Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky, Tis the chime of the East; 'tis the land of the SunCan he smile on such deeds as his children have done?(1) Oh! wild as the accents of lovers' farewell Are the hearts which they bear, and the tales which they tell. II. Begirt with many a gallant slave, To guide his steps, or guard his rest, Deep thought was in his aged eye; And though the face of Mussulman Not oft betrays to standers by The mind within, well skill'd to hide All but unconquerable pride, His pensive cheek and pondering brow Did more than he was wont avow.. III. "Let the chamber be clear'd."-The train disappear'd "Now call me the chief of the haram guard." With Giaffir is none but his only son, And the Nubian awaiting the sire's award. Hence, lead my daughter from her tower; No more must slave to despot say— First lowly rendering reverence meet; "Father! for fear that thou shouldst chide That-let the old and weary sleep-- The fairest scenes of land and deep, With none to listen and reply To thoughts with which my heart beat high Were irksome-for whate'er my mood, I on Zuleika's slumber broke, And, as thou knowest that for me Soon turns the haram's grating key, Before the guardian slaves awoke We to the cypress groves had flown, And made earth, main, and heaven our own! There linger'd we, beguiled too long With Mejnoun's tale, or Sadi's song; (2) Till I, who heard the deep tambour (3) Beat thy divan's approaching hour, To thee, and to my duty true, Warn'd by the sound, to greet thee flew : But there Zuleika wanders yetNay, father, rage not-nor forget That none can pierce that secret bower But those who watch the women's tower." IV. "Son of a slave!"-the Pacha said- Nor strike one stroke for life and death But, Haroun!-to my daughter speed: V. No sound from Selim's lip was heard, And started; for within his eye "Come hither, boy-what, no reply? (2) Mejnoun and Leila, the Romeo and Juliet of the East. Sadi, the moral poet of Persia. (3) Tambour. Turkish drum, which sounds at sunrise, noon, and twilight. As sneeringly these accents fell, On Selim's eye he fiercely gazed: That eye return'd him glance for glance, And proudly to his sire's was raised, Till Giaffir's quail'd and shrunk askanceAnd why he felt, but durst not tell. "Much I misdoubt this wayward boy Will one day work me more annoy: I never loved him from his birth, And-but his arm is fittle worth, And scarcely in the chase could cope With timid fawn or antelope, Far less would venture into strife Where man contends for fame and lifeI would not trust that look or tone: No-nor the blood so near my own. That blood-he hath not heard-no moreI'll watch him closer than before. He is an Arab (1) to my sight, Or Christian crouching in the fightBut hark!-I hear Zuleika's voice; Like houris' hymn it meets mine ear: Oh! more than even her mother dear, Who blest thy birth, and bless thee now." VI. Fair as the first that fell of womankind, When on that dread yet lovely serpent smiling, Whose image then was stamp'd upon her mind But once beguiled-and ever more beguiling; Dazzling, as that, oh! too transcendent vision To Sorrow's phantom-peopled slumber given, (1) The Turks abhor the Arabs (who return the compliment a hundred-fold) even more than they hate the Christians. (2) These twelve fine lines were added in the course of printing.-L. E. (3) This expression has met with objections. I will not refer to "Him who hath not music in his soul," but merely request the reader to recollect, for ten seconds, the features of the woman whom he believes to be the most beautiful; and, if he then does not comprehend fully what is feebly expressed in the above line, I shall be sorry for us both. For an eloquent passage in the latest work of the first female writer of this, perhaps of any, age, on the analogy (and the immediate comparison excited by that analogy) between "painting and music," see vol. iii. cap. 10. De l'Allemagne. And is not this connection still stronger with the original than the copy? with the colouring of nature than of art? After all, this is rather to be felt than described; still I think there are some who will understand it, at least they would have done had they beheld the countenance whose speaking harmony suggested the idea; for this passage is not drawn from imagination but memory, that mirror which Affliction dashes to the earth, and, looking down upon the fragments, only beholds the reflection multiplied!-["This morning, a very pretty billet from the Stael. She has been pleased to be pleased with my slight eulogy in the note annexed to the Bride. This is to be accounted for in several ways: firstly, all women like all or any praise; secondly, this was unexpected, because I have never courted her; and, thirdly, as Scrub says, those who have been all their lives regularly praised, by regular critics, like a little variety, and are glad when any one goes out of his way to say a civil thing; and, fourthly, she is a very good-natured crea When heart meets heart again in dreams Elysian, And paints the lost on earth revived in heaven; Soft, as the memory of buried love; Pure, as the prayer which Childhood wafts above; Was she-the daughter of that rude old chief, Who met the maid with tears-but not of grief. Who hath not proved how feebly words essay (2) To fix one spark of Beauty's heavenly ray? Who doth not feel, until his failing sight Faints into dimness with its own delight, His changing cheek, his sinking heart confess The might-the majesty of Loveliness? Such was Zuleika-such around her shone The nameless charms unmark'd by her alone; The light of love, the purity of grace, The mind, the music (3) breathing from her face,(4) Her graceful arms in meekness bending VII. "Zuleika! child of gentleness! How dear this very day must tell, When I forget my own distress, In losing what I love so well, To bid thee with another dwell: Another! and a braver man Was never seen in battle's van. We Moslem reck not much of blood; But yet the line of Carasman (5) ture, which is the best reason, after all, and perhaps, the only one." B. Diary, Dec. 7, 1813.-L. E.] (4) Among the imputed plagiarisms so industrionsly hunted out in his writings, this line has been, with somewhat more plausibility than is frequent in such charges, included; the lyric poet Lovelace having, it seems, written "The melody and music of her face." Sir Thomas Browne, too, in his Religio Medici, says, "There is music even in beauty." The coincidence, no doubt, is worth observing, and the task of "tracking thus a favourite writer in the snow (as Dryden expresses it) of others," is sometimes not unamusing but to those who found upon such resemblances a general charge of plagiarism, we may apply what S Walter Scott says:-"It is a favourite theme of laborious dulness to trace such coincidences, because they appear to reduce genius of the higher order to the usual standard of humanity, and of course to bring the author nearer to a level with his critics." Moore.-L. E. Of the line which has given rise to these strictures, "it is not only curious, but instructive," says Moore, "to trace the progress to its present state of finish. Having at first written Mind on her lip, and music in her face,' he afterwards altered it to The mind of music breathing in her face,' but this not satisfying him, the next step of correction brought the line to what it is at present."-P. E. (5) Carasman Oglou, or Kara Osman Oglou, is the prin cipal landholder in Turkey; he governs Magnesia: those who, by a kind of feudal tenure, possess land on condition of service, are called Timariots: they serve as Spahis, according to the extent of territory, and bring a certain nam ber into the field, generally cavalry. Unchanged, unchangeable hath stood His years need scarce a thought employ; VIII. In silence bow'd the virgin's head; What could such be but maiden fears? Thrice clapp'd his hands, and call'd his steed,(2) And mounting featly for the mead, His way amid his delis took,(5) To witness many an active deed IX. His head was leant upon his hand, (1) When a pacha is sufficiently strong to resist, the single messenger, who is always the first bearer of the order for his death, is strangled instead, and sometimes five or six, one after the other, on the same errand, by command of the refractory patient; if, on the contrary, he is weak or loyal, he bows, kisses the sultan's respectable signature, aad is bowstrung with great complacency. In 1810, several of these presents were exhibited in the niche of the Seraglio gate; among others, the head of the Pacha of Bagdat, a brave young man, cut off by treachery, after a desperate resistance. (2) Clapping of the hands calls the servants. The Turks bate a superfluous expenditure of voice, and they have no bells. (3) "Chibouque," the Turkish pipe, of which the amber mouth-piece, and sometimes the ball which contains the leaf, is adorned with precious stones, if in possession of the wealthier orders. (4) “Maugrabee," Moorish mercenaries, (5) "Delis," bravos who form the forlorn hope of the cavalry, and always begin the action. (6) A twisted fold of felt is used for scimitar practice by the Turks, and few but Mussulman arms can cut through it at a single stroke: sometimes a tough turban is used for But yet he saw nor sea nor strand, X. No word from Selim's bosom broke; And watch'd his eye-it still was fix'd: The pictured roof (9) and marble floor: The drops, that through his glittering vest The playful girl's appeal address'd, Unheeded o'er his bosom flew, As if that breast were marble too. The fairest flowers of eastern land"He loved them once; may touch them yet, If offer'd by Zuleika's band." The childish thought was hardly breathed For Selim's ear his sweetest song; the same purpose. The jerreed is a game of blunt javelins, animated and graceful. (7) "Ollahs," Alla il Allah, the "Leilies," as the Spanish poets call them, the sound is Ollah; a cry of which the Turks, for a silent people, are somewhat profuse, particularly during the jerreed, or in the chase, but mostly in battle. Their animation in the field, and gravity in the chamber, with their pipes and comboloios, form an amusing contrast. (8) "Atar-gul," ottar of roses. The Persian is the finest. (9) The ceiling and wainscots, or rather walls, of the Mussulman apartments, are generally painted, in great houses, with one eternal and highly-coloured view of Constantinople, wherein the principal feature is a noble contempt of perspective; below, arms, scimitars, etc. are in general fancifully and not inelegantly disposed. (10) It has been much doubted whether the notes of this "Lover of the rose" are sad or merry; and Mr. Fox's remarks on the subject have provoked some learned controversy as to the opinions of the ancients on the subject. I dare not venture a conjecture on the point, though a little inclined to the "errare mallem," etc. if Mr. Fox was mis taken. And though his note is somewhat sad, He'll try for once a strain more glad, With some faint hope his alter'd lay May sing these gloomy thoughts away. XI. "What! not receive my foolish flower? And know'st thou not who loves thee best! Since words of mine, and songs must fail, I knew our sire at times was stern, Ah! deem I right? the Pacha's plan- Perhaps may prove some foe of thine: When flies that shaft, and fly it must, XII. He lived-he breathed-he moved-he felt! He raised the maid from where she knelt; His trance was gone-his keen eye shone With thoughts that long in darkness dwelt; With thoughts that burn-in rays that melt. As the stream late conceal'd By the fringe of its willows, When it rushes reveal'd In the light of its billows; As the bolt bursts on high From the black cloud that bound it, Through the long lashes round it. With life to keep, and scarce with life resign; (I) "Azrael," the angel of death. (2) The treasures of the pre-adamite Sultans. See D'Herbelot, article Istakar. (3) "Musselim," a governor, the next in rank after a Now thou art mine-that sacred oath, A heart his words nor deeds can daunt. I know the wretch who dares demand I've arms, and friends, and vengeance near." XIII. "Think not thou art what thou appearest! My Selim, thou art sadly changed: This morn I saw thee gentlest, dearest; But now thou 'rt from thyself estranged. My love thou surely knew'st before, It ne'er was less, nor can be more. To see thee, hear thee, near thee stay, And hate the night I know not why, Save that we meet not but by day; With thee to live, with thee to die, I dare not to my hope deny; Thy cheek, thine eyes, thy lips to kiss, Like this-and this-no more than this; For, Alla! sure thy lips are flame: What fever in thy veins is flushing? My own have nearly caught the same, At least I feel my cheek too blushing. To soothe thy sickness, watch thy health, Partake, but never waste, thy wealth, Or stand with smiles unmurmuring by, And lighten half thy poverty; Do all but close thy dying eye, For that I could not live to try! To these alone my thoughts aspire: More can I do, or thon require? pacha; a waywode is the third; and then come the agas. (4) "Egripo," the Negropont. According to the proverb, the Turks of Egripo, the Jews of Salonica, and the Greeks of Atheus, are the worst of their respective races. But, Selim, thou must answer why Yet what thou mean'st by 'arms' and 'friends' I meant that Giaffir should have heard The very vow I plighted thee; Can this fond wish seem strange in me, What other hath Zuleika seen These cherish'd thoughts with life begun, And such it feels while lurking here; Nor leave me thus to thoughts of fear. XIV. "Zuleika-to thy tower's retreat For which the Giaour may give him thanks! Then softly from the haram creep (I) "Tchocadar"-one of the attendants who precedes a man of authority. (2) The wrangling about this epithet, "the broad Helles And if he doth, I want not steel "Fear thee, my Selim! ne'er till now Did word like this- "9 "Delay not thou; I keep the key-and Haroun's guard Have some, and hope of more reward. To-night, Zuleika, thou shalt hear My tale, my purpose, and my fear: I am not, love! what I appear." CANTO II. I. THE winds are high on Helle's wave, The lonely hope of Sestos' daughter. II. The winds are high, and Helle's tide Rolls darkly-heaving to the main; And Night's descending shadows hide That field with blood bedew'd in vain, The desert of old Priam's pride; The tombs, sole relics of his reign, All-save immortal dreams that could beguile The blind old man of Scio's rocky isle! III. Oh! yet-for there my steps have been; These feet have press'd the sacred shore, These limbs that buoyant wave hath borneMinstrel! with thee to muse, to mourn, To trace again those fields of yore, Believing every hillock green Contains no fabled hero's ashes, And that around the undoubted scene Thine own "broad Hellespont" (2) still dashes, Be long my lot! and cold were he Who there could gaze denying thee! pont" or the "boundless Hellespont," whether it means one or the other, or what it means at all, has been beyond all possibility of detail. I have even heard it disputed on the |