MOKANNA, and alone!" they shout around;

Young AZIM from his steed springs to the ground

"Mine, Holy Caliph! mine," he cries, "the task

To crush yon daring wretch-'tis all I ask."

Eager he darts to meet the demon foe,
Who still across wide heaps of ruin slow
And falteringly comes, till they are near;
Then, with a bound, rushes on AZIM's spear,
And, casting off the Veil in falling, shows-
Oh! 'tis his ZELICA'S life-blood that flows!

"I meant not, AZIM," soothingly she said,
As on his trembling arm she lean'd her head,
And, looking in his face, saw anguish there
Beyond all wounds the quiv'ring flesh can bear---
"I meant not thou shouldst have the pain of this:-
Though death, with thee thus tasted, is a bliss
Thou wouldst not rob me of, didst thou but know,
How oft I've pray'd to God I might die so!
But the Fiend's venom was too scant and slow;-
To linger on were madd'ning—and I thought
If once that Veil-nay, look not on it-caught
The eyes of your fierce soldiery, I should be
Struck by a thousand death-darts instantly.
But this is sweeter-oh! believe me, yes-
I would not change this sad, but dear caress,
This death within thy arms I would not give
For the most smiling life the happiest live!
All, that stood dark and drear before the eye
Of my stray'd soul, is passing swiftly by;
A light comes o'er me from those looks of love,
Like the first dawn of mercy from above;
And if thy lips but tell me I'm forgiv'n,
Angels will echo the blest words in Heav'n!
But live, my AZIM;-oh! to call thee mine.
Thus once again! my AZIM-dream divine!
Live, if thou ever lov'dst me, if to meet
Thy ZELICA hereafter would be sweet,
Oh, live to pray for her-to bend the knee
Morning and night before that Deity,

To whom pure lips and hearts without a stain,
As thine are, AZIM, never breath'd in vain,-~

And pray that He may pardon her, may take
Compassion on her soul for thy dear sake,
And, nought rememb'ring but her love to thee,
Make her all thine, all His, eternally!

Go to those happy fields where first we twin'd

Our youthful hearts together-every wind

That meets thee there, fresh from the well-known flow'rs,

Will bring the sweetness of those innocent hours

Back to thy soul, and thou may'st feel again

For thy poor ZELICA as thou didst then.
So shall thy orisons, like dew that flies
To Heav'n upon the morning's sunshine, rise
With all love's earliest ardour to the skies!

And should they-but, alas, my senses fail—
Oh for one minute!-should thy prayers prevail—
If pardon'd souls may, from that World of Bliss,
Reveal their joy to those they love in this-
I'll come to thee-in some.sweet dream-and teil-
Oh Heav'n-I die-dear love! farewell, farewell."

Time fleeted-years on years had pass'd away,
And few of those who, on that mournful day,
Had stood, with pity in their eyes, to see
The maiden's death, and the youth's agony,
Were living still-when, by a rustic grave,
Beside the swift Amoo's transparent wave,
An aged man, who had grown aged there
By that lone grave, morning and night in prayer,
For the last time knelt down-and, though the shade
Of death hung dark'ning over him, there play'd
A gleam of rapture on his eye and cheek,
That brighten'd even Death-like the last streak
Of intense glory on th' horizon's brim,
When night o'er all the rest hangs chill and di
His soul had seen a Vision, while he slept;
She, for whose spirit he had pray'd and wept
So many years. had come to him, all drest

In angel smiles, and told him she was blest!

For this the old man breath'd his thanks, and died
And there, upon the banks of that lov'd tide,

He and his ZELICA sleep side by side.

19

THE story of the Veiled Prophet of Khorassan being ended, they were now dored to hear FADLADEEN's criticisms upon it. A series of disappointments and accidents had occurred to this learned Chamberlain during the journey. In the first place, those couriers stationed, as in the reign of Shah Jehan, betwen Delhi and the Western roast of India, to secure a constant supply of mangoes for the Royal Table, had, by soine cruel irregularity, failed in their duty; and to eat any mangoes but those of Mazagong was, of course, impossible. In the next place, the elephant laden with his fine antique porcelain, had, in an unusual fit of liveliness, shattered the whole set to pieces-an irreparable loss, as many of the vessels were so exquisitely old, as to have been used under the Emperors Yan and Chun, who reigned many ages before the dynasty of Tang. Ilis Koran, too, supposed to be the identical copy between the leaves of which Mahomet's favourite pigeon used to nestle, had been mislaid by his Koran-bearer three whole days; not without much spiritual alarm to FADLADEEN,

who, though pressing to hold with other loyal and orthodox Mussninans, tha saivacion could only be found in the Koran, was strongly suspected of believing in his heart, that it could only be found in his own particular copy of it. When to all these grievances is added the obstinacy of the cooks, in putting the pepper of Canara int ais dishes instead of the cinnamon of Serendib, we may easily suppose that he came to the task of criticism with, at least, a sufficient degree of irritability for the purpose. "In order," said he, importantly swinging about his chaplet of pearls, "to convey with clearness my opinion of the story this young man has related, it is necessary to take a review of all the stories that have ever -"-"My good FADLADEEN!" exclaimed the Princess, interrupting him, "we really do not deserve that you should give yourself so much trouble. Your opinion of the poem we have just heard, will, I have no doubt, be abundantly edifying, without any further waste of your valuable erudition.""If that be all," replied the critic,-evidently mortified at not being allowed to show how much he knew about everything but the subject immediately before him," if that be all that is required, the matter is easily despatched." He then proceeded to analyse the poem, in that strain (so well known to the unfortunate bards of Delhi) whose censures were an infliction from which few recovered, and whose very praises were like the honey extracted from the bitter flowers of the aloe. The chief personages of the story were, if he rightly understood them, an ill-favoured gentle.nan, with a veil over his face;-a young lady, whose reason went and came, according as it suited the poet's convenience to be sensible or otherwise;--and a youth in one of those hideous Bucharian bonnets, who took the aforesaid gentleman in a veil for a Divinity. "From such materials," said he, "what can be expected?-after rivalling each other in long speeches and absurdities, through some thousands of lines as indigestible as the filberts of Berdaa, our friend in the veil jumps into a tub of aquafortis; the young lady dies in a set speech, whose only recommendation is that it is her last; and the lover lives on to a good old age, for the laudable purpose of seeing her ghost, which he at last happily accomplishes, and expires. This, you will allow, is a fair summary of the story; and if Nasser, the Arabian merchant, told no better, our Holy Prophet (to whom be all honour and glory!) had no need to be jealous of his abilities for story-telling."

With respect to the style, it was worthy of the matter;-it had not even those politic contrivances of structure, which make up for the commonness of the thoughts by the peculiarity of the manner, nor that stately poetic phraseology by which sentiments mean in themselves, like the blacksmith's apron converted into a banner, are so easily gilt and embroidered into consequence. Then, as to the versification, it was, to say no worse of it, execrable: it had neither the copious flow of Ferdosi, the sweetness of Hafez, nor the sententious march of Sadi; but appeared to him, in the uneasy heaviness of its movements, to have been modelled upon the gait of a very tired dromedary. The licences, too, in which it indulged, were unpardonable;for instance this line, and the poem abounded with such;—

Like the faint, exquisite music of a dream.

"What critic that can count," said FADLADEEN, "and has his full complement of fingers to count withal, would tolerate for an instant such syllabic superfluities ?”—

He here looked round, and discovered that most of his audience were asleep; while the glimmering lamps seemed inclined to follow their example. It became necessary, therefore, however painful to himself, to put an end to his valuable animadversions for the present, and he accordingly concluded, with an air of dignified candour, thus:— "Notwithstanding the observations which I have thought it my duty to make, it is by no means my wish to discourage the young man :-so far from it, indeed, that if he will but totally alter his style of writing and thinking, I have very little doubt that I shall be vastly pleased with him."

Some days elapsed, after this harangae of the Great Chamberlain, before LALLA ROOKн could venture to ask for another story. The youth was still a welcome guest in the pavilion-to one heart, perhaps, too dangerously welcome;-but all mention of poetry was, as if by common consent, avoided. Though none of the party had much respect for FADLADEEN, yet his censures, thus magisterially delivered, evidently made an impression on them all. The Poet himself, to whom criticism was quite a new operation (being wholly unknown in that Paradise of the Indies, Cashmere), felt the shock as it is generally felt at first, till use has made it more tolerable to the patient; the Ladies began to suspect that they ought not to be pleased, and seemed to conclude that there must have been much good sense in what FADLADEEN said, from its having set them all so soundly to sleep;-while the self complacent Chamberlain was left to triumph in the idea of having, for the hundred and fiftieth time in his life, extinguished a Poet. LALLA ROOKH alone-and Love knew why-persisted in being delighted with all she had heard, and in resolving to hear more as speedily as possible. Her manner, however, of first returning to the subject was "lucky. It was while they rested during the heat of noon near a fountain, on which some hand ad rudely traced those well-known words from the Garden of Sadi,—" Many, like .ne, have viewed this fountain, but they are gone, and their eyes are closed for ever!" -that she took occasion, from the melancholy beauty of this passage, to dwell upon the charms of poetry in general. "It is true," she said, "few poets can imitate that sublime bird, which flies always in the air, and never touches the earth: 2-it is only once in many ages a Genius appears, whose words, like those on the Written Mountain, last for ever 22-but still there are some, as delightful, perhaps, though not so wonderful, who, if not stars over our head, are at least flowers along our path, and whose sweetness of the moment we ought gratefully to inhale, without calling upon them for brightness and a durability beyond their nature. In short," continued she, blushing, as if conscious of being caught in an oration, "it is quite cruel that a poet cannot wander through his regions of enchantment, without having a critic for ever, like the old Man of the Sea, upon his back!" FADLADEEN, it was plain, took this last luckless allusion to himself, and would treasure it up in his mind as a whetstone for his next criticism. A sudden silence ensued; and the Princess, glancing a look at FERAMORZ, saw plainly she must wait for a more courageous

moment.

But the glories of Nature, and her wild, fragrant airs, playing freshly over the current of youthful spirits, will soon heal even deeper wounds than the dull Fadladeens of this world can inflict. In an evening or two after, they came to the small Valley of Gardens, which had been planted by order of the Emperor, for his favourite sister Rochinara, during their progress to Cashmere, some years before; and never