Part 2

The general deduction follows, that the same thinking intellectual principle pervades all animated existences; created by the DEITY, and bestowed in such measures upon the different species as appeared in His wisdom requisite for the destiny and happiness of each; thus establishing a scale from man to the lowest orders of animalculæ; and the successive steps downward from the man of the highest intellectual range to the man of the lowest, are no farther than from the latter to the most intelligent animal; and from him successively to the lowest in the scale of intelligence. All endued with that wonderful principle, which in man, rising above the office of providing for physical wants, expends its powers on the highest subjects of knowledge, though the final cause of this knowledge is the benefit of himself or his species, while in animals, being more limited in its range, but perhaps more delicate in some of its powers, it may be employed, for aught we know, on important subjects of knowledge, tending to promote their own happiness, of a character so minute and intricate as to be beyond the utmost appreciation of the human mind; but yet as essential to their welfare as the most common principles of philosophy are essential to ours.

There is nothing unnatural in this theory; so far from it, it appears to be suggested by nature itself. We all have a living existence, and that existence to sustain and enjoy. The history of animals and men exhibits so many characteristics in common, and those more powerful characteristics which we have discovered only in men, merely serving to establish endowments stronger in degree, without warranting a fundamental distinction, a scale of intelligence from man to the most inferior animal, appears to result as naturally as a scale of intelligence among men, founded on their different characteristics. It may be said, perhaps, that some of these facts and arguments can be employed as well to prove a moral as an intellectual nature. Admitting this for a moment, it is by no means certain that they have not to some extent a moral sense; although our inquiry has no reference to this branch of the subject. Their endowments, like those of the tribes of Africa, neither improve nor degenerate materially; and who is prepared to say that a Goth or a Hun exhibited a nicer sense of right and wrong than a tiger or an elephant does? We know nothing concerning their secret relations. The order and harmony of the bee-hive, the ant-hill, the families of beavers, and flocks of birds; the apparent recognition by some animals of the right of property; will perhaps ever remain an enigma. Animals, on the other hand, of the same species, oppress each other no more than man does his fellow-man; and those of different species cannot act with greater ferocity toward each other, than they can find an example for in human conduct. We tread upon them without concern, and hunt them down for mere amusement. We prepare them for slaughter with a degree of indifference to their sufferings and death that is shocking in the last extreme. Let us not boast too much of our moral qualities, although the Deity did design that we should subsist in part upon flesh; although we have the marks of this design upon us, the same as the bear and the wolf, and have the sanction of the Scriptures; for although the final cause of this is wise, it is no excuse for cruelty; and probably an enlightened moral sense would teach us to abstain entirely from animal food, if we can live without it. We can no more say that animals were made for our convenience exclusively, than that the hare was made for the lion, or that the Deity would wish man should uproot every other species, than that the tiger should. The simple truth is, we are all alike creatures of the Deity, and subjects of His will. He designed all existence; He bestowed it; and His beneficent protection is extended alike over all His works; from man, the noblest of His creation, to the young ravens, whose cry He has admonished us He deigns to hear.

AQUARIUS.

_October, 1843._

BYZANTIUM.

ROLL on thou Bosphorus, in wrath or play, Roused by the storm, or gilded by the ray; With thy blue billows to the boundless sea Roll on, like Time unto Eternity. Thy empire nought shall change; upon thy breast Guilt hath no record, tyranny no rest; Roll on: the rock-built city shall decay, Man sleep in death, and kingdoms pass away, But thou, unbowed, shalt steal like music by, Or lift thy Titan strength, and dare the sky.

Alas for proud Byzantium! on _her_ head The fire may smoulder and the foe may tread, Yet with heroic look and lovely form She mocks the deep, unconscious of the storm; Her footstool is the shore, which hears the moan Of dying waves; the mountain is her throne; Her princely minarets, whose spires on high Gleam with their crescents in the cloudless sky; Her temples, bathed in all the pomp of day; Her domes, that backward flash the living ray; Her cool kiosks, round which, from granite white, High sparkling fountains catch a rainbow light; And the dark cypress, sombre and o'ercast, Which hints cold sleep, the longest and the last; Each scene around this haughty city throws A mingled charm of action and repose; Each feature speaks of glory wrapt in gloom, The feast, the shroud, the palace, and the tomb.

Yes, thou art fair; but still my soul surveys A vision of delight, and still I gaze, Proud city, on the past; when first the beam Slept on thy temples in its mid-day dream, Methinks the genius of thy father-land Raised his gray head and clenched his withered hand, Exulting, in a parent's pride, to see Old Rome, _without her gods_, revived in thee. Beautiful Queen! unlike thy high compeers, Thou wast not cradled in the lap of years; But, like celestial Pallas, hymned of old, Thy sovereign form, inviolate and bold, Sprung to the perfect zenith of its prime, And took no favor from the hands of Time.

There every glorious gift of every zone Was flung before thee on thy virgin throne: No breeze could blow but unto thee some slave, Some handmaid ship, came riding o'er the wave; The costly treasures of thy marble isle, The spice of Ind, the riches of the Nile, The stores of earth, like streams that seek the sea, Poured out the tribute of their wealth for thee. Oh! proud was thy dominion; states and kings Slept 'neath the shadow of thine outstretched wings; And to the moral eye, how more than fair Were thy peculiar charms, which boasted there No proud pantheon flaming in the sun, To claim for many gods that due to One; No scene of tranquil grove and babbling stream, Of vain philosophy to boast and dream, Till Reason shows a maze without a clue, And Truth seems false, and Falsehood's self seems true. Oh, no! upon thy temples, gladly bright, The truth revealed shed down its living light; Thine was no champion-badge of pagan shame, But that best gift, the Cross of HIM who came To lift the guilty spirit from the sod, To point from earth to heaven, from man to GOD.

Alas! that peace so gentle, hope so fair, Should wake but strife, should herald but despair; Oh, thine, Byzantium, thine were bitter tears, A couch of fever and a throne of fears; When passion drugged the bowl and grasped the steel, When murder followed in the track of zeal; When that religion, born to guide and bless, Itself became perverse and merciless: While factions of the circus and the shrine, And lords like slaves and slaves like lords, were thine. What boots the well-known tale so often told? The feuds that found them frantic left them cold; The crimes that made them wicked made them weak, And bloodless might the Arab spread, and wreak His wasting vengeance; while the soldier slept The spoiler plundered and the province wept: Thus did thine empire sink in slow decay, Thus were its lordly branches lopt away; And thou, exposed and stript, wast left instead To bear the lightning on thy naked head.

Yet wert thou noble still; in vain, in vain The Vandal strove--he could not break his chain; The bold Bulgarian cursed thee as he bled, The Persian trembled, and the pirate fled; Twice did the baffled Arab onward press To drink thy tears of danger and distress; Twice did the fiery Frank usurp thy halls, And twice the Grecian drove him from thy walls: And when at last up sprung thy Tartar foe, With fire and sword more dread than Dandolo, Vain was the task; the triumph was not won Till fraud achieved what treason had begun; Till blood made red thy ramparts and thy waves, And one man's glory left ten thousand graves.

But in that fierce distress, and at thy cry, Did none defend thee, and did none reply? No! kings were deaf, and pontiffs, in their pride, Like Levites gazed, and like them turned aside; While infidels within Sophia's shrine Profaned the cup that held the sacred wine; And, worse than the idolaters of old, Proclaimed that prophet chief, whose books unfold The deadliest faith that ever framed a spell To make of heaven an earth, of earth a hell.

Yet stood there one erect in might and mind, Before him groaned Despair, and Death behind; Oh thou last Cæsar, greater midst thy tears Than all thy laureled and renowned compeers, I see thee yet, I see thee kneeling where The patriarch lifts the cup and breathes the prayer; Now in the tempest of the battle's strife, Where trumpets drown the shrieks of parting life, Now with a thousand wounds upon thy breast I see thee pillow thy calm head in rest; And, like a glory-circled martyr, claim The wings of death to speed thy soul from shame. But thou, fair city! to the Turk bowed down, Didst lose the brightest jewels of thy crown: They could not spoil thee of thy skies, thy sea, Thy mountain belts of strength and majesty; But the bright cross, the volumes rescued long, Sunk 'neath the feet of that barbarian throng; While rose the gorgeous Haram in its sin, So fair without, so deadly foul within: That sepulchre in all except repose, Where woman strikes the lute and plucks the rose, Strives to be gay but feels, despite the will, The heart, the heart is true to nature still. Yet, for a season, did the Moslem's hand Win for thy state an aspect of command; Let Syria, Egypt tell, let Persia's shame, Let haughty Barbarossa's deathless name, Let Buda speak, let Rhodes, whose knighted brave Were weak to serve her, impotent to save: Zeal in the rear and valor in the van Spread far the fiats of thy sage divan, Till stretched the sceptre of thy sway, awhile Victorious, from the Dnieper to the Nile.

Brief, transitory glory, foul the day, Foul thy dishonor, when in Corinth's bay, 'Neath the rich sun triumphant Venice spread Her lion banner as the Moslem fled; When proud Vienna's sallying troops were seen, When Zeuta's laurels decked the brave Eugene; When the great shepherd led the Persian van, And Cyrus lived again in KOULI KHAN; And last and worst, when Freedom spurned the yoke, And tyrants trembled as the GREEK awoke!

Now joy to Greece! the genius of her clime Shall cast its gauntlet at the tyrant Time. And wake again the valor and the fire Which rears the trophy or attunes the lyre. Oh known how early, and beloved how long, The sea-girt shrines of battle and of song, The clustering isles that by the Ocean prest, In sunshine slumber on his dark blue breast: Land of the brave, athwart whose ghastly night Streams the bright dawn, red harbinger of light, May Glory now efface each blot of shame, May Freedom's torch yet light the path to fame; May Christian truth in this, thy second birth, Add strength to empire, give to wisdom worth, And with the rich-fraught hopes of coming years Inspire thy triumphs while it dries thy tears!

Yes, joy to Greece! but even a brighter star On Hope's horizon sheds its light afar: Oh Stamboul! thou who once didst clasp the sign, What if again Sophia's holy shrine Should, deaf to creeds of sensual joy and strife, Reëcho to the words whose gift is life; If down those isles the billowy music's swell Should pour the song of Judah, and should tell Of sinners met in penitence to kneel, And bless the comfort they have learned to feel; Then though thy fortune or thy fame decline, Then oh! how _more_ than victory were thine!

Ah! dear RELIGION, born of HIM who smiled And prayed for pardon when the Jew reviled, No rose-bound Houris with a song of glee Strew the rich couch, no tyrant strikes for thee; Thy holier altar feeds its silent fire With love, not hate--with reason, not desire; Welcome in weal or woe, thy sovereign might Can temper sorrow or enrich delight; Prepared to gild with hope our darkest hours, Or crown the brimming cup of joy with flowers; Thine is the peace-branch, thine the pure command Which joins mankind like brothers hand in hand; And oh! 'tis thine to purge each worldly stain, Wrench the loose links which bind this mortal chain, Whisper of realms untravelled, paths untrod, And lead, like Jacob's ladder, up to GOD!

WILLIAM C. S. BLAIR.

NEMAH AND NUMAN.

TRANSLATED FROM THE TURKISH OF SOHAILY, BY J. P. BROWN, CONSTANTINOPLE.

IN the time of the Sovereigns of the Beni Ommieh, there resided in the city of Cufah a very wealthy merchant named REBI BIN JABIR; a man possessed of great good feelings and kindness of disposition. This merchant had a son of equally good qualities, in whom, as the close of his life drew near, all his hopes became centered. He named this his only child Numan; paid great attention to his education; taught him to read and write; and, in fine, instructed him in all the accomplishments of that period.

Rebi bin Jabir purchased a young white female slave, of angelic beauty, named NEMAH BINTI TEVFIK, whom he had elevated in a manner which should render her worthy to become his son's companion. This _Riski Hoor_, or object of the jealousy of the Houries of Paradise, was a sweet, tender maiden, such as the eye of the world had never seen, nor of whom the ear of the son of Adam ever heard. They grew up and were instructed together; and ere they had reached the age of puberty, these two young creatures, like the sun and moon for pure brilliancy and light, were unique for their knowledge and accomplishments; particularly the talent of music and song. In the garden of Beauty they were like two cypresses.

Their wealthy parent had erected for them a dwelling like those of the garden of Paradise, which he had beautifully painted and furnished, and where his son and the cypress-formed Nemah were wont to spend their evenings in pleasure and enjoyment. One night when he was disposed to make merry with his mistress, Nemah took an _Oad_, or Lute in her hand, and with a countenance blooming with youthful freshness and innocent modesty, sang a harmonious air.

While thus engaged, by chance, the governor of the city of Cufah, the cause of much sorrow, Hedjadj ez Zalim, or The Cruel, passed beneath their dwelling, and hearing the melodious sound of Nemah's voice, involuntarily sighed; and after listening for sometime, turned to his attendants and praised the talent of the singer. 'If,' said he, 'this slave's face and form are equal to the delicacy of her voice, I will give any price for her--for a jewel of such great value. Go, learn to whom she belongs; for I desire to send her as a present to the caliph.' So, calling the chief officer of his police, he confided the affair to that master of intrigue, recommending him to be diligent and expeditious.

This man, early on the following morning, called to his aid a cunning old woman, and said to her: 'Help, oh! mother of praise-worthy conduct! Hedjadj ez Zalim has need of your services. You must inform me to whom a girl in such a dwelling belongs; how I shall be able to get possession of her; and what arrangements I must make to bring it about.'

The infamous old woman replied: 'On my head and eyes be it, if the object of your desires be among the Pleiads, on the surface, or under the earth, be it my duty to find her! So consider her as already in your possession.'

The officer conducted the old wretch to Hedjadj the Cruel, and on introducing her, Hedjadj said: 'Go to the house of Numan, son of Rebieh, and if you find that his slave is worthy of presentation to the caliph, obtain her in whatever manner you may like best, only render yourself worthy of my generosity.'

Now the old woman attired herself in the dress of a sofee, or religious devotee, of an hundred years old; and taking an ebony rod in her hand, wrapped a shawl around her head, and, bent almost double, set out on her way, crying out aloud as she passed along: 'There is no God but ALLAH! oh! these inattentive people!' Deceived by her appearance, the simple-minded who met her on the way, embraced her hands and feet, and implored her blessing and prayers.

At noon, precisely, she reached Numan's dwelling; and on wishing to pass its gate was prevented by the door-keepers. The old hypocrite said to them: 'I am a servant of GOD, who, having deserted the world, have no other desire than to acquire knowledge, and offer up prayers of devotion; why do you prevent my passage?'

While they were yet engaged discussing her entrance, a servant from within made his appearance, and the old woman, addressing him, said: 'Wherever I bend my steps they bring good fortune; and, as every one profits by my prayers, these door-keepers are very foolish to prevent my entrance.'

The simple-minded servant directed the door-keepers not to prevent her; and taking the old wretch by the hand, led her to Nemah, and asked her blessing. Nemah also was soon deceived by her appearance, and beside offering her every mark of respect, invited her to be seated by her side.

Scarcely were they seated, when she exclaimed: 'Let prayer-time be not forgotten; show me a retired spot where I may offer my devotions.' Nemah, like a waving cypress, hastened to serve her; spread her a carpet with her own hands, and ordered her attendants not to disturb her. The old hypocrite prolonged her prayers from noon to _akendee_, (three o'clock,) and the three o'clock prayer to that of night-fall, without ever rising from her carpet; and by her false piety gained not only Nemah's heart, but those of all her maidens; so that they all knelt around her feet, and besought her blessing. Every night she would tell Nemah's maidens stories about pious people, and of the efficacy of their prayers.

Early one morning she arose, and asked permission to depart; and when Numah inquired where she purposed going, she replied, that it was her desire to visit some holy persons who resided in that neighborhood. In fine, she so praised them, that Nemah begged her not to refuse her the privilege of accompanying her, to beg also the blessing of the good people. The old woman answered: 'If the recompense of your visit is written on your brow (predestined), it will be easy to obtain. Inshallah! if GOD wills, we will obtain the object of your desires.'

The unfortunate girl put faith in her words; and after adjusting her dress, they set out on their way. Soon they reached a doorway, that of the palace of Hedjadj ez Zalim, which they entered; and putting Nemah in a vestibule, 'Stay here,' said she, 'while I go to see if the holy man is alone.' So going into the palace, she hastened to give Hedjadj news of her success; and then the accursed creature departed by another door. Hedjadj soon came to the vestibule, and for the first time beholding the beautiful creature, saw a fair maiden resplendent as the moon in her fourteenth night, and illuminating the whole universe with her splendor:

A maiden unequalled for beauty. The world a slave to her ringlet. A fresh rose from the garden of fidelity, And a thousand Philomels are her lovers.

Forthwith he ordered one of his officers to take a sufficient number of men for a guard, and convey the maiden to the residence of the caliph. The officer immediately got ready a litter, and compelling the wretched maiden to enter it, set out for Damascus. Poor Nemah now knew something of the cruel misfortune to which she had become a prey; her suffering and wounded heart (liver) became roasted, and her eyes wept tears of blood, on being thus separated from her lover, country, and home.

In thirty or forty days, they reached Damascus, and entering the palace of the caliph, the officer delivered the letter and maiden from Hedjadj, governor of Cufah. When Abdul Malek (the reigning caliph) saw the lovely, heart-ravishing maiden, he acknowledged her to be a perfect beauty, whom the painter of creation had drawn on the page of existence; such as the eye of observation had never seen, nor of which the ear of the imagination had never heard:

Well made, graceful, delicate, and fresh. Every member full of grace and splendor. Her lips more translucent than limpid water. The stars envious of her pearly teeth: Her moles are most beauteous to the eye; Rose-buds open when she smiles, and Jewels are scattered when she speaks.

Involuntarily the caliph became lost in love with the beautiful creature; passion reached even the centre of his heart; and the thread of power over himself escaped from his hands. Calling his chief eunuch, he ordered him to prepare apartments for her worthy of her beauty; to treat her with kindness, and to be attentive to all her wants.

The caliph Abdul Malek had a sister named Abbassah, a lady of very superior beauty, whom, in his mirth, he addressed, saying: 'Hedjadj has done us a service, which, had he sent me news that he had conquered a province for me, would not have given me greater pleasure. His present is truly worthy of my acceptance.' Abbassah answered her brother: 'May your pleasure be everlasting! Pray what kind of a present has he sent you?' The caliph handed her Hedjadj's letter, wherein she learned that he had purchased for twelve thousand pieces of gold a maiden of exquisite beauty, and offered her for her brother's acceptance. Abbassah asked permission to go and see the maiden, and gain her good-will and friendship; and, on beholding Nemah, she exclaimed that she was indeed an angel in a human form:

With so much beauty, are you a moon from the skies, A new species of unknown humanity? Truly, you merit the gift of hearts. One look alone at your fair face Is worth twelve thousand pieces of gold; And oh! how great is my brother's good fortune!

Now Abbassah's beauty was celebrated all over Syria, but when she became companion to the mirror of Nemah's beauty, the moon appeared eclipsed. This lady of ladies inquired for her health, and complimented her on this great good fortune, which had brought her to be the companion of so grand a sovereign as her brother. But poor Nemah only returned her kindness with a sigh, and addressing her, asked:

'Oh, fair of front! whose sweet words touch my heart, and whose ringlets adorn an angel's face, pray tell me, your hand-maiden, who sold me, for whom I was taken, to whom does this mansion belong, and what is the cause of my affliction?'

Abbassah was greatly astonished at these inquiries, and asked what they meant. 'Do you not know who sold you?--that it was Hedjadj ez Zalim, governor of Cufah, who bought you for twelve thousand pieces of gold, and presented you to the caliph?--that this is the palace of the caliph?--and that I am his sister?'

When poor Nemah heard this, she burst into tears, and wept so profusely as to wound the soul and liver of Abbassah:

The fountain of her tears overflowed; Her liver was like unto tulips, And her tears fell like morning dew.