Is placed beyond its reach.... They who repair
To Babylon, and from the Angels learn
Mysterious wisdom, sin not in the deed.
THALABA.
Know you these secrets?
LOBABA.
I? alas my Son
My age just knows enough to understand
How little all its knowledge! later years
Sacred to study, teach me to regret
Youth’s unforeseeing indolence, and hours
That cannot be recalled! something I know:
The properties of herbs, and have sometimes
Brought to the afflicted comfort and relief
By the secrets of my art; under His blessing
Without whom all had failed! Also of Gems
I have some knowledge, and the characters
That tell beneath what aspect they were set.
THALABA.
Belike you can interpret then the graving
Around this Ring?
LOBABA.
My sight is feeble, Son,
And I must view it closer, let me try!
The unsuspecting Youth
Held forth his linger to draw off the spell.
Even whilst he held it forth,
There settled there a Wasp,
And just above the Gem infixed its dart.
All purple swoln the hot and painful flesh
Rose round the tightened Ring.
The baffled Sorcerer knew the hand of Heaven,
And inwardly blasphemed.
Ere long Lobaba’s heart,
Fruitful in wiles, devised new stratagem.
A mist arose at noon;
Like the loose hanging skirts
Of some low cloud that, by the breeze impelled,
Sweeps o’er the mountain side.
With joy the thoughtless youth
That grateful shadowing hailed;
For grateful was the shade,
While thro’ the silver-lighted haze
Guiding their way, appeared the beamless Sun.
But soon that beacon failed;
A heavier mass of cloud
Impenetrably deep,
Hung o’er the wilderness.
“Knowest thou the track?” quoth Thalaba,
“Or should we pause, and wait the wind
“To scatter this bewildering fog?”
The Sorcerer answered him
“Now let us hold right on,... for if we stray
“The Sun tomorrow will direct our course.”
So saying, he towards the desert depths
Misleads the youth deceived.
Earlier the night came on,
Nor moon, nor stars, were visible in Heaven;
And when at morn the youth unclosed his eyes
He knew not where to turn his face in prayer.
“What shall we do?” Lobaba cried,
“The lights of Heaven have ceased
“To guide us on our way.
“Should we remain and wait
“More favourable skies?
“Soon would our food and water fail us here!
“And if we venture on,
“There are the dangers of the wilderness!”
“Sure it were best proceed!”
The chosen youth replies.
“So haply we may reach some tent, or grove
“Of dates, or stationed tribe.
“But idly to remain
“Were yielding effortless, and waiting death.”
The wily Sorcerer willingly assents,
And farther in the sands,
Elate of heart, he leads the credulous youth.
Still o’er the wilderness
Settled the moveless mist.
The timid Antelope that heard their steps
Stood doubtful where to turn in that dim light,
The Ostrich, blindly hastening, met them full.
At night again in hope,
Young Thalaba laid down;
The morning came, and not one guiding ray
Thro’ the thick mist was visible,
The same deep moveless mist that mantled all.
Oh for the Vulture’s scream
That haunts for prey the abode of humankind!
Oh for the Plover’s pleasant cry
To tell of water near!
Oh for the Camel-driver’s song!
For now the water-skin grows light,
Tho’ of the draught, more eagerly desired,
Imperious prudence took with sparing thirst.
Oft from the third night’s broken sleep,
As in his dreams he heard
The sound of rushing winds,
Started the anxious youth, and looked abroad,
In vain! for still the deadly calm endured.
Another day past on,
The water-skin was drained,
But then one hope arrived
For there was motion in the air!
The sound of the wind arose anon
That scattered the thick mist,
And lo! at length the lovely face of Heaven!
Alas... a wretched scene
Was opened on their view.
They looked around, no wells were near,
No tent, no human aid!
Flat on the Camel lay the water-skin,
And their dumb servant difficultly now,
Over hot sands and under the hot sun,
Dragged on with patient pain.
But oh the joy! the blessed sight!
When in the burning waste the Travellers
Saw a green meadow, fair with flowers besprent,
Azure and yellow, like the beautiful fields
Of England, when amid the growing grass
The blue-bell bends, the golden king-cup shines,
In the merry month of May!
Oh joy! the Travellers
Gaze on each other with hope-brightened eyes,
For sure thro’ that green meadow flows
The living stream! and lo! their famished beast
Sees the restoring sight!
Hope gives his feeble limbs a sudden strength,
He hurries on!
The herbs so fair to eye
Were Senna, and the Gentian’s blossom blue,
And kindred plants that with unwatered root
Fed in the burning sand, whose bitter leaves
Even frantic Famine loathed.
In uncommunicating misery
Silent they stood. At length Lobaba cried,
“Son we must slay the Camel, or we die
“For lack of water! thy young hand is firm,
“Draw forth the knife and pierce him!”
Wretch accurst,
Who that beheld thy venerable face,
Thy features fixed with suffering, the dry lips,
The feverish eyes, could deem that all within
Was magic ease, and fearlessness secure,
And wiles of hellish import? the young man
Paused with reluctant pity: but he saw
His comrade’s red and painful countenance,
And his own burning breath came short and quick,
And at his feet the gasping beast
Lies, over-worn with want.
Then from his girdle Thalaba took the knife
With stern compassion, and from side to side
Across the Camel’s throat,
Drew deep the crooked blade.
Servant of man, that merciful deed
For ever ends thy suffering, but what doom
Waits thy deliverer! “little will thy death
“Avail us!” thought the youth,
As in the water-skin he poured
The Camel’s hoarded draught:
It gave a scant supply,
The poor allowance of one prudent day.
Son of Hodeirah, tho’ thy steady soul
Despaired not, firm in faith,
Yet not the less did suffering Nature feel
<
br /> Her pangs and trials, long their craving thirst
Struggled with fear, by fear itself inflamed;
But drop by drop, that poor,
That last supply is drained!
Still the same burning sun! no cloud in heaven!
The hot air quivers, and the sultry mist
Floats o’er the desert, with a show
Of distant waters, mocking their distress!
The youth’s parched lips were black,
His tongue was dry and rough,
His eye-balls red with heat.
His comrade gazed on him with looks
That seemed to speak of pity, and he said
“Let me behold thy Ring,
“It may have virtue that can save us yet!”
With that he took his hand
And viewed the writing close,
Then cried with sudden joy
“It is a stone that whoso bears
“The Genii must obey!
“Now raise thy voice, my Son,
“And bid them in his name that here is written
“Preserve us in our need.”
“Nay!” answered Thalaba,
“Shall I distrust the providence of God?
“Is it not He must save?
“If Allah wills it not
“Vain were the Genii’s aid.”
Whilst he spake Lobaba’s eye
Full on the distance fixed,
Attended not his speech.
Its fearful meaning drew
The looks of Thalaba.
Columns of sand came moving on,
Red in the burning ray
Like obelisks of fire
They rushed before the driving wind.
Vain were all thoughts of flight!
They had not hoped escape
Could they have backed the Dromedary then
Who in his rapid race
Gives to the tranquil air, a drowning force.
High... high in heaven upcurled
The dreadful columns moved,
Swift, as the whirlwind that impelled their way,
They rushed towards the Travellers!
The old Magician shrieked,
And lo! the foremost bursts,
Before the whirlwind’s force,
Scattering afar a burning shower of sand.
“Now by the virtue of the Ring
“Save us!” Lobaba cried.
“While yet thou hast the power
“Save us. O save us! now!”
The youth made no reply,
Gazing in aweful wonder on the scene.
“Why dost thou wait?” the Old Man exclaimed,
“If Allah and the Prophet will not save
“Call on the Powers that will!”
“Ha! do I know thee, Infidel accurst?”
Exclaimed the awakened youth.
“And thou hast led me hither, Child of Sin!
“That fear might make me sell
“My soul to endless death!”
“Fool that thou art!” Lobaba cried,
“Call upon him whose name
“Thy charmed signet bears,
“Or die the death thy foolishness deserves!”
“Servant of Hell! die thou!” quoth Thalaba.
And leaning on his bow
He fitted the loose string,
And laid the arrow in its resting-place.
“Bow of my Father, do thy duty now!”
He drew the arrow to its point,
True to his eye it fled,
And full upon the breast
It smote the wizard man.
Astonished Thalaba beheld
The blunted point recoil.
A proud and bitter smile
Wrinkled Lobaba’s cheek,
“Try once again thine earthly arms!” he cried.
“Rash Boy! the Power I serve
“Abandons not his votaries.
“It is for Allah’s wretched slaves, like thou,
“To serve a master, who in the hour of need
“Forsakes them to their fate!
“I leave thee!”... and he shook his staff, and called
The Chariot of his Charms.
Swift as the viewless wind,
Self-moved, the Chariot came,
The Sorcerer mounts the seat.
“Yet once more weigh thy danger!” he exclaimed,
“Ascend the car with me,
“And with the speed of thought
“We pass the desert bounds.”
The indignant youth vouchsafed not to reply,
And lo! the magic car begins its course!
Hark! hark!... he screams.... Lobaba screams!
What wretch, and hast thou raised
The rushing Terrors of the Wilderness
To fall on thine own head?
Death! death! inevitable death!
Driven by the breath of God
A column of the Desert met his way.
THALABA THE DESTROYER. BOOK V.
When Thalaba from adoration rose,
The air was cool, the sky
With welcome clouds o’ercast,
That soon came down in rain.
He lifted up his fevered face to heaven,
And bared his head and stretched his hands
To that delightful shower,
And felt the coolness flow thro’ every limb
Freshening his powers of life.
A loud quick panting! Thalaba looks up,
He starts, and his instinctive hand
Grasps the knife hilt: for close beside
A Tyger passes him.
An indolent and languid eye
The passing Tyger turned;
His head was hanging down,
His dry tongue lolling low,
And the short panting of his fevered breath
Came thro’ his hot parched nostrils painfully.
The young Arabian knew
The purport of his hurried pace,
And following him in hope
Saw joyful from afar
The Tyger stoop and drink.
The desert Pelican had built her nest
In that deep solitude.
And now returned from distant flight
Fraught with the river stream,
Her load of water had disburthened there.
Her young in the refreshing bath
Sported all wantonness;
Dipt down their callow heads,
Filled the swoln membrane from their plumeless throat
Pendant, and bills yet soft,
And buoyant with arched breast,
Plied in unpractised stroke
The oars of their broad feet.
They, as the spotted prowler of the wild
Laps the cool wave, around their mother croud,
And nestle underneath her outspread wings.
The spotted prowler of the wild
Lapt the cool wave, and satiate from the nest,
Guiltless of blood, withdrew.
The mother bird had moved not
But cowering o’er her nestlings,
Sate confident and fearless,
And watched the wonted guest.
But when the human visitant approached,
The alarmed Pelican
Retiring from that hostile shape,
Gathers her young, and menaces with wings,
And forward thrusts her threatening neck,
Its feathers ruffling in her wrath,
Bold with maternal fear.
Thalaba drank and in the water-skin
Hoarded the precious element.
Not all he took, but in the large nest left
Store that sufficed for life.
And journeying onward blest the Carrier Bird,
And blest in thankfulness,
Their common Father, provident for all.
With strength renewed and confident in faith
The son of Hodeirah proceeds;
Till aft
er the long toil of many a day,
At length Bagdad appeared,
The City of his search.
He hastening to the gate
Roams o’er the city with insatiate eyes,
Its thousand dwellings o’er whose level roofs
Fair cupolas appeared, and high-domed mosques
And pointed minarets, and cypress groves
Every where scattered in unwithering green.
Thou too art fallen, Bagdad! City of Peace,
Thou too hast had thy day!
And loathsome Ignorance and brute Servitude
Pollute thy dwellings now,
Erst for the Mighty and the Wise renowned.
O yet illustrious for remembered fame,
Thy founder the Victorious, and the pomp
Of Haroun, for whose name by blood defiled,
Jahia’s, and the blameless Barmecides’,
Genius hath wrought salvation; and the years
When Science with the good Al-Maimon dwelt;
So one day may the Crescent from thy Mosques
Be plucked by Wisdom, when the enlightened arm
Of Europe conquers to redeem the East.
Then Pomp and Pleasure dwelt within her walls
The Merchants of the East and of the West
Met in her arched Bazars;
All day the active poor
Showered a cool comfort o’er her thronging streets;
Labour was busy in her looms;
Thro’ all her open gates
Long troops of laden Camels lined her roads,
And Tigris on his tameless current bore
Armenian harvests to her multitudes.
But not in sumptuous Caravansary
The adventurer idles there,
Nor satiates wonder with her pomp and wealth;
A long day’s distance from the walls
Stands ruined Babylon!
The time of action is at hand,
The hope that for so many a year
Hath been his daily thought, his nightly dream,
Stings to more restlessness.
He loathes all lingering that delays the hour
When, full of glory, from his quest returned,
He on the pillar of the Tent beloved
Shall hang Hodeirah’s sword.
The many-coloured domes
Yet wore one dusky hue,
The Cranes upon the Mosque
Kept their night-clatter still,
When thro’ the gate the early Traveller past.
And when at evening o’er the swampy plain
The Bittern’s Boom came far,
Complete Poetical Works of Robert Southey Page 102