The Priests begin their song, the song of praise,
The hymn of glory to their Devil-God.
Then Maimuna grew pale, as thro the bars
She saw the Martyr pendant by the feet,
His gold locks hanging downwards, and she cried,
“This is my Sister’s deed!
“O Thalaba, for us,
“Not for his faith the red-haired Christian dies.
“She wants the foam that in his agony,
“Last from his lips shall fall,
“The deadliest poison that the Devils know.
“Son of Hodeirah, thou and I
“Shall prove its deadly force!”
And lo! the Executioners begin
And beat his belly with alternate blows.
And these are human that look on;...
The very women that would shrink
And shudder if they saw a worm
Crushed by the careless tread,
They clap their hands for joy
And lift their children up
To see the Christian die.
Convulsing Nature with her tortures drunk
Ceases to suffer now.
His eye-lids tremble, his lips quake,
But like the quivering of a severed limb
Move no responsive pang.
Now catch the exquisite poison! for it froths
His dying lips,... and Khawla holds the bowl.
Enough the Island crimes had cried to Heaven,
The measure of their guilt was full,
The hour of wrath was come.
The poison burst the bowl,
It fell upon the earth.
The Sorceress shrieked and caught Mohareb’s robe
And called the whirlwind and away!
For lo! from that accursed venom springs,
The Upas Tree of Death.
THALABA THE DESTROYER. BOOK X.
Alone, beside a rivulet it stands
The Upas Tree of Death.
Thro’ barren banks the barren waters flow,
The fish that meets them in the unmingling sea
Floats poisoned on the waves.
Tree grows not near, nor bush, nor flower, nor herb,
The Earth has lost its parent powers of life
And the fresh dew of Heaven that there descends,
Steams in rank poison up.
Before the appointed Youth and Maimuna
Saw the first struggle of the dying throng,
Crash sunk their prison wall!
The whirlwind wrapt them round;
Borne in the Chariot of the Winds
Ere there was time to fear, their way was past,
And lo! again they stand
In the cave-dwelling of the blue-eyed Witch.
Then came the weakness of her natural age
At once on Maimuna;
The burthen of her years
Fell on her, and she knew
That her repentance in the sight of God
Had 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 hope
Lit a last lustre, and in death
The smile was on her cheek.
No faithful 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 raised by the way side
Implored the passing traveller
To 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 began
His weary way of solitude.
The breath of the East is in his face
And 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 with the snow,
His very heart is cold,
His spirit chilled within him. He looks on
If 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 dull
With 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 sleep
The 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-tree
That woke him from the deadly drowsiness;
Its broad, round-spreading branches when they felt
The 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 Thalaba
Is 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 light
Not 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 air
Felt mild and fragrant, as the evening wind
Passing in summer o’er the coffee-groves
Of Yemen and its blessed bowers of balm.
A Fount of Fire that in the centre played,
Rolled all around its wonderous rivulets
And fed the garden with the heat of life.
Every where magic! the Arabian’s heart
Yearned 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 him
With pleased and wondering look,
Fearlessly, like a yearling child
Too ignorant to fear.
With words of courtesy
The young intruder spake.
At the sound of his voice a joy
Kindled 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 awhile
And 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 think
Sorrow and toil could so have altered me,
That I seem otherwise.
LAILA.
And thou canst be warm<
br />
Sometimes? life-warm as I am?
THALABA.
Surely Lady
As others are, I am, to heat and cold
Subject like all, you see a Traveller,
Bound upon hard adventure, who requests
Only to rest him here to-night, to-morrow
He 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 around
Is everlasting winter, ice and snow,
Deserts unpassable of endless frost.
THALABA.
He who has led me here will still sustain me
Thro’ cold and hunger.
“Hunger?” Laila cried;
She clapt her lilly hands,
And whether from above or from below
It came, sight could not see,
So suddenly the floor was spread with food.
LAILA.
Why dost thou watch with hesitating eyes
The banquet? ’tis for thee! I bade it come.
THALABA.
Whence came it?
LAILA.
Matters it from whence it came
My father sent it: when I call, he hears.
Nay... thou hast fabled with me! and art like
The forms that wait upon my solitude,
Human to eye alone;... thy hunger would not
Question so idly else.
THALABA.
I will not eat!
It came by magic! fool to think that aught
But 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 thee
With fraud and danger! in the wilderness
They shall avenge me,... in the hour of want
Rise on thy view, and make thee feel
How innocent I am:
And this remembered cowardice and insult
With a more painful shame will burn thy cheek
Than now beats mine in anger!
THALABA.
Mark me Lady!
Many and restless are my enemies;
My daily paths have been beset with snares
Till I have learnt suspicion, bitter sufferings
Teaching 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 names
That rule the Genii and the Elements,
But never these.
THALABA.
How! never heard the names
Of God and of the Prophet?
LAILA.
Never... nay now
Again that troubled eye? thou art a strange man
And wonderous fearful... but I must not twice
Be charged with fraud! if thou suspectest still,
Depart and leave me!
THALABA.
And you do not know
The God that made you?
LAILA.
Made me, man! my Father
Made me. He made this dwelling, and the grove,
And yonder fountain-fire, and every morn
He visits me, and takes the snow, and moulds
Women and men, like thee; and breathes into them
Motion, and life, and sense,... but to the touch
They are chilling cold, and ever when night closes
They melt away again, and leave me here
Alone and sad. Oh then how I rejoice
When 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 snow
That I might melt away, and cease to be.
THALABA.
And have you always had your dwelling here
Amid this solitude of snow?
LAILA.
I think so.
I can remember with unsteady feet
Tottering from room to room, and finding pleasure
In flowers and toys and sweetmeats, things that long
Have lost their power to please; that when I see them
Raise only now a melancholy wish
I were the little trifler once again
That could be pleased so lightly!
THALABA.
Then you know not
Your Father’s art?
LAILA.
No. I besought him once
To give me power like his, that where he went
I 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 far
From all the ways of humankind?
LAILA.
’Twas fear,
Fatherly fear and love. He read the stars
And 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 depth
Of 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 enemy
Should come, I have a guardian here.
THALABA.
A guardian?
LAILA.
’Twas well that when my sight unclosed upon thee
There 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 brow
And lifted lightnings?
THALABA.
Lead me to him, Lady!
She took him by the hand
And thro’ the porch they past.
Over the garden and the grove
The fountain streams of fire
Poured a broad light like noon.
A broad unnatural light
That made the Rose’s blush of beauty pale,
And dimmed the rich Geranium’s scarlet blaze.
The various verdure of the grove
Now 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 eye
Turned 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 seems
To 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 solitude
That made my misery here,...
And now that I can see a human face,
And hear a human voice....
Oh no! th
ou wilt not leave me!
THALABA.
Alas I must not rest!
The star that ruled at my nativity
Shone with a strange and blasting influence.
O gentle Lady! I should draw upon you
A killing curse.
LAILA.
But I will ask my Father
To save you from all danger, and you know not
The wonders he can work, and when I ask
It is not in his power to say me nay.
Perhaps thou knowest the happiness it is
To have a tender father?
THALABA.
He was one
Whom like a loathsome leper I have tainted
With my contagious destiny. At evening
He kist me as he wont, and laid his hands
Upon my head, and blest me ere I slept.
His dying groan awoke me, for the Murderer
Had stolen upon our sleep! for me was meant
The 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 saved
To remember and revenge.
She answered not, for now
Emerging from the o’er-arched avenue
The finger of her upraised hand
Marked where the Guardian of the garden stood.
It was a brazen Image, every limb
And swelling vein and muscle, true to life:
The left knee bending on,
The other straight, firm planted, and his hand
Lifted on high to hurl
The 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,
Complete Poetical Works of Robert Southey Page 109