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that zit scholde he putten hem in a fayrere paradys, where that thei scholde see God of nature visibely in his magestee and in his blisse. And than wolde he schewe hem his entent and seye hem, that zif thei wolde go sle such a lord, or such a man, that was his enemye, or contrarious to his list, that thei scholde not drede to don it, and for to be sleyn therefore hemselfe ; for aftir hire dethe he wolde putten hem into another paradys, that was an hundred fold fairere than ony of the tothere; and there scholde thei dwellen with the most fairest damyseles that myghte be, and pley with hem ever more. And thus wenten many dyverse lusty bacheleres for to sle grete lords, in dyverse countrees, that weren his enemyes, and maden himself to ben slayn in hope to have that paradys. And thus often tyme he was revenged of his enemyes by his sotylle disceytes and false cauteles. And whan the worthe men of the contree hadden perceyved this sotylle falshod of this Gatholonabes, thei assembled hem with force, and assayleden his castelle and slowen him, and destroyden all the faire places, and alle the nobletees of that paradys. The place of the welles, and of the walles, and of many other thinges, bene zit apertly sene; but the richesse is voyded clene. And it is not long gon sithen that place was destroyed."- Sir John Maundeville.

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His utter wretchedness. For all day long he lies on a grave, And never is he seen to weep, And never is he heard to groan, Nor even at the hour of prayer Bends his knee nor moves his lips. I have taken him food for charity, And never a word he spake; But yet so ghastly he look'd, That I have awaken'd at night With the dream of his ghastly eyes. Now, go not among the Tombs, Old Man!

OLD MAN.

Wherefore has the wrath of God So sorely stricken him?

WOMAN.

He came a stranger to the land, And did good service to the Sultan, And well his service was rewarded. The Sultan named him next himself, And gave a palace for his dwelling, And dower'd his bride with rich domains. But on his wedding night There came the Angel of Death. Since that hour, a man distracted Among the sepulchres he wanders. The Sultan, when he heard the tale, Said that for some untold crime, Judgment thus had stricken him, And asking Heaven forgiveness That he had shown him favor, Abandon'd him to want.

OLD MAN.

A Stranger did you say!

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3.

The Old Man knew him not,

But drawing near him, said,
"Countryman, peace be with thee!"
The sound of his dear native tongue
Awaken'd Thalaba;

He raised his countenance,
And saw the good Old Man,

And he arose and fell upon his neck,

And groan'd in bitterness.

Then Moath knew the youth,

And fear'd that he was childless; and he turn'd His asking eyes, and pointed to the tomb.

"Old Man!" cried Thalaba,

"Thy search is ended here!"

4.

The father's cheek grew white,
And his lip quiver'd with the misery;
Howbeit, collectedly, with painful voice

He answer'd, "God is good! His will be done!"

5.

The woe in which he spake,

The resignation that inspired his speech, They soften'd Thalaba.

"Thou hast a solace in thy grief," he cried, "A comforter within! Moath thou seest me here, Deliver'd to the Evil Powers, A God-abandon'd wretch."

6.

The Old Man look'd at him incredulous.

"Nightly," the youth pursued,

"Thy daughter comes to drive me to despair.

Moath, thou thinkest me mad;

But when the Crier from the Minaret
Proclaims the midnight hour,
Hast thou a heart to see her?"

7.

In the Meidan now

The clang of clarions and of drums Accompanied the Sun's descent. "Dost thou not pray, my son?"

Said Moath, as he saw

The white flag waving on the neighboring Mosque :
Then Thalaba's eye grew wild,

"Pray!" echoed he, "I must not pray!"
And the hollow groan he gave
Went to the Old Man's heart.
And bowing down his face to earth,
In fervent agony he call'd on God.

8.

A night of darkness and of storms !
Into the Chamber of the Tomb,

Thalaba led the Old Man,
To roof him from the rain.
A night of storms! the wind

Swept through the moonless sky,

And moan'd among the pillar'd sepulchres;

And in the pauses of its sweep
They heard the heavy rain

Beat on the monument above. In silence on Oneiza's grave Her Father and her husband sat.

9.

The Crier from the Minaret
Proclaim'd the midnight hour.
"Now, now!" cried Thalaba;
And o'er the chamber of the tomb
There spread a lurid gleam,
Like the reflection of a sulphur fire;
And in that hideous light

Oneiza stood before them. It was She,-
Her very lineaments, and such as death
Had changed them, livid cheeks, and lips of blue;
But in her eyes there dwelt
Brightness more terrible

Than all the loathsomeness of death.
"Still art thou living, wretch? "
In hollow tones she cried to Thalaba;
"And must I nightly leave my grave

To tell thee, still in vain,
God hath abandon'd thee?"

10.

"This is not she!" the Old Man exclaim'd; "A Fiend; a manifest Fiend!" And to the youth he held his lance; "Strike and deliver thyself!" "Strike HER!" cried Thalaba,

And, palsied of all power,

Gazed fixedly upon the dreadful form. "Yea, strike her!" cried a voice, whose tones Flow'd with such sudden healing through his

soul,

As when the desert shower

From death deliver'd him;

But, unobedient to that well-known voice,
His eye was seeking it,
When Moath, firm of heart,

Perform'd the bidding: through the vampire corpse
He thrust his lance; it fell,
And, howling with the wound,
Its fiendish tenant fled.

A sapphire light fell on them,

And garmented with glory, in their sight
Oneiza's Spirit stood.

11.

"O Thalaba!" she cried,
"Abandon not thyself!

Wouldst thou forever lose me?

- O my husband,
Go and fulfil thy quest,
That in the Bowers of Paradise
I may not look for thee
In vain, nor wait thee long."

12.

To Moath then the Spirit

Turn'd the dark lustre of her heavenly eyes: "Short is thy destined path,

O my dear Father! to the abode of bliss. Return to Araby;

There with the thought of death

Comfort thy lonely age,

And Azrael, the Deliverer, soon

Will visit thee in peace."

13.

They stood with earnest eyes,
And arms outreaching, when again
The darkness closed around them.
The soul of Thalaba revived;
He from the floor his quiver took,
And as he bent the bow, exclaim'd,
"Was it the overruling Providence
That in the hour of frenzy led my hands
Instinctively to this?

To-morrow, and the sun shall brace anew The slacken'd cord, that now sounds loose and damp;

To-morrow, and its livelier tone will sing
In tort vibration to the arrow's flight.
1-but I also, with recovered health
Of heart, shall do my duty.

My Father! here I leave thee then!" he cried, "And not to meet again,

Till, at the gate of Paradise,

The eternal union of our joys commence.

We parted last in darkness!"

and the youth

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Compassion; and his words

Of pity and of piety Open'd the young man's heart, And he told all his tale.

17.

'Repine not, O my Son!" the Old Man replied, "That Heaven hath chasten'd thee. Behold this vine:

I found it a wild tree, whose wanton strength Had swollen into irregular twigs

And bold excrescences,

And spent itself in leaves and little rings,
So, in the flourish of its outwardness,
Wasting the sap and strength
That should have given forth fruit.
But when I pruned the plant,
Then it grew temperate in its vain expense
Of useless leaves, and knotted, as thou seest,
Into these full, clear clusters, to repay
The hand that wisely wounded it.
Repine not, O my Son!

In wisdom and in mercy Heaven inflicts
Its painful remedies."

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Cold! cold there is no Sun in heaven;

A heavy and uniform cloud Overspreads the face of the sky, And the snows are beginning to fall. Dost thou wish for thy deserts, O Son of Hodeirah? Dost thou long for the gales of Arabia? Cold! cold! his blood flows languidly, His hands are red, his lips are blue, His feet are sore with the frost. Cheer thee! cheer thee! Thalaba! A little yet bear up!

22.

All waste! no sign of life But the track of the wolf and the bear! No sound but the wild, wild wind, And the snow crunching under his feet! Night is come; neither moon, nor stars, Only the light of the snow! But behold a fire in a cave of the hill, A heart-reviving fire;

And thither, with strength renew'd, Thalaba presses on.

23.

He found a Woman in the cave,
A solitary Woman,

Who by the fire was spinning,
And singing as she spun.

The pine boughs were cheerfully blazing,
And her face was bright with the flame;
Her face was as a Damsel's face,
And yet her hair was gray.

She bade him welcome with a smile,
And still continued spinning,

And singing as she spun.
The thread the woman drew
Was finer than the silkworm's,
Was finer than the gossamer;

The song she sung was low and sweet,
But Thalaba knew not the words.

24.

He laid his bow before the hearth,
For the string was frozen stiff;
He took the quiver from his neck,
For the arrow-plumes were iced.
Then, as the cheerful fire
Revived his languid limbs,
The adventurer ask'd for food.

The Woman answer'd him,
And still her speech was song:
"The She Bear she dwells near to me,
And she hath cubs, one, two, and three ;
She hunts the deer, and brings him here,
And then with her I make good cheer;
And now to the chase the She Bear is gone,
And she with her prey will be here anon."

25.

She ceased her spinning while she spake ; And when she had answer'd him, Again her fingers twirl'd the thread,

And again the Woman began,

In low, sweet tones to sing, The unintelligible song.

26.

The thread she spun it gleam'd like gold
In the light of the odorous fire;
Yet was it so wondrously thin,
That, save when it shone in the light,
You might look for it closely in vain.
The youth sat watching it,
And she observed his wonder,

And then again she spake,
And still her speech was song:
"Now twine it round thy hands, I say,
Now twine it round thy hands, I pray;
My thread is small, my thread is fine,
But he must be

A stronger than thee, Who can break this thread of mine!"

27.

And up she raised her bright blue eyes,
And sweetly she smiled on him,
And he conceived no ill;
And round and round his right hand,
And round and round his left,

He wound the thread so fine.
And then again the Woman spake,
And still her speech was song:
"Now thy strength, O Stranger, strain!
Now then break the slender chain."

28.

Thalaba strove; but the thread
By magic hands was spun,

And in his cheek the flush of shame
Arose, commix'd with fear.
She beheld, and laugh'd at him,

And then again she sung: "My thread is small, my thread is fine, But he must be

A stronger than thee,

Who can break this thread of mine!"

29.

And up she raised her bright blue eyes, And fiercely she smiled on him: "I thank thee, I thank thee, Hodeirah's son! I thank thee for doing what can't be undone, For binding thyself in the chain I have spun!" Then from his head she wrench'd A lock of his raven hair, And cast it in the fire, And cried aloud as it burnt, "Sister! Sister! hear my voice! Sister! Sister! come and rejoice! The thread is spun, The prize is won, The work is done,

For I have made captive Hodeirah's Son."

30.

Borne in her magic car The Sister Sorceress came,

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Away from thy lonely dwelling fly!

Here I see a danger nigh,

That he should live, and thou shouldst die.

MAIMUNA.

Whither then must we bear the foe?

SPIRIT.

To Mohareb's island go; There shalt thou secure the foe, There prevent thy future woe. 33.

Then in the Car they threw

The fetter'd Thalaba, And took their seats, and set Their feet upon his neck; Maimuna held the reins, And Khawla shook the scourge, And away! away! away!

34.

They were no steeds of mortal race
That drew the magic car

With the swiftness of feet and of wings.
The snow-dust rises behind them;
The ice-rock's splinters fly;
And hark, in the valley below
The sound of their chariot wheels, -
And they are far over the mountains!

NOTES TO BOOK VIII.

"But when the Crier from the Minaret," &c. - 6, p. 288.

As the celestial Apostle, at his retreat from Medina, did not perform always the five canonical prayers at the precise time, his disciples, who often neglected to join with him in the Namaz, assembled one day to fix upon some method of announcing to the public those moments of the day and night when their master discharged this first of religious duties. Flags, bells, trumpets, and fire, were successively proposed as signals. None of these, however, were admitted. The flags were rejected as unsuited to the sanctity of the object; the bells, on account of their being used by Christians; the trumpets, as appropriated to the Hebrew worship; the fires, as having too near an analogy to the religion of the pyrolators. From this contrariety of opinions, the disciples separated without any determination. But one of them, Abdullah ibn Zeid Abderyê, saw, the night following, in a dream, a celestial being, clothed in green: he immediately requested his advice, with the most zealous earnestness, respecting the object in dispute. I am come to inform you, replied the heavenly visitor, how to discharge this important duty of your religion. He then ascended to the roof of the house, and declared the Ezann with a loud voice, and in the same words which have been ever since used to declare the canonical periods. When he awoke, Abdullah ran to declare his vision to the prophet, who loaded him with blessings, and authorized that moment Bilal Habeschy, another of his disciples, to discharge, on the top of his house, that august office, by the title of Muezzinn.

These are the words of the Ezann: Most high God! most high God! most high God! I acknowledge that there is no other except God; I acknowledge that there is no other except God! I acknowledge that Mohammed is the Prophet of God! come to prayer! come to prayer! come to the temple of salvation. Great God! Great God! there is no God except God.

This declaration must be the same for each of the five canonical periods, except that of the morning, when the

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