Selected Poems
Page 24
Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle,
Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime?
5
Know ye the land of the cedar and vine,
Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine;
Where the light wings of Zephyr oppressed with perfume,
Wax faint o’er the gardens of Gúl1 in her bloom;
Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit,
10
And the voice of the nightingale never is mute:
Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky,
In colour 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,
15
And all, save the spirit of man, is divine?
‘Tis the clime of the East; ‘tis the land of the Sun –
Can he smile on such deeds as his children have done?1
Oh! wild as the accents of lovers’ farewell
Are the hearts which they bear, and the tales which they tell.
II
20
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,
Old Giaffir sate in his Divan:
25
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,
30
His pensive cheek and pondering brow
Did more than he was wont avow.
III
‘Let the chamber be clear’d.’ – The train disappear’d –
‘Now call me the chief of the Haram guard.’
With Giaffir is none but his only son,
35
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!)
40
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.’
45
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,
50
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,
55
Know – for the fault, if fault there be,
Was mine, then fall thy frowns on me –
So lovelily the morning shone,
That – let the old and weary sleep –
I could not; and to view alone
60
The fairest scenes of land and deep,
With none to listen and reply
To thoughts with which my heart beat high
Were irksome – for whate’er my mood,
In sooth I love not solitude;
65
I on Zuleika’s slumber broke,
And, as thou knowest that for me
Soon turns the Haram’s grating key,
Before the guardian slaves awoke
We to the cypress groves had flown,
70
And made earth, main, and heaven our own!
There linger’d we, beguiled too long
With Mejnoun’s tale, or Sadi’s song;1
Till I, who heard the deep tambour2
Beat thy Divan’s approaching hour,
75
To thee, and to my duty true,
Warn’d by the sound, to greet thee flew:
But there Zuleika wanders yet –
Nay, Father, rage not – nor forget
That none can pierce that secret bower
80
But those who watch the women’s tower.’
IV
‘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.
85
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.
90
Would that yon orb, whose matin glow
Thy listless eyes so much admire,
Would lend thee something of his fire!
Thou, who would’st see this battlement
By Christian cannon piecemeal rent;
95
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
100
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 see’st yon bow – it hath a string!’
V
105
No sound from Selim’s lip was heard,
At least that met old Giaffir’s ear,
But every frown and every word
Pierced keener than a Christian’s sword.
‘Son of a slave! – reproach’d with fear!
110
Those gibes had cost another dear.
Son of a slave! – and who my sire?’
Thus held his thoughts their dark career;
And glances ev’n of more than ire
Flash forth, then faintly disappear.
115
Old Giaffir gazed upon his son
And started; for within his eye
He read how much his wrath had done;
He saw rebellion there begun:
‘Come hither, boy – what, no reply?
120
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,
125
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,
130
Till Giaffir’s quail’d and shrunk askance –
And 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,
135
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 life –
140
I would not trust that look or tone:
No – nor the blood so near my own.
That blood – he hath not heard – no more –
I’ll watch him closer than before.
He is an Arab1 to my sight,
145
Or Christian cr
ouching in the fight –
But 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,
150
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;
155
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,
160
Whose image then was stamp’d upon her mind –
But 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,
165
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 that rude old Chief,
Who met the maid with tears – but not of grief.
170
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
175
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 Music1 breathing from her face,
180
The heart whose softness harmonized the whole –
And, oh! that eye was in itself a Soul!
Her graceful arms in meekness bending
Across her gently-budding breast;
At one kind word those arms extending
185
To clasp the neck of him who blest
His child caressing and carest
Zuleika came – and Giaffir felt
His purpose half within him melt:
Not that against her fancied weal
190
His heart though stern could ever feel;
Affection chain’d her to that heart;
Ambition tore the links apart.
VII
‘Zuleika! child of gentleness!
How dear this very day must tell,
195
When I forget my own distress,
In losing what I love so well,
To bid thee with another dwell:
Another! and a braver man
Was never seen in battle’s van.
200
We Moslem reck not much of blood;
But yet the line of Carasman1
Unchanged, unchangeable hath stood
First of the bold Timariot bands
That won and well can keep their lands.
205
Enough that he who comes to woo
Is kinsman of the Bey Oglou:
His years need scarce a thought employ;
I would not have thee wed a boy.
And thou shalt have a noble dower:
210
And his and my united power
Will laugh to scorn the death-firman,
Which others tremble but to scan,
And teach the messenger1 what fate
The bearer of such boon may wait.
215
And now thou know’st thy father’s will;
All that thy sex hath need to know:
‘Twas mine to teach obedience still –
The way to love, thy lord may show.’
VIII
In silence bow’d the virgin’s head;
220
And if her eye was fill’d with tears
That stifled feeling dare not shed,
And changed her cheek from pale to red,
And red to pale, as through her ears
Those winged words like arrows sped,
225
What could such be but maiden fears?
So bright the tear in Beauty’s eye,
Love half regrets to kiss it dry;
So sweet the blush of Bashfulness,
Even Pity scarce can wish it less!
230
What’er it was the sire forgot;
Or if remember’d, mark’d it not;
Thrice clapp’d his hands, and call’d his steed,1
Resign’d his gem-adorn’d chibouque,2
And mounting featly for the mead,
235
With Maugrabee3 and Mamaluke,
His way amid his Delis took,4
To witness many an active deed
With sabre keen, or blunt jerreed.
The Kislar only and his Moors
240
Watch well the Haram’s massy doors.
IX
His head was leant upon his hand,
His eye look’d o’er the dark blue water
That swiftly glides and gently swells
Between the winding Dardanelles;
245
But yet he saw nor sea nor strand,
Nor even his Pacha’s turban’d band
Mix in the game of mimic slaughter,
Careering cleave the folded felt5
With sabre stroke right sharply dealt;
250
Nor mark’d the javelin-darting crowd,
Nor heard their Ollahs6 wild and loud –
He thought but of old Giaffir’s daughter!
X
No word from Selim’s bosom broke;
One sigh Zuleika’s thought bespoke:
255
Still gazed he through the lattice grate,
Pale, mute, and mournfully sedate.
To him Zuleika’s eye was turn’d,
But little from his aspect learn’d:
Equal her grief, yet not the same;
260
Her heart confess’d a gentler flame:
But yet that heart alarm’d or weak,
She knew not why, forbade to speak.
Yet speak she must – but when essay?
‘How strange he thus should turn away!
265
Not thus we e’er before have met;
Not thus shall be our parting yet.’
Thrice pac’d she slowly through the room,
And watch’d his eye – it still was fix’d:
She snatch’d the urn whercin was mix’d
270
The Persian Atar-gul’s1 perfume,
And sprinkled all its odours o’er
The pictured roof2 and marble floor:
The drops, that through his glittering vest
The playful girl’s appeal address’d,
275
Unheeded o’er his bosom flew,
As if that breast were marble too.
‘What, sullen yet? it must not be –
Oh! gentle Selim, this from thee!’
She saw in curious order set
280
The fairest flowers of eastern land –
‘He lov’d 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;
285
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 Bulbul1 bears;
It says to-night he will
prolong
290
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
295
‘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!
300
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.
305
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 –
310
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,
315
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,
320
Where were thy friend – and who my guide?
Years have not seen, Time shall not see
The hour that tears my soul from thee:
Ev’n Azrael1 from his deadly quiver
When flies that shaft, and fly it must,
325
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
330
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
335
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.
340
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
345
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,