by Thomas Moore
Yet flying turns to gaze and half undone
Wishes that Heaven and she could both be won;
And here MOHAMMED born for love and guile
Forgets the Koran in his MARY’S smile; —
Then beckons some kind angel from above
With a new text to consecrate their love.84
With rapid step, yet pleased and lingering eye,
Did the youth pass these pictured stories by,
And hastened to a casement where the light
Of the calm moon came in and freshly bright
The fields without were seen sleeping as still
As if no life remained in breeze or rill.
Here paused he while the music now less near
Breathed with a holier language on his ear,
As tho’ the distance and that heavenly ray
Thro’ which the sounds came floating took away
All that had been too earthly in the lay.
Oh! could he listen to such sounds unmoved,
And by that light — nor dream of her he loved?
Dream on, unconscious boy! while yet thou may’st;
’Tis the last bliss thy soul shall ever taste.
Clasp yet awhile her image to thy heart,
Ere all the light that made it dear depart.
Think of her smiles as when thou saw’st them last,
Clear, beautiful, by naught of earth o’ercast;
Recall her tears to thee at parting given,
Pure as they weep, if angels weep in Heaven.
Think in her own still bower she waits thee now
With the same glow of heart and bloom of brow,
Yet shrined in solitude — thine all, thine only,
Like the one star above thee, bright and lonely.
Oh! that a dream so sweet, so long enjoyed,
Should be so sadly, cruelly destroyed!
The song is husht, the laughing nymphs are flown,
And he is left musing of bliss alone; —
Alone? — no, not alone — that heavy sigh,
That sob of grief which broke from some one nigh —
Whose could it be? — alas! is misery found
Here, even here, on this enchanted ground?
He turns and sees a female form close veiled,
Leaning, as if both heart and strength had failed,
Against a pillar near; — not glittering o’er
With gems and wreaths such as the others wore,
But in that deep-blue, melancholy dress.85
BOKHARA’S maidens wear in mindfulness
Of friends or kindred, dead or far away; —
And such as ZELICA had on that day
He left her — when with heart too full to speak
He took away her last warm tears upon his cheek.
A strange emotion stirs within him, — more
Than mere compassion ever waked before;
Unconsciously he opes his arms while she
Springs forward as with life’s last energy,
But, swooning in that one convulsive bound,
Sinks ere she reach his arms upon the ground; —
Her veil falls off — her faint hands clasp his knees —
’Tis she herself! — it is ZELICA he sees!
But, ah, so pale, so changed — none but a lover
Could in that wreck of beauty’s shrine discover
The once adorned divinity — even he
Stood for some moments mute, and doubtingly
Put back the ringlets from her brow, and gazed
Upon those lids where once such lustre blazed,
Ere he could think she was indeed his own,
Own darling maid whom he so long had known
In joy and sorrow, beautiful in both;
Who, even when grief was heaviest — when loath
He left her for the wars — in that worst hour
Sat in her sorrow like the sweet night-flower,86
When darkness brings its weeping glories out,
And spreads its sighs like frankincense about.
“Look up, my ZELICA — one moment show
“Those gentle eyes to me that I may know
“Thy life, thy loveliness is not all gone,
“But there at least shines as it ever shone.
“Come, look upon thy AZIM — one dear glance,
“Like those of old, were heaven! whatever chance
“Hath brought thee here, oh, ’twas a blessed one!
“There — my loved lips — they move — that kiss hath run
“Like the first shoot of life thro’ every vein,
“And now I clasp her, mine, all mine again.
“Oh the delight — now, in this very hour,
“When had the whole rich world been in my power,
“I should have singled out thee only thee,
“From the whole world’s collected treasury —
“To have thee here — to hang thus fondly o’er
“My own, best, purest ZELICA once more!”
It was indeed the touch of those fond lips
Upon her eyes that chased their short eclipse.
And gradual as the snow at Heaven’s breath
Melts off and shows the azure flowers beneath,
Her lids unclosed and the bright eyes were seen
Gazing on his — not, as they late had been,
Quick, restless, wild, but mournfully serene;
As if to lie even for that tranced minute
So near his heart had consolation in it;
And thus to wake in his beloved caress
Took from her soul one half its wretchedness.
But, when she heard him call her good and pure,
Oh! ’twas too much — too dreadful to endure!
Shuddering she broke away from his embrace.
And hiding with both hands her guilty face
Said in a tone whose anguish would have riven
A heart of very marble, “Pure! — oh Heaven!” —
That tone — those looks so changed — the withering blight,
That sin and sorrow leave where’er they light:
The dead despondency of those sunk eyes,
Where once, had he thus met her by surprise,
He would have seen himself, too happy boy,
Reflected in a thousand lights of joy:
And then the place, — that bright, unholy place,
Where vice lay hid beneath each winning grace
And charm of luxury as the viper weaves
Its wily covering of sweet balsam leaves,87 —
All struck upon his heart, sudden and cold
As death itself; — it needs not to be told —
No, no — he sees it all plain as the brand
Of burning shame can mark — whate’er the hand,
That could from Heaven and him such brightness sever,
’Tis done — to Heaven and him she’s lost for ever!
It was a dreadful moment; not the tears,
The lingering, lasting misery of years
Could match that minute’s anguish — all the worst
Of sorrow’s elements in that dark burst
Broke o’er his soul and with one crash of fate
Laid the whole hopes of his life desolate.
“Oh! curse me not,” she cried, as wild he tost
His desperate hand towards Heav’n— “tho’ I am lost,
“Think not that guilt, that falsehood made me fall,
“No, no— ’twas grief, ’twas madness did it all!
“Nay, doubt me not — tho’ all thy love hath ceased —
“I know it hath — yet, yet believe, at least,
“That every spark of reason’s light must be
“Quenched in this brain ere I could stray from thee.
“They told me thou wert dead — why, AZIM, why
“Did we not, both of us, that instant die
“When we were parted? oh! could
st thou but know
“With what a deep devotedness of woe
“I wept thy absence — o’er and o’er again
“Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew pain,
“And memory like a drop that night and day
“Falls cold and ceaseless wore my heart away.
“Didst thou but know how pale I sat at home,
“My eyes still turned the way thou wert to come,
“And, all the long, long night of hope and fear,
“Thy voice and step still sounding in my ear —
“Oh God! thou wouldst not wonder that at last,
“When every hope was all at once o’ercast,
“When I heard frightful voices round me say
“Azim is dead! — this wretched brain gave way,
“And I became a wreck, at random driven,
“Without one glimpse of reason or of Heaven —
“All wild — and even this quenchless love within
“Turned to foul fires to light me into sin! —
“Thou pitiest me — I knew thou wouldst — that sky
“Hath naught beneath it half so lorn as I.
“The fiend, who lured me hither — hist! come near.
“Or thou too, thou art lost, if he should hear —
“Told me such things — oh! with such devilish art.
“As would have ruined even a holier heart —
“Of thee, and of that ever-radiant sphere,
“Where blest at length, if I but served him here,
“I should for ever live in thy dear sight.
“And drink from those pure eyes eternal light.
“Think, think how lost, how maddened I must be,
“To hope that guilt could lead to God or thee!
“Thou weep’st for me — do weep — oh, that I durst
“Kiss off that tear! but, no — these lips are curst,
“They must not touch thee; — one divine caress,
“One blessed moment of forgetfulness
“I’ve had within those arms and that shall lie
“Shrined in my soul’s deep memory till I die;
“The last of joy’s last relics here below,
“The one sweet drop, in all this waste of woe,
“My heart has treasured from affection’s spring,
“To soothe and cool its deadly withering!
“But thou — yes, thou must go — for ever go;
“This place is not for thee — for thee! oh no,
“Did I but tell thee half, thy tortured brain
“Would burn like mine, and mine go wild again!
“Enough that Guilt reigns here — that hearts once good
“Now tainted, chilled and broken are his food. —
“Enough that we are parted — that there rolls
“A flood of headlong fate between our souls,
“Whose darkness severs me as wide from thee
“As hell from heaven to all eternity!”
“ZELICA, ZELICA!” the youth exclaimed.
In all the tortures of a mind inflamed
Almost to madness— “by that sacred Heaven,
“Where yet, if prayers can move, thou’lt be forgiven,
“As thou art here — here, in this writhing heart,
“All sinful, wild, and ruined as thou art!
“By the remembrance of our once pure love,
“Which like a church-yard light still burns above
“The grave of our lost souls — which guilt in thee
“Cannot extinguish nor despair in me!
“I do conjure, implore thee to fly hence —
“If thou hast yet one spark of innocence,
“Fly with me from this place” —
“With thee! oh bliss!
“’Tis worth whole years of torment to hear this.
“What! take the lost one with thee? — let her rove
“By thy dear side, as in those days of love,
“When we were both so happy, both so pure —
“Too heavenly dream! if there’s on earth a cure
“For the sunk heart, ’tis this — day after day
“To be the blest companion of thy way;
“To hear thy angel eloquence — to see
“Those virtuous eyes for ever turned on me;
“And in their light re-chastened silently,
“Like the stained web that whitens in the sun,
“Grow pure by being purely shone upon!
“And thou wilt pray for me — I know thou wilt —
“At the dim vesper hour when thoughts of guilt
“Come heaviest o’er the heart thou’lt lift thine eyes
“Full of sweet tears unto the darkening skies
“And plead for me with Heaven till I can dare
“To fix my own weak, sinful glances there;
“Till the good angels when they see me cling
“For ever near thee, pale and sorrowing,
“Shall for thy sake pronounce my soul forgiven,
“And bid thee take thy weeping slave to Heaven!
“Oh yes, I’ll fly with thee” —
Scarce had she said
These breathless words when a voice deep and dread
As that of MONKER waking up the dead
From their first sleep — so startling ’twas to both —
Rang thro’ the casement near, “Thy oath! thy oath!”
Oh Heaven, the ghastliness of that Maid’s look! —
“’Tis he,” faintly she cried, while terror shook
Her inmost core, nor durst she lift her eyes,
Tho’ thro’ the casement, now naught but the skies
And moonlight fields were seen, calm as before —
“’Tis he, and I am his — all, all is o’er —
“Go — fly this instant, or thou’rt ruin’d too —
“My oath, my oath, oh God! ’tis all too true,
“True as the worm in this cold heart it is —
“I am MOKANNA’S bride — his, AZIM, his —
“The Dead stood round us while I spoke that vow,
“Their blue lips echoed it — I hear them now!
“Their eyes glared on me, while I pledged that bowl,
“’Twas burning blood — I feel it in my soul!
“And the Veiled Bridegroom — hist! I’ve seen to-night
“What angels know not of — so foul a sight.
“So horrible — oh! never may’st thou see
“What there lies hid from all but hell and me!
“But I must hence — off, off — I am not thine,
“Nor Heaven’s, nor Love’s, nor aught that is divine —
“Hold me not — ha! think’st thou the fiends that sever
“Hearts cannot sunder hands? — thus, then — for ever!”
With all that strength which madness lends the weak
She flung away his arm; and with a shriek
Whose sound tho’ be should linger out more years
Than wretch e’er told can never leave his ears —
Flew up thro’ that long avenue of light,
Fleetly as some dark, ominous bird of night,
Across the sun; and soon was out of sight!
LALLA ROOKH could think of nothing all day but the misery of those two young lovers. Her gayety was gone, and she looked pensively even upon FADLAPEEN. She felt, too, without knowing why, a sort of uneasy pleasure in imagining that AZIM must have been just such a youth as FERAMORZ; just as worthy to enjoy all the blessings, without any of the pangs, of that illusive passion, which too often like the sunny apples of Istkahar88 is all sweetness on one side and all bitterness on the other.
As they passed along a sequestered river after sunset they saw a young Hindoo girl upon the bank, whose employment seemed to them so strange that they stopped their palankeens to observe her. She had lighted a small lamp filled with oil of cocoa, and placing it in an earthen dish ador
ned with a wreath of flowers, had committed it with a trembling hand to the stream; and was now anxiously watching its progress down the current, heedless of the gay cavalcade which had drawn up beside her. LALLA ROOKH was all curiosity; — when one of her attendants, who had lived upon the banks of the Ganges, (where this ceremony is so frequent that often in the dusk of the evening the river is seen glittering all over with lights, like the Oton-tala or Sea of Stars,)89 informed the princess that it was the usual way in which the friends of those who had gone on dangerous voyages offered up vows for their safe return. If the lamp sunk immediately the omen was disastrous; but if it went shining down the stream and continued to burn till entirely out of sight, the return of the beloved object was considered as certain.
LALLA ROOKH as they moved on more than once looked back to observe how the young Hindoo’s lamp proceeded; and while she saw with pleasure that it was still unextinguished she could not help fearing that all the hopes of this life were no better than that feeble light upon the river. The remainder of the journey was passed in silence. She now for the first time felt that shade of melancholy which comes over the youthful maiden’s heart as sweet and transient as her own breath upon a mirror; nor was it till she heard the lute of FERAMOKZ, touched lightly at the door of her pavilion that she waked from the revery in which she had been wandering. Instantly her eyes were lighted up with pleasure; and after a few unheard remarks from FADLADEEN upon the indecorum of a poet seating himself in presence of a Princess everything was arranged as on the preceding evening and all listened with eagerness while the story was thus continued: —
Whose are the gilded tents that crowd the way,
Where all was waste and silent yesterday?
This City of War which, in a few short hours,
Hath sprung up here, as if the magic powers90
Of Him who, in the twinkling of a star,
Built the high pillared halls of CHILMINAR,91
Had conjur’d up, far as the eye can see,
This world of tents and domes and sunbright armory: —
Princely pavilions screened by many a fold
Of crimson cloth and topt with balls of gold: —
Steeds with their housings of rich silver spun,
Their chains and poitrels glittering in the sun;
And camels tufted o’er with Yemen’s shells92
Shaking in every breeze their light-toned bells!
But yester-eve, so motionless around,
So mute was this wide plain that not a sound
But the far torrent or the locust bird93
Hunting among thickets could be heard; —
Yet hark! what discords now of every kind,
Shouts, laughs, and screams are revelling in the wind;