trees reflected in it, with as much accuracy is though it had been the face of a clear and still lake."--_Pottinger_. _
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