Alroy

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'The young Alroy! I mark him. They must have a prince too! The young
Alroy! Well, let us away, and, dog!' shouted Alschiroch, rising in his
stirrups, and shaking his hand with a threatening air, 'dog! remember
thy tribute!'

Alroy rushed to the gate, but the massy lock was slow to open; and ere
he could succeed, the fiery steed had borne Alschiroch beyond pursuit.

An expression of baffled rage remained for a moment on his countenance;
for a moment he remained with his eager eye fixed on the route of his
vanished enemy, and then he walked slowly towards the tomb; but his
excited temper was now little in unison with the still reverie in
which he had repaired to the sepulchre to indulge. He was restless and
disquieted, and at length he wandered into the woods, which rose on the
summit of the burial-place.

He found himself upon a brow crested with young pine-trees, in the midst
of which rose a mighty cedar. He threw himself beneath its thick and
shadowy branches, and looked upon a valley small and green; in the midst
of which was a marble fountain, the richly-carved cupola,[4] supported
by twisted columns, and banded by a broad inscription in Hebrew
characters. The bases of the white pillars were covered with wild
flowers, or hidden by beds of variegated gourds. The transparent sunset
flung over the whole scene a soft but brilliant light.

The tranquil hour, the beauteous scene, the sweetness and the stillness
blending their odour and serenity, the gentle breeze that softly rose,
and summoned forth the languid birds to cool their plumage in the
twilight air, and wave their radiant wings in skies as bright---- Ah!
what stern spirit will not yield to the soft genius of subduing eve?

And Alroy gazed upon the silent loneliness of earth, and a tear stole
down his haughty cheek.

''Tis singular! but when I am thus alone at this still hour, I ever
fancy I gaze upon the Land of Promise. And often, in my dreams, some
sunny spot, the bright memorial of a roving hour, will rise upon my
sight, and, when I wake, I feel as if I had been in Canaan. Why am I
not? The caravan that bears my uncle's goods across the Desert would
bear me too. But I rest here, my miserable life running to seed in
the dull misery of this wretched city, and do nothing. Why, the old
captivity was empire to our inglorious bondage. We have no Esther now
to share their thrones, no politic Mordecai, no purple-vested Daniel. O
Jerusalem, Jerusalem! I do believe one sight of thee would nerve me
to the sticking-point. And yet to gaze upon thy fallen state, my uncle
tells me that of the Temple not a stone remains. 'Tis horrible. Is there
no hope?'

'_The bricks are fallen, but we will rebuild with marble; the sycamores
are cut down, but we will replace them with cedars._'

'The chorus of our maidens, as they pay their evening visit to the
fountain's side.[5] The burden is prophetic.

'Hark again! How beautifully, upon the soft and flowing air, their sweet
and mingled voices blend and float!'

'_YET AGAIN I WILL BUILD THEE, AND THOU SHALT BE BUILT, O VIRGIN OF
ISRAEL! YET AGAIN SHALT THOU DECK THYSELF WITH THY TABRETS, AND GO
FORTH IN THE DANCE OF THOSE THAT MAKE MERRY. YET AGAIN SHALT THOU PLANT
VINEYARDS ON THE MOUNTAINS OF SAMARIA._'

'See! their white forms break through the sparkling foliage of the sunny
shrubs as they descend, with measured step, that mild declivity. A
fair society in bright procession: each one clothed in solemn drapery,
veiling her shadowy face with modest hand, and bearing on her graceful
head a graceful vase. Their leader is my sister.

'And now they reach the fountain's side, and dip their vases in the
water, pure and beauteous as themselves. Some repose beneath the marble
pillars; some, seated 'mid the flowers, gather sweets, and twine them
into garlands; and that wild girl, now that the order is broken, touches
with light fingers her moist vase, and showers startling drops of
glittering light on her serener sisters. Hark! again they sing.'

'_O VINE OF SIBMAH! UPON THY SUMMER FRUITS, AND UPON THY VINTAGE, A
SPOILER HATH FALLEN!_'

A scream, a shriek, a long wild shriek, confusion, flight, despair!
Behold! from out the woods a tur-baned man rushes, and seizes the leader
of the chorus. Her companions fly on all sides, Miriam alone is left in
the arms of Alschiroch.

The water column wildly rising from the breast of summer ocean, in some
warm tropic clime, when the sudden clouds too well discover that the
holiday of heaven is over, and the shrieking sea-birds tell a time of
fierce commotion, the column rising from the sea, it was not so wild as
he, the young Alroy.

Pallid and mad, he swift upsprang, and he tore up a tree by its lusty
roots, and down the declivity, dashing with rapid leaps, panting
and wild, he struck the ravisher on the temple with the mighty pine.
Alschiroch fell lifeless on the sod, and Miriam fainting into her
brother's arms.

And there he stood, fixed and immovable, gazing upon his sister's
deathly face, and himself exhausted by passion and his exploit,
supporting her cherished but senseless body.

One of the fugitive maidens appeared reconnoitring in the distance.
When she observed her mistress in the arms of one of her own people, her
courage revived, and, desirous of rallying her scattered companions, she
raised her voice, and sang:

_'HASTE, DAUGHTERS OF JERUSALEM; O! HASTE, FOR THE LORD HAS AVENGED US,
AND THE SPOILER IS SPOILED._'

And soon the verse was responded to from various quarters of the woods,
and soon the virgins reassembled, singing,

'_WE COME, O DAUGHTER OF JERUSALEM! WE COME; FOR THE LORD HAS AVENGED
US, AND THE SPOILER IS SPOILED_.'

They gathered round their mistress, and one loosened her veil, and
another brought water from the fountain, and sprinkled her reviving
countenance. And Miriam opened her eyes, and said, 'My brother!' And he
answered, 'I am here.' And she replied in a low voice, 'Fly, David, fly;
for the man you have stricken is a prince among the people.'

'He will be merciful, my sister; and, doubtless, since he first erred,
by this time he has forgotten my offence.'

'Justice and mercy! Oh, my brother, what can these foul tyrants know
of either! Already he has perhaps doomed you to some refined and
procrastinated torture, already---- Ah! what unutterable woe is mine!
fly, my brother, fly!'

'Fly, fly, fly!'

'There is no fear, my Miriam; would all his accursed race could trouble
us as little as their sometime ruler. See, he sleeps soundly. But his
carcass shall not defile our fresh fountain and our fragrant flowers.
I'll stow it in the woods, and stroll here at night to listen to the
jackals at their banquet.'

'You speak wildly, David. What! No! It is impossible! He is not dead!
You have not slain him!

He sleeps, he is afraid. He mimics death that we may leave his side,
and he may rise again in safety. Girls, look to him. David, you do not
answer. Brother, dear brother, surely he has swooned! I thought he had
fled. Bear water, maidens, to that terrible man. I dare not look upon
him.'

'Away! I'll look on him, and I'll triumph. Dead! Alschiroch dead! Why,
but a moment since, this clotted carcass was a prince, my tyrant! So we
can rid ourselves of them, eh? If the prince fall, why not the people?
Dead, absolutely dead, and I his slayer! Hah! at length I am a man.
This, this indeed is life. Let me live slaying!'

'Woe! woe, our house is fallen! The wildness of his gestures frightens
me. David, David, I pray thee cease. He hears me not; my voice,
perchance, is thin. I am very faint. Maidens, kneel to your Prince, and
soothe the madness of his passion.'

'_SWEET IS THE VOICE OF A SISTER IN THE SEASON OF SORROW, AND WISE IS
THE COUNSEL OF THOSE WHO LOVE US_.'

'Why, this is my Goliath! a pebble or a stick, it is the same. The Lord
of Hosts is with us. Rightly am I called David.'

'_DELIVER US FROM OUR ENEMIES, O LORD! FROM THOSE WHO RISE UP AGAINST
US, AND THOSE WHO LIE IN WAIT FOR US_.'

[Illustration: page020]

'Were but this blow multiplied, were but the servants of my uncle's
house to do the same, why, we should see again the days of Elah! The
Philistine, the foul, lascivious, damnable Philistine! and he must touch
my sister! Oh! that all his tribe were here, all, all! I'd tie such
firebrands to their foxes' tails, the blaze should light to freedom!'

While he spoke, a maiden, who had not yet rejoined the company, came
running towards them swiftly with an agitated countenance.

'Fly,' she exclaimed, 'they come, they come!'

Miriam was reclining in an attendant's arms, feeble and faint, but the
moment her quick ear caught these words she sprang up, and seized her
brother's arm.

'Alroy! David! brother, dear brother! I beseech thee, listen, I am thy
sister, thy Miriam; they come, they come, the hard-hearted, wicked men,
they come, to kill, perhaps to torture thee, my tender brother. Rouse
thyself, David; rouse thyself from this wild, fierce dream: save
thyself, fly!'

'Ah! is it thou, Miriam? Thou seest he sleepeth soundly. I was dreaming
of noble purposes and mighty hopes. Tis over now. I am myself again.
What wouldst thou?'

'They come, the fierce retainers of this fallen man; they come to seize
thee. Fly, David!'

'And leave thee?'

'I and my maidens, we have yet time to escape by the private way we
entered, our uncle's garden. When in his house, we are for a moment
safe, as safe as our poor race can ever be. Bostenay is so rich, so
wise, so prudent, so learned in man's ways, and knows so well the
character and spirit of these men, all will go right; I fear nothing.
But thou, if thou art here, or to be found, thy blood alone will satiate
them. If they be persuaded that thou hast escaped, as I yet pray thou
mayest, their late master here, whom they could scarcely love, why, give
me thy arm an instant, sweet Beruna. So, that's well. I was saying, if
well bribed,--and they may have all my jewels,--why, very soon, he will
be as little in their memories as he is now in life. I can scarcely
speak; I feel my words wander, or seem to wander; I could swoon, but
will not; nay! do not fear. I will reach home. These maidens are my
charge. 'Tis in these crises we should show the worth of royal blood.
I'll see them safe, or die with them.'

'O! my sister, methinks I never knew I was a brother until this hour. My
precious Miriam, what is life? what is revenge, or even fame and freedom
without thee? I'll stay.'

'_SWEET IS THE VOICE OF A SISTER IN THE SEASON OF SORROW, AND WISE IS
THE COUNSEL OF THOSE WHO LOVE US_.'

'Fly, David, fly!'

'Fly! whither and how?'

The neigh of a horse sounded from the thicket.

'Ah! they come!' exclaimed the distracted Miriam.

'_ALL THIS HAS COME UPON US, O LORD! YET HAVE WE NOT FORGOTTEN THEE,
NEITHER HAVE WE DEALT FALSELY IN THY COVENANT_.'

'Hark! again it neighs! It is a horse that calleth to its rider. I see
it. Courage, Miriam! it is no enemy, but a very present friend in time
of trouble. It is Alschiroch's courser. He passed me on it by the tomb
ere sunset. I marked it well, a very princely steed.'

_'BEHOLD, BEHOLD, A RAM IS CAUGHT IN THE THICKET BY HIS HORNS._'

'Our God hath not forgotten us! Quick, maidens, bring forth the goodly
steed. What! do you tremble? I'll be his groom.'

'Nay! Miriam, beware, beware. It is an untamed beast, wild as the
whirlwind. Let me deal with him.'

He ran after her, dashed into the thicket, and brought forth the horse.

Short time I ween that stately steed had parted from his desert home;
his haughty crest, his eye of fire, the glory of his snorting nostril,
betoken well his conscious pride, and pure nobility of race. His colour
was like the sable night shining with a thousand stars, and he pawed the
ground with his delicate hoof, like an eagle flapping its wing.

Alroy vaulted on his back, and reined him with a master's hand.

'Hah!' he exclaimed, 'I feel more like a hero than a fugitive. Farewell,
my sister; farewell, ye gentle maidens; fare ye well, and cherish
my precious Miriam. One embrace, sweet sister,' and he bent down and
whispered, 'Tell the good Bostenay not to spare his gold, for I have a
deep persuasion that, ere a year shall roll its heavy course, I shall
return and make our masters here pay for this hurried ride and bitter
parting. Now for the desert!'

CHAPTER II.

_The Slaying of an Ishmaelite_

SPEED, fleetly speed, thou courser bold, and track the desert's
trackless way. Beneath thee is the boundless earth, above thee is the
boundless heaven, an iron soil and brazen sky. Speed, swiftly speed,
thou courser bold, and track the desert's trackless way. Ah! dost thou
deem these salty plains[6] lead to thy Yemen's happy groves, and
dost thou scent on the hot breeze the spicy breath of Araby? A sweet
delusion, noble steed, for this briny wilderness leads not to the happy
groves of Yemen, and the breath thou scentest on the coming breeze is
not the spicy breath of Araby.

The day has died, the stars have risen, with all the splendour of a
desert sky, and now the Night descending brings solace on her dewy wings
to the fainting form and pallid cheek of the youthful Hebrew Prince.

Still the courser onward rushes, still his mighty heart supports him.
Season and space, the glowing soil, the burning ray, yield to the
tempest of his frame, the thunder of his nerves, and lightning of his
veins.

Food or water they have none. No genial fount, no graceful tree, rise
with their pleasant company. Never a beast or bird is there, in that
hoary desert bare. Nothing breaks the almighty stillness. Even the
jackal's felon cry might seem a soothing melody. A grey wild rat, with
snowy whiskers, out of a withered bramble stealing, with a youthful
snake in its ivory teeth, in the moonlight grins with glee. This is
their sole society.

Morn comes, the fresh and fragrant morn, for which even the guilty sigh.
Morn comes, and all is visible. And light falls like a signet on the
earth, and its face is turned like wax beneath a seal. Before them and
also on their right was the sandy desert; but in the night they had
approached much nearer to the mountainous chain, which bounded the
desert on the left, and whither Alroy had at first guided the steed.

The mountains were a chain of the mighty Elburz; and, as the sun rose
from behind a lofty peak, the horse suddenly stopped and neighed, as if
asking for water. But Alroy, himself exhausted, could only soothe him
with caresses. And the horse, full of courage, understood his master,
and neighed again more cheerfully.

For an hour or two the Prince and his faithful companion proceeded
slowly, but, as the day advanced, the heat became so oppressive, and
the desire to drink so overwhelming, that Alroy again urged on the steed
towards the mountains, where he knew that he should find a well. The
courser dashed willingly forward, and seemed to share his master's
desire to quit the arid and exhausting wilderness.

More than once the unhappy fugitive debated whether he should not allow
himself to drop from his seat and die; no torture that could await him
at Hamadan but seemed preferable to the prolonged and inexpressible
anguish which he now endured. As he rushed along, leaning on his
bearer's neck, he perceived a patch of the desert that seemed of a
darker colour than the surrounding sand. Here, he believed, might
perhaps be found water. He tried to check the steed, but with difficulty
he succeeded, and with still greater difficulty dismounted. He knelt
down, and feebly raked up the sand with his hands. It was moist. He
nearly fainted over his fruitless labour. At length, when he had dug
about a foot deep, there bubbled up some water. He dashed in his hand,
but it was salt as the ocean. When the horse saw the water his ears
rose, but, when he smelt it, he turned away his head, and neighed most
piteously.

'Alas, poor beast!' exclaimed Alroy, 'I am the occasion of thy
suffering, I, who would be a kind master to thee, if the world would let
me. Oh, that we were once more by my own fair fountain! The thought is
madness. And Miriam too! I fear I am sadly tender-hearted.' He leant
against his horse's back, with a feeling of utter exhaustion, and burst
into hysteric sobs.

And the steed softly moaned, and turned its head, and gently rubbed its
face against his arm, as if to solace him in his suffering. And strange,
but Alroy was relieved by having given way to his emotion, and, charmed
with the fondness of the faithful horse, he leant down and took water,
and threw it over its feet to cool them, and wiped the foam from its
face, and washed it, and the horse again neighed.

And now Alroy tried to remount, but his strength failed him, and the
horse immediately knelt down and received him. And the moment that the
Prince was in his seat, the horse rose, and again proceeded at a rapid
pace in their old direction. Towards sunset they were within a few miles
of the broken and rocky ground into which the mountains descended; and
afar off Alroy recognised the cupola of the long-expected well. With
re-animated courage and rallied energies he patted his courser's neck,
and pointed in the direction of the cupola, and the horse pricked up its
ears, and increased its pace.

Just us the sun set, they reached the well. Alroy jumped off the horse,
and would have led it to the fountain, but the animal would not advance.
It stood shivering with a glassy eye, and then with a groan fell down
and died.

Night brings rest; night brings solace; rest to the weary, solace to the
sad. And to the desperate night brings despair.

The moon has sunk to early rest; but a thousand stars are in the sky.
The mighty mountains rise severe in the clear and silent air. In the
forest all is still. The tired wind no longer roams, but has lightly
dropped on its leafy couch, and sleeps like man. Silent all but the
fountain's drip. And by the fountain's side a youth is lying.

Suddenly a creature steals through the black and broken rocks. Ha, ha!
the jackal smells from afar the rich corruption of the courser's clay.
Suddenly and silently it steals, and stops, and smells. Brave banqueting
I ween to-night for all that goodly company. Jackal, and fox, and
marten-cat, haste ye now, ere morning's break shall call the vulture to
his feast and rob you of your prey.

The jackal lapped the courser's blood, and moaned with exquisite
delight. And in a moment, a faint bark was heard in the distance. And
the jackal peeled the flesh from one of the ribs, and again burst into a
shriek of mournful ecstasy.

Hark, their quick tramp! First six, and then three, galloping with
ungodly glee. And a marten-cat came rushing down from the woods; but
the jackals, fierce in their number, drove her away, and there she stood
without the circle, panting, beautiful, and baffled, with her white
teeth and glossy skin, and sparkling eyes of rabid rage.[7]

Suddenly as one of the half-gorged jackals retired from the main corpse,
dragging along a stray member by some still palpitating nerves, the
marten-cat made a spring at her enemy, carried off his prey, and rushed
into the woods.

Her wild scream of triumph woke a lion from his lair. His mighty form,
black as ebony, moved on a distant eminence, his tail flowed like a
serpent. He roared, and the jackals trembled, and immediately ceased
from their banquet, turning their heads in the direction of their
sovereign's voice. He advanced; he stalked towards them. They retired;
he bent his head, examined the carcass with condescending curiosity,
and instantly quitted it with royal disdain. The jackals again collected
around their garbage. The lion advanced to the fountain to drink. He
beheld a man. His mane rose, his tail was wildly agitated, he bent over
the sleeping Prince, he uttered an awful roar, which awoke Alroy.

He awoke; his gaze met the flaming eyes of the enormous beast fixed upon
him with a blended feeling of desire and surprise. He awoke, and from a
swoon; but the dreamless trance had refreshed the exhausted energies of
the desolate wanderer; in an instant he collected his senses, remembered
all that had passed, and comprehended his present situation. He returned
the lion a glance as imperious, and fierce, and scrutinsing, as his own.
For a moment, their flashing orbs vied in regal rivalry; but at length
the spirit of the mere animal yielded to the genius of the man. The
lion, cowed, slunk away, stalked with haughty timidity through the
rocks, and then sprang into the forest.

Morn breaks; a silver light is shed over the blue and starry sky.
Pleasant to feel is the breath of dawn. Night brings repose, but day
brings joy.

The carol of a lonely bird singing in the wilderness! A lonely bird that
sings with glee! Sunny and sweet, and light and clear, its airy notes
float through the sky, and trill with innocent revelry.

The lonely youth on the lonely bird upgazes from the fountain's side.
High in the air it proudly floats, balancing its crimson wings, and its
snowy tail, long, delicate, and thin, shines like a sparkling meteor in
the sun.

The carol of a lonely bird singing in the wilderness! Suddenly it
downward dashes, and thrice with circling grace it flies around the head
of the Hebrew Prince. Then by his side it gently drops a bunch of fresh
and fragrant dates.

'Tis gone, 'tis gone! that cheerful stranger, gone to the palmy land it
loves; gone like a bright and pleasant dream. A moment since and it was
there, glancing in the sunny air, and now the sky is without a guest.
Alas, alas! no more is heard the carol of that lonely bird singing in
the wilderness.

'As thou didst feed Elijah, so also hast thou fed me, God of my
fathers!' And Alroy arose, and he took his turban and unfolded it,
and knelt and prayed. And then he ate of the dates, and drank of the
fountain, and, full of confidence in the God of Israel, the descendant
of David pursued his flight.

He now commenced the ascent of the mountainous chain, a wearisome and
painful toil. Two hours past noon he reached the summit of the first
ridge, and looked over a wild and chaotic waste full of precipices
and ravines, and dark unfathomable gorges. The surrounding hills were
ploughed in all directions by the courses of dried-up cataracts, and
here and there a few savage goats browsed on an occasional patch of
lean and sour pasture. This waste extended for many miles; the distance
formed by a more elevated range of mountains, and beyond these, high in
the blue sky, rose the loftiest peaks of Elburz,[8] shining with sharp
glaciers of eternal snow.

It was apparent that Alroy was no stranger in the scene of his flight.
He had never hesitated as to his course, and now, after having rested
for a short time on the summit, he descended towards the left by a
natural but intricate path, until his progress was arrested by a black
ravine. Scarcely half a dozen yards divided him from the opposite
precipice by which it was formed, but the gulf beneath, no one could
shoot a glance at its invisible termination without drawing back with a
cold shudder.

The Prince knelt down and examined the surrounding ground with great
care. At length he raised a small square stone which covered a metallic
plate, and, taking from his vest a carnelian talisman covered with
strange characters, he knocked thrice upon the plate with the signet.
A low solemn murmur sounded around. Presently the plate flew off, and
Alroy pulled forth several yards of an iron chain, which he threw over
to the opposite precipice. The chain fastened without difficulty to
the rock, and was evidently constrained by some magnetic influence.
The Prince, seizing the chain with both his hands, now swung across
the ravine. As he landed, the chain parted from the rock, swiftly
disappeared down the opposite aperture, and its covering closed with the
same low, solemn murmur as before.

Alroy proceeded for about a hundred paces through a natural cloister
of basalt until he arrived at a large uncovered court of the same
formation, which a stranger might easily have been excused for believing
to have been formed and smoothed by art. In its centre bubbled up a
perpetual spring, icy cold; the stream had worn a channel through the
pavement, and might be traced for some time wandering among the rocks,
until at length it leaped from a precipice into a gorge below, in a
gauzy shower of variegated spray. Crossing the court, Alroy now entered
a vast cavern.

The cavern was nearly circular in form, lighted from a large aperture
in the top. Yet a burning lamp, in a distant and murky corner, indicated
that its inhabitant did not trust merely to this natural source of the
great blessing of existence. In the centre of the cave was a circular
and brazen table, sculptured with strange characters and mysterious
figures: near it was a couch, on which lay several volumes.[9] Suspended
from the walls were a shield, some bows and arrows, and other arms.

As the Prince of the Captivity knelt down and kissed the vacant couch, a
figure advanced from the extremity of the cavern into the light. He
was a man of middle age, considerably above the common height, with
a remarkably athletic frame, and a strongly-marked but majestic
countenance. His black beard descended to his waist, over a dark red
robe, encircled by a black girdle embroidered with yellow characters,
like those sculptured on the brazen table. Black also was his turban,
and black his large and luminous eye.

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