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BEAUTIFUL AND PASSIONATE ABJURATION,
I pray thee, as thou lov'st me, fly -
Can waft us o'er yon dark’ning sea
So thou art safe, -- and I with thee!
eyes before me beaming thus,
The world's a world of love for us !
at any god's, for thine!'
Then hung her head, and wept for shame;
With ev'ry deep-heav'd sob that came.”—p. 261, 262.
Hafed is more shocked with the treachery to which he is sacrificed than with the fate to which it consigns him: – One moment he gives up to softness and pity — assures Hinda, with compassionate equivocation, that they shall soon meet on some more peaceful shore — places her sadly in a litter, and sees her borne down the steep to the galley she had lately quitted, and to which she still expects that he is to follow her. He then assembles his brave and devoted companions — warns them of the fate that is approaching - and exhorts them to meet the host of the invaders in the ravine, and sell their lives dearly to their steel. After a fierce, and somewhat too sanguinary combat, the Ghebers are at last borne down by numbers; and Hafed finds himself left alone, with one brave associate, mortally wounded like himself. They make a desperate effort to reach and die beside the consecrated fire which burns for ever on the summit of the cliff.
“The crags are red they've clamber'd o'er,
The rock-weed's dripping with their gore
CATASTROPHE OF THE LOVERS.
Thy blade, too, Hafed, false at length,
Now Hafed sees the Fire divine -
Dead, on the threshold of the Shrine,
And must I leave thee with’ring here,
• The mark for every coward's spear?
And fires the pile, whose sudden blaze
Now, Freedom's God! I come to Thee!'
Have harm'd one glorious limb, expires !"— p. 278, 279. The unfortunate Hinda, whose galley had been detained close under the cliff by the noise of the first onset, had heard with agony the sounds which marked the progress and catastrophe of the fight, and is at last a spectatress of the lofty fate of her lover.
what moves upon the height?
What bodes its solitary glare ?
Its melancholy radiance sent;
Shrin'd in its own grand element !
“ But see —
- THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM.
« 'Tis he! - the shudd'ring maid exclaims, –
But, while she speaks, he's seen no more !
And Iran's hopes and hers are o'er !
Then sprung, as if to reach that blaze,
Where still she fix'd her dying gaze,
p. 283, 281. This sad story is closed by a sort of choral dirge, of great elegance and beauty, of which we can only afford to give the first stanza.
Farewell - farewell to thee, Araby's daughter !
(Thus warbled a Peri beneath the dark sea) No pearl ever lay, under Oman's green water, More
pure in its shell than thy Spirit in thee.” — p. 281. The general tone of this poem is certainly too much strained. It is overwrought throughout, and is too entirely made up of agonies and raptures ; — but, in spite of all this, it is a work of great genius and beauty; and not only delights the fancy by its general brilliancy and spirit, but moves all the tender and noble feelings with a deep and powerful agitation.
The last piece, entitled “ The Light of the Haram," is the gayest of the whole; and is of a very slender fabric as to fable or invention. In truth, it has scarcely any story at all; but is made up almost entirely of beautiful songs and descriptions. During the summer months, when the court is resident in the Vale of Cashmere, there is, it seems, a sort of oriental carnival, called the Feast of Roses, during which every body is bound to be happy and in good humour. At this critical period, the Emperor Selim had unfortunately a little love-quarrel with his favourite Sultana Nourmahal, — which signifies, it seems, the Light of the Haram. The lady is rather unhappy while the sullen fit is on her; and applies to a sort of enchantress, who invokes a musical spirit to teach her an irresistible song, which she sings in a mask to the offended monarch; and when his heart is subdued by its sweetness, throws off her mask, and springs with
THE HAPPY VALLEY.
fonder welcome than ever into his repentant arms.
The whole piece is written in a kind of rapture,
as if the author had breathed nothing but intoxicating gas during its composition. It is accordingly quite filled with lively images and splendid expressions, and all sorts of beauties,
except those of reserve or simplicity. We must give a few specimens, to revive the spirits of our readers after the tragic catastrophe of Hafed; and we may begin with this portion of the description of the IIappy Valley.
- Oh! to see it by moonlight, — when mellowly shines
And Day, with his banner of radiance unfuri'd,
Sublime, from that Valley of bliss to the world !
- p. 296.
· The character of Nourmahal's beauty is much in the same taste: though the diction is rather more loose and careless.
“There's a beauty, for ever unchangingly bright,
Like the long sunny lapse of a summer day's light,
Then her mirth -oh! 'twas sportive as ever took wing
fair lake that the breeze is upon, When it breaks into dimples and laughs in the sun." - p. 302, 303, We can give but a little morsel of the enchanting Song of the Spirit of Music. "For mine is the lay that lightly floats,
And mine are the murm’ring, dying notes,
Refines the bosom it trembles through,
Ruffles the wave, but sweetens it too!
• The warrior's heart, when touch'd by me,
When Music has reach'd her inward soul,
While Heav'n's eternal melodies roll!'"- p. 518, 319.
Nourmahal herself, however, in her Arabian disguise, sings a still more prevailing ditty - of which we can only insert a few stanzas.
". Fly to the desert, fly with me!
Our Arab tents are rude for thee;