Chapter 2

XIV.

"A long time missing from thy fondling arms-- It chanced that day thou'dst sent me in the shade New bread, a cake of figs, and wine of palms [FN#10] Mingled with water, sweet with honey made.

"These did I bring--raised as I could, his head; Held to his lip the cup; and while he quaffed, Upon my garment wiped the tears that sped Adown his silvery beard and mingled with the draft.

[FN#10] "The palm is a very common plant in this country, (Assyria,) and generally fruitful; this they cultivate like fig-trees and it produces them bread, wine and honey." See Beloe's notes to his translation of Herodotus. Mr. Gibbon adds, that the diligent natives celebrated, either in verse or prose, three hundred and sixty uses to which the trunk, the branches, the leaves, the juice and the fruit of this plant were applied. Nothing can be more curious and interesting than the natural history of the palm tree.

XV.

"When gaining sudden strength, he raised his hand, And in this guise did bless me, "Mayst thou be A crown to him who weds thee.--In a land Far distant bides a captive. Hearken me

"And choose thee now a bridegroom meet: to day O'er broad Euphrates' steepest banks a child Fled from his youthful nurse's arms; in play Elate, he bent him o'er the brink, and smiled

"To see their fears who followed him--but who The keen wild anguish of that scene can tell-- He bend o'er the brink, and in their view, But ah! too far beyond their aid--he fell.

XVI.

"They wailed--the long torn ringlets of their hair [FN#11] Freighted the pitying gale; deep rolled the stream And swallowed the fair child; no succour there-- They women--whither look--who to redeem

"What the fierce waves were preying on?--when lo! Approached a stranger boy. Aside he flung, As darted thought, his quiver and his bow And parted by his limbs the sparkling billows sung.

[FN#11] The women, I believe, among all nations of antiquity were accustomed to express violent grief by tearing their hair. This must have been a great and affecting sacrifice to the object bemoaned, as they considered it a part of themselves and absolutely essential to their beauty. Fine hair has been a subject of commendation among all people, and particularly the ancients. Cyrus, when he went to visit his uncle Astyages found him with his eyelashes coloured, and decorated with false locks; the first Caesar obtained permission to wear the laurel-wreath in order to conceal the bareness of his temples. The quantity and beauty of the hair of Absalom is commemorated in holy writ. The modern oriental ladies also set the greatest value on their hair which they braid and perfume. Thus says the poet Hafiz, whome Sir William Jones styles the Anacreon of Persia,

"Those locks, each curl of which is worth a hundred musk-bags of China, would be sweet indeed, if their scent proceeded from sweetness of temper."

and again,

"When the breeze shall waft the fragrance of thy locks over the tomb of Hafiz, a thousand flowers shall spring from the earth that hides his corse."

Achilles clipped his yellow locks and threw them as a sacrifice upon the funeral pyre of Patroclus.

XVII.

"They clung to an old palm and watched; nor breath Nor word dared utter; while the refluent flood Left on each countenance the hue of death, Ope'd lip and far strained eye spoke worse than death endured.

XVIII.

"But, down the flood, the dauntless boy appeared,-- Now rising--plunging--in the eddy whirled-- Mastering his course--but now a rock he neared-- And closing o'er his head, the deep, dark waters curled.

"Then Hope groaned forth her last; and drear despair Spoke in a shriek; but ere its echo wild Had ceased to thrill; restored to light and air-- He climbs, he gains the rock, and holds alive the child.

XIX.

"Now mark what chanced--that infant was the son E'vn of the king of Nineveh: and placed Before him was the youth who so had won From death the royal heir. A captive graced

"All o'er with Nature's gifts he sparkled--brave And panting for renown--blushing and praised The stripling stood; and closely prest, would crave Alone a place mid warlike men; and raised

"To his full wish, the kingly presence left, Buoyant and bright with hope; dreaming of nought While revelled his full soul in visions deft, But blessings from his sire and pleasures of a court.

XX.

"But when his mother heard, she wept; and said If he our only child be far away Or slain in war; how shall our years be stayed? Friendless and old, where is the hand to lay

"Our white hairs in the earth?--So when her fears He saw would not be calmed, he did not part, But lived in low estate, to dry her tears, And crushed the full-grown-hopes, exulting at his heart."

XXI.

"The old man ceased; ere I could speak, his face Grew more than mortail fair: a mellow light Mantling around him fill'd the shady place And while I wondering stood; he vanished from my sight.

XXII.

"This I had told,--but shame withheld--and fear Thou'dst deem some spirit guilded me--disapprove-- Perchance forbid my customed wanderings here; But whencesoe'er the vision, I have strove

"Still vainly to forget--I've heard the mourn Kindred afar, and captive--oh! my mother-- Should he--my heaven announced--exist, return-- And meet me drear--lost--wedded to another"--

Then thus Sephora, "In the city where Our kindred distant dwelt--blood has been shed-- Dreamer, had such heroic boy been there, Belike he's numbered with the silent dead.

"Or doth he live he knows not--would not know (Thralled--dead, to thee--in fair Assyrian arms.) Who pines for him afar in fruitless woe A phantom's bride--wasting love, life and charms.

XXIII.

"'Tis as a vine of Galilee should say, Culturer, I reck not thy support, I sigh For a young palm tree, of Euphrates; nay-- Or let me him entwine or in my blossom die.

"Thy heart is set on joys it may not prove, And, panting ingrate, scorns the blessings given?-- Hoping from dust formed man, a seraph's love And days on earth like to the days of heaven.

XXIV.

"But to my theme, maiden, a lord for thee, And not of thee unworthy--I have chose-- Dispel the dread, that in thy looks I see-- Nor make it task of anguish to disclose,

"What should be--thine heart's dew. Remember'st thou When to the Altar, by thy father reared, We suppliant went with sacrifice and vow, A victim-dove escaped? and there appeared

"And would have brought thee others to supply Its loss, a Median?--thou, dissolved, to praise, Didst note the beauty of his shape and eye, And, as he parted, in the sunny rays

"The ringlets of his black locks clustering bright Around his pillar-neck," ''tis pity he' Thou saidst, 'in all the comeliness and might Of perfect man--pity like him, should be

"But an idolater: how nobly sweet He tempereth pride with courtesy; a flower Drops honey when he speaks. Yet 'twere most meet To praise his majesty: he stands--a tower.'

"The same, a false idolater no more, Now bows him to the God, for whose dread ire Fall'n on us loved but sinning, we deplore This long but just captivity. Thy sire

"Receives him well and harkens his request For know, he comes to ask thee-for a bride And to be one among a people, blest Tho' deep in suffering. Nor to him denied

"Art thou, sad daughter--weep--if't be thy will-- E'vn on the breast that nourished thee and ne'er Distrest thee or compelled; this bosom still Ev'n should'st though blight its dearest hopes, will share

"Nay, bear thy pains; but sooner in the grave 'Twill quench my waning years, if reckless thou Of what I not command, but only crave, Let my heart pine regardless of thy vow."

XXV.

She thus, 'O think not, kindest, I forget, Receiving so much love, how much is due From me to thee: the Mede I'll wed--but yet I cannot stay these tears that gush to pain thy view.'

XXVI.

Sephora held her to heart, the while Grief had its way--then saw her gently laid And bade her, kissing her blue eyes, beguile Slumbering the fervid noon. Her leafy bed

Sighed forth o'erpowering breath; increased the heat; Sleepless had been the night; her weary sense Could now no more. Lone in the still retreat, Wounding the flowers to sweetness more intense,

She sank. 'Tis thus, kind Nature lets our woe Swell 'til it bursts forth from the o'erfraught breast; Then draws an opiate from the bitter flow, And lays her sorrowing child soft in the lap to rest.

XXVII.

Now all the mortal maid lies indolent Save one sweet cheek which the cool velvet turf Had touched too rude, tho' all the blooms besprent, One soft arm pillowed. Whiter than the surf

That foams against the sea-rock, looked her neck, By the dark, glossy, odorous shrubs relieved, That close inclining o'er her seemed to reck What 'twas they canopied; and quickly heaved

Beneath her robe's white folds and azure zone, Her heart yet incomposed; a fillet thro' Peeped brightly azure, while with tender moan As if of bliss, Zephyr her ringlets blew

Sportive;--about her neck their gold he twined, Kissed the soft violet on her temples warm, And eye brow--just so dark might well define Its flexile arch;--throne of expression's charm.

XXVIII.

As the vexed Caspian, tho' its rage be past And the blue smiling heavens swell o'er in peace, Shook to the centre, by the recent blast, Heaves on tumultuous still, and hath not power to cease.

So still each little pulse was seen to throb Tho' passion and its pains were lulled to rest, And "even and anon" a pitious sob Shook the pure arch expansive o'er her breast. [FN#12]

[FN#12] This effect is very observable in little children, who for several hours after they have cried themselves to sleep, and sometimes even when a smile is on their lips, are heard, from time to time, to utter sobs.

XXIX.

Save that 'twas all tranquillity; that reigned O'er fragrance sound and beauty; all was mute-- Save when a dove her dear one's absence plained And the faint breeze mourned o'er the slumberer's lute.

XXX.

It chanced, that day, lured by the verdure, came Zophiel, now minister of ill; but ere He sinned, a heavenly angel. The faint flame Of dying embers, on an altar, where

Raguel, fair Egla's sire, in secret vowed And sacrificed to the sole living God, Where friendly shades the sacred rites enshround;--(2) The fiend beheld and knew; his soul was awed,

And he bethought him of the forfeit joys Once his in Heaven;--deep in a darkling grot He sat him down;--the melancholy noise Of leaf and creeping vine accordant with his thought.

XXXI.

When fiercer spirits, howled, he but complained (3) Ere yet 'twas his to roam the pleasant earth, His heaven-invented harp he still retained Tho' tuned to bliss no more; and had its birth

Of him, beneath some black infernal clift The first drear song of woe; and torment wrung The spirit less severe where he might lift His plaining voice--and frame the like as now he sung:

XXXII.

"Woe to thee, wild ambition, I employ Despair's dull notes thy dread effects to tell, Born in high-heaven, her peace thou could'st destroy, And, but for thee, there had not been a hell.

"Thro' the celestial domes thy clarion pealed,-- Angels, entranced, beneath thy banners ranged, And stright were fiends;--hurled from the shrinking field, They waked in agony to wait the change.

"Darting thro' all her veins the subtle fire The world's fair mistress first inhaled thy breath, To lot of higher beings learned to aspire,-- Dared to attempt--and doomed the world to death.

"Thy thousand wild desires, that still torment The fiercely struggling soul, where peace once dwelt, But perished;--feverish hope--drear discontent, Impoisoning all possest--Oh! I have felt

"As spirits feel--yet not for man we mourn Scarce o'er the silly bird in state were he, That builds his nest, loves, sings the morn's return, And sleeps at evening; save by aid of thee,

"Fame ne'er had roused, nor song her records kept The gem, the ore, the marble breathing life, The pencil's colours,--all in earth had slept, Now see them mark with death his victim's strife.

"Man found thee death--but death and dull decay Baffling, by aid of thee, his mastery proves;-- By mighty works he swells his narrow day And reigns, for ages, on the world he loves.

"Yet what the price? with stings that never cease Thou goad'st him on; and when, too keen the smart, He fain would pause awhile--and signs for peace, Food thou wilt have, or tear his victim heart."

XXXIII.

Thus Zophiel still,--"tho' now the infernal crew Had gained by sin a privilege in the world, Allayed their torments in the cool night dew, And by the dim star-light again their wings unfurled."

XXXIV.

And now, regretful of the joys his birth Had promised; deserts, mounts and streams he crost, To find, amid the loveliest spots of earth, Faint likeness of the heaven he had lost.

And oft, by unsuccessful searching pained, Weary he fainted thro' the toilsome hours; And then his mystic nature he sustained On steam of sacrifices--breath of flowers. (4)

XXXV.

Sometimes he gave out oracles, amused With mortal folly; resting on the shrines; Or, all in some fair Sibyl's form infused, Spoke from her quivering lips, or penned her mystic lines. [FN#13]

[FN#13] This passage merely accords with the belief that the responses of the ancient oracles were spoken by fiends, or evil spirits. We need only look into the "New Testament for a confirmation of the power which such beings were supposed to possess of speaking from the lips of mortals."

XXXVI.

And now he wanders on from glade to glade To where more precious shrubs diffuse their balms, And gliding thro' the thick inwoven shade Where the young Hebrew lay in all her charms,

He caught a glimpse. The colours in her face-- Her bare white arms--her lips--her shining hair-- Burst on his view. He would have flown the place; Fearing some faithful angel rested there,

Who'd see him--reft of glory--lost to bliss-- Wandering and miserably panting--fain To glean a scanty joy--with thoughts like this-- Came all he'd known and lost--he writh'd with pain

Ineffable--But what assailed his ear, A sigh?--surprised, another glance he took; Then doubting--fearing--gradual coming near-- He ventured to her side and dared to look;

Whispering, "yes, 'tis of earth! So, new-found life Refreshing, looked sweet Eve, with purpose fell When first sin's sovereign gazed on her, and strife Had with his heart, that grieved with arts of hell,

"Stern as it was, to win her o'er to death!-- Most beautiful of all in earth, in heaven, Oh! could I quaff for aye that fragrant breath Couldst thou, or being likening thee, be given

"To bloom forever for me thus--still true To one dear theme, my full soul flowing o'er, Would find no room for thought of what it knew-- Nor picturing forfeit transport, curse me more. (5)

"But oh! severest pain!--I cannot be In what I love, blest ev'n the little span-- (With all a spirit's keen capacity For bliss) permitted the poor insect man.

XXXVII.

"The few I've seen and deemed of worth to win Like some sweet flowret mildewed, in my arms, Withered to hidiousness--foul ev'n as sin-- Grew fearful hags; and then with potent charm [FN#14]

[FN#14] One of the most striking absurdities in the lately- dispelled superstition of witchcraft, is the extreme hidiousness and misery usually ascribed to such as made use of the agency of evil spirits. I have therefore made it the result of an unforeseen necessity: no female can be supposed to purchase, voluntarily, the power of doing mischief to others at the price of beauty and every thing like happiness on her own part.

"Of muttered word and harmful drug, did learn To force me to their will. Down the damp grave Loathing, I went at Endor, and uptorn Brought back the dead; when tortured Saul did crave,

"To view his pending fate. Fair--nay, as this Young slumberer, that dread witch; when, I arrayed In lovely shape, to meet my guileful kiss She yielded first her lip. And thou, sweet maid-- What is't I see?--a recent tear has strayed And left its stain upon her cheek of bliss.--

XXXVIII.

"She's fall'n to sleep in grief--haply been chid, Or by rude mortal wronged. So let it prove Meet for my purpose: 'mid these blossoms hid, I'll gaze; and when she wakes with all that love

"And art can lend, come forth. He who would gain A fond full heart, in love's soft surgery skilled Should seek it when 'tis sore; allay its pain-- With balm by pity prest 'tis all his own, so healed

XXXIX.

"She may be mine a little year--ev'n fair And sweet as now--Oh! respite! while possest I lose the dismal sense of my despair-- But then--I will not think upon the rest.

"And wherefore grieve to cloud her little day [FN#15] Of fleeting life?--What doom from power divine I bear eternal! thoughts of ruth, away! Wake pretty fly!--and--while thou mayst,--be mine.

"Tho' but an hour--so thou suppli'st thy looms With shining silk, [FN#16] and in the cruel snare See'st the fond bird entrapped, but for his plumes To work thy robes, or twine amidst thy hair."

[FN#15] The ancient Hebrews had no idea of a future state.

[FN#16] I have not been able to discover whether the use of silk was known at so early a period. It is said to have been sold in Rome for its weight in gold, and was considered so luxurious an article that it was considered infamous for a man to appear drest in it. The Roman Pausanias says that it came from the country of the Seres, a people of Asiatic Scythia.

XL.

To wisper softly in her ear he bent, But draws him back restrained: A higher power That loved to watch o'er slumbering innocent, Repelled his evil touch; and, from her bower

To lead the maid, Sephora comes; the sprite Half baffled, followed--hovering on unseen-- Till Meles, fair to see and nobly dight, Received his pensive bride. Gentle of mien

She meekly stood. He fastened round her arm Rings of refulgent ore; low and apart Murmuring, "so beauteous captive, shall thy charms Forever thrall and clasp thy captive's heart."

The air breathed softer, as she slowly moved In languid resignation: his quick eye Spoke in black glances how she was approved, Who shrunk reluctant from its ardency.

XLI.

'Twas sweet to look upon the goodly pair In their contrasted loveliness: her height Might almost vie with his; but heavenly fair, Of soft proportion she, and sunny hair He cast in manliest mould with ringlets murk as night.

XLII.

All art could give with Nature's charms was blent, His gorgeous country shone in his attire, And as he moved with tread magnificent She could but look and looking must admire.

XLIII.

And oft her drooping and resigned blue eye She'd wistful raise to read his radiant face, But then--why shrank her heart? a secret sigh Told her it most required what there it could not trace.

XLIV.

Now fair had fall'n the night. The damsel mused At her own window, in the pearly ray Of the full moon; her thoughtful soul infused Thus in her words; left 'lone awhile, to pray.

XLV.

"What bliss for her who lives her little day, In blest obedience; like to those divine Who to her loved, her earthly lord, can say 'God is thy law,' most just 'and _thou_ art mine.'

"To every blast she bends in beauty meek-- How can she shrink--his arms her shelter kind?-- And feels no need to blanch her rosy cheek With thoughts befitting his superior mind.

"Who only sorrows when she sees him pained, Then knows to pluck away pain's fiercest dart; Or, love arresting, ere its gaol is gained Steal half its venom ere it reach his heart.

"'Tis the soul's food--the fervid must adore-- For this the heathen, insufficed with thought Moulds him an idol of the glittering ore Or shines his smiling goddess, marble-wrought.

"What bliss for her--e'en on this world of woe Oh! sire who mak'st yon orb-strown arch thy throne,-- That sees thee, in thy nobles work below, Shine undefaced!--and calls that work her own!

"This I had hoped: but hope too dear, too great-- Go to thy grave! I feel thee blasted, now-- Give me, fate's sovereign, well to bear the fate Thy pleasure sends--this, my sole prayer, allow."

XLVI.

Still, fixed on heaven, her earnest eye, all dew, Seemed as it sought amid the lamps of night For him her soul addressed; but other view Far different--sudden from that pensive plight

Recalled her: quick as on primeval gloom Burst the new day-star, when the Eternal bid, Appeared, and glowing filled the dusky room, As 'twere a brillant cloud; the form it hid

Modest emerged, as might a youth beseem; Save a slight scarf, his beauty bare, and white As cygnet's bosom on some silver stream; Or young narcissus, when to woo the light

Of its _first_ morn, that flowret open springs;-- And near the maid he comes with timid gaze And gently fans her, with his full spread wings Transparent as the cooling gush that plays

From ivory fount. Each bright prismatic tint Still vanishing, returning, blending, changing, Glowed, from their fibrous mystic texture glint, Like colours o'er the full-blown bubble ranging

That pretty urchins launch upon the air And laugh to see it vanish; yet, so bright, More like--and even that were faint compare, As shaped from some new rain-bow; rosy light

Like that which pagans say the dewy car Precedes of their Aurora, clipp'd him round Retiring as he mov'd; and evening's star Shamed not the diamond coronal that bound

His curly locks. And still to teach his face Expression dear to her he wooed he sought; And, in his hand, he held a little vase Of virgin gold in strange devices wrought.

XLVII.

Love toned he spoke, "Fair sister, [FN#17] art thou here With pensive looks, so near thy bridal bed, Fixed on the pale cold moon? Nay! do not fear-- To do thee weal o'er mount and stream I've sped.

[FN#17] Sister, was an affectionate appellation, used by the Jews towards all women.

XLVIII.

"Say, doth thy soul in all its sweet excess Rush to this bridegroom, smooth and falsehood-taught. Ah, now! thou yield'st thee to a loathed caress-- While thy heart tells thee loud it owns him not.

XLIX.

"Hadst thou but seen, on Tigris' banks, this morn Wasting her wild complaints, a wretched maid, Stung with her wrongs--lone--beauty-reft--forlorn-- And learned 'twas ev'n thy Meles who betrayed,

"Well hadst thou then shrunk to return his love But wherefore now, on theme of sorrow bide?-- What would thy beauty? here I wait--nay, prove A spirit's power, nor be my boon denied!

"I'll tell thee secrets of the neither earth And highest heaven--or dost some service crave? Declare thy bidding, best of mortal birth, I'll be thy winged messenger, thy slave." (7)

L.

Then softly Egla, "Lovely being tell-- In pity to the grief thy lips betray The knowledge of--say with some kindly spell Dost come from heaven, to charm my pains away?

"Alas! what know'st thou of my plighted lord? If guilt pollute him, as unless mine ear Deceive me in the purport of thy word, Thou mean'st t' imply--kind spirit rest not here

"But to my father hasten and make known The fearful truth: my doom is his command; Writ in heaven's book, I guard the oath I've sworn Unless he will to blot it by thine hand."

LI.

"Thy plight to Meles little need avail." Zophiel replies: "ere morn, if't be thy will To Lybian deserts he shall howl his tale I'll hurl him, at thy word, o'er forest, sea and hill.

LII.

"By all the frauds, which forged in his black breast, Come forth so white and silvery from his tongue, My potency he soon shall prove; nor rest To banquet on the blood of hearts by him unstrung,

"And reft of all their music. Every pain By him inflicted for his own vile joys Rend his vile self! fruition not again Shall crown such arts as now the slave employs!

"But sooth thee, maiden, be thy soul at peace; Mine be the care to hasten to thy sire And null thy vow: let every terror cease: Perfect success attends thy least desire."

LIII.

Then lowly bending with seraphic grace The vase he proffered full; and not a gem Drawn forth successive from its sparkling place But put to shame the Persian diadem.

LIV.