The scattered fire recoiled.
Like the flowing of a summer gale he felt
Its ineffectual force,
His countenance was not changed,
Nor a hair of his head was singed.
He started and his glance
Turned angrily upon the Maid,
The sight disarmed suspicion... breathless, pale,
Against a tree she stood.
Her wan lips quivering, and her eye
Upraised, in silent supplicating fear.
She started with a scream of joy
Seeing her Father there,
And ran and threw her arms around his neck,
“Save me!” she cried, “the Enemy is come!
“Save me! save me! Okba!”
“Okba!” repeats the youth,
For never since that hour
When in the Tent the Spirit told his name,
Had Thalaba let slip
The memory of his Father’s murderer;
“Okba!”... and in his hand
He graspt an arrow-shaft.
And he rushed on to strike him.
“Son of Hodeirah!” the Old Man replied,
“My hour is not yet come.”
And putting forth his hand
Gently he repelled the Youth.
“My hour is not yet come!
“But thou mayest shed this innocent Maiden’s blood,
“That vengeance God allows thee.”
Around her Father’s neck
Still Laila’s hands were clasped.
Her face was turned to Thalaba,
A broad light floated o’er its marble paleness,
As the wind waved the fountain fire.
Her large, dilated eye in horror raised
Watched his every movement.
“Not upon her,” said he,
“Not upon her Hodeirah’s blood cries out
“For vengeance!” and again his lifted arm
Threatened the Sorcerer,
Again withheld it felt
The barrier that no human strength could burst.
“Thou dost not aim the blow more eagerly,”
Okba replied, “than I would rush to meet it!
“But that were poor revenge.
“O Thalaba, thy God
“Wreaks on the innocent head
“His vengeance;... I must suffer in my child!
“Why dost thou pause to strike thy victim? Allah
“Permits, commands the deed.”
“Liar!” quoth Thalaba.
And Laila’s wondering eye
Looked up, all anguish to her Father’s face,
“By Allah and the Prophet,” he replied,
“I speak the words of truth.
“Misery, misery,
“That I must beg mine enemy to speed
“The inevitable vengeance now so near!
“I read it in her horoscope,
“Her birth-star warned me of Hodeirah’s race.
“I laid a spell, and called a Spirit up.
“He answered one must die
“Laila or Thalaba....
“Accursed Spirit! even in truth
“Giving a lying hope!
“Last, I ascended the seventh Heaven
“And on the everlasting Table there
“In characters of light,
“I read her written doom.
“The years that it has gnawn me! and the load
“Of sin that it has laid upon my soul!
“Curse on this hand that in the only hour
“The favouring stars allowed
“Reeked with other blood than thine.
“Still dost thou stand and gaze incredulous?
“Young man, be merciful, and keep her not
“Longer in agony!”
Thalaba’s unbelieving frown
Scowled on the Sorcerer,
When in the air the rush of wings was heard
And Azrael stood among them.
In equal terror at the sight
The Enchanter, the Destroyer stood,
And Laila, the victim maid.
“Son of Hodeirah!” said the Angel of Death,
“The accursed fables not.
“When from the Eternal Hand I took
“The yearly scroll of fate,
“Her name was written there.
“This is the hour, and from thy hands
“Commissioned to receive the Maid I come.”
“Hear me O Angel!” Thalaba replied,
“To avenge my Father’s death,
“To work the will of Heaven,
“To root from earth the accursed sorcerer race,
“I have dared danger undismayed,
“I have lost all my soul held dear,
“I am cut off from all the ties of life,
“Unmurmuring; for whate’er awaits me still,
“Pursuing to the end the enterprize,
“Peril or pain, I bear a ready heart.
“But strike this Maid! this innocent!
“Angel, I dare not do it.”
“Remember,” answered Azrael, “all thou sayest
“Is written down for judgement! every word
“In the balance of thy trial must be weighed!”
“So be it!” said the Youth.
“He who can read the secrets of the heart
“Will judge with righteousness!
“This is no doubtful path,
“The voice of God within me cannot lie....
“I will not harm the innocent.”
He said, and from above,
As tho’ it were the Voice of Night,
The startling answer came.
“Son of Hodeirah, think again!
“One must depart from hence,
“Laila, or Thalaba;
“She dies for thee, or thou for her,
“It must be life for life!
“Son of Hodeirah, weigh it well,
“While yet the choice is thine!”
He hesitated not,
But looking upward spread his hands to Heaven,
“Oneiza, in thy bower of Paradise
“Receive me, still unstained!”
“What!” exclaimed Okba, “darest thou disobey,
“Abandoning all claim
“To Allah’s longer aid?”
The eager exultation of his speech
Earthward recalled the thoughts of Thalaba.
“And dost thou triumph, Murderer? dost thou deem
“Because I perish, that the unsleeping lids
“Of Justice shall be closed upon thy crime?
“Poor, miserable man! that thou canst live
“With such beast-blindness in the present joy
“When o’er thy head the sword of God
“Hangs for the certain stroke!”
“Servant of Allah, thou hast disobeyed,
“God hath abandoned thee,
“This hour is mine!” cried Okba,
And shook his Daughter off,
And drew the dagger from his vest.
And aimed the deadly blow.
All was accomplished. Laila rushed between
To save the saviour Youth.
She met the blow and sunk into his arms,
And Azrael from the hands of Thalaba
Received her parting soul.
THALABA THE DESTROYER. BOOK XI.
O fool to think thy human hand
Could check the chariot-wheels of Destiny
To dream of weakness in the all-knowing Mind
That his decrees should change!
To hope that the united Powers
Of Earth, and Air, and Hell,
Might blot one letter from the Book of Fate,
Might break one link of the eternal chain!
Thou miserable, wicked, poor old man,
Fall now upon the body of thy child,
Beat now thy breast, and pluck the bleeding hairs
; From thy grey beard, and lay
Thine ineffectual hand to close her wound.
And call on Hell to aid,
And call on Heaven to send
Its merciful thunderbolt!
The young Arabian silently
Beheld his frantic grief.
The presence of the hated youth
To raging anguish stung
The wretched Sorcerer.
“Aye! look and triumph!” he exclaimed,
“This is the justice of thy God!
“A righteous God is he, to let
“His vengeance fall upon the innocent head!
“Curse thee, curse thee, Thalaba!”
All feelings of revenge
Had left Hodeirah’s son.
Pitying and silently he heard
The victim of his own iniquities,
Not with the busy hand
Of Consolation, fretting the sore wound
He could not hope to heal.
So as the Servant of the Prophet stood,
With sudden motion the night air
Gently fanned his cheek.
’Twas a Green Bird whose wings
Had waved the quiet air.
On the hand of Thalaba
The Green Bird perched, and turned
A mild eye up, as if to win
The Adventurer’s confidence.
Then springing on flew forward,
And now again returns
To court him to the way;
And now his hand perceives
Her rosy feet press firmer, as she leaps
Upon the wing again.
Obedient to the call,
By the pale moonlight Thalaba pursued
O’er trackless snows his way;
Unknowing he what blessed messenger
Had come to guide his steps,
That Laila’s Spirit went before his path.
Brought up in darkness and the child of sin,
Yet as the meed of spotless innocence,
Just Heaven permitted her by one good deed
To work her own redemption, after death;
So till the judgement day
She might abide in bliss,
Green warbler of the Bowers of Paradise.
The morning sun came forth,
Wakening no eye to life
In this wide solitude;
His radiance with a saffron hue, like heat,
Suffused the desert snow.
The Green Bird guided Thalaba,
Now oaring with slow wing her upward way,
Descending now in slant descent
On out-spread pinions motionless,
Floating now with rise and fall alternate,
As if the billows of the air
Heaved her with their sink and swell.
And when, beneath the noon,
The icey glitter of the snow
Dazzled his aching sight,
Then on his arm alighted the Green Bird
And spread before his eyes
Her plumage of refreshing hue.
Evening came on; the glowing clouds
Tinged with a purple ray the mountain ridge
That lay before the Traveller.
Ah! whither art thou gone,
Guide and companion of the youth, whose eye
Has lost thee in the depth of Heaven?
Why hast thou left alone
The weary wanderer in the wilderness?
And now the western clouds grow pale
And Night descends upon his solitude.
The Arabian youth knelt down,
And bowed his forehead to the ground
And made his evening prayer.
When he arose the stars were bright in heaven,
The sky was blue, and the cold Moon
Shone over the cold snow.
A speck in the air!
Is it his guide that approaches?
For it moves with the motion of life!
Lo! she returns and scatters from her pinions
Odours diviner than the gales of morning
Waft from Sabea.
Hovering before the youth she hung,
Till from her rosy feet that at his touch
Uncurled their grasp, he took
The fruitful bough they bore.
He took and tasted, a new life
Flowed thro’ his renovated frame;
His limbs that late were sore and stiff
Felt all the freshness of repose,
His dizzy brain was calmed.
The heavy aching of his lids
At once was taken off,
For Laila from the Bowers of Paradise
Had borne the healing fruit.
So up the mountain steep
With untired foot he past,
The Green Bird guiding him
Mid crags, and ice, and rocks,
A difficult way, winding the long ascent.
How then the heart of Thalaba rejoiced
When bosomed in the mountain depths,
A sheltered Valley opened on his view!
It was the Simorg’s vale,
The dwelling of the ancient Bird.
On a green and mossy bank.
Beside a rivulet
The Bird of Ages stood.
No sound intruded on his solitude,
Only the rivulet was heard
Whose everlasting flow
From the birth-day of the world had made
The same unvaried murmuring.
Here dwelt the all-knowing Bird
In deep tranquillity,
His eyelids ever closed
In full enjoyment of profound repose.
Reverently the youth approached
That old and only Bird,
And crossed his arms upon his breast,
And bowed his head and spake.
“Earliest of existing things,
“Earliest thou, and wisest thou,
“Guide me, guide me, on my way!
“I am bound to seek the caverns
“Underneath the roots of Ocean
“Where the Sorcerer brood are nurst.
“Thou the eldest, thou the wisest,
“Guide me, guide me, on my way!”
The ancient Simorg on the youth
Unclosed his thoughtful eyes,
And answered to his prayer.
“Northward by the stream proceed,
“In the fountain of the rock
“Wash away thy worldly stains,
“Kneel thou there, and seek the Lord
“And fortify thy soul with prayer.
“Thus prepared ascend the Sledge,
“Be bold, be wary, seek and find!
“God hath appointed all.”
The ancient Simorg then let fall his lids
Returning to repose.
Northward along the rivulet
The adventurer went his way,
Tracing its waters upward to their source.
Green Bird of Paradise
Thou hast not left the youth;...
With slow associate flight
She companies his way,
And now they reach the fountain of the rock.
There in the cold clear well
Thalaba washed away his earthly stains,
And bowed his face before the Lord,
And fortified his soul with prayer.
The while upon the rock
Stood the celestial Bird,
And pondering all the perils he must pass,
With a mild melancholy eye
Beheld the youth beloved.
And lo! beneath yon lonely pine, the sledge....
And there they stand the harnessed Dogs,
Their wide eyes watching for the youth,
Their ears erected turned towards his way.
They were lean as lean might be,
Their furrowed ribs rose prominent,
And they were black from head to foot,
Save a white line on ever
y breast
Curved like the crescent moon.
And he is seated in the sledge,
His arms are folded on his breast,
The bird is on his knees;
There is fear in the eyes of the Dogs,
There is fear in their pitiful moan,
And now they turn their heads,
And seeing him there, Away!
The Youth with the start of their speed
Falls back to the bar of the sledge,
His hair floats straight in the stream of the wind
Like the weeds in the running brook.
They wind with speed the upward way,
An icey path thro’ rocks of ice,
His eye is at the summit now,
And thus far all is dangerless,
And now upon the height
The black Dogs pause and pant,
They turn their eyes to Thalaba
As if to plead for pity,
They moan and moan with fear.
Once more away! and now
The long descent is seen,
A long, long, narrow path.
Ice-rocks aright and hills of snow,
Aleft the giddy precipice.
Be firm, be firm, O Thalaba!
One motion now, one bend,
And on the crags below
Thy shattered flesh will harden in the frost.
Why howl the Dogs so mournfully?
And wherefore does the blood flow fast
All purple o’er their sable hair?
His arms are folded on his breast,
Nor scourge nor goad has he,
No hand appears to strike,
No sounding lash is heard:
But piteously they moan and moan
And track their way with blood.
And lo! on yonder height
A giant Fiend aloft
Waits to thrust down the tottering Avalanche!
If Thalaba looks back he dies,
The motion of fear is death.
On... on... with swift and steady pace
Adown that dreadful way!
The youth is firm, the Dogs are fleet,
The Sledge goes rapidly,
The thunder of the avalanche
Re-echoes far behind.
On... on... with swift and steady pace
Adown that dreadful way!
The Dogs are fleet, the way is steep
The Sledge goes rapidly,
They reach the plain below.
A wide, wide plain, all desolate,
Nor tree, nor bush, nor herb!
Complete Poetical Works of Robert Southey Page 110