PARADISE AND THE PERI. [Thomas Moore, born in Dublin, 28th May, 1779, died 25th February, 1852. As a song-writer, Christopher North esteemed him as the best "that ever warbled, or chanted, or sung." But he also distinguished himself as a miscellaneous writer and as a biographer. He was a great favourite in private and public life, yet he was as severely condemned by many critics as any author who ever wrote. Lalla Rookh is his most important work, and it is regarded as one of the most perfect series of pictures of eastern life, manners, and scenery, although the poet obtained all his knowledge of the East from the study of books of travel. One critic declared that reading Lalla Rookh was "as good as riding on the back of a camel." D. M. Moir in his Sketches of Poetical Literature says of it: "Its great charm consists in the romance of its situations and characters, the splendour of its diction and style, and the prodigal copiousness of its imagery." The following is one of the four poems of which Lalla Rookh is composed.] One morn a PERI at the gate Of life within, like music flowing, Through the half-open portal glowing, She wept to think her recreant race Should ere have lost that glorious place. "How happy," exclaim'd this child of air, "Are the holy spirits that wander there, 'Mid flowers that never shall fade or fall; Though mine are the gardens of earth and sea, And the stars themselves have flowers for me, One blossom of heaven outblows them all! "Though sunny the lake of cool CASHMERE, With its plane-tree isle reflected clear,2 And sweetly the founts of that valley fall; Though bright are the waters of SING-SU-HAY, And the golden floods that thitherward stray,3 Yet-oh 'tis only the bless'd can say How the waters of Heaven outshine them all! 1 Mr. Murray paid three thousand guineas for Lalla Rookh, and it is to the credit of the poet that he sent two-thirds of that sum to his parents. As another instance of the high prices Moore received for his work, it is mentioned that he received altogether for his Irish melodies £15,000-which is computed to be at the rate of six pounds per line! 2 Numerous small islands emerge from the Lake of Cashmere. One is called Char Chenaur, from the planetrees upon it.-Forster. 3 The Altan Kol or Golden River of Tibet, which runs into the Lakes of Sing su-Hay, has abundance of gold in its sands, which employs the inhabitants all the summer in gathering it."-Description of Tibet in Pinkerton. "Go wing thy flight from star to star, From world to luminous world, as far As the universe spreads its flaming wall; Take all the pleasures of all the spheres, And multiply each through endless yearsOne minute of Heaven is worth them all!" The glorious angel, who was keeping From Eden's fountain when it lies "Nymph of a fair, but erring line!" Gently he said- "One hope is thine. "Tis written in the book of fate, The Peri yet may be forgiven Who brings to this Eternal Gate The gift that is most dear to Heaven! Go, seek it, and redeem thy sin;"Tis sweet to let the pardon'd in!" Rapidly as comets run To the embraces of the sun;- And lighted earthward by a glance But whither shall the spirit go 7 "The Brahmins of this province insist that the blue Campac flowers only in Paradise."-Sir W. Jones. 5 "The Mahometans suppose that falling-stars are the firebrands wherewith the good angels drive away the bad, when they approach too near the empyreum or verge of the heavens."-Fryer. The Forty Pillars; so the Persians call the ruins of Persepolis. It is imagined by them that this palace and the edifices at Balbec were built by Genii, for the purpose of hiding in their subterraneous caverns immense treasures which still remain there.-D'Herbelot, Volney. 7 The Isles of Panchaia. 8"The cup of Jamshid, discovered, they say, when digging for the foundations of Persepolis."-Richardson. With life's elixir sparkling high- While thus she mused, her pinions fann'd But crimson now her rivers ran With human blood-the smell of death Came reeking from those spicy bowers, And man, the sacrifice of man, Mingled his taint with every breath Upwafted from the innocent flowers! Land of the sun! what foot invades Thy pagods and thy pillar'd shades, Thy cavern shrines and idol stones, Thy monarchs and their thousand thrones? 'Tis he of GAZNA,1-fierce in wrath He comes, and India's diadems Lie scatter'd in his ruinous path. His blood-hounds he adorns with Torn from the violated necks gems, Of many a young and loved Sultana;2. Maidens within their pure Zenana, Priests in the very fane he slaughters, And chokes up with the glittering wrecks Of golden shrines the sacred waters! Downward the PERI turns her gaze; Alone, beside his native river,- All crimson with his country's blood, Yet mark'd the PERI where he lay; And when the rush of war was past, Swiftly descending on a ray Of morning light, she caught the lastLast glorious drop his heart had shed, Before its free-born spirit fled! "Be this," she cried, as she winged her flight, It would not stain the purest rill From the heart that bleeds and breaks in her cause!" "Sweet," said the angel, as she gave Her first fond hope of Eden blighted, Now among AFRIC's lunar mountains,3 Far to the south, the PERI lighted; And sleek'd her plumage at the fountains Of that Egyptian tide,-whose birth Is hidden from the sons of earth, Deep in those solitary woods Whereof the Genii of the Floods Dance round the cradle of their Nile, And hail the new-born giant's smile! Thence over EGYPT'S palmy groves, Her grots and sepulchres of kings, The exiled Spirit sighing roves; And now hangs listening to the doves In warm ROSETTA'S vale-now loves To watch the moonlight on the wings Of the white pelicans that break The azure calm of MORIS' lake.5 "Twas a fair scene-a land more bright Never did mortal eye behold! Who could have thought that saw this night, Those valleys and their fruits of gold Basking in heaven's serenest light;Those groups of lovely date-trees bending Languidly their leaf-crown'd heads, Like youthful maids, when sleep descending, Warns them to their silken beds; 3 "The Mountains of the Moon, or the Montes Lunæ of antiquity, at the foot of which the Nile is supposed to arise."-Bruce. "The orchards of Rosetta are filled with turtledoves."-Sonnini. 5 Savary mentions the pelicans upon lake Mæris. Those virgin lilies all the night Bathing their beauties in the lake Amid whose fairy loneliness Nought but the lapwing's cry is heard, Upon a column motionless, Who could have thought that there, even there, The sun went down on many a brow, Which, full of bloom and freshness then, Is rankling in the pest-house now, And ne'er will feel that sun again! And oh! to see the unburied heaps On which the lonely moonlight sleeps-The very vultures turn away, And sicken at so foul a prey! Only the fierce hyæna stalks 2 Throughout the city's desolate walks At midnight, and his carnage plies Woe to the half-dead wretch, who meets The glaring of those large blue eyes Amid the darkness of the streets! "Poor race of men!" said the pitying spirit, "Dearly ye pay for your primal fall; Some flow'rets of Eden ye still inherit, But the trail of the serpent is over them all!” She wept the air grew pure and clear Around her, as the bright drops ran, Such kindly spirits weep for man! Had thither stolen to die alone 1 Sonnini describes this beautiful bird. 2 This circumstance has been introduced into poetry; -by Vincentius Fabricius, by Darwin, and lately, with very powerful effect, by Mr. Wilson. One who in life where'er he moved, Drew after him the hearts of many; Yet, now, as though he ne'er were loved, Dies here unseen, unwept by any! None to watch near him-none to slake The fire that in his bosom lies, With even a sprinkle from that lake Which shines so cool before his eyes. No voice, well known through many a day, To speak the last, the parting word, Which, when all other sounds decay, Is still like distant music heard. That tender farewell on the shore Of this rude world when all is o'er, Which cheers the spirit, ere its bark Puts off into the unknown dark. Deserted youth! one thought alone Shed joy around his soul in deathThat she, whom he for years had known, And loved, and might have call'd his own, Was safe from this foul midnight's breath;Safe in her father's princely halls, Where the cool airs from fountain-falls, Freshly perfumed by many a brand Of the sweet wood from India's land, Were pure as she whose brow they fann'd. But see,-who yonder comes by stealth, Than live to gain the world beside!— His livid cheek to hers she presses, And dips, to bind his burning brow, In the cool lake her loosen'd tresses. Ah! once how little did he think An hour would come, when he should shrink With horror from that dear embrace, Those gentle arms that were to him Of Eden's infant cherubim! The blessed air that's breathed by thee, Nay, turn not from me that dear faceAm I not thine-thy own loved brideThe one, the chosen one, whose place In life or death is by thy side! Think'st thou that she, whose only light In this dim world from thee hath shone, Could bear the long, the cheerless night, That must be hers, when thou art gone? That I can live, and let thee go, Who art my life itself?-No, noWhen the stem dies, the leaf that grew Out of its heart must perish too. Then turn to me, my own love, turn, Before like thee I fade and burn; Cling to these yet cool lips, and share The last pure life that lingers there." She fails-she sinks-as dies the lamp In charnel airs or cavern-damp, So quickly do his baleful sighs Quench all the sweet light of her eyes: One struggle,-and his pain is past.— Her lover is no longer living! One kiss the maiden gives, one last, Long kiss, which she expires in giving. "Sleep!" said the PERI, as softly she stole Thus saying, from her lips she spread Unearthly breathings through the place, That like two lovely saints they seem'd Watch o'er them, till their souls would waken! But morn is blushing in the sky; Again the PERI soars above, High throbb'd her heart, with hope elate, 1"In the East, they suppose the Phoenix to have fifty orifices in his bill, which are continued to his tail; and that, after living one thousand years, he builds himself a funeral pile, sings a melodious air of different harmonies through his fifty organ-pipes, flaps his wings with a velocity which sets fire to the wood, and consumes himself."-Richardson. And she already hears the trees Of Eden with their crystal bells, Ringing in that ambrosial breeze That from the throne of ALLA swells; And she can see the starry bowls That lie around that lucid lake He shut from her that glimpse of glory-- To one who look'd from upper air Of the warm west,-as if inlaid With brilliants from the mine, or made The unclouded skies of PERISTAN! But nought can charm the luckless PERI; 2 Vide Bruce's Travels. 3 The Temple of the Sun at Balbec. PARADISE AND THE PERI. Whose lonely columns stand sublime, Flinging their shadows from on high Like dials, which the wizard, Time, Had raised to count his ages by! Yet haply there may lie conceal'd With the great name of SOLOMON, Cheer'd by this hope she bends her thither;- From his hot steed, and on the brink Impatient fling him down to drink. Yet tranquil now that man of crime Met that unclouded, joyous gaze, 1 Vide Sonnini. But hark! the vesper-call to prayer, From SYRIA's thousand minarets! Kneels, with his forehead to the south, Lisping th' eternal name of God From purity's own cherub mouth, And looking, while his hands and eyes Are lifted to the glowing skies, Like a stray babe of paradise, And seeking for its home again! Oh 'twas a sight-that Heaven-that Child- For glories lost and peace gone by! And how felt he, the wretched man I look'd and pray'd like thee-but now"- And hope and feeling, which had slept From boyhood hour, that instant came Fresh o'er him, and he wept-he wept! Bless'd tears of soul-felt penitence, Is felt the first, the only sense Of guiltless joy that guilt can know. "There is a drop," said the PERI, "that down from the moon Falls through the withering airs of June The precious tears of repentance fall! One heavenly drop hath dispell'd them all!" And now-behold him kneeling there By the child's side in humble prayer, While the same sunbeam shines upon The guilty and the guiltless one, And hymns of joy proclaim through Heaven The triumph of a soul forgiven! 2 The Nucta or Miraculous Drop, which falls in Egypt precisely on St. John's day, in June, and is supposed to have the effect of stopping the plague. |