Whose is yon dawning form,That in the darkness meetsThe delegated youth?Dim as the shadow of a fire at noon,Or pale reflection on the evening brookOf Glow-worm on the bankKindled to guide her winged paramour.A moment, and the brightening image shapedHis 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 givenA mother’s kiss ... his arms outstretched,His body bending on,His lips unclosed and trembling into speechHe prest to meet the blessing,... but the windPlayed on his cheek: he looked, and he beheldThe darkness close. “Again! again!” he cried,“Let me again behold thee!” from the darknessHis 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 GodRides thro’ rejoicing heaven.Old Moath and his daughter from their tentBeheld the adventurous youth,Dark moving o’er the sands,A lessening image, trembling thro’ their tears.Visions of high emprizeBeguiled his lonely road;And if sometimes to Moath’s tentThe involuntary mind recurred,Fancy, impatient of all painful thoughtsPictured the bliss should welcome his return.In dreams like these he went,And still of every dreamOneiza 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 boughsHe chose his night’s abode.There, due ablutions made and prayers performed,The youth his mantle spread,And silently producedHis solitary meal.The silence and the solitude recalledDear recollections, and with folded arms,Thinking of other days, he sate, till thoughtHad left him, and the Acacia’s moving shadeUpon the sunny sandHad caught his idle eye,And his awakened earHeard 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 ageBore 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 themThe large broad eye-brow curled....His speech was copious, and his winning wordsEnriched with knowledge, that the attentive youthSate listening with a thirsty joy.So in the course of talkThe adventurer youth enquiredWhither his course was bent;The Old Man answered, “to Bagdad I go.”At that so welcome sound a flash of joyKindled 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 nowI 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 worldIndustrious merchants meet, and market thereThe World’s collected wealth.THALABA.Stands not BagdadNear to the site of ancient BabylonAnd 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 usHow great our[70]fathers were, how little we.Men are not what they were; their crimes and folliesHave dwarfed them down from the old hero raceTo such poor things as we!THALABA.At BabylonI have heard the Angels expiate their guilt,Haruth and Maruth.OLD MAN.’Tis a historyHanded from ages down; the nurses make itA tale to please their children,And as their garrulous ignorance relatesWe learn it and believe ... but all things feelThe power of Time and Change! thistles and grassUsurp the desolate palace, and the weedsOf Falshood root in the aged pile of Truth.How have you heard the tale?THALABA.Thus ... on a timeThe Angels at the wickedness of manExpressed indignant wonder: that in vainTokens and signs were given, and Prophets sent,...Strange obstinacy this! a stubbornessOf sin, they said, that should for ever barThe gates of mercy on them. Allah heardTheir unforgiving pride, and bade that twoOf these untempted Spirits should descend,Judges on earth. Haruth and Maruth went,The chosen Sentencers; they fairly heardThe appeals of men to their tribunal brought,And rightfully decided. At the lengthA Woman came before them ... beautifulZohara was, as yonder Evening star,In the mild lustre[71]of whose lovely lightEven now her beauty shines. They gazed on herWith fleshly eyes, they tempted her to sin.The wily woman listened, and requiredA previous price, the knowledge of the name[72]Of God. She learnt the wonder-working nameAnd gave it utterance, and its virtue bore herUp to the glorious Presence, and she toldBefore 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 everHis wrath might be upon them; and imploredThat penal ages might at length restore themClean from offence, since then by BabylonIn 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 heardHow that the bold and bad, with impious ritesIntrude 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 sandsMove 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, fanciedFamiliar object into some strange shapeAnd form uncouth?THALABA.Aye! many a time.OLD MAN.Even soThings viewed at distance thro’ the mist of fear,In their distortion terrify and shockThe abused sight.THALABA.But of these Angels fateThus in the uncreated Book is written.OLD MAN.Wisely from legendary fables, HeavenInculcates wisdom.THALABA.How then is the truth?Is not the dungeon of their punishmentBy ruined Babylon?OLD MAN.By BabylonHaruth and Maruth may be found.THALABA.And thereMagician learn their impious sorcery?OLD MAN.Son what thou sayest is true, and it is false.But night approaches fast; I have travelled farAnd my old lids are heavy ... on our wayWe shall have hours for converse, let us nowTurn to our due repose. Son, peace be with thee!So in his loosened cloakThe Old Man wrapt[74]himselfAnd 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 boughsA mazy fretting framed,Or with a pale transparent greenLighting the restless leaves,The thin Acacia leaves that played above.The murmuring wind, the moving leavesLulled him to sleep with mingled lullabies.Not so the dark Magician by his side,Lobaba, who from the Domdaniel cavesHad sought the dreaded youth.Silent he lay, and simulating sleep,Till by the long and regular breath he knewThe youth beside him slept.Carefully then he rose,And bending over him, surveyed him nearAnd secretly he cursedThe dead Abdaldar’s ring,Armed by whose amuletHe 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 returnedA quiet, moveless light.Vainly the Wizard vile put forth his handAnd 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 waitTemptations likelier aid.Restless he lay, and brooding many a wile,And tortured with impatient hope,And envying with the bitterness of hateThe innocent youth, who slept so sweetly by.The ray of morning on his eye lids fell,And Thalaba awokeAnd 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 formsOf righteousness and prayer insulted God.They filled their water skin, they gaveThe Camel his full draught.Then on their road while yet the morn was youngAnd the air was fresh with dew,Forward the travellers went,With various talk beguiling the long way.But soon the youth, whose busy mindDwelt 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 BabylonForbidden knowledge from the Angel pair....How mean you?LOBABA.All things have a double power,Alike for good and evil, the same fireThat on the comfortable hearth at eveWarmed the good man, flames o’er the house at nightShould we for this foregoThe needful element?Because the scorching summer SunDarts fever, wouldst thou quench the orb of day?Or deemest thou that Heaven in anger formedIron to till the field, because when manHad tipt his arrows for the chase, he rushedA 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 manPraiseworthy who by painful study learnsThe knowledge of all simples, and their powerHealing or harmful?THALABA.All men hold in honourThe skilful Leech. From land to land he goesSafe in his privilege; the sword of warSpares him, Kings welcome him with costly gifts,And he who late had from the couch of painLifted a languid look to him for aid,Views him with brightened eyes, and blesses himIn his first thankful prayer.LOBABA.Yet some there areWho to the purposes of wickedness,Apply this knowledge, and from herbs distilPoison to mix it in the trusted draught.THALABA.Allah shall cast them in the fireWhose fuel is the cursed! there shall theyEndure the ever-burning agonyConsuming[75]still in flames, and still renewed.LOBABA.But is their knowledge therefore in itselfUnlawful?THALABA.That were foolishness to think.LOBABA.O what a glorious animal were Man,Knew he but his own powers! and knowing gave themRoom for their growth and spread! the Horse obeysHis guiding will, the patient Camel bears himOver these wastes of sand, the Pigeon waftsHis bidding thro’ the sky: and with these triumphsHe rests contented! with these ministers,When he might awe the Elements, and makeMyriads of Spirits serve him!THALABA.But as how!By a league with Hell, a covenant that bindsThe soul to utter death!LOBABA.Was SolomonAccurst of God? yet to his talismansObedient, o’er his throne the birds of HeavenTheir waving wings[76]his sun-shield, fanned around himThe motionless air of noon: from place to place,As his will reined the viewless ElementHe rode the Wind: the Genii reared his temple,And ceaselessly in fear while his dead eyeO’erlooked them, day and night pursued their toil,So dreadful was his power.THALABA.But ’twas from HeavenHis wisdom came; God’s special gift ... the guerdonOf early virtue.LOBABA.Learn thou, O young man!God hath appointed Wisdom the rewardOf study! ’tis a spring of living waters,Whose inexhaustible bounties all might drinkBut few dig deep enough. Son! thou art silent,...Perhaps I say too much,... perhaps offend thee.THALABA.Nay, I am young, and willingly as becomes me,Hear the wise words of age.LOBABA.Is it a crimeTo mount the horse, because forsooth thy feetCan serve thee for the journey? is it sinBecause the Hern soars upward in the skyAbove the arrow’s flight, to train the FalconWhose beak shall pierce him there? the powers which AllGranted to man, were granted for his use;All knowledge that befits not human weaknessIs placed beyond its reach.... They who repairTo Babylon, and from the Angels learnMysterious wisdom, sin not in the deed.THALABA.Know you these secrets?LOBABA.I? alas my SonMy age just knows enough to understandHow little all its knowledge! later yearsSacred to study, teach me to regretYouth’s unforeseeing indolence, and hoursThat cannot be recalled! something I know:The properties of herbs, and have sometimesBrought to the afflicted comfort and reliefBy the secrets of my art; under His blessingWithout whom all had failed! Also of GemsI have some knowledge, and the charactersThat tell beneath what aspect they were set.THALABA.Belike you can interpret then the gravingAround this Ring?LOBABA.My sight is feeble, Son,And I must view it closer, let me try!The unsuspecting YouthHeld forth his linger to draw off the spell.Even whilst he held it forth,There settled there a Wasp,And just above the Gem infixed its dart.All purple swoln the hot and painful fleshRose round the tightened Ring.The baffled Sorcerer knew the hand of Heaven,And inwardly blasphemed.Ere long Lobaba’s heart,Fruitful in wiles, devised new stratagem.A mist arose at noon;Like the loose hanging skirtsOf some low cloud that, by the breeze impelled,Sweeps o’er the mountain side.With joy the thoughtless youthThat grateful shadowing hailed;For grateful was the shade,While thro’ the silver-lighted hazeGuiding their way, appeared the beamless Sun.But soon that beacon failed;A heavier mass of cloudImpenetrably deep,Hung o’er the wilderness.“Knowest thou the track?” quoth Thalaba,“Or should we pause, and wait the wind“To scatter this bewildering fog?”The Sorcerer answered him“Now let us hold right on,... for if we stray“The Sun tomorrow will direct our course.”So saying, he towards the desert depthsMisleads the youth deceived.Earlier the night came on,Nor moon, nor stars, were visible in Heaven;And when at morn the youth unclosed his eyesHe knew not where to turn his face in prayer.“What shall we do?” Lobaba cried,“The lights of Heaven have ceased“To guide us on our way.“Should we remain and wait“More favourable skies?“Soon would our food and water fail us here!“And if we venture on,“There are the dangers of the wilderness!”“Sure it were best proceed!”The chosen youth replies.“So haply we may reach some tent, or grove“Of dates, or stationed tribe.“But idly to remain“Were yielding effortless, and waiting death.”The wily Sorcerer willingly assents,And farther in the sands,Elate of heart, he leads the credulous youth.Still o’er the wildernessSettled the moveless mist.The timid Antelope that heard their stepsStood doubtful where to turn in that dim light,The Ostrich, blindly hastening, met them full.At night again in hope,Young Thalaba laid down;The morning came, and not one guiding rayThro’ the thick mist was visible,The same deep moveless mist that mantled all.Oh for the Vulture’s screamThat haunts for prey the abode of humankind!Oh for the Plover’s[77]pleasant cryTo tell of water near!Oh for the Camel-driver’s[78]song!For now the water-skin grows light,Tho’ of the draught, more eagerly desired,Imperious prudence took with sparing thirst.Oft from the third night’s broken sleep,As in his dreams he heardThe sound of rushing winds,Started the anxious youth, and looked abroad,In vain! for still the deadly calm endured.Another day past on,The water-skin was drained,But then one hope arrivedFor there was motion in the air!The sound of the wind arose anonThat scattered the thick mist,And lo! at length the lovely face of Heaven!Alas ... a wretched sceneWas opened on their view.They looked around, no wells were near,No tent, no human aid!Flat on the Camel lay the water-skin,And their dumb servant difficultly now,Over hot sands and under the hot sun,Dragged on with patient pain.But oh the joy! the blessed sight!When in the burning waste the TravellersSaw a green meadow, fair with flowers besprent,Azure and yellow, like the beautiful fieldsOf England, when amid the growing grassThe blue-bell bends, the golden king-cup shines,In the merry month of May!Oh joy! the TravellersGaze on each other with hope-brightened eyes,For sure thro’ that green meadow flowsThe living stream! and lo! their famished beastSees the restoring sight!Hope gives his feeble limbs a sudden strength,He hurries on!The herbs so fair to eyeWere Senna, and the Gentian’s blossom blue,And kindred plants that with unwatered rootFed in the burning sand, whose bitter leavesEven frantic[79]Famine loathed.In uncommunicating miserySilent they stood. At length Lobaba cried,“Son we must slay the Camel, or we die“For lack of water! thy young hand is firm,“Draw forth the knife and pierce him!”Wretch accurst,Who that beheld thy venerable face,Thy features fixed with suffering, the dry lips,The feverish eyes, could deem that all withinWas magic ease, and fearlessness secure,And wiles of hellish import? the young manPaused with reluctant pity: but he sawHis comrade’s red and painful countenance,And his own burning breath came short and quick,And at his feet the gasping beastLies, over-worn with want.Then from his[80]girdle Thalaba took the knifeWith stern compassion, and from side to sideAcross[81]the Camel’s throat,Drew deep the crooked blade.Servant of man, that merciful deedFor ever ends thy suffering, but what doomWaits thy deliverer! “little will thy death“Avail us!” thought the youth,As in the water-skin he pouredThe Camel’s hoarded draught:It gave a scant supply,The poor allowance of one prudent day.Son of Hodeirah, tho’ thy steady soulDespaired not, firm in faith,Yet not the less did suffering Nature feelHer pangs and trials, long their craving thirstStruggled with fear, by fear itself inflamed;But drop by drop, that poor,That last supply is drained!Still the same burning sun! no cloud in heaven!The hot air quivers, and the sultry mistFloats o’er the desert, with a showOf distant[82]waters, mocking their distress!The youth’s parched lips were black,His tongue was[83]dry and rough,His eye-balls red with heat.His comrade gazed on him with looksThat seemed to speak of pity, and he said“Let me behold thy Ring,“It may have virtue that can save us yet!”With that he took his handAnd viewed the writing close,Then cried with sudden joy“It is a stone that whoso bears“The Genii must obey!“Now raise thy voice, my Son,“And bid them in his name that here is written“Preserve us in our need.”“Nay!” answered Thalaba,“Shall I distrust the providence of God?“Is it not He must save?“If Allah wills it not“Vain were the Genii’s aid.”Whilst he spake Lobaba’s eyeFull on the distance fixed,Attended not his speech.Its fearful meaning drewThe looks of Thalaba.Columns of sand came moving on,Red in the burning rayLike obelisks of fireThey rushed before the driving wind.Vain were all thoughts of flight!They had not hoped escapeCould they have backed the Dromedary thenWho in his rapid raceGives to the tranquil[84]air, a drowning force.High ... high in heaven upcurledThe dreadful[85]columns moved,Swift, as the whirlwind that impelled their way,They rushed towards the Travellers!The old Magician shrieked,And lo! the foremost bursts,Before the whirlwind’s force,Scattering afar a burning shower of sand.“Now by the virtue of the Ring“Save us!” Lobaba cried.“While yet thou hast the power“Save us. O save us! now!”The youth made no reply,Gazing in aweful wonder on the scene.“Why dost thou wait?” the Old Man exclaimed,“If Allah and the Prophet will not save“Call on the Powers that will!”“Ha! do I know thee, Infidel accurst?”Exclaimed the awakened youth.“And thou hast led me hither, Child of Sin!“That fear might make me sell“My soul to endless death!”“Fool that thou art!” Lobaba cried,“Call upon him whose name“Thy charmed signet bears,“Or die the death thy foolishness deserves!”“Servant of Hell! die thou!” quoth Thalaba.And leaning on his bowHe fitted the loose string,And laid the arrow in its resting-place.“Bow of my Father, do thy duty now!”He drew the arrow to its point,True to his eye it fled,And full upon the breastIt smote the wizard man.Astonished Thalaba beheldThe blunted point recoil.A proud and bitter smileWrinkled Lobaba’s cheek,“Try once again thine earthly arms!” he cried.“Rash Boy! the Power I serve“Abandons not his votaries.“It is for Allah’s wretched slaves, like thou,“To serve a master, who in the hour of need“Forsakes them to their fate!“I leave thee!”... and he shook his staff, and calledThe Chariot of his Charms.Swift as the viewless wind,Self-moved, the Chariot came,The Sorcerer mounts the seat.“Yet once more weigh thy danger!” he exclaimed,“Ascend the car with me,“And with the speed of thought“We pass the desert bounds.”The indignant youth vouchsafed not to reply,And lo! the magic car begins its course!Hark! hark!... he screams.... Lobaba screams!What wretch, and hast thou raisedThe rushing Terrors of the WildernessTo fall on thine own head?Death! death! inevitable death!Driven by the breath of GodA column of the Desert met his way.
Whose is yon dawning form,That in the darkness meetsThe delegated youth?Dim as the shadow of a fire at noon,Or pale reflection on the evening brookOf Glow-worm on the bankKindled to guide her winged paramour.
A moment, and the brightening image shapedHis 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 givenA mother’s kiss ... his arms outstretched,His body bending on,His lips unclosed and trembling into speechHe prest to meet the blessing,... but the windPlayed on his cheek: he looked, and he beheldThe darkness close. “Again! again!” he cried,“Let me again behold thee!” from the darknessHis 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 GodRides thro’ rejoicing heaven.Old Moath and his daughter from their tentBeheld the adventurous youth,Dark moving o’er the sands,A lessening image, trembling thro’ their tears.Visions of high emprizeBeguiled his lonely road;And if sometimes to Moath’s tentThe involuntary mind recurred,Fancy, impatient of all painful thoughtsPictured the bliss should welcome his return.In dreams like these he went,And still of every dreamOneiza 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 boughsHe chose his night’s abode.There, due ablutions made and prayers performed,The youth his mantle spread,And silently producedHis solitary meal.The silence and the solitude recalledDear recollections, and with folded arms,Thinking of other days, he sate, till thoughtHad left him, and the Acacia’s moving shadeUpon the sunny sandHad caught his idle eye,And his awakened earHeard 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 ageBore 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 themThe large broad eye-brow curled....His speech was copious, and his winning wordsEnriched with knowledge, that the attentive youthSate listening with a thirsty joy.
So in the course of talkThe adventurer youth enquiredWhither his course was bent;The Old Man answered, “to Bagdad I go.”At that so welcome sound a flash of joyKindled 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 nowI 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 worldIndustrious merchants meet, and market thereThe World’s collected wealth.
THALABA.
Stands not BagdadNear to the site of ancient BabylonAnd 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 usHow great our[70]fathers were, how little we.Men are not what they were; their crimes and folliesHave dwarfed them down from the old hero raceTo such poor things as we!
THALABA.
At BabylonI have heard the Angels expiate their guilt,Haruth and Maruth.
OLD MAN.
’Tis a historyHanded from ages down; the nurses make itA tale to please their children,And as their garrulous ignorance relatesWe learn it and believe ... but all things feelThe power of Time and Change! thistles and grassUsurp the desolate palace, and the weedsOf Falshood root in the aged pile of Truth.How have you heard the tale?
THALABA.
Thus ... on a timeThe Angels at the wickedness of manExpressed indignant wonder: that in vainTokens and signs were given, and Prophets sent,...Strange obstinacy this! a stubbornessOf sin, they said, that should for ever barThe gates of mercy on them. Allah heardTheir unforgiving pride, and bade that twoOf these untempted Spirits should descend,Judges on earth. Haruth and Maruth went,The chosen Sentencers; they fairly heardThe appeals of men to their tribunal brought,And rightfully decided. At the lengthA Woman came before them ... beautifulZohara was, as yonder Evening star,In the mild lustre[71]of whose lovely lightEven now her beauty shines. They gazed on herWith fleshly eyes, they tempted her to sin.The wily woman listened, and requiredA previous price, the knowledge of the name[72]Of God. She learnt the wonder-working nameAnd gave it utterance, and its virtue bore herUp to the glorious Presence, and she toldBefore 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 everHis wrath might be upon them; and imploredThat penal ages might at length restore themClean from offence, since then by BabylonIn 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 heardHow that the bold and bad, with impious ritesIntrude 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 sandsMove 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, fanciedFamiliar object into some strange shapeAnd form uncouth?
THALABA.
Aye! many a time.
OLD MAN.
Even soThings viewed at distance thro’ the mist of fear,In their distortion terrify and shockThe abused sight.
THALABA.
But of these Angels fateThus in the uncreated Book is written.
OLD MAN.
Wisely from legendary fables, HeavenInculcates wisdom.
THALABA.
How then is the truth?Is not the dungeon of their punishmentBy ruined Babylon?
OLD MAN.
By BabylonHaruth and Maruth may be found.
THALABA.And thereMagician learn their impious sorcery?
OLD MAN.
Son what thou sayest is true, and it is false.But night approaches fast; I have travelled farAnd my old lids are heavy ... on our wayWe shall have hours for converse, let us nowTurn to our due repose. Son, peace be with thee!
So in his loosened cloakThe Old Man wrapt[74]himselfAnd 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 boughsA mazy fretting framed,Or with a pale transparent greenLighting the restless leaves,The thin Acacia leaves that played above.The murmuring wind, the moving leavesLulled him to sleep with mingled lullabies.
Not so the dark Magician by his side,Lobaba, who from the Domdaniel cavesHad sought the dreaded youth.Silent he lay, and simulating sleep,Till by the long and regular breath he knewThe youth beside him slept.Carefully then he rose,And bending over him, surveyed him nearAnd secretly he cursedThe dead Abdaldar’s ring,Armed by whose amuletHe 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 returnedA quiet, moveless light.Vainly the Wizard vile put forth his handAnd 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 waitTemptations likelier aid.Restless he lay, and brooding many a wile,And tortured with impatient hope,And envying with the bitterness of hateThe innocent youth, who slept so sweetly by.
The ray of morning on his eye lids fell,And Thalaba awokeAnd 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 formsOf righteousness and prayer insulted God.They filled their water skin, they gaveThe Camel his full draught.Then on their road while yet the morn was youngAnd the air was fresh with dew,Forward the travellers went,With various talk beguiling the long way.But soon the youth, whose busy mindDwelt 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 BabylonForbidden knowledge from the Angel pair....How mean you?
LOBABA.
All things have a double power,Alike for good and evil, the same fireThat on the comfortable hearth at eveWarmed the good man, flames o’er the house at nightShould we for this foregoThe needful element?Because the scorching summer SunDarts fever, wouldst thou quench the orb of day?Or deemest thou that Heaven in anger formedIron to till the field, because when manHad tipt his arrows for the chase, he rushedA 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 manPraiseworthy who by painful study learnsThe knowledge of all simples, and their powerHealing or harmful?
THALABA.
All men hold in honourThe skilful Leech. From land to land he goesSafe in his privilege; the sword of warSpares him, Kings welcome him with costly gifts,And he who late had from the couch of painLifted a languid look to him for aid,Views him with brightened eyes, and blesses himIn his first thankful prayer.
LOBABA.
Yet some there areWho to the purposes of wickedness,Apply this knowledge, and from herbs distilPoison to mix it in the trusted draught.
THALABA.
Allah shall cast them in the fireWhose fuel is the cursed! there shall theyEndure the ever-burning agonyConsuming[75]still in flames, and still renewed.
LOBABA.
But is their knowledge therefore in itselfUnlawful?
THALABA.
That were foolishness to think.
LOBABA.
O what a glorious animal were Man,Knew he but his own powers! and knowing gave themRoom for their growth and spread! the Horse obeysHis guiding will, the patient Camel bears himOver these wastes of sand, the Pigeon waftsHis bidding thro’ the sky: and with these triumphsHe rests contented! with these ministers,When he might awe the Elements, and makeMyriads of Spirits serve him!
THALABA.
But as how!By a league with Hell, a covenant that bindsThe soul to utter death!
LOBABA.
Was SolomonAccurst of God? yet to his talismansObedient, o’er his throne the birds of HeavenTheir waving wings[76]his sun-shield, fanned around himThe motionless air of noon: from place to place,As his will reined the viewless ElementHe rode the Wind: the Genii reared his temple,And ceaselessly in fear while his dead eyeO’erlooked them, day and night pursued their toil,So dreadful was his power.
THALABA.
But ’twas from HeavenHis wisdom came; God’s special gift ... the guerdonOf early virtue.
LOBABA.
Learn thou, O young man!God hath appointed Wisdom the rewardOf study! ’tis a spring of living waters,Whose inexhaustible bounties all might drinkBut few dig deep enough. Son! thou art silent,...Perhaps I say too much,... perhaps offend thee.
THALABA.
Nay, I am young, and willingly as becomes me,Hear the wise words of age.
LOBABA.
Is it a crimeTo mount the horse, because forsooth thy feetCan serve thee for the journey? is it sinBecause the Hern soars upward in the skyAbove the arrow’s flight, to train the FalconWhose beak shall pierce him there? the powers which AllGranted to man, were granted for his use;All knowledge that befits not human weaknessIs placed beyond its reach.... They who repairTo Babylon, and from the Angels learnMysterious wisdom, sin not in the deed.
THALABA.
Know you these secrets?
LOBABA.
I? alas my SonMy age just knows enough to understandHow little all its knowledge! later yearsSacred to study, teach me to regretYouth’s unforeseeing indolence, and hoursThat cannot be recalled! something I know:The properties of herbs, and have sometimesBrought to the afflicted comfort and reliefBy the secrets of my art; under His blessingWithout whom all had failed! Also of GemsI have some knowledge, and the charactersThat tell beneath what aspect they were set.
THALABA.
Belike you can interpret then the gravingAround this Ring?
LOBABA.
My sight is feeble, Son,And I must view it closer, let me try!
The unsuspecting YouthHeld forth his linger to draw off the spell.Even whilst he held it forth,There settled there a Wasp,And just above the Gem infixed its dart.All purple swoln the hot and painful fleshRose round the tightened Ring.The baffled Sorcerer knew the hand of Heaven,And inwardly blasphemed.
Ere long Lobaba’s heart,Fruitful in wiles, devised new stratagem.A mist arose at noon;Like the loose hanging skirtsOf some low cloud that, by the breeze impelled,Sweeps o’er the mountain side.With joy the thoughtless youthThat grateful shadowing hailed;For grateful was the shade,While thro’ the silver-lighted hazeGuiding their way, appeared the beamless Sun.But soon that beacon failed;A heavier mass of cloudImpenetrably deep,Hung o’er the wilderness.“Knowest thou the track?” quoth Thalaba,“Or should we pause, and wait the wind“To scatter this bewildering fog?”The Sorcerer answered him“Now let us hold right on,... for if we stray“The Sun tomorrow will direct our course.”So saying, he towards the desert depthsMisleads the youth deceived.
Earlier the night came on,Nor moon, nor stars, were visible in Heaven;And when at morn the youth unclosed his eyesHe knew not where to turn his face in prayer.“What shall we do?” Lobaba cried,“The lights of Heaven have ceased“To guide us on our way.“Should we remain and wait“More favourable skies?“Soon would our food and water fail us here!“And if we venture on,“There are the dangers of the wilderness!”“Sure it were best proceed!”The chosen youth replies.“So haply we may reach some tent, or grove“Of dates, or stationed tribe.“But idly to remain“Were yielding effortless, and waiting death.”The wily Sorcerer willingly assents,And farther in the sands,Elate of heart, he leads the credulous youth.
Still o’er the wildernessSettled the moveless mist.The timid Antelope that heard their stepsStood doubtful where to turn in that dim light,The Ostrich, blindly hastening, met them full.At night again in hope,Young Thalaba laid down;The morning came, and not one guiding rayThro’ the thick mist was visible,The same deep moveless mist that mantled all.Oh for the Vulture’s screamThat haunts for prey the abode of humankind!Oh for the Plover’s[77]pleasant cryTo tell of water near!Oh for the Camel-driver’s[78]song!For now the water-skin grows light,Tho’ of the draught, more eagerly desired,Imperious prudence took with sparing thirst.Oft from the third night’s broken sleep,As in his dreams he heardThe sound of rushing winds,Started the anxious youth, and looked abroad,In vain! for still the deadly calm endured.Another day past on,The water-skin was drained,But then one hope arrivedFor there was motion in the air!The sound of the wind arose anonThat scattered the thick mist,And lo! at length the lovely face of Heaven!
Alas ... a wretched sceneWas opened on their view.They looked around, no wells were near,No tent, no human aid!Flat on the Camel lay the water-skin,And their dumb servant difficultly now,Over hot sands and under the hot sun,Dragged on with patient pain.But oh the joy! the blessed sight!When in the burning waste the TravellersSaw a green meadow, fair with flowers besprent,Azure and yellow, like the beautiful fieldsOf England, when amid the growing grassThe blue-bell bends, the golden king-cup shines,In the merry month of May!Oh joy! the TravellersGaze on each other with hope-brightened eyes,For sure thro’ that green meadow flowsThe living stream! and lo! their famished beastSees the restoring sight!Hope gives his feeble limbs a sudden strength,He hurries on!The herbs so fair to eyeWere Senna, and the Gentian’s blossom blue,And kindred plants that with unwatered rootFed in the burning sand, whose bitter leavesEven frantic[79]Famine loathed.
In uncommunicating miserySilent they stood. At length Lobaba cried,“Son we must slay the Camel, or we die“For lack of water! thy young hand is firm,“Draw forth the knife and pierce him!”Wretch accurst,Who that beheld thy venerable face,Thy features fixed with suffering, the dry lips,The feverish eyes, could deem that all withinWas magic ease, and fearlessness secure,And wiles of hellish import? the young manPaused with reluctant pity: but he sawHis comrade’s red and painful countenance,And his own burning breath came short and quick,And at his feet the gasping beastLies, over-worn with want.Then from his[80]girdle Thalaba took the knifeWith stern compassion, and from side to sideAcross[81]the Camel’s throat,Drew deep the crooked blade.Servant of man, that merciful deedFor ever ends thy suffering, but what doomWaits thy deliverer! “little will thy death“Avail us!” thought the youth,As in the water-skin he pouredThe Camel’s hoarded draught:It gave a scant supply,The poor allowance of one prudent day.
Son of Hodeirah, tho’ thy steady soulDespaired not, firm in faith,Yet not the less did suffering Nature feelHer pangs and trials, long their craving thirstStruggled with fear, by fear itself inflamed;But drop by drop, that poor,That last supply is drained!Still the same burning sun! no cloud in heaven!The hot air quivers, and the sultry mistFloats o’er the desert, with a showOf distant[82]waters, mocking their distress!The youth’s parched lips were black,His tongue was[83]dry and rough,His eye-balls red with heat.His comrade gazed on him with looksThat seemed to speak of pity, and he said“Let me behold thy Ring,“It may have virtue that can save us yet!”With that he took his handAnd viewed the writing close,Then cried with sudden joy“It is a stone that whoso bears“The Genii must obey!“Now raise thy voice, my Son,“And bid them in his name that here is written“Preserve us in our need.”
“Nay!” answered Thalaba,“Shall I distrust the providence of God?“Is it not He must save?“If Allah wills it not“Vain were the Genii’s aid.”
Whilst he spake Lobaba’s eyeFull on the distance fixed,Attended not his speech.Its fearful meaning drewThe looks of Thalaba.Columns of sand came moving on,Red in the burning rayLike obelisks of fireThey rushed before the driving wind.Vain were all thoughts of flight!They had not hoped escapeCould they have backed the Dromedary thenWho in his rapid raceGives to the tranquil[84]air, a drowning force.
High ... high in heaven upcurledThe dreadful[85]columns moved,Swift, as the whirlwind that impelled their way,They rushed towards the Travellers!The old Magician shrieked,And lo! the foremost bursts,Before the whirlwind’s force,Scattering afar a burning shower of sand.“Now by the virtue of the Ring“Save us!” Lobaba cried.“While yet thou hast the power“Save us. O save us! now!”The youth made no reply,Gazing in aweful wonder on the scene.
“Why dost thou wait?” the Old Man exclaimed,“If Allah and the Prophet will not save“Call on the Powers that will!”
“Ha! do I know thee, Infidel accurst?”Exclaimed the awakened youth.“And thou hast led me hither, Child of Sin!“That fear might make me sell“My soul to endless death!”
“Fool that thou art!” Lobaba cried,“Call upon him whose name“Thy charmed signet bears,“Or die the death thy foolishness deserves!”
“Servant of Hell! die thou!” quoth Thalaba.And leaning on his bowHe fitted the loose string,And laid the arrow in its resting-place.“Bow of my Father, do thy duty now!”He drew the arrow to its point,True to his eye it fled,And full upon the breastIt smote the wizard man.Astonished Thalaba beheldThe blunted point recoil.
A proud and bitter smileWrinkled Lobaba’s cheek,“Try once again thine earthly arms!” he cried.“Rash Boy! the Power I serve“Abandons not his votaries.“It is for Allah’s wretched slaves, like thou,“To serve a master, who in the hour of need“Forsakes them to their fate!“I leave thee!”... and he shook his staff, and calledThe Chariot of his Charms.
Swift as the viewless wind,Self-moved, the Chariot came,The Sorcerer mounts the seat.“Yet once more weigh thy danger!” he exclaimed,“Ascend the car with me,“And with the speed of thought“We pass the desert bounds.”The indignant youth vouchsafed not to reply,And lo! the magic car begins its course!Hark! hark!... he screams.... Lobaba screams!What wretch, and hast thou raisedThe rushing Terrors of the WildernessTo fall on thine own head?Death! death! inevitable death!Driven by the breath of GodA column of the Desert met his way.
When Thalaba from adoration rose,The air was cool, the skyWith welcome clouds o’ercast,That soon came down in rain.He lifted up his fevered face to heaven,And bared his head and stretched his handsTo that delightful shower,And felt the coolness flow thro’ every limbFreshening his powers of life.A loud quick panting! Thalaba looks up,He starts, and his instinctive handGrasps the knife hilt: for close besideA Tyger passes him.An indolent and languid eyeThe passing Tyger turned;His head was hanging down,His dry tongue lolling low,And the short panting of his fevered breathCame thro’ his hot parched nostrils painfully.The young Arabian knewThe purport of his hurried pace,And following him in hopeSaw joyful from afarThe Tyger stoop and drink.The desert Pelican had built her nestIn that deep solitude.And now returned from distant flightFraught with the river stream,Her load of water had disburthened there.Her young in the refreshing bathSported all wantonness;Dipt down their callow heads,Filled the swoln membrane from their plumeless throatPendant, and bills yet soft,And buoyant with arched breast,Plied in unpractised strokeThe oars of their broad feet.They, as the spotted prowler of the wildLaps the cool wave, around their mother croud,And nestle underneath her outspread wings.The spotted prowler of the wildLapt the cool wave,[86]and satiate from the nest,Guiltless of blood, withdrew.The mother bird had moved notBut cowering o’er her nestlings,Sate confident and fearless,And watched the wonted guest.But when the human visitant approached,The alarmed PelicanRetiring from that hostile shape,Gathers her young, and menaces with wings,And forward thrusts her threatening neck,Its feathers ruffling in her wrath,Bold with maternal fear.Thalaba drank and in the water-skinHoarded the precious element.Not all he took, but in the large nest leftStore that sufficed for life.And journeying onward blest the Carrier Bird,And blest in thankfulness,Their common Father, provident for all.With strength renewed and confident in faithThe son of Hodeirah proceeds;Till after the long toil of many a day,At length Bagdad appeared,The City of his search.He hastening to the gateRoams o’er the city with insatiate eyes,Its thousand dwellings o’er whose level roofsFair cupolas appeared, and high-domed mosquesAnd pointed minarets, and cypress grovesEvery where scattered[87]in unwithering green.Thou too art fallen, Bagdad! City of[88]Peace,Thou too hast had thy day!And loathsome Ignorance and brute ServitudePollute thy dwellings now,Erst for the Mighty and the Wise renowned.O yet illustrious for remembered fame,Thy founder the[89]Victorious, and the pompOf Haroun, for whose name by blood defiled,Jahia’s, and the blameless Barmecides’,Genius hath wrought salvation; and the yearsWhen Science with the good Al-Maimon dwelt;So one day may the Crescent from thy MosquesBe plucked by Wisdom, when the enlightened armOf Europe conquers to redeem the East.Then Pomp and Pleasure dwelt within her wallsThe Merchants of the East and of the WestMet in her arched[90]Bazars;All day the active poorShowered a cool comfort o’er her thronging streets;Labour was busy in her looms;Thro’ all her open gatesLong troops of laden Camels lined her roads,And Tigris on his tameless[91]current boreArmenian harvests to her multitudes.But not in sumptuous CaravansaryThe adventurer idles there,Nor satiates wonder with her pomp and wealth;A long day’s distance from the wallsStands ruined Babylon!The time of action is at hand,The hope that for so many a yearHath been his daily thought, his nightly dream,Stings to more restlessness.He loathes all lingering that delays the hourWhen, full of glory, from his quest returned,He on the pillar of the Tent belovedShall hang Hodeirah’s sword.The many-coloured[92]domesYet wore one dusky hue,The Cranes upon the MosqueKept their night-clatter[93]still,When thro’ the gate the early Traveller past.And when at evening o’er the swampy plainThe Bittern’s[94]Boom came far,Distinct in darkness seenAbove the low horizon’s lingering lightRose the near ruins of old Babylon.Once from her lofty walls[95]the CharioteerLooked down on swarming myriads; once she flungHer arches o’er Euphrates conquered tide,And thro’ her brazen portals when she pouredHer armies forth, the distant nations lookedAs men who watched the thunder-cloud in fearLest it should burst above them. She was fallen,The Queen of Cities, Babylon was fallen!Low lay her bulwarks; the black scorpion baskedIn the palace courts, within her sanctuaryThe She Wolf hid her whelps.Is yonder huge and shapeless heap, what onceHad been the aerial[96]Gardens, height on heightRising like Medias mountains crowned with wood,Work of imperial dotage? where the fameOf[97]Belus? where the Golden Image now,Which at the sound of dulcimer and lute,Cornet and sackbut, harp and psaltery,The Assyrian slaves adored?A labyrinth of ruins, BabylonSpreads o’er the blasted plain:The wandering Arab never sets his tentWithin her walls; the Shepherd[98]eyes afarHer evil Towers, and devious drives his flock.Alone unchanged, a free and bridgeless tideEuphrates rolls along,Eternal Nature’s work.Thro’ the broken portal,Over weedy fragments,Thalaba went his way.Cautious he trod, and feltThe dangerous ground before him with his bow.The Chacal started at his steps,The Stork, alarmed at sound of man,From her broad nest upon the old pillar top,Affrighted fled on flapping wings.The Adder in her haunts disturbedLanced at the intruding staff her arrowy tongue.Twilight and moonshine dimly mingling gaveAn aweful light obscure,Evening not wholly closed,The Moon still pale and faint.An aweful light obscure,Broken by many a mass of blackest shade;Long column stretching dark thro’ weeds and moss,Broad length of lofty wallWhose windows lay in light,And of their former shape, low-arched or square,Rude outline on the earthFigured, with long grass fringed.Reclined against a column’s broken shaft,Unknowing whitherward to bend his wayHe stood and gazed around.The Ruins closed him in,It seemed as if no foot of manFor ages had intruded there.Soon at approaching stepStarting, he turned and sawA warrior in the moon beam drawing near.Forward the Stranger cameAnd with a curious eyePerused the Arab youth.“And who art thou,” he cried,“That at an hour like this“Wanderest in Babylon?“A way-bewildered traveller, seekest thou“The ruinous shelter here?“Or comest thou to hide“The plunder of the night?“Or hast thou spells to make“These ruins, yawning from their rooted base“Disclose their secret[99]wealth?”The youth replied, “nor wandering traveller“Nor robber of the night“Nor skilled in spells am I.“I seek the Angels here,“Haruth and Maruth. Stranger in thy turn,“Why wanderest thou in Babylon,“And who art thou, the Questioner?”The man was fearless, and the tempered prideThat toned the voice of ThalabaDispleased not him, himself of haughty heart.Heedless he answered, “knowest thou“Their cave of punishment?”THALABA.Vainly I seek it.STRANGER.Art thou firm of footTo tread the ways of danger?THALABA.Point the path!STRANGER.Young Arab! if thou hast a heart can beatEvenly in danger, if thy bowels yearn notWith human fears, at scenes where undisgracedThe soldier tried in battle might look backAnd tremble, follow me!... for I am boundInto that cave of horrors.ThalabaGazed on his comrade, he was young, of portStately and strong; belike his face had pleasedA woman’s eye, yet the youth read in itUnrestrained passions, the obdurate soulBold in all evil daring; and it taught,By Nature’s irresistible instinct, doubtWell timed and wary. Of himself assured,Fearless of man, and confident in faith,“Lead on!” cried Thalaba.Mohareb led the way;And thro’ the ruined streets,And thro’ the farther gateThey past in silence on.What sound is borne on the wind?Is it the storm that shakesThe thousand oaks of the forest?But Thalaba’s long locksFlow down his shoulders moveless, and the windIn his loose mantle raises not one fold.Is it the river’s roarDashed down some rocky descent?Along the level plainEuphrates glides unheard.What sound disturbs the night,Loud as the summer forest in the storm,As the river that roars among rocks?And what the heavy cloudThat hangs upon the vale,Thick as the mist o’er a well-watered plainSettling at evening, when the cooler airLets its day-vapours fall;Black as the sulphur-cloudThat thro’ Vesuvius, or from Hecla’s mouthRolls up, ascending from the infernal fires.From Ait’s bitumen[100]lakeThat heavy cloud ascends;That everlasting roarFrom where its gushing springsBoil their black billows up.Silent the Arab youth,Along the verge of that wide lake,Followed Mohareb’s wayTowards a ridge of rocks that banked its side.There from a cave with torrent force,And everlasting roar,The black bitumen rolled.The moonlight lay upon the rocks.Their crags were visible,The shade of jutting cliffs,And where broad lichens whitened some smooth spot,And where the ivy hungIts flowing tresses down.A little way within the caveThe moonlight fell, glossing the sable tideThat gushed tumultuous out.A little way it entered, then the rockArching its entrance, and the winding way,Darkened the unseen depths.No eye of mortal manIf unenabled by enchanted spell,Had pierced those fearful depths.For mingling with the roarOf the portentous torrent, oft were heardShrieks, and wild yells that scaredThe brooding Eagle from her midnight nest.The affrighted countrymenCall it the Mouth of Hell;And ever when their way leads nearThey hurry with averted eyes,And dropping their beads[101]fastPronounce the holy name.There pausing at the cavern mouthMohareb turned to Thalaba,“Now darest thou enter in?”“Behold!” the youth replied,And leading in his turn the dangerous waySet foot within the cave.“Stay Madman!” cried his comrade. “Wouldst thou rush“Headlong to certain death?“Where are thine arms to meet“The Guardian of the Passage?” a loud shriekThat shook along the windings of the caveScattered the youth’s reply.Mohareb when the long reechoing ceasedExclaimed, “Fate favoured thee,“Young Arab! when she wrote[102]upon thy brow“The meeting of to-night;“Else surely had thy name“This hour been blotted from the Book of Life!”So saying from beneathHis cloak a bag he drew;“Young Arab! thou art brave,” he cried,“But thus to rush on danger unprepared,“As lions spring upon the hunter’s spear,“Is blind, brute courage. Zohak[103]keeps the cave,“Giantly tyrant of primeval days.“Force cannot win the passage.” Thus he saidAnd from his wallet drew a human handShrivelled, and dry, and black,And fitting as he spakeA taper in its hold,Pursued: “a murderer on the stake had died,“I drove the Vulture from his limbs, and lopt“The hand that did the murder, and drew up“The tendon-strings to close its grasp,“And in the sun and wind“Parched it, nine weeks exposed.“The Taper,... but not here the place to impart,“Nor hast thou done the rites,“That fit thee to partake the mystery.“Look! it burns clear, but with the air around“Its dead ingredients mingle deathiness.“This when the Keeper of the Cave shall feel,“Maugre the doom of Heaven,“The salutary[104]spell“Shall lull his penal agony to sleep“And leave the passage free.”Thalaba answered not.Nor was there time for answer now,For lo! Mohareb leads,And o’er the vaulted caveTrembles the accursed taper’s feeble light.There where the narrowing chasmRose loftier in the hill,Stood Zohak, wretched man, condemned to keepHis Cave of punishment.His was the frequent screamWhich far away the prowling Chacal heardAnd howled in terror back:For from his shoulders grewTwo snakes of monster size,That ever at his headAimed eager their keen teethTo satiate raving hunger with his brain.He in the eternal conflict oft would seizeTheir swelling necks, and in his giant graspBruise them, and rend their flesh with bloody nails,And howl for agony,Feeling the pangs he gave, for of himselfInseparable parts, his torturers grew.To him approaching nowMohareb held the withered armThe Taper of enchanted power.The unhallowed spell in hand unholy heldNow ministered to mercy, heavilyThe wretche’s eyelids closed,And welcome and unfeltLike the release of deathA sudden sleep fell on his vital powers.Yet tho’ along the caveLay Zohak’s giant limbs,The twin-born serpents kept the narrow pass,Kindled their fiery eyes,Darted their tongues of terror, and rolled outTheir undulating length,Like the long streamers of some gallant shipBuoyed on the wavy air,Still struggling to flow on and still withheld.The scent of living fleshInflamed their appetite.Prepared for all the perils of the caveMohareb came. He from his wallet drewTwo human heads yet warm.O hard of heart! whom not the visible powerOf retributive Justice, and the doomOf Zohak in his sight,Deterred from equal crime!Two human heads, yet warm, he laidBefore the scaly guardians of the pass.They to their wonted banquet of old yearsTurned eager, and the narrow pass was free.And now before their pathThe opening cave dilates;They reach a spacious vaultWhere the black river fountains burst their way.Now as a whirlwind’s forceHad centered on the spring,The gushing flood rolled up;And now the deadened roarEchoed beneath them, as its sudden pauseLeft wide a dark abyss,Adown whose fathomless gulphs the eye was lost.Blue flames that hovered o’er the springsFlung thro’ the Cavern their uncertain lightNow waving on the waves they lay,And now their fiery curlsFlowed in long tresses up,And now contracting glowed with whiter heat.Then up they poured againDarting pale flashes thro’ the tremulous air;The flames, the red and yellow sulphur-smoke,And the black darkness of the vaultCommingling indivisibly.“Here,” quoth Mohareb, “do the Angels dwell,“The Teachers of Enchantment.” ThalabaThen raised his voice and cried,“Haruth and Maruth, hear me! not with rites“Accursed, to disturb your penitence“And learn forbidden lore,“Repentant Angels, seek I your abode.“Me Allah and the Prophet mission here,“Their chosen servant I.“Tell me the Talisman.”...“And dost thou think”“Mohareb cried, as with a scornful smileHe glanced upon his comrade, “dost thou think“To trick them of their secret? for the dupes“Of human-kind keep this lip-righteousness!“’Twill serve thee in the Mosque“And in the Market-place,“But Spirits view the heart.“Only by strong and torturing spells enforced,“Those stubborn Angels teach the charm“By which we must descend.”“Descend!” said Thalaba.But then the wrinkling smileForsook Mohareb’s cheek,And darker feelings settled on his brow.“Now by my soul,” quoth he, “and I believe“Idiot! that I have led“Some camel-kneed prayer-monger thro’ the cave!“What brings thee hither? thou shouldest have a hut“By some Saint’s[105]grave beside the public way,“There to less-knowing fools“Retail thy Koran[106]scraps,“And in thy turn, die civet-like at last“In the dung-perfume of thy sanctity!...“Ye whom I seek! that, led by me,“Feet uninitiate tread“Your threshold, this atones!“Fit sacrifice he falls!”And forth he flashed his scymetar,And raised the murderous blow.Then ceased his power; his lifted arm,Suspended by the spell,Hung impotent to strike.“Poor Hypocrite!” cried he,“And this then is thy faith“In Allah and the Prophet! they had failed“To save thee, but for Magic’s stolen aid;“Yea, they had left thee yonder Serpent’s meal,“But that, in prudent cowardice,“The chosen Servant of the Lord came in,“Safe follower of my path!”“Blasphemer! dost thou boast of guiding me?”Kindling with pride quoth Thalaba,“Blindly the wicked work“The righteous will of Heaven.“Sayest thou that diffident of God,“In magic spell I trust?“Liar! let witness this!”And he drew off Abdaldar’s RingAnd cast it in the gulph.A skinny hand came upAnd caught it as it fell,And peals of devilish laughter shook the Cave.Then joy suffused Mohareb’s cheek,And Thalaba beheldThe blue blade gleam, descending to destroy.The undefended youthSprung forward, and he seizedMohareb in his grasp,And grappled with him breast to breast.Sinewy and large of limb Mohareb was,Broad-shouldered, and his jointsKnit firm, and in the strifeOf danger practised well.Time had not thus matured young Thalaba:But now the enthusiast mind,The inspiration of his soulPoured vigour like the strengthOf madness thro’ his frame.Mohareb reels before him! he right onWith knee, with breast, with arm,Presses the staggering foe!And now upon the brinkOf that tremendous spring,There with fresh impulse and a rush of forceHe thrust him from his hold.The upwhirling flood receivedMohareb, then, absorbed,Engulphed him in the abyss.Thalaba’s breath came fast,And panting he breathed outA broken prayer of thankfulness.At length he spake and said,“Haruth and Maruth! are ye here?“Or has that evil guide misled my search?“I, Thalaba, the Servant of the Lord,“Invoke you. Hear me Angels! so may Heaven“Accept and mitigate your penitence.“I go to root from earth the Sorcerer brood,“Tell me the needful Talisman!”Thus as he spake, recumbent on the rockBeyond the black abyss,Their forms grew visible.A settled sorrow sate upon their brows,Sorrow alone, for trace of guilt and shameNo more remained; and gradual as by prayerThe sin was purged away,Their robe[107]of glory, purified of stainResumed the lustre of its native light.In awe the youth received the answering voice,“Son of Hodeirah! thou hast proved it here;“The Talisman is Faith.”
When Thalaba from adoration rose,The air was cool, the skyWith welcome clouds o’ercast,That soon came down in rain.He lifted up his fevered face to heaven,And bared his head and stretched his handsTo that delightful shower,And felt the coolness flow thro’ every limbFreshening his powers of life.
A loud quick panting! Thalaba looks up,He starts, and his instinctive handGrasps the knife hilt: for close besideA Tyger passes him.An indolent and languid eyeThe passing Tyger turned;His head was hanging down,His dry tongue lolling low,And the short panting of his fevered breathCame thro’ his hot parched nostrils painfully.The young Arabian knewThe purport of his hurried pace,And following him in hopeSaw joyful from afarThe Tyger stoop and drink.
The desert Pelican had built her nestIn that deep solitude.And now returned from distant flightFraught with the river stream,Her load of water had disburthened there.Her young in the refreshing bathSported all wantonness;Dipt down their callow heads,Filled the swoln membrane from their plumeless throatPendant, and bills yet soft,And buoyant with arched breast,Plied in unpractised strokeThe oars of their broad feet.They, as the spotted prowler of the wildLaps the cool wave, around their mother croud,And nestle underneath her outspread wings.The spotted prowler of the wildLapt the cool wave,[86]and satiate from the nest,Guiltless of blood, withdrew.
The mother bird had moved notBut cowering o’er her nestlings,Sate confident and fearless,And watched the wonted guest.But when the human visitant approached,The alarmed PelicanRetiring from that hostile shape,Gathers her young, and menaces with wings,And forward thrusts her threatening neck,Its feathers ruffling in her wrath,Bold with maternal fear.Thalaba drank and in the water-skinHoarded the precious element.Not all he took, but in the large nest leftStore that sufficed for life.And journeying onward blest the Carrier Bird,And blest in thankfulness,Their common Father, provident for all.
With strength renewed and confident in faithThe son of Hodeirah proceeds;Till after the long toil of many a day,At length Bagdad appeared,The City of his search.He hastening to the gateRoams o’er the city with insatiate eyes,Its thousand dwellings o’er whose level roofsFair cupolas appeared, and high-domed mosquesAnd pointed minarets, and cypress grovesEvery where scattered[87]in unwithering green.
Thou too art fallen, Bagdad! City of[88]Peace,Thou too hast had thy day!And loathsome Ignorance and brute ServitudePollute thy dwellings now,Erst for the Mighty and the Wise renowned.O yet illustrious for remembered fame,Thy founder the[89]Victorious, and the pompOf Haroun, for whose name by blood defiled,Jahia’s, and the blameless Barmecides’,Genius hath wrought salvation; and the yearsWhen Science with the good Al-Maimon dwelt;So one day may the Crescent from thy MosquesBe plucked by Wisdom, when the enlightened armOf Europe conquers to redeem the East.
Then Pomp and Pleasure dwelt within her wallsThe Merchants of the East and of the WestMet in her arched[90]Bazars;All day the active poorShowered a cool comfort o’er her thronging streets;Labour was busy in her looms;Thro’ all her open gatesLong troops of laden Camels lined her roads,And Tigris on his tameless[91]current boreArmenian harvests to her multitudes.
But not in sumptuous CaravansaryThe adventurer idles there,Nor satiates wonder with her pomp and wealth;A long day’s distance from the wallsStands ruined Babylon!The time of action is at hand,The hope that for so many a yearHath been his daily thought, his nightly dream,Stings to more restlessness.He loathes all lingering that delays the hourWhen, full of glory, from his quest returned,He on the pillar of the Tent belovedShall hang Hodeirah’s sword.
The many-coloured[92]domesYet wore one dusky hue,The Cranes upon the MosqueKept their night-clatter[93]still,When thro’ the gate the early Traveller past.And when at evening o’er the swampy plainThe Bittern’s[94]Boom came far,Distinct in darkness seenAbove the low horizon’s lingering lightRose the near ruins of old Babylon.
Once from her lofty walls[95]the CharioteerLooked down on swarming myriads; once she flungHer arches o’er Euphrates conquered tide,And thro’ her brazen portals when she pouredHer armies forth, the distant nations lookedAs men who watched the thunder-cloud in fearLest it should burst above them. She was fallen,The Queen of Cities, Babylon was fallen!Low lay her bulwarks; the black scorpion baskedIn the palace courts, within her sanctuaryThe She Wolf hid her whelps.Is yonder huge and shapeless heap, what onceHad been the aerial[96]Gardens, height on heightRising like Medias mountains crowned with wood,Work of imperial dotage? where the fameOf[97]Belus? where the Golden Image now,Which at the sound of dulcimer and lute,Cornet and sackbut, harp and psaltery,The Assyrian slaves adored?A labyrinth of ruins, BabylonSpreads o’er the blasted plain:The wandering Arab never sets his tentWithin her walls; the Shepherd[98]eyes afarHer evil Towers, and devious drives his flock.Alone unchanged, a free and bridgeless tideEuphrates rolls along,Eternal Nature’s work.
Thro’ the broken portal,Over weedy fragments,Thalaba went his way.Cautious he trod, and feltThe dangerous ground before him with his bow.The Chacal started at his steps,The Stork, alarmed at sound of man,From her broad nest upon the old pillar top,Affrighted fled on flapping wings.The Adder in her haunts disturbedLanced at the intruding staff her arrowy tongue.
Twilight and moonshine dimly mingling gaveAn aweful light obscure,Evening not wholly closed,The Moon still pale and faint.An aweful light obscure,Broken by many a mass of blackest shade;Long column stretching dark thro’ weeds and moss,Broad length of lofty wallWhose windows lay in light,And of their former shape, low-arched or square,Rude outline on the earthFigured, with long grass fringed.
Reclined against a column’s broken shaft,Unknowing whitherward to bend his wayHe stood and gazed around.The Ruins closed him in,It seemed as if no foot of manFor ages had intruded there.Soon at approaching stepStarting, he turned and sawA warrior in the moon beam drawing near.Forward the Stranger cameAnd with a curious eyePerused the Arab youth.“And who art thou,” he cried,“That at an hour like this“Wanderest in Babylon?“A way-bewildered traveller, seekest thou“The ruinous shelter here?“Or comest thou to hide“The plunder of the night?“Or hast thou spells to make“These ruins, yawning from their rooted base“Disclose their secret[99]wealth?”
The youth replied, “nor wandering traveller“Nor robber of the night“Nor skilled in spells am I.“I seek the Angels here,“Haruth and Maruth. Stranger in thy turn,“Why wanderest thou in Babylon,“And who art thou, the Questioner?”
The man was fearless, and the tempered prideThat toned the voice of ThalabaDispleased not him, himself of haughty heart.Heedless he answered, “knowest thou“Their cave of punishment?”
THALABA.
Vainly I seek it.
STRANGER.
Art thou firm of footTo tread the ways of danger?
THALABA.
Point the path!
STRANGER.
Young Arab! if thou hast a heart can beatEvenly in danger, if thy bowels yearn notWith human fears, at scenes where undisgracedThe soldier tried in battle might look backAnd tremble, follow me!... for I am boundInto that cave of horrors.ThalabaGazed on his comrade, he was young, of portStately and strong; belike his face had pleasedA woman’s eye, yet the youth read in itUnrestrained passions, the obdurate soulBold in all evil daring; and it taught,By Nature’s irresistible instinct, doubtWell timed and wary. Of himself assured,Fearless of man, and confident in faith,“Lead on!” cried Thalaba.Mohareb led the way;And thro’ the ruined streets,And thro’ the farther gateThey past in silence on.
What sound is borne on the wind?Is it the storm that shakesThe thousand oaks of the forest?But Thalaba’s long locksFlow down his shoulders moveless, and the windIn his loose mantle raises not one fold.Is it the river’s roarDashed down some rocky descent?Along the level plainEuphrates glides unheard.What sound disturbs the night,Loud as the summer forest in the storm,As the river that roars among rocks?
And what the heavy cloudThat hangs upon the vale,Thick as the mist o’er a well-watered plainSettling at evening, when the cooler airLets its day-vapours fall;Black as the sulphur-cloudThat thro’ Vesuvius, or from Hecla’s mouthRolls up, ascending from the infernal fires.
From Ait’s bitumen[100]lakeThat heavy cloud ascends;That everlasting roarFrom where its gushing springsBoil their black billows up.Silent the Arab youth,Along the verge of that wide lake,Followed Mohareb’s wayTowards a ridge of rocks that banked its side.There from a cave with torrent force,And everlasting roar,The black bitumen rolled.The moonlight lay upon the rocks.Their crags were visible,The shade of jutting cliffs,And where broad lichens whitened some smooth spot,And where the ivy hungIts flowing tresses down.A little way within the caveThe moonlight fell, glossing the sable tideThat gushed tumultuous out.A little way it entered, then the rockArching its entrance, and the winding way,Darkened the unseen depths.No eye of mortal manIf unenabled by enchanted spell,Had pierced those fearful depths.For mingling with the roarOf the portentous torrent, oft were heardShrieks, and wild yells that scaredThe brooding Eagle from her midnight nest.The affrighted countrymenCall it the Mouth of Hell;And ever when their way leads nearThey hurry with averted eyes,And dropping their beads[101]fastPronounce the holy name.
There pausing at the cavern mouthMohareb turned to Thalaba,“Now darest thou enter in?”“Behold!” the youth replied,And leading in his turn the dangerous waySet foot within the cave.
“Stay Madman!” cried his comrade. “Wouldst thou rush“Headlong to certain death?“Where are thine arms to meet“The Guardian of the Passage?” a loud shriekThat shook along the windings of the caveScattered the youth’s reply.
Mohareb when the long reechoing ceasedExclaimed, “Fate favoured thee,“Young Arab! when she wrote[102]upon thy brow“The meeting of to-night;“Else surely had thy name“This hour been blotted from the Book of Life!”
So saying from beneathHis cloak a bag he drew;“Young Arab! thou art brave,” he cried,“But thus to rush on danger unprepared,“As lions spring upon the hunter’s spear,“Is blind, brute courage. Zohak[103]keeps the cave,“Giantly tyrant of primeval days.“Force cannot win the passage.” Thus he saidAnd from his wallet drew a human handShrivelled, and dry, and black,And fitting as he spakeA taper in its hold,Pursued: “a murderer on the stake had died,“I drove the Vulture from his limbs, and lopt“The hand that did the murder, and drew up“The tendon-strings to close its grasp,“And in the sun and wind“Parched it, nine weeks exposed.“The Taper,... but not here the place to impart,“Nor hast thou done the rites,“That fit thee to partake the mystery.“Look! it burns clear, but with the air around“Its dead ingredients mingle deathiness.“This when the Keeper of the Cave shall feel,“Maugre the doom of Heaven,“The salutary[104]spell“Shall lull his penal agony to sleep“And leave the passage free.”
Thalaba answered not.Nor was there time for answer now,For lo! Mohareb leads,And o’er the vaulted caveTrembles the accursed taper’s feeble light.There where the narrowing chasmRose loftier in the hill,Stood Zohak, wretched man, condemned to keepHis Cave of punishment.His was the frequent screamWhich far away the prowling Chacal heardAnd howled in terror back:For from his shoulders grewTwo snakes of monster size,That ever at his headAimed eager their keen teethTo satiate raving hunger with his brain.He in the eternal conflict oft would seizeTheir swelling necks, and in his giant graspBruise them, and rend their flesh with bloody nails,And howl for agony,Feeling the pangs he gave, for of himselfInseparable parts, his torturers grew.
To him approaching nowMohareb held the withered armThe Taper of enchanted power.The unhallowed spell in hand unholy heldNow ministered to mercy, heavilyThe wretche’s eyelids closed,And welcome and unfeltLike the release of deathA sudden sleep fell on his vital powers.
Yet tho’ along the caveLay Zohak’s giant limbs,The twin-born serpents kept the narrow pass,Kindled their fiery eyes,Darted their tongues of terror, and rolled outTheir undulating length,Like the long streamers of some gallant shipBuoyed on the wavy air,Still struggling to flow on and still withheld.The scent of living fleshInflamed their appetite.
Prepared for all the perils of the caveMohareb came. He from his wallet drewTwo human heads yet warm.O hard of heart! whom not the visible powerOf retributive Justice, and the doomOf Zohak in his sight,Deterred from equal crime!Two human heads, yet warm, he laidBefore the scaly guardians of the pass.They to their wonted banquet of old yearsTurned eager, and the narrow pass was free.
And now before their pathThe opening cave dilates;They reach a spacious vaultWhere the black river fountains burst their way.Now as a whirlwind’s forceHad centered on the spring,The gushing flood rolled up;And now the deadened roarEchoed beneath them, as its sudden pauseLeft wide a dark abyss,Adown whose fathomless gulphs the eye was lost.Blue flames that hovered o’er the springsFlung thro’ the Cavern their uncertain lightNow waving on the waves they lay,And now their fiery curlsFlowed in long tresses up,And now contracting glowed with whiter heat.Then up they poured againDarting pale flashes thro’ the tremulous air;The flames, the red and yellow sulphur-smoke,And the black darkness of the vaultCommingling indivisibly.
“Here,” quoth Mohareb, “do the Angels dwell,“The Teachers of Enchantment.” ThalabaThen raised his voice and cried,“Haruth and Maruth, hear me! not with rites“Accursed, to disturb your penitence“And learn forbidden lore,“Repentant Angels, seek I your abode.“Me Allah and the Prophet mission here,“Their chosen servant I.“Tell me the Talisman.”...“And dost thou think”“Mohareb cried, as with a scornful smileHe glanced upon his comrade, “dost thou think“To trick them of their secret? for the dupes“Of human-kind keep this lip-righteousness!“’Twill serve thee in the Mosque“And in the Market-place,“But Spirits view the heart.“Only by strong and torturing spells enforced,“Those stubborn Angels teach the charm“By which we must descend.”
“Descend!” said Thalaba.But then the wrinkling smileForsook Mohareb’s cheek,And darker feelings settled on his brow.“Now by my soul,” quoth he, “and I believe“Idiot! that I have led“Some camel-kneed prayer-monger thro’ the cave!“What brings thee hither? thou shouldest have a hut“By some Saint’s[105]grave beside the public way,“There to less-knowing fools“Retail thy Koran[106]scraps,“And in thy turn, die civet-like at last“In the dung-perfume of thy sanctity!...“Ye whom I seek! that, led by me,“Feet uninitiate tread“Your threshold, this atones!“Fit sacrifice he falls!”And forth he flashed his scymetar,And raised the murderous blow.
Then ceased his power; his lifted arm,Suspended by the spell,Hung impotent to strike.“Poor Hypocrite!” cried he,“And this then is thy faith“In Allah and the Prophet! they had failed“To save thee, but for Magic’s stolen aid;“Yea, they had left thee yonder Serpent’s meal,“But that, in prudent cowardice,“The chosen Servant of the Lord came in,“Safe follower of my path!”
“Blasphemer! dost thou boast of guiding me?”Kindling with pride quoth Thalaba,“Blindly the wicked work“The righteous will of Heaven.“Sayest thou that diffident of God,“In magic spell I trust?“Liar! let witness this!”And he drew off Abdaldar’s RingAnd cast it in the gulph.A skinny hand came upAnd caught it as it fell,And peals of devilish laughter shook the Cave.
Then joy suffused Mohareb’s cheek,And Thalaba beheldThe blue blade gleam, descending to destroy.
The undefended youthSprung forward, and he seizedMohareb in his grasp,And grappled with him breast to breast.Sinewy and large of limb Mohareb was,Broad-shouldered, and his jointsKnit firm, and in the strifeOf danger practised well.Time had not thus matured young Thalaba:But now the enthusiast mind,The inspiration of his soulPoured vigour like the strengthOf madness thro’ his frame.Mohareb reels before him! he right onWith knee, with breast, with arm,Presses the staggering foe!And now upon the brinkOf that tremendous spring,There with fresh impulse and a rush of forceHe thrust him from his hold.The upwhirling flood receivedMohareb, then, absorbed,Engulphed him in the abyss.
Thalaba’s breath came fast,And panting he breathed outA broken prayer of thankfulness.At length he spake and said,“Haruth and Maruth! are ye here?“Or has that evil guide misled my search?“I, Thalaba, the Servant of the Lord,“Invoke you. Hear me Angels! so may Heaven“Accept and mitigate your penitence.“I go to root from earth the Sorcerer brood,“Tell me the needful Talisman!”
Thus as he spake, recumbent on the rockBeyond the black abyss,Their forms grew visible.A settled sorrow sate upon their brows,Sorrow alone, for trace of guilt and shameNo more remained; and gradual as by prayerThe sin was purged away,Their robe[107]of glory, purified of stainResumed the lustre of its native light.
In awe the youth received the answering voice,“Son of Hodeirah! thou hast proved it here;“The Talisman is Faith.”