Robert Southey

Thalaba
the destroyer
1801

Woodstock Books
Oxford and New York

Thalaba the Destroyer.

by
Robert Southey.

THE FIRST VOLUME.

LONDON:
PRINTED FOR T. N. LONGMAN AND O. REES, PATERNOSTER-ROW,
BY BIGGS AND COTTLE, BRISTOL.
1801.

CONTENTS

PREFACE

In the continuation of the Arabian Tales, the Domdaniel is mentioned; a Seminary for evil Magicians under the Roots of the Sea. From this seed the present Romance has grown. Let me not be supposed to prefer the metre in which it is written, abstractedly considered, to the regular blank verse; the noblest measure, in my judgement, of which our admirable language is capable. For the following Poem I have preferred it, because it suits the varied subject; it is the Arabesque ornament of an Arabian tale.

The dramatic sketches of Dr. Sayer, a volume which no lover of poetry will recollect without pleasure, induced me when a young versifier, to practise in this metre. I felt that while it gave the poet a wider range of expression, it satisfied the ear of the reader. It were easy to make a parade of learning by enumerating the various feet which it admits; it is only needful to observe that no two lines are employed in sequence which can be read into one. Two six-syllable lines (it will perhaps be answered) compose an Alexandrine: the truth is that the Alexandrine, when harmonious, is composed of two six-syllable lines.

One advantage this metre assuredly possesses; the dullest reader cannot distort it into discord: he may read it with a prose mouth, but its flow and fall will still be perceptible. Verse is not enough favoured by the English reader: perhaps this is owing to the obtrusiveness, the regular Jews-harp twing-twang, of what has been foolishly called heroic measure. I do not wish the improvisatorè tune, but something that denotes the sense of harmony, something like the accent of feeling; like the tone which every Poet necessarily gives to Poetry.

The First Book.

THALABA THE DESTROYER.

THE FIRST BOOK.

How beautiful is night!
A dewy freshness fills the silent air,
No mist obscures, no little cloud
Breaks the whole serene of heaven:
In full-orbed glory the majestic moon
Rolls thro the dark blue depths.
Beneath her steady ray
The desert circle spreads,
Like the round ocean, girdled with the sky.
How beautiful is night!

Who at this untimely hour
Wanders o’er the desert sands?
No station is in view,
No palm-grove islanded amid the waste.
The mother and her child,
The widow and the orphan at this hour
Wander o’er the desert sands.

Alas! the setting sun
Saw Zeinab in her bliss,
Hodeirah’s wife beloved.
Alas! the wife beloved,
The fruitful mother late,
Whom when the daughters of Arabia named
They wished their lot like her’s;
She wanders o’er the desert sands
A wretched widow now,
The fruitful mother of so fair a race,
With only one preserved,
She wanders o’er the wilderness.

No tear relieved the burthen of her heart;
Stunned with the heavy woe she felt like one
Half-wakened from a midnight dream of blood.
But sometimes when her boy
Would wet her hand with tears,
And looking up to her fixed countenance,
Amid his bursting sobs
Say the dear name of Mother, then would she
Utter a feeble groan.
At length collecting, Zeinab turned her eyes
To heaven, exclaiming, “praised be the Lord!
“He gave,[1] he takes away,
“The Lord our God is good!”

“Good is he?” cried the boy,
“Why are my brethren and my sisters slain?
“Why is my father killed?
“Did ever we neglect our prayers,
“Or ever lift a hand unclean to heaven?
“Did ever stranger from our tent
“Unwelcomed turn away?
“Mother, he is not good!”

Then Zeinab beat her breast in agony,
“O God forgive my child!
“He knows not what he says!
“Thou know’st I did not teach him thoughts like these,
“O Prophet, pardon him!”

She had not wept till that assuaging prayer....
The fountains of her eyes were opened then,
And tears relieved her heart.
She raised her swimming eyes to Heaven,
“Allah, thy will be done!
“Beneath the dispensation of thy wrath
“I groan, but murmur not.
“The Day of the Trial will come,
“When I shall understand how profitable
“It is to suffer now.”

Young Thalaba in silence heard reproof,
His brow in manly frowns was knit,
With manly thoughts his heart was full.
“Tell me who slew my father?” cried the boy.
Zeinab replied and said,
“I knew not that there lived thy father’s foe.
“The blessings of the poor for him
“Went daily up to Heaven,
“In distant lands the traveller told his praise.
“I did not think there lived
“Hodeirah’s enemy.”

“But I will hunt him thro’ the earth!”
Young Thalaba exclaimed.
“Already I can bend my father’s bow,
“Soon will my arm have strength
“To drive the arrow-feathers to his heart.”

Zeinab replied, “O Thalaba, my child,
“Thou lookest on to distant days,
“And we are in the desert far from men!”

Not till that moment her afflicted heart
Had leisure for the thought.
She cast her eyes around,
Alas! no tents were there
Beside the bending sands;
No palm tree rose to spot the wilderness.
The dark blue sky closed round
And rested[2] like a dome
Upon the circling waste.
She cast her eyes around,
Famine and Thirst were there.
Then the mother bowed her head,
And wept upon her child.

... Sudden a cry of wonder
From Thalaba aroused her,
She raised her head, and saw
Where high in air a stately palace rose.
Amid a grove embowered
Stood the prodigious pile,
Trees of such ancient majesty
Towered not on Yemen’s happy hills,
Nor crowned the stately brow of Lebanon.
Fabric so vast, so lavishly enriched,
For Idol, or for Tyrant, never yet
Raised the slave race of men
In Rome, nor in the elder Babylon,
Nor old Persepolis,
Nor where the family of Greece
Hymned Eleutherian Jove.
Here studding azure[3] tablatures
And rayed with feeble light,
Star-like the ruby and the diamond shone:
Here on the golden towers
The yellow moon-beam lay;
Here with white splendour floods the silver wall.
Less wonderous pile and less magnificent
Sennamar[4] built at Hirah, tho’ his art
Sealed with one stone the ample edifice
And made its colours, like the serpents skin
Play with a changeful beauty: him, its Lord
Jealous lest after-effort might surpass
The now unequalled palace, from its height
Dashed on the pavement down.

They entered, and through aromatic paths
Wondering they went along.
At length upon a mossy bank
Beneath a tall mimosa’s shade
That o’er him bent its living canopy,
They saw a man reclined.
Young he appeared, for on his cheek there shone
The morning glow of health,
And the brown beard curled close around his chin.
He slept, but at the sound
Of coming feet awakening, fixed his eyes
In wonder, on the wanderer and her child.
“Forgive us,” Zeinab cried,
“Distress hath made us bold.
“Relieve the widow and the fatherless.
“Blessed are they who succour the distrest
“For them hath God appointed Paradise.”

He heard, and he looked up to heaven,
And tears ran down his cheeks:
“It is a human voice!
“I thank thee, O my God!
“How many an age has past
“Since the sweet sounds have visited mine ear!
“I thank thee, O my God,
“It is a human voice!”

To Zeinab turning then he cried
“O mortal who art thou
“Whose gifted eyes have pierced
“The shadow of concealment that hath wrapt
“These bowers, so many an age,
“From eye of mortal man?
“For countless years have past
“And never foot of man
“The bowers of Irem trod.
“Save only I, a miserable wretch
“From Heaven and Earth shut out!”

Fearless, and scarce surprized,
For grief in Zeinab’s soul
All other feebler feelings overpowered,
She answered, “Yesterday
“I was a wife beloved,
“The fruitful mother of a numerous race.
“I am a widow now,
“Of all my offspring this alone is left.
“Praise to the Lord our God,
“He gave, he takes away!”

Then said the stranger, “Not by Heaven unseen
“Nor with unguided feet
“Thy steps have reached this secret place
“Nor for light purpose is the Veil,
“That from the Universe hath long shut out
“These ancient bowers, withdrawn.
“Hear thou my words, O mortal, in thy heart
“Treasure the wonders I shall tell;
“And when amid the world
“Thou shall emerge again
“Repeat the warning tale.
“Why have the Fathers suffered, but to make
“The Children wisely safe?”

“The Paradise of Irem[5] this,
“And that the palace pile
“Which Shedad built, the King.
“Alas! in the days of my youth
“The hum of the populous world
“Was heard in yon wilderness waste!
“O’er all the winding sands[6]
“The tents of Ad were pitch’d;
“Happy Al-Ahkaf then,
“For many and brave were her sons,
“Her daughters were many and fair.

“My name was Aswad then.
“Alas! alas! how strange
“The sound so long unheard!
“Of noble race I came,
“One of the wealthy of the earth my Sire,
“An hundred horses in my father’s stalls
“Stood ready for his will;
“Numerous his robes of silk,
“The number of his camels was not known.
“These were my heritance,
“O God! thy gifts were these;
“But better had it been for Aswad’s soul
“To have asked alms on earth,
“And begged the crumbs that from his table fell,
“So he had known thy word.

“Boy who hast reached this solitude,
“Fear the Lord in the days of thy youth!
“My knee was never taught
“To bend before my God,
“My voice was never taught
“To shape one holy prayer.
“We worshipped Idols, wood and stone,
“The work of our own foolish hands
“We worshipped in our foolishness.
“Vainly the Prophet’s voice
“Its frequent warning raised,
“Repent, and be forgiven!”—
“We mocked the messenger of God,
“We mocked the Lord, long-suffering, slow to wrath.

“A mighty work the pride of Shedad planned,
“Here in the wilderness to form
“A garden more surpassing fair
“Than that before whose gate,
“The lightning of the Cherub’s fiery sword
“Waves wide to bar access
“Since Adam, the transgressor, thence was driven.
“Here too would Shedad build
“A kingly pile sublime,
“The palace of his pride.
“For this exhausted mines
“Supplied their golden store,
“For this the central caverns gave their gems;
“For this the woodman’s axe
“Opened the cedar forest to the sun;
“The silkworm of the East
“Spun her sepulchral egg;
“The hunter African
“Provoked the danger of the elephant’s wrath;
“The Ethiop, keen of scent
“Detects the ebony,[7]
“That deep-inearthed, and hating light,
“A leafless tree and barren of all fruit,
“With darkness feeds her boughs of raven grain....
“Such were the treasures lavished in yon pile;
“Ages have past away
“And never mortal eye
“Gazed on their vanity.

“The garden’s copious springs
“Blest that delightful spot,
“And every flower was planted here
“That makes the gale of evening sweet.
“He spake, and bade the full-grown forest rise
“His own creation; should the King
“Wait for slow Nature’s work?
“All trees that bend with luscious fruit,
“Or wave with feathery boughs,
“Or point their spiring heads to heaven,
“Or spreading wide their shadowy arms
“Invite the traveller to repose at noon,
“Hither, uprooted with their native soil,
“The labour and the pain of multitudes,
“Mature in beauty, bore them.
“Here, frequent in the walks
“The marble statue stood
“Of heroes and of chiefs.
“The trees and flowers remain
“By Nature’s care perpetuate and self-sown.
“The marble statues long have lost all trace
“Of heroes and of chiefs,
“Huge shapeless stones they lie
“O’er-grown with many a flower.

“The work of pride went on....
“Often the Prophet’s voice
“Denounced impending woe....
“We mocked at the words of the Seer.
“We mocked at the wrath of the Lord.
“A long continued drought first troubled us,
“Three years no cloud had formed,
“Three years no rain had fallen.
“The wholesome herb was dry,
“The corn matured not for the food of man,
“The wells and fountains failed.
“O hard of heart, in whom the punishment
“Awoke no sense of guilt!
“Headstrong to ruin, obstinately blind,
“To Idols[8] we applied for aid;
“Sakia we invoked for rain,
“We called on Razeka for food....
“They did not hear our prayers, they could not hear!
“No cloud appeared in Heaven,
“No nightly dews came down.

“Then to the place of concourse,[9] messengers
“Were sent to Mecca, where the nations came,
“Round the Red Hillock, kneeling, to implore
“God in his favoured place,
“We sent to call on God;
“Ah fools! unthinking that from all the earth
“The heart ascends to him.
“We sent to call on God;
“Ah fools! to think the Lord
“Would hear their prayers abroad
“Who made no prayers at home!

“Meantime the work of pride went on,
“And still before our Idols, wood and stone,
“We bowed the impious knee.
“Turn men of Ad, and call upon the Lord,”
“The Prophet Houd exclaimed.
“Turn men of Ad and look to Heaven,
“And fly the wrath to come.
“We mocked the Prophet’s words;
“Now dost thou dream old man.
“Or art thou drunk with wine?
“Future woe and wrath to come,
“Still thy prudent voice forebodes;
“When it comes will we believe,
“Till it comes will we go on
“In the way our fathers went.
“Now are thy words from God?
“Or dost thou dream, old man,
“Or art thou drunk with wine?”

“So spake the stubborn race
“The unbelieving ones,
“I too of stubborn unbelieving heart
“Heard him and heeded not.
“It chanced my father went the way of man,
“He perished in his sins.
“The funeral rites were duly paid,
“We bound a camel to his grave
“And left it there to die,
“So if the resurrection[10] came
“Together they might rise.
“I past my father’s grave,
“I heard the Camel moan.
“She was his favourite beast,
“One that carried me in infancy,
“The first that by myself I learnt to mount.
“Her limbs were lean with famine, and her eyes
“Looked ghastlily with want.
“She knew me as I past,
“She stared[11] me in the face,
“My heart was touched, had it been human else?
“I thought no eye was near, and broke her bonds,
“And drove her forth to liberty and life.
“The Prophet Houd beheld,
“He lifted up his voice,
“Blessed art thou, young man,
“Blessed art thou, O Aswad, for the deed!
“In the day of visitation,
“In the fearful hour of judgment,
“God will remember thee!”

“The day of visitation was at hand,
“The fearful hour of judgment hastened on.
“Lo Shedad’s mighty pile complete,
“The palace of his pride.
“Would ye behold its wonders, enter in!
“I have no heart to visit it!
“Time hath not harmed the eternal monument,
“Time is not here, nor days, nor months, nor years,
“An everlasting now of misery!...
“Ye must have heard their fame,
“Or likely ye have seen
“The mighty Pyramids,
“For sure those mighty piles shall overlive
“The feeble generations of mankind.
“What tho’ unmoved they bore[12] the deluge weight,
“Survivors of the ruined world?
“What tho’ their founder filled with miracles
“And wealth miraculous their ample vaults?
“Compared with yonder fabric, and they shrink
“The baby wonders of a woman’s work!
“Her emerald columns o’er the marble courts
“Fling their green rays, as when amid a shower
“The sun shines loveliest on the vernal corn.
“Here Shedad bade the sapphire floor be laid,
“As tho’ with feet divine
“To trample azure light,
“Like the blue pavement of the firmament.
“Here self-suspended hangs in air,
“As its pure substance loathed material touch,
“The living[13] carbuncle;
“Sun of the lofty dome
“Darkness has no dominion o’er its beams;
“Intense it glows, an ever-flowing tide
“Of glory, like the day-flood in its source.
“Impious! the Trees of vegetable gold,
“Such as in Eden’s groves
“Yet innocent it[14] grew,
“Impious! he made his boast, tho’ heaven had hidden
“So deep the baneful ore,
“That they should branch and bud for him,
“That art should force their blossoms and their fruit,
“And re-create for him,
“Whate’er was lost in Paradise.
“Therefore at Shedad’s voice
“Here towered the palm, a silver trunk,
“The fine gold net-work[15] growing out
“Loose from its rugged boughs.
“Tall as the Cedar of the mountain, here
“Rose the gold branches, hung with emerald leaves,
“Blossomed with pearls, and rich with ruby fruit,
“O Ad! my country! evil was the day
“That thy unhappy sons
“Crouched at this Nimrod’s throne,[16]
“And placed him on the pedestal of power,
“And laid their liberties beneath his feet,
“Robbing their children of the heritance
“Their fathers handed down.
“What was to him the squandered wealth?
“What was to him the burthen of the land,
“The lavished misery?
“He did but speak his will,
“And like the blasting Siroc of the East,
“The ruin of the royal voice
“Found its way every-where.
“I marvel not that he, whose power
“No earthly law, no human feeling curbed,
“Mocked at the living God!

“And now the King’s command went forth
“Among the people, bidding old and young,
“Husband and wife, the master and the slave,
“All the collected multitudes of Ad,
“Here to repair, and hold high festival,
“That he might see his people, they behold
“Their King’s magnificence and power.
“The day of festival arrived,
“Hither they came, the old man and the boy,
“Husband and wife, the master and the slave,
“Hither they came. From yonder high tower top,
“The loftiest of the Palace, Shedad looked
“Down on his tribe: their tents on yonder sands
“Rose like the countless billows of the sea.
“Their tread and voices like the ocean roar,
“One deep confusion of tumultuous sounds.
“They saw their King’s magnificence; beheld
“His Palace sparkling like the Angel domes
“Of Paradise; his garden like the bowers
“Of early Eden, and they shouted out
“Great is the King, a God upon the earth!

“Intoxicate with joy and pride
“He heard their blasphemies,
“And in his wantonness of heart he bade
“The Prophet Houd be brought,
“And o’er the marble courts,
“And o’er the gorgeous rooms
“Glittering with gems and gold,
“He led the Man of God.
“Is not this a stately pile?”
“Cried the Monarch in his joy.
“Hath ever eye beheld,
“Hath ever thought conceived,
“Place more magnificent?
“Houd, they saw that Heaven imparted
“To thy lips the words of wisdom!
“Look at the riches round
“And value them aright,
“If so thy wisdom can.”

“The Prophet heard his vaunt
“And answered with an aweful smile,
“Costly thy palace King!
“But only in the hour[17] of death
“Man learns to value things like these aright.

“Hast thou a fault to find
“In all thine eyes have seen?
“Again the King exclaimed.
“Yes!” said the man of God;
“The walls are weak, the building ill secured.
“Azrael can enter in!
“The Sarsar can pierce thro’,
“The Icy Wind of Death.

“I was beside the Monarch when he spake....
“Gentle the Prophet spake,
“But in his eye there dwelt
“A sorrow that disturbed me while I gazed,
“The countenance of Shedad fell,
“And anger sate upon his paler lips.
“He to the high tower top the Prophet led,
“And pointed to the multitude,
“And as again they shouted out
“Great is the King! a God upon the Earth!”
“Turned with a threatful smile to Houd,
“Say they aright, O Prophet? is the King
“Great upon earth, a God among mankind?”
“The Prophet answered not,
“His eye rolled round the infinite multitude,
“And into tears he burst.

“Sudden an uproar rose,
“A cry of joy below,
“The Messenger is come!
“Kail from Mecca comes,
“He brings the boon obtained!”

“Forth as we went we saw where overhead
“There hung a deep black cloud,
“On which the multitude
“With joyful eyes looked up
“And blest the coming rain.
“The Messenger addrest the King
“And told his tale of joy.

“To Mecca I repaired,
“By the Red Hillock knelt
“And called on God for rain.
“My prayer ascended and was heard;
“Three clouds appeared in heaven.
“One white, and like the flying cloud of noon,
“One red as it had drunk the evening beams,
“One black and heavy with its load of rain.
“A voice went forth from heaven
“Chuse Kail of the three!”
“I thanked the gracious Power,
“And chose the black cloud, heavy with its wealth.”
“Right! right! a thousand tongues exclaimed,
“And all was merriment and joy.

“Then stood the Prophet up and cried aloud,
“Woe, woe, to Irem! woe to Ad!
“Death is gone up into her palaces!
“Woe! woe! a day of guilt and punishment,
“A day of desolation!”
“As he spake
“His large eye rolled in horror, and so deep
“His tone, it seemed some Spirit from within
“Breathed thro’ his moveless lips[18] the unearthly voice.
“All looks were turned to him. “O Ad!” he cried,
“Dear native land, by all rememberances
“Of childhood, by all joys of manhood dear;
“O Vale of many Waters! morn and night
“My age must groan for you, and to the grave
“Go down in sorrow. Thou wilt give thy fruits,
“But who shall gather them? thy grapes will ripen,
“But who shall tread the wine-press? Fly the wrath,
“Ye who would live and save your souls alive!
“For strong is his right hand that bends the Bow,
“The Arrows that he shoots are sharp,
“And err not from their aim!”[19]

“With that, a faithful few
“Prest thro’ the throng to join him. Then arose
“Mockery and mirth; “go bald head!” and they mixed
“Curses with laughter. He set forth, yet once
“Looked back,—his eye fell on me, and he called
“Aswad!”... it startled me,... it terrified,...
“Aswad!” again he called,... and I almost
“Had followed him. O moment fled too soon!
“O moment irrecoverably lost!
“The shouts of mockery made a coward of me;
“He went, and I remained, in fear of Man!”

“He went, and darker grew
“The deepening cloud above.
“At length it opened, and.... O God! O God!
“There were no waters there!
“There fell no kindly rain!
“The Sarsar from its womb went forth,
“The Icy Wind of Death.”

“They fell around me, thousands fell around,
“The King and all his People fell.
“All! all! they perished all!
“I ... only I ... was left.
“There came a Voice to me and said,
“In the Day of Visitation,
“In the fearful Hour of Judgement,
“God hath remembered thee.”

“When from an agony of prayer I rose
“And from the scene of death
“Attempted to go forth,
“The way was open, I beheld
“No barrier to my steps.
“But round these bowers the Arm of God
“Had drawn a mighty chain,
“A barrier that no human force might break.
“Twice I essayed to pass.
“With that the voice was heard,
“O Aswad be content, and bless the Lord!

“One righteous deed hath saved
“Thy soul from utter death.
“O Aswad, sinful man!
“When by long penitence
“Thou feelest thy soul prepared,
“Breathe up the wish to die,
“And Azrael comes, obedient to the prayer.”

“A miserable man
“From Earth and Heaven shut out,
“I heard the dreadful voice.
“I looked around my prison place,
“The bodies of the dead were there,
“Where’er I looked they lay.
“They mouldered, mouldered here,...
“Their very bones have crumbled into dust,
“So many years have past!
“So many weary ages have gone by!
“And still I linger here!
“Still groaning with the burthen of my sins
“Have never dared to breathe
“The prayer to be released.”

“Oh! who can tell the unspeakable misery
“Of solitude like this!
“No sound hath ever reached my ear
“Save of the passing wind....
“The fountain’s everlasting flow;
“The forest in the gale,
“The pattering of the shower,
“Sounds dead and mournful all.
“No bird hath ever closed her wing
“Upon these solitary bowers,
“No insect sweetly buzzed amid these groves,
“From all things that have life,
“Save only me, concealed.
“This Tree alone that o’er my head
“Hangs, down its hospitable boughs,
“And bends its whispering leaves
“As tho’ to welcome me,
“Seems to partake[20] of life;
“I love it as my friend, my only friend!

“I know not for what ages I have dragged
“This miserable life,
“How often I have seen
“These antient trees renewed,
“What countless generations of mankind
“Have risen and fallen asleep,
“And I remain the same!
“My garment hath not waxed old,
“Nor the sole of my shoe hath worn.

“I dare not breathe the prayer to die,
“O merciful Lord God!...
“But when it is thy will,
“But when I have atoned
“For mine iniquities,
“And sufferings have made pure
“My soul with sin defiled,
“Release me in thine own good time,...
“I will not cease to praise thee, O my God!”

Silence ensued awhile,
Then Zeinab answered him.
“Blessed art thou, O Aswad! for the Lord
“Who saved thy soul from Hell,
“Will call thee to him in his own good time.
“And would that when my heart
“Breathed up the wish to die,
“Azrael might visit me!
“Then would I follow where my babes are gone,
“And join Hodeirah now!”

She ceased, and the rushing of wings
Was heard in the stillness of night,
And Azrael, the Death-Angel stood before them.
His countenance was dark,
Solemn, but not severe,
It awed but struck no terror to the heart.
“Zeinab, thy wish is heard!
“Aswad, thy hour is come!”
They fell upon the ground and blest the voice,
And Azrael from his sword
Let drop[21] the drops of bitterness and death.

“Me too! me too!” young Thalaba exclaimed:
As wild with grief he kissed
His Mother’s livid hand,
His Mother’s quivering lips,
“O Angel! take me too!

“Son of Hodeirah!” the Death-Angel cried,
“It is not yet the hour.
“Son of Hodeirah, thou art chosen forth
“To do the will of Heaven;
“To avenge thy Father’s death,
“The murder of thy race,
“To work the mightiest enterprise
“That mortal man hath wrought.
“Live! and remember Destiny
“Hath marked thee from mankind!”

He ceased, and he was gone.
Young Thalaba looked round,...
The Palace and the groves were seen no more,
He stood amid the Wilderness, alone.

The Second Book.

THALABA THE DESTROYER.

THE SECOND BOOK.

Not in the desert
Son of Hodeirah
Wert thou abandoned!
The coexistent fire,
That in the Dens of Darkness burnt for thee,
Burns yet, and yet shall burn.

In the Domdaniel caverns
Under the Roots of the Ocean,
Met the Masters of the Spell.
Before them in the vault,
Blazing unfuelled from the floor of rock,
Ten magic flames arose.
“Burn mystic fires!” Abdaldar cried,
“Burn whilst Hodeirah’s dreaded race exist.
“This is the appointed hour,
“The hour that shall secure these dens of night.”

“Dim they burn,” exclaimed Lobaba,
“Dim they burn, and now they waver!
“Okba lifts the arm of death,
“They waver,... they go out!

“Curse on his hasty hand!”
Khawla exclaimed in wrath,
The woman-fiend exclaimed,
“Curse on his hasty hand, the fool hath failed!
“Eight only are gone out.”

A Teraph[22] stood against the cavern side,
A new-born infant’s head,
That Khawla at his hour of birth had seized
And from the shoulders wrung.
It stood upon a plate of gold,
An unclean Spirit’s name inscribed beneath.
The cheeks were deathy dark,
Dark the dead skin upon the hairless skull;
The lips were bluey pale;
Only the eyes had life,
They gleamed with demon light.

“Tell me!” quoth Khawla, “is the Fire gone out
“That threats the Masters of the Spell?”
The dead lips moved and spake,
“The Fire still burns that threats
“The Masters of the Spell.”

“Curse on thee, Okba!” Khawla cried,
As to the den the Sorcerer came,
He bore the dagger in his hand
Hot from the murder of Hodeirah’s race.
“Behold those unextinguished flames!
“The fire still burns that threats
“The Masters of the Spell!
“Okba, wert thou weak of heart?
“Okba, wert thou blind of eye?
“Thy fate and ours were on the lot,
“And we believed the lying stars
“That said thy hand might seize the auspicious hour!
“Thou hast let slip the reins of Destiny,...
“Curse thee, curse thee, Okba!”

The Murderer answering said,
“O versed in all enchanted lore,
“Thou better knowest Okba’s soul.
“Eight blows I struck, eight home-driven blows,
“Needed no second stroke
“From this envenomed blade.
“Ye frown at me as if the will had failed,
“As if ye did not know
“My double danger from Hodeirah’s race,
“The deeper hate I feel,
“The stronger motive that inspired my arm!
“Ye frown as if my hasty fault,
“My ill-directed blow
“Had spared the enemy,
“And not the stars that would not give,
“And not your feeble spells
“That could not force, the sign
“Which of the whole was he!
“Did ye not bid me strike them all?
“Said ye not root and branch should be destroyed?
“I heard Hodeirah’s dying groan,
“I heard his Children’s shriek of death,
“And sought to consummate the work,
“But o’er the two remaining lives
“A cloud unpierceable had risen,
“A cloud that mocked my searching eyes.
“I would have probed it with the dagger-point,
“The dagger was repelled,
“A Voice came forth and cried
“Son of Perdition, cease! thou canst not change
“What in the Book of Destiny is written.”

Khawla to the Teraph turned,
“Tell me where the Prophet’s hand
“Hides our destined enemy?”
The dead lips spake again,
“I view the seas, I view the land,
“I search the ocean and the earth!
“Not on Ocean is the Boy,
“Not on Earth his steps are seen.”

“A mightier power than we,” Lobaba cried,
“Protects our destined foe!
“Look! look! one fire burns dim!
“It quivers! it goes out!”

It quivered, it was quenched.
One flame alone was left,
A pale blue flame that trembled on the earth,
A hovering light upon whose shrinking edge
The darkness seemed to press.
Stronger it grew, and spread
Its lucid swell around,
Extending now where all the ten had stood,
With lustre more than all.
At that protentous sight,
The children of Evil trembled
And Terror smote their souls.
Over the den the fire
Its fearful splendour cast,
The broad base rolling up in wavy streams,
Bright as the summer lightning when it spreads
Its glory o’er the midnight heaven.
The Teraphs eyes were dimmed,
That like two twinkling stars
Shone in the darkness late.
The Sorcerers on each other gazed,
And every face all pale with fear,
And ghastly in that light was seen
Like a dead man’s by the sepulchral lamp.

Even Khawla fiercest of the enchanter brood
Not without effort drew
Her fear suspended breath.
Anon a deeper rage
Inflamed her reddening eye.
“Mighty is thy power, Mohammed!”
Loud in blasphemy she cried,
“But Eblis[23] would not stoop to man
“When Man fair statured as the stately palm,
“From his Creator’s hand
“Was undefiled and pure.
“Thou art mighty, O Son of Abdallah!
“But who is he of woman born
“That shall vie with the might of Eblis?
“That shall rival the Prince of the Morning?”

She said, and raised her skinny hand
As in defiance to high Heaven,
And stretched her long lean finger forth
And spake aloud the words of power.
The Spirits heard her call,
And lo! before her stands
Her Demon Minister.
“Spirit!” the Enchantress cried,
“Where lives the Boy coeval with whose life
“Yon magic fire must burn?”
DEMON.
Mistress of the mighty Spell,
Not on Ocean, not on Earth.
Only eyes that view
Allah’s glory throne,
See his hiding-place.
From some believing Spirit, ask and learn.

“Bring the dead Hodeirah here,”
Khawla cried, “and he shall tell.”
The Demon heard her bidding, and was gone.
A moment passed, and at her feet
Hodeirah’s corpse was laid.
His hand still held the sword he grasped in death,
The blood not yet had clotted on his wound.

The Sorceress looked and with a smile
That kindled to more fiendishness
Her hideous features, cried,
“Where Hodeirah is thy soul?
“Is it in the [24]Zemzem well?
“Is it in the Eden groves?
“Waits it for the judgement-blast
“In the trump of Israfil?
“Is it plumed with silver wings
“Underneath the throne of God?
“Even if beneath his throne
“Hodeirah, thou shalt hear,
“Thou shalt obey my voice!”

She said, and muttered charms that Hell in fear
And Heaven in horror heard.
Soon the stiff eye-balls rolled,
The muscles with convulsive motion shook,
The white lips quivered. Khawla saw, her soul
Exulted, and she cried,
“Prophet! behold my power!
“Not even death secures
“Thy slaves from Khawla’s Spell!
“Where Hodeirah is thy child?”

Hodeirah groaned and closed his eyes,
As if in the night and the blindness of death
He would have hid himself.

“Speak to my question!” she exclaimed,
“Or in that mangled body thou shall live
“Ages of torture! answer me!
“Where can we find the Boy?”

“God! God! Hodeirah cried,
“Release me from this life,
“From this intolerable agony!”

“Speak!” cried the Sorceress; and she snatched
A Viper from the floor,
And with the living reptile lashed[25] his neck.
Wreathed, round him with the blow,
The Reptile tighter drew her folds
And raised her wrathful head,
And fixed into his face
Her deadly teeth, and shed
Poison in every wound.
In vain! for Allah heard Hodeirah’s prayer,
And Khawla on a corpse
Had wrecked her baffled rage.
The fated fire moved on
And round the Body wrapt its funeral flames.
The flesh and bones in that portentous pile
Consumed; the Sword alone,
Circled with fire was left.

Where is the Boy for whose hand it is destined?
Where the Destroyer who one day shall wield
The Sword that is circled with fire?
Race accursed, try your charms!
Masters of the mighty Spell,
Mutter o’er your words of power!
Ye can shatter the dwellings of man,
Ye can open the womb of the rock,
Ye can shake the foundations of earth,
But not the Word of God:
But not one letter can ye change
Of what his Will hath written!

Who shall seek thro’ Araby
Hodeirah’s dreaded son?
They mingle the Arrows[26] of Chance
The lot of Abdaldar is drawn.
Thirteen moons must wax and wane
Ere the Sorcerer quit his quest.
He must visit every tribe
That roam the desert wilderness,
Or dwell beside perennial streams;
Nor leave a solitary tent unsearched
Till he has found the Boy,
The hated Boy whose blood alone
Can quench that dreaded fire.

A crystal ring Abdaldar bore,
The powerful gem[27] condensed
Primeval dews that upon Caucasus
Felt the first winter’s frost.
Ripening there it lay beneath
Rock above rock, and mountain ice up-piled
On mountain, till the incumbent mass assumed,
So huge its bulk, the Ocean’s azure hue.

With this he sought the inner den
Where burnt the eternal flame.
Like waters gushing from some channelled rock
Full thro’ a narrow opening, from a chasm
The eternal flame streamed up.
No eye beheld the fount
Of that up-flowing flame,
That blazed self-nurtured, and for ever, there.
It was no mortal element: the Abyss
Supplied it, from the fountains at the first
Prepared. In the heart of earth it lives and glows
Her vital heat, till at the day decreed,
The voice of God shall let its billows loose,
To deluge o’er with no abating flood
The consummated World;
That thenceforth thro’ the air must roll,
The penal Orb of Fire.

Unturbaned and unsandalled there,
Abdaldar stood before the flame,
And held the Ring beside, and spake
The language that the Elements obey.
The obedient flame detatched a portion forth,
That, in the crystal entering, was condensed,
Gem of the gem, its living Eye of fire.
When the hand that wears the spell
Shall touch the destined Boy,
Then shall that Eye be quenched,
And the freed Element
Fly to its sacred and remembered Spring.

Now go thy way Abdaldar!
Servant of Eblis,
Over Arabia
Seek the Destroyer!
Over the sands of the scorching Tchama,
Over the waterless mountains of Naïd,
In Arud pursue him; and Yemen the happy,
And Hejaz, the country beloved by believers.
Over Arabia
Servant of Eblis,
Seek the Destroyer.

From tribe to tribe, from town to town,
From tent to tent, Abdaldar past.
Him every morn the all-beholding Eye
Saw from his couch, unhallowed by a prayer,
Rise to the scent of blood,
And every night lie down.
That rankling hope within him, that by day
Goaded his steps, still stinging him in sleep,
And startling him with vain accomplishment
From visions still the same.
Many a time his wary hand
To many a youth applied the Ring,
And still the dagger in his mantle hid
Was ready for the deed.

At length to the cords of a tent
That were stretched by an Island of Palms
In the desolate sea of the sands,
The weary traveller came.
Under a shapely palm,
Herself as shapely, there a Damsel stood.
She held her ready robe
And looked towards a Boy,
Who from the tree above
With one hand clinging to its trunk,
Cast with the other down the clustered dates.

The Wizard approached the Tree,
He leaned on his staff, like a way-faring man,
And the sweat of his travel was seen on his brow.
He asks for food, and lo!
The Damsel proffers him her lap of dates.
And the Stripling descends, and runs into the tent
And brings him forth water, the draught of delight.

Anon the Master of the tent,
The Father of the family
Came forth, a man in years, of aspect mild.
To the stranger approaching he gave
The friendly saluting of peace,
And bade the skin be spread.
Before the tent they spread the[28] skin,
Under a Tamarind’s shade,
That bending forward, stretched
Its boughs of beauty far.
They brought the Traveller rice,
With no false colours[29] tinged to tempt the eye,
But white as the new-fallen snow,
When never yet the sullying Sun
Hath seen its purity,
Nor the warm Zephyr touched and tainted it.
The dates of the grove before their guest
They laid, and the luscious fig,
And water from the well.
The Damsel from the Tamarind tree
Had plucked its acid fruit
And steeped it in water long;
And whoso drank of the cooling[30] draught
He would not wish for wine.
This to the guest the Damsel brought,
And a modest pleasure kindled her cheek,
When raising from the cup his moistened lips
The Stranger smiled, and praised, and drank again.

Whither is gone the Boy?
He had pierced the Melon’s pulp
And closed with wax the wound,
And he had duly gone at morn
And watched its ripening rind,
And now all joyfully he brings
The treasure now matured.
His dark eyes sparkle with a boy’s delight.
As he pours out its liquid[31] lusciousness
And proffers to the guest.

Abdaldar ate, and he was satisfied:
And now his tongue discoursed
Of regions far remote,
As one whose busy feet had travelled long.
The Father of the family,
With a calm eye and quiet smile,
Sate pleased to hearken him.
The Damsel who removed the meal,
She loitered on the way
And listened with full [32]hands
A moment motionless.
All eagerly the Boy
Watches the Traveller’s lips,
And still the wily man
With seemly kindness to the eager Boy
Directs his winning tale.
Ah, cursed man! if this be he,
If thou hast found the object of thy search,
Thy hate, thy bloody aim,
Into what deep damnation wilt thou plunge
Thy miserable soul!
Look! how his eye delighted watches thine!
Look! how his open lips
Gasp at the winning tale!
And nearer now he comes
To lose no word of that delightful talk.
Then, as in familiar mood,
Upon the Stripling’s arm
The Sorcerer laid his hand,
And the fire of the Crystal fled.

Whilst the sudden shoot of joy
Made pale Abdaldar’s cheek,
The Master’s voice was heard:
“It is the hour[33] of prayer,...
“My children, let us purify ourselves
“And praise the Lord our God!”
The Boy the water brought,
After the law[34] they purified themselves,
And bent their faces to the earth in prayer.

All, save Abdaldar; over Thalaba
He stands, and lifts the dagger to destroy.
Before his lifted arm received
Its impulse to descend,
The Blast of the Desert came.
Prostrate in prayer, the pious family
Felt not the Simoom[35] pass.
They rose, and lo! the Sorcerer lying dead,
Holding the dagger in his blasted hand.

The Third Book.

THALABA THE DESTROYER.

THE THIRD BOOK.

THALABA.

Oneiza, look! the dead man has a ring,...
Should it be buried with him?

ONEIZA.

Oh yes ... yes!
A wicked man! all that he has must needs
Be wicked too!

THALABA.

But see,... the sparkling stone!
How it has caught the glory of the Sun,
And streams it back again in lines of light!

ONEIZA.

Why do you take it from him Thalaba?...
And look at it so near?... it may have charms
To blind, or poison ... throw it in the grave!...
I would not touch it!

THALABA.

And around its rim
Strange letters,...

ONEIZA.

Bury it.... Oh! bury it!

THALABA.

It is not written as the Koran is;
Some other tongue perchance ... the accursed man
Said he had been a traveller.

MOATH.

coming from the tent.

Thalaba,
What hast thou there?

THALABA.

A ring the dead man wore,
Perhaps my father, you can read its meaning.

MOATH.

No Boy,... the letters are not such as ours.
Heap the sand over it! a wicked man
Wears nothing holy.

THALABA.

Nay! not bury it!
It may be that some traveller who shall enter
Our tent, may read them: or if we approach
Cities where strangers dwell and learned men,
They may interpret.

MOATH.

It were better hid
Under the desert sands. This wretched man,
Whom God hath smitten in the very purpose
And impulse of his unpermitted crime,
Belike was some Magician, and these lines
Are of the language that the Demons use.

ONEIZA.

Bury it! bury it ... dear Thalaba!

MOATH.

Such cursed men there are upon the earth,
In league and treaty with the Evil powers,
The covenanted enemies of God
And of all good, dear purchase have they made
Of rule, and riches, and their life-long sway,
Masters, yet slaves of Hell. Beneath the Roots
Of Ocean, the Domdaniel caverns lie:
Their impious meeting; there they learn the words
Unutterable by man who holds his hope
Of Heaven, there brood the Pestilence, and let
The Earthquake loose.

THALABA.

And he who would have killed me
Was one of these?

MOATH.

I know not, but it may be
That on the Table of Destiny, thy name
Is written their Destroyer, and for this
Thy life by yonder miserable man
So sought; so saved by interfering Heaven.

THALABA.

His ring has some strange power then?

MOATH.

Every gem,[36]
So sages say, has virtue; but the science
Of difficult attainment, some grow pale
Conscious of poison,[37] or with sudden shade
Of darkness, warn the wearer; same preserve
From spells, or blunt the hostile weapon’s[38] edge.
Some open rocks and mountains, and lay bare
Their buried treasures; others make the sight
Strong to perceive the presence of all Beings
Thro’ whose pure substance the unaided eye
Passes, like empty air ... and in yon stone
I deem some such misterious quality.

THALABA.

My father, I will wear it.

MOATH.

Thalaba!

THALABA.

In God’s name, and the Prophet’s! be its power
Good, let it serve the righteous: if for evil,
God and my trust in him shall hallow it.

So Thalaba drew on
The written ring of gold.
Then in the hollow grave
They laid Abdaldar’s corpse,
And levelled over him the desert dust.

The Sun arose, ascending from beneath
The horizon’s circling line.
As Thalaba to his ablutions went,
Lo! the grave open, and the corpse exposed!
It was not that the winds of night
Had swept away the sands that covered it,
For heavy with the undried dew
The desert dust was dark and close around;
And the night air had been so moveless calm,
It had not from the grove
Shaken a ripe date down.

Amazed to hear the tale
Forth from the tent came Moath and his child.
Awhile the thoughtful man surveyed the corpse
Silent with downward eyes,
Then turning spake to Thalaba and said,
“I have heard that there are places by the abode
“Of holy men, so holily possessed,
“That if a corpse be buried there, the ground
“With a convulsive effort shakes it out,[39]
“Impatient of pollution. Have the feet
“Of Prophet or Apostle blest this place?
“Ishmael, or Houd, or Saleh, or than all,
“Mohammed, holier name? or is the man
“So foul with magic and all blasphemy,
“That Earth[40] like Heaven rejects him? it is best
“Forsake the station. Let us strike our tent.
“The place is tainted ... and behold
“The Vulture[41] hovers yonder, and his scream
“Chides us that we still we scare him from his banquet.
“So let the accursed one
“Find fitting sepulchre.”

Then from the pollution of death
With water they made themselves pure,
And Thalaba drew up
The fastening of the cords,
And Moath furled the tent,
And from the grove of palms Oneiza led
The Camels, ready to receive their load.

The dews had ceased to steam
Towards the climbing Sun,
When from the Isle of Palms they went their way.
And when the Sun had reached his southern height,
As back they turned their eyes,
The distant Palms arose
Like to the top-sails of some far-off fleet
Distinctly seen, where else
The Ocean bounds had blended with the sky.
And when the eve came on
The sight returning reached the grove no more.
They planted the pole of their tent,
And they laid them down to repose.

At midnight Thalaba started up,
For he felt that the ring on his finger was moved.
He called on Allah aloud,
And he called on the Prophet’s name.
Moath arose in alarm,
“What ails thee Thalaba?” he cried,
“Is the Robber of night at hand?”
“Dost thou not see,” the youth exclaimed,
“A Spirit in the Tent?”
Moath looked round and said,
“The moon beam shines in the Tent,
“I see thee stand in the light,
“And thy shadow is black on the ground.”

Thalaba answered not.
“Spirit!” he cried, “what brings thee here?
“In the name of the Prophet, speak,
“In the name of Allah, obey!”

He ceased, and there was silence in the Tent.
“Dost thou not hear?” quoth Thalaba.
The listening man replied,
“I hear the wind, that flaps
“The curtain of the Tent.

“The Ring! the Ring!” the youth exclaimed.
“For that the Spirit of Evil comes,
“By that I see, by that I hear.
“In the name of God, I ask thee
“Who was he that slew my Father?”

DEMON.

Master of the powerful Ring!
Okba, the wise Magician, did the deed.

THALABA.

Where does the Murderer dwell?

DEMON.

In the Domdaniel caverns
Under the Roots of the Ocean.

THALABA.

Why were my Father and my brethren slain?

DEMON.

We knew from the race of Hodeirah
The destined destroyer would come.

THALABA.

Bring me my father’s sword.

DEMON.

A fire surrounds the fated-sword,
No Spirit or Magician’s hand
Can pierce that guardian flame.

THALABA.

Bring me his bow and his arrows.

Distinctly Moath heard his voice, and She
Who thro’ the Veil of Separation, watched
All sounds in listening terror, whose suspense
Forbade the aid of prayer.
They heard the voice of Thalaba;
But when the Spirit spake, the motionless air
Felt not the subtle sounds,
Too fine for mortal sense.

On a sudden the rattle of arrows was heard,
And the quiver was laid at the feet of the youth,
And in his hand they saw Hodeirah’s Bow.
He eyed the Bow, he twanged the string,
And his heart bounded to the joyous tone.
Anon he raised his voice, and cried
“Go thy way, and never more,
“Evil Spirit, haunt our tent!
“By the virtue of the Ring,
“By Mohammed’s holier might,
“By the holiest name of God,
“Thee and all the Powers of Hell
“I adjure and I command
“Never more to trouble us!”

Nor ever from that hour
Did rebel Spirit on the Tent intrude,
Such virtue had the Spell.

And peacefully the vernal years
Of Thalaba past on.
Till now without an effort he could bend
Hodeirah’s stubborn Bow.
Black were his eyes and bright,
The sunny hue of health
Glowed on his tawny cheek,
His lip was darkened by maturing life;
Strong were his shapely limbs, his stature tall;
He was a comely youth.

Compassion for the child
Had first old Moath’s kindly heart possessed,
An orphan, wailing in the wilderness.
But when he heard his tale, his wonderous tale,
Told by the Boy with such eye-speaking truth,
Now with sudden bursts of anger,
Now in the agony of tears,
And now in flashes of prophetic joy.
What had been pity became reverence,
And like a sacred trust from Heaven
The old man cherished him.
Now with a father’s love,
Child of his choice, he loved the Boy,
And like a father to the Boy was dear.
Oneiza called him brother, and the youth,
More fondly than a brother, loved the maid,
The loveliest of Arabian maidens she.
How happily the years
Of Thalaba went by!

It was the wisdom and the will of Heaven
That in a lonely tent had cast
The lot of Thalaba.
There might his soul develope best
Its strengthening energies;
There might he from the world
Keep his heart pure and uncontaminate,
Till at the written hour he should be found
Fit servant of the Lord, without a spot.

Years of his youth, how rapidly ye fled
In that beloved solitude!
Is the morn fair, and does the freshening breeze
Flow with cool current o’er his cheek?
Lo! underneath the broad-leaved sycamore
With lids half closed he lies,
Dreaming of days to come.
His dog[42] beside him, in mute blandishment,
Now licks his listless hand,
Now lifts an anxious and expectant eye
Courting the wonted caress.

Or comes the Father[43] of the Rains
From his Caves in the uttermost West,
Comes he in darkness and storms?
When the blast is loud,
When the waters fill
The Travellers tread in the sands,
When the pouring shower
Streams adown the roof,
When the door-curtain hangs in heavier folds,
When the outstrained tent flags loosely,
Comfort is within,
The embers chearful glow,
The sound of the familiar voice,
The song that lightens toil.
Under the common shelter on dry sand
The quiet Camels ruminate their food;
From Moath falls the lengthening cord,
As patiently the old Man
Intwines the strong palm-fibers;[44] by the hearth
The Damsel shakes the coffee-grains,
That with warm fragrance fill the tent;
And while with dextrous fingers, Thalaba
Shapes the green basket,[45] haply at his feet
Her favourite kidling gnaws the twig,
Forgiven plunderer, for Oneiza’s sake!

Or when the winter torrent rolls
Down the deep-channelled rain-course, foamingly,
Dark with its mountain spoils,
With bare feet pressing the wet sand
There wanders Thalaba,
The rushing flow, the flowing roar,
Filling his yielded faculties;
A vague, a dizzy, a tumultuous joy.
... Or lingers it a vernal brook[46]
Gleaming o’er yellow sands?
Beneath the lofty bank reclined,
With idle eye he views its little waves,
Quietly listening to the quiet flow;
While in the breathings of the stirring gale
The tall canes bend above,
Floating like streamers on the wind
Their lank uplifted leaves.

Nor rich,[47] nor poor, was Moath; God had given
Enough, and blest him with a mind content.
No hoarded[48] gold disquieted his dreams;
But ever round his station he beheld
Camels that knew his voice,
And home-birds, grouping at Oneiza’s call,
And goats that, morn and eve,
Came with full udders to the Damsel’s hand.
Dear child! the Tent beneath whose shade they dwelt
That was her work; and she had twined
His girdle’s many-hues;
And he had seen his robe
Grow in Oneiza’s loom.[49]
How often with a memory-mingled joy
That made her Mother live before his sight,
He watched her nimble finders thread the woof!
Or at the hand-mill[50] when she knelt and toiled,
Tost the thin cake on spreading palm,
Or fixed it on the glowing oven’s side
With bare[51] wet arm, in safe dexterity.

’Tis the cool evening hour:
The Tamarind from the dew
Sheaths[52] its young fruit, yet green.
Before their Tent the mat is spread,
The old man’s aweful voice
Intones[53] the holy Book.
What if beneath no lamp-illumined dome,
Its marble walls[54] bedecked with flourished truth,
Azure and gold adornment? sinks the Word
With deeper influence from the Imam’s voice,
Where in the day of congregation, crowds
Perform the duty task?
Their Father is their Priest,
The Stars of Heaven their point[55] of prayer,
And the blue Firmament
The glorious Temple, where they feel
The present Deity.

Yet thro’ the purple glow of eve
Shines dimly the white moon.
The slackened bow, the quiver, the long lance,
Rest on the pillar[56] of the Tent.
Knitting light palm-leaves[57] for her brother’s brow
The dark-eyed damsel sits;
The Old Man tranquilly
Up his curled pipe inhales
The tranquillizing herb.
So listen they the reed[58] of Thalaba,
While his skilled fingers modulate
The low, sweet, soothing, melancholy tones,
Or if he strung the pearls[59] of Poetry
Singing with agitated face
And eloquent arms, and sobs that reach the heart,
A tale[60] of love and woe;
Then, if the brightening Moon that lit his face
In darkness favoured her’s,
Oh! even with such a look, as, fables say,
The mother Ostrich[61] fixes on her egg,
Till that intense affection
Kindle its light of life,
Even in such deep and breathless tenderness
Oneiza’s soul is centered on the youth,
So motionless with such an ardent gaze,
Save when from her full eyes
Quickly she wipes away the gushing tears
That dim his image there.

She called him brother: was it sister-love
That made the silver rings
Round her smooth ankles[62] and her twany arms,
Shine daily brightened? for a brother’s eye
Were her long fingers[63] tinged,
As when she trimmed the lamp,
And thro’ the veins and delicate skin
The light shone rosy? that the darkened lids[64]
Gave yet a softer lustre to her eye?
That with such pride she tricked
Her glossy tresses, and on holy day
Wreathed the red flower-crown[65] round their jetty waves?
How happily the years
Of Thalaba went by!

Yet was the heart of Thalaba
Impatient of repose;
Restless he pondered still
The task for him decreed,
The mighty and mysterious work announced.
Day by day with youthful ardour
He the call of Heaven awaits,
And oft in visions o’er the Murderer’s head
He lifts the avenging arm,
And oft in dreams he sees
The Sword that is circled with fire.

One morn as was their wont, in sportive mood
The youth and damsel bent Hodeirah’s bow,
For with no feeble hand nor erring aim
Oneiza could let loose the obedient shaft.
With head back-bending, Thalaba
Shot up the aimless arrow high in air,
Whose line in vain the aching sight pursued
Lost in the depth of heaven.
“When will the hour arrive,” exclaimed the youth,
“That I shall aim these fated shafts
“To vengeance long delayed?
“Have I not strength, my father, for the deed?
“Or can the will of Providence
“Be mutable like man?
“Shall I never be called to the task?”

“Impatient boy!” quoth Moath, with a smile:
“Impatient Thalaba!” Oneiza cried,
And she too smiled, but in her smile
A mild reproachful melancholy mixed.

Then Moath pointed where a cloud
Of Locusts, from the desolated fields
Of Syria, winged their way.
“Lo! how created things
“Obey the written doom!”

Onward they came, a dark continuous cloud
Of congregated myriads numberless,
The rushing of whose wings was as the sound
Of a broad river, headlong in its course
Plunged from a mountain summit, or the roar
Of a wild ocean in the autumn storm,
Shattering its billows on a shore of rocks.
Onward they came, the winds impelled them on,
Their work was done, their path of[66] ruin past,
Their graves were ready in the wilderness.
“Behold the mighty army!” Moath cried,
“Blindly they move, impelled
“By the blind Element.
“And yonder Birds our welcome visitants,
“Lo! where they soar above the embodied host,
“Pursue their way, and hang upon their rear,
“And thin their spreading flanks,
“Rejoicing o’er their banquet! deemest thou
“The scent of water, on the Syrian mosque
“Placed with priest-mummery, and the jargon-rites
“That fool the multitude, has led them here
“From far Khorasan?[67] Allah who decreed
“Yon tribe the plague and punishment of man,
“These also hath he doomed to meet their way:
“Both passive instruments
“Of his all-acting will,
“Sole mover he, and only spring of all.”

While thus he spake, Oneiza’s eye looks up
Where one towards her flew,
Satiate, for so it seemed, with sport and food.
The Bird flew over her,
And as he past above,
From his relaxing grasp a Locust fell....
It fell upon the Maiden’s robe,
And feebly there it stood, recovering slow.

The admiring girl surveyed
His out-spread sails of green.
His gauzy underwings,
One closely to the grass green body furled,
One ruffled in the fall, and half unclosed.
She viewed his jet-orbed eyes
His glossy gorget bright
Green-glittering in the sun;
His plumy pliant horns
That, nearer as she gazed,
Bent tremblingly before her breath.
She viewed his yellow-circled front
With lines mysterious veined;
“And knowest thou what is written here,
“My father?” said the Maid.
“Look Thalaba! perchance these lines
“Are in the letters of the Ring,
“Nature’s own language written here.”

The youth bent down, and suddenly
He started, and his heart
Sprung, and his cheek grew red,
For the mysterious[68] lines were legible,
When the sun shall be darkened at noon,
Son of Hodeirah, depart.
And Moath looked, and read the lines aloud;
The Locust shook his wings and fled,
And they were silent all.

Who then rejoiced but Thalaba?
Who then was troubled but the Arabian Maid?
And Moath sad of heart,
Tho’ with a grief supprest, beheld the youth
Sharpen his arrows now,
And now new-plume their shafts,
Now to beguile impatient hope
Feel every sharpened point.

“Why is that anxious look,” Oneiza cried,
“Still upwards cast at noon?
“Is Thalaba aweary of our tent?”
“I would be gone,” the youth replied,
“That I might do my task,
“And full of glory to the tent return
“Whence I should part no more.”

But on the noontide sun,
As anxious and as oft Oneiza’s eye
Was upward glanced in fear.
And now as Thalaba replied, her cheek
Lost its fresh and lively hue,
For in the Sun’s bright edge
She saw, or thought she saw, a little speck.
The sage Astronomer
Who with the love of science full
Trembled that day at every passing cloud,
He had not seen it, ’twas a speck so small.

Alas! Oneiza sees the spot increase!
And lo! the ready Youth
Over his shoulder the full quiver slings
And grasps the slackened bow.
It spreads, and spreads, and now
Has shaddowed half the Sun,
Whose crescent-pointed horns
Now momently decrease.

The day grows dark, the Birds retire to rest;
Forth from her shadowy haunt
Flies the large-headed[69] Screamer of the night.
Far off the affrighted African,
Deeming his God deceased,
Falls on his knees in prayer,
And trembles as he sees
The fierce Hyena’s eyes
Glare in the darkness of that dreadful noon.

Then Thalaba exclaimed, “Farewell,
“My father! my Oneiza!” the Old Man
Felt his throat swell with grief.
“Where wilt thou go my Child?” he cried,
“Wilt thou not wait a sign
“To point thy destined way?”
“God will conduct me!” said the noble youth,
He said and from the Tent
In the depth of the darkness departed.
They heard his parting steps,
The quiver rattling as he past away.

The Fourth Book.

THALABA THE DESTROYER.

THE FOURTH BOOK.

Whose is yon dawning form,
That in the darkness meets
The delegated youth?
Dim as the shadow of a fire at noon,
Or pale reflection on the evening brook
Of Glow-worm on the bank
Kindled to guide her winged paramour.

A moment, and the brightening image shaped
His Mother’s form and features. “Go,” she cried,
“To Babylon, and from the Angels learn
“What talisman thy task requires.”
The Spirit hung towards him when she ceased,
As tho’ with actual lips she would have given
A mother’s kiss ... his arms outstretched,
His body bending on,
His lips unclosed and trembling into speech
He prest to meet the blessing,... but the wind
Played on his cheek: he looked, and he beheld
The darkness close. “Again! again!” he cried,
“Let me again behold thee!” from the darkness
His Mother’s voice went forth;
“Thou shall behold me in the hour of death.”

Day dawns, the twilight gleam dilates,
The Sun comes forth and like a God
Rides thro’ rejoicing heaven.
Old Moath and his daughter from their tent
Beheld the adventurous youth,
Dark moving o’er the sands,
A lessening image, trembling thro’ their tears.
Visions of high emprize
Beguiled his lonely road;
And if sometimes to Moath’s tent
The involuntary mind recurred,
Fancy, impatient of all painful thoughts
Pictured the bliss should welcome his return.
In dreams like these he went,
And still of every dream
Oneiza formed a part,
And Hope and Memory made a mingled joy.

In the eve he arrived at a Well,
The Acacia bent over its side,
Under whose long light-hanging boughs
He chose his night’s abode.
There, due ablutions made and prayers performed,
The youth his mantle spread,
And silently produced
His solitary meal.
The silence and the solitude recalled
Dear recollections, and with folded arms,
Thinking of other days, he sate, till thought
Had left him, and the Acacia’s moving shade
Upon the sunny sand
Had caught his idle eye,
And his awakened ear
Heard the grey Lizard’s chirp,
The only sound of life.

As thus in vacant quietness he sate,
A Traveller on a Camel reached the Well,
And courteous greeting gave.
The mutual salutation past,
He by the cistern too his garment spread,
And friendly converse cheered the social meal.

The Stranger was an antient man,
Yet one whose green old age
Bore the fair characters of temperate youth.
So much of manhood’s strength his limbs retained,
It seemed he needed not the staff he bore.
His beard was long, and grey, and crisp;
Lively his eyes and quick,
And reaching over them
The large broad eye-brow curled....
His speech was copious, and his winning words
Enriched with knowledge, that the attentive youth
Sate listening with a thirsty joy.

So in the course of talk
The adventurer youth enquired
Whither his course was bent;
The Old Man answered, “to Bagdad I go.”
At that so welcome sound a flash of joy
Kindled the eye of Thalaba;
“And I too,” he replied,
“Am journeying thitherward,
“Let me become companion of thy way!”
Courteous the Old Man smiled,
And willing in assent....

OLD MAN.

Son, thou art young for travel.

THALABA.

Until now
I never past the desert boundary.

OLD MAN.

It is a noble city that we seek.
Thou wilt behold magnificent palaces,
And lofty obelisks, and high-domed Mosques,
And rich Bazars, whither from all the world
Industrious merchants meet, and market there
The World’s collected wealth.

THALABA.

Stands not Bagdad
Near to the site of ancient Babylon
And Nimrod’s impious temple?

OLD MAN.

From the walls
’Tis but a long day’s distance.

THALABA.

And the ruins?

OLD MAN.

A mighty mass remains; enough to tell us
How great our [70]fathers were, how little we.
Men are not what they were; their crimes and follies
Have dwarfed them down from the old hero race
To such poor things as we!

THALABA.

At Babylon
I have heard the Angels expiate their guilt,
Haruth and Maruth.

OLD MAN.

’Tis a history
Handed from ages down; the nurses make it
A tale to please their children,
And as their garrulous ignorance relates
We learn it and believe ... but all things feel
The power of Time and Change! thistles and grass
Usurp the desolate palace, and the weeds
Of Falshood root in the aged pile of Truth.
How have you heard the tale?

THALABA.

Thus ... on a time
The Angels at the wickedness of man
Expressed indignant wonder: that in vain
Tokens and signs were given, and Prophets sent,...
Strange obstinacy this! a stubborness
Of sin, they said, that should for ever bar
The gates of mercy on them. Allah heard
Their unforgiving pride, and bade that two
Of these untempted Spirits should descend,
Judges on earth. Haruth and Maruth went,
The chosen Sentencers; they fairly heard
The appeals of men to their tribunal brought,
And rightfully decided. At the length
A Woman came before them ... beautiful
Zohara was, as yonder Evening star,
In the mild lustre[71] of whose lovely light
Even now her beauty shines. They gazed on her
With fleshly eyes, they tempted her to sin.
The wily woman listened, and required
A previous price, the knowledge of the name[72]
Of God. She learnt the wonder-working name
And gave it utterance, and its virtue bore her
Up to the glorious Presence, and she told
Before the aweful Judgement-Seat, her tale.

OLD MAN.

I know the rest, the accused Spirits were called:
Unable of defence, and penitent,
They owned their crime and heard the doom deserved.
Then they besought the Lord that not for ever
His wrath might be upon them; and implored
That penal ages might at length restore them
Clean from offence, since then by Babylon
In the cavern of their punishment they dwell,
Runs the conclusion so?

THALABA.

So I am taught.

OLD MAN.

The common tale! and likely thou hast heard
How that the bold and bad, with impious rites
Intrude upon their penitence, and force,
Albeit from loathing and reluctant lips,
The sorcery-secret?

THALABA.

Is it not the truth?

OLD MAN.

Son, thou hast seen the Traveller in the sands
Move in the dizzy light of the hot noon,
Huge[73] as the giant race of elder times,
And his Camel, than the monstrous Elephant,
Seem of a vaster bulk.

THALABA.

A frequent sight.

OLD MAN.

And hast thou never in the twilight, fancied
Familiar object into some strange shape
And form uncouth?

THALABA.

Aye! many a time.

OLD MAN.

Even so
Things viewed at distance thro’ the mist of fear,
In their distortion terrify and shock
The abused sight.

THALABA.

But of these Angels fate
Thus in the uncreated Book is written.

OLD MAN.

Wisely from legendary fables, Heaven
Inculcates wisdom.

THALABA.

How then is the truth?
Is not the dungeon of their punishment
By ruined Babylon?

OLD MAN.

By Babylon
Haruth and Maruth may be found.

THALABA.
And there
Magician learn their impious sorcery?

OLD MAN.

Son what thou sayest is true, and it is false.
But night approaches fast; I have travelled far
And my old lids are heavy ... on our way
We shall have hours for converse, let us now
Turn to our due repose. Son, peace be with thee!

So in his loosened cloak
The Old Man wrapt[74] himself
And laid his limbs at length:
And Thalaba in silence laid him down.
Awhile he lay and watched the lovely Moon,
O’er whose broad orb the boughs
A mazy fretting framed,
Or with a pale transparent green
Lighting the restless leaves,
The thin Acacia leaves that played above.
The murmuring wind, the moving leaves
Lulled him to sleep with mingled lullabies.

Not so the dark Magician by his side,
Lobaba, who from the Domdaniel caves
Had sought the dreaded youth.
Silent he lay, and simulating sleep,
Till by the long and regular breath he knew
The youth beside him slept.
Carefully then he rose,
And bending over him, surveyed him near
And secretly he cursed
The dead Abdaldar’s ring,
Armed by whose amulet
He slept from danger safe.

Wrapped in his mantle Thalaba reposed,
His loose right arm pillowing his head.
The Moon was on the Ring,
Whose crystal gem returned
A quiet, moveless light.
Vainly the Wizard vile put forth his hand
And strove to reach the gem,
Charms strong as hell could make them, made it safe.
He called his servant fiends,
He bade the Genii rob the sleeping youth.
By the virtue of the Ring,
By Mohammed’s holier power,
By the holiest name of God,
Had Thalaba disarmed the evil race.

Baffled and weary, and convinced at length,
Anger, and fear, and rancour gnawing him,
The accursed Sorcerer ceased his vain attempts.
Content perforce to wait
Temptations likelier aid.
Restless he lay, and brooding many a wile,
And tortured with impatient hope,
And envying with the bitterness of hate
The innocent youth, who slept so sweetly by.

The ray of morning on his eye lids fell,
And Thalaba awoke
And folded his mantle around him,
And girded his loins for the day;
Then the due rites of holiness observed.
His comrade too arose,
And with the outward forms
Of righteousness and prayer insulted God.
They filled their water skin, they gave
The Camel his full draught.
Then on their road while yet the morn was young
And the air was fresh with dew,
Forward the travellers went,
With various talk beguiling the long way.
But soon the youth, whose busy mind
Dwelt on Lobaba’s wonder-stirring words,
Renewed the unfinished converse of the night.

THALABA.

Thou saidest that it is true, and yet is false,
That men accurst, attain at Babylon
Forbidden knowledge from the Angel pair....
How mean you?

LOBABA.

All things have a double power,
Alike for good and evil, the same fire
That on the comfortable hearth at eve
Warmed the good man, flames o’er the house at night
Should we for this forego
The needful element?
Because the scorching summer Sun
Darts fever, wouldst thou quench the orb of day?
Or deemest thou that Heaven in anger formed
Iron to till the field, because when man
Had tipt his arrows for the chase, he rushed
A murderer to the war?

THALABA.

What follows hence?

LOBABA.

That nothing in itself is good or evil,
But only in its use. Think you the man
Praiseworthy who by painful study learns
The knowledge of all simples, and their power
Healing or harmful?

THALABA.

All men hold in honour
The skilful Leech. From land to land he goes
Safe in his privilege; the sword of war
Spares him, Kings welcome him with costly gifts,
And he who late had from the couch of pain
Lifted a languid look to him for aid,
Views him with brightened eyes, and blesses him
In his first thankful prayer.

LOBABA.

Yet some there are
Who to the purposes of wickedness,
Apply this knowledge, and from herbs distil
Poison to mix it in the trusted draught.

THALABA.