Which in itself can comprehend
Woe without name, or hope, or end.

The hour is past, the Giaour is gone;
And did he fly or fall alone?
Woe to that hour he came or went!
The curse for Hassan's sin was sent
To turn a palace to a tomb:
He came, he went, like the simoom,
That harbinger of fate and gloom,
Beneath whose widely-wasting breath
The very cypress droops to death-
Dark tree, still sad when others' grief is fled,
The only constant mourner o'er the dead!

The steed is vanish'd from the stall;
No serf is seen in Hassan's hall;
The lonely Spider's thin gray pall
Waves slowly widening o'er the wall;
The Bat builds in his Haram bower,
And in the fortress of his power
The Owl usurps the beacon-tower;

The wild-dog howls o'er the fountain's brim,

With baffled thirst, and famine grim;

For the stream has shrunk from its marble bed,

Where the weeds and the desolate dust are spread.

"Twas sweet of yore to see it play

And chase the sultriness of day,

As springing high the silver dew

In whirls fantastically flew,

And flung luxurious coolness round

The air, and verdure o'er the ground.

"Twas sweet, when cloudless stars were bright,

To view the wave of watery light,

And hear its melody by night.

And oft had Hassan's Childhood play'd

Around the verge of that cascade;
And oft upon his mother's breast
That sound had harmonized his rest;
And oft had Hassan's Youth along
Its bank been soothed by Beauty's song;
And softer seem'd each melting tone
Of Music mingled with its own.
But ne'er shall Hassan's Age repose
Along the brink at twilight's close:
The stream that fill'd that font is fled-
The blood that warm'd his heart is shed!
And here no more shall human voice

Be heard to rage, regret, rejoice.

The last sad note that swell'd the gale

Was woman's wildest funeral wail:

That quench'd in silence, all is still,

But the lattice that flaps when the wind is shrill;

The blast of the desert, fatal to everything living, and often alluded to in eastern poetry.-B.

Though raves the gust, and floods the rain,
No hand shall close its clasp again.
On desert sands 'twere joy to scan
The rudest steps of fellow man;
So here the very voice of Grief
Might wake an Echo like relief-
At least 'twould say, "All are not gone;
There lingers Life, though but in one"-
For many a gilded chamber's there,
Which Solitude might well forbear;
Within that dome as yet Decay

Hath slowly work'd her cankering way—
But gloom is gather'd o'er the gate,
Nor there the Fakir's self will wait;
Nor there will wandering Dervise stay,
For bounty cheers not his delay;
Nor there will weary stranger halt
To bless the sacred "bread and salt."*
Alike must Wealth and Poverty
Pass heedless and unheeded by,
For Courtesy and Pity died

With Hassan on the mountain side.
His roof, that refuge unto men,

Is Desolation's hungry den.

The guest flies the hall, and the vassal from labour,
Since his turban was cleft by the Infidel's sabre !+

*

*

I hear the sound of coming feet,
But not a voice mine ear to greet;
More near-each turban I can scan,
And silver-sheathed ataghan ;+
The foremost of the band is seen
An Emir by his garb of green:§

"Ho! who art thou?"-"This low salam ||
Replies of Moslem faith I am.'

"

"The burthen ye so gently bear

Seems one that claims your utmost care,

And, doubtless, holds some precious freight,

My humble bark would gladly wait."

"Thou speakest sooth; thy skiff unmoor, And waft us from the silent shore;

To partake of food, to break bread and salt with your host, insures the safety of the guest: even though an enemy, his person from that moment is sacred.-B.

I need hardly observe, that charity and hospitality are the first duties enjoined by Mahomet; and to say truth, very generally practised by his disciples. The first praise that can be bestowed on a chief, is a panegyric on his bounty; the next, on his valour.-B. The ataghan, a long dagger worn with pistols in the belt, in a metal scabbard, generally of silver; and, among the wealthier, gilt, or of gold.-B.

Green is the privileged colour of the Prophet's numerous pretended descendants; with them, as here, faith (the family inheritance) is supposed to supersede the necessity of good works: they are the worst of a very indifferent brood.-B.

"Salam aleikoum ! aleikoum salam !"-" Peace be with you; be with you peace"the salutation reserved for the faithful:-to a Christian, "Urlarula !"-"A good journey" or, "Saban hiresem, saban serula"-"Good morn, good even;" and some. times,"May your end be happy," are the usual salutes.-B.

Nay, leave the sail still furl'd, and ply
The nearest oar that's scatter'd by,
And midway to those rocks where sleep
The channell❜d waters dark and deep.
Rest from your task-so-bravely done,
Our course has been right swiftly run;
Yet 'tis the longest voyage, I trow,
That one of

Sullen it plunged, and slowly sank,
The calm wave rippled to the bank;
I watch'd it as it sank: methought
Some motion from the current caught
Bestirr'd it more,-'twas but the beam
That checker'd o'er the living stream:
I gazed, till vanishing from view,
Like lessening pebble it withdrew;
Still less and less, a speck of white

That gemm'd the tide, then mock'd the sight;
And all its hidden secrets sleep,

Known but to Genii of the deep,

Which, trembling in their coral caves,

They dare not whisper to the waves.

As rising on its purple wing
The insect-queen of eastern spring,
O'er emerald meadows of Kashmeer
Invites the young pursuer near,
And leads him on from flower to flower,
A weary chase and wasted hour,
Then leaves him, as it soars on high,
With panting heart and tearful eye:
So Beauty lures the full-grown child,
With hue as bright, and wing as wild;
A chase of idle hopes and fears,
Begun in folly, closed in tears.
If won, to equal ills betray'd,
Woe waits the insect and the maid;
A life of pain, the loss of peace,
From infant's play and man's caprice;
The lovely toy so fiercely sought,
Hath lost its charm by being caught,
For every touch that woo'd its stay
Hath brush'd its brightest hues away,
Till charm, and hue, and beauty gone,
"Tis left to fly or fall alone.

With wounded wing or bleeding breast,
Ah! where shall either victim rest?
Can this with faded pinion soar
From rose to tulip as before?

'The tizz-winged butterfly of Kashmeer, the most rare and beautiful of the species -B

M

162

Or Beauty, blighted in an hour,
Find joy within her broken bower?
No: gayer insects fluttering by

Ne'er droop the wing o'er those that die,
And lovelier things have mercy shown
To every failing but their own,
And every woe a tear can claim,
Except an erring sister's shame.

*

The Mind, that broods o'er guilty woes,
Is like the Scorpion girt by fire,
In circle narrowing as it glows,
The flames around their captive close,
Till inly search'd by thousand throes,
And maddening in her ire,

One sad and sole relief she knows,
The sting she nourish'd for her foes,
Whose venom never yet was vain,
Gives but one pang, and cures all pain,
And darts into her desperate brain :
So do the dark in soul expire,

Or live like Scorpion girt by fire ;*
So writhes the mind Remorse hath river,
Unfit for earth, undoom'd for heaven,
Darkness above, despair beneath,
Around it flame, within it death!

Black Hassan from the Haram flies,
Nor bends on woman's form his eyes;
The unwonted chase each hour employs,
Yet shares he not the hunter's joys.
Not thus was Hassan wont to fly
When Leila dwelt in his Serai.
Doth Leila there no longer dwell?
That tale can only Hassan tell :
Strange rumours in our city say
Upon that eve she fled away
When Rhamazan's last sun was set,+
And flashing from each minaret
Millions of lamps proclaim'd the feast
Of Bairam through the boundless East.
"Twas then she went as to the bath,
Which Hassan vainly search'd in wrath;
For she was flown her master's rage,
In likeness of a Georgian page,

And far beyond the Moslem's power

Had wrong'd him with the faithless Giaour.

Alluding to the dubious suicide of the scorpion, so placed for experiment by gentis philosophers. Some maintain that the position of the sting, when turned towards the head, is merely a convulsive movement; but others have actually brought in the verdict, "Felo de se." The scorpions are surely interested in a speedy decision of the question: as, if once fairly established as insect Catos, they will probably be allowed to live as long as they think proper, without being martyred for the sake of an hypothesis.-B. The cannon at sunset close the Rhamazan. See antè, note, p. 157.

Somewhat of this had Hassan deem'd
But still so fond, so fair she seem'd,
Too well he trusted to the slave
Whose treachery deserved a grave:
And on that eve had gone to mosque,
And thence to feast in his kiosk.
Such is the tale his Nubians tell,
Who did not watch their charge too well;
But others say, that on that night,
By pale Phingari's* trembling light,
The Giaour upon his jet-black steed
Was seen, but seen alone, to speed
With bloody spur along the shore,
Nor maid nor page behind him bore.

Her eye's dark charm 'twere vain to tell,
But gaze on that of the Gazelle,

It will assist thy fancy well;

As large, as languishingly dark,
But Soul beam'd forth in every spark
That darted from beneath the lid,
Bright as the jewel of Giamschid.†
Yea, Soul, and should our Prophet say
That form was nought but breathing clay,
By Alla! I would answer nay;

Though on Al-Sirat's ‡ arch I stood,
Which totters o'er the fiery flood,
With Paradise within my view,

And all his Houris beckoning through.

Oh! who young Leila's glance could read
And keep that portion of his creed,§
Which saith that woman is but dust,
A soulless toy for tyrant's lust?
On her might Muftis gaze, and own
That through her eye the Immortal shone;
On her fair cheek's unfading hue

The young pomegranate's blossoms strew
Their bloom in blushes ever new;

• Phingari, the moon.-B.

The celebrated fabulous ruby of Sultan Giamschid, the embellisher of Istakhar; from its splendour, named Schebgerag," the Torch of Night;" also, the "Cup of the Sun," &c. In the first edition," Giamschid" was written as a word of three syllables; so D'Herbelot has it; but I am told Richardson reduces it to a dissyllable, and writes" Jamshid." I have left in the text the orthography of the one, with the pronunciation of the other.-B. Most writers now would prefix a D, which reconciles the Eastern with the Italian pronunciation.

Al-Sirat, the bridge of breadth, less than the thread of a famished spider, over which the Mussulmans must skate into Paradise, to which it is the only entrance; but this is not the worst, the river beneath being hell itself, into which, as may be expected, the unskilful and tender of foot contrive to tumble with a "facilis descensus Averni," not very pleasing in prospect to the next passenger. There is a shorter cut downwards to the Jews and Christians.-B.

§ A vulgar error: the Koran allots at least a third of Paradise to well-behaved women but by far the greater number of Mussulmans interpret the text their own way, and xclude their moieties from heaven. Being enemies to Platonics, they cannot discern "any fitness of things" in the souls of the other sex, conceiving them to be superseded by the Houries.-B.

An oriental simile, which may, perhaps, though fairly stolen, be deemed “plus Arabe qu'en Arabie."-B.