These dazzling eyes, before whose shrouded might
Thou'st seen immortal Man kneel down and quake-
Would that they were heaven's lightnings for his sake!
But turn and look-then wonder if thou wilt
That I should hate, should take revenge, by guilt,
Upon the hand, whose mischief or whose mirth
Sent me thus maim'd and monstrous upon earth!
And on that race who, though more vile they be
Than mowing apes, are demi-gods to me!
Here-judge if hell, with all its power to damn,
Can add one curse to the foul thing I am!"-

He raised his veil-the Maid turn'd slowly round, Look'd at him-shriek'd-and sunk upon the ground:

On their arrival, next night, at the place of encampment, they were surprised and delighted to find the groves all around illuminated; some artists of Yamtcheou having been sent on previously for the purpose. On each side of the green alley which led to the Royal Pavilion, artificial sceneries of bamboo-work were erected, representing arches, minarets, and towers, from which hung thousands of silken lanterns, painted by the most delicate pencils of Canton. Nothing could be mote beautiful than the leaves of the mango-trees and acacias, shining in the light of the bamboo-scenery, which shed a lustre round as soft as that of the nights of Peristan.

LALLA ROOKH, however, who was too much occupied by the sad story of ZELICA and her lover to give a thought to anything else, except, perhaps, him who related it, hurried on through this scene of splendour to her pavilion,-greatly to the mortification of the poor artists of Yamtcheou,-and was followed with equal rapidity by the Great Chamberlain, cursing, as he went, that ancient Mandarin, whose parental anxiety, in lighting up the shores of the lake, where his beloved daughter had wandered and been lost, was the origin of these fantastic Chinese illuminations.

Without a moment's delay young FERAMORZ was introduced, and FADLADEEN, who could never make up his mind as to the merits of a poet, till he knew the religious sect to which he belonged, was about to ask him whether he was a Shia or a Sooni, when LALLA ROOKH impatiently clapped her hands for silence, and the youth, being seated upon the musnud near her, proceeded :—

PREPARE thy soul, young AZIM!-thou hast brav'd
The bands of GREECE, still mighty though enslav'd;
Hast fac'd her phalanx, arm'd with all its fame,
Her Macedonian pikes and globes of flame;
All this hast fronted, with firm heart and brow,
But a more perilous trial waits thee now,-
Woman's bright eyes, a dazzling host of eyes
From every land where woman smiles or sighs;
Of every hue, as Love may chance to raise
His black or azure banner in their blaze;
And each sweet mode of warfare, from the flash
That lightens boldly through the shadowy lash,
To the sly, stealing splendours, almost hid,
Like swords half-sheath'd, beneath the downcast lid;
Such, AZIM, is the lovely, luminous host

Now led against thee; and, let conq'rors boast
Their fields of fame, he who in virtue arms.

A young, warm spirit against beauty's char

Who feels her brightness, yet defies her thrall,
Is the best, bravest conq'ror of them all.

Now, through the Haram chambers, moving lights And busy shapes proclaim the toilet's rites ;From room to room the ready handmaids hie, Some skill'd to wreathe the turban tastefully, Or hang the veil, in negligence of shade, O'er the warm blushes of the youthful maid, Who, if between the folds but one eye shone, Like SEBA'S Queen could vanquish with that one:While some bring leaves of Henna, to imbue

The fingers' ends with a bright roseate hue,

So bright, that in the mirror's depth they seem
Like tips of coral branches in the stream:

And others mix the Kohol's jetty dye,

To give that long, dark languish to the eye,

Which makes the maids, whom kings are proud to cul
From fair Circassia's vales, so' beautiful.

All is in motion; rings and plumes and pearls
Are shining ev'rywhere:-some younger girls

Are gone by moonlight to the garden-beds,
To gather fresh, cool chaplets for their heads;
Gay creatures sweet, though mournful, 'tis to see
How each prefers a garland from that tree
Which brings to mind her childhood's innocent day,
And the dear fields and friendships far away.
The maid of INDIA, blest again to hold
In her full lap the Champac's leaves of gold,
Thinks of the time when, by the GANGES' flood,
Her little playmates scatter'd many a bud
Upon her long black hair, with glossy gleam
Just dripping from the consecrated stream:
While the young Arab, haunted by the smell
Of her own mountain flow'rs, as by a spell-
The sweet Elcaya, and that courteous tree
Which bows to all who seek its canopy-
Sees, call'd up round her by these magic scents,
The well, the camels, and her father's tents;
Sighs for the home she left with little pain,
And wishes ev'n its sorrows back again!

Meanwhile, through vast illuminated halls, Silent and bright, where nothing but the falls

Of fragrant waters, gushing with cold sound
From many a jasper fount, is heard around,
Young AZIM roams bewilder'd,-nor can guess
What means this maze of light and loneliness.
Here, the way leads, o'er tessellated floors
Or mats of CAIRO, through long corridors,
Where, rang'd in cassolets and silver urns,
Sweet wood of aloe or of sandal burns;
And spicy rods, such as illume at night
The bow'rs of TIBET, send forth odorous light,
Like Peris' wands, when pointing out the road.
For some pure Spirit to its blest abode:-
And here, at once, the glittering saloon

Bursts on his sight, boundless and bright as noon
Where, in the midst, reflecting back the rays
In broken rainbows, a fresh fountain plays
High as th' enamell'd cupola, which tow'rs
All rich with Arabesques of gold and flow'rs:
And the mosaic floor beneath shines through
The sprinkling of that fountain's silv'ry dew,
Like the wet glist'ning shells, of ev'ry dye,
That on the margin of the Red Sea lie.

Here too he traces the kind visitings Of woman's love in those fair, living things Of land and wave, whose fate-in bondage thrown For their weak loveliness-is like her own! On one side gleaming with a sudden grace Through water, brilliant as the crystal vase In which it undulates, small fishes shine, Like golden ingots from a fairy mine; While, on the other, lattic'd lightly in With odoriferous woods of COMORIN, Each brilliant bird that wings the air is seen ;— Gay, sparkling loories, such as gleam between

The crimson blossoms of the coral tree

In the warm isles of India's sunny sea:
Mecca's blue sacred pigeon, and the thrush
Of Hindostan, whose holy warblings gush,
At evening, from the tall pagoda's top;
Those golden birds that, in the spice-time, drop
About the gardens, drunk with that sweet food
Whose scent hath lur'd them o'er the summer flood;

And those that under Araby's soft sun.
Build their high nests of budding cinnamon;
In short, all rare and beauteous things, that fly
Through the pure element, here calmly lie
Sleeping in light, like the green birds that dwell
In Eden's radiant fields of asphodel!

So on, through scenes past all imagining, More like the luxuries of that impious King,12 Whom Death's dark Angel, with his lightning torch Struck down and blasted ev'n in Pleasure's porch,