Alone, beside a rivulet it standsThe Upas[161]Tree of Death.Thro’ barren banks the barren waters flow,The fish that meets them in the unmingling seaFloats poisoned on the waves.Tree grows not near, nor bush, nor flower, nor herb,The Earth has lost its parent powers of lifeAnd the fresh dew of Heaven that there descends,Steams in rank poison up.Before the appointed Youth and MaimunaSaw the first struggle of the dying throng,Crash sunk their prison wall!The whirlwind wrapt them round;Borne in the Chariot of the WindsEre there was time to fear, their way was past,And lo! again they standIn the cave-dwelling of the blue-eyed Witch.Then came the weakness of her natural ageAt once on Maimuna;The burthen of her yearsFell on her, and she knewThat her repentance in the sight of GodHad now found favour, and her hour was come.Her death was like the righteous; “Turn my face“To Mecca!” in her languid eyes.The joy of certain hopeLit a last lustre, and in deathThe smile was on her cheek.No faithful[162]crowded round her bier,No tongue reported her good deeds,For her no mourners wailed and wept,No Iman o’er her perfumed corpse,For her soul’s health intoned the prayer;No column[163]raised by the way sideImplored the passing travellerTo say a requiem for the dead.Thalaba laid her in the snow,And took his weapons from the hearth,And then once more the youth beganHis weary way of solitude.The breath of the East is in his faceAnd it drives the sleet and the snow.The air is keen, the wind is keen,His limbs are aching with the cold,His eyes are aching[164]with the snow,His very heart is cold,His spirit chilled within him. He looks onIf ought of life be near,But all is sky and the white wilderness,And here and there a solitary pine,Its branches broken by the weight of snow.His pains abate, his senses dullWith suffering, cease to suffer.Languidly, languidly,Thalaba drags along,A heavy weight is on his lids,His limbs move slow with heaviness,And he full fain would sleep.Not yet, not yet, O Thalaba!Thy hour of rest is come;Not yet may the Destroyer sleepThe comfortable sleep,His journey is not over yet,His course not yet fulfilled;...Run thou thy race, O Thalaba!The prize is at the goal.It was a Cedar-treeThat woke him from the deadly drowsiness;Its broad, round-spreading[165]branches when they feltThe snow, rose upward in a point to heaven,And standing in their strength erect,Defied the baffled storm.He knew the lesson Nature gave,And he shook off his heaviness,And hope revived within him.Now sunk the evening sun,A broad, red, beamless orb,Adown the glowing sky;Thro’ the red light the snow-flakes fell, like fire.Louder grows the biting wind,And it drifts the dust of the snow.The snow is clotted in his hair,The breath of ThalabaIs iced upon his lips.He looks around, the darkness,The dizzy floating of the snow,Close in his narrow view.At length thro’ the thick atmosphere a lightNot distant far appears.He doubting other wiles of enmity,With mingled joy and quicker step,Bends his way thitherward.It was a little, lowly dwelling place,Amid a garden, whose delightful airFelt mild and fragrant, as the evening windPassing in summer o’er the coffee-groves[166]Of Yemen and its blessed bowers of balm.A Fount of Fire that in the centre played,Rolled all around its wonderous rivuletsAnd fed the garden with the heat of life.Every where magic! the Arabian’s heartYearned after human intercourse.A light!... the door unclosed!...All silent ... he goes in.There lay a Damsel sleeping on a couch,His step awoke her, and she gazed at himWith pleased and wondering look,Fearlessly, like a yearling childToo ignorant to fear.With words of courtesyThe young intruder spake.At the sound of his voice a joyKindled her bright black eyes;She rose and took his hand,But at the touch the smile forsook her cheek,“Oh! it is cold!” she cried,“I thought I should have felt it warm like mine,“But thou art like the rest!”Thalaba stood mute awhileAnd wondering at her words:“Cold? Lady!” then he said; “I have travelled long“In this cold wilderness,“Till life is almost spent!”LAILA.Art thou a Man then?THALABA.I did not thinkSorrow and toil could so have altered me,That I seem otherwise.LAILA.And thou canst be warmSometimes? life-warm as I am?THALABA.Surely LadyAs others are, I am, to heat and coldSubject like all, you see a Traveller,Bound upon hard adventure, who requestsOnly to rest him here to-night, to-morrowHe will pursue his way.LAILA.Oh ... not to-morrow!Not like a dream of joy, depart so soon!And whither wouldst thou go? for all aroundIs everlasting winter, ice and snow,Deserts unpassable of endless frost.THALABA.He who has led me here will still sustain meThro’ cold and hunger.“Hunger?” Laila cried;She clapt her lilly hands,And whether from above or from belowIt came, sight could not see,So suddenly the floor was spread with food.LAILA.Why dost thou watch with hesitating eyesThe banquet? ’tis for thee! I bade it come.THALABA.Whence came it?LAILA.Matters it from whence it cameMy father sent it: when I call, he hears.Nay ... thou hast fabled with me! and art likeThe forms that wait upon my solitude,Human to eye alone;... thy hunger would notQuestion so idly else.THALABA.I will not eat!It came by magic! fool to think that aughtBut fraud and danger could await me here!Let loose my cloak!...LAILA.Begone then, insolent!Why dost thou stand and gaze upon my face?Aye! watch the features well that threaten theeWith fraud and danger! in the wildernessThey shall avenge me,... in the hour of wantRise on thy view, and make thee feelHow innocent I am:And this remembered cowardice and insultWith a more painful shame will burn thy cheekThan now beats mine in anger!THALABA.Mark me Lady!Many and restless are my enemies;My daily paths have been beset with snaresTill I have learnt suspicion, bitter sufferingsTeaching the needful vice, if I have wronged you,And yours should be the face of innocence,I pray you pardon me! in the name of God,And of his Prophet, I partake your food.LAILA.Lo now! thou wert afraid of sorcery,And yet hast said a charm!THALABA.A charm?LAILA.And wherefore?Is it not not delicate food? what mean thy words?I have heard many spells and many namesThat rule the Genii and the Elements,But never these.THALABA.How! never heard the namesOf God and of the Prophet?LAILA.Never ... nay nowAgain that troubled eye? thou art a strange manAnd wonderous fearful ... but I must not twiceBe charged with fraud! if thou suspectest still,Depart and leave me!THALABA.And you do not knowThe God that made you?LAILA.Made me, man! my FatherMade me. He made this dwelling, and the grove,And yonder fountain-fire, and every mornHe visits me, and takes the snow, and mouldsWomen and men, like thee; and breathes into themMotion, and life, and sense,... but to the touchThey are chilling cold, and ever when night closesThey melt away again, and leave me hereAlone and sad. Oh then how I rejoiceWhen it is day and my dear Father comes,And chears me with kind words and kinder looks!My dear, dear, Father! were it not for him,I am so weary of this loneliness,That I should wish I also were of snowThat I might melt away, and cease to be.THALABA.And have you always had your dwelling hereAmid this solitude of snow?LAILA.I think so.I can remember with unsteady feetTottering from room to room, and finding pleasureIn flowers and toys and sweetmeats, things that longHave lost their power to please; that when I see themRaise only now a melancholy wishI were the little trifler once againThat could be pleased so lightly!THALABA.Then you know notYour Father’s art?LAILA.No. I besought him onceTo give me power like his, that where he wentI might go with him: but he shook his head,And said it was a power too dearly bought,And kist me with the tenderness of tears.THALABA.And wherefore has he hidden you thus farFrom all the ways of humankind?LAILA.’Twas fear,Fatherly fear and love. He read[167]the starsAnd saw a danger in my destiny,And therefore placed me here amid the snows,And laid a spell that never human eye,If foot of man by chance should reach the depthOf this wide waste, shall see one trace of grove,Garden, or dwelling-place, or yonder fire,That thaws and mitigates the frozen sky.And more than this, even if the enemyShould come, I have a guardian here.THALABA.A guardian?LAILA.’Twas well that when my sight unclosed upon theeThere was no dark suspicion in thy face.Else I had called his succour! wilt thou see him?But if a Woman can have terrified thee,How wilt thou bare his unrelaxing browAnd lifted lightnings?THALABA.Lead me to him, Lady!She took him by the handAnd thro’ the porch they past.Over the garden and the groveThe fountain streams of firePoured a broad light like noon.A broad unnatural lightThat made the Rose’s blush of beauty pale,And dimmed the rich Geranium’s scarlet blaze.The various verdure of the groveNow wore one undistinguishable grey,Checqured with blacker shade.Suddenly Laila stopt,“I do not think thou art the enemy,”She said, “but He will know!“If thou hast meditated wrong“Stranger, depart in time....“I would not lead thee to thy death!”The glance of Laila’s eyeTurned anxiously toward the Arabian youth.“So let him pierce my heart,” cried Thalaba,“If it hide thought to harm you!”LAILA.’Tis a figure,Almost I fear to look at!... yet come on.’Twill ease me of a heaviness that seemsTo sink my heart; and thou mayest dwell here then.In safety;... for thou shalt not go to-morrow,Nor on the after, nor the after day,Nor ever! it was only solitudeThat made my misery here,...And now that I can see a human face,And hear a human voice....Oh no! thou wilt not leave me!THALABA.Alas I must not rest!The star that ruled at my nativityShone with a strange and blasting influence.O gentle Lady! I should draw upon youA killing curse.LAILA.But I will ask my FatherTo save you from all danger, and you know notThe wonders he can work, and when I askIt is not in his power to say me nay.Perhaps thou knowest the happiness it isTo have a tender father?THALABA.He was oneWhom like a loathsome leper I have taintedWith my contagious destiny. At eveningHe kist me as he wont, and laid his handsUpon my head, and blest me ere I slept.His dying groan awoke me, for the MurdererHad stolen upon our sleep! for me was meantThe midnight blow of death; my father died,The brother play-mates of my infancy,The baby at the breast, they perished all,All in that dreadful hour: but I was savedTo remember and revenge.She answered not, for nowEmerging from the o’er-arched avenueThe finger of her upraised handMarked where the Guardian of the garden stood.It was a brazen[168]Image, every limbAnd swelling vein and muscle, true to life:The left knee bending on,The other straight, firm planted, and his handLifted on high to hurlThe Lightning that it grasped.When Thalaba approached,The charmed Image knew Hodeirah’s son,And hurled the lightning at the dreaded foe.The Ring! the saviour Ring!Full in his face the lightning-bolt was driven,The scattered fire recoiled.Like the flowing of a summer gale he feltIts ineffectual force,His countenance was not changed,Nor a hair of his head was singed.He started and his glanceTurned angrily upon the Maid,The sight disarmed suspicion ... breathless, pale,Against a tree she stood.Her wan lips quivering, and her eyeUpraised, in silent supplicating fear.She started with a scream of joySeeing her Father there,And ran and threw her arms around his neck,“Save me!” she cried, “the Enemy is come!“Save me! save me! Okba!”“Okba!” repeats the youth,For never since that hourWhen in the Tent the Spirit told his name,Had Thalaba let slipThe memory of his Father’s murderer;“Okba!”... and in his handHe graspt an arrow-shaft.And he rushed on to strike him.“Son of Hodeirah!” the Old Man replied,“My hour is not yet come.”And putting forth his handGently he repelled the Youth.“My hour is not yet come!“But thou mayest shed this innocent Maiden’s blood,“That vengeance God allows thee.”Around her Father’s neckStill Laila’s hands were clasped.Her face was turned to Thalaba,A broad light floated o’er its marble paleness,As the wind waved the fountain fire.Her large, dilated eye in horror raisedWatched his every movement.“Not upon her,” said he,“Not upon her Hodeirah’s blood cries out“For vengeance!” and again his lifted armThreatened the Sorcerer,Again withheld it feltThe barrier that no human strength could burst.“Thou dost not aim the blow more eagerly,”Okba replied, “than I would rush to meet it!“But that were poor revenge.“O Thalaba, thy God“Wreaks on the innocent head“His vengeance;... I must suffer in my child!“Why dost thou pause to strike thy victim? Allah“Permits, commands the deed.”“Liar!” quoth Thalaba.And Laila’s wondering eyeLooked up, all anguish to her Father’s face,“By Allah and the Prophet,” he replied,“I speak the words of truth.“Misery, misery,“That I must beg mine enemy to speed“The inevitable vengeance now so near!“I read it in her horoscope,“Her birth-star warned me of Hodeirah’s race.“I laid a spell, and called a Spirit up.“He answered one must die“Laila or Thalaba....“Accursed Spirit! even in truth“Giving a lying hope!“Last, I ascended the seventh Heaven“And on the everlasting[169]Table there“In characters of light,“I read her written doom.“The years that it has gnawn me! and the load“Of sin that it has laid upon my soul!“Curse on this hand that in the only hour“The favouring stars allowed“Reeked with other blood than thine.“Still dost thou stand and gaze incredulous?“Young man, be merciful, and keep her not“Longer in agony!”Thalaba’s unbelieving frownScowled on the Sorcerer,When in the air the rush of wings was heardAnd Azrael stood among them.In equal terror at the sightThe Enchanter, the Destroyer stood,And Laila, the victim maid.“Son of Hodeirah!” said the Angel of Death,“The accursed fables not.“When from the Eternal Hand I took“The yearly[170]scroll of fate,“Her name was written there.“This is the hour, and from thy hands“Commissioned to receive the Maid I come.”“Hear me O Angel!” Thalaba replied,“To avenge my Father’s death,“To work the will of Heaven,“To root from earth the accursed sorcerer race,“I have dared danger undismayed,“I have lost all my soul held dear,“I am cut off from all the ties of life,“Unmurmuring; for whate’er awaits me still,“Pursuing to the end the enterprize,“Peril or pain, I bear a ready heart.“But strike this Maid! this innocent!“Angel, I dare not do it.”“Remember,” answered Azrael, “all thou sayest“Is written down for judgement! every word“In the balance of[171]thy trial must be weighed!”“So be it!” said the Youth.“He who can read the secrets of the heart“Will judge with righteousness!“This is no doubtful path,“The voice of God within me cannot lie....“I will not harm the innocent.”He said, and from above,As tho’ it were the Voice of Night,The startling answer came.“Son of Hodeirah, think again!“One must depart from hence,“Laila, or Thalaba;“She dies for thee, or thou for her,“It must be life for life!“Son of Hodeirah, weigh it well,“While yet the choice is thine!”He hesitated not,But looking upward spread his hands to Heaven,“Oneiza, in thy bower of Paradise“Receive me, still unstained!”“What!” exclaimed Okba, “darest thou disobey,“Abandoning all claim“To Allah’s longer aid?”The eager exultation of his speechEarthward recalled the thoughts of Thalaba.“And dost thou triumph, Murderer? dost thou deem“Because I perish, that the unsleeping lids“Of Justice shall be closed upon thy crime?“Poor, miserable man! that thou canst live“With such beast-blindness in the present joy“When o’er thy head the sword of God“Hangs for the certain stroke!”“Servant of Allah, thou hast disobeyed,“God hath abandoned thee,“This hour is mine!” cried Okba,And shook his Daughter off,And drew the dagger from his vest.And aimed the deadly blow.All was accomplished. Laila rushed betweenTo save the saviour Youth.She met the blow and sunk into his arms,And Azrael from the hands[172]of ThalabaReceived her parting soul.
Alone, beside a rivulet it standsThe Upas[161]Tree of Death.Thro’ barren banks the barren waters flow,The fish that meets them in the unmingling seaFloats poisoned on the waves.Tree grows not near, nor bush, nor flower, nor herb,The Earth has lost its parent powers of lifeAnd the fresh dew of Heaven that there descends,Steams in rank poison up.
Before the appointed Youth and MaimunaSaw the first struggle of the dying throng,Crash sunk their prison wall!The whirlwind wrapt them round;Borne in the Chariot of the WindsEre there was time to fear, their way was past,And lo! again they standIn the cave-dwelling of the blue-eyed Witch.
Then came the weakness of her natural ageAt once on Maimuna;The burthen of her yearsFell on her, and she knewThat her repentance in the sight of GodHad now found favour, and her hour was come.Her death was like the righteous; “Turn my face“To Mecca!” in her languid eyes.The joy of certain hopeLit a last lustre, and in deathThe smile was on her cheek.
No faithful[162]crowded round her bier,No tongue reported her good deeds,For her no mourners wailed and wept,No Iman o’er her perfumed corpse,For her soul’s health intoned the prayer;No column[163]raised by the way sideImplored the passing travellerTo say a requiem for the dead.Thalaba laid her in the snow,And took his weapons from the hearth,And then once more the youth beganHis weary way of solitude.
The breath of the East is in his faceAnd it drives the sleet and the snow.The air is keen, the wind is keen,His limbs are aching with the cold,His eyes are aching[164]with the snow,His very heart is cold,His spirit chilled within him. He looks onIf ought of life be near,But all is sky and the white wilderness,And here and there a solitary pine,Its branches broken by the weight of snow.His pains abate, his senses dullWith suffering, cease to suffer.Languidly, languidly,Thalaba drags along,A heavy weight is on his lids,His limbs move slow with heaviness,And he full fain would sleep.Not yet, not yet, O Thalaba!Thy hour of rest is come;Not yet may the Destroyer sleepThe comfortable sleep,His journey is not over yet,His course not yet fulfilled;...Run thou thy race, O Thalaba!The prize is at the goal.
It was a Cedar-treeThat woke him from the deadly drowsiness;Its broad, round-spreading[165]branches when they feltThe snow, rose upward in a point to heaven,And standing in their strength erect,Defied the baffled storm.He knew the lesson Nature gave,And he shook off his heaviness,And hope revived within him.
Now sunk the evening sun,A broad, red, beamless orb,Adown the glowing sky;Thro’ the red light the snow-flakes fell, like fire.Louder grows the biting wind,And it drifts the dust of the snow.The snow is clotted in his hair,The breath of ThalabaIs iced upon his lips.He looks around, the darkness,The dizzy floating of the snow,Close in his narrow view.
At length thro’ the thick atmosphere a lightNot distant far appears.He doubting other wiles of enmity,With mingled joy and quicker step,Bends his way thitherward.
It was a little, lowly dwelling place,Amid a garden, whose delightful airFelt mild and fragrant, as the evening windPassing in summer o’er the coffee-groves[166]Of Yemen and its blessed bowers of balm.A Fount of Fire that in the centre played,Rolled all around its wonderous rivuletsAnd fed the garden with the heat of life.Every where magic! the Arabian’s heartYearned after human intercourse.A light!... the door unclosed!...All silent ... he goes in.
There lay a Damsel sleeping on a couch,His step awoke her, and she gazed at himWith pleased and wondering look,Fearlessly, like a yearling childToo ignorant to fear.With words of courtesyThe young intruder spake.At the sound of his voice a joyKindled her bright black eyes;She rose and took his hand,But at the touch the smile forsook her cheek,“Oh! it is cold!” she cried,“I thought I should have felt it warm like mine,“But thou art like the rest!”
Thalaba stood mute awhileAnd wondering at her words:“Cold? Lady!” then he said; “I have travelled long“In this cold wilderness,“Till life is almost spent!”
LAILA.
Art thou a Man then?
THALABA.
I did not thinkSorrow and toil could so have altered me,That I seem otherwise.
LAILA.
And thou canst be warmSometimes? life-warm as I am?
THALABA.
Surely LadyAs others are, I am, to heat and coldSubject like all, you see a Traveller,Bound upon hard adventure, who requestsOnly to rest him here to-night, to-morrowHe will pursue his way.
LAILA.
Oh ... not to-morrow!Not like a dream of joy, depart so soon!And whither wouldst thou go? for all aroundIs everlasting winter, ice and snow,Deserts unpassable of endless frost.
THALABA.
He who has led me here will still sustain meThro’ cold and hunger.
“Hunger?” Laila cried;She clapt her lilly hands,And whether from above or from belowIt came, sight could not see,So suddenly the floor was spread with food.
LAILA.
Why dost thou watch with hesitating eyesThe banquet? ’tis for thee! I bade it come.
THALABA.
Whence came it?
LAILA.
Matters it from whence it cameMy father sent it: when I call, he hears.Nay ... thou hast fabled with me! and art likeThe forms that wait upon my solitude,Human to eye alone;... thy hunger would notQuestion so idly else.
THALABA.
I will not eat!It came by magic! fool to think that aughtBut fraud and danger could await me here!Let loose my cloak!...
LAILA.
Begone then, insolent!Why dost thou stand and gaze upon my face?Aye! watch the features well that threaten theeWith fraud and danger! in the wildernessThey shall avenge me,... in the hour of wantRise on thy view, and make thee feelHow innocent I am:And this remembered cowardice and insultWith a more painful shame will burn thy cheekThan now beats mine in anger!
THALABA.
Mark me Lady!Many and restless are my enemies;My daily paths have been beset with snaresTill I have learnt suspicion, bitter sufferingsTeaching the needful vice, if I have wronged you,And yours should be the face of innocence,I pray you pardon me! in the name of God,And of his Prophet, I partake your food.
LAILA.
Lo now! thou wert afraid of sorcery,And yet hast said a charm!
THALABA.
A charm?
LAILA.
And wherefore?Is it not not delicate food? what mean thy words?I have heard many spells and many namesThat rule the Genii and the Elements,But never these.
THALABA.
How! never heard the namesOf God and of the Prophet?
LAILA.
Never ... nay nowAgain that troubled eye? thou art a strange manAnd wonderous fearful ... but I must not twiceBe charged with fraud! if thou suspectest still,Depart and leave me!
THALABA.
And you do not knowThe God that made you?
LAILA.
Made me, man! my FatherMade me. He made this dwelling, and the grove,And yonder fountain-fire, and every mornHe visits me, and takes the snow, and mouldsWomen and men, like thee; and breathes into themMotion, and life, and sense,... but to the touchThey are chilling cold, and ever when night closesThey melt away again, and leave me hereAlone and sad. Oh then how I rejoiceWhen it is day and my dear Father comes,And chears me with kind words and kinder looks!My dear, dear, Father! were it not for him,I am so weary of this loneliness,That I should wish I also were of snowThat I might melt away, and cease to be.
THALABA.
And have you always had your dwelling hereAmid this solitude of snow?
LAILA.
I think so.I can remember with unsteady feetTottering from room to room, and finding pleasureIn flowers and toys and sweetmeats, things that longHave lost their power to please; that when I see themRaise only now a melancholy wishI were the little trifler once againThat could be pleased so lightly!
THALABA.
Then you know notYour Father’s art?
LAILA.
No. I besought him onceTo give me power like his, that where he wentI might go with him: but he shook his head,And said it was a power too dearly bought,And kist me with the tenderness of tears.
THALABA.
And wherefore has he hidden you thus farFrom all the ways of humankind?
LAILA.
’Twas fear,Fatherly fear and love. He read[167]the starsAnd saw a danger in my destiny,And therefore placed me here amid the snows,And laid a spell that never human eye,If foot of man by chance should reach the depthOf this wide waste, shall see one trace of grove,Garden, or dwelling-place, or yonder fire,That thaws and mitigates the frozen sky.And more than this, even if the enemyShould come, I have a guardian here.
THALABA.
A guardian?
LAILA.
’Twas well that when my sight unclosed upon theeThere was no dark suspicion in thy face.Else I had called his succour! wilt thou see him?But if a Woman can have terrified thee,How wilt thou bare his unrelaxing browAnd lifted lightnings?
THALABA.
Lead me to him, Lady!
She took him by the handAnd thro’ the porch they past.Over the garden and the groveThe fountain streams of firePoured a broad light like noon.A broad unnatural lightThat made the Rose’s blush of beauty pale,And dimmed the rich Geranium’s scarlet blaze.The various verdure of the groveNow wore one undistinguishable grey,Checqured with blacker shade.Suddenly Laila stopt,“I do not think thou art the enemy,”She said, “but He will know!“If thou hast meditated wrong“Stranger, depart in time....“I would not lead thee to thy death!”
The glance of Laila’s eyeTurned anxiously toward the Arabian youth.“So let him pierce my heart,” cried Thalaba,“If it hide thought to harm you!”
LAILA.
’Tis a figure,Almost I fear to look at!... yet come on.’Twill ease me of a heaviness that seemsTo sink my heart; and thou mayest dwell here then.In safety;... for thou shalt not go to-morrow,Nor on the after, nor the after day,Nor ever! it was only solitudeThat made my misery here,...And now that I can see a human face,And hear a human voice....Oh no! thou wilt not leave me!
THALABA.
Alas I must not rest!The star that ruled at my nativityShone with a strange and blasting influence.O gentle Lady! I should draw upon youA killing curse.
LAILA.
But I will ask my FatherTo save you from all danger, and you know notThe wonders he can work, and when I askIt is not in his power to say me nay.Perhaps thou knowest the happiness it isTo have a tender father?
THALABA.
He was oneWhom like a loathsome leper I have taintedWith my contagious destiny. At eveningHe kist me as he wont, and laid his handsUpon my head, and blest me ere I slept.His dying groan awoke me, for the MurdererHad stolen upon our sleep! for me was meantThe midnight blow of death; my father died,The brother play-mates of my infancy,The baby at the breast, they perished all,All in that dreadful hour: but I was savedTo remember and revenge.
She answered not, for nowEmerging from the o’er-arched avenueThe finger of her upraised handMarked where the Guardian of the garden stood.It was a brazen[168]Image, every limbAnd swelling vein and muscle, true to life:The left knee bending on,The other straight, firm planted, and his handLifted on high to hurlThe Lightning that it grasped.
When Thalaba approached,The charmed Image knew Hodeirah’s son,And hurled the lightning at the dreaded foe.The Ring! the saviour Ring!Full in his face the lightning-bolt was driven,The scattered fire recoiled.Like the flowing of a summer gale he feltIts ineffectual force,His countenance was not changed,Nor a hair of his head was singed.
He started and his glanceTurned angrily upon the Maid,The sight disarmed suspicion ... breathless, pale,Against a tree she stood.Her wan lips quivering, and her eyeUpraised, in silent supplicating fear.
She started with a scream of joySeeing her Father there,And ran and threw her arms around his neck,“Save me!” she cried, “the Enemy is come!“Save me! save me! Okba!”
“Okba!” repeats the youth,For never since that hourWhen in the Tent the Spirit told his name,Had Thalaba let slipThe memory of his Father’s murderer;“Okba!”... and in his handHe graspt an arrow-shaft.And he rushed on to strike him.
“Son of Hodeirah!” the Old Man replied,“My hour is not yet come.”And putting forth his handGently he repelled the Youth.“My hour is not yet come!“But thou mayest shed this innocent Maiden’s blood,“That vengeance God allows thee.”
Around her Father’s neckStill Laila’s hands were clasped.Her face was turned to Thalaba,A broad light floated o’er its marble paleness,As the wind waved the fountain fire.Her large, dilated eye in horror raisedWatched his every movement.“Not upon her,” said he,“Not upon her Hodeirah’s blood cries out“For vengeance!” and again his lifted armThreatened the Sorcerer,Again withheld it feltThe barrier that no human strength could burst.
“Thou dost not aim the blow more eagerly,”Okba replied, “than I would rush to meet it!“But that were poor revenge.“O Thalaba, thy God“Wreaks on the innocent head“His vengeance;... I must suffer in my child!“Why dost thou pause to strike thy victim? Allah“Permits, commands the deed.”
“Liar!” quoth Thalaba.And Laila’s wondering eyeLooked up, all anguish to her Father’s face,“By Allah and the Prophet,” he replied,“I speak the words of truth.“Misery, misery,“That I must beg mine enemy to speed“The inevitable vengeance now so near!“I read it in her horoscope,“Her birth-star warned me of Hodeirah’s race.“I laid a spell, and called a Spirit up.“He answered one must die“Laila or Thalaba....“Accursed Spirit! even in truth“Giving a lying hope!“Last, I ascended the seventh Heaven“And on the everlasting[169]Table there“In characters of light,“I read her written doom.“The years that it has gnawn me! and the load“Of sin that it has laid upon my soul!“Curse on this hand that in the only hour“The favouring stars allowed“Reeked with other blood than thine.“Still dost thou stand and gaze incredulous?“Young man, be merciful, and keep her not“Longer in agony!”
Thalaba’s unbelieving frownScowled on the Sorcerer,When in the air the rush of wings was heardAnd Azrael stood among them.In equal terror at the sightThe Enchanter, the Destroyer stood,And Laila, the victim maid.
“Son of Hodeirah!” said the Angel of Death,“The accursed fables not.“When from the Eternal Hand I took“The yearly[170]scroll of fate,“Her name was written there.“This is the hour, and from thy hands“Commissioned to receive the Maid I come.”
“Hear me O Angel!” Thalaba replied,“To avenge my Father’s death,“To work the will of Heaven,“To root from earth the accursed sorcerer race,“I have dared danger undismayed,“I have lost all my soul held dear,“I am cut off from all the ties of life,“Unmurmuring; for whate’er awaits me still,“Pursuing to the end the enterprize,“Peril or pain, I bear a ready heart.“But strike this Maid! this innocent!“Angel, I dare not do it.”
“Remember,” answered Azrael, “all thou sayest“Is written down for judgement! every word“In the balance of[171]thy trial must be weighed!”
“So be it!” said the Youth.“He who can read the secrets of the heart“Will judge with righteousness!“This is no doubtful path,“The voice of God within me cannot lie....“I will not harm the innocent.”
He said, and from above,As tho’ it were the Voice of Night,The startling answer came.“Son of Hodeirah, think again!“One must depart from hence,“Laila, or Thalaba;“She dies for thee, or thou for her,“It must be life for life!“Son of Hodeirah, weigh it well,“While yet the choice is thine!”
He hesitated not,But looking upward spread his hands to Heaven,“Oneiza, in thy bower of Paradise“Receive me, still unstained!”
“What!” exclaimed Okba, “darest thou disobey,“Abandoning all claim“To Allah’s longer aid?”
The eager exultation of his speechEarthward recalled the thoughts of Thalaba.“And dost thou triumph, Murderer? dost thou deem“Because I perish, that the unsleeping lids“Of Justice shall be closed upon thy crime?“Poor, miserable man! that thou canst live“With such beast-blindness in the present joy“When o’er thy head the sword of God“Hangs for the certain stroke!”
“Servant of Allah, thou hast disobeyed,“God hath abandoned thee,“This hour is mine!” cried Okba,And shook his Daughter off,And drew the dagger from his vest.And aimed the deadly blow.
All was accomplished. Laila rushed betweenTo save the saviour Youth.She met the blow and sunk into his arms,And Azrael from the hands[172]of ThalabaReceived her parting soul.
O fool to think thy human handCould check the chariot-wheels of DestinyTo dream of weakness in the all-knowing MindThat his decrees should change!To hope that the united PowersOf Earth, and Air, and Hell,Might blot one letter from the Book of Fate,Might break one link of the eternal chain!Thou miserable, wicked, poor old man,Fall now upon the body of thy child,Beat now thy breast, and pluck the bleeding hairsFrom thy grey beard, and layThine ineffectual hand to close her wound.And call on Hell to aid,And call on Heaven to sendIts merciful thunderbolt!The young Arabian silentlyBeheld his frantic grief.The presence of the hated youthTo raging anguish stungThe wretched Sorcerer.“Aye! look and triumph!” he exclaimed,“This is the justice of thy God!“A righteous God is he, to let“His vengeance fall upon the innocent head!“Curse thee, curse thee, Thalaba!”All feelings of revengeHad left Hodeirah’s son.Pitying and silently he heardThe victim of his own iniquities,Not with the busy handOf Consolation, fretting the sore woundHe could not hope to heal.So as the Servant of the Prophet stood,With sudden motion the night airGently fanned his cheek.’Twas a Green Bird whose wingsHad waved the quiet air.On the hand of ThalabaThe Green Bird perched, and turnedA mild eye up, as if to winThe Adventurer’s confidence.Then springing on flew forward,And now again returnsTo court him to the way;And now his hand perceivesHer rosy feet press firmer, as she leapsUpon the wing again.Obedient to the call,By the pale moonlight Thalaba pursuedO’er trackless snows his way;Unknowing he what blessed messengerHad come to guide his steps,That Laila’s Spirit went before his path.Brought up in darkness and the child of sin,Yet as the meed of spotless innocence,Just Heaven permitted her by one good deedTo work her own redemption, after death;So till the judgement dayShe might abide in bliss,Green[173]warbler of the Bowers of Paradise.The morning sun came forth,Wakening no eye to lifeIn this wide solitude;His radiance with a saffron hue, like heat,Suffused the desert snow.The Green Bird guided Thalaba,Now oaring with slow wing her upward way,Descending now in slant descentOn out-spread pinions motionless,Floating now with rise and fall alternate,As if the billows of the airHeaved her with their sink and swell.And when, beneath the noon,The icey glitter of the snowDazzled his aching sight,Then on his arm alighted the Green BirdAnd spread before his eyesHer plumage of refreshing hue.Evening came on; the glowing cloudsTinged with a purple ray the mountain ridgeThat lay before the Traveller.Ah! whither art thou gone,Guide and companion of the youth, whose eyeHas lost thee in the depth of Heaven?Why hast thou left aloneThe weary wanderer in the wilderness?And now the western clouds grow paleAnd Night descends upon his solitude.The Arabian youth knelt down,And bowed his forehead to the groundAnd made his evening prayer.When he arose the stars were bright in heaven,The sky was blue, and the cold MoonShone over the cold snow.A speck in the air!Is it his guide that approaches?For it moves with the motion of life!Lo! she returns and scatters from her pinionsOdours diviner than the gales of morningWaft from Sabea.Hovering before the youth she hung,Till from her rosy feet that at his touchUncurled their grasp, he tookThe fruitful bough they bore.He took and tasted, a new lifeFlowed thro’ his renovated frame;His limbs that late were sore and stiffFelt all the freshness of repose,His dizzy brain was calmed.The heavy aching of his lidsAt once was taken off,For Laila from the Bowers of ParadiseHad borne the healing[174]fruit.So up the mountain steepWith untired foot he past,The Green Bird guiding himMid crags, and ice, and rocks,A difficult way, winding the long ascent.How then the heart of Thalaba rejoicedWhen bosomed in the mountain depths,A sheltered Valley opened on his view!It was the Simorg’s vale,The dwelling of the ancient Bird.On a green and mossy bank.Beside a rivuletThe Bird of Ages stood.No sound intruded on his solitude,Only the rivulet was heardWhose everlasting flowFrom the birth-day of the world had madeThe same unvaried murmuring.Here dwelt the all-knowing BirdIn deep tranquillity,His eyelids ever closedIn full enjoyment of profound repose.Reverently the youth approachedThat old and only[175]Bird,And crossed his arms upon his breast,And bowed his head and spake.“Earliest of existing things,“Earliest thou, and wisest thou,“Guide me, guide me, on my way!“I am bound to seek the caverns“Underneath the roots of Ocean“Where the Sorcerer brood are nurst.“Thou the eldest, thou the wisest,“Guide me, guide me, on my way!”The ancient Simorg on the youthUnclosed his thoughtful eyes,And answered to his prayer.“Northward by the stream proceed,“In the fountain of the rock“Wash away thy worldly stains,“Kneel thou there, and seek the Lord“And fortify thy soul with prayer.“Thus prepared ascend the Sledge,“Be bold, be wary, seek and find!“God hath appointed all.”The ancient Simorg then let fall his lidsReturning to repose.Northward along the rivuletThe adventurer went his way,Tracing its waters upward to their source.Green Bird of ParadiseThou hast not left the youth;...With slow associate flightShe companies his way,And now they reach the fountain of the rock.There in the cold clear wellThalaba washed away his earthly stains,And bowed his face before the Lord,And fortified his soul with prayer.The while upon the rockStood the celestial Bird,And pondering all the perils he must pass,With a mild melancholy eyeBeheld the youth beloved.And lo! beneath yon lonely pine, the sledge....And there they stand the harnessed Dogs,Their wide eyes watching for the youth,Their ears erected turned towards his way.They were lean as lean might be,Their furrowed ribs rose prominent,And they were black from head to foot,Save a white line on every breastCurved like the crescent moon.And he is seated in the sledge,His arms are folded on his breast,The bird is on his knees;There is fear in the eyes of the Dogs,There is fear in their pitiful moan,And now they turn their heads,And seeing him there, Away!The Youth with the start of their speedFalls back to the bar of the sledge,His hair floats straight in the stream of the windLike the weeds in the running brook.They wind with speed the upward way,An icey path thro’ rocks of ice,His eye is at the summit now,And thus far all is dangerless,And now upon the heightThe black Dogs pause and pant,They turn their eyes to ThalabaAs if to plead for pity,They moan and moan with fear.Once more away! and nowThe long descent is seen,A long, long, narrow path.Ice-rocks aright and hills of snow,Aleft the giddy precipice.Be firm, be firm, O Thalaba!One motion now, one bend,And on the crags belowThy shattered flesh will harden in the frost.Why howl the Dogs so mournfully?And wherefore does the blood flow fastAll purple o’er their sable hair?His arms are folded on his breast,Nor scourge nor goad has he,No hand appears to strike,No sounding lash is heard:But piteously they moan and moanAnd track their way with blood.And lo! on yonder heightA giant Fiend aloftWaits to thrust down the tottering Avalanche!If Thalaba looks back he dies,The motion of fear is death.On ... on ... with swift and steady paceAdown that dreadful way!The youth is firm, the Dogs are fleet,The Sledge goes rapidly,The thunder of the avalancheRe-echoes far behind.On ... on ... with swift and steady paceAdown that dreadful way!The Dogs are fleet, the way is steepThe Sledge goes rapidly,They reach the plain below.A wide, wide plain, all desolate,Nor tree, nor bush, nor herb!On go the Dogs with rapid step,The Sledge slides after rapidly,And now the Sun went down.They stopt and looked at Thalaba,The Youth performed his prayer;They knelt beside him as he prayedThey turned their heads to MeccaAnd tears ran down their cheeks.Then down they laid them in the snowAs close as they could lie,They laid them down and slept.And backward in the sledgeThe Adventurer laid him down,There peacefully slept Thalaba,And the Green Bird of ParadiseLay in his bosom warm.The Dogs awoke him at the dawn,They knelt and wept again;Then rapidly they journeyed on,And still the plain was desolate,Nor tree, nor bush, nor herb!And ever at the hour of prayerThey stopt, and knelt, and wept;And still that green and graceful BirdWas as a friend to him by day,And ever when at night he sleptLay in his bosom warm.In that most utter solitudeIt cheered his heart to hearHer soft and soothing voice;Her voice was soft and sweet,It swelled not with the blackbird’s thrill,Nor warbled rich like the dear bird, that holdsThe solitary manA loiterer in his thoughtful walk at eve;But if no overflowing joySpake in its tones of tendernessThey soothed the softened soul.Her bill was not the beak of blood;There was a human meaning in her eye,Its mild affection fixed on ThalabaWoke wonder while he gazedAnd made her dearer for the mystery.Oh joy! the signs of life appear,The first and single FirThat on the limits of the living worldStrikes in the ice its roots.Another, and another now;And now the Larch that flings its armsDown arching like the falling wave;And now the Aspin’s scattered leavesGrey glitter on the moveless twig;The Poplar’s varying verdure now,And now the Birch so beautiful,Light as a Lady’s plumes.Oh joy! the signs of life! the DeerHath left his slot beside the way;The little Ermine now is seenWhite wanderer of the snow;And now from yonder pines they hearThe clatter of the Grouse’s wings:And now the snowy Owl pursuesThe Traveller’s sledge in hope of food;And hark! the rosy-breasted birdThe Throstle of sweet song!Joy! joy! the winter-wilds are left!Green bushes now and greener grass,Red thickets here all berry-bright,And here the lovely flowers!When the last morning of their way arrived,After the early prayer,The Green Bird fixed on ThalabaA sad and supplicating eye,And with a human voice she spake,“Servant of God, I leave thee now.“If rightly I have guided thee,“Give me the boon I beg!”“O gentle Bird,” quoth Thalaba,“Guide and companion of my dangerous way,“Friend and sole solace of my solitude,“How can I pay thee benefits like these!“Ask what thou wilt that I can give,“O gentle Bird, the poor return“Will leave me debtor still!”“Son of Hodeirah!” she replied,“When thou shalt see an Old Man crushed beneath“The burthen of his earthly punishment,“Forgive him, Thalaba!“Yea, send a prayer to God on his behalf!”A flush o’erspread the young Destroyer’s cheek,He turned his eye towards the BirdAs if in half repentance; for he thoughtOf Okba; and his Father’s dying groanCame on his memory. The celestial BirdSaw and renewed her speech.“O Thalaba, if she who in thine arms“Received the dagger-blow and died for thee,“Deserve one kind remembrance ... save, O save“The Father that she loved from endless death!”“Laila! and is it thou?” the youth replied:“What is there that I durst refuse to thee?“This is no time to harbour in my heart“One evil thought ... here I put off revenge,“The last rebellious feeling ... be it so!“God grant to me the pardon that I need“As I do pardon him!“But who am I that I should save“The sinful soul alive?”“Enough!” said Laila. “When the hour shall come“Remember me! my task is done.“We meet again in Paradise!”She said and shook her wings, and up she soaredWith arrow-swiftness thro’ the heights of Heaven.His aching eye pursued her path,When starting onward went the Dogs,More rapidly they hurried onIn hope of near repose.It was the early morning yetWhen by the well-head of a brookThey stopt, their journey done.The spring was clear, the water deep,A venturous man were he and rashThat should have probed its depths,For all its loosened bed belowHeaved strangely up and down,And to and fro, from side to sideIt heaved, and waved, and tossed,And yet the depths were clear,And yet no ripple wrinkled o’erThe face of that fair Well.And on that Well so strange and fairA little boat there lay,Without on oar, without a sail,One only seat it had, one seatAs if for only Thalaba.And at the helm a Damsel stoodA Damsel bright and bold of eye,Yet did a maiden modestyAdorn her fearless brow.She seemed sorrowful, but sureMore beautiful for sorrow.To her the Dogs looked wistful up,And then their tongues were loosed,“Have we done well, O Mistress dear!“And shall our sufferings end?”The gentle Damsel made reply,“Poor Servants of the God I serve,“When all this witchery is destroyed“Your woes will end with mine.“A hope, alas! how long unknown!“This new adventurer gives:“Now God forbid that he, like you,“Should perish for his fears!“Poor Servants of the God I serve“Wait ye the event in peace.”A deep and total slumber as she spakeSeized them. Sleep on, poor sufferers! be at rest!Ye wake no more to anguish. Ye have borneThe Chosen, the Destroyer! soon his handShall strike the efficient blow,Soon shaking off your penal forms shall yeWith songs of joy amid the Eden grovesHymn the Deliverer’s praise!Then did the Damsel say to Thalaba,“The morn is young, the Sun is fair“And pleasantly thro’ pleasant banks“The quiet brook flows on....“Wilt thou embark with me?“Thou knowest not the water’s way,“Think Stranger well! and night must come,...“Wilt thou embark with me?“Thro’ fearful perils thou must pass,...“Stranger, the oppressed ask thine aid!“Thou wilt embark with me!”She smiled in tears upon the youth,...What heart were his who could gainsayThat melancholy smile?“Sail on, sail on,” quoth Thalaba,“Sail on, in Allah’s name!”He sate him on the single seat,The little boat moved on.Thro’ pleasant banks the quiet brookWent winding pleasantly;By fragrant fir groves now it past,And now thro’ alder-shores,Thro’ green and fertile meadows nowIt silently ran by.The flag-flower blossomed on its side,The willow tresses waved,The flowing current furrowed roundThe water-lilly’s floating leaf,The fly of green and gauzy wingFell sporting down its course.And grateful to the voyagerThe freshness of the running stream,The murmur round the prow.The little boat falls rapidlyAdown the rapid brook.But many a silent spring meantime,And many a rivuletHad swoln the growing brook,And when the southern Sun beganTo wind the downward way of heaven,It ran a river deep and wideThro’ banks that widened still.Then once again the Damsel spake,“The stream is strong, the river broad,“Wilt thou go on with me?“The day is fair but night must come....“Wilt thou go on with me?“Far far away the mourner’s eye“Is watching; for our little boat....“Thou wilt go on with me!”“Sail on, sail on,” quoth Thalaba,“Sail on, in Allah’s name!”The little boat falls rapidlyAdown the river-stream.A broader and a broader stream.That rocked the little boat!The Cormorant stands upon its shoals,His black and dripping wingsHalf opened to the wind.The Sun goes down, the crescent MoonIs brightening in the firmament;And what is yonder roarThat sinking now and swelling now,But roaring, roaring still,Still louder, louder, grows?The little boat falls rapidlyAdown the rapid tide,The Moon is bright above,And the wide Ocean opens on their way!Then did the Damsel speak again“Wilt thou go on with me?“The Moon is bright, the sea is calm“And I know well the ocean-paths;...“Wilt thou go on with me?“Deliverer! yes! thou dost not fear!“Thou wilt go on with me!”“Sail on, sail on!” quoth Thalaba“Sail on, in Allah’s name!”The Moon is bright, the sea is calm,The little boat rides rapidlyAcross the ocean waves;The line of moonlight on the deepStill follows as they voyage on;The winds are motionless;The gentle waters gently partIn murmurs round the prow.He looks above, he looks around,The boundless heaven, the boundless sea,The crescent moon, the little boat,Nought else above, below.The Moon is sunk, a dusky greySpreads o’er the Eastern sky,The Stars grow pale and paler;Oh beautiful! the godlike SunIs rising o’er the sea!Without an oar, without a sailThe little boat rides rapidly;...Is that a cloud that skirts the sea?There is no cloud in heaven!And nearer now, and darker now....It is ... it is ... the Land!For yonder are the rocks that riseDark in the reddening morn,For loud around their hollow baseThe surges rage and roar.The little boat rides rapidly,And now with shorter toss it heavesUpon the heavier swell;And now so near they seeThe shelves and shadows of the cliff,And the low-lurking rocksO’er whose black summits hidden-halfThe shivering billows burst.And nearer now they feel the breaker’s spray.Then spake the Damsel, “yonder is our path“Beneath the cavern arch.“Now is the ebb, and till the ocean-flow“We cannot over-ride the rocks.“Go thou and on the shore“Perform thy last ablutions, and with prayer“Strengthen thy heart.... I too have need to pray.”She held the helm with steady handAmid the stronger waves,Thro’ surge and surf she drove,The adventurer leapt to land.
O fool to think thy human handCould check the chariot-wheels of DestinyTo dream of weakness in the all-knowing MindThat his decrees should change!To hope that the united PowersOf Earth, and Air, and Hell,Might blot one letter from the Book of Fate,Might break one link of the eternal chain!Thou miserable, wicked, poor old man,Fall now upon the body of thy child,Beat now thy breast, and pluck the bleeding hairsFrom thy grey beard, and layThine ineffectual hand to close her wound.And call on Hell to aid,And call on Heaven to sendIts merciful thunderbolt!
The young Arabian silentlyBeheld his frantic grief.The presence of the hated youthTo raging anguish stungThe wretched Sorcerer.“Aye! look and triumph!” he exclaimed,“This is the justice of thy God!“A righteous God is he, to let“His vengeance fall upon the innocent head!“Curse thee, curse thee, Thalaba!”
All feelings of revengeHad left Hodeirah’s son.Pitying and silently he heardThe victim of his own iniquities,Not with the busy handOf Consolation, fretting the sore woundHe could not hope to heal.
So as the Servant of the Prophet stood,With sudden motion the night airGently fanned his cheek.’Twas a Green Bird whose wingsHad waved the quiet air.On the hand of ThalabaThe Green Bird perched, and turnedA mild eye up, as if to winThe Adventurer’s confidence.Then springing on flew forward,And now again returnsTo court him to the way;And now his hand perceivesHer rosy feet press firmer, as she leapsUpon the wing again.
Obedient to the call,By the pale moonlight Thalaba pursuedO’er trackless snows his way;Unknowing he what blessed messengerHad come to guide his steps,That Laila’s Spirit went before his path.Brought up in darkness and the child of sin,Yet as the meed of spotless innocence,Just Heaven permitted her by one good deedTo work her own redemption, after death;So till the judgement dayShe might abide in bliss,Green[173]warbler of the Bowers of Paradise.
The morning sun came forth,Wakening no eye to lifeIn this wide solitude;His radiance with a saffron hue, like heat,Suffused the desert snow.The Green Bird guided Thalaba,Now oaring with slow wing her upward way,Descending now in slant descentOn out-spread pinions motionless,Floating now with rise and fall alternate,As if the billows of the airHeaved her with their sink and swell.
And when, beneath the noon,The icey glitter of the snowDazzled his aching sight,Then on his arm alighted the Green BirdAnd spread before his eyesHer plumage of refreshing hue.Evening came on; the glowing cloudsTinged with a purple ray the mountain ridgeThat lay before the Traveller.Ah! whither art thou gone,Guide and companion of the youth, whose eyeHas lost thee in the depth of Heaven?Why hast thou left aloneThe weary wanderer in the wilderness?And now the western clouds grow paleAnd Night descends upon his solitude.
The Arabian youth knelt down,And bowed his forehead to the groundAnd made his evening prayer.When he arose the stars were bright in heaven,The sky was blue, and the cold MoonShone over the cold snow.A speck in the air!Is it his guide that approaches?For it moves with the motion of life!Lo! she returns and scatters from her pinionsOdours diviner than the gales of morningWaft from Sabea.
Hovering before the youth she hung,Till from her rosy feet that at his touchUncurled their grasp, he tookThe fruitful bough they bore.He took and tasted, a new lifeFlowed thro’ his renovated frame;His limbs that late were sore and stiffFelt all the freshness of repose,His dizzy brain was calmed.The heavy aching of his lidsAt once was taken off,For Laila from the Bowers of ParadiseHad borne the healing[174]fruit.
So up the mountain steepWith untired foot he past,The Green Bird guiding himMid crags, and ice, and rocks,A difficult way, winding the long ascent.How then the heart of Thalaba rejoicedWhen bosomed in the mountain depths,A sheltered Valley opened on his view!It was the Simorg’s vale,The dwelling of the ancient Bird.
On a green and mossy bank.Beside a rivuletThe Bird of Ages stood.No sound intruded on his solitude,Only the rivulet was heardWhose everlasting flowFrom the birth-day of the world had madeThe same unvaried murmuring.Here dwelt the all-knowing BirdIn deep tranquillity,His eyelids ever closedIn full enjoyment of profound repose.
Reverently the youth approachedThat old and only[175]Bird,And crossed his arms upon his breast,And bowed his head and spake.“Earliest of existing things,“Earliest thou, and wisest thou,“Guide me, guide me, on my way!“I am bound to seek the caverns“Underneath the roots of Ocean“Where the Sorcerer brood are nurst.“Thou the eldest, thou the wisest,“Guide me, guide me, on my way!”
The ancient Simorg on the youthUnclosed his thoughtful eyes,And answered to his prayer.“Northward by the stream proceed,“In the fountain of the rock“Wash away thy worldly stains,“Kneel thou there, and seek the Lord“And fortify thy soul with prayer.“Thus prepared ascend the Sledge,“Be bold, be wary, seek and find!“God hath appointed all.”The ancient Simorg then let fall his lidsReturning to repose.
Northward along the rivuletThe adventurer went his way,Tracing its waters upward to their source.Green Bird of ParadiseThou hast not left the youth;...With slow associate flightShe companies his way,And now they reach the fountain of the rock.
There in the cold clear wellThalaba washed away his earthly stains,And bowed his face before the Lord,And fortified his soul with prayer.The while upon the rockStood the celestial Bird,And pondering all the perils he must pass,With a mild melancholy eyeBeheld the youth beloved.
And lo! beneath yon lonely pine, the sledge....And there they stand the harnessed Dogs,Their wide eyes watching for the youth,Their ears erected turned towards his way.They were lean as lean might be,Their furrowed ribs rose prominent,And they were black from head to foot,Save a white line on every breastCurved like the crescent moon.And he is seated in the sledge,His arms are folded on his breast,The bird is on his knees;There is fear in the eyes of the Dogs,There is fear in their pitiful moan,And now they turn their heads,And seeing him there, Away!
The Youth with the start of their speedFalls back to the bar of the sledge,His hair floats straight in the stream of the windLike the weeds in the running brook.They wind with speed the upward way,An icey path thro’ rocks of ice,His eye is at the summit now,And thus far all is dangerless,And now upon the heightThe black Dogs pause and pant,They turn their eyes to ThalabaAs if to plead for pity,They moan and moan with fear.
Once more away! and nowThe long descent is seen,A long, long, narrow path.Ice-rocks aright and hills of snow,Aleft the giddy precipice.Be firm, be firm, O Thalaba!One motion now, one bend,And on the crags belowThy shattered flesh will harden in the frost.Why howl the Dogs so mournfully?And wherefore does the blood flow fastAll purple o’er their sable hair?His arms are folded on his breast,Nor scourge nor goad has he,No hand appears to strike,No sounding lash is heard:But piteously they moan and moanAnd track their way with blood.
And lo! on yonder heightA giant Fiend aloftWaits to thrust down the tottering Avalanche!If Thalaba looks back he dies,The motion of fear is death.On ... on ... with swift and steady paceAdown that dreadful way!The youth is firm, the Dogs are fleet,The Sledge goes rapidly,The thunder of the avalancheRe-echoes far behind.On ... on ... with swift and steady paceAdown that dreadful way!The Dogs are fleet, the way is steepThe Sledge goes rapidly,They reach the plain below.
A wide, wide plain, all desolate,Nor tree, nor bush, nor herb!On go the Dogs with rapid step,The Sledge slides after rapidly,And now the Sun went down.They stopt and looked at Thalaba,The Youth performed his prayer;They knelt beside him as he prayedThey turned their heads to MeccaAnd tears ran down their cheeks.Then down they laid them in the snowAs close as they could lie,They laid them down and slept.And backward in the sledgeThe Adventurer laid him down,There peacefully slept Thalaba,And the Green Bird of ParadiseLay in his bosom warm.
The Dogs awoke him at the dawn,They knelt and wept again;Then rapidly they journeyed on,And still the plain was desolate,Nor tree, nor bush, nor herb!And ever at the hour of prayerThey stopt, and knelt, and wept;And still that green and graceful BirdWas as a friend to him by day,And ever when at night he sleptLay in his bosom warm.In that most utter solitudeIt cheered his heart to hearHer soft and soothing voice;Her voice was soft and sweet,It swelled not with the blackbird’s thrill,Nor warbled rich like the dear bird, that holdsThe solitary manA loiterer in his thoughtful walk at eve;But if no overflowing joySpake in its tones of tendernessThey soothed the softened soul.Her bill was not the beak of blood;There was a human meaning in her eye,Its mild affection fixed on ThalabaWoke wonder while he gazedAnd made her dearer for the mystery.
Oh joy! the signs of life appear,The first and single FirThat on the limits of the living worldStrikes in the ice its roots.Another, and another now;And now the Larch that flings its armsDown arching like the falling wave;And now the Aspin’s scattered leavesGrey glitter on the moveless twig;The Poplar’s varying verdure now,And now the Birch so beautiful,Light as a Lady’s plumes.Oh joy! the signs of life! the DeerHath left his slot beside the way;The little Ermine now is seenWhite wanderer of the snow;And now from yonder pines they hearThe clatter of the Grouse’s wings:And now the snowy Owl pursuesThe Traveller’s sledge in hope of food;And hark! the rosy-breasted birdThe Throstle of sweet song!Joy! joy! the winter-wilds are left!Green bushes now and greener grass,Red thickets here all berry-bright,And here the lovely flowers!
When the last morning of their way arrived,After the early prayer,The Green Bird fixed on ThalabaA sad and supplicating eye,And with a human voice she spake,“Servant of God, I leave thee now.“If rightly I have guided thee,“Give me the boon I beg!”
“O gentle Bird,” quoth Thalaba,“Guide and companion of my dangerous way,“Friend and sole solace of my solitude,“How can I pay thee benefits like these!“Ask what thou wilt that I can give,“O gentle Bird, the poor return“Will leave me debtor still!”
“Son of Hodeirah!” she replied,“When thou shalt see an Old Man crushed beneath“The burthen of his earthly punishment,“Forgive him, Thalaba!“Yea, send a prayer to God on his behalf!”
A flush o’erspread the young Destroyer’s cheek,He turned his eye towards the BirdAs if in half repentance; for he thoughtOf Okba; and his Father’s dying groanCame on his memory. The celestial BirdSaw and renewed her speech.“O Thalaba, if she who in thine arms“Received the dagger-blow and died for thee,“Deserve one kind remembrance ... save, O save“The Father that she loved from endless death!”
“Laila! and is it thou?” the youth replied:“What is there that I durst refuse to thee?“This is no time to harbour in my heart“One evil thought ... here I put off revenge,“The last rebellious feeling ... be it so!“God grant to me the pardon that I need“As I do pardon him!“But who am I that I should save“The sinful soul alive?”
“Enough!” said Laila. “When the hour shall come“Remember me! my task is done.“We meet again in Paradise!”She said and shook her wings, and up she soaredWith arrow-swiftness thro’ the heights of Heaven.
His aching eye pursued her path,When starting onward went the Dogs,More rapidly they hurried onIn hope of near repose.It was the early morning yetWhen by the well-head of a brookThey stopt, their journey done.The spring was clear, the water deep,A venturous man were he and rashThat should have probed its depths,For all its loosened bed belowHeaved strangely up and down,And to and fro, from side to sideIt heaved, and waved, and tossed,And yet the depths were clear,And yet no ripple wrinkled o’erThe face of that fair Well.
And on that Well so strange and fairA little boat there lay,Without on oar, without a sail,One only seat it had, one seatAs if for only Thalaba.And at the helm a Damsel stoodA Damsel bright and bold of eye,Yet did a maiden modestyAdorn her fearless brow.She seemed sorrowful, but sureMore beautiful for sorrow.To her the Dogs looked wistful up,And then their tongues were loosed,“Have we done well, O Mistress dear!“And shall our sufferings end?”
The gentle Damsel made reply,“Poor Servants of the God I serve,“When all this witchery is destroyed“Your woes will end with mine.“A hope, alas! how long unknown!“This new adventurer gives:“Now God forbid that he, like you,“Should perish for his fears!“Poor Servants of the God I serve“Wait ye the event in peace.”A deep and total slumber as she spakeSeized them. Sleep on, poor sufferers! be at rest!Ye wake no more to anguish. Ye have borneThe Chosen, the Destroyer! soon his handShall strike the efficient blow,Soon shaking off your penal forms shall yeWith songs of joy amid the Eden grovesHymn the Deliverer’s praise!
Then did the Damsel say to Thalaba,“The morn is young, the Sun is fair“And pleasantly thro’ pleasant banks“The quiet brook flows on....“Wilt thou embark with me?“Thou knowest not the water’s way,“Think Stranger well! and night must come,...“Wilt thou embark with me?“Thro’ fearful perils thou must pass,...“Stranger, the oppressed ask thine aid!“Thou wilt embark with me!”
She smiled in tears upon the youth,...What heart were his who could gainsayThat melancholy smile?“Sail on, sail on,” quoth Thalaba,“Sail on, in Allah’s name!”
He sate him on the single seat,The little boat moved on.Thro’ pleasant banks the quiet brookWent winding pleasantly;By fragrant fir groves now it past,And now thro’ alder-shores,Thro’ green and fertile meadows nowIt silently ran by.The flag-flower blossomed on its side,The willow tresses waved,The flowing current furrowed roundThe water-lilly’s floating leaf,The fly of green and gauzy wingFell sporting down its course.And grateful to the voyagerThe freshness of the running stream,The murmur round the prow.The little boat falls rapidlyAdown the rapid brook.
But many a silent spring meantime,And many a rivuletHad swoln the growing brook,And when the southern Sun beganTo wind the downward way of heaven,It ran a river deep and wideThro’ banks that widened still.Then once again the Damsel spake,“The stream is strong, the river broad,“Wilt thou go on with me?“The day is fair but night must come....“Wilt thou go on with me?“Far far away the mourner’s eye“Is watching; for our little boat....“Thou wilt go on with me!”“Sail on, sail on,” quoth Thalaba,“Sail on, in Allah’s name!”The little boat falls rapidlyAdown the river-stream.
A broader and a broader stream.That rocked the little boat!The Cormorant stands upon its shoals,His black and dripping wingsHalf opened to the wind.The Sun goes down, the crescent MoonIs brightening in the firmament;And what is yonder roarThat sinking now and swelling now,But roaring, roaring still,Still louder, louder, grows?The little boat falls rapidlyAdown the rapid tide,The Moon is bright above,And the wide Ocean opens on their way!
Then did the Damsel speak again“Wilt thou go on with me?“The Moon is bright, the sea is calm“And I know well the ocean-paths;...“Wilt thou go on with me?“Deliverer! yes! thou dost not fear!“Thou wilt go on with me!”“Sail on, sail on!” quoth Thalaba“Sail on, in Allah’s name!”
The Moon is bright, the sea is calm,The little boat rides rapidlyAcross the ocean waves;The line of moonlight on the deepStill follows as they voyage on;The winds are motionless;The gentle waters gently partIn murmurs round the prow.He looks above, he looks around,The boundless heaven, the boundless sea,The crescent moon, the little boat,Nought else above, below.
The Moon is sunk, a dusky greySpreads o’er the Eastern sky,The Stars grow pale and paler;Oh beautiful! the godlike SunIs rising o’er the sea!Without an oar, without a sailThe little boat rides rapidly;...Is that a cloud that skirts the sea?There is no cloud in heaven!And nearer now, and darker now....It is ... it is ... the Land!For yonder are the rocks that riseDark in the reddening morn,For loud around their hollow baseThe surges rage and roar.
The little boat rides rapidly,And now with shorter toss it heavesUpon the heavier swell;And now so near they seeThe shelves and shadows of the cliff,And the low-lurking rocksO’er whose black summits hidden-halfThe shivering billows burst.And nearer now they feel the breaker’s spray.Then spake the Damsel, “yonder is our path“Beneath the cavern arch.“Now is the ebb, and till the ocean-flow“We cannot over-ride the rocks.“Go thou and on the shore“Perform thy last ablutions, and with prayer“Strengthen thy heart.... I too have need to pray.”
She held the helm with steady handAmid the stronger waves,Thro’ surge and surf she drove,The adventurer leapt to land.