XX. This said, he turn'd away, and left The Youth in wonder mute; For Thalaba stood mute, The mingled joy which flow'd on every sense. Fair structures, rainbow-hued, arose; And fluted cypresses rear'd up And broad-leav'd plane-trees in long colonnades 7 Where round their trunks the thousand-tendril'd vine Wearied with endless beauty, did his eyes And here amid her sable cup 9 Shines the red eye-spot, like one brightest star, And here the rose expands And oh! what odours the voluptuous vale From cluster'd henna, and from orange groves, As Peris to their Sister bear, When from the summit of some lofty tree She hangs encaged, the captive of the Dives. They from their pinions shake The sweetness of celestial flowers, And, as her enemies impure From that impervious poison far away Fly groaning with the torment, she the while Inhales her fragrant food. 12 Such odours flow'd upon the world, When at Mahommed's nuptials, word Went forth in Heaven, to roll The everlasting gates of Paradise Back on their living hinges, that its gales Might visit all below; the general bliss Thrill'd every bosom, and the family Of man, for once, partook one common joy. 13 XXIII. Full of the joy, yet still awake Invite the passing youth. Wearied at length with hunger and with heat, Where round a fountain brink, The very light came cool'd through silvering panes The guests sate quaffing the delicious juice XXIV. But Thalaba took not the draught; For rightly he knew had the Prophet forbidden Yet not uncourteous, Thalaba All watery particles exhal'd, alone The strong essential sweetness ripens there. Here cased in ice, the apricot, 1 A topaz, crystal-set : Here, on a plate of snow, The sunny orange rests; And still the aloes and the sandal-wood, From golden censors, o'er the banquet room Diffuse their dying sweets. XXV. Which writhed, in each immodest gesture skill'd. XXVI. With earnest eyes the banqueters Fed on the sight impure; But in his heart he bore a talisman, To virtuous thoughts refined He rose, and from the banquet room he rush'd, XXVII. From tents of revelry, From festal bowers, to solitude he ran; A straight and stately bridge And plunged amid the forest solitude. XXVIII. Deserts of Araby! His soul return'd to you. He cast himself upon the earth, Arous'd him; loud it came and near! The unerring arrow did its work of death. He turn'd him to the woman, and beheld. His own Oneiza, his Arabian Maid. BOOK VII. Now all is done; bring home the Bride again. Bring home the triumph of our victory! Bring home with you the glory of her gain, With joyance bring her, and with jollity. Never had man more joyful day than this, Whom Heaven would heap with bliss. SPENSER'S Epithalamium. I. FROM fear, and from amazement, and from joy, At length the Arabian Maid recovering speech, Threw around Thalaba her arms, and cried, « My father! O my father!»... Thalaba In wonder lost, yet fearful to inquire, Bent down his cheek on hers, And their tears met, and mingled as they fell. II. ONEIZA. At night they seiz'd me, Thalaba! in my sleep,... Thou wert not near,.. and yet when in their Grasp I woke, my shriek of terror called on thee. My father could not save me,-an old man! And they were strong and many,-O my God, The hearts they must have had to hear his prayers, And yet to leave him childless! THALABA. We will seek him: We will return to Araby. ONEIZA. Alas! We should not find him, Thalaba! our tent His dreams are of my wretchedness, my wrongs,- And gently drew him forward, and they went Towards the mountain chain. III. It was broad moonlight, and obscure or lost But the great boundary rose, distinctly marked. No sloping uplands lifting to the sun Their vineyards, with fresh verdure, and the shade Of ancient woods, courting the loiterer To win the easy ascent: stone mountains these, Desolate rock on rock, The burthens of the earth Whose snowy summits met the morning beam When night was in the vale, whose feet were fix'd In the world's foundations. Thalaba survey'd The heights precipitous, Impending crags, rocks unascendible, And hung upon his arm a feebler weight. Silent and calm the river rolled along, Of that fair garden, o'er a rocky bed Still full and silent, held its even way. But farther as they went its deepening sound Louder and louder in the distance rose, As if it forced its stream Struggling with crags along a narrow pass. And lo! where raving o'er a hollow course The ever-flowing tide Foams in a thousand whirlpools! there adown Plunge the whole waters; so precipitous, That their earth-shaking roar came deadened up Varying their verdure to the gale, The quiver arrow-stor`d. Me other weapon suits ;» said he, Oh! yet again, Oneiza, we shall share With double grasp, hand below hand, he clench'd, Then off he shook the clotted earth, And broke away the head And lifting it aloft, With that the youth and Arab Maid And with the assembled throng Oneiza mingled, and the Appointed Youth. Unmark'd they mingled, or if one With busier finger to his neighbour notes The quiver'd Maid, « haply,» he says, «Some daughter of the Homerites, 4 Or one who yet remembers with delight Her native tents of Himiar!» Nay!» rejoins His comrade, « a love-pageant! for the man Mimies with that fierce eye and knotty club Some savage lion-tamer, she forsooth Must play the heroine of the years of old !» XIV. Radiant with gems upon his throne of gold Large as the hairy Cassowar So huge his talons, in their grasp The Eagle would have hung a helpless prey. llis beak was iron, and his plumes Glittered like burnish'd gold, And his eyes glow'd, as though an inward fire Shone through a diamond orb. XV. The blinded multitude Ador'd the Sorcerer, « Children of Earth,» he cried, « Whom I have guided here By easier passage than the gate of Death; With tales of a hereafter heaven Who is there here that by a deed The eternal joys of actual paradise? » XX. Amid the vale below Tents rose, and streamers play'd, And javelins sparkled in the sun, And multitudes encamp'd, Swarm'd, far as eye could follow, o'er the plain. There in his war-pavilion sate In council with his Chiefs The Sultan of the Land. Before his presence there a Captain led XXI. « Obedient to our Lord's command,» said he, « We past toward the mountains, and began The ascending strait; when suddenly Earth shook, And darkness, like the midnight, fell around, And fire and thunder came from Heaven As though the Retribution day were come. After the terror ceas'd, and when with hearts Somewhat assur'd, again we ventur'd on, This youth and woman met us on the way. They told us, that from Aloadin's haunt They came, on whom the judgment-stroke hath fallen, He and his sinful Paradise at once Destroy'd by them, the agents they of Heaven. Therefore I brought them hither to repeat The tale before thy presence; that as search Shall prove it false or faithful, to their merit Thou mayest reward them.»> « Be it done to us,» Thalaba answer'd, « as the truth shall prove!»> XXII. The Sultan while he spake Fix'd on him the proud eye of sovereignty; Hark! while he speaks, the cry, The wrath of God hath smitten him.» XXIV. Then in the purple robe They vested Thalaba, And hung around his neck the golden chain, XXV. When from the pomp of triumpli And presence of the King His cheek inflam'd with pride. «The King hath done according to his word, Next to himself be nam'd!— But why that serious melancholy smile?— Oneiza, when I heard the voice that gave me Honour, and wealth, and fame, the instant thought Arose to fill my joy, that thou wouldst hear The tidings, and be happy.» ONEIZA. Thalaba, Thou wouldst not have me mirthful! am I not An orphan,- among strangers? THALABA. But with me! ONEIZA. My Father, THALABA. Nay, be comforted! last night To what wert thou expos'd! in what a peril The morning found us!--safety, honour, wealth, These now are ours. This instant who thou wert The Sultan ask'd. I told him from our childhood We had been plighted;-was I wrong, Oneiza? And when he said with bounties he would heap Our nuptials,-wilt thou blame me if I blest His will, that bade me fix the marriage day?-In tears, my love? ONEIZA. REMEMBER, DESTINY HATH MARK'D THEE FROM MANKIND! THALABA. Perhaps when Aloadin was destroy'd The mission ceas'd; else would wise Providence With its rewards and blessings strew my path Thus for accomplish'd service? ONEIZA. Thalaba! THALAGA. Or if haply not, yet whither should I go? Is it not prudent to abide in peace Till I am summon'd? ONEIZA. Take me to the Deserts! |