"But cheer thee, maid, the wind that now "Is blowing o'er thy feverish brow, "To-day shall waft thee from the shore; "And, ere a drop of this night's gore "Have time to chill in yonder towers, "Thou'lt see thy own sweet Arab bowers !" His bloody boast was all too true There lurk'd one wretch among the few One miscreant, who for gold betray'd Left on the field last dreadful night, He lay but died not with the brave That sun, which should have gilt his grave, And, while the few, who thence return'd To their high rocky fortress, mourn'd They left behind on glory's bed, He liv'd, and, in the face of morn, Laugh'd them and Faith and Heaven to scorn! Oh for a tongue to curse the slave, Be drugg'd with treacheries to the brim, With joys, that vanish while he sips, His country's curse, his children's shame, Just Prophet, let the damn'd-one dwell Full in the sight of Paradise, Beholding heaven, and feeling hell! LALLA ROOKH had had a dream the night before, which, in spite of the impending fate of poor HAFED, made her heart more than usually cheerful during the morning, and gave her cheeks all the freshened animation of a flower that the Bid-musk has just passed over. She fancied that she was sailing on that Eastern Ocean, where the sea-gipsies, who live for ever on the water, enjoy a perpetual summer in wandering from isle to isle, when she saw a small gilded bark approaching her. It was like one of those boats which the Maldivian islanders annually send adrift, at the mercy of winds and waves, loaded with perfumes, flowers, and odoriferous wood, as an offering to the Spirit whom they call King of the Sea. At first, this little bark appeared to be empty, but, on coming nearer She had proceeded thus far in relating the dream to her Ladies, when FERAMORZ appeared at the door of the pavilion. In his presence, of course, every thing else was forgotten, and the continuance of the story was instantly requested by all. Fresh wood of aloes the violet sherbets was set to burn in the cassolets; were hastily handed round, and, after a short prelude on his lute, in the pathetic measure of Nava, which is always used to express the lamentations of absent lovers, the Poet thus continued: THE day is lowering—stilly black Sleeps the grim wave, while heaven's rack, Dispers'd and wild, 'twixt earth and sky Hangs like a shatter'd canopy! There's not a cloud in that blue plain But tells of storm to come or past; Here, flying loosely as the mane Of a young war-horse in the blast; — There, roll'd in masses dark and swelling, As proud to be the thunder's dwelling! While some, already burst and riven, Seem melting down the verge of heaven; As though the infant storm had rent The mighty womb that gave him birth, And, having swept the firmament, Was now in fierce career for earth. 2 |