VISION OF BELSHAZZAR

THE King was on his throne,
The Satraps throng'd the hall;
A thousand bright lamps shone
O'er that high festival.
A thousand cups of gold,
In Judah deem'd divine-
Jehovah's vessels hold

The godless Heathen's wine!

In that same hour and hall,
The fingers of a hand
Came forth against the wall,
And wrote as if on sand;
The fingers of a man;-
A solitary hand
Along the letters ran,

And traced them like a wand.

The monarch saw, and shook,

And bade no more rejoice; All bloodless wax'd his look,

And tremulous his voice.
'Let the men of lore appear,

The wisest of the earth,
And expound the words of fear,
Which mar our royal mirth.'

Chaldea's seers are good,

But here they have no skill;
And the unknown letters stood
Untold and awful still.
And Babel's men of age

Are wise and deep in lore;

But now they were not sage,

They saw but knew no more.

A captive in the land,

A stranger and a youth,
He heard the king's command,
He saw that writing's truth.
The lamps around were bright,
The prophecy in view;
He read it on that night, -

The morrow proved it true.

'Belshazzar's grave is made,
His kingdom pass'd away,
He, in the balance weigh'd,
Is light and worthless clay;
The shroud, his robe of state,
His canopy the stone:
The Mede is at his gate!

The Persian on his throne!'

And the Nubian awaiting the sire's award. 'Haroun when all the crowd that wait Are pass'd beyond the outer gate (Woe to the head whose eye beheld My child Zuleika's face unveil❜d !), Hence, lead my daughter from her tower;

Her fate is fix'd this very hour:
Yet not to her repeat my thought;
By me alone be duty taught !'

'Pacha! to hear is to obey.'

No more must slave to despot say -
Then to the tower had ta'en his way:
But here young Selim silence brake,

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First lowly rendering reverence meet; And downcast look'd, and gently spake, Still standing at the Pacha's feet: For son of Moslem must expire, Ere dare to sit before his sire!

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'Son of a slave,' the Pacha said, 'From unbelieving mother bred, Vain were a father's hope to see Aught that beseems a man in thee. Thou, when thine arm should bend the bow,

And hurl the dart, and curb the steed, Thon, Greek in soul if not in creed, Must pore where babbling waters flow, And watch unfolding roses blow. Would that yon orb, whose matin glow Thy listless eyes so much admire, Would lend thee something of his fire! Thou, who wouldst see this battlement By Christian cannon piecemeal rent; Nay, tamely view old Stambol's wall Before the dogs of Moscow fall,

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Son of a slave !-and who my sire?' Thus held his thoughts their dark

career;

And glances ev'n of more than ire Flash forth, then faintly disappear. Old Giaffir gazed upon his son

And started; for within his eye

He read how much his wrath had done;

He saw rebellion there begun. 'Come hither, boy

I mark thee

what, no reply ? and I know thee too; But there be deeds thou dar'st not do: But if thy beard had manlier length, And if thy hand had skill and strength, I'd joy to see thee break a lance, Albeit against my own perchance.'

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 askance

And 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 little 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 life
I would not trust that look or tone:
No, nor the blood so near my own.
That blood he hath not heard

I'll watch him closer than before.

-no

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Such to my longing sight art thou; Nor can they waft to Mecca's shrine More thanks for life, than I for thine, Who blest thy birth and bless thee now.'

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; 200 But yet the line of Carasman Unchanged, unchangeable hath stood First of the bold Timariot bands That won and well can keep their lands. Enough that he who comes to woo Is kinsman of the Bey Oglou:

His years need scarce a thought employ;

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I would not have thee wed a boy.
And thou shalt have a noble dower:
And his and my united power
Will laugh to scorn the death-firman,
Which others tremble but to scan,
And teach the messenger what fate
The bearer of such boon may wait.
And now thou know'st thy father's will;
All that thy sex hath need to know:
'Twas mine to teach obedience still

The way to love, thy lord may show.'

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His head was leant upon his hand,

His eye look'd o'er the dark blue water That swiftly glides and gently swells Between the winding Dardanelles; But yet he saw nor sea nor strand, Nor even his Pacha's turban'd band

Mix in the game of mimic slaughter, Careering cleave the folded felt With sabre stroke right sharply dealt; Nor mark'd the javelin-darting crowd, 250 Nor heard their Ollahs wild and loudHe thought but of old Giaffir's daughter!

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No word from Selim's bosom broke; One sigh Zuleika's thought bespoke: Still gazed he through the lattice grate, Pale, mute, and mournfully sedate. To him Zuleika's eye was turn'd, But little from his aspect learn'd; Equal her grief, yet not the same; Her heart confess'd a gentler flame: But yet that heart, alarm'd or weak, She knew not why, forbade to speak. Yet speak she must-but when essay 'How strange he thus should turn away! Not thus we e'er before have met; Not thus shall be our parting yet.' Thrice paced she slowly through the room, And watch'd his eye-it still was fix'd: She snatch'd the urn wherein was mix'd The Persian Atar-gul's perfume, And sprinkled all its odours o'er The pictured roof 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. 'What, sullen yet? it must not be Oh! gentle Selim, this from thee!' She saw in curious order set

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The fairest flowers of eastern land'He loved them once; may touch them yet, If offer'd by Zuleika's hand.' The childish thought was hardly breathed

Before the Rose was pluck'd and wreathed;

The next fond moment saw her seat
Her fairy form at Selim's feet:
"This rose to calm my brother's cares
A message from the Bulbul bears;