Veiling the selfish deed.
Locked in the magic chain
The powerless hand of Thalaba
Received again the Spell.
Remembering then with what an ominous faith
First he drew on the gem,
The Youth repeats his words of augury;
"In God's name and the Prophet's! be its power
"Good, let it serve the holy! if for evil
"God and my faith shall hallow it.
"Blindly the wicked work
"The righteous will of Heaven!"
So Thalaba received again
The written ring of gold.
Thoughtful awhile Mohareb stood
And eyed the captive youth.
Then, building skilfully the sophist speech,
Thus he began. "Brave art thou, Thalaba!
"And wherefore are we foes!... for I would buy
"Thy friendship at a princely price, and make thee
"To thine own welfare wise.
"Hear me! in Nature are two hostile Gods,
"Makers and Masters of existing things,
"Equal in power:... nay hear me patiently!...
"Equal ... for look around thee! the same Earth
"Bears fruit and poison; where the Camel finds
"His fragrant[145] food, the horned Viper there
"Sucks in the juice of death; the Elements
"Now serve the use of man, and now assert
"Dominion o'er his weakness; dost thou hear
"The sound of merriment and nuptial song?
"From the next house proceeds the mourner's cry
"Lamenting o'er the dead. Sayest thou that Sin
"Entered the world of Allah? that the Fiend
"Permitted for a season, prowls for prey?
"When to thy tent the venomous serpent creeps
"Dost thou not crush the reptile? even so,
"Besure, had Allah crushed his Enemy,
"But that the power was wanting. From the first,
"Eternal as themselves their warfare is,
"To the end it must endure. Evil and Good....
"What are they Thalaba but words? in the strife
"Of Angels, as of men, the weak are guilty;
"Power must decide. The Spirits of the Dead
"Quitting their mortal mansion, enter not,
"As falsely ye are preached, their final seat
"Of bliss, or bale; nor in the sepulchre
"Sleep they the long long sleep: each joins the host
"Of his great Leader, aiding in the war
"Whose fate involves his own.
"Woe to the vanquished then!
"Woe to the sons of man who followed him!
"They with their Leader, thro' eternity,
"Must howl in central fires.
"Thou Thalaba hast chosen ill thy part,
"If choice it may be called, where will was not,
"Nor searching doubt, nor judgement wise to weigh.
"Hard is the service of the Power beneath
"Whose banners thou wert born; his discipline
"Severe, yea cruel; and his wages, rich
"Only in promise; who has seen the pay?
"For us ... the pleasures of the world are ours,
"Riches and rule, the kingdoms of the Earth.
"We met in Babylon adventurers both,
"Each zealous for the hostile Power he served:
"We meet again; thou feelest what thou art,
"Thou seest what I am, the Sultan here,
"The Lord of Life and Death.
"Abandon him who has abandoned thee,
"And be as I am, great among mankind!"
The Captive did not, hasty to confute
Break of that subtle speech,
But when the expectant silence of the King
Looked for his answer, then spake Thalaba.
"And this then is thy faith! this monstrous creed!
"This lie against the Sun and Moon and Stars
"And Earth and Heaven! blind man who canst not see
"How all things work the best! who wilt not know
"That in the Manhood of the World, whate'er
"Of folly marked its Infancy, of vice
"Sullied its Youth, ripe Wisdom shall cast off,
"Stablished in good, and knowing evil safe.
"Sultan Mohareb, yes, ye have me here
"In chains; but not forsaken, tho' opprest:
"Cast down, but not destroyed. Shall danger daunt,
"Shall death dismay his soul, whose life is given
"For God and for his brethren of mankind?
"Alike rewarded, in that noble cause,
"The Conquerors and the Martyrs palm above
"Beam with one glory. Hope ye that my blood
"Can quench the dreaded flame? and know ye not
"That leagued against you are the Just and Wise,
"And all Good Actions of all ages past,
"Yea your own Crimes, and Truth, and God in Heaven!"
"Slave!" quoth Mohareb, and his lips
Quivered with eager wrath.
"I have thee! thou shalt feel my power,
"And in thy dungeon loathsomeness
"Rot piece-meal, limb from limb!"
And out the Tyrant rushes,
And all impatient of the thoughts
That cankered in his heart,
Seeks in the giddiness of boisterous sport
Short respite from the avenging power within.
What Woman is she
So wrinkled and old,
That goes to the wood?
She leans on her staff
With a tottering step,
She tells her bead-strings slow
Thro' fingers dulled by age.
The wanton boys bemock her.
The babe in arms that meets her
Turns round with quick affright
And clings to his nurse's neck.
Hark! hark! the hunter's cry
Mohareb gone to the chase!
The dogs with eager yell
Are struggling to be free;
The hawks in frequent stoop
Token their haste for flight;
And couchant on the saddle-bow,
With tranquil eyes and talons sheathed
The ounce expects his liberty.
Propt on the staff that shakes
Beneath her trembling weight,
The Old Woman sees them pass.
Halloa! halloa!
The game is up!
The dogs are loosed
The deer bounds over the plain,
The lagging dogs behind
Follow from afar!
But lo! the Falcon o'er his head.
Hovers with hostile[146] wings,
And buffets him with blinding strokes!
Dizzy with the deafening strokes
In blind and interrupted course,
Poor beast be struggles on;
And now the dogs are nigh!
How his heart pants! you see
The panting of his heart;
And tears like human tears
Roll down, along the big veins, fever-swoln;
And now the death-sweat[147] darkens his dun hide!
His fear, his groans, his agony, his death,
Are the sport and the joy and the triumph!
Halloa! another prey,
The nimble Antelope!
The Ounce[148] is freed; one spring
And his talons are sheathed in her shoulders,
And his teeth are red in her gore.
There came a sound from the wood,
Like the howl of the winter wind at night
Around a lonely dwelling,
The Ounce whose gums were warm in his prey
He hears the summoning sound.
In vain his master's voice
No longer dreaded now,
Calls and recalls with threatful tone.
Away to the forest he goes,
For that Old Woman had laid
Her shrivelled finger on her shrivelled lips,
And whistled with a long, long breath,
And that long breath was the sound
Like the howl of the winter wind at night
Around a lonely dwelling.
Mohareb knew her not,
As to the chase he went,
The glance of his proud eye
Passing in scorn o'er age and wretchedness.
She stands in the depth of the wood,
And panting to her feet
Fawning and fearful creeps the charmed ounce.
Well mayst thou fear, and vainly dost thou fawn!
Her form is changed, her visage new,
Her power, her heart the same!
It is Khawla that stands in the wood.
She knew the place where the mandrake grew,
And round the neck of the ounce,
And round the mandrake's head
She tightens the ends of her cord.
Her ears are closed with wax,
And her prest finger fastens them,
Deaf as the Adder, when with grounded head
And circled form, her avenues of sound
Barred safely, one slant eye
Watches the charmer's lips
Waste on the wind his[149] baffled witchery.
The spotted ounce so beautiful
Springs forceful from the scourge:
The dying plant all agony,
Feeling its life-strings crack,
Uttered the unimaginable groan
That none can hear and live.
Then from her victim servant Khawla loosed
The precious poison, next with naked hand
She plucked the boughs of the manchineel.
Then of the wormy wax she took,
That from the perforated[150] tree forced out,
Bewrayed its insect-parent's work within.
In a cavern of the wood she sits
And moulds the wax to human form,
And as her fingers kneaded it,
By magic accents, to the mystic shape
Imparted with the life of Thalaba,
In all its passive powers
Mysterious sympathy.
With the Mandrake and the Manchineel
She builds her pile accurst.
She lays her finger to the pile,
And blue and green, the flesh
Glows with emitted fire,
A fire[151] to kindle that strange fuel meet.
Before the fire she placed the imaged wax,
"There[152] waste away!" the Enchantress cried,
"And with thee waste Hodeirah's Son!"
Fool! fool! go thaw the everlasting ice,
Whose polar mountains bound the human reign.
Blindly the wicked work
The righteous will of Heaven!
The doomed Destroyer wears Abdaldar's ring!
Against the danger of his horoscope
Yourselves have shielded him!
And on the sympathizing wax
The unadmitted flames play powerlessly,
As the cold moon-beam on a plain of snow.
"Curse thee! curse thee!" cried the fiendly woman,
"Hast thou yet a spell of safety?"
And in the raging flames
She cast the imaged wax.
It lay amid the flames,
Like Polycarp of old,
When by the glories of the burning stake
O'er vaulted, his grey hairs
Curled, life-like, to the fire
That haloed round his saintly brow.
"Wherefore is this!" cried Khawla, and she stamped
Thrice on the cavern floor,
"Maimuna! Maimuna!"
Thrice on the floor she stamped,
Then to the rocky gateway glanced
Her eager eyes, and Maimuna was there.
"Nay Sister, nay!" quoth she, "Mohareb's life
"Is linked with Thalaba's!
"Nay Sister, nay! the plighted oath!
"The common Sacrament!"
"Idiot!" said Khawla, "one must die, or all!
"Faith kept with him were treason to the rest.
"Why lies the wax, like marble, in the fire?
"What powerful amulet
"Protects Hodeirah's son?"
Cold, marble-cold, the wax
Lay on the raging pile,
Cold in that white intensity of fire.
The Bat that with her hooked and leathery wings
Clung to the cave-roof, loosed her hold,
Death-sickening with the heat;
The Toad who to the darkest nook had crawled
Panted fast with fever pain;
The Viper from her nest came forth
Leading her quickened brood,
Who sportive with the warm delight, rolled out
Their thin curls, tender as the tendril rings,
Ere the green beauty of their brittle youth
Grows brown, and toughens in the summer sun.
Cold, marble-cold, the wax
Lay on the raging pile,
The silver quivering of the element
O'er its pale surface shedding a dim gloss.
Amid the red and fiery smoke,
Watching the strange portent,
The blue-eyed Sorceress and her Sister stood,
Seeming a ruined Angel by the side
Of Spirit born in Hell.
At length raised Maimuna her thoughtful eyes,
"Whence Sister was the wax
"The work of the worm, or the bee?
"Nay then I marvel not!
"It were as wise to bring from Ararat
"The fore-world's[153] wood to build the magic pile,
"And feed it from the balm bower, thro' whose veins
"The Martyr's blood sends such a virtue out,
"That the fond Mother from beneath its shade
"Wreathes the Cerastes[154] round her playful child.
"This the eternal, universal strife!
"There is a grave-wax,[155]... I have seen the Gouls
"Fight for the dainty at their banquetting."...
"Excellent witch!" quoth Khawla; and she went
To the cave arch of entrance, and scowled up,
Mocking the blessed Sun,
"Shine thou in Heaven, but I will shadow Earth!
"Thou wilt not shorten day,
"But I will hasten darkness!" Then the Witch
Began a magic song,
One long low tone thro' teeth half-closed,
Thro' lips slow-moving muttered slow,
One long-continued breath,
Till to her eyes a darker yellowness
Was driven, and fuller swoln the prominent veins
On her loose throat grew black.
Then looking upward thrice she breathed
Into the face of Heaven,
The baneful breath infected Heaven;
A mildewing mist it spread
Darker and darker; so the evening sun
Poured his unentering glory on the mist,
And it was night below.
"Bring now the wax," quoth Khawla, "for thou knowest
"The mine that yields it!" forth went Maimuna,
In mist and darkness went the Sorceress forth.
And she has reached the place of Tombs,
And in their sepulchres the dead
Feel[156] feet unholy trampling over them.
Thou startest Maimuna,
Because the breeze is in thy lilted locks!
Is Khawla's spell so weak?
Sudden came the breeze and strong;
The mist that in the labouring lungs was felt
So heavy late, flies now before the gale,
Thin as an Infant's breath
Seen in the sunshine of an autumn frost.
Sudden it came and soon its work was done,
And suddenly it ceased;
Cloudless and calm it left the firmament,
And beautiful in the blue sky
Arose the summer Moon.
She heard the quickened action of her blood,
She felt the fever in her cheeks.
Daunted, yet desperate, in a tomb
Entering, with impious hand she traced
Circles, and squares, and trines,
And magic characters,
Till riven by her charms the grave
Yawned and disclosed its dead,
Maimuna's eyes were opened, and she saw
The secrets of the grave.
There sate a Spirit in the vault,
In shape, in hue, in lineaments like life,
And by him couched, as if intranced,
The hundred-headed Worm that never dies.
"Nay Sorceress! not to-night!" the Spirit cried,
"The flesh in which I sinned may rest to-night
"From suffering; all things, even I to-night,
"Even the Damned repose!"
The flesh of Maimuna
Crept on her bones with terror, and her knees
Trembled with their trembling weight.
"Only this sabbath! and at dawn the Worm
"Will wake, and this poor flesh must grow to meet
"The gnawing of his hundred[157] poison-mouths!
"God! God! Is there no mercy after death?"
Soul-struck she rushed away,
She fled the place of Tombs,
She cast herself upon the earth,
All agony and tumult and despair.
And in that wild and desperate agony
Sure Maimuna had died the utter death,
If aught of evil had been possible
On this mysterious night;
For this was that most holy[158] night
When all created things know and adore
The Power that made them; insects, beasts, and birds,
The water-dwellers, herbs and trees and stones,
Yea Earth and Ocean and the infinite Heaven
With all its worlds. Man only does not know
The universal sabbath, does not join
With Nature in her homage. Yet the prayer
Flows from the righteous with intenser love,
A holier calm succeeds, and sweeter dreams
Visit the slumbers of the penitent.
Therefore on Maimuna the elements,
Shed healing; every breath she breathed was balm.
Was not a flower but sent in incense up
Its richest odours, and the song of birds
Now, like the music of the Seraphim,
Entered her soul, and now
Made silence aweful by their sudden pause.
It seemed as if the quiet moon
Poured quietness, its lovely light
Was like the smile of reconciling Heaven.
Is it the dew of night
That down her glowing cheek
Shines in the moon-beam? oh! she weeps ... she weeps
And the Good Angel that abandoned her
At her hell-baptism, by her tears drawn down
Resumes his charge, then Maimuna
Recalled to mind the double oracle;
Quick as the lightening flash
Its import glanced upon her, and the hope
Of pardon and salvation rose,
As now she understood
The lying prophecy of truth.
She pauses not, she ponders not,
The driven air before her fanned the face
Of Thalaba, and he awoke and saw
The Sorceress of the silver locks.
One more permitted spell!
She takes the magic chain.
With the wide eye of wonder, Thalaba
Watches her snowy fingers round and round
Wind the loosening chain.
Again he hears the low sweet voice,
The low sweet voice so musical,
That sure it was not strange,
If in those unintelligible tones
Was more than human potency,
That with such deep and undefined delight,
Filled the surrendered soul.
The work is done, the song is ceased;
He wakes as from a dream of Paradise
And feels his fetters gone, and with the burst
Of wondering adoration praises God.
Her charm has loosed the chain it bound,
But massy walls and iron gates
Confine Hodeirah's son.
Heard ye not, Genii of the Air, her spell,
That o'er her face there flits
The sudden flush of fear?
Again her louder lips repeat the charm,
Her eye is anxious, her cheek pale,
Her pulse plays fast and feeble.
Nay Maimuna! thy power has ceased,
And the wind scatters now
The voice that ruled it late.
"Pray for me, Thalaba," she cried,
"For death and judgement are at hand!"
All night in agony,
She feared the instant blow of Hell's revenge.
At dawn the sound of gathering multitudes
Led to the prison bars her dreading eye.
What spectacle invites
The growing multitude,
That torrent-like they roll along?
Boys and grey-headed age; the Mother comes
Leading her child, who at arm's length
Outstripping her, looks back
And bids her hasten more.
Why does the City pour her thousands forth?
What glorious pageantry
Makes her streets desolate, and silences
Her empty dwellings? comes the bridal pomp,
And have the purveyors of imperial lust
Torn from their parents arms again
The virgin beauties of the land?
Will elephants in gilded cages bear
The imprisoned victims? or may yet their eyes
With a last look of liberty, behold
Banners and guards and silk-arched palanquins.
The long procession, and the gorgeous pomp
Of their own sacrifice?
On the house tops and in the windows ranged
Face above face, they wait
The coming spectacle;
The trees are clustered, and below the dust
Thro' the thronged populace
Can find no way to rise.
He comes! the Sultan! hark the swelling horn,
The trumpet's spreading blair,
The timbrel tinkling as its silver bells
Twinkle aloft, and the shrill cymbal's sound,
Whose broad brass flashes in the morning sun
Accordant light and music! closing all
The heavy Gong is heard,
That falls like thunder on the dizzy ear.
On either hand the thick-wedged crowd
Fall from the royal path.
Recumbent in the palanquin he casts
On the wide tumult of the waving throng
A proud and idle eye.
Now in his tent alighted, he receives
Homage and worship. The slave multitude
With shouts of blasphemy adore
Him, father of his people! him their Lord!
Great King, all-wise, all-mighty, and all-good!
Whose smile was happiness, whose frown was death,
Their present Deity!
With silken cords his slaves
Wave the silk[159] fan, that waving o'er his head
Freshens the languid air.
Others the while shower o'er his robes
The rose's treasured sweets,
Rich odours burn before him, ambergrese,
Sandal and aloe wood,
And thus inhaling the voluptuous air
He sits to watch the agony,
To hear the groan of death.
At once all sounds are hushed,
All eyes take one direction, for he comes,
The object he of this day's festival,
Of all this expectation and this joy,
The Christian captive. Hark! so silently
They stand, the clanking of his chain is heard.
And he has reached the place of suffering now.
And as the death's-men round his ancles bind
The cords and to the gibbet swing him up,
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[160] 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.
The Tenth Book.
_THALABA THE DESTROYER._
_THE TENTH BOOK._
Alone, beside a rivulet it stands
The Upas[161] 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[162] 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[163] 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[164] 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[165] 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[166]
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
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.