Who hath not proved how feebly words essay 1
To fix one spark of Beauty's heavenly ray ?
Who doth not feel, until his failing sight
Faints into dimness with its own delight,
His changing cheek, his sinking heart confess
The right-the majesty of Loveliness?
Such was Zuleika - such around her shone
The nameless charms unmark'd by her alone -
The light of love, the purity of grace,

The mind, the Music breathing from her face,3
The heart whose softness harmonized the whole,
And oh that eye was in itself a Soul !

Her graceful arms in meekness bending
Across her gently-budding breast;
At one kind word those arms extending
To clasp the neck of him who blest
His child caressing and carest,
Zuleika came-and Giaffir felt
His

purpose half within him melt:
Not that against her fancied weal
His heart though stern could ever feel;
Affection chain'd her to that heart;
Ambition tore the links apart.

VII.

“Zuleika' child of gentleness!

1

How dear this very day must tell,

When I forget my own distress,

[These twelve fine lines were added in the course of printing)

This expression has met with objections. I will not refer to Him who hath not Music in his soul," but merely request the reader to recollect, for ten seconds, the features of the man whom he believes to be the most beautiful; and, if he then does not comprehend fully what is feebly expressed the above line, I shall be sorry for us both. For an elo. quent passage in the latest work of the first female writer of perhaps of any, age, on the analogy (and the immediate Comparison excited by that analogy) between "painting and

," see vol. ii. cap. 10. DE L'ALLEMAGNE. And is not this ecanection still stronger with the original than the copy? with the colouring of Nature than of Art? After all, this is rather to be felt than described; still I think there are some

will understand it, at least they would have done had ther beheld the countenance whose speaking harmony sug gested the idea; for this passage is not drawn from imagitation but memory, that mirror which Affliction dashes to the earth, and looking down upon the fragments, only beholds the reflection multiplied!-[" This morning, a very pretty billet from the Stael. She has been pleased to be pleased with my sight eulogy in the note annexed to the Bride.' This is to be accounted for in several ways: firstly, all women like all, or any praise; secondly, this was unexpected, because I have never courted her; and, thirdly, as Scrub says, those who have been all their lives regularly praised by regular critics, like a little variety, and are glad when any one goes out of his way to say a civil thing; and, fourthly, she is a very good-natured creature, which is the best reason, after all, and, perhaps, the only one."-B. Diary, Dec. 7. 1813.] [Among the imputed plagiarisms so industriously hunted out in his writings, this line has been, with somewhat more plausibility than is frequent in such charges, included; the lyric poet Lovelace having, it seems, written "The melody and music of her face." Sir Thomas Browne, too, in his Religio Medici, says, " There is music even in beauty." The

In losing what I love so well,
To bid thee with another dwell:
Another and a braver man
Was never seen in battle's van.
We Moslem reck not much of blood;
But yet the line of Carasman 4
Unchanged, unchangeable hath stood
First of the bold Timariot bands
That won and well can keep their lands.
Enough that he who comes to woo
Is kinsman of the Bey Oglou :

His years need scarce a thought employ:
I would not have thee wed a boy.
And thou shalt have a noble dower:
And his and my united power
Will laugh to scorn the death-firman,
Which others tremble but to scan,
And teach the messenger 5 what fate
The bearer of such boon may wait.
And now thou know'st thy father's will
All that thy sex hath need to know:
'Twas mine to teach obedience still
The way to love, thy lord may show."
VIII.

In silence bow'd the virgin's head;
And if her eye was fill'd with tears
That stifled feeling dare not shed,
And changed her cheek from pale to red,
And red to pale, as through her ears
Those winged words like arrows sped,
What could such be but maiden fears?
So bright the tear in Beauty's eye,
Love half regrets to kiss it dry;
So sweet the blush of Bashfulness,
Even Pity scarce can wish it less!

Whate'er it was the sire forgot;
Or if remember'd, mark'd it not;

Thrice clapp'd his hands, and call'd his steed, 6
Resign'd his gem-adorn'd chibouque, 7

coincidence, no doubt, is worth observing, and the task of "tracking thus a favourite writer in the snow (as Dryden expresses it) of others," is sometimes not unamusing; but to those who found upon such resemblances a general charge of plagiarism, we may apply what Sir Walter Scott says: "It is a favourite theme of laborious dulness to trace such coincidences, because they appear to reduce genius of the higher order to the usual standard of humanity, and of course to bring the author nearer to a level with his critics." It is not only curious, but instructive, to trace the progress of this passage to its present state of finish. Having at first written"Mind on her lip and music in her face,"

he afterwards altered it to

"The mind of music breathing in her face"but this not satisfying him, the next step of correction brought the line to what it is at present. - MOORE.]

4 Carasman Oglou, or Kara Osman Oglou, is the principal landowner in Turkey; he governs Magnesia: those who, by a kind of feudal tenure, possess land on condition of service, are called Timariots: they serve as Spahis, according to the extent of territory, and bring a certain number into the field, generally cavalry.

5 When a Pacha is sufficiently strong to resist, the single messenger, who is always the first bearer of the order for his death, is strangled instead, and sometimes five or six, one after the other, on the same errand, by command of the refractory patient; if, on the contrary, he is weak or loyal, he bows, kisses the Sultan's respectable signature, and is bowstrung with great complacency. In 1810, several of these presents were exhibited in the niche of the Seraglio gate; among others, the head of the Pacha of Bagdat, a brave young man, cut off by treachery, after a desperate resistance.

6 Clapping of the hands calls the servants. The Turks hate a superfluous expenditure of voice, and they have no bells. 7" Chibouque," the Turkish pipe, of which the amber

And mounting featly for the mead,
With Maugrabee and Mamaluke,
His way amid his Delis took, 2
To witness many an active deed
With sabre keen, or blunt jerreed.
The Kislar only and his Moors
Watch well the Haram's massy doors.

IX.

His head was leant upon his hand,

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

Mix in the game of mimic slaughter, Careering cleave the folded felt 3 With sabre stroke right sharply dealt; Nor mark'd the javelin-darting crowd, Nor heard their Ollahs wild and loud He thought but of old Giaffir's daughter!

X.

No word from Selim's bosom broke;
One sigh Zuleika's thought bespoke :
Still gazed he through the lattice grate,
Pale, mute, and mournfully sedate.
To him Zuleika's eye was turn'd,
But little from his aspect learn'd:
Equal her grief, yet not the same;
Her heart confess'd a gentler flame:
But yet that heart, alarm'd or weak,
She knew not why, forbade to speak.
Yet speak she must- -but when essay?
"How strange he thus should turn away!
Not thus we e'er before have met;
Nor thus shall be our parting yet."
Thrice paced she slowly through the room,
And watch'd his eye- it still was fix'd:
She snatch'd the urn wherein was mix'd
The Persian Atar-gul's 5 perfume,
And sprinkled all its odours o'er
The pictured roof6 and marble floor:

The drops, that through his glittering vest
The playful girl's appeal address'd,
Unheeded o'er his bosom dew,
As if that breast were marble too.
"What, sullen yet? it must not be
Oh! gentle Selim, this from thee!"
She saw in curious order set

The fairest flowers of eastern land"He lov'd them once; may touch them yet,

If offer'd by Zuleika's hand."

The childish thought was hardly breathed Before the rose was pluck'd and wreathed;

mouth-piece, and sometimes the ball which contains the leaf, is adorned with precious stones, if in possession of the wealthier orders.

1 "Maugrabee," Moorish mercenaries.

2 "Delis," bravos who form the forlorn hope of the cavalry, and always begin the action.

3 A twisted fold of felt is used for scimitar practice by the Turks, and few but Mussulman arms can cut through it at a single stroke: sometimes a tough turban is used for the same purpose. The jerreed is a game of blunt javelins, animated and graceful.

4" Ollahs," Alla il Allah, the "Leilies," as the Spanish poets call them, the sound is Ollah; a cry of which the Turks, for a silent people, are somewhat profuse, particularly during the jerreed, or in the chase, but mostly in battle. Their ani

The next fond moment saw her seat
Her fairy form at Selim's feet:
"This rose to calm my brother's cares
A message from the Bulbul 7 bears;
It says to-night he will prolong
For Selim's ear his sweetest song;
And though his note is somewhat sad,
He'll try for once a strain more glad,
With some faint hope his alter'd lay
May sing these gloomy thoughts away.

XI. "What! not receive my foolish flower? Nay then I am indeed unblest:

On me can thus thy forehead lower?

And know'st thou not who loves thee best?
Oh, Selim dear! oh, more than dearest !
Say, is it me thou hat'st or fearest ?
Come, lay thy head upon my breast,
And I will kiss thee into rest,

Since words of mine, and songs must fail,
Ev'n from my fabled nightingale.

I knew our sire at times was stern,
But this from thee had yet to learn:
Too well I know he loves thee not;
But is Zuleika's love forgot?
Ah! deem I right? the Pacha's plan -
This kinsman Bey of Carasman
Perhaps may prove some foe of thine.
If so, I swear by Mecca's shrine,-
If shrines that ne'er approach allow
To woman's step admit her vow,—
Without thy free consent, command,
The Sultan should not have my hand!
Think'st thou that I could bear to part
With thee, and learn to halve my heart?
Ah! were I sever'd from thy side,
Where were thy friend and who my guide?
Years have not seen, Time shall not see
The hour that tears my soul from thee:
Even Azrael 8, from his deadly quiver

When flies that shaft, and fly it must, That parts all else, shall doom for ever Our hearts to undivided dust!"

XII.

He lived -
he breathed- he moved - he felt;
He raised the maid from where she knelt;
His trance was gone his keen eye shone
With thoughts that long in darkness dwelt ;
With thoughts that burn- in rays that melt.
As the stream late conceal'd
By the fringe of its willows,
When it rushes reveal'd

In the light of its billows;

mation in the field, and gravity in the chamber, with their pipes and comboloios, form an amusing contrast.

5

Atar-gul," ottar of roses. The Persian is the finest.

6 The ceiling and wainscots, or rather walls, of the Mussul. man apartments are generally painted, in great houses, with one eternal and highly coloured view of Constantinople, wherein the principal feature is a noble contempt of per spective; below, arms, scimitars, &c. are in general fancifully and not inelegantly disposed.

7 It has been much doubted whether the notes of this "Lover of the rose" are sad or merry; and Mr. Fox's remarks on the subject have provoked some learned controversy as to the opinions of the ancients on the subject. I dare not venture à conjecture on the point, though a little inclined to the "errare mallem," &c. if Mr. Fox was mistaken, 8" Azrael," the angel of death.

As the bolt bursts on high
From the black cloud that bound it,
Flash'd the soul of that eye

Through the long lashes round it.
A war-horse at the trumpet's sound,
A lion roused by heedless hound,
A tyrant waked to sudden strife
By graze of ill-directed knife,
Starts not to more convulsive life

Than he, who heard that vow, display'd,
And all, before repress'd, betray'd:
"Now thou art mine, for ever mine,

With life to keep, and scarce with life resign;
Now thou art mine, that sacred oath,
Though sworn by one, hath bound us both.
Yes, fondly, wisely hast thou done;

That vow hath saved more heads than one.
But blench not thou-thy simplest tress
Claims more from me than tenderness;
I would not wrong the slenderest hair
That clusters round thy forehead fair,
For all the treasures buried far
Within the caves of Istakar.

This morning clouds upon me lower'd,
Reproaches on my head were shower'd,
And Giaffir almost call'd me coward!
Now I have motive to be brave;
The son of his neglected slave,
Nay, start not, 't was the term he gave,
May show, though little apt to vaunt,
A heart his words nor deeds can daunt.
His son, indeed!-yet, thanks to thee,
Perchance I am, at least shall be;
But let our plighted secret vow
Be only known to us as now.

I know the wretch who dares demand
From Giaffir thy reluctant hand;
More ill-got wealth, a meaner soul
Holds not a Musselim's 2 control:
Was he not bred in Egripo? 3
A viler race let Israel show;
But let that pass-to none be told
Our oath; the rest shall time unfold.
To me and mine leave Osman Bey;
I've partisans for peril's day:

Think not I am what I appear;

I've arms, and friends, and vengeance near.'

XIII.

Think not thou art what thou appearest !
My Selim, thou art sadly changed:
This morn I saw thee gentlest, dearest;
But now thou 'rt from thyself estranged
My love thou surely knew'st before,
It ne'er was less, nor can be more.
To see thee, hear thee, near thee stay,
And hate the night I know not why,
Save that we meet not but by day;

With thee to live, with thee to die,
I dare not to my hope deny :
Thy cheek, thine eyes, thy lips to kiss,
Like this
and this no more than this;
For, Alla! sure thy lips are flame :

What fever in thy veins is flushing?

The treasures of the Pre-adamite Sultans. See D'Herbelot, article Istakar.

"Musselim," a governor, the next in rank after a Pacha; a Waywode is the third; and then come the Agas.

My own have nearly caught the same,

At least I feel my cheek, too, blushing. To soothe thy sickness, watch thy health, Partake, but never waste thy wealth, Or stand with smiles unmurmuring by, And lighten half thy poverty; Do all but close thy dying eye, For that I could not live to try; To these alone my thoughts aspire: More can I do? or thou require ? But, Selim, thou must answer why We need so much of mystery? The cause I cannot dream nor tell, But be it, since thou say'st 't is well; Yet what thou mean'st by arms' and 'friends,' Beyond my weaker sense extends.

I meant that Giaffir should have heard
The very vow I plighted thee;
His wrath would not revoke my word:
But surely he would leave me free.
Can this fond wish seem strange in me,
To be what I have ever been?
What other hath Zuleika seen
From simple childhood's earliest hour?
What other can she seek to see
Than thee, companion of her bower,
The partner of her infancy?
These cherish'd thoughts, with life begun,
Say, why must I no more avow?
What change is wrought to make me shun
The truth; my pride, and thine till now?
To meet the gaze of stranger's eyes
Our law, our creed, our God denies;
Nor shall one wandering thought of mine
At such, our Prophet's will, repine :
No! happier made by that decree,
He left me all in leaving thee.
Deep were my anguish, thus compell'd
To wed with one I ne'er beheld :
This wherefore should I not reveal ?
Why wilt thou urge me to conceal ?
I know the Pacha's haughty mood
To thee hath never boded good;
And he so often storms at nought,
Allah forbid that e'er he ought!
And why I know not, but within
My heart concealment weighs like sin.
If then such secrecy be crime,

And such it feels while lurking here;
Oh, Selim tell me yet in time,

Nor leave me thus to thoughts of fear.
Ah! yonder see the Tchocadar 4,
My father leaves the mimic war;
I tremble now to meet his eye-
Say, Selim, canst thou tell me why?"