<< Behold those unextinguish'd flames!

Stronger it grew,

and spread

The fire still burns that threats

The Masters of the Spell!
Okba, wert thou weak of heart?

Okba, wert thou blind of eye?
Thy fate and ours were on the lot,

And we believ'd the lying stars,

That said thy hand might seize the auspicious hour! Thou hast let slip the reins of Destiny,

Curse thee, curse thee, Okba!»

VIII.

The Murderer, answering, said,
« O vers'd in all enchanted lore,
Thou better knowest Okba's soul!
Eight blows I struck, eight home-driven blows,
Needed no second stroke
From this envenom'd blade.

Ye frown at me as if the will had fail'd,
As if ye did not know

My double danger from Hodeirah's race,
The deeper hate I feel,

The stronger motive that inspir'd my arm!
Ye frown as if my hasty fault,

My ill-directed blow,

Had spar'd the enemy;

And not the stars that would not give,
And not your feeble spells

That could not force, the sign

Which of the whole was he!

Did ye not bid me strike them all?

Said ye not root and branch should be destroy'd?
I heard Hodeiral's dying groan,

I heard his Children's shriek of death,
And sought to consummate the work;
But o'er the two remaining lives
A cloud unpierceable had risen,

A cloud that mock'd my searching eyes.
I would have prob'd it with the dagger-point,
The dagger was repell'd;

A Voice came forth and cried,

'Son of Perdition, cease! thou canst not change What in the Book of Destiny is written.'»

IX.

Khawla to the Teraph turn'd, «Tell me where the Prophet's hand

Hides our destin'd enemy?»
The dead lips spake again,

«I view the seas, I view the land,

I search the ocean and the earth!

Not on Ocean is the Boy,

Not on Earth his steps are seen.»>

X.

«A mightier power than we,» Lobaba cried, « Protects our destin'd foe! Look! look! one fire burns dim! It quivers! it goes out!»>

XI.

It quivered, it was quench'd.

One flame alone was left,

A pale blue flame that trembled on the earth, A hovering light, upon whose shrinking edge The darkness seemed to press.

Its lucid swell around,

Extending now where all the ten had stood,
With lustre more than all.

At that portentous sight,
The children of Evil trembled,
And Terror smote their souls.
Over the den the fire
Its fearful splendour cast,

The broad base rolling up in wavy streams,
Bright as the summer lightning when it spreads
Its glory o'er the midnight heaven.
The Teraph's eyes were dimm'd,
Which like two twinkling stars

Shone in the darkness late.
The Sorcerers on each other gaz'd,
And every face, all pale with fear,
And ghastly, in that light was seen
Like a dead man's by the sepulchral lamp.

Speak!» cried the Sorceress, and she snatch'd
A Viper from the floor,

And with the living reptile lash'd his neck.5
Wreath'd round him with the blow,
The reptile tighter drew her folds,
And rais'd her wrathful head,

And fix'd into his face

Her deadly teeth, and shed

Poison in every wound.

In vain! for Allah heard Hodeirah's prayer,

And Khawla on a corpse

Had wreak'd her baffled rage.

The fated fire mov'd on,

And round the Body wrapt its funeral flames.
The flesh and bones in that portentous pile
Consum'd; the Sword alone
Circled with fire, was left.

XXII.

Where is the Boy for whose hand it is destin'd? Where the Destroyer who one day shall wield The Sword that is circled with fire?

From tribe to tribe, from town to town, From tent to tent, Abdaldar past. Him every morn the all-beholding Eye Saw from his couch, unhallowed by a prayer, Rise to the scent of blood;

And every night lie down,
That rankling hope within him, that by day
Goaded his steps, still stinging him in sleep,
And startling him with vain accomplishment
From visions still the same.

Many a time his hand
wary

To many a youth applied the Ring,
And still the imprison'd fire
Within its crystal socket lay comprest,
Impatient to be free.

ΧΧΙΧ.

At length to the cords of a tent,
That were stretch'd by an Island of Palms,
In the desolate sea of the sands,
The seemly traveller came.
Under a shapely palm,

Herself as shapely, there a Damsel stood;
She held her ready robe,
And look'd towards a Boy,
Who from the tree above,

With one hand clinging to its trunk,

Cast with the other down the cluster'd dates.

XXX.

The Wizard approach'd the Tree,

He lean'd on his staff, like a way-faring man, And the sweat of his travel was seen on his brow. He ask'd for food, and lo!

The Damsel proffers him her lap of dates; And the Stripling descends, and runs to the tent, And brings him forth water, the draught of delight.

XXXI.

Anon the Master of the tent,

The Father of the family,

Came forth, a man in years, of aspect mild. To the stranger approaching he gave The friendly saluting of peace,

And bade the skin be spread.

Before the tent they spread the skin, 9

Under a Tamarind's shade,
That, bending forward, stretch'd
Its boughs of beauty far.

They brought the Traveller rice,
With no false colours 10 tinged to tempt the eye,
But white as the new-fallen snow,
When never yet the sullying Sun
Hath seen its purity,

Nor the warm Zephyr touchi'd and tainted it.
The dates of the grove before their guest
They laid, and the luscious fig,

And water from the well.

The Damsel from the Tamarind tree
Had pluck'd its acid fruit,
And steep'd it in water long;

And whoso drank of the cooling draught,11
He would not wish for wine.

This to the guest the Damsel brought,
And a modest pleasure kindled her cheek,
When raising from the cup his moisten'd lips,
The Stranger smil'd, and prais'd, and drank again.

XXXII.

Whither is gone the Boy?

He had pierced the Melon's pulp, And clos'd with wax the wound, And he had duly gone at morn And watch'd its ripening rind, And now all joyfully he brings The treasure now matur'd. His dark eyes sparkle with a boy's delight, As out he pours its liquid 12 lusciousness, And proffers to the guest.

XXXIII.

Abdaldar ate, and he was satisfied:
And now his tongue discours'd
Of regions far remote,

As one whose busy feet had travell'd long.
The father of the family,

With a calm eye and quiet smile,

Sate pleas'd to hearken him.
The Damsel who remov'd the meal
She loitered on the way,

And listen'd with full hands 13
A moment motionless.
All eagerly the Boy
Watches the Traveller's lips;
And still the wily man

With seemly kindness, to the eager Boy
Directs his winning tale.

Ah, cursed one! if this be he,

If thou hast found the object of thy search, Thy hate, thy bloody aim,...

Into what deep damnation wilt thou plunge Thy miserable soul!...

Look! how his eye delighted watches thine!... Look! how his open lips

Gasp at the winning tale!..

And nearer now he comes,

To lose no word of that delightful talk.

Then, as in familiar mood,

Upon the stripling's arm
The Sorcerer laid his hand,
And the fire of the Crystal fled.

XXXIV. While the sudden shoot of joy Made pale Abdaldar's cheek,

As Thalaba to his ablutions went, Lo! the grave open, and the corpse expos'd! It was not that the winds of night Had swept away the sands which covered it, For heavy with the undried dew The desert dust was dark and close around; And the night air had been so calm and still, It had not from the grove Shaken a ripe date down.

Amaz'd to hear the tale,

Forth from the tent came Moath and his child.
Awhile the thoughtful man survey'd the corpse
Silent with downward eyes;

Then turning, spake to Thalaba, and said, << I have heard that there are places by the abode Of holy men, so holily possess'd,

That should a corpse be buried there, the ground
With a convulsive effort shakes it out,4
Impatient of pollution. Have the feet
Of Prophet or Apostle blest this place?
Ishmael, or Houd, or Saleh, or than all,
Mahommed, holier name? Or is the man
So foul with magic and all blasphemy,
That Earth,5 like Heaven, rejects him? It is best
Forsake the station. Let us strike our tent.
The place is tainted.. and behold
The Vulture hovers yonder,6 and his scream
Chides us that still we scare him from his banquet.
So let the accursed one

Find fitting sepulchre.>>

V.

Then from the pollution of death With water they made themselves pure; And Thalaba drew up The fastening of the cords;

And Moath furl'd the tent;

And from the grove of palms Oneiza led The Camels, ready to receive their load.

VI.

The dews had ceased to steam

Towards the climbing Sun,

When from the Isle of Palms they went their way.
And when the Sun had reach'd his southern height,
As back they turn'd their eyes,
The distant Palms arose

Like to the top-sails of some far-off fleet
Distinctly seen, where else

The Ocean bounds had blended with the sky.

And when the eve came on,

The sight returning reach'd the grove no more.
They planted the pole of their tent,
And they laid them down to repose.

VII.

At midnight Thalaba started up,

For he felt that the ring on his finger was mov'd;
He call'd on Allah aloud,

And he call'd on the Prophet's name.
Moath arose in alarm,

«What ails thee, Thalaba?» he cried,
« Is the robber of night at hand?»
« Dost thou not see,» the youth exclaim'd,