"I will myself uncurtain in your sight
"The wonders of this brow's incffable light;
"Then lead you forth, and with a wink disperse
"Yon myriads, howling through the universe !"

Eager they listen - while each accent darts
New life into their chill'd and hope-sick hearts;-
Such treacherous life as the cool draught supplies
To him upon the stake, who drinks and dies!
Wildly they point their lances to the light
Of the fast sinking sun, and shout "to-night!"-
66 To-night," their Chief re-echoes, in a voice
Of fiend-like mockery that bids hell rejoice!
Deluded victims never hath this earth

Seen mourning half so mournful as their mirth!
Here, to the few, whose iron frames had stood
This racking waste of famine and of blood,
Faint, dying wretches clung, from whom the shout
Of triumph like a maniac's laugh broke out;·
There, others, lighted by the smouldering fire,
Danc'd, like wan ghosts about a funeral pyre,
Among the dead and dying, strew'd around;-
While some pale wretch look'd on, and from his wound

Plucking the fiery dart by which he bled,
In ghastly transport wav'd it o'er his head!

pause

'Twas more than midnight now a fearful
Had follow'd the long shouts, the wild applause,
That lately from those Royal Gardens burst,
Where the Veil'd demon held his feast accurst,
When ZELICA-alas, poor ruin'd heart,
In every horror doom'd to bear its part!-
Was bidden to the banquet by a slave,
Who, while his quivering lip the summons gave,
Grew black, as though the shadows of the grave
Compass'd him round, and, ere he could repeat
His message through, fell lifeless at her feet!

Shuddering she went a soul-felt pang of fear,

A presage, that her own dark doom was near,
Rous'd every feeling, and brought Reason back
Once

more, to writhe her last upon the rack.

All round seem'd tranquil-ev'n the foe had ceas'd, As if aware of that demoniac feast,

His fiery bolts; and though the heavens look'd red, 'Twas but some distant conflagration's spread.

But hark!—she stops she listens dreadful tone!

--

'Tis her Tormentor's laugh — and now, a groan

A long death-groan comes with it—can this be The place of mirth, the bower of revelry? ⚫ She enters - Holy ALLA, what a sight

Was there before her! By the glimmering light
Of the pale dawn, mix'd with the flare of brands
That round lay burning, dropp'd from lifeless hands,
She saw the board, in splendid mockery spread,
Rich censers breathing-garlands overhead,—
The urns, the cups, from which they late had quaff'd,
All gold and gems, but what had been the draught?
Oh! who need ask, that saw those livid guests,

With their swoll'n heads sunk blackening on their breasts,

Or looking pale to heav'n with glassy glare,

As if they sought but saw no mercy there;

As if they felt, though poison rack'd them through,
Remorse the deadlier torment of the two!

While some, the bravest, hardiest in the train
Of their false Chief, who on the battle-plain

Would have met death with transport by his side,

Here mute and helpless gasp'd; but as they died,

Look'd horrible vengeance with their eyes' last strain, And clench'd the slackening hand at him in vain.

I

Dreadful it was to see the ghastly stare,
The stony look of horror and despair,
Which some of these expiring victims cast
Upon their souls' tormentor to the last; -

Upon that mocking Fiend, whose Veil, now rais'd,
Show'd them, as in death's agony they gaz'd,

Not the long promis'd light, the brow, whose beaming
Was to come forth, all conquering, all redeeming,
But features horribler than Hell e'er trac'd

On its own brood; no Demon of the Waste,

2

No church-yard Ghole, caught lingering in the light Of the bless'd sun, e'er blasted human sight

With lineaments so foul, so fierce as those

Th' Impostor now, in grinning mockery, shows

"There, ye wise Saints, behold your Light, your Star,"Ye would be dupes and victims, and ye are. "Is it enough? or must I, while a thrill "Lives in your sapient bosoms, cheat you still?

2 "The Afghauns believe each of the numerous solitudes and deserts of their country, to be inhabited by a lonely demon, whom they call the Ghoolee Beeabau, or Spirit of the Waste. They often illustrate the wildness of any sequestered tribe, by saying, they are wild as the Demon of the Waste.". ·Elphinstone's Caubul.

"Swear that the burning death ye feel within,
"Is but the trance, with which heav'n's joys begin;
"That this foul visage, foul as e'er disgrac'd

"Ev'n monstrous man, is after God's own taste;
"And that- but see!ere I have half-way said
"My greetings through, th' uncourteous souls are fled.
"Farewell, sweet spirits! not in vain ye die,

"If EBLIS loves you half so well as I.

"Ha, my young bride!-'tis well-take thou thy seat; Nay come-no shuddering-did'st thou never meet "The Dead before?—they grac'd our wedding, sweet; "And these, my guests to-night, have brimm'd so true> "Their parting cups, that thou shalt pledge one too. "But-how is this?—all empty? all drunk up? "Hot lips have been before thee in the cup,

"Young bride,—yet stay-one precious drop remains, "Enough to warm a gentle Priestess' veins ; —— "Here, drink-and should thy lover's conquering arms "Speed hither, ere thy lip lose all its charms, "Give him but half this venom in thy kiss, "And I'll forgive my haughty rival's bliss!

"For me

I too must die but not like these

"Vile, rankling things, to fester in the breeze;