KNOW ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime? Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle,

Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime! Know ye the land of the cedar and vine,

Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine:

Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppress'd with perfume,

Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gúl* in her bloom;
Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit,
And the voice of the nightingale never is mute:
Where the tints of the earth and the hues of the
sky,

In color though varied, in beauty may vie,
And the purple of ocean is deepest in dye;
Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine,
And all, save the spirit of man, is divine?

'Tis the clime of the East; 't is the land of the Sun

Can he smile on such deeds as his children have done? †

Oh! wild as the accents of lovers' farewell Are the hearts which they bear, and the tales which they tell.

II.

Begirt with many a gallant slave,
Apparell'd as becomes the brave,
Awaiting each his lord's behest

To guide his steps, or guard his rest,

*"Gul," the rose.

Byron

Old Giaffir sate in his Divan:

Deep thought was in his aged eye; And though the face of Mussulman Not oft betrays to standers by The mind within well skill'd to hide All but unconquerable pride,

His pensive cheek and pondering brow

Did more than he was wont avow.

III.

"Let the chamber be clear'd."-The train dis appear'd

"Now call me the chief of the Haram guard.” With Giaffir is none but his only son, And the Nubian awaiting the sire's award. "Haroun-when all the crowd that wait Are pass'd beyond the outer gate (Woe to the head whose eye beheld My child Zuleika's face unveil'd!), Hence, lead my daughter from her tower; Her fate is fix'd this very hour: Yet not to her repeat my thought By me alone be duty taught!"

"Pacha! to hear is to obey."

No more must slave to despot say-
Then to the tower had ta'en his way,
But here young Selim silence brake,

First lowly rendering reverence meet;
And downcast look'd, and gently spake,
Still standing at the Pacha's feet:
For son of Moslem must expire,
Ere dare to sit before his sire!

"Father! for fear that thou shouldst chide
My sister, or her sable guide,

Know-for the fault, if fault there be,
Was mine, then fall thy frowns on me-

"Souls made of fire, and children of the Sun, With whom revenge is virtue."-YOUNG's Revenge.

"Son of a slave "-the Pacha said-
"From unbelieving mother bred,
Vain were a father's hope to see
Aught that beseems a man in thee.

Thou, when thine arm should bend the bow,
And hurl the dart, and curb the steed,
Thou, Greek in soul if not in creed,
Must pore where babbling waters flow,
And watch unfolding roses blow.
Would that yon orb, whose matin glow
Thy listless eyes so much admire,
Would lend thee something of his fire!
Thou, who wouldst see this battlement
By Christian cannon piecemeal rent;
Nay, tamely view old Stambol's wall'
Before the dogs of Moscow fall,

Nor strike one stroke for life and death
Against the curs of Nazareth!
Go-let thy less than woman's hand
Assume the distaff-not the brand.
But, Haroun !-to my daughter speed:
And hark-of thine own head take heed-
If thus Zuleika oft takes wing--
Thou seest yon bow-it hath a string!"

He read how much his wrath had done;
He saw rebellion there begun :

"Come hither, boy-what, no reply?
I mark thee-and I know thee too;
But there be deeds thou dar'st not do.
But if thy beard had manlier length,
And if thy hand had skill and strength,
I'd joy to see thee break a lance,
Albeit against my own, perchance."
As sneeringly these accents fell,
On Selim's eye he fiercely gazed:

That eye return'd him glance for glance, And proudly to his sire's was raised,

Till Giaffir's quail'd and shrunk askanceAnd why-he felt, but durst not tell. "Much I misdoubt this wayward boy Will one day work me more annoy: I never loved him from his birth, And-but his arm is little worth, And scarcely in the chase could cope With timid fawn or antelope, Far less would venture into strife Where man contends for fame and lifeI would not trust that look or tone: No-nor the blood so near my own. That blood-he hath not heard-no moreI'll watch him closer than before. He is an Arab ‡ to my sight, Or Christian crouching in the fightBut hark!-I hear Zuleika's voice;

Like Houris' hymn it meets mine ear:
She is the offspring of my choice;

Oh! more than ev'n her mother dear,
With all to hope, and nought to fear-
My Peri! ever welcome here!
Sweet, as the desert fountain's wave
To lips just cool'd in time to save-

Such to my longing sight art thou;
Nor can they waft to Mecca's shrine
More thanks for life, than I for thine,
Who blest thy birth, and bless thee now."

VI.

Fair as the first that fell of womankind,

When on that dread yet lovely serpent smiling, Whose image then was stamped upon her mindBut once beguiled-and ever more beguiling; Dazzling, as that, oh! too transcendent vision

To Sorrow's phantom-peopled slumber given, When heart meets heart again in dreams Elysian,

And paints the lost on Earth revived in Heaven;
Soft as the memory of buried love;
Pure, as the prayer which Childhood wafts above,
Was she-the daughter of the rude old Chief,
Who met the maid with tears-but not of grief.

Who hath not proved how feebly words essay?
To fix one spark of Beauty's heavenly ray?
Who doth not feel, until his failing sight
Faints into dimness with its own delight,
His changing cheek, his sinking heart confess
The might-the majesty of Loveliness?
Such was Zuleika-such around her shone
The nameless charms unmark'd by her alone-
The light of love, the purity of grace,
The mind, the Music || breathing from her face,

woman whom he believes to be the most beautiful; and, if

The Turks abhor the Arabs (who return the compliment a hundred-fold) even more than they hate the Christians. 8 These twelve fine lines were added in the course of printing.

This expression has met with objections. I will not refer to "Him who hath not Music in his soul," but merely request

in the above line, I shall be sorry for us both. For an ele quent passage in the latest work of the first female writer of this, perhaps of any age, on the analogy (and the immediate comparison excited by that analogy) between "painting and music," see vol. iii., cap. 10, DE L'ALLEMAGNE. And is not this connection still stronger with the original than the copy? with the coloring of Nature than of Art? After all, this is

As if that breast were marble too.

66

What, sullen yet? it must not beOh! gentle Selim, this from thee!" She saw in curious order set

The fairest flowers of eastern land

"He loved them once; may touch them yet, If offer'd by Zuleika's hand."

The childish thought was hardly breathed
Before the rose was pluck'd and wreathed;
The next fond moment saw her seat
Her fairy form at Selim's feet:
"This rose to calm my brother's cares
A message from the Bulbul bears:

It says to-night he will prolong
For Selim's ear his sweetest song;
And though his note is somewhat sad,
He'll try for once a strain more glad,
With some faint hope his alter'd lay
May sing these gloomy thoughts away.

XI.

"What! not receive my foolish flower?
Nay, then I am indeed unblest;
On me can thus thy forehead lower?

And know'st thou not who loves thee best?
Oh, Selim dear! oh, more than dearest!
Say, is it me thou hat'st or fearest ?
Come, lay thy head upon my breast,
And I will kiss thee into rest,

Since words of mine, and songs must fail,
Ev'n from my fabled nightingale.

I knew our sire at times was stern,
But this from thee had yet to learn:
Too well I know he loves thee not;
But is Zuleika's love forgot?

Ah! deem I right? the Pacha's plan-
This kinsman Bey of Carasman
Perhaps may prove some foe of thine.
If so, I swear by Mecca's shrine,-
If shrines that ne'er approach allow
To woman's step admit her vow,-
Without thy free consent, command,
The Sultan should not have my hand!
Think'st thou that I could bear to part
With thee, and learn to halve my heart?
Ah! were I sever'd from thy side,

Where were thy friend-and who my guide?
Years have not seen, Time shall not see
The hour that tears my soul from thee:
Even Azrael,† from his deadly quiver

When flies that shaft, and fly it must, That parts all else, shall doom for ever Our hearts to undivided dust!"

XII.

He lived-he breathed-he moved-he felt; He raised the maid from where she knelt; His trance was gone-his keen eye shone With thoughts that long in darkness dwelt; With thoughts that burn-in rays that melt. As the stream late conceal'd

By the fringe of its willows, When it rushes reveal'd

In the light of its billows; As the bolt bursts on high

From the black cloud that bound it, Flash'd the soul of that eye

Through the long lashes round it.

It has been much doubted whether the notes of this "Lover of the rose" are sad or merry; and Mr. Fox' remarks on the subject have provoked some learned controversy as to the opinions of the ancients on the subject. I dare not venture a conjecture on the point, though a little inclined to the " errare mallem," &c., if Mr. Fox was mistaken. "Azrael," the angel of death.

A war-horse at the trumpet's sound,
A lion roused by heedless hound,
A tyrant waked to sudden strife
By graze of ill-directed knife,
Starts not to more convulsive life
Than he, who heard that vow, display'd,
And all, before repress'd, betray'd:
"Now thou art mine, for ever mine,
With life to keep, and scarce with life resign.
Now thou art mine,-that sacred oath,
Though sworn by one, hath bound us both.
Yes, fondly, wisely hast thou done;

That vow hath saved more heads than one;
But blench not thou-thy simplest tress
Claims more from me than tenderness;
I would not wrong the slenderest hair
That clusters round thy forehead fair,
For all the treasures buried far
Within the caves of Istakar.‡
This morning clouds upon me lower'd,
Reproaches on my head were shower'd,
And Giaffir almost call'd me coward!
Now I have motive to be brave;
The son of his neglected slave,
Nay, start not, 't was the term he gave,
May show, though little apt to vaunt,
A heart his words nor deeds can daunt.
His son, indeed!-yet, thanks to thee,
Perchance I am, at least shall be;
But let our plighted secret vow
Be only known to us as now.

I know the wretch who dares demand
From Giaffir thy reluctant hand;
More ill-got wealth, a meaner soul
Holds not a Musselim's control:
Was he not bred in Egripo? ||

A viler race let Israel show;
But let that pass-to none be told
Our oath; the rest shall time unfold.
To me and mine leave Osman Bey;
I've partisans for peril's day:
Think not I am what I appear;

I've arms, and friends, and vengeance near."

XIII.

"Think not thou art what thou appearest !
My Selim, thou art sadly changed:
This morn I saw thee gentlest, dearest;
But now thou 'rt from thyself estranged.
My love thou surely knew'st before,
It ne'er was less, nor can be more.
To see thee, hear thee, near thee stay,
And hate the night I know not why,
Save that we meet not but by day;
With thee to live, with thee to die,
I dare not to my hope deny:
Thy cheek, thine eyes, thy lips to kiss,
Like this-and this-no more than this;
For, Allah! sure thy lips are flame:

What fever in thy veins is flushing?
My own have nearly caught the same,

At least I feel my cheek, too, blushing. To soothe thy sickness, watch thy health, Partake, but never waste thy wealth, Or stand with smiles unmurmuring by, And lighten half thy poverty: Do all but close thy dying eye, For that I could not live to try;

The treasures of the Pre-Adamite Sultans. See D'Herbelot, article Istakar.

§ "Musselim," a governor, the next in rank after a Pacha; a Waywode is the third; and then comes the Agas.

"Egripo," the Negropont. According to the proverb, the Turks of Egripo, the Jews of Salonica, and the Greeks of Athens, are the worst of their respective races.

To these alone my thoughts aspire:
More can I do? or thou require?
But, Selim, thou must answer why
We need so much of mystery?
The cause I cannot dream nor tell,
But be it, since thou say'st 't is well;

Yet what thou mean'st by arms' and 'friends,'
Beyond my weaker sense extends.

I meant that Giaffir should have heard
The very vow I plighted thee;

His wrath would not revoke my word:
But surely he would leave me free.

Can this fond wish seem strange in me,

To be what I have ever been?
What other hath Zuleika seen
From simple childhood's earliest hour?
What other can she seek to see
Than thee, companion of her bower,
The partner of her infancy?

These cherish'd thoughts, with life begun,
Say, why must I no more avow?

What change is wrought to make me shun
The truth; my pride, and thine till now?
To meet the gaze of stranger's eyes
Our law, our creed, our God denies;
Nor shall one wandering thought of mine
At such, our Prophet's will, repine:
No! happier made by that decree,
He left me all in leaving thee.
Deep were my anguish, thus compell'd
To wed with one I ne'er beheld:
This wherefore should I not reveal?
Why wilt thou urge me to conceal?
I know the Pacha's haughty mood
To thee hath never boded good;
And he so often storms at nought,
Allah! forbid that e'er he ought!
And why I know not, but within
My heart concealment weighs like sin.
If then such secrecy be crime,

And such it feels while lurking here;
Oh, Selim! tell me yet in time,

Nor leave me thus to thoughts of fear.
Ah! yonder see the Tchocadar,*
My father leaves the mimic war;
I tremble now to meet his eye-
Say, Selim, canst thou tell me why?"

XIV.

Zuleika-to thy tower's retreat
Betake thee-Giaffir I can greet:
And now with him I fain must prate
Of firmans, imposts, levies, state.

There's fearful news from Danube's banks,
Our Vizier nobly thins his ranks,

For which the Giaour may give him thanks!
Our Sultan hath a shorter way
Such costly triumph to repay.

But, mark me, when the twilight drum
Hath warn'd the troops to food and sleep,
Unto thy cell will Selim come:

Then softly from the Haram creep
Where we may wander by the deep:
Our garden-battlements are steep;
Nor these will rash intruder climb
To list our words, or stint our time;
And if he doth, I want not steel

Which some have felt, and more may feel.

*"Tchocadar," one of the attendants who precedes a man of authority.

* The wrangling about this epithet, “the broad Hellespont" or the "boundless Hellespont," whether it means one or the other, or what it means at all, has been beyond all possibility of detail. I have even heard it disputed on the spot; and not foreseeing a speedy conclusion to the controversy, amused

Then shalt thou learn of Selim more
Than thou hast heard or thought before:
Trust me, Zuleika-fear not me!
Thou know'st I hold a Haram key."

"Fear thee, my Selim! ne'er till now
Did word like this-"
"Delay not thou;
I keep the key-and Haroun's guard
Have some, and hope of more reward.
To-night, Zuleika, thou shalt hear
My tale, my purpose, and my fear:
I am not, love! what I appear."

CANTO THE SECOND.

I.

THE winds are high on Helle's wave, As on that night of stormy water When Love, who sent, forgot to save The young, the beautiful, the brave,

The lonely hope of Sestos' daughter. Oh! when alone along the sky Her turret-torch was blazing high, Though rising gale, and breaking foam, And shrieking sea-birds warn'd him home; And clouds aloft and tides below, With signs and sounds, forbade to go, He could not see, he would not hear, Or sound or sign foreboding fear; His eye but saw that light of love, The only star it hail'd above; His ear but rang with Hero's song, "Ye waves, divide not lovers long!" That tale is old, but love anew

May nerve young hearts to prove as true.

II.

The winds are high, and Helle's tide
Rolls darkly heaving to the main;
And Night's descending shadows hide
That field with blood bedew'd in vain,
The desert of old Priam's pride;

The tombs, sole relics of his reign,
All-save immortal dreams that could beguile
The blind old man of Scio's rocky isle!

III.

Oh! yet-for there my steps have been;

These feet have press'd the sacred shore, These limbs that buoyant wave hath borneMinstrel! with thee to muse, to mourn,

To trace again those fields of yore,
Believing every hillock green

Contains no fabled hero's ashes,
And that around the undoubted scene

Thine own 66 broad Hellespont "+ still dashes,
Be long my lot! and cold were he
Who there could gaze denying thee!

myself with swimming across it in the mean time; and probably may again, before the point is settled. Indeed, the question as to the truth of "the tale of Troy divine" still continues much of it resting upon the talismanic word ameipos: probably Homer had the same notion of distance that a coquette has of time; and when he talks of boundless, means half a mile; as the latter, by a like figure, when she says eternal attachment, simply specifies three weeks.