XX. This said, he turn'd away, and left The Youth in wonder mute; For Thalaba stood mute, And passively receiv'd The mingled joy which flow'd on every sense. Fair structures, rainbow-hued, arose; And fluted cypresses rear'd up And broad-leav'd plane-trees in long colonnades 7 Where round their trunks the thousand-tendril'd vine And here amid her sable cup 9 eyes Shines the red eye-spot, like one brightest star, And here the rose expands ΧΧΙ. Then on his ear what sounds Of harmony arose! Far music and the distance-mellow'd song From bowers of merriment; The waterfall remote; The murmuring of the leafy groves; Perch'd in the rosier by, so richly ton'd, XXII. And oh! what odours the voluptuous vale From cluster'd henna, and from orange groves, And, as her enemies impure Such odours flow'd upon the world, Full of the joy, yet still awake Invite the passing youth. Wearied at length with hunger and with heat, Where round a fountain brink, The very light came cool'd through silvering panes The guests sate quaffing the delicious juice XXIV. But Thalaba took not the draught; For rightly he knew had the Prophet forbidden Yet not uncourteous, Thalaba All watery particles exhal'd, alone A topaz, crystal-set : Here, on a plate of snow, The sunny orange rests; And still the aloes and the sandal-wood, From golden censors, o'er the banquet room Diffuse their dying sweets. XXV. Anon a troop of females form'd the dance, Which writhed, in each immodest gesture skill'd. XXVI. With earnest eyes the banqueters Fed on the sight impure; And Thalaba, he gazed, But in his heart he bore a talisman, To virtuous thoughts refined He rose, and from the banquet room he rush'd, XXVII. From tents of revelry, From festal bowers, to solitude he ran; A straight and stately bridge Stretch'd its long arches o'er the ample stream. Past o'er with hurried pace, And plunged amid the forest solitude. XXVIII. Deserts of Araby! His soul return'd to you. He cast himself upon the earth, Arous'd him; loud it came and near! He pluck'd the arrow forth. Again a shriek...a woman's shriek! And lo! she rushes through the trees, Hler veil all rent, her garments torn! He follows close, the ravisher... Even on the unechoing grass She hears his tread, so near! << Prophet, save me! save me, God! Help! help!» she cried to Thalaba; Thalaba drew the bow: The unerring arrow did its work of death. He turn'd him to the woman, and beheld His own Oneiza, his Arabian Maid. BOOK VII. Now all is done; bring home the Bride again. Bring home the triumph of our victory! Bring home with you the glory of her gain, With joyance bring her, and with jollity. Never bad man more joyful day than this, Whom Heaven would heap with bliss. SPENSER'S Epithalamium. I. FROM fear, and from amazement, and from joy, My father! O my father!»... Thalaba And their tears met, and mingled as they fell, II. ONEIZA. At night they seiz'd me, Thalaba! in my sleep,... Thou wert not near,.. and yet when in their grasp I woke, my shriek of terror called on thee. My father could not save me,-an old man! And they were strong and many,-O my God, The hearts they must have had to hear his prayers, And yet to leave him childless! THALABA. We will seek him: We will return to Araby. ΟΝΕΙΖΑ. Alas! We should not find him, Thalaba! our tent His dreams are of my wretchedness, my wrongs,— And gently drew him forward, and they went Towards the mountain chain. III. It was broad moonlight, and obscure or lost But the great boundary rose, distinctly marked. No sloping uplands lifting to the sun Their vineyards, with fresh verdure, and the shade Of ancient woods, courting the loiterer To win the easy ascent: stone mountains these, Desolate rock on rock, The burthens of the earth Whose snowy summits met the morning beam When night was in the vale, whose feet were fix'd In the world's foundations. Thalaba survey'd The heights precipitous, Impending crags, rocks unascendible, And hung upon his arm a feebler weight. IV. But soon again to hope Revives the Arabian maid, As Thalaba imparts the sudden thought. <<I past a river,» cried the youth, « A full and copious stream. The flowing waters cannot be restrained, And where they find or force their way, There we perchance may follow; thitherward The current rolled along.» So saying, yet again in hope Quickening their eager steps, They turned them thitherward. V. Silent and calm the river rolled along, Of that fair garden, o'er a rocky bed Still full and silent, held its even way. Foams in a thousand whirlpools! there adown Plunge the whole waters; so precipitous, That their earth-shaking roar came deadened up VI. « Allah save us!» Oneiza cried, << there is no path for man And as she spake, her joints Were loosen'd, and her knees sunk under her. « Cheer up, Oneiza!» Thalaba replied, << Be of good heart. We cannot fly But we can conquer them!» Varying their verdure to the gale, His meditating eye. And gave The quiver arrow-stor`d. «Bear thou the Bow: dear Maid, Oh! yet again, Oneiza, we shall share With double grasp, hand below hand, he clench'd, Then off he shook the clotted earth, And broke away the head And boughs, and lesser roots; And lifting it aloft, With that the youth and Arab Maid Toward the centre of the garden past. It chanced that Aloadin had convok'd The garden habitants, And with the assembled throng Oneiza mingled, and the Appointed Youth. Unmark'd they mingled, or if one With busier finger to his neighbour notes The quiver'd Maid, «haply,» he says, << Some daughter of the Homerites, 4 Or one who yet remembers with delight Her native tents of Himiar!» <« Nay!» rejoins His comrade, « a love-pageant! for the man Mimics with that fierce eye and knotty club Some savage lion-tamer, she forsooth Must play the heroine of the years of old!» XIV. Radiant with gems upon his throne of gold Large as the hairy Cassowar So huge his talons, in their grasp The Eagle would have hung a helpless prey. His beak was iron, and his plumes Glittered like burnish'd gold, And his eyes glow'd, as though an inward fire Shone through a diamond orb. XV. The blinded multitude Ador'd the Sorcerer, And bent the knee before him, And shouted out his praise : Mighty art thou, the Bestower of joy, The Lord of Paradise!» Then Aloadin rose and waved his hand, And they stood mute, and moveless, In idolizing awe. XVI. « Children of Earth,» he cried, « Whom I have guided here By easier passage than the gate of Death; Strong are his armies, many are his guards, With tales of a hereafter heaven Who is there here that by a deed The eternal joys of actual paradise? » XX. Amid the vale below Tents rose, and streamers play'd, And multitudes encamp'd, Swarm'd, far as eye could follow, o'er the plain. The Sultan of the Land. Before his presence there a Captain led XXI. « Obedient to our Lord's command,» said he, <«< We past toward the mountains, and began The ascending strait; when suddenly Earth shook, And darkness, like the midnight, fell around, And fire and thunder came from Heaven As though the Retribution day were come. After the terror ceas'd, and when with hearts Somewhat assur'd, again we ventur'd on, This youth and woman met us on the way. They told us, that from Aloadin's haunt They came, on whom the judgment-stroke hath fallen, He and his sinful Paradise at once Destroy'd by them, the agents they of Heaven. Therefore I brought them hither to repeat The tale before thy presence; that as search Shall prove it false or faithful, to their merit Thou mayest reward them.»> « Be it done to us,» Thalaba answer'd, « as the truth shall prove! >> XXII. The Sultan while he spake Fix'd on him the proud eye of sovereignty; Be as thou sayest it, Arab, thou shalt stand Hark! while he speaks, the cry, The lengthening cry, the increasing shout Of joyful multitudes! Breathless and panting to the tent The bearer of good tidings comes, «<O Sultan, live for ever! be thy foes Like Aloadin all! The wrath of God hath smitten him.>> XXIV. Then in the purple robe They vested Thalaba, And hung around his neck the golden chain, XXV. When from the pomp of triumphi And presence of the King His cheek inflam'd with pride. «The King hath done according to his word, |