Felt all the fresliness of repose;
His dizzy brain was calm'd,
The heavy aching of his lids
At once was taken off;

For Laila, from the Bowers of Paradise,
Had borne the healing fruit.

X.

So up the mountain steep,
With untir'd foot he past,
The Green Bird guiding him,
Mid
crags, and ice, and rocks,

A difficult way, winding the long ascent.
Ilow then the heart of Thalaba rejoiced,
When, bosom'd in the mountain depths,
A shelter'd Valley open'd on his view!
It was the Simorg's vale,
The dwelling of the ancient Bird.

XI.

On a green and mossy bank,
Beside a rivulet,

The Bird of Ages stood.

No sound intruded on his solitude,

Only the rivulet was heard,

Whose everlasting flow,

From the birth-day of the world,3 had made
The same unvaried murmuring.
Here dwelt the all-knowing Bird
In deep tranquillity,

His eye-lids ever clos'd

In full enjoyment of profound repose.

XII.

Reverently the youth approach'd

That old and only Bird,4

And crost his arms upon his breast,
And how'd his head, and spake.
« Earliest of existing things,
Earliest thou, and wisest thou,
Guide me, guide me, on my way!

I am bound to seek the caverns Underneath the roots of Ocean, Where the Sorcerer brood are nurst. Thou the eldest, thou the wisest, Guide me, guide me, on my way!»

XIII.

The ancient Simorg on the youth Unclos'd his thoughtful eyes, And answer'd to his prayer. «Northward by the stream proceed, In the fountain of the rock Wash away thy worldly stains, Kneel thou there, and seek the Lord, And fortify thy soul with prayer. Thus prepar'd, ascend the Sledge, Be bold, be wary, seek and find! God hath appointed all. »

The ancient Simorg then let fall his lids, Returning to repose.

XIV.

Northward, along the rivulet,

The adventurer went his way,

Tracing its waters upward to their source.

Green Bird of Paradise,
Thou hast not left the youth!--

With slow associate flight,
She companies his way,

And now they reach the fountain of the rock.

XV.

There, in the cold clear well,

Thalaba wash'd away his earthly stains, And bow'd his face before the Lord, And fortified his soul with prayer.

The while, upon the rock,

Stood the celestial Bird,

And, pondering all the perils he must pass, With a mild melancholy eye,

Beheld the youth belov'd.

XVI.

And lo! beneath yon lonely pine, the sledge-
And there they stand, the harness'd Dogs,
Their wide eyes watching for the youth,
Their ears erected, turn'd towards his way.
They were lean, as lean might be,
Their furrowed ribs rose prominent,
And they were black from head to foot,
Save a white line on every breast,
Curv'd like the crescent moon.

And he is seated in the sledge,
His arms are folded on his breast,
The Bird is on his knees;
There is fear in the eyes of the Dogs,
There is fear in their pitiful moan,
And now they turn their heads,
And seeing him there, away!

XVII.

The Youth, with the start of their speed,
Falls back to the bar of the sledge;
Ilis hair floats straight in the stream of the wind,
Like the weeds in the running brook.
They wind with speed the upward way,
An icy path through rocks of ice;
His eye is at the summit now,
And thus far all is dangerless;

And now upon the height
The black Dogs pause and pant;
They turn their eyes to Thalaba,

As if to plead for pity;
They moan, and moan with fear.

XVIII.

Once more away! and now
The long descent is
seen,

A long, long, narrow path.
Ice-rocks aright, and hills of snow,

Aleft the giddy precipice.
Be firm, be firm, O Thalaba!
One motion now, one bend,
And on the crags below,

Thy shatter'd flesh will harden in the frost.
Why howl the Dogs so mournfully?
And wherefore does the blood flow fast
All purple o'er their sable hair?
His arms are folded on his breast,
Nor scourge nor goad hath he;
No hand appears to strike,

A wide, wide plain, all desolate,
Nor tree, nor bush, nor herb!
On go the Dogs with rapid step,
The Sledge slides after rapidly,
And now the Sun went down.
They stopt and look'd at Thalaba,
The Youth perform'd his prayer;
They knelt beside him as he pray'd,
They turn'd their heads to Mecca,
And tears ran down their cheeks.
Then down they laid them in the snow,
As close as they could lie,

They laid them down and slept,
And backward in the sledge
The Adventurer laid himself:
There peacefully slept Thalaba,
And the Green Bird of Paradise
Lay nestling in his breast.

XXI. The Dogs awoke him at the dawn, They knelt and wept again; Then rapidly they journey'd on, And still the plain was desolate, Nor tree, nor bush, nor herb! And ever at the hour of prayer, They stopt, and knelt, and wept; And still that green and graceful Bird Was as a friend to him by day, And ever, when at night he slept, Lay nestling in his breast.

XXII.

In that most utter solitude,
It cheer'd his heart to hear

Her soft and soothing voice;
Her voice was soft and sweet,

It swell'd not with the blackbird's thrill, Nor warbled rich like the dear bird, that holds The solitary mail,

A loiterer in his thoughtful walk at eve;
But if no overflowing joy

Spake in its tones of tenderness,

They sooth'd the soften'd soul.

Her bill was not the beak of blood: There was a human meaning in her eye; Its mild affection fix'd on Thalaba,

Woke wonder while he gaz'd, And made her dearer for the mystery.

XXIII.

Oh joy! the signs of life appear,

The first and single Fir

That on the limits of the living world Strikes in the ice its roots.

Another, and another now; And now the Larch, that flings its arms Down-curving like the falling wave; And now the Aspin's scatter'd leaves Grey glitter on the moveless twig; The Poplar's varying verdure now, And now the Birch so beautiful,

Light as a lady's plumes. Oh joy! the signs of life! the Deer Hath left his slot beside the way; The little Ermine now is seen White wanderer of the snow; And now, from yonder pines they hear The clatter of the Grouse's wings: And now the snowy Owl pursues The Traveller's sledge, in hope of food; And hark! the rosy-breasted bird,

The Throstle of sweet song! Joy! joy! the winter-wilds are left! Green bushes now, and greener grass, Red thickets here, all berry-bright, And here the lovely flowers!

XXIV.

When the last morning of their way arrived,
After the early prayer,

The Green Bird fix'd on Thalaba
A sad and supplicating eye,
And with a human voice she spake,
<< Servant of God, I leave thee now.
If rightly I have guided thee,
Give me the boon I beg!»

XXV.

« O gentle Bird!» quoth Thalaba, «Guide and companion of my dangerous way, Friend and sole solace of my solitude, How can I pay thee benefits like these? Ask what thou wilt that I can give,

O gentle Bird, the poor return
Will leave me debtor still!»

XXVI.

<< Son of Hodeirah!»> she replied,

« When thou shalt see an Old Man crush'd beneath The burthen of his earthly punishment, Forgive him, Thalaba!

Yea, send a prayer to God in his behalf!»

XXVII.

A flush o'erspread the young Destroyer's cheek,
He turn'd his eye towards the Bird
As if in half repentance; for he thought
Of Okba; and his Father's dying groan

His aching eye pursued her path, When starting onward went the Dogs, More rapidly they hurried on,

In hope of near repose. It was the early morning yet, When, by the well-head of a brook They stopt, their journey done. The spring was clear, the water deep,5 A venturous man were he, and rash, That should have probed its depths,

For all its loosen'd bed below Heav'd strangely up and down, And to and fro, from side to side, It heav'd, and wav'd, and tost, And yet the depths were clear, And yet no ripple wrinkled o'er The face of that fair Well.

XXXI.

And on that Well, so strange and fair, A little boat there lay,

Without an oar, without a sail; One only seat it had, one seat, As if for only Thalaba. And at the helm a Damsel stood, A Damsel bright and bold of eye, Yet did a maiden modesty Adorn her fearless brow. Her face was sorrowful, but sure More beautiful for sorrow. To her the Dogs look'd wistful up, And then their tougues were loos'd, «Have we done well, O Mistress dear! And shall our sufferings end?»

XXXII.

The gentle Damsel made reply, « Poor Servants of the God I serve, When all this witchery is destroy'd, Your woes will end with mine.

Then did the Damsel say to Thalaba,
«The morn is young, the Sun is fair,
And pleasantly, through pleasant banks,

The quiet brook flows on —
Wilt thou embark with me?
Thou knowest not the water's way,
Think, Stranger, well! and night must come,-
Wilt thou embark with me?
Through fearful perils thou must pass,-
Stranger, the wretched ask thine aid!

Thou wilt embark with me!»>
She smil'd in tears upon the youth!-
What heart were his, who could gainsay
That melancholy smile?

« Sail on, sail on,» quoth Thalaba,
«<Sail on, in Allah's name!»

XXXIV.

Ile sate him on the single seat,
The little boat mov'd on.

Through pleasant banks the quiet brook
Went winding pleasantly;

By fragrant fir-groves now it past, And now, through alder-shores, Through green and fertile meadows now It silently ran by.

The flag-flower blossom'd on its side,
The willow tresses way'd,
The flowing current furrow'd round
The water-lily's floating leaf,
The fly of green and gauzy wing,
Fell sporting down its course,
And grateful to the voyager

The freshness of the running stream,
The murmur round the prow,

The little boat falls rapidly
Adown the rapid brook.

XXXV.

But many a silent spring meantime, And many a rivulet and rill Had swoln the growing brook; And when the southern Sun began To wind the downward way of heaven, It ran a river deep and wide, 6 Through banks that widen'd still. Then once again the Damsel spake, << The stream is strong, the river broad, Wilt thou go on with me?

The day is fair, but night must come

«

VII.

«Stranger,» quoth she, « in years long past
Was one who vow'd himself

The Champion of the Lord, like thee,
Against the race of Hell.
Young was he, as thyself,

Gentle, and yet so brave!
A lion-hearted man.

Shame on me, Stranger! in the arms of love

I held him from his calling, till the hour Was past; and then the Angel who should else Have crown'd him with his glory-wreath,

Smote him in anger-Years and years are gone-
And in his place of penance he awaits
Thee, the Deliverer,-surely thou art he!
It was my righteous punishment,
In the same youth unchanged,
And love unchangeable,

And grief for ever fresh,

And bitter penitence,

That gives no respite night nor day to woe, To abide the written hour, when I should waft The doom'd Destroyer and Deliverer here. Remember thou, that thy success involves No single fate, no common misery.»