Harold, Canto 2d. I was at some pains to question To wander round lost Eblis' throne. the man, and he described the dresses, arms, and

Page 114, line 64. marks of the horses of our party so accurately, that, Eblis, the Oriental Prince of Darkness.

with other circumstances, we could not doubt of his

having been in “ villainous company," and our37.

selves in a bad neighborhood. Dervish became a

soothsayer for life, and I dare say is nòw hearing But first, on earth, as vampire sent.

more musketry than ever will be fired, to the great Page 114, line 69.

refreshment of the Arnaouts of Berat, and his naThe Vampire superstition is still general in the tive mountains.-I shall mention one trait more of Levant. Honest Tournefort tells a long story, which this singular race. In March, 1811, a remarkably Mr. Southey, in the notes on Thalaba, quotes, about stout and active Arnaout came (I believe the tenth these “Vroucolochas," as he calls them. The Ro- on the same errand) to offer himself as an attend. maic term is “Vardoulacha.” I recollect a whole ant, which was declined: “Well, Affendi,” quoth family being terrified by the scream of a child, he,“ may you live !--you would have found me usewhich they imagined must proceed from such a visi-ful. I shall leave the town for the hills to-morrow, tation. The Greeks never mention the word with in the winter I return, perhaps you will then receive out horror. I find that “Broucolokas” is an old me."-Dervish, who was present, remarked, as a legitimate Hellenic appellation--at least is so ap- thing of course, and of no consequence, " In the plied to Arsenius, who, according to the Greeks, mean time he will join the Klephtes,” (robbers,) was after his death animated by the Devil.-The which was true to the letter.-If not cut off, they moderns, however, use the word I mention. come down in the winter, and pass it unmolested

in some town, where they are often as well known

as their exploits.
Wet with thine oron best blood shall drip.
Page 114, line 95.

Looks not to priesthood for relief.
The freshness of the face, and the wetness of the

Page 117, line 126. lip with blood, are the never-failing signs of a Vam-. The monk's sermon is omitted. It seems to have pire. The stories told in Hungary and Greece of had so little effect upon the patient, that it could these foul feeders are singular, and some of them have no hopes from the reader. It may be sufficient most incredibly attested.

to say, that it was of a customary length (as may 33.

be perceived) from the interruptions and uneasiness

of the penitent,) and was delivered in the nasal It is as if the desert-bird.

tone of all orthodox preachers.

Page 116, line 7. The pelican is, I believe, the bird so libelled, by

42. the imputation of feeding her chickens with her And shining in her white symar. blood.

Page 118, line 59. 40.

“Symar”-shroud. Deep in whose darkly boding ear.

43. Page 116, line 129.

Page 118, line 121. This superstition of a second-hearing (for I never The circumstance to which the above story remet with downright second-sight in the east) fell lates was not very uncommon in Turkey. A few once under my own observation.-On my third years ago the wife of Muchtar Pacha complained to journey to Cape Colonna early in 1811, as we passed his father of his son's supposed infidelity; he asked through the defile that leads from the hamlet be- with whom, and she had the barbarity to give in a tween Keratiar and Colonna, I observed Dervish list of the twelve handsomest women in Yanina. Tahiri riding rather out of the path, and leaning They were seized, fastened up in sacks, and drownhis head upon his hand, as if in pain. I rode up ed in the lake the same night! One of the guards and inquired. “We are in peril," he answered. who was present informed me, that not one of the "What peril? we are not now in Albania, nor in victims uttered a cry, or showed a symptom of terthe passes to Ephesus, Messalunghi, or Lepanto; ror at so sudden a "wrench from all we know, from there are plenty of us, well armed, and the Choriates all we love." The fate of Phrosine, the fairest of have not courage to be thieves.”_" True, Affendi, this sacrifice, is the subject of many a Romaic and but nevertheless the shot is ringing in my ears." Arnaout ditty. The story in the text is one told “The shot! not a tophaike has been fired this of a young Venetian many years ago, and now morning."-"I hear it notwithstanding-Bom- nearly forgotten. I heard it by accident recited by Bom-as plainly as I hear your voice."-Pshaw." one of the coffee-house story-tellers who abound in "As you please, Affendi; if it is written, so will it the Levant, and sing or recite their narratives. be.”—I left_this quick-eared predestinarian, and The additions and interpolations by the translator rode up to Basili, his Christian compatriot, whose will be easily distinguished from the rest by the ears, though not at all prophetic, by no means rel- want of Eastern imagery; and I regret that my ished the intelligence. We all arrived at Colonna, memory has retained so few fragments of the origiremained some hours, and returned leisurely, say- nal. ing a variety of brilliant things, in more languages For the contents of some the notes I am indebted than spoiled the building of Babel, upon the mis- partly to D'Herbelot, and partly to that most easttaken seer; Romaic, Arnaout, Turkish, Italian, ern, and, as Mr. Weber justly entitles it, “sublime and English were all exercised, in various conceits, tale," the “Caliph Vathek. I do not know from upon the unfortunate Mussulman. While we were what source the author of that singular volume contemplating the beautiful prospect, Dervish was may have drawn his materials; some of his incioccupied about the columns. "I thought he was de- dents are to be found in the “ Bibliotheque Orienranged into an antiquarian, and asked him if he had tale; but for correctness of costume, beauty of become a 'Palaocastro' man:"No," said he, “but description, and power of imagination, it far sur. these pillars will be useful in making a stand;" passes all European imitations; and bears such and added other remarks, which at least evinced his marks of originality, that those who have visited own belief in his troublesome faculty of fore-hearing. the East, will find some difficulty in believing it to On our return to Athens, we heard from Leone (a be more than a translation. As an Eastern tale, prisoner set ashore some days after) of the intended even Rasselas must bow before it; his “ Happy attack of the Mainotes, mentioned, with the cause Valley” will not bear a comparison with the “Hall of its not taking place, in the notes to Childe' of Eblis.”



Had we never loved so kindly,
Had we never loved so blindly,
Never met or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken-hearted.









Old Giaffir sat in his Divan:
Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle it Deep thought was in his aged eye;

Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime, And though the face of Mussulman
Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Not oft betrays to standers by

Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime? The mind within, well skill'd to hide
Know ye the land of the cedar and vine, 요 All but unconquerable pride,
Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever His pensive cheek and pondering brow

Did more than he was wont avow.
Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppress'd with

III. Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gúll in her bloom ; "Let the chamber be clear'd.”—The train disap Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit,

pear'd And the voice of the nightingale never is mute; “Now call me the chief of the Haram guard." Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky, With Giaffir is none but his only son, In color though varied, in beauty may vie,

And the Nubian awaiting the sire's award. And the purple of ocean is deepest in dye;

“Haroun-when all the crowd that wait Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine, Are pass'd beyond the outer gate, And all, save the spirit of man, is divine?

(Wo to the head whose eye beheld 'Tis the clime of the East; 'tis the land of the sun- My child Zuleika's face unveil'd!) Can he smile on such deeds as his children have Hence, lead my daughter from her tower; done ? 2

Her fate is fix'd this very hour :
Oh! wild as the accents of lovers' farewell

Yet not to her repeat my thought;
Are the hearts which they bear, and the tales which By me alone be duty taught!"
! they tell.

“Pacha! to hear is to obey." Begirt with many a gallant slave,

No more must slave to despot sayApparell'd as becomes the brave,

Then to the tower had ta'en his way, Awaiting each his lord's behest!

But here young Selim silence brake, To guide his steps, or guard his rest,

First lowly rendering reverence meets

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

And downcast look'd and gently spake,

And glances even of more than ire
Still standing at the Pacha's feet:

Flash forth, then faintly disappear.
For son of Moslem must expire,

Old Giaffir gazed upon his son
Ere dare to sit before his sire!

And started; for within his eye

He read how much his wrath hath done;
" Pather! for fear that thou shouldst chide He saw rebellion there begun :
My sister, or her sable guide,

“Come hither, boy-what, no reply?
Know-for the fault, if fault there be,

I mark thee and I know thee too;
Was mine, then fall thy frowns on me

But there be deeds thou dar'st not do.
So lovelily the morning shone,

But if thy beard had manlier length,
That-let the old and weary sleep-

And if thy hand had skill and strength,
I could not; and to view alone

I'd joy to see thee break a lance,
The fairest scenes of land and deep,

Albeit against my own perchance."
With none to listen and reply
To thoughts with which my heart beat high As sneeringly these accents fell,
Were irksome-for whate'er'my mood,

On Selim's eye he fiercely gazed:
In sooth I love not solitude;

That eye return'd him glance for glance,
I on Zuleika's slumber broke,

And proudly to his sire's was raised,
And, as thou knowest that for me

Till Giaffir's quail'd and shrunk askance-
Soon turns the Haram's grating key,

And why-he felt, but durst not tell.
Before the guardian slaves awoke

“Much I misdoubt this wayward boy
We to the cypress groves had flown,

Will one day work me more annoy:
And made earth, main, and heaven our own. I never loved him from his birth,
There linger'd we, beguiled too long

And but his arm is little worth,
With Mejnoun's tale, or Sadi's song;'

And scarcely in the chase could cope
Till I, who heard the deep tambour *

With timid fawn or antelope,
Beat thy Divan's approaching hour,

Far less would venture into strife
To thee, and to my duty true,

Where man contends for fame and life
Warn'd by the sound, to greet thee flew :

I would not trust that look or tone;
But there Zuleika wanders yet

Nonor the blood so near my own.
Nay, father, rage not-nor forget

That blood-he hath not heard-no more
That none can pierce that secret bower

I'll watch him closer than before.
But those who watch the women's tower."

He is an Arab 5 to my sight,

Or Christian crouching in the fight-

But hark !-I hear Zuleika's voice:
“Son of a slave !"—the Pacha said,

Like Houris' hymn it meets mine ear :
"From unbelieving mother bred,

She is the offspring of my choice;
Vain were a father's hope to see

Oh! more than er'n her mother dear,
Aught that beseems a man in thee.

With all to hope, and nought to fear-
Thou, when thine arm should bend the bow, My Peri! ever welcome here !
And hurl the dart, and curb the steed,

Sweet as the desert-fountain's wave
Thou, Greek in soul if not in creed,

To lips just cool'd in time to save
Must pore where babbling waters flow,

Such to my longing sight art thou;
And watch unfolding roses blow.

Nor can they waft to Mecca's shrine
Would that yon orb, whose matin glow

More thanks for life, than I for thine,
Thy listless eyes so much admire,

Who blest thy birth, and bless thee now!
Would lend thee something of his fire!
Thou, who wouldst see this battlement

By Christian cannon piecemeal rent;

Fair, as the first that fell of womankind,
Nay, tamely view old Stambol's wall

When on that dread yet lovely serpent smiling,
Before the dogs of Moscow fall,

Whose image then was stamp'd upon her mindNor strike one stroke for life and death

But once beguiled and ever more beguiling; Against the curs of Nazareth !

Dazzling, as that, oh! too transcendant vision Go-let thy less than woman's hand

To sorrow's phantom-peopled slumber given, Assume the distaff-not the brand.

When heart meets heart again in dreams Elysian, But, Haroun !-to my daughter speed :

And paints the lost on earth revived in heaven;
And hark-of thine own head take heed-

Soft, as the memory of buried love;
If thus Zuleika oft takes wing-

Pure, as the prayer which childhood wafts above;
Thou seest yon bow-it hath a string !” Was she-the daughter of this rude old chief,

Who met the maid with tears--but not of grief.
No sound from Selim's lip was heard,

Who hath not proved how feebly words essay
At least that met old Giaffir's ear,

To fix one spark of beauty's heavenly ray?
But every frown and every word

Who doth not feel, until his failing sight
Pierced keener than a Christian's sword. Faints into dimness with its own delight,

“Son of a slave !--reproach'd with fear! His changing cheek, his sinking heart confess
Those gibes had cost another dear.

The might-the majesty of loveliness ?
Son of a slave !--and who my sire ?"

Such was Zuleika-such around her shone
Thus held his thoughts their dark career; The nameless charms unmark'd by her alone;

[ocr errors]


The light of love, the purity of grace,

IX. The mind, the music breathing from her face, His head was leant upon his hand, The hearwhose softness harmonized the whole His eye look'd o'er the dark-blue water And, oh! that eye was in itself a soul!

That swiftly glides and gently swells

Between the winding Dardanelles ; Her graceful arms in meekness bending

But yet he saw nor sca nor strand, Across her gently budding breast;

Nor even his Pacha's turban'd band At one kind word those arms extending

Mix in the game of mimic slaughter, To clasp the neck of him who blest

Careering cleave the folded felt 13 His child caressing and carest,

With sabre stroke right sharply dealt; Zuleika came and Giaffir felt

Nor mark'd the javelin-darting crowd, His purpose half within him melt:

Nor heard their Ollahs 14 wild and londNot that against her fancied weal

He thought but of old Giaffir's daughter. His heart though stern could ever feel ; Affection chain'd her to that heart; Ambition tore the links apart.

No word from Selim's bosom broke;

One sigh Zuleika's thought bespoke:

Still gazed he through the lattice grate “ Zuleika! child of gentleness !

Pale, mute, and mournfully sedate. How dear this very day must tell,

To him Zuleika's eye was turn'd, When I forget my own distress,

But little from his aspect learn'd; In losing what I love so well,

Equal her grief, yet not the same

nek To bid thee with another dwell :

Her heart confess'd a gentler flame, Another! and a braver man

But yet that heart alarm'd or weak, Was never seen in battle's van.

She knew not why, forbade to speak We Moslem reck not much of blood;

Yet speak she must-but when essay? But yet the line of Carasman

“How strange he thus should turn away!

Not thus we e'er before have met;
Unchanged, unchangeable hath stood
First of the bold Timariot bands

Not thus shall be our parting yet.”
That won and well can keep their lands.

Thrice paced she slowly through the room, Enough that he who comes to woo

And watch'd his eye-it still was fixid; Is kinsman of the Bey Oglou:

She snatch'd the urn wherein was mix'd His years need scarce a thought employ;

The Persian Atar-gul's 15 perfume, I would not have thee wed a boy.

And sprinkled albits odors o'er And thou shalt have a noble dower :

The pictured roof 16 and marble floor: And his and my united power

The drops, that through his glittering vest Will laugh to scorn the death-firman,

The playful girl's appeal addrest, Which others tremble but to scan.

Unheeded o'er his bosom flew,

As if that breast were marble too.
And teach the messenger 8 what fate
The bearer of such boon may wait.

“What, sullen yet? it must not be And now thou knowost thy father's will;

Oh! gentle Selim, this from thee!” All that thy sex hath need to know:

She saw in curious order set 'Twas mine to teach obedience still

The fairest flowers of Eastern landThe way to love thy lord may show."

He loved them once; may touch them yet,

If offer'd by Zuleika's hand.”

The childish thought was hardly breath'd VIII.

Before the rose was pluck'd and wreathed: In silence bow'd the virgin's head;

The next fond moment saw her seat And if her eye was fill'd with tears,

Her fairy form at Selim's feet: That stifled feeling dare not shed,

“ This rose to calm my brother's cares And changed her cheek from pale to red,

A message from the Bulbul 17 bears; And red to pale, as through her ears

It says to-night he will prolong Those winged words like arrows sped,

For Selim's ear his sweetest song; What could such be but maiden fears?

And though his note is somewhat sad, So bright the tear in beauty's eye,

He'll try for once a strain more glad, Love half regrets to kiss it dry ;

With some faint hope his alter'd lay
So sweet the blush of bashfulness,

May sing these gloomy thoughts away.
Even pity scarce can wish it less !
Whate'er it was the sire forgot;

Or if remember'd, mark'd it not:

“What! not receive my foolish flower ? Thrice clapp'd his hands, and call'd his steed, Nay then I am indeed unblest: Resign'd his gem-adorn'd Chibouke, lo

On me can thus thy forehead lower ? And mounting featly for the mead,

And know'st thou not who loves thee best? With Maugrabee ! and Mamaluke,

Oh, Selim dear! oh, more than dearest! His way amid his Delis took, 12

Say, is it me thou hat'st or fearest? To witness many an active deed

Come, lay thy head upon my breast, With sabre keen, and blunt jerreed.

And I will kiss thee into rest, The Kislar only and his Moors

Since words of mine, and songs must fail, Watch'd well the Haram's massy doors.

Even from my fabled nigtingale.


I knew our sire at times was stern,

I know the wretch who dares demana But this from thee had yet to learn:

From Giaffir thy reluctant hand; Too well I know he loves thee not;

More ill-got wealth, a meaner soul But is Zuleika's love forgot?

Holds not a Musselims control : Ah! deem I right? the Pacha's plan

Was he not bred in Egripo ? A This kinsman Bey of Carasman

A viler race let Israel show! l'erhaps may prove some foe of thine.

But let that pass--to none be told If so, I swear by Mecca's shrine,

Our oath ; the rest shall time unfold. If shrines that ne'er approach allow

To me and mine leave Osman Bey; To woman's step admit her vow,

I've partisans for peril's day: Without thy free consent, command,

Think not I am what I appear; The Sultan should not have my hand !

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

XIII. Where were thy friend and who my guide ? "Think not thou art what thou appearest , Years have not seen, time shall not see

My Selim, thou art sadly changed : The hour that tears my soul from thee :

This morn I saw thee gentlest, dearest; Even Azrael 18 from his deadly quiver

But now thou’rt from thyself estranged. When flies that shaft, and fly it must,

My love thou surely knew'st before, That parts all else, shall doom for ever

It ne'er was less, nor can be more. Our hearts to undivided dust!"

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,
He lived-he breathed he moved-he felt;

I dare not to my hope deny:
He raised the maid from where she knelt; Thy cheek, thine eyes, thy lips to kiss,
His trance was gone-his keen eye shone

Like this

and this-no more than this ;
With thoughts that long in darkness dwelt; For, Alla! sure thy lips are flame:
With thoughts that burn-in rays that melt. What fever in thy veins is flushing?
As the stream late conceal'd

My own have nearly caught the same,
By the fringe of its willows,

At least I feel my cheek too blushing. When it rushes reveal'd

To sooth thy siekness, watch thy health, In the light of its billows ;

Partake, but never waste thy wealth, As the bolt bursts on high

Or stand with smiles unmurmuring by, From Le black cloud that bound it,

And lighten half thy poverty; Flash'd the soul of that eye

Do all but close thy dying eye, Through the long lashes round it.

For that I could not live to try; A war-horse at the trumpet's sound,

To these alone my thoughts aspire : A lion roused by heedless hound,

More can I do? or thou require ? A tyrant waked to sudden strife

But, Selim, thou must answer why By graze of ill-directed knife,

We see so much of mystery? Starts not to more convulsive life

The cause I cannot dream nor tell, Than he, who heard that vow, display'd,

But be it, since thou say'st 'tis well; And all, before repress'd, betray'd:

Yet what thou mean'st by 'arms' and 'friends "Now thou art mine, for ever mine,

Beyond my weaker sense extends. With life to keep, and scarce with life resign ; I meant that Giaffir should have heard Now thou art mine, that sacred oath,

The very vow I plighted thee; Though sworn by one, hath bound us both. His wrath would not revoke my word: Yes, fondly, wisely hast thou done;

But surely he would leave me free. That yow hath saved more heads than one :

Can this fond wish seem strange in me, But blench not thou—thy simplest tress

To be what I have ever been ? Claims more from me than tenderness;

What other hath Zuleika seen I would not wrong the slenderest hair

From simple childhood's earliest hour? That cluster round thy forehead fair,

What other can she seek to see For all the treasures buried far

Than thee, companion of her bower, Within the caves of Istakar.19

The partner of her infancy? This morning clouds upon me lower'd,

These cherish'd thoughts with life begun, Reproaches on my head were shower'd,

Say, why must I no more avow ? And Giaffir almost called me coward !

What change is wrought to make me shun Now I have motive to be brave;

The truth; my pride, and thine till now? The son of his neglected slave,

To meet the gaze of stranger's eyes Nay, start not 'twas the term he gave,

Our law, our creed, our God denies ; May show, though little apt to vaunt,

Nor shall one wandering thought of mine A heart his words nor deeds can daunt.

At such, our Prophet's will repine: His son, indeed !--get, thanks to thee,

No! happier made by that decree! Perchance I am, at least shall be ;

He left me all in leaving thee. But let our plighted secret vow

Deep were my anguish, thus compellid Be only known te us as now

To wed with one I ne'er beheld:

« 前へ次へ »