The thought could make even Death forget His icy bondage:—with a bound He springs all bleeding from the ground And grasps his comrade's arm now grown Even feebler, heavier than his own. And up the painful pathway leads, Death gaining on each step he treads. Speed them, thou God, who heardest their vow! They mount—they bleed—oh save them now— The crags are red they've clambered o'er, The rock-weed's dripping with their gore;— Thy blade too, HAFED, false at length, How breaks beneath thy tottering strength! Haste, haste—the voices of the Foe Come near and nearer from below— One effort more—thank Heaven! 'tis past, They've gained the topmost steep at last. And now they touch the temple's walls. Now HAFED sees the Fire divine— When, lo!—his weak, worn comrade falls Dead on the threshold of the shrine. "Alas, brave soul, too quickly fled! "And must I leave thee withering here, "The sport of every ruffian's tread, "The mark for every coward's spear? "No, by yon altar's sacred beams!" He cries and with a strength that seems Not of this world uplifts the frame Of the fallen Chief and toward the flame Bears him along; with death-damp hand The corpse upon the pyre he lays, Then lights the consecrated brand And fires the pile whose sudden blaze Like lightning bursts o'er OMAN'S Sea.— "Now, Freedom's God! I come to Thee," The youth exclaims and with a smile Of triumph vaulting on the pile, In that last effort ere the fires Have harmed one glorious limb expires!

What shriek was that on OMAN'S tide? It came from yonder drifting bark, That just hath caught upon her side The death-light—and again is dark. It is the boat—ah! why delayed?— That bears the wretched Moslem maid; Confided to the watchful care Of a small veteran band with whom Their generous Chieftain would not share The secret of his final doom, But hoped when HINDA safe and free Was rendered to her father's eyes, Their pardon full and prompt would be The ransom of so dear a prize.— Unconscious thus of HAFED'S fate, And proud to guard their beauteous freight, Scarce had they cleared the surfy waves That foam around those frightful caves When the curst war-whoops known so well Came echoing from the distant dell— Sudden each oar, upheld and still, Hung dripping o'er the vessel's side, And driving at the current's will, They rockt along the whispering tide; While every eye in mute dismay Was toward that fatal mountain turned. Where the dim altar's quivering ray As yet all lone and tranquil burned.

Oh! 'tis not, HINDA, in the power Of Fancy's most terrific touch To paint thy pangs in that dread hour— Thy silent agony—'twas such As those who feel could paint too well, But none e'er felt and lived to tell! 'Twas not alone the dreary state Of a lorn spirit crusht by fate, When tho' no more remains to dread The panic chill will not depart;— When tho' the inmate Hope be dead, Her ghost still haunts the mouldering heart; No—pleasures, hopes, affections gone, The wretch may bear and yet live on Like things within the cold rock found Alive when all's congealed around. But there's a blank repose in this, A calm stagnation, that were bliss To the keen, burning, harrowing pain, Now felt thro' all thy breast and brain;— That spasm of terror, mute, intense, That breathless, agonized suspense From whose hot throb whose deadly aching, The heart hath no relief but breaking!

Calm is the wave—heaven's brilliant lights Reflected dance beneath the prow;— Time was when on such lovely nights She who is there so desolate now Could sit all cheerful tho' alone And ask no happier joy than seeing That starlight o'er the waters thrown— No joy but that to make her blest, And the fresh, buoyant sense of Being Which bounds in youth's yet careless breast,— Itself a star not borrowing light But in its own glad essence bright. How different now!—but, hark! again The yell of havoc rings—brave men! In vain with beating hearts ye stand On the bark's edge—in vain each hand Half draws the falchion from its sheath; All's o'er—in rust your blades may lie:— He at whose word they've scattered death Even now this night himself must die! Well may ye look to yon dim tower, And ask and wondering guess what means The battle-cry at this dead hour— Ah! she could tell you—she who leans Unheeded there, pale, sunk, aghast, With brow against the dew-cold mast;— Too well she knows—her more than life, Her soul's first idol and its last Lies bleeding in that murderous strife. But see—what moves upon the height? Some signal!—'tis a torch's light What bodes its solitary glare? In gasping silence toward the Shrine All eyes are turned—thine, HINDA, thine Fix their last fading life-beams there. 'Twas but a moment—fierce and high The death-pile blazed into the sky And far-away o'er rock and flood Its melancholy radiance sent: While HAFED like a vision stood Revealed before the burning pyre. Tall, shadowy, like a Spirit of fire Shrined in its own grand element! "'Tis he!"—the shuddering maid exclaims,— But while she speaks he's seen no more; High burst in air the funeral flames, And IRAN'S hopes and hers are o'er!

One wild, heart-broken shriek she gave; Then sprung as if to reach that blaze Where still she fixt her dying gaze, And gazing sunk into the wave.— Deep, deep,—where never care or pain Shall reach her innocent heart again!

* * * * *

Farewell—farewell to thee. ARABY'S daughter! (Thus warbled a PERI beneath the dark sea,) No pearl ever lay under OMAN'S green water More pure in its shell than thy Spirit in thee.

Oh! fair as the sea-flower close to thee growing, How light was thy heart till Love's witchery came, Like the wind of the south[266] o'er a summer lute blowing, And husht all its music and withered its frame!

But long upon ARABY'S green sunny highlands Shall maids and their lovers remember the doom Of her who lies sleeping among the Pearl Islands With naught but the sea-star[267] to light up her tomb.

And still when the merry date-season is burning And calls to the palm-groves the young and the old, The happiest there from their pastime returning At sunset will weep when thy story is told.

The young village-maid when with flowers she dresses Her dark flowing hair for some festival day Will think of thy fate till neglecting her tresses She mournfully turns from the mirror away.

Nor shall IRAN, beloved of her Hero! forget thee— Tho' tyrants watch over her tears as they start, Close, close by the side of that Hero she'll set thee, Embalmed in the innermost shrine of her heart.

Farewell—be it ours to embellish thy pillow With everything beauteous that grows in the deep; Each flower of the rock and each gem of the billow Shall sweeten thy bed and illumine thy sleep.

Around thee shall glisten the loveliest amber That ever the sorrowing sea-bird has wept;[268] With many a shell in whose hollow-wreathed chamber We Peris of Ocean by moonlight have slept.

We'll dive where the gardens of coral lie darkling And plant all the rosiest stems at thy head; We'll seek where the sands of the Caspian[269] are sparkling And gather their gold to strew over thy bed.

Farewell—farewell!—Until Pity's sweet fountain Is lost in the hearts of the fair and the brave, They'll weep for the Chieftain who died on that mountain, They'll weep for the Maiden who sleeps in this wave.

The singular placidity with which FADLADEEN had listened during the latter part of this obnoxious story surprised the Princess and FERAMORZ exceedingly; and even inclined towards him the hearts of these unsuspicious young persons who little knew the source of a complacency so marvellous. The truth was he had been organizing for the last few days a most notable plan of persecution against the poet in consequence of some passages that had fallen from him on the second evening of recital,—which appeared to this worthy Chamberlain to contain language and principles for which nothing short of the summary criticism of the Chabuk[270] would be advisable. It was his intention therefore immediately on their arrival at Cashmere to give information to the King of Bucharia of the very dangerous sentiments of his minstrel; and if unfortunately that monarch did not act with suitable vigor on the occasion, (that is, if he did not give the Chabuk to FERAMORZ and a place to FADLADEEN.) there would be an end, he feared, of all legitimate government in Bucharia. He could not help however auguring better both for himself and the cause of potentates in general; and it was the pleasure arising from these mingled anticipations that diffused such unusual satisfaction through his features and made his eyes shine out like poppies of the desert over the wide and lifeless wilderness of that countenance.

Having decided upon the Poet's chastisement in this manner he thought it but humanity to spare him the minor tortures of criticism. Accordingly when they assembled the following evening in the pavilion and LALLA ROOKH was expecting to see all the beauties of her bard melt away one by one in the acidity of criticism, like pearls in the cup of the Egyptian queen.— he agreeably disappointed her by merely saying with an ironical smile that the merits of such a poem deserved to be tried at a much higher tribunal; and then suddenly passed off into a panegyric upon all Mussulman sovereigns, more particularly his august and Imperial master, Aurungzebe, —the wisest and best of the descendants of Timur,—who among other great things he had done for mankind had given to him, FADLADEEN, the very profitable posts of Betel-carrier and Taster of Sherbets to the Emperor, Chief Holder of the Girdle of Beautiful Forms,[271] and Grand Nazir or Chamberlain of the Haram.

They were now not far from that Forbidden River[272] beyond which no pure Hindoo can pass, and were reposing for a time in the rich valley of Hussun Abdaul, which had always been a favorite resting-place of the Emperors in their annual migrations to Cashmere. Here often had the Light of the Faith, Jehan-Guire, been known to wander with his beloved and beautiful Nourmahal, and here would LALLA ROOKH have been happy to remain for ever, giving up the throne of Bucharia and the world for FERAMORZ and love in this sweet, lonely valley. But the time was now fast approaching when she must see him no longer,—or, what was still worse, behold him with eyes whose every look belonged to another, and there was a melancholy preciousness in these last moments, which made her heart cling to them as it would to life. During the latter part of the journey, indeed, she had sunk into a deep sadness from which nothing but the presence of the young minstrel could awake her. Like those lamps in tombs which only light up when the air is admitted, it was only at his approach that her eyes became smiling and animated. But here in this dear valley every moment appeared an age of pleasure; she saw him all day and was therefore all day happy,— resembling, she often thought, that people of Zinge[273] who attribute the unfading cheerfulness they enjoy to one genial star that rises nightly over their heads.[274]

The whole party indeed seemed in their liveliest mood during the few days they passed in this delightful solitude. The young attendants of the Princess who were here allowed a much freer range than they could safely be indulged with in a less sequestered place ran wild among the gardens and bounded through the meadows lightly as young roes over the aromatic plains of Tibet. While FADLADEEN, in addition to the spiritual comfort derived by him from a pilgrimage to the tomb of the Saint from whom the valley is named, had also opportunities of indulging in a small way his taste for victims by putting to death some hundreds of those unfortunate little lizards,[275] which all pious Mussulmans make it a point to kill;— taking for granted that the manner in which the creature hangs its head is meant as a mimicry of the attitude in which the Faithful say their prayers.

About two miles from Hussun Abdaul were those Royal Gardens which had grown beautiful under the care of so many lovely eyes, and were beautiful still though those eyes could see them no longer. This place, with its flowers and its holy silence interrupted only by the dipping of the wings of birds in its marble basins filled with the pure water of those hills, was to LALLA ROOKH all that her heart could fancy of fragrance, coolness, and almost heavenly tranquillity. As the Prophet said of Damascus, "it was too delicious;"[276]—and here in listening to the sweet voice of FERAMORZ or reading in his eyes what yet he never dared to tell her, the most exquisite moments of her whole life were passed. One evening when they had been talking of the Sultana Nourmahal, the Light of the Haram, [277] who had so often wandered among these flowers, and fed with her own hands in those marble basins the small shining fishes of which she was so fond,—the youth in order to delay the moment of separation proposed to recite a short story or rather rhapsody of which this adored Sultana was the heroine. It related, he said, to the reconcilement of a sort of lovers' quarrel which took place between her and the Emperor during a Feast of Roses at Cashmere; and would remind the Princess of that difference between Haroun-al-Raschid and his fair mistress Marida, which was so happily made up by the soft strains of the musician Moussali. As the story was chiefly to be told in song and FERAMORZ had unluckily forgotten his own lute in the valley, he borrowed the vina of LALLA ROOKH'S little Persian slave, and thus began:—

THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM.

Who has not heard of the Vale of CASHMERE, With its roses the brightest that earth ever gave,[278] Its temples and grottos and fountains as clear As the love-lighted eyes that hang over their wave?

Oh! to see it at sunset,—when warm o'er the Lake Its splendor at parting a summer eve throws, Like a bride full of blushes when lingering to take A last look of her mirror at night ere she goes!— When the shrines thro' the foliage are gleaming half shown, And each hallows the hour by some rites of its own. Here the music of prayer from a minaret swells, Here the Magian his urn full of perfume is swinging, And here at the altar a zone of sweet bells Round the waist of some fair Indian dancer is ringing.[279] Or to see it by moonlight when mellowly shines The light o'er its palaces, gardens, and shrines, When the water-falls gleam like a quick fall of stars And the nightingale's hymn from the Isle of Chenars Is broken by laughs and light echoes of feet From the cool, shining walks where the young people meet.— Or at morn when the magic of daylight awakes A new wonder each minute as slowly it breaks, Hills, cupolas, fountains, called forth every one Out of darkness as if but just born of the Sun. When the Spirit of Fragrance is up with the day From his Haram of night-flowers stealing away; And the wind full of wantonness wooes like a lover The young aspen-trees,[280] till they tremble all over. When the East is as warm as the light of first hopes, And day with his banner of radiance unfurled Shines in thro' the mountainous portal[281] that opes, Sublime, from that Valley of bliss to the world!

But never yet by night or day, In dew of spring or summer's ray, Did the sweet Valley shine so gay As now it shines—all love and light, Visions by day and feasts by night! A happier smile illumes each brow; With quicker spread each heart uncloses, And all is ecstasy—for now The Valley holds its Feast of Roses;[282] The joyous Time when pleasures pour Profusely round and in their shower Hearts open like the Season's Rose,— The Floweret of a hundred leaves[283] Expanding while the dew-fall flows And every leaf its balm receives.

'Twas when the hour of evening came Upon the Lake, serene and cool, When day had hid his sultry flame Behind the palms of BARAMOULE, When maids began to lift their heads. Refresht from their embroidered beds Where they had slept the sun away, And waked to moonlight and to play. All were abroad:—the busiest hive On BELA'S[284] hills is less alive When saffron-beds are full in flower, Than lookt the Valley in that hour. A thousand restless torches played Thro' every grove and island shade; A thousand sparkling lamps were set On every dome and minaret; And fields and pathways far and near Were lighted by a blaze so clear That you could see in wandering round The smallest rose-leaf on the ground, Yet did the maids and matrons leave Their veils at home, that brilliant eve; And there were glancing eyes about And cheeks that would not dare shine out In open day but thought they might Look lovely then, because 'twas night. And all were free and wandering And all exclaimed to all they met, That never did the summer bring So gay a Feast of Roses yet;— The moon had never shed a light So clear as that which blest them there; The roses ne'er shone half so bright, Nor they themselves lookt half so fair.

And what a wilderness of flowers! It seemed as tho' from all the bowers And fairest fields of all the year, The mingled spoil were scattered here. The lake too like a garden breathes With the rich buds that o'er it lie,— As if a shower of fairy wreaths Had fallen upon it from the sky! And then the sounds of joy,—the beat Of tabors and of dancing feet;— The minaret-crier's chant of glee Sung from his lighted gallery,[285] And answered by a ziraleet From neighboring Haram, wild and sweet;— The merry laughter echoing From gardens where the silken swing[286] Wafts some delighted girl above The top leaves of the orange-grove; Or from those infant groups at play Among the tents[287] that line the way, Flinging, unawed by slave or mother, Handfuls of roses at each other.— Then the sounds from the Lake,—the low whispering in boats, As they shoot thro' the moonlight,—the dipping of oars And the wild, airy warbling that everywhere floats Thro' the groves, round the islands, as if all the shores Like those of KATHAY uttered music and gave An answer in song to the kiss on each wave.[288] But the gentlest of all are those sounds full of feeling That soft from the lute of some lover are stealing,— Some lover who knows all the heart-touching power Of a lute and a sigh in this magical hour. Oh! best of delights as it everywhere is To be near the loved One,—what a rapture is his Who in moonlight and music thus sweetly may glide O'er the Lake of CASHMERE with that One by his side!

If woman can make the worst wilderness dear, Think, think what a Heaven she must make of CASHMERE!

So felt the magnificent Son of ACBAR, When from power and pomp and the trophies of war He flew to that Valley forgetting them all With the Light of the HARAM, his young NOURMAHAL. When free and uncrowned as the Conqueror roved By the banks of that Lake with his only beloved He saw in the wreaths she would playfully snatch From the hedges a glory his crown could not match, And preferred in his heart the least ringlet that curled Down her exquisite neck to the throne of the world.

There's a beauty for ever unchangingly bright, Like the long, sunny lapse of a summer-day's light, Shining on, shining on, by no shadow made tender Till Love falls asleep in its sameness of splendor. This was not the beauty—oh, nothing like this That to young NOURMAHAL gave such magic of bliss! But that loveliness ever in motion which plays Like the light upon autumn's soft shadowy days, Now here and now there, giving warmth as it flies From the lip to the cheek, from the cheek to the eyes; Now melting in mist and now breaking in gleams, Like the glimpses a saint hath of Heaven in his dreams. When pensive it seemed as if that very grace, That charm of all others, was born with her face! And when angry,—for even in the tranquillest climes Light breezes will ruffle the blossoms sometimes— The short, passing anger but seemed to awaken New beauty like flowers that are sweetest when shaken. If tenderness touched her, the dark of her eye At once took a darker, a heavenlier dye, From the depth of whose shadow like holy revealings From innermost shrines came the light of her feelings. Then her mirth—oh! 'twas sportive as ever took wing From the heart with a burst like the wild-bird in spring; Illumed by a wit that would fascinate sages, Yet playful as Peris just loosed from their cages.[289] While her laugh full of life, without any control But the sweet one of gracefulness, rung from her soul; And where it most sparkled no glance could discover, In lip, cheek, or eyes, for she brightened all over,— Like any fair lake that the breeze is upon When it breaks into dimples and, laughs in the sun. Such, such were the peerless enchantments that gave NOURMAHAL the proud Lord of the East for her slave: And tho' bright was his Haram,—a living parterre Of the flowers[290] of this planet—tho' treasures were there, For which SOLIMAN'S self might have given all the store That the navy from OPHIR e'er winged to his shore, Yet dim before her were the smiles of them all And the Light of his Haram was young NOURMAHAL!

But where is she now, this night of joy, When bliss is every heart's employ?— When all around her is so bright, So like the visions of a trance, That one might think, who came by chance Into the vale this happy night, He saw that City of Delight[291] In Fairy-land, whose streets and towers Are made of gems and light and flowers! Where is the loved Sultana? where, When mirth brings out the young and fair, Does she, the fairest, hide her brow In melancholy stillness now?

Alas!—how light a cause may move Dissension between hearts that love! Hearts that the world in vain had tried And sorrow but more closely tied; That stood the storm when waves were rough Yet in a sunny hour fall off, Like ships that have gone down at sea When heaven was all tranquillity! A something light as air—a look, A word unkind or wrongly taken— Oh! love that tempests never shook, A breath, a touch like this hath shaken.

And ruder words will soon rush in To spread the breach that words begin; And eyes forget the gentle ray They wore in courtship's smiling day; And voices lose the tone that shed A tenderness round all they said; Till fast declining one by one The sweetnesses of love are gone, And hearts so lately mingled seem Like broken clouds,—or like the stream That smiling left the mountain's brow As tho' its waters ne'er could sever, Yet ere it reach the plain below, Breaks into floods that part for ever.

Oh, you that have the charge of Love, Keep him in rosy bondage bound, As in the Fields of Bliss above He sits with flowerets fettered round;— Loose not a tie that round him clings. Nor ever let him use his wings; For even an hour, a minute's flight Will rob the plumes of half their light. Like that celestial bird whose nest Is found beneath far Eastern skies, Whose wings tho' radiant when at rest Lose all their glory when he flies![292]

Some difference of this dangerous kind,— By which, tho' light, the links that bind The fondest hearts may soon be riven; Some shadow in Love's summer heaven, Which, tho' a fleecy speck at first May yet in awful thunder burst;— Such cloud it is that now hangs over The heart of the Imperial Lover, And far hath banisht from his sight His NOURMAHAL, his Haram's Light! Hence is it on this happy night When Pleasure thro' the fields and groves Has let loose all her world of loves And every heart has found its own He wanders joyless and alone And weary as that bird of Thrace Whose pinion knows no resting place.[293]

In vain the loveliest cheeks and eyes This Eden of the Earth supplies Come crowding round—the cheeks are pale, The eyes are dim:—tho' rich the spot With every flower this earth has got What is it to the nightingale If there his darling rose is not?[294] In vain the Valley's smiling throng Worship him as he moves along; He heeds them not—one smile of hers Is worth a world of worshippers. They but the Star's adorers are, She is the Heaven that lights the Star!

Hence is it too that NOURMAHAL, Amid the luxuries of this hour, Far from the joyous festival Sits in her own sequestered bower, With no one near to soothe or aid, But that inspired and wondrous maid, NAMOUNA, the Enchantress;—one O'er whom his race the golden sun For unremembered years has run, Yet never saw her blooming brow Younger or fairer than 'tis now. Nay, rather,—as the west wind's sigh Freshens the flower it passes by,— Time's wing but seemed in stealing o'er To leave her lovelier than before. Yet on her smiles a sadness hung, And when as oft she spoke or sung Of other worlds there came a light From her dark eyes so strangely bright That all believed nor man nor earth Were conscious of NAMOUNA'S birth! All spells and talismans she knew, From the great Mantra,[295] which around The Air's sublimer Spirits drew, To the gold gems[296] of AFRIC, bound Upon the wandering Arab's arm To keep him from the Siltim's[297] harm. And she had pledged her powerful art,— Pledged it with all the zeal and heart Of one who knew tho' high her sphere, What 'twas to lose a love so dear,— To find some spell that should recall Her Selim's[298] smile to NOURMAHAL!

'Twas midnight—thro' the lattice wreathed With woodbine many a perfume breathed From plants that wake when others sleep. From timid jasmine buds that keep Their odor to themselves all day But when the sunlight dies away Let the delicious secret out To every breeze that roams about;— When thus NAMOUNA:—"'Tis the hour "That scatters spells on herb and flower, "And garlands might be gathered now, "That twined around the sleeper's brow "Would make him dream of such delights, "Such miracles and dazzling sights "As Genii of the Sun behold "At evening from their tents of gold "Upon the horizon—where they play "Till twilight comes and ray by ray "Their sunny mansions melt away. "Now too a chaplet might be wreathed "Of buds o'er which the moon has breathed, "Which worn by her whose love has strayed "Might bring some Peri from the skies, "Some sprite, whose very soul is made "Of flowerets' breaths and lovers' sighs, "And who might tell"— "For me, for me," Cried NOURMAHAL impatiently,— "Oh! twine that wreath for me to-night." Then rapidly with foot as light As the young musk-roe's out she flew To cull each shining leaf that grew Beneath the moonlight's hallowing beams For this enchanted Wreath of Dreams. Anemones and Seas of Gold,[299] And new-blown lilies of the river, And those sweet flowerets that unfold Their buds on CAMADEVA'S quiver;[300]— The tuberose, with her silvery light, That in the Gardens of Malay Is called the Mistress of the Night,[301] So like a bride, scented and bright, She comes out when the sun's away:— Amaranths such as crown the maids That wander thro' ZAMARA'S shades;[302]— And the white moon-flower as it shows, On SERENDIB'S high crags to those Who near the isle at evening sail, Scenting her clove-trees in the gale; In short all flowerets and all plants, From the divine Amrita tree[303] That blesses heaven's habitants With fruits of immortality, Down to the basil tuft[304] that waves Its fragrant blossom over graves, And to the humble rosemary Whose sweets so thanklessly are shed To scent the desert[305]and the dead:— All in that garden bloom and all Are gathered by young NOURMAHAL, Who heaps her baskets with the flowers And leaves till they can hold no more; Then to NAMOUNA flies and showers Upon her lap the shining store. With what delight the Enchantress views So many buds bathed with the dews And beams of that blest hour!—her glance Spoke something past all mortal pleasures, As in a kind of holy trance She hung above those fragrant treasures, Bending to drink their balmy airs, As if she mixt her soul with theirs. And 'twas indeed the perfume shed From flowers and scented flame that fed Her charmed life—for none had e'er Beheld her taste of mortal fare, Nor ever in aught earthly dip, But the morn's dew, her roseate lip. Filled with the cool, inspiring smell, The Enchantress now begins her spell, Thus singing as she winds and weaves In mystic form the glittering leaves:—

I know where the winged visions dwell That around the night-bed play; I know each herb and floweret's bell, Where they hide their wings by day. Then hasten we, maid, To twine our braid, To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade.

The image of love that nightly flies To visit the bashful maid, Steals from the jasmine flower that sighs Its soul like her in the shade. The dream of a future, happier hour That alights on misery's brow, Springs out of the silvery almond-flower That blooms on a leafless bough.[306] Then hasten we, maid, To twine our braid, To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade.

The visions that oft to worldly eyes The glitter of mines unfold Inhabit the mountain-herb[307] that dyes The tooth of the fawn like gold. The phantom shapes—oh touch not them— That appal the murderer's sight, Lurk in the fleshly mandrake's stem, That shrieks when pluckt at night! Then hasten we, maid, To twine our braid, To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade.

The dream of the injured, patient mind That smiles at the wrongs of men Is found in the bruised and wounded rind Of the cinnamon, sweetest then. Then hasten we, maid, To twine our braid, To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade.

No sooner was the flowery crown Placed on her head than sleep came down, Gently as nights of summer fall, Upon the lids of NOURMAHAL;— And suddenly a tuneful breeze As full of small, rich harmonies As ever wind that o'er the tents Of AZAB[308] blew was full of scents, Steals on her ear and floats and swells Like the first air of morning creeping Into those wreathy, Red-Sea shells Where Love himself of old lay sleeping;[309] And now a Spirit formed, 'twould seem, Of music and of light,—so fair, So brilliantly his features beam, And such a sound is in the air Of sweetness when he waves his wings,— Hovers around her and thus sings:

From CHINDARA'S[310] warbling fount I come, Called by that moonlight garland's spell; From CHINDARA'S fount, my fairy home, Wherein music, morn and night, I dwell. Where lutes in the air are heard about And voices are singing the whole day long, And every sigh the heart breathes out Is turned, as it leaves the lips, to song! Hither I come From my fairy home, And if there's a magic in Music's strain I swear by the breath Of that moonlight wreath Thy Lover shall sigh at thy feet again.

For mine is the lay that lightly floats And mine are the murmuring, dying notes That fall as soft as snow on the sea And melt in the heart as instantly:— And the passionate strain that, deeply going, Refines the bosom it trembles thro' As the musk-wind over the water blowing Ruffles the wave but sweetens it too.

Mine is the charm whose mystic sway The Spirits of past Delight obey;— Let but the tuneful talisman sound, And they come like Genii hovering round. And mine is the gentle song that bears From soul to soul the wishes of love, As a bird that wafts thro' genial airs The cinnamon-seed from grove to grove.[311]

'Tis I that mingle in one sweet measure The past, the present and future of pleasure; When Memory links the tone that is gone With the blissful tone that's still in the ear; And Hope from a heavenly note flies on To a note more heavenly still that is near.

The warrior's heart when touched by me, Can as downy soft and as yielding be As his own white plume that high amid death Thro' the field has shone—yet moves with a breath! And oh, how the eyes of Beauty glisten. When Music has reached her inward soul, Like the silent stars that wink and listen While Heaven's eternal melodies roll. So hither I come From my fairy home, And if there's a magic in Music's strain, I swear by the breath Of that moonlight wreath Thy Lover shall sigh at thy feet again.

'Tis dawn—at least that earlier dawn Whose glimpses are again withdrawn,[312] As if the morn had waked, and then Shut close her lids of light again. And NOURMAHAL is up and trying The wonders of her lute whose strings— Oh, bliss!—now murmur like the sighing From that ambrosial Spirit's wings. And then her voice—'tis more than human— Never till now had it been given To lips of any mortal woman To utter notes so fresh from heaven; Sweet as the breath of angel sighs When angel sighs are most divine.— "Oh! let it last till night," she cries, "And he is more than ever mine."

And hourly she renews the lay, So fearful lest its heavenly sweetness Should ere the evening fade away,— For things so heavenly have such fleetness! But far from fading it but grows Richer, diviner as it flows; Till rapt she dwells on every string And pours again each sound along, Like echo, lost and languishing, In love with her own wondrous song.

That evening, (trusting that his soul Might be from haunting love released By mirth, by music and the bowl,) The Imperial SELIM held a feast In his magnificent Shalimar:[313]— In whose Saloons, when the first star Of evening o'er the waters trembled, The Valley's loveliest all assembled; All the bright creatures that like dreams Glide thro' its foliage and drink beams Of beauty from its founts and streams;[314] And all those wandering minstrel-maids, Who leave—how can they leave?—the shades Of that dear Valley and are found Singing in gardens of the South[315] Those songs that ne'er so sweetly sound As from a young Cashmerian's mouth.

There too the Haram's inmates smile;— Maids from the West, with sun-bright hair, And from the Garden of the NILE, Delicate as the roses there;[316]— Daughters of Love from CYPRUS rocks, With Paphian diamonds in their locks;[317]— Light PERI forms such as there are On the gold Meads of CANDAHAR;[318] And they before whose sleepy eyes In their own bright Kathaian bowers Sparkle such rainbow butterflies That they might fancy the rich flowers That round them in the sun lay sighing Had been by magic all set flying.[319]

Every thing young, every thing fair From East and West is blushing there, Except—except—oh, NOURMAHAL! Thou loveliest, dearest of them all, The one whose smile shone out alone, Amidst a world the only one; Whose light among so many lights Was like that star on starry nights, The seaman singles from the sky, To steer his bark for ever by! Thou wert not there—so SELIM thought, And every thing seemed drear without thee; But, ah! thou wert, thou wert,—and brought Thy charm of song all fresh about thee, Mingling unnoticed with a band Of lutanists from many a land, And veiled by such a mask as shades The features of young Arab maids,[320]— A mask that leaves but one eye free, To do its best in witchery,— She roved with beating heart around And waited trembling for the minute When she might try if still the sound Of her loved lute had magic in it.

The board was spread with fruits and wine, With grapes of gold, like those that shine On CASBIN hills;[321]—pomegranates full Of melting sweetness, and the pears, And sunniest apples[322] that CAUBUL In all its thousand gardens[323] bears;— Plantains, the golden and the green, MALAYA'S nectared mangusteen;[324] Prunes of BOCKHARA, and sweet nuts From the far groves of SAMARCAND, And BASRA dates, and apricots, Seed of the Sun,[325] from IRAN'S land;— With rich conserve of Visna cherries,[326] Of orange flowers, and of those berries That, wild and fresh, the young gazelles Feed on in ERAC's rocky dells.[327] All these in richest vases smile, In baskets of pure santal-wood, And urns of porcelain from that isle[328] Sunk underneath the Indian flood, Whence oft the lucky diver brings Vases to grace the halls of kings. Wines too of every clime and hue Around their liquid lustre threw; Amber Rosolli,[329]—the bright dew From vineyards of the Green-Sea gushing;[330] And SHIRAZ wine that richly ran As if that jewel large and rare, The ruby for which KUBLAI-KHAN Offered a city's wealth,[331] was blushing Melted within the goblets there!

And amply SELIM quaffs of each, And seems resolved the flood shall reach His inward heart,—shedding around A genial deluge, as they run, That soon shall leave no spot undrowned For Love to rest his wings upon. He little knew how well the boy Can float upon a goblet's streams, Lighting them with his smile of joy;— As bards have seen him in their dreams, Down the blue GANGES laughing glide Upon a rosy lotus wreath,[332] Catching new lustre from the tide That with his image shone beneath.

But what are cups without the aid Of song to speed them as they flow? And see—a lovely Georgian maid With all the bloom, the freshened glow Of her own country maidens' looks, When warm they rise from Teflis' brooks;[333] And with an eye whose restless ray Full, floating, dark—oh, he, who knows His heart is weak, of Heaven should pray To guard him from such eyes as those!— With a voluptuous wildness flings Her snowy hand across the strings Of a syrinda[334] and thus sings:—

Come hither, come hither—by night and by day, We linger in pleasures that never are gone; Like the waves of the summer as one dies away Another as sweet and as shining comes on. And the love that is o'er, in expiring gives birth To a new one as warm, as unequalled in bliss; And, oh! if there be an Elysium on earth, It is this, it is this.[335]

Here maidens are sighing, and fragrant their sigh As the flower of the Amra just oped by a bee;[336] And precious their tears as that rain from the sky,[337] Which turns into pearls as it falls in the sea. Oh! think what the kiss and the smile must be worth When the sigh and the tear are so perfect in bliss, And own if there be an Elysium on earth, It is this, it is this.

Here sparkles the nectar that hallowed by love Could draw down those angels of old from their sphere, Who for wine of this earth[338] left the fountains above, And forgot heaven's stars for the eyes we have here. And, blest with the odor our goblet gives forth, What Spirit the sweets of his Eden would miss? For, oh! if there be an Elysium on earth, It is this, it is this.

The Georgian's song was scarcely mute, When the same measure, sound for sound, Was caught up by another lute And so divinely breathed around That all stood husht and wondering, And turned and lookt into the air, As if they thought to see the wing Of ISRAFIL[339] the Angel there;— So powerfully on every soul That new, enchanted measure stole. While now a voice sweet as the note Of the charmed lute was heard to float Along its chords and so entwine Its sounds with theirs that none knew whether The voice or lute was most divine, So wondrously they went together:—

There's a bliss beyond all that the minstrel has told, When two that are linkt in one heavenly tie, With heart never changing and brow never cold, Love on thro' all ills and love on till they die! One hour of a passion so sacred is worth Whole ages of heartless and wandering bliss; And, oh! if there be an Elysium on earth, It is this, it is this.

'Twas not the air, 'twas not the words, But that deep magic in the chords And in the lips that gave such power As music knew not till that hour. At once a hundred voices said, "It is the maskt Arabian maid!" While SELIM who had felt the strain Deepest of any and had lain Some minutes rapt as in a trance After the fairy sounds were o'er. Too inly touched for utterance, Now motioned with his hand for more:—

Fly to the desert, fly with me, Our Arab's tents are rude for thee; But oh! the choice what heart can doubt, Of tents with love or thrones without? Our rocks are rough, but smiling there The acacia waves her yellow hair, Lonely and sweet nor loved the less For flowering in a wilderness.

Our sands are bare, but down their slope The silvery-footed antelope As gracefully and gayly springs As o'er the marble courts of kings.

Then come—thy Arab maid will be The loved and lone acacia-tree. The antelope whose feet shall bless With their light sound thy loneliness.

Oh! there are looks and tones that dart An instant sunshine thro' the heart,— As if the soul that minute caught Some treasure it thro' life had sought;

As if the very lips and eyes, Predestined to have all our sighs And never be forgot again, Sparkled and spoke before us then!

So came thy every glance and tone, When first on me they breathed and shone, New as if brought from other spheres Yet welcome as if loved for years.

Then fly with me,—if thou hast known No other flame nor falsely thrown A gem away, that thou hadst sworn Should ever in thy heart be worn.

Come if the love thou hast for me Is pure and fresh as mine for thee,— Fresh as the fountain under ground, When first 'tis by the lapwing found.[340]

But if for me thou dost forsake Some other maid and rudely break Her worshipt image from its base, To give to me the ruined place;—

Then fare thee well—I'd rather make My bower upon some icy lake When thawing suns begin to shine Than trust to love so false as thine.

There was a pathos in this lay, That, even without enchantment's art, Would instantly have found its way Deep in to SELIM'S burning heart; But breathing as it did a tone To earthly lutes and lips unknown; With every chord fresh from the touch Of Music's Spirit,—'twas too much! Starting he dasht away the cup,— Which all the time of this sweet air His hand had held, untasted, up, As if 'twere fixt by magic there— And naming her, so long unnamed, So long unseen, wildly exclaimed, "Oh NOURMAHAL! oh NOURMAHAL! "Hadst thou but sung this witching strain, "I could forget—forgive thee all "And never leave those eyes again."

The mask is off—the charm is wrought— And SELIM to his heart has caught, In blushes, more than ever bright, His NOURMAHAL, his Haram's Light! And well do vanisht frowns enhance The charm of every brightened glance; And dearer seems each dawning smile For having lost its light awhile: And happier now for all her sighs As on his arm her head reposes She whispers him, with laughing eyes, "Remember, love, the Feast of Roses!"

FADLADEEN, at the conclusion of this light rhapsody, took occasion to sum up his opinion of the young Cashmerian's poetry,—of which, he trusted, they had that evening heard the last. Having recapitulated the epithets, "frivolous"—"inharmonious"—"nonsensical," he proceeded to say that, viewed in the most favorable light it resembled one of those Maldivian boats, to which the Princess had alluded in the relation of her dream,— a slight, gilded thing, sent adrift without rudder or ballast, and with nothing but vapid sweets and faded flowers on board. The profusion, indeed, of flowers and birds, which this poet had ready on all occasions, —not to mention dews, gems, etc.—was a most oppressive kind of opulence to his hearers; and had the unlucky effect of giving to his style all the glitter of the flower garden without its method, and all the flutter of the aviary without its song. In addition to this, he chose his subjects badly, and was always most inspired by the worst parts of them. The charms of paganism, the merits of rebellion,—these were the themes honored with his particular enthusiasm; and, in the poem just recited, one of his most palatable passages was in praise of that beverage of the Unfaithful, wine;—"being, perhaps," said he, relaxing into a smile, as conscious of his own character in the Haram on this point, "one of those bards, whose fancy owes all its illumination to the grape, like that painted porcelain,[341] so curious and so rare, whose images are only visible when liquor is poured into it." Upon the whole, it was his opinion, from the specimens which they had heard, and which, he begged to say, were the most tiresome part of the journey, that—whatever other merits this well-dressed young gentleman might possess—poetry was by no means his proper avocation; "and indeed," concluded the critic, "from his fondness for flowers and for birds, I would venture to suggest that a florist or a bird-catcher is a much more suitable calling for him than a poet."

They had now begun to ascend those barren mountains, which separate Cashmere from the rest of India; and, as the heats were intolerable, and the time of their encampments limited to the few hours necessary for refreshment and repose, there was an end to all their delightful evenings, and LALLA ROOKH saw no more of FERAMORZ. She now felt that her short dream of happiness was over, and that she had nothing but the recollection of its few blissful hours, like the one draught of sweet water that serves the camel across the wilderness, to be her heart's refreshment during the dreary waste of life that was before her. The blight that had fallen upon her spirits soon found its way to her cheek, and her ladies saw with regret—though not without some suspicion of the cause—that the beauty of their mistress, of which they were almost as proud as of their own, was fast vanishing away at the very moment of all when she had most need of it. What must the King of Bucharia feel, when, instead of the lively and beautiful LALLA ROOKH, whom the poets of Delhi had described as more perfect than the divinest images in the house of AZOR,[342] he should receive a pale and inanimate victim, upon whose cheek neither health nor pleasure bloomed, and from whose eyes Love had fled,—to hide himself in her heart?

If any thing could have charmed away the melancholy of her spirits, it would have been the fresh airs and enchanting scenery of that Valley, which the Persians so justly called the Unequalled.[343] But neither the coolness of its atmosphere, so luxurious after toiling up those bare and burning mountains,—neither the splendor of the minarets and pagodas, that shone put from the depth of its woods, nor the grottoes, hermitages, and miraculous fountains,[344] which make every spot of that region holy ground,—neither the countless waterfalls, that rush into the Valley from all those high and romantic mountains that encircle it, nor the fair city on the Lake, whose houses, roofed with flowers,[345] appeared at a distance like one vast and variegated parterre;—not all these wonders and glories of the most lovely country under the sun could steal her heart for a minute from those sad thoughts which but darkened and grew bitterer every step she advanced.

The gay pomps and processions that met her upon her entrance into the Valley, and the magnificence with which the roads all along were decorated, did honor to the taste and gallantry of the young King. It was night when they approached the city, and, for the last two miles, they had passed under arches, thrown from hedge to hedge, festooned with only those rarest roses from which the Attar Gul, more precious than gold, is distilled, and illuminated in rich and fanciful forms with lanterns of the triple-colored tortoise-shell of Pegu.[346] Sometimes, from a dark wood by the side of the road, a display of fireworks would break out, so sudden and so brilliant, that a Brahmin might fancy he beheld that grove, in whose purple shade the God of Battles was born, bursting into a flame at the moment of his birth;—while, at other times, a quick and playful irradiation continued to brighten all the fields and gardens by which they passed, forming a line of dancing lights along the horizon; like the meteors of the north as they are seen by those hunters who pursue the white and blue foxes on the confines of the Icy Sea.

These arches and fireworks delighted the Ladies of the Princess exceedingly; and, with their usual good logic, they deduced from his taste for illuminations, that the King of Bucharia would make the most exemplary husband imaginable. Nor, indeed, could LALLA ROOKH herself help feeling the kindness and splendor with which the young bridegroom welcomed her;—but she also felt how painful is the gratitude which kindness from those we cannot love excites; and that their best blandishments come over the heart with all that chilling and deadly sweetness which we can fancy in the cold, odoriferous wind[347] that is to blow over this earth in the last days.

The marriage was fixed for the morning after her arrival, when she was, for the first time, to be presented to the monarch in that Imperial Palace beyond the lake, called the Shalimar. Though never before had a night of more wakeful and anxious thought been passed in the Happy Valley, yet, when she rose in the morning, and her Ladies came around her, to assist in the adjustment of the bridal ornaments, they thought they had never seen her look half so beautiful. What she had lost of the bloom and radiancy of her charms was more than made up by that intellectual expression, that soul beaming forth from the eyes, which is worth all the rest of loveliness. When they had tinged her fingers with the Henna leaf, and placed upon her brow a small coronet of jewels, of the shape worn by the ancient Queens of Bucharia, they flung over her head the rose-colored bridal veil, and she proceeded to the barge that was to convey her across the lake;—first kissing, with a mournful look, the little amulet of cornelian, which her father at parting had hung about her neck.

The morning was as fresh and fair as the maid on whose nuptials it rose, and the shining lake, all covered with boats, the minstrels playing upon the shores of the islands, and the crowded summer-houses on the green hills around, with shawls and banners waving from their roofs, presented such a picture of animated rejoicing, as only she, who was the object of it all, did not feel with transport. To LALLA ROOKH alone it was a melancholy pageant; nor could she have even borne to look upon the scene, were it not for a hope that among the crowds around, she might once more perhaps catch a glimpse of FERAMORZ. So much was her imagination haunted by this thought that there was scarcely an islet or boat she passed on the way at which her heart did not flutter with the momentary fancy that he was there. Happy, in her eyes, the humblest slave upon whom the light of his dear looks fell!—In the barge immediately after the Princess sat FADLADEEN, with his silken curtains thrown widely apart, that all might have the benefit of his august presence, and with his head full of the speech he was to deliver to the King, "concerning FERAMORZ and literature and the Chabuk as connected therewith."

They now had entered the canal which leads from the Lake to the splendid domes and saloons of the Shalimar and went gliding on through the gardens that ascended from each bank, full of flowering shrubs that made the air all perfume; while from the middle of the canal rose jets of water, smooth and unbroken, to such a dazzling height that they stood like tall pillars of diamond in the sunshine. After sailing under the arches of various saloons they at length arrived at the last and most magnificent, where the monarch awaited the coming of his bride; and such was the agitation of her heart and frame that it was with difficulty she could walk up the marble steps which were covered with cloth of gold for her ascent from the barge. At the end of the hall stood two thrones, as precious as the Cerulean Throne of Koolburga,[348] on one of which sat ALIRIS, the youthful King of Bucharia, and on the other was in a few minutes to be placed the most beautiful Princess in the world. Immediately upon the entrance of LALLA ROOKH into the saloon the monarch descended from his throne to meet her; but scarcely had he time to take her hand in his when she screamed with surprise and fainted at his feet. It was FERAMORZ, himself, who stood before her! FERAMORZ, was, himself, the Sovereign of Bucharia, who in this disguise had accompanied his young bride from Delhi, and having won her love as an humble minstrel now amply deserved to enjoy it as a King.

The consternation of FADLADEEN at this discovery was, for the moment, almost pitiable. But change of opinion is a resource too convenient in courts for this experienced courtier not to have learned to avail himself of it. His criticisms were all, of course, recanted instantly: he was seized with an admiration of the King's verses, as unbounded as, he begged him to believe, it was disinterested; and the following week saw him in possession of an additional place, swearing by all the Saints of Islam that never had there existed so great a poet as the Monarch ALIRIS, and moreover ready to prescribe his favorite regimen of the Chabuk for every man, woman and child that dared to think otherwise.

Of the happiness of the King and Queen of Bucharia, after such a beginning, there can be but little doubt; and among the lesser symptoms it is recorded of LALLA ROOKH that to the day of her death in memory of their delightful journey she never called the King by any other name than FERAMORZ.

[1] These particulars of the visit of the King of Bucharia to Aurungzebe are found in Dow's "History of Hindostan," vol. iii. p. 392.

[2] Tulip cheek.

[3] The mistress of Mejnoun, upon whose story so many Romances in all the languages of the East are founded.

[4] For the loves of this celebrated beauty with Khosrou and with Ferhad, see D'Herbelot, Gibbon, Oriental Collections, etc.

[5] "The history of the loves of Dewilde and Chizer, the son of the Emperor Alla, is written in an elegant poem, by the noble Chusero."—- Ferishta.

[6] Gul Reazee.

[7] "One mark of honor or knighthood bestowed by the Emperor is the permission to wear a small kettle-drum at the bows of their saddles, which at first was invented for the training of hawks, and to call them to the lure, and is worn in the field by all sportsmen to that end."—Fryer's Travels. "Those on whom the King has conferred the privilege must wear an ornament of jewels on the right side of the turban, surmounted by a high plume of the feathers of a kind of egret. This bird is found only in Cashmere, and the feathers are carefully collected for the King, who bestows them on his nobles."—Elphinstone's Account of Cabul.

[8] "Khedar Khan, the Khakan, or King of Turquestan beyond the Gibon (at the end of the eleventh century), whenever he appeared abroad was preceded by seven hundred horsemen with silver battle-axes, and was followed by an equal number bearing maces of gold. He was a great patron of poetry, and it was he who used to preside at public exercises of genius, with four basins of gold and silver by him to distribute among the poets who excelled."—Richardson's Dissertation prefixed to his Dictionary.

[9] "The kubdeh, a large golden knob, generally in the shape of a pine- apple, on the top of the canopy over the litter or palanquin."—Scott's Notes on the Bahardanush.

[10] In the Poem of Zohair, in the Moallakat, there is the following lively description of "a company of maidens seated on camels." "They are mounted in carriages covered with costly awnings, and with rose-colored veils, the linings of which have the hue of crimson Andem-wood. "When they ascend from the bosom of the vale, they sit forward on the saddlecloth, with every mark of a voluptuous gayety. "Now, When they have reached the brink of yon blue-gushing rivulet, they fix the poles of their tents like the Arab with a settled mansion."

[11] See Bernier's description of the attendants on Rauchanara Begum, in her progress to Cashmere.

[12] This hypocritical Emperor would have made a worthy associate of certain Holy Leagues.—"He held the cloak of religion [says Dow] between his actions and the vulgar; and impiously thanked the Divinity for a success which he owed to his own wickedness. When he was murdering and persecuting his brothers and their families, he was building a magnificent mosque at Delhi, as an offering to God for his assistance to him in the civil wars. He acted as high priest at the consecration of this temple; and made a practice of attending divine service there, in the humble dress of a Fakeer. But when he lifted one hand to the Divinity, he, with the other, signed warrants for the assassination of his relations."—"History of Hindostan,". vol. iii. p.335. See also the curious letter of Aurungzebe, given in the Oriental Collections, vol. i. p.320.

[13] "The idol at Jaghernat has two fine diamonds for eyes. No goldsmith is suffered to enter the Pagoda, one having stole one of these eyes, being locked up all night with the Idol."—Tavernier.

[14] See a description of these royal Gardens in "An Account of the present State of Delhi, by Lieut. W. Franklin."—Asiat. Research, vol. iv. p. 417.

[15] "In the neighborhood is Notte Gill, or the Lake of Pearl, which receives this name from its pellucid water."—Pennant's "Hindostan." "Nasir Jung encamped in the vicinity of the Lake of Tonoor, amused himself with sailing on that clear and beautiful water, and gave it the fanciful name of Motee Talah, 'the Lake of Pearls,' which it still retains."— Wilks's "South of India."

[16] Sir Thomas Roe, Ambassador from James I. to Jehanguire.

[17] "The romance Wemakweazra, written in Persian verse, which contains the loves of Wamak and Ezra, two celebrated lovers who lived before the time of Mahomet."—Note on the Oriental Tales.

[18] Their amour is recounted in the Shah-Nameh of Ferdousi; and there is much beauty in the passage which describes the slaves of Rodahver sitting on the bank of the river and throwing flowers into the stream, in order to draw the attention of the young Hero who is encamped on the opposite side.—See Champion's translation.

[19] Rustam is the Hercules of the Persians. For the particulars of his victory over the Sepeed Deeve, or White Demon, see Oriental Collections, vol. ii. p. 45.—Near the city of Shiraz is an immense quadrangular monument, in commemoration of this combat, called the Kelaat-i-Deev Sepeed, or castle of the White Giant, which Father Angelo, in his "Gazophilacium Persicum," p.127, declares to have been the most memorable monument of antiquity which he had seen in Persia.—See Ouseley's "Persian Miscellanies."

[20] "The women of the Idol, or dancing girls of the Pagoda, have little golden bells, fastened to their feet, the soft harmonious tinkling of which vibrates in unison with the exquisite melody of their voices."— Maurice's "Indian Antiquities."

"The Arabian courtesans, like the Indian women, have little golden bells fastened round their legs, neck, and elbows, to the sound of which they dance before the King. The Arabian princesses wear golden rings on their fingers, to which little bells are suspended, as well as in the flowing tresses of their hair, that their superior rank may be known and they themselves receive in passing the homage due to them."—See Calmet's Dictionary, art. "Bells."

[21] The Indian Apollo.— "He and the three Ramas are described as youths of perfect beauty, and the princesses of Hindustan were all passionately in love with Chrishna, who continues to this hour the darling God of the Indan women."—Sir W. Jones, on the Gods of Greece, Italy, and India.

[22] See Turner's Embassy for a description of this animal, "the most beautiful among the whole tribe of goats." The material for the shawls (which is carried to Cashmere) is found next the skin.

[23] For the real history of this Impostor, whose original name was Hakem ben Haschem, and who was called Mocanna from the veil of silver gauze (or, as others say, golden) which he always wore, see D'Herbelot.

[24] Khorassan signifies, in the old Persian language, Province or Region of the Sun.—Sir W. Jones.

[25] "The fruits of Meru are finer than those of any other place: and one cannot see in any other city such palaces with groves, and streams, and gardens."—Ebn Haukal's Geography.

[26] One of the royal cities of Khorassan.

[27] Moses.

[28] Black was the color adopted by the Caliphs of the House of Abbas, in their garments, turbans, and standards.

[29] "Our dark javelins, exquisitely wrought of Khathaian reeds, slender and delicate."—Poem of Amru.

[30] Pichula, used anciently for arrows by the Persians.

[31] The Persians call this plant Gaz. The celebrated shaft of Isfendiar, one of their ancient heroes, was made of it.—"Nothing can be more beautiful than the appearance of this plant in flower during the rains on the banks of rivers, where it is usually interwoven with a lovely twining asclepias."—Sir W. Jones..

[32] The oriental plane. "The chenar is a delightful tree; its bole is of a fine white and smooth bark; and its foliage, which grows in a tuft at the summit, is of a bright green."—Morier's Travels..

[33] The burning fountains of Brahma near Chittogong, esteemed as holy.—Turner.

[34] China.

[35] "The name of tulip is said to be of Turkish extraction, and given to the flower on account of its resembling a turban."—Beckmann's History of Inventions.

[36] "The inhabitants of Bucharia wear a round cloth bonnet, shaped much after the Polish fashion, having a large fur border. They tie their kaftans about the middle with a girdle of a kind of silk crape, several times round the body."—Account of Independent Tartary, in Pinkerton's Collection.

[37] In the war of the Caliph Mahadi against the Empress Irene, for an account of which vide Gibbon, vol. x.

[38] When Soliman travelled, the eastern writers say, "He had a carpet of green silk on which his throne was placed, being of a prodigious length and breadth, and sufficient for all his forces to stand upon, the men placing themselves on his right hand, and the spirits on his left; and that when all were in order, the wind, at his command, took up the carpet, and transported it, with all that were upon it, wherever he pleased; the army of birds at the same time flying over their heads, and forming a kind of canopy to shade them from the sun."—Sale's Koran, vol. ii. p. 214, note.

[39] The transmigration of souls was one of his doctrines.—Vide D'Herbelot..

[40] "And when we said unto the angels. Worship Adam, they all worshipped him except Eblis (Lucifer), who refused." The. Koran, chap. ii.

[41] Moses.

[42] Jesus.

[43] The Amu, which rises in the Belur Tag, or Dark Mountains, and running nearly from east to west, splits into two branches; one of which falls into the Caspian Sea, and the other into Aral Nahr, or the Lake of Eagles.

[44] The nightingale.

[45] The cities of Com (or Koom) and Cashan are full of mosques, mausoleums and sepulchres of the descendants of Ali, the Saints of Persia —Chardin..

[46] An island in the Persian Gulf, celebrated for its white wine.

[47] The miraculous well at Mecca: so called, says Sale, from the murmuring of its waters.

[48] The god Hannaman.—"Apes are in many parts of India highly venerated, out of respect to the God Hannaman, a deity partaking of the form of that race."—Pennant's Hindoostan. See a curious account in Stephen's Persia, of a solemn embassy from some part of the Indies to Goa when the Portuguese were there, offering vast treasures for the recovery of a monkey's tooth, which they held in great veneration, and which had been taken away upon the conquest of the kingdom of Jafanapatan.

[49] A kind of lantern formerly used by robbers, called the Hand of Glory, the candle for which was made of the fat of a dead malefactor. This, however, was rather a western than an eastern superstition.

[50] The material of which images of Gaudma (the Birman Deity) are made, is held sacred. "Birmans may not purchase the marble in mass, but are suffered, and indeed encouraged, to buy figures of the Deity ready made." —Sytnes's "Ava," vol. ii. p. 876.

[51] "It is commonly said in Persia, that if a man breathe in the hot south wind, which in June or July passes over that flower (the Kerzereh), it will kill him."—Thevenot.

[52] The humming bird is said to run this risk for the purpose of picking the crocodile's teeth. The same circumstance is related of the lapwing, as a fact to which he was witness, by Paul Lucas, "Voyage fait en 1714."

The ancient story concerning the Trochilus, or humming-bird, entering with impunity into the mouth of the crocodile, is firmly believed at Java.—Barrow's "Cochin-China."

[53] "The feast of Lanterns celebrated at Yamtcheou with more magnificence than anywhere else! and the report goes that the illuminations there are so splendid, that an Emperor once, not daring openly to leave his Court to go thither, committed himself with the Queen and several Princesses of his family into the hands of a magician, who promised to transport them thither in a trice. He made them in the night to ascend magnificent thrones that were borne up by swans, which in a moment arrived at Yamtcheou. The Emperor saw at his leisure all the solemnity, being carried upon a cloud that hovered over the city and descended by degrees; and came back again with the same speed and equipage, nobody at court perceiving his absence."—The Present State of China," p. 156.

[54] "The vulgar ascribe it to an accident that happened in the family of a famous mandarin, whose daughter, walking one evening upon the shore of a lake, fell in and was drowned: this afflicted father, with his family, ran thither, and the better to find her, he caused a great company of lanterns to be lighted. All the inhabitants of the place thronged after him with torches. The year ensuing they made fires upon the shores the same day; they continued the ceremony every year, every one lighted his lantern, and by degrees it commenced into a custom."—The Present State of China."

[55] "Thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes."—Sol. Song.

[56] "They tinged the ends of her fingers scarlet with Henna, so that they resembled branches of coral."—Story of Prince Futtun in Bahardanush.

[57] "The women blacken the inside of their eyelids with a powder named the black Kohol."—Russell.

"None of these ladies," says Shaw, "take themselves to be completely dressed, till they have tinged their hair and edges of their eyelids with the powder of lead ore. Now, as this operation is performed by dipping first into the powder a small wooden bodkin of the thickness of a quill, and then drawing it afterwards through the eyelids over the ball of the eye, we shall have a lively image of what the Prophet (Jer. iv. 30) may be supposed to mean by rending the eyes with painting. This practice is no doubt of great antiquity; for besides the instance already taken notice of, we find that where Jezebel is said (2 Kings ix. 30.) to have painted her face, the original words are, she adjusted her eyes with the powder of lead-ore."—Shaw's Travels.

[58] "The appearance of the blossoms of the gold-colored Campac on the black hair of the Indian women has supplied the Sanscrit Poets with many elegant allusions."—See Asiatic Researches, vol. iv.

[59] A tree famous for its perfume, and common on the hills of Yemen.—Niebuhr.

[60] Of the genus mimosa "which droops its branches whenever any person approaches it, seeming as if it saluted those who retire under its shade."—Niebuhr.

[61] Cloves are a principal ingredient in the composition of the perfumed rods, which men of rank keep constantly burning in their presence.— Turner's "Tibet."

[62] "Thousands of variegated loories visit the coral-trees."—Barrow.

[63] "In Mecca there are quantities of blue pigeons, which none will affright or abuse, much less kill."—Pitt's Account of the Mahometans.

[64] "The Pagoda Thrush is esteemed among the first choristers of India. It sits perched on the sacred pagodas, and from thence delivers its melodious song."—Pennant's "Hindostan."

[65] Tavernier adds, that while the Birds of Paradise lie in this intoxicated state, the emmets come and eat off their legs; and that hence it is they are said to have no feet.

[66] Birds of Paradise, which, at the nutmeg season, come in flights from the southern isles to India; and "the strength of the nutmeg," says Tavernier, "so intoxicates them that they fall dead drunk to the earth."

[67] "That bird which liveth in Arabia, and buildeth its nest with cinnamon."—Brown's Vulgar Errors.

[68] "The spirits of the martyrs will be lodged in the crops of green birds."—Gibbon, vol. ix. p. 421.

[69] Shedad, who made the delicious gardens of Irim, in imitation of Paradise, and was destroyed by lightning the first time he attempted to enter them.

[70] "My Pandits assure me that the plant before us (the Nilica) is their Sephalica, thus named because the bees are supposed to sleep on its blossoms."—Sir W. Jones.

[71] They deterred it till the King of Flowers should ascend his throne of enamelled foliage."—The Bahardanush".

[72] "One of the head-dresses of the Persian women is composed of a light golden chain-work, set with small pearls, with a thin gold plate pendant, about the bigness of a crown-piece, on which is impressed an Arabian prayer, and which hangs upon the cheek below the ear."—Hanway's Travels.

[73] "Certainly the women of Yezd are the handsomest women in Persia. The proverb is, that to live happy a man must have a wife of Yezd, eat the bread of Yezdecas, and drink the wine of Shiraz."—Tavernier.

[74] Musnuds are cushioned seats, usually reserved for persons of distinction.

[75] The Persians, like the ancient Greeks call their musical modes or Perdas by the names of different countries or cities, as the mode of Isfahan, the mode of Irak, etc.

[76] A river which flows near the ruins of Chilminar.

[77] "To the north of us (on the coast of the Caspian, near Badku,) was a mountain, which sparkled like diamonds, arising from the sea-glass and crystals with which it abounds."—Journey of the Russian Ambassador to Persia, 1746.

[78] "To which will be added, the sound of the bells, hanging on the trees, which will be put in motion by the wind proceeding from the throne of God, as often as the blessed wish for music."—Sale.

[79] "Whose wanton eyes resemble blue water-lilies, agitated by the breeze."—Jayadeva.

[80] The blue lotos, which grows in Cashmere and in Persia.

[81] It has been generally supposed that the Mahometans prohibit all pictures of animals; but Toderini shows that, though the practice is forbidden by the Koran, they are not more averse to painted figures and images than other people. From Mr. Murphy's work, too, we find that the Arabs of Spain had no objection to the introduction of figures into Painting.

[82] This is not quite astronomically true. "Dr. Hadley [says Keil] has shown that Venus is brightest when she is about forty degrees removed from the sun; and that then but only a fourth part of her lucid disk is to be seen from the earth."

[83] The wife of Potiphar, thus named by the Orientals. The passion which this frail beauty of antiquity conceived for her young Hebrew slave has given rise to a much esteemed poem in the Persian language, entitled Yusef vau Zelikha, by Noureddin Jami; the manuscript copy of which, in the Bodleian Library at Oxford, is supposed to be the finest in the whole world."—Note upon Nott's Translation of Hafez."

[84] The particulars of Mahomet's amour with Mary, the Coptic girl, in justification of which he added a new chapter to the Koran, may be found in Gagnier's Notes upon Abulfeda, p. 151.

[85] "Deep blue is their mourning color." Hanway.

[86] The sorrowful nyctanthes, which begins to spread its rich odor after sunset.

[87] "Concerning the vipers, which Pliny says were frequent among the balsam-trees, I made very particular inquiry; several were brought me alive both to Yambo and Jidda."—Bruce.

[88] In the territory of Istkahar there is a kind of apple, half of which is sweet and half sour.—Ebn Haukal.

[89] "The place where the Whangho, a river of Tibet, rises, and where there are more than a hundred springs, which sparkle like stars; whence it is called Hotun-nor, that is, the Sea of Stars."—Description of Tibet in Pinkerton.

[90] "The Lescar or Imperial Camp is divided, like a regular town, into squares, alleys, and streets, and from a rising ground furnishes one of the most agreeable prospects in the world. Starting up in a few hours in an uninhabited plain, it raises the idea of a city built by enchantment. Even those who leave their houses in cities to follow the prince in his progress are frequently so charmed with the Lescar, when situated in a beautiful and convenient place, that they cannot prevail with themselves to remove. To prevent this inconvenience to the court, the Emperor, after sufficient time is allowed to the tradesmen to follow, orders them to be burnt out of their tents."—Dow's Hindostan.

[91] The edifices of Chilminar and Balbec are supposed to have been built by the Genii, acting under the orders of Jan ben Jan, who governed the world long before the time of Adam.

[92] "A superb camel, ornamented with strings and tufts of small shells."—Ali Bey.

[93] A native of Khorassan, and allured southward by means of the water of a fountain between Shiraz and Ispahan, called the Fountain of Birds, of which it is so fond that it will follow wherever that water is carried.

[94] "Some of the camels have bells about their necks, and some about their legs, like those which our carriers put about their fore-horses' necks, which together with the servants (who belong to the camels, and travel on foot), singing all night, make a pleasant noise, and the journey passes away delightfully."—Pitt's Account of the Mahometans.

"The camel-driver follows the camels singing, and sometimes playing upon his pipe; the louder he sings and pipes, the faster the camels go. Nay, they will stand still when he gives over his music."—Tavernier.

[95] "This trumpet is often called, in Abyssinia, nesser cano, which signifies the Note of the Eagle."—Note of Bruce's Editor.

[96] The two black standards borne before the Caliphs of the House of Abbas were called, allegorically, The Night and The Shadow.—See Gibbon.

[97] The Mohometan religion.

[98] "The Persians swear by the Tomb of Shad Besade, who is buried at Casbin; and when one desires another to asseverate a matter he will ask him, if he dare swear by the Holy Grave."—Struy.

[99] Mahadi, in a single pilgrimage to Mecca, expended six millions of dinars of gold.

[100] The inhabitants of Hejaz or Arabia Petraea, called by an Eastern writer "The People of the Rock."—Ebn Haukal.

[101] "Those horses, called by the Arabians Kochlani, of whom a written genealogy has been kept for 2000 years. They are said to derive their origin from King Solomon's steeds."—Niebuhr.

[102] "Many of the figures on the blades of their swords are wrought in gold or silver, or in marquetry with small gems."—Asiat. Misc. v. i.

[103] Azab or Saba.

[104] "The chiefs of the Uzbek Tartars wear a plume of white heron's feathers in their turbans."—Account of Independent Tartary.

[105] In the mountains of Nishapour and Tous in (Khorassan) they find turquoises.—Ebn Huukal.

[106] The Ghebers or Guebres, those original natives of Persia, who adhered to their ancient faith, the religion of Zoroaster, and who, after the conquest of their country by the Arabs, were either persecuted at home, or forced to become wanderers abroad.

[107] "Yezd, the chief residence of those ancient natives who worship the Sun and the Fire, which latter they have carefully kept lighted, without being once extinguished for a moment, about 3000 years, on a mountain near Yezd, called Ater Quedah, signifying the House or Mansion of the Fire. He is reckoned very unfortunate who dies off that mountain."—Stephen's Persia.

[108] When the weather is hazy, the springs of Naphtha (on an island near Baku) boil up the higher, and the Naphtha often takes fire on the surface of the earth, and runs in a flame into the sea to a distance almost incredible."—Hanway on the Everlasting Fire at Baku.

[109] Savary says of the south wind, which blows in Egypt from February to May, "Sometimes it appears only in the shape of an impetuous whirlwind, which passes rapidly, and is fatal to the traveller, surprised in the middle of the deserts. Torrents of burning sand roll before it, the firmament is enveloped in a thick veil, and the sun appears of the color of blood. Sometimes whole caravans are buried in it."

[110] In the great victory gained by Mahomed at Beder, he was assisted, say the Mussulmans, by three thousand angels led by Gabriel mounted on his horse Hiazum.—See The Koran and its Commentators.

[111] The Techir, or cry of the Arabs. "Alla Acbar!" says Ockley, means, "God is most mighty."

[112] The ziraleet is a kind of chorus, which the women of the East sing upon joyful occasions.

[113] The Dead Sea, which contains neither animal nor vegetable life.

[114] The ancient Oxus.

[115] A city of Transoxiana.

[116] "You never can cast your eyes on this tree, but you meet there either blossoms or fruit; and as the blossom drops underneath on the ground (which is frequently covered with these purple-colored flowers), others come forth in their stead," etc.—Nieuhoff.

[117] The Demons of the Persian mythology.

[118] Carreri mentions the fire-flies in India during the rainy season.—See his Travels.

[119] Sennacherib, called by the Orientals King of Moussal.—D'Herbelot.

[120] Chosroes. For the description of his Throne or Palace, see Gibbon and D'Herbelot.

There were said to be under this Throne or Palace of Khosrou Parviz a hundred vaults filled with "treasures so immense that some Mahometan writers tell us, their Prophet to encourage his disciples carried them to a rock which at his command opened and gave them a prospect through it of the treasures of Khosrou."—Universal History.

[121] "The crown of Gerashid is cloudy and tarnished before the heron tuft of thy turban."—From one of the elegies or songs in praise of Ali, written in characters of gold round the gallery of Abbas's tomb.—See Chardin.

[122] The beauty of Ali's eyes was so remarkable, that whenever the Persians would describe anything as very lovely, they say it is Ayn Hali, or the Eyes of Ali.—Chardin.

[123] "Nakshab, the name of a city in Transoxiana, where they say there is a well, in which the appearance of the moon is to be seen night and day."

[124] The Shechinah, called Sakfnat in the Koran.—See Sale's Note, chap. ii.

[125] The parts of the night are made known as well by instruments of music, as by the rounds of the watchmen with cries and small drums.—See Burder's Oriental Customs, vol. i. p. 119.

[126] The Serrapurda, high screens of red cloth, stiffened with cane, used to enclose a considerable space round the royal tents.—_Notes on the Bakardanush.

The tents of Princes were generally illuminated. Norden tells us that the tent of the Bey of Girge was distinguished from the other tents by forty lanterns being suspended before it.—See Harmer's Observations on Job.

[127] "From the groves of orange trees at Kauzeroon the bees cull a celebrated honey.—Morier's Travels.

[128] "A custom still subsisting at this day, seems to me to prove that the Egyptians formerly sacrificed a young virgin to the God of the Nile; for they now make a statue of earth in shape of a girl, to which they give the name of the Betrothed Bride, and throw it into the river."—Savary.

[129] That they knew the secret of the Greek fire among the Mussulmans early in the eleventh century, appears from Dow's account of Mamood I. "When he at Moultan, finding that the country of the Jits was defended by great rivers, he ordered fifteen hundred boats to be built, each of which he armed with six iron spikes, projecting from their prows and sides, to prevent their being boarded by the enemy, who were very expert in that kind of war. When he had launched this fleet, he ordered twenty archers into each boat, and five others with fire-balls, to burn the craft of the Jits, and naphtha to set the whole river on fire."

[130] The Greek fire, which was occasionally lent by the emperors to their allies. "It was," says Gibbon, "either launched in red-hot balls of stone and iron, or darted in arrows and javelins, twisted round with flax and tow, which had deeply imbibed the imflammable oil."

[131] See Hanway's Account of the Springs of Naphtha at Baku (which is called by Lieutenant Pottinger Joala Mookee, or, the Flaming Mouth), taking fire and running into the sea. Dr. Cooke, in his Journal, mentions some wells in Circassia, strongly impregnated with this inflammable oil, from which issues boiling water. "Though the weather," he adds, "was now very cold, the warmth of these wells of hot water produced near them the verdure and flowers of spring.'

[132] "At the great festival of fire, called the Sheb Seze, they used to set fire to large bunches of dry combustibles, fastened round wild beasts and birds, which being then let loose, the air and earth appeared one great illumination; and as these terrified creatures naturally fled to the woods for shelter, it is easy to conceive the conflagrations they produced."—Richardson's Dissertation.

[133] "The righteous shall be given to drink of pure wine, sealed: the seal whereof shall be musk."—Koran, chap lxxxiii.

[134] The Afghans believe each of the numerous solitudes and deserts of their country to be inhabited by a lonely demon, whom they call The Ghoolee Beeabau, or Spirit of the Waste. They often illustrate the wildness of any sequestered tribe, by saying they are wild as the Demon of the Waste."—Elphinstone's Caubul.

[135] "They have all a great reverence for burial-grounds, which they sometimes call by the poetical name of Cities of the Silent, and which they people with the ghosts of the departed, who sit each at the head of his own grave, invisible to mortal eyes."—Elphinstone.

[136] The celebrity of Mazagong is owing to its mangoes, which are certainly the best I ever tasted. The parent-tree, from which all those of this species have been grafted, is honored during the fruit-season by a guard of sepoys; and, in the reign of Shah Jehan, couriers ware stationed between Delhi and the Mahratta coast, to secure an abundant and fresh supply of mangoes for the royal table."—Mrs. Graham's Journal of Residence in India.

[137] This old porcelain is found in digging, and "if it is esteemed, it is not because it has acquired any new degree of beauty in the earth, but because it has retained its ancient beauty; and this alone is of great importance in China, where they give large sums for the smallest vessels which were used under the Emperors Yan and Chun, who reigned many ages before the dynasty of Tang, at which time porcelain began to be used by the Emperors" (about the year 442).—Dunn's Collection of curious Observations, etc.

[138] The blacksmith Gao, who successfully resisted the tyrant Zohak, and whose apron became the royal standard of Persia.

[139] "The Huma, a bird peculiar to the East. It is supposed to fly constantly in the air, and never touch the ground; it is looked upon as a bird of happy omen; and that every head it overshades will in time wear a crown."—Richardson.

In the terms of alliance made by Fuzel Oola Khan with Hyder in 1760, one of the stipulations was, "that he should have the distinction of two honorary attendants standing behind him, holding fans composed of the feathers of the humma, according to the practice of his family."— Wilks's South of India. He adds in a note;—"The Humma is a fabulous bird. The head over which its shadow once passes will assuredly be circled with a crown. The splendid little bird suspended over the throne of Tippoo Sultaun, found at Seringapatam in 1799, was intended to represent this poetical fancy."

[140] "To the pilgrims to Mount Sinai we must attribute the inscriptions, figures, etc., on those rocks, which have from thence acquired the name of the Written Mountain."—Volney.

M. Gebelin and others have been at much pains to attach some mysterious and important meaning to these inscriptions; but Niebuhr, as well as Volney, thinks that they must have been executed at idle hours by the travellers to Mount Sinai, "who were satisfied with cutting the unpolished rock with any pointed instrument; adding to their names and the date of their journeys some rude figures, which bespeak the hand of a people but little skilled in the arts."—Niebuhr.

[141] The Story of Sinbad.

[142] "The Camalata (called by Linnaeus, Ipomaea) is the most beautiful of its order, both in the color and form of its leaves and flowers; its elegant blossoms are 'celestial rosy red, Love's proper hue,' and have justly procured is the name of Camalata, or Love's creeper."—Sir W. Jones.

[143] "According to Father Premare, in his tract on Chinese Mythology, the mother of Fo-hi was the daughter of heaven, surnamed Flower-loving; and as the nymph was walking alone on the bank of a river, she found herself encircled by a rainbow, after which she became pregnant, and, at the end of twelve years, was delivered of a son radiant as herself."—Asiat. Res.