I.

Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle
Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime,
Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle,
Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime?
Know ye the land of the cedar and vine,
Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine:
Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppress'd with
perfume,

Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gul in her bloom;
Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit,
And the voice of the nightingale never is mute:
Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky,
In color though varied, in beauty may vie,
And the purple of ocean is deepest in dye;
Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine,
And all, save the spirit of man, is divine?
Tis the clime of the East; 'tis the land of the Sun—
Can he smile on such deeds as his children have

done

The "Bride of Abydos" was published in the begining of December, 1813. The mood of mind in which it as struck off is thus stated by Lord Byron, in a letter to Mr. Gifford: You have been good enough to look at a thing of mine in MS-a Turkish story--and I should feel granted if you would do it the same favor in its probationary state of printing. It was written, I cannot say for usement, nor obliged by hunger and request of friends,' bat in a state of mind, from circumstances which oceasionally occur to us youth,' that rendered it necessary for me to apply my mind to something, any thing, but reality; and under this not very brilliant inspiration it was composed. Send it either to the flames, or A hundred hawkers' load, On wings of winds to fly or fall abroad.'

It deserves no better than the first, as the work of a week, and scribbled 'stans pede in uno' (by the by, the only foot I have to stand on ;) and I promise never to trouble you again under forty cantos, and a voyage between each."]

Oh! wild as the accents of lovers' farewell Are the hearts which they bear, and the tales which they tell.

II.

Begirt with many a gallant slave,
Apparell'd as becomes the brave,
Awaiting each his lord's behest
To guide his steps, or guard his rest,
Old Giaffir sate in his Divan:

Deep thought was in his aged eye;
And though the face of Mussulman
Not oft betrays to standers by
The mind within, well skill'd to hide
All but unconquerable pride,

His pensive cheek and pondering brow Did more than he was wont avow.

2 ["Murray tells me that Croker asked him why the thing is called the Bride of Abydos? It is an awkward question, being unanswerable: she is not a bride; only about to be one. I don't wonder at his finding out the Bull; but the detection is too late to do any good. I was a great fool to have made it, and am ashamed of not being an Irishman." -Byron Diary, Dec. 6, 1813.]

[To the Bride of Abydos, Lord Byron made many addi tions during its progress through the press, amounting to about two hundred lines; and, as in the case of the Giaour, the passages so added will be seen to be some of the most splendid in the whole poem. These opening lines, which are among the new insertions, are supposed to have been suggested by a song of Goethe's-

"Kennst du das Land wo die citronen blühn."] 4" Gul," the rose.

"Souls made of fire, and children of the Sun,
With whom revenge is virtue."-YOUNG's Revenge.

Hence, lead my daughter from her tower;
Her fate is fix'd this very hour:
Yet not to her repeat my thought;
By me alone be duty taught!"

"Pacha! to hear is to obey."

No more must slave to despot say-
Then to the tower had ta'en his way,
But here young Selim silence brake,

First lowly rendering reverence meet;
And downcast look'd, and gently spake,
Still standing at the Pacha's feet:
For son of Moslem must expire,
Ere dare to sit before his sire!

"Father! for fear that thou shouldst chide
My sister, or her sable guide,
Know-for the fault, if fault there be,
Was mine, then fall thy frowns on me-
So lovelily the morning shone,

That let the old and weary sleep

I could not; and to view alone

The fairest scenes of land and deep, With none to listen and reply

To thoughts with which my heart beat high Were irksome-for whate'er my mood,

In sooth I love not solitude;

I on Zuleika's slumber broke,

And, as thou knowest that for me

Soon turns the harem's grating key,

Before the guardian slaves awoke
We to the cypress groves had flown,

And made earth, main, and heaven our own!
There linger'd we, beguiled too long
With Mejnoun's tale, or Sadi's song;'
Till I, who heard the deep tambour2
Beat thy Divan's approaching hour,
To thee, and to my duty true,

Warn'd by the sound, to greet thee flew :
But there Zuleika wanders yet-
Nay, Father, rage not-nor forget
That none can pierce that secret bower
But those who watch the women's tower."

IV.

"Son of a slave"-the Pacha said

"From unbelieving mother bred,
Vain were a father's hope to see
Aught that beseems a man in thee.

Thou, when thine arm should bend the bow,
And hurl the dart, and curb the steed,
Thou, Greek in soul if not in creed,
Must pore where babbling waters flow,
And watch unfolding roses blow.
Would that yon orb, whose matin glow
Thy listless eyes so much admire,
Would lend thee something of his fire!
Thou, who wouldst see this battlement
By Christian cannon piecemeal rent;
Nay, tamely view old Stambol's wall
Before the dogs of Moscow fall,
Nor strike one stroke for life and death
Against the curs of Nazareth!
Go-let thy less than woman's hand
Assume the distaff-not the brand.

1 Mejnoun and Leila, the Romeo and Juliet of the East. Sadi, the moral poet of Persia.

2 Turkish drum, which sounds at sunrise, noon, and twi

No sound from Selim's lip was heard,
At least that met old Giaffir's ear,
But every frown and every word
Pierced keener than a Christian's sword.
"Son of a slave !-reproach'd with fear!
Those gibes had cost another dear.
Son of a slave !-and who my sire?"
Thus held his thoughts their dark career;
And glances ev'n of more than ire
Flash forth, then faintly disappear.
Old Giaffir gazed upon his son

And started; for within his eye
He read how much his wrath had done;
He saw rebellion there begun :

"Come hither, boy-what, no reply?
I mark thee-and I know thee too;
But there be deeds thou dar'st not do:
But if thy beard had manlier length,
And if thy hand had skill and strength,
I'd joy to see thee break a lance,
Albeit against my own perchance.”

As sneeringly these accents fell,
On Selim's eye he fiercely gazed:

That eye return'd him glance for glance And proudly to his sire's was raised,

Till Giaffir's quail'd and shrunk askanceAnd why he felt, but durst not tell. "Much I misdoubt this wayward boy Will one day work me more annoy : I never loved him from his birth, And--but his arm is little worth, And scarcely in the chase could cope With timid fawn or antelope,

Far less would venture into strife

Where man contends for fame and life—

I would not trust that look or tone:
No-nor the blood so near my own.
That blood-he hath not heard-no more-
I'll watch him closer than before.
He is an Arab3 to my sight,
Or Christian crouching in the fight-
But hark-I hear Zuleika's voice;

Like Houris' hymn it meets mine ear:
She is the offspring of my choice;

Oh! more than ev'n her mother dear,
With all to hope, and naught to fear-
My Peri! ever welcome here!
Sweet, as the desert fountain's wave,
To lips just cool'd in time to save-

Such to my longing sight art thou;
Nor can they waft to Mecca's shrine
More thanks for life, than I for thine,

Who blest thy birth, and bless thee now."

VI.

Fair, as the first that fell of womankind,
When on that dread yet lovely serpent smiling,

The Turks abhor the Arabs (who return the compli ment a hundred-fold) even more than they hate the Chris tians.