  THE ELEVENTH BOOK.O fool to think thy human hand Could check the chariot-wheels of Destiny To dream of weakness in the all-knowing Mind That his decrees should change! To hope that the united Powers Of Earth, and Air, and Hell, Might blot one letter from the Book of Fate, Might break one link of the eternal chain! Thou miserable, wicked, poor old man, Fall now upon the body of thy child, Beat now thy breast, and pluck the bleeding hairs From thy grey beard, and lay Thine ineffectual hand to close her wound. And call on Hell to aid, And call on Heaven to send Its merciful thunderbolt! The young Arabian silently Beheld his frantic grief. The presence of the hated youth To raging anguish stung The wretched Sorcerer. “Aye! look and triumph!” he exclaimed, “This is the justice of thy God! “A righteous God is he, to let “His vengeance fall upon the innocent head! “Curse thee, curse thee, Thalaba!” All feelings of revenge Had left Hodeirah’s son. Pitying and silently he heard The victim of his own iniquities, Not with the busy hand Of Consolation, fretting the sore wound He could not hope to heal. So as the Servant of the Prophet stood, With sudden motion the night air Gently fanned his cheek. ’Twas a Green Bird whose wings Had waved the quiet air. On the hand of Thalaba The Green Bird perched, and turned A mild eye up, as if to win The Adventurer’s confidence. Then springing on flew forward, And now again returns To court him to the way; And now his hand perceives Her rosy feet press firmer, as she leaps Upon the wing again. Obedient to the call, By the pale moonlight Thalaba pursued O’er trackless snows his way; Unknowing he what blessed messenger Had come to guide his steps, That Laila’s Spirit went before his path. Brought up in darkness and the child of sin, Yet as the meed of spotless innocence, Just Heaven permitted her by one good deed To work her own redemption, after death; So till the judgement day She might abide in bliss, Green The morning sun came forth, Wakening no eye to life In this wide solitude; His radiance with a saffron hue, like heat, Suffused the desert snow. The Green Bird guided Thalaba, Now oaring with slow wing her upward way, Descending now in slant descent On out-spread pinions motionless, Floating now with rise and fall alternate, As if the billows of the air Heaved her with their sink and swell. And when, beneath the noon, The icey glitter of the snow Dazzled his aching sight, Then on his arm alighted the Green Bird And spread before his eyes Her plumage of refreshing hue. Evening came on; the glowing clouds Tinged with a purple ray the mountain ridge That lay before the Traveller. Ah! whither art thou gone, Guide and companion of the youth, whose eye Has lost thee in the depth of Heaven? Why hast thou left alone The weary wanderer in the wilderness? And now the western clouds grow pale And Night descends upon his solitude. The Arabian youth knelt down, And bowed his forehead to the ground And made his evening prayer. When he arose the stars were bright in heaven, The sky was blue, and the cold Moon Shone over the cold snow. A speck in the air! Is it his guide that approaches? For it moves with the motion of life! Lo! she returns and scatters from her pinions Odours diviner than the gales of morning Waft from Sabea. Hovering before the youth she hung, Till from her rosy feet that at his touch Uncurled their grasp, he took The fruitful bough they bore. He took and tasted, a new life Flowed thro’ his renovated frame; His limbs that late were sore and stiff Felt all the freshness of repose, His dizzy brain was calmed. The heavy aching of his lids At once was taken off, For Laila from the Bowers of Paradise Had borne the healing So up the mountain steep With untired foot he past, The Green Bird guiding him Mid crags, and ice, and rocks, A difficult way, winding the long ascent. How then the heart of Thalaba rejoiced When bosomed in the mountain depths, A sheltered Valley opened on his view! It was the Simorg’s vale, The dwelling of the ancient Bird. On a green and mossy bank. Beside a rivulet The Bird of Ages stood. No sound intruded on his solitude, Only the rivulet was heard Whose everlasting flow From the birth-day of the world had made The same unvaried murmuring. Here dwelt the all-knowing Bird In deep tranquillity, His eyelids ever closed In full enjoyment of profound repose. Reverently the youth approached That old and only And crossed his arms upon his breast, And bowed his head and spake. “Earliest of existing things, “Earliest thou, and wisest thou, “Guide me, guide me, on my way! “I am bound to seek the caverns “Underneath the roots of Ocean “Where the Sorcerer brood are nurst. “Thou the eldest, thou the wisest, “Guide me, guide me, on my way!” The ancient Simorg on the youth Unclosed his thoughtful eyes, And answered to his prayer. “Northward by the stream proceed, “In the fountain of the rock “Wash away thy worldly stains, “Kneel thou there, and seek the Lord “And fortify thy soul with prayer. “Thus prepared ascend the Sledge, “Be bold, be wary, seek and find! “God hath appointed all.” The ancient Simorg then let fall his lids Returning to repose. Northward along the rivulet The adventurer went his way, Tracing its waters upward to their source. Green Bird of Paradise Thou hast not left the youth;... With slow associate flight She companies his way, And now they reach the fountain of the rock. There in the cold clear well Thalaba washed away his earthly stains, And bowed his face before the Lord, And fortified his soul with prayer. The while upon the rock Stood the celestial Bird, And pondering all the perils he must pass, With a mild melancholy eye Beheld the youth beloved. And lo! beneath yon lonely pine, the sledge.... And there they stand the harnessed Dogs, Their wide eyes watching for the youth, Their ears erected turned towards his way. They were lean as lean might be, Their furrowed ribs rose prominent, And they were black from head to foot, Save a white line on every breast Curved like the crescent moon. And he is seated in the sledge, His arms are folded on his breast, The bird is on his knees; There is fear in the eyes of the Dogs, There is fear in their pitiful moan, And now they turn their heads, And seeing him there, Away! The Youth with the start of their speed Falls back to the bar of the sledge, His hair floats straight in the stream of the wind Like the weeds in the running brook. They wind with speed the upward way, An icey path thro’ rocks of ice, His eye is at the summit now, And thus far all is dangerless, And now upon the height The black Dogs pause and pant, They turn their eyes to Thalaba As if to plead for pity, They moan and moan with fear. Once more away! and now The long descent is seen, A long, long, narrow path. Ice-rocks aright and hills of snow, Aleft the giddy precipice. Be firm, be firm, O Thalaba! One motion now, one bend, And on the crags below Thy shattered flesh will harden in the frost. Why howl the Dogs so mournfully? And wherefore does the blood flow fast All purple o’er their sable hair? His arms are folded on his breast, Nor scourge nor goad has he, No hand appears to strike, No sounding lash is heard: But piteously they moan and moan And track their way with blood. And lo! on yonder height A giant Fiend aloft Waits to thrust down the tottering Avalanche! If Thalaba looks back he dies, The motion of fear is death. On ... on ... with swift and steady pace Adown that dreadful way! The youth is firm, the Dogs are fleet, The Sledge goes rapidly, The thunder of the avalanche Re-echoes far behind. On ... on ... with swift and steady pace Adown that dreadful way! The Dogs are fleet, the way is steep The Sledge goes rapidly, They reach the plain below. A wide, wide plain, all desolate, Nor tree, nor bush, nor herb! On go the Dogs with rapid step, The Sledge slides after rapidly, And now the Sun went down. They stopt and looked at Thalaba, The Youth performed his prayer; They knelt beside him as he prayed They turned their heads to Mecca And tears ran down their cheeks. Then down they laid them in the snow As close as they could lie, They laid them down and slept. And backward in the sledge The Adventurer laid him down, There peacefully slept Thalaba, And the Green Bird of Paradise Lay in his bosom warm. The Dogs awoke him at the dawn, They knelt and wept again; Then rapidly they journeyed on, And still the plain was desolate, Nor tree, nor bush, nor herb! And ever at the hour of prayer They stopt, and knelt, and wept; And still that green and graceful Bird Was as a friend to him by day, And ever when at night he slept Lay in his bosom warm. In that most utter solitude It cheered his heart to hear Her soft and soothing voice; Her voice was soft and sweet, It swelled not with the blackbird’s thrill, Nor warbled rich like the dear bird, that holds The solitary man A loiterer in his thoughtful walk at eve; But if no overflowing joy Spake in its tones of tenderness They soothed the softened soul. Her bill was not the beak of blood; There was a human meaning in her eye, Its mild affection fixed on Thalaba Woke wonder while he gazed And made her dearer for the mystery. Oh joy! the signs of life appear, The first and single Fir That on the limits of the living world Strikes in the ice its roots. Another, and another now; And now the Larch that flings its arms Down arching like the falling wave; And now the Aspin’s scattered leaves Grey glitter on the moveless twig; The Poplar’s varying verdure now, And now the Birch so beautiful, Light as a Lady’s plumes. Oh joy! the signs of life! the Deer Hath left his slot beside the way; The little Ermine now is seen White wanderer of the snow; And now from yonder pines they hear The clatter of the Grouse’s wings: And now the snowy Owl pursues The Traveller’s sledge in hope of food; And hark! the rosy-breasted bird The Throstle of sweet song! Joy! joy! the winter-wilds are left! Green bushes now and greener grass, Red thickets here all berry-bright, And here the lovely flowers! When the last morning of their way arrived, After the early prayer, The Green Bird fixed on Thalaba A sad and supplicating eye, And with a human voice she spake, “Servant of God, I leave thee now. “If rightly I have guided thee, “Give me the boon I beg!” “O gentle Bird,” quoth Thalaba, “Guide and companion of my dangerous way, “Friend and sole solace of my solitude, “How can I pay thee benefits like these! “Ask what thou wilt that I can give, “O gentle Bird, the poor return “Will leave me debtor still!” “Son of Hodeirah!” she replied, “When thou shalt see an Old Man crushed beneath “The burthen of his earthly punishment, “Forgive him, Thalaba! “Yea, send a prayer to God on his behalf!” A flush o’erspread the young Destroyer’s cheek, He turned his eye towards the Bird As if in half repentance; for he thought Of Okba; and his Father’s dying groan Came on his memory. The celestial Bird Saw and renewed her speech. “O Thalaba, if she who in thine arms “Received the dagger-blow and died for thee, “Deserve one kind remembrance ... save, O save “The Father that she loved from endless death!” “Laila! and is it thou?” the youth replied: “What is there that I durst refuse to thee? “This is no time to harbour in my heart “One evil thought ... here I put off revenge, “The last rebellious feeling ... be it so! “God grant to me the pardon that I need “As I do pardon him! “But who am I that I should save “The sinful soul alive?” “Enough!” said Laila. “When the hour shall come “Remember me! my task is done. “We meet again in Paradise!” She said and shook her wings, and up she soared With arrow-swiftness thro’ the heights of Heaven. His aching eye pursued her path, When starting onward went the Dogs, More rapidly they hurried on In hope of near repose. It was the early morning yet When by the well-head of a brook They stopt, their journey done. The spring was clear, the water deep, A venturous man were he and rash That should have probed its depths, For all its loosened bed below Heaved strangely up and down, And to and fro, from side to side It heaved, and waved, and tossed, And yet the depths were clear, And yet no ripple wrinkled o’er The face of that fair Well. And on that Well so strange and fair A little boat there lay, Without on oar, without a sail, One only seat it had, one seat As if for only Thalaba. And at the helm a Damsel stood A Damsel bright and bold of eye, Yet did a maiden modesty Adorn her fearless brow. She seemed sorrowful, but sure More beautiful for sorrow. To her the Dogs looked wistful up, And then their tongues were loosed, “Have we done well, O Mistress dear! “And shall our sufferings end?” The gentle Damsel made reply, “Poor Servants of the God I serve, “When all this witchery is destroyed “Your woes will end with mine. “A hope, alas! how long unknown! “This new adventurer gives: “Now God forbid that he, like you, “Should perish for his fears! “Poor Servants of the God I serve “Wait ye the event in peace.” A deep and total slumber as she spake Seized them. Sleep on, poor sufferers! be at rest! Ye wake no more to anguish. Ye have borne The Chosen, the Destroyer! soon his hand Shall strike the efficient blow, Soon shaking off your penal forms shall ye With songs of joy amid the Eden groves Hymn the Deliverer’s praise! Then did the Damsel say to Thalaba, “The morn is young, the Sun is fair “And pleasantly thro’ pleasant banks “The quiet brook flows on.... “Wilt thou embark with me? “Thou knowest not the water’s way, “Think Stranger well! and night must come,... “Wilt thou embark with me? “Thro’ fearful perils thou must pass,... “Stranger, the oppressed ask thine aid! “Thou wilt embark with me!” She smiled in tears upon the youth,... What heart were his who could gainsay That melancholy smile? “Sail on, sail on,” quoth Thalaba, “Sail on, in Allah’s name!” He sate him on the single seat, The little boat moved on. Thro’ pleasant banks the quiet brook Went winding pleasantly; By fragrant fir groves now it past, And now thro’ alder-shores, Thro’ green and fertile meadows now It silently ran by. The flag-flower blossomed on its side, The willow tresses waved, The flowing current furrowed round The water-lilly’s floating leaf, The fly of green and gauzy wing Fell sporting down its course. And grateful to the voyager The freshness of the running stream, The murmur round the prow. The little boat falls rapidly Adown the rapid brook. But many a silent spring meantime, And many a rivulet Had swoln the growing brook, And when the southern Sun began To wind the downward way of heaven, It ran a river deep and wide Thro’ banks that widened still. Then once again the Damsel spake, “The stream is strong, the river broad, “Wilt thou go on with me? “The day is fair but night must come.... “Wilt thou go on with me? “Far far away the mourner’s eye “Is watching; for our little boat.... “Thou wilt go on with me!” “Sail on, sail on,” quoth Thalaba, “Sail on, in Allah’s name!” The little boat falls rapidly Adown the river-stream. A broader and a broader stream. That rocked the little boat! The Cormorant stands upon its shoals, His black and dripping wings Half opened to the wind. The Sun goes down, the crescent Moon Is brightening in the firmament; And what is yonder roar That sinking now and swelling now, But roaring, roaring still, Still louder, louder, grows? The little boat falls rapidly Adown the rapid tide, The Moon is bright above, And the wide Ocean opens on their way! Then did the Damsel speak again “Wilt thou go on with me? “The Moon is bright, the sea is calm “And I know well the ocean-paths;... “Wilt thou go on with me? “Deliverer! yes! thou dost not fear! “Thou wilt go on with me!” “Sail on, sail on!” quoth Thalaba “Sail on, in Allah’s name!” The Moon is bright, the sea is calm, The little boat rides rapidly Across the ocean waves; The line of moonlight on the deep Still follows as they voyage on; The winds are motionless; The gentle waters gently part In murmurs round the prow. He looks above, he looks around, The boundless heaven, the boundless sea, The crescent moon, the little boat, Nought else above, below. The Moon is sunk, a dusky grey Spreads o’er the Eastern sky, The Stars grow pale and paler; Oh beautiful! the godlike Sun Is rising o’er the sea! Without an oar, without a sail The little boat rides rapidly;... Is that a cloud that skirts the sea? There is no cloud in heaven! And nearer now, and darker now.... It is ... it is ... the Land! For yonder are the rocks that rise Dark in the reddening morn, For loud around their hollow base The surges rage and roar. The little boat rides rapidly, And now with shorter toss it heaves Upon the heavier swell; And now so near they see The shelves and shadows of the cliff, And the low-lurking rocks O’er whose black summits hidden-half The shivering billows burst. And nearer now they feel the breaker’s spray. Then spake the Damsel, “yonder is our path “Beneath the cavern arch. “Now is the ebb, and till the ocean-flow “We cannot over-ride the rocks. “Go thou and on the shore “Perform thy last ablutions, and with prayer “Strengthen thy heart.... I too have need to pray.” She held the helm with steady hand Amid the stronger waves, Thro’ surge and surf she drove, The adventurer leapt to land. |
|
