Part 11

He tarried not,... he past The threshold, over which was no return. All earthly thoughts, all human hopes And passions now put off, He cast no backward glance Towards the gleam of day. There was a light within, A yellow light, as when the autumnal Sun Through travelling rain and mist Shines on the evening hills. Whether from central fires effused, Or if the sunbeams day by day, From earliest generations, there absorbed, Were gathering for the wrath-flame. Shade was In those portentous vaults; Crag overhanging, nor the column-rock Cast its dark outline there. For with the hot and heavy atmosphere The light incorporate, permeating all, Spread over all its equal yellowness. There was no motion in the lifeless air, He felt no stirring as he past Adown the long descent, He heard not his own footsteps on the rock That thro' the thick stagnation sent no sound. How sweet it were, he thought, To feel the flowing wind! With what a thirst of joy He should breathe in the open gales of heaven!

Downward and downward still, and still the way, The long, long, way is safe. Is there no secret wile No lurking enemy? His watchful eye is on the wall of rock,... And warily he marks the roof And warily surveyed The path that lay before. Downward and downward still, and still the way, The long, long, way is safe; Rock only, the same light, The same dead atmosphere, And solitude, and silence like the grave.

At length the long descent Ends on a precipice; No feeble ray entered its dreadful gulphs, For in the pit profound Black Darkness, utter Night, Repelled the hostile gleam, And o'er the surface the light atmosphere Floated and mingled not. Above the depth four overawning wings, Unplumed and huge and strong, Bore up a little car; Four living pinions, headless, bodyless, Sprung from one stem that branched below In four down-arching limbs, And clenched the car-rings endlong and aside With claws of griffin grasp.

But not on these, the depths so terrible, The wonderous wings, fixed Thalaba his eye, For there upon the brink, With fiery fetters fastened to the rock, A man, a living man, tormented lay, The young Othatha; in the arms of love, He who had lingered out the auspicious hour Forgetful of his call. In shuddering pity Thalaba exclaimed "Servant of God, can I not succour thee?" He groaned and answered, "Son of Man, "I sinned and am tormented; I endure "In patience and in hope. "The hour that shall destroy the Race of Hell, "That hour shall set me free."

"Is it not come?" quoth Thalaba, "Yea! by this omen." And with fearless hand He grasped the burning fetters, "in the name "Of God!" and from the rock Rooted the rivets, and adown the gulph Hurled them. The rush of flames roared up, For they had kindled in their fall The deadly vapours of the pit profound, And Thalaba bent on and looked below. But vainly he explored The deep abyss of flame That sunk beyond the plunge of mortal eye, Now all ablaze as if infernal fires Illumed the world beneath. Soon was the poison-fuel spent, The flame grew pale and dim, And dimmer now it fades and now is quenched, And all again is dark, Save where the yellow air Enters a little in and mingles slow.

Meantime the freed Othatha clasped his knees And cried, "Deliverer!" struggling then With joyful hope, "and where is she," he cried, "Whose promised coming for so many a year...." "Go!" answered Thalaba, "She waits thee at the gates." "And in thy triumph," he replied, "There thou wilt join us?" the Deliverer's eye Glanced on the abyss, way else was none.... The depth was unascendable. "Await not me," he cried, "My path hath been appointed, go ... embark! "Return to life,... live happy!"

OTHATHA.

But thy name,... That thro' the nations we may blazon it, That we may bless thee.

THALABA.

Bless the Merciful!

Then Thalaba pronounced the name of God And leapt into the car. Down, down, it sunk,... down down.... He neither breathes nor sees; His eyes are closed for giddiness His breath is sinking with the fall. The air that yields beneath the car Inflates the wings above. Down ... down ... a mighty depth!... And was the Simorgh with the Powers of ill Associate to destroy? And was that lovely mariner A fiend as false as fair? For still he sinks down ... down.... But ever the uprushing wind Inflates the wings above, And still the struggling wings Repel the rushing wind. Down ... down ... and now it strikes.

He stands and totters giddily, All objects round, awhile, Float dizzy on his sight. Collected soon he gazes for the way. There was a distant light that led his search; The torch a broader blaze, The unpruned taper flames a longer flame, But this was fierce as is the noon-tide sun, So in the glory of its rays intense It quivered with green glow. Beyond was all unseen, No eye could penetrate That unendurable excess of light. It veiled no friendly form, thought Thalaba, And wisely did he deem, For at the threshold of the rocky door, Hugest and fiercest of his kind accurst, Fit warden of the sorcery gate A rebel Afreet lay. He scented the approach of human food And hungry hope kindled his eye of flame. Raising his hand to save the dazzled sense Onward held Thalaba, And lifted still at times a rapid glance. Till, the due distance gained, With head abased, he laid The arrow in its rest. With steady effort and knit forehead then, Full on the painful light He fixed his aching eye, and loosed the bow.

An anguish yell ensued, And sure no human voice had scope or power For that prodigious shriek Whose pealing echoes thundered up the rock. Dim grew the dying light, But Thalaba leapt onward to the doors Now visible beyond, And while the Afreet warden of the way Was writhing with his death-pangs, over him Sprung and smote the stony doors, And bade them in the name of God give way.

The dying Fiend beneath him at that name Tossed in worse agony, And the rocks shuddered, and the rocky doors Rent at the voice asunder. Lo ... within.... The Teraph and the fire, And Khawla, and in mail complete Mohareb for the strife. But Thalaba with numbing force Smites his raised arm, and rushes by, For now he sees the fire amid whose flames On the white ashes of Hodeirah lies Hodeirah's holy Sword.

He rushes to the fire, Then Khawla met the youth And leapt upon him, and with clinging arms Clasps him, and calls Mohareb now to aim The effectual vengeance. O fool! fool! he sees His Father's Sword, and who shall bar his way? Who stand against the fury of that arm That spurns her to the earth? She rises half, she twists around his knees, A moment ... and he vainly strives To shake her from her hold, Impatient then into her cursed breast He stamps his crushing heel, And from her body, heaving now in death Springs forward to the Sword.

The co-existent flame Knew the Destroyer; it encircled him, Rolled up his robe and gathered round his head, Condensing to intenser splendour there, His crown of glory and his light of life Hovered the irradiate wreath. The moment Thalaba had laid his hand Upon his Father's Sword, The Living Image in the inner cave Smote the Round Altar. The Domdaniel rocked Thro' all its thundering vaults; Over the surface of the reeling Earth The alarum shock was felt: The Sorcerer brood, all, all, where'er dispersed, Perforce obeyed the summons; all, they came Compelled by Hell and Heaven, By Hell compelled to keep Their baptism-covenant, And with the union of their strength Oppose the common danger; forced by Heaven To share the common doom.

Vain are all spells! the Destroyer Treads the Domdaniel floor. They crowd with human arms and human force To crush the single foe; Vain is all human force! He wields his Father's Sword, The vengeance of awakened Deity! But chief on Thalaba Mohareb prest, The language of the inspired Witch Announced one fatal blow for both, And desperate of self-safety, yet he hoped To serve the cause of Eblis, and uphold His empire true in death.

Who shall withstand his way? Scattered before the sword of Thalaba The sorcerer throng recede And leave him space for combat. Wretched man What shall the helmet or the shield avail Against Almighty anger! wretched man, Too late Mohareb finds that he has chosen The evil part! he rears his shield To meet the Arabian's sword,... Under the edge of that fire-hardened steel The shield falls severed; his cold arm Rings with the jarring blow,... He lifts his scymetar, A second stroke, and lo! the broken hilt Hangs from his palsied hand! And now he bleeds! and now he flies! And fain would hide himself amid the throng, But they feel the sword of Hodeirah, But they also fly from the ruin! And hasten to the inner cave, And fall all fearfully Around the Giant Idol's feet, Seeking salvation from the Power they served.

It was a Living Image, by the art Of magic hands of flesh and bones composed, And human blood thro' veins and arteries That flowed with vital action. In the shape Of Eblis it was made, Its stature such and such its strength As when among the Sons of God Pre-eminent, he raised his radiant head, Prince of the Morning. On his brow A coronet of meteor flames, Flowing in points of light. Self-poised in air before him, Hung the Round Altar, rolling like the World On its diurnal axis, like the World Checquered with sea and shore, The work of Demon art. For where the sceptre in the Idol's hand Touched the Round Altar, in its answering realm Earth felt the stroke, and Ocean rose in storms, And ruining Cities shaken from their seat Crushed all their habitants. His other arm was raised, and its spread palm Up-bore the ocean-weight Whose naked waters arched the sanctuary, Sole prop and pillar he.

Fallen on the ground around his feet The Sorcerers lay. Mohareb's quivering arms Clung to the Idol's knees; The Idol's face was pale And calm in terror he beheld The approach of the Destroyer.

Sure of his stroke, and therefore in pursuit Following, nor blind, nor hasty on his foe, Moved the Destroyer. Okba met his way, Of all that brotherhood He only fearless, miserable man, The one that had no hope. "On me, on me," the childless Sorcerer cried, "Let fall the weapon! I am he who stole "Upon the midnight of thy Father's tent, "This is the hand that pierced Hodeirah's heart, "That felt thy brethren's and thy sister's blood "Gush round the dagger-hilt. Let fall on me "The fated sword! the vengeance hour is come! "Destroyer, do thy work!"

Nor wile, nor weapon, had the desperate wretch, He spread his bosom to the stroke. "Old man, I strike thee not!" said Thalaba, "The evil thou hast done to me and mine "Brought its own bitter punishment. "For thy dear Daughter's sake I pardon thee, "As I do hope Heaven's pardon. For her sake "Repent while time is yet! thou hast my prayers "To aid thee; thou poor sinner, cast thyself "Upon the goodness of offended God! "I speak in Laila's name, and what if now "Thou canst not think to join in Paradise "Her spotless Spirit,... hath not Allah made "Al-Araf[176] in his wisdom? where the sight "Of Heaven shall kindle in the penitent "The strong and purifying fire of hope, "Till at the day of judgement he shall see "The Mercy-Gates unfold."

The astonished man stood gazing as he spake, At length his heart was softened, and the tears Gushed, and he sobbed aloud. Then suddenly was heard The all-beholding Prophet's aweful voice, "Thou hast done well, my Servant! "Ask and receive thy reward!"

A deep and aweful joy Seemed to distend the heart of Thalaba; With arms in reverence crost upon his breast, Upseeking eyes suffused with transport-tears He answered to the Voice, "Prophet of God, "Holy, and good, and bountiful! "One only earthly wish have I, to work "Thy will, and thy protection grants me that. "Look on this Sorcerer! heavy are his crimes, "But infinite is mercy! if thy servant "Have now found favour in the sight of God, "Let him be touched with penitence, and save "His soul from utter death."

"The groans of penitence," replied the Voice "Never arise unheard! "But for thyself prefer the prayer, "The Treasure-house of Heaven "Is open to thy will."

"Prophet of God!" then answered Thalaba, "I am alone on earth. "Thou knowest the secret wishes of my heart! "Do with me as thou wilt! thy will is best."

There issued forth no Voice to answer him, But lo! Hodeirah's Spirit comes to see His vengeance, and beside him, a pure form Of roseate light, the Angel mother hangs. "My Child, my dear, my glorious, blessed Child, "My promise is performed ... fufil thy work!"

Thalaba knew that his death-hour was come, And on he leapt, and springing up, Into the Idol's heart Hilt-deep he drove the Sword. The Ocean-Vault fell in, and all were crushed. In the same moment at the gate Of Paradise, Oneiza's Houri-form Welcomed her Husband to eternal bliss.

END.

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FOOTNOTES:

[1] The Lord gave, and the Lord taketh away; blessed be the name of the Lord.----_Job._ i. 21.

I have placed a scripture phrase in the mouth of a Mohammedan; but it is a saying of Job, and there can be no impropriety in making a modern Arab speak like an ancient one. Resignation is particularly inculcated by Mohammed, and of all his precepts it is that which his followers have best observed: it is even the vice of the East. It had been easy to have made Zeinab speak from the Koran, if the tame language of the Koran could be remembered by the few who have toiled through its dull tautology. I thought it better to express a feeling of religion in that language with which our religious ideas are connected.

[2]

La mer n'est plus qu'un cercle aux yeux des Matelots, Ou le Ciel forme un dôme appuyé sur les flots. _Le Nouveau Monde. par M. Le Suire._

[3] The magnificent Mosque Tauris is faced with varnished bricks of various colours, _like most fine buildings in Persia_, says Tavernier. One of its domes is covered with white flower work upon a green ground, the other has a black ground, spotted with white stars. Gilding is also common upon Oriental buildings. At Boghar in Bactria our old traveller Jenkinson[a] saw "many houses, temples, and monuments of stone sumptuously builded and gilt."

[a] Hakluyt.

In Pegu "they consume about their Varely or idol houses great store of leafe-gold, for that they overlay all the tops of the houses with gold, and some of them are covered with gold from the top to the foote; in covering whereof there is great store of gold spent, for that every ten years they new overlay them with gold, from the top to the foote, so that with this vanetie they spend great aboundance of golde. For every ten years the rain doeth consume the gold from these houses."

_Cæsar Frederick, in Hakluyt._

A waste of ornament and labour characterises all the works of the Orientalists. I have seen illuminated Persian manuscripts that must each have been the toil of many years, every page painted, not with representations of life and manners, but usually like the curves and lines of a Turkey carpet, conveying no idea whatever, as absurd to the eye as nonsense-verses to the ear. The little of their literature that has reached us is equally worthless. Our _barbarian_ scholars have called Ferdusi the Oriental Homer. We have a specimen of his poem; the translation is said to be bad, and certainly must be unfaithful, for it is in rhyme; but the vilest copy of a picture at least represents the subject and the composition. To make this Iliad of the East, as they have sacrilegiously stiled it, a good poem, would be realizing the dreams of Alchemy, and transmuting lead into gold.

The Arabian Tales certainly abound with genius; they have lost their metaphorical rubbish in passing through the filter of a French translation.

[4] The Arabians call this palace one of the wonders of the world. It was built for Nôman-al-Aôuar, one of those Arabian Kings who reigned at Hirah. A single stone fastened the whole structure; the colour of the walls varied frequently in a day. Nôman richly rewarded the architect Sennamar; but recollecting afterwards that he might build palaces equal, or superior in beauty for his rival kings, ordered that he should be thrown from the highest tower of the edifice.

_D'Herbelot._

[5] The tribe of Ad were descended from Ad, the son of Aus or Uz, the son of Irem, the son of Shem, the son of Noah, who after the confusion of tongues, settled in Al Ahkâf, or the winding sands, in the province of Hadramaut, where his posterity greatly multiplied. Their first King was Shedad, the son of Ad, of whom the eastern writers deliver many fabulous things, particularly that he finished the magnificent city his father had begun, wherein he built a fine palace, adorned with delicious gardens, to embellish which he spared neither cost nor labour, proposing thereby to create in his subjects a superstitious veneration of himself as a God. This garden or paradise was called the garden of Irem, and is mentioned in the Koran, and often alluded to by the Oriental writers. The city they tell us, is still standing in the desarts of Aden, being preserved by providence as a monument of divine justice, though it be invisible, unless very rarely, when God permits it to be seen: a favour one Colabah pretended to have received in the reign of the Khalif Moâwiyah, who sending for him to know the truth of the matter, Colabah related his whole adventure; that is he was seeking a Camel he had lost, he found himself on a sudden at the gates of this city, and entering it, saw not one inhabitant, at which being terrified, he stayed no longer than to take with him some fine stones which he shewed the Khalif.

_Sale._

The descendants of Ad in process of time falling from the worship of the true God into idolatry, God sent the prophet Houd (who is generally agreed to be Heber) to preach the unity of his essence and reclaim them. Houd preached for many years to this people without effect, till God at last was weary of waiting for their repentance. The first punishment which he inflicted was a famine of three years continuance, during all which time the heavens were closed upon them. This, with the evils which it caused, destroyed a great part of this people, who were then the richest and most powerful of all in Arabia.

The Adites seeing themselves reduced to this extremity, and receiving no succour from their false Gods, resolved to make a pilgrimage to a place in the province of Hegiaz, where at present Mecca is situated. There was then a hillock of red sand there, around which a great concourse of different people might always be seen; and all these nations, the faithful as well as the unfaithful, believed that by visiting this spot with devotion, they should obtain from God whatever they petitioned for, respecting the wants and necessities of life.

The Adites having then resolved to undertake this religious journey, chose seventy men, at whose head they appointed Mortadh and Kail, the two most considerable personages of the country, to perform this duty in the name of the whole nation, and by this means procure rain from Heaven, without which their country must be ruined. The deputees departed, and were hospitably received by Moâwiyah, who at that time reigned in the province of Hegiaz. They explained to him the occasion of their journey, and demanded leave to proceed and perform their devotions at the Red Hillock, that they might procure rain.

Mortadh, who was the wisest of this company, and who had been converted by the Prophet Houd, often remonstrated with his associates that it was useless to to take this journey for the purpose of praying at this chosen spot, unless they had previously adopted the truths which the Prophet preached, and seriously repented of their unbelief. For how, said he, can you hope that God will shed upon us the abundant showers of his mercy, if we refuse to hear the voice of him whom he hath sent to instruct us?

Kail who was one of the most obstinate in error, and consequently of the Prophets worst enemies, hearing the discourses of his colleague, requested King Moâwiyah to detain Mortadh prisoner, whilst he and the remainder of his companions proceeded to make their prayers upon the Hillock. Moâwiyah consented, and detaining Mortadh captive, permitted the others to pursue their journey and accomplish their vow.

Kail, now the sole chief of the deputation, having arrived at the place, prayed thus, Lord give to the people of Ad such rains as it shall please thee. And he had scarcely finished when there appeared three clouds in the sky, one white, one red, the third black. At the same time these words were heard to proceed from Heaven, chuse which of the three thou wilt. Kail chose the black, which he imagined the fullest, and most abundant in water, of which they were in extreme want. After having chosen, he immediately quitted the place and took the road to his own country, congratulating himself on the happy success of his pilgrimage.

As soon as Kail arrived in the valley of Magaith, a part of the territory of the Adites, he informed his countrymen of the favourable answer he had received, and of the cloud which was soon to water all their lands. The senseless people all came out of their houses to receive it, but this cloud, which was big with the divine vengeance produced only a wind, most cold and most violent, which the Arabs call Sarsar; it continued to blow for seven days and seven nights, and exterminated all the unbelievers of the country, leaving only the Prophet Houd alive, and those who had heard him and turned to the faith.

_D'Herbelot_

[6] Al-Ahkaf signifies the Winding Sands.

[7] I have heard from a certain Cyprian botanist, that the Ebony does not produce either leaves or fruit, and that it is never seen exposed to the sun: that its roots are indeed under the earth, which the Æthiopians dig out, and that there are men among them skilled in finding the place of its concealment.

_Pausanias, translated by Taylor._

[8] The Adites worshipped four Idols, Sakiah the dispenser of rain, Hafedah the protector of travellers, Razecah the giver of food, and Salemah the preserver in sickness.

_D'Herbelot. Sale._