The Complete Poems of Sir Thomas Moore

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No, the roses soon withered that hung o'er the wave,
But some blossoms were gathered while freshly they shone.
And a dew was distilled from their flowers that gave
All the fragrance of summer when summer was gone.

Thus memory draws from delight ere it dies
An essence that breathes of it many a year;
Thus bright to my soul, as 'twas then to my eyes,
Is that bower on the banks of the calm BENDEMEER!

"Poor maiden!" thought the youth, "if thou wert sent
"With thy soft lute and beauty's blandishment
"To wake unholy wishes in this heart,
"Or tempt its truth, thou little know'st the art.
"For tho' thy lips should sweetly counsel wrong,
"Those vestal eyes would disavow its song.
"But thou hast breathed such purity, thy lay
"Returns so fondly to youth's virtuous day,
"And leads thy soul--if e'er it wandered thence--
"So gently back to its first innocence,
"That I would sooner stop the unchained dove,
"When swift returning to its home of love,
"And round its snowy wing new fetters twine.
"Than turn from virtue one pure wish of thine!"

Scarce had this feeling past, when sparkling thro'
The gently open'd curtains of light blue
That veiled the breezy casement, countless eyes
Peeping like stars thro' the blue evening skies,
Looked laughing in as if to mock the pair
That sat so still and melancholy there:--
And now the curtains fly apart and in
From the cool air mid showers of jessamine
Which those without fling after them in play,
Two lightsome maidens spring,--lightsome as they
Who live in the air on odors,--and around
The bright saloon, scarce conscious of the ground,
Chase one another in a varying dance
Of mirth and languor, coyness and advance,
Too eloquently like love's warm pursuit:--
While she who sung so gently to the lute
Her dream of home steals timidly away,
Shrinking as violets do in summer's ray,--
But takes with her from AZIM'S heart that sigh
We sometimes give to forms that pass us by
In the world's crowd, too lovely to remain,
Creatures of light we never see again!

Around the white necks of the nymphs who danced
Hung carcanets of orient gems that glanced
More brilliant than the sea-glass glittering o'er
The hills of crystal on the Caspian shore;[77]
While from their long, dark tresses, in a fall
Of curls descending, bells as musical
As those that on the golden-shafted trees
Of EDEN shake in the eternal breeze,[78]
Rung round their steps, at every bound more sweet.
As 'twere the ecstatic language of their feet.
At length the chase was o'er, and they stood wreathed
Within each other's arms; while soft there breathed
Thro' the cool casement, mingled with the sighs
Of moonlight flowers, music that seemed to rise
From some still lake, so liquidly it rose;
And as it swelled again at each faint close
The ear could track thro' all that maze of chords
And young sweet voices these impassioned words:--

A SPIRIT there is whose fragrant sigh
Is burning now thro' earth and air;
Where cheeks are blushing the Spirit is nigh,
Where lips are meeting the Spirit is there!

His breath is the soul of flowers like these,
And his floating eyes--oh! they resemble[79]
Blue water-lilies,[80] when the breeze
Is making the stream around them tremble.

Hail to thee, hail to thee, kindling power!
Spirit of Love, Spirit of Bliss!
Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour,
And there never was moonlight so sweet as this.

By the fair and brave
Who blushing unite,
Like the sun and wave,
When they meet at night;

By the tear that shows
When passion is nigh,
As the rain-drop flows
From the heat of the sky;

By the first love-beat
Of the youthful heart,
By the bliss to meet,
And the pain to part;

By all that thou hast
To mortals given,
Which--oh, could it last,
This earth were heaven!

We call thee thither, entrancing Power!
Spirit of Love! Spirit of Bliss!
Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour,
And there never was moonlight so sweet as this.

Impatient of a scene whose luxuries stole,
Spite of himself, too deep into his soul,
And where, midst all that the young heart loves most,
Flowers, music, smiles, to yield was to be lost,
The youth had started up and turned away
From the light nymphs and their luxurious lay
To muse upon the pictures that hung round,--[81]
Bright images, that spoke without a sound,
And views like vistas into fairy ground.
But here again new spells came o'er his sense:--
All that the pencil's mute omnipotence
Could call up into life, of soft and fair,
Of fond and passionate, was glowing there;
Nor yet too warm, but touched with that fine art
Which paints of pleasure but the purer part;
Which knows even Beauty when half-veiled is best,--
Like her own radiant planet of the west,
Whose orb when half retired looks loveliest.[82]
_There_ hung the history of the Genii-King,
Traced thro' each gay, voluptuous wandering
With her from SABA'S bowers, in whose bright eyes
He read that to be blest is to be wise;--
_Here_ fond ZULEIKA woos with open arms[83]
The Hebrew boy who flies from her young charms,
Yet flying turns to gaze and half undone
Wishes that Heaven and she could _both_ be won;
And here MOHAMMED born for love and guile
Forgets the Koran in his MARY'S smile;--
Then beckons some kind angel from above
With a new text to consecrate their love.[84]

With rapid step, yet pleased and lingering eye,
Did the youth pass these pictured stories by,
And hastened to a casement where the light
Of the calm moon came in and freshly bright
The fields without were seen sleeping as still
As if no life remained in breeze or rill.
Here paused he while the music now less near
Breathed with a holier language on his ear,
As tho' the distance and that heavenly ray
Thro' which the sounds came floating took away
All that had been too earthly in the lay.

Oh! could he listen to such sounds unmoved,
And by that light--nor dream of her he loved?
Dream on, unconscious boy! while yet thou may'st;
'Tis the last bliss thy soul shall ever taste.
Clasp yet awhile her image to thy heart,
Ere all the light that made it dear depart.
Think of her smiles as when thou saw'st them last,
Clear, beautiful, by naught of earth o'ercast;
Recall her tears to thee at parting given,
Pure as they weep, _if_ angels weep in Heaven.
Think in her own still bower she waits thee now
With the same glow of heart and bloom of brow,
Yet shrined in solitude--thine all, thine only,
Like the one star above thee, bright and lonely.
Oh! that a dream so sweet, so long enjoyed,
Should be so sadly, cruelly destroyed!

The song is husht, the laughing nymphs are flown,
And he is left musing of bliss alone;--
Alone?--no, not alone--that heavy sigh,
That sob of grief which broke from some one nigh--
Whose could it be?--alas! is misery found
Here, even here, on this enchanted ground?
He turns and sees a female form close veiled,
Leaning, as if both heart and strength had failed,
Against a pillar near;--not glittering o'er
With gems and wreaths such as the others wore,
But in that deep-blue, melancholy dress.[85]
BOKHARA'S maidens wear in mindfulness
Of friends or kindred, dead or far away;--
And such as ZELICA had on that day
He left her--when with heart too full to speak
He took away her last warm tears upon his cheek.

A strange emotion stirs within him,--more
Than mere compassion ever waked before;
Unconsciously he opes his arms while she
Springs forward as with life's last energy,
But, swooning in that one convulsive bound,
Sinks ere she reach his arms upon the ground;--
Her veil falls off--her faint hands clasp his knees--
'Tis she herself!--it is ZELICA he sees!
But, ah, so pale, so changed--none but a lover
Could in that wreck of beauty's shrine discover
The once adorned divinity--even he
Stood for some moments mute, and doubtingly
Put back the ringlets from her brow, and gazed
Upon those lids where once such lustre blazed,
Ere he could think she was _indeed_ his own,
Own darling maid whom he so long had known
In joy and sorrow, beautiful in both;
Who, even when grief was heaviest--when loath
He left her for the wars--in that worst hour
Sat in her sorrow like the sweet night-flower,[86]
When darkness brings its weeping glories out,
And spreads its sighs like frankincense about.

"Look up, my ZELICA--one moment show
"Those gentle eyes to me that I may know
"Thy life, thy loveliness is not all gone,
"But _there_ at least shines as it ever shone.
"Come, look upon thy AZIM--one dear glance,
"Like those of old, were heaven! whatever chance
"Hath brought thee here, oh, 'twas a blessed one!
"There--my loved lips--they move--that kiss hath run
"Like the first shoot of life thro' every vein,
"And now I clasp her, mine, all mine again.
"Oh the delight--now, in this very hour,
"When had the whole rich world been in my power,
"I should have singled out thee only thee,
"From the whole world's collected treasury--
"To have thee here--to hang thus fondly o'er
"My own, best, purest ZELICA once more!"

It was indeed the touch of those fond lips
Upon her eyes that chased their short eclipse.
And gradual as the snow at Heaven's breath
Melts off and shows the azure flowers beneath,
Her lids unclosed and the bright eyes were seen
Gazing on his--not, as they late had been,
Quick, restless, wild, but mournfully serene;
As if to lie even for that tranced minute
So near his heart had consolation in it;
And thus to wake in his beloved caress
Took from her soul one half its wretchedness.
But, when she heard him call her good and pure,
Oh! 'twas too much--too dreadful to endure!
Shuddering she broke away from his embrace.
And hiding with both hands her guilty face
Said in a tone whose anguish would have riven
A heart of very marble, "Pure!--oh Heaven!"--

That tone--those looks so changed--the withering blight,
That sin and sorrow leave where'er they light:
The dead despondency of those sunk eyes,
Where once, had he thus met her by surprise,
He would have seen himself, too happy boy,
Reflected in a thousand lights of joy:
And then the place,--that bright, unholy place,
Where vice lay hid beneath each winning grace
And charm of luxury as the viper weaves
Its wily covering of sweet balsam leaves,[87]--
All struck upon his heart, sudden and cold
As death itself;--it needs not to be told--
No, no--he sees it all plain as the brand
Of burning shame can mark--whate'er the hand,
That could from Heaven and him such brightness sever,
'Tis done--to Heaven and him she's lost for ever!
It was a dreadful moment; not the tears,
The lingering, lasting misery of years
Could match that minute's anguish--all the worst
Of sorrow's elements in that dark burst
Broke o'er his soul and with one crash of fate
Laid the whole hopes of his life desolate.

"Oh! curse me not," she cried, as wild he tost
His desperate hand towards Heav'n--"tho' I am lost,
"Think not that guilt, that falsehood made me fall,
"No, no--'twas grief, 'twas madness did it all!
"Nay, doubt me not--tho' all thy love hath ceased--
"I know it hath--yet, yet believe, at least,
"That every spark of reason's light must be
"Quenched in this brain ere I could stray from thee.
"They told me thou wert dead--why, AZIM, why
"Did we not, both of us, that instant die
"When we were parted? oh! couldst thou but know
"With what a deep devotedness of woe
"I wept thy absence--o'er and o'er again
"Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew pain,
"And memory like a drop that night and day
"Falls cold and ceaseless wore my heart away.
"Didst thou but know how pale I sat at home,
"My eyes still turned the way thou wert to come,
"And, all the long, long night of hope and fear,
"Thy voice and step still sounding in my ear--
"Oh God! thou wouldst not wonder that at last,
"When every hope was all at once o'ercast,
"When I heard frightful voices round me say
"_Azim is dead_!--this wretched brain gave way,
"And I became a wreck, at random driven,
"Without one glimpse of reason or of Heaven--
"All wild--and even this quenchless love within
"Turned to foul fires to light me into sin!--
"Thou pitiest me--I knew thou wouldst--that sky
"Hath naught beneath it half so lorn as I.
"The fiend, who lured me hither--hist! come near.
"Or thou too, _thou_ art lost, if he should hear--
"Told me such things--oh! with such devilish art.
"As would have ruined even a holier heart--
"Of thee, and of that ever-radiant sphere,
"Where blest at length, if I but served him here,
"I should for ever live in thy dear sight.
"And drink from those pure eyes eternal light.
"Think, think how lost, how maddened I must be,
"To hope that guilt could lead to God or thee!
"Thou weep'st for me--do weep--oh, that I durst
"Kiss off that tear! but, no--these lips are curst,
"They must not touch thee;--one divine caress,
"One blessed moment of forgetfulness
"I've had within those arms and _that_ shall lie
"Shrined in my soul's deep memory till I die;
"The last of joy's last relics here below,
"The one sweet drop, in all this waste of woe,
"My heart has treasured from affection's spring,
"To soothe and cool its deadly withering!
"But thou--yes, thou must go--for ever go;
"This place is not for thee--for thee! oh no,
"Did I but tell thee half, thy tortured brain
"Would burn like mine, and mine go wild again!
"Enough that Guilt reigns here--that hearts once good
"Now tainted, chilled and broken are his food.--
"Enough that we are parted--that there rolls
"A flood of headlong fate between our souls,
"Whose darkness severs me as wide from thee
"As hell from heaven to all eternity!"

"ZELICA, ZELICA!" the youth exclaimed.
In all the tortures of a mind inflamed
Almost to madness--"by that sacred Heaven,
"Where yet, if prayers can move, thou'lt be forgiven,
"As thou art here--here, in this writhing heart,
"All sinful, wild, and ruined as thou art!
"By the remembrance of our once pure love,
"Which like a church-yard light still burns above
"The grave of our lost souls--which guilt in thee
"Cannot extinguish nor despair in me!
"I do conjure, implore thee to fly hence--
"If thou hast yet one spark of innocence,
"Fly with me from this place"--
"With thee! oh bliss!
"'Tis worth whole years of torment to hear this.
"What! take the lost one with thee?--let her rove
"By thy dear side, as in those days of love,
"When we were both so happy, both so pure--
"Too heavenly dream! if there's on earth a cure
"For the sunk heart, 'tis this--day after day
"To be the blest companion of thy way;
"To hear thy angel eloquence--to see
"Those virtuous eyes for ever turned on me;
"And in their light re-chastened silently,
"Like the stained web that whitens in the sun,
"Grow pure by being purely shone upon!
"And thou wilt pray for me--I know thou wilt--
"At the dim vesper hour when thoughts of guilt
"Come heaviest o'er the heart thou'lt lift thine eyes
"Full of sweet tears unto the darkening skies
"And plead for me with Heaven till I can dare
"To fix my own weak, sinful glances there;
"Till the good angels when they see me cling
"For ever near thee, pale and sorrowing,
"Shall for thy sake pronounce my soul forgiven,
"And bid thee take thy weeping slave to Heaven!
"Oh yes, I'll fly with thee"--
Scarce had she said
These breathless words when a voice deep and dread
As that of MONKER waking up the dead
From their first sleep--so startling 'twas to both--
Rang thro' the casement near, "Thy oath! thy oath!"
Oh Heaven, the ghastliness of that Maid's look!--
"'Tis he," faintly she cried, while terror shook
Her inmost core, nor durst she lift her eyes,
Tho' thro' the casement, now naught but the skies
And moonlight fields were seen, calm as before--
"'Tis he, and I am his--all, all is o'er--
"Go--fly this instant, or thou'rt ruin'd too--
"My oath, my oath, oh God! 'tis all too true,
"True as the worm in this cold heart it is--
"I am MOKANNA'S bride--his, AZIM, his--
"The Dead stood round us while I spoke that vow,
"Their blue lips echoed it--I hear them now!
"Their eyes glared on me, while I pledged that bowl,
"'Twas burning blood--I feel it in my soul!
"And the Veiled Bridegroom--hist! I've seen to-night
"What angels know not of--so foul a sight.
"So horrible--oh! never may'st thou see
"What _there_ lies hid from all but hell and me!
"But I must hence--off, off--I am not thine,
"Nor Heaven's, nor Love's, nor aught that is divine--
"Hold me not--ha! think'st thou the fiends that sever
"Hearts cannot sunder hands?--thus, then--for ever!"

With all that strength which madness lends the weak
She flung away his arm; and with a shriek
Whose sound tho' be should linger out more years
Than wretch e'er told can never leave his ears--
Flew up thro' that long avenue of light,
Fleetly as some dark, ominous bird of night,
Across the sun; and soon was out of sight!

LALLA ROOKH could think of nothing all day but the misery of those two
young lovers. Her gayety was gone, and she looked pensively even upon
FADLAPEEN. She felt, too, without knowing why, a sort of uneasy pleasure
in imagining that AZIM must have been just such a youth as FERAMORZ; just
as worthy to enjoy all the blessings, without any of the pangs, of that
illusive passion, which too often like the sunny apples of Istkahar[88]
is all sweetness on one side and all bitterness on the other.

As they passed along a sequestered river after sunset they saw a young
Hindoo girl upon the bank, whose employment seemed to them so strange that
they stopped their palankeens to observe her. She had lighted a small lamp
filled with oil of cocoa, and placing it in an earthen dish adorned with a
wreath of flowers, had committed it with a trembling hand to the stream;
and was now anxiously watching its progress down the current, heedless of
the gay cavalcade which had drawn up beside her. LALLA ROOKH was all
curiosity;--when one of her attendants, who had lived upon the banks of
the Ganges, (where this ceremony is so frequent that often in the dusk of
the evening the river is seen glittering all over with lights, like the
Oton-tala or Sea of Stars,)[89] informed the princess that it was the
usual way in which the friends of those who had gone on dangerous voyages
offered up vows for their safe return. If the lamp sunk immediately the
omen was disastrous; but if it went shining down the stream and continued
to burn till entirely out of sight, the return of the beloved object was
considered as certain.

LALLA ROOKH as they moved on more than once looked back to observe how the
young Hindoo's lamp proceeded; and while she saw with pleasure that it was
still unextinguished she could not help fearing that all the hopes of this
life were no better than that feeble light upon the river. The remainder
of the journey was passed in silence. She now for the first time felt that
shade of melancholy which comes over the youthful maiden's heart as sweet
and transient as her own breath upon a mirror; nor was it till she heard
the lute of FERAMOKZ, touched lightly at the door of her pavilion that she
waked from the revery in which she had been wandering. Instantly her eyes
were lighted up with pleasure; and after a few unheard remarks from
FADLADEEN upon the indecorum of a poet seating himself in presence of a
Princess everything was arranged as on the preceding evening and all
listened with eagerness while the story was thus continued:--

Whose are the gilded tents that crowd the way,
Where all was waste and silent yesterday?
This City of War which, in a few short hours,
Hath sprung up here, as if the magic powers[90]
Of Him who, in the twinkling of a star,
Built the high pillared halls of CHILMINAR,[91]
Had conjur'd up, far as the eye can see,
This world of tents and domes and sunbright armory:--
Princely pavilions screened by many a fold
Of crimson cloth and topt with balls of gold:--
Steeds with their housings of rich silver spun,
Their chains and poitrels glittering in the sun;
And camels tufted o'er with Yemen's shells[92]
Shaking in every breeze their light-toned bells!

But yester-eve, so motionless around,
So mute was this wide plain that not a sound
But the far torrent or the locust bird[93]
Hunting among thickets could be heard;--
Yet hark! what discords now of every kind,
Shouts, laughs, and screams are revelling in the wind;
The neigh of cavalry;--the tinkling throngs
Of laden camels and their drivers' songs;--
Ringing of arms, and flapping in the breeze
Of streamers from ten thousand canopies;--[94]
War-music bursting out from time to time
With gong and tymbalon's tremendous chime;--
Or in the pause when harsher sounds are mute,
The mellow breathings of some horn or flute,
That far off, broken by the eagle note
Of the Abyssinian trumpet, swell and float.[95]

Who leads this mighty army?--ask ye "who?"
And mark ye not those banners of dark hue,
The Night and Shadow, over yonder tent?--[96]
It is the CALIPH'S glorious armament.
Roused in his Palace by the dread alarms,
That hourly came, of the false Prophet's arms,
And of his host of infidels who hurled
Defiance fierce at Islam and the world,[97]
Tho' worn with Grecian warfare, and behind
The veils of his bright Palace calm reclined,
Yet brooked he not such blasphemy should stain,
Thus unrevenged, the evening of his reign;
But having sworn upon the Holy Grave[98]
To conquer or to perish, once more gave
His shadowy banners proudly to the breeze,
And with an army nurst in victories,
Here stands to crush the rebels that o'errun
His blest and beauteous Province of the Sun.

Ne'er did the march of MAHADI display
Such pomp before;--not even when on his way
To MECCA'S Temple, when both land and sea
Were spoiled to feed the Pilgrim's luxury;[99]
When round him mid the burning sands he saw
Fruits of the North in icy freshness thaw,
And cooled his thirsty lip beneath the glow
Of MECCA'S sun with urns of Persian snow:--
Nor e'er did armament more grand than that
Pour from the kingdoms of the Caliphat.
First, in the van, the People of the Rock[100]
On their light mountain steeds of royal stock:[101]
Then chieftains of DAMASCUS proud to see
The flashing of their swords' rich marquetry;--[102]
Men from the regions near the VOLGA'S mouth
Mixt with the rude, black archers of the South;
And Indian lancers in white-turbaned ranks
From the far SINDE or ATTOCK'S sacred banks,
With dusky legions from the Land of Myrrh,[103]
And many a mace-armed Moor and Midsea islander.

Nor less in number tho' more new and rude
In warfare's school was the vast multitude
That, fired by zeal or by oppression wronged,
Round the white standard of the impostor thronged.
Beside his thousands of Believers--blind,
Burning and headlong as the Samiel wind--
Many who felt and more who feared to feel
The bloody Islamite's converting steel,
Flockt to his banner;--Chiefs of the UZBEK race,
Waving their heron crests with martial grace;[104]
TURKOMANS, countless as their flocks, led forth
From the aromatic pastures of the North;
Wild warriors of the turquoise hills,--and those[105]
Who dwell beyond the everlasting snows
Of HINDOO KOSH, in stormy freedom bred,
Their fort the rock, their camp the torrent's bed.
But none of all who owned the Chief's command
Rushed to that battle-field with bolder hand
Or sterner hate than IRAN'S outlawed men,
Her Worshippers of Fire--all panting then[106]
For vengeance on the accursed Saracen;
Vengeance at last for their dear country spurned,
Her throne usurpt, and her bright shrines o'erturned.

From YEZD'S eternal Mansion of the Fire[107]
Where aged saints in dreams of Heaven expire:
From BADKU and those fountains of blue flame
That burn into the CASPIAN, fierce they came,[108]
Careless for what or whom the blow was sped,
So vengeance triumpht and their tyrants bled.

Such was the wild and miscellaneous host
That high in air their motley banners tost
Around the Prophet-Chief--all eyes still bent
Upon that glittering Veil, where'er it went,
That beacon thro' the battle's stormy flood,
That rainbow of the field whose showers were blood!

Twice hath the sun upon their conflict set
And risen again and found them grappling yet;
While streams of carnage in his noontide blaze,
Smoke up to Heaven--hot as that crimson haze
By which the prostrate Caravan is awed[109]
In the red Desert when the wind's abroad.
"Oh, Swords of God!" the panting CALIPH calls,--
"Thrones for the living--Heaven for him who falls!"--
"On, brave avengers, on," MOKANNA cries,
"And EBLIS blast the recreant slave that flies!"
Now comes the brunt, the crisis of the day--
They clash--they strive--the CALIPH'S troops give way!
MOKANNA'S self plucks the black Banner down,
And now the Orient World's Imperial crown
Is just within his grasp--when, hark, that shout!
Some hand hath checkt the flying Moslem's rout;
And now they turn, they rally--at their head
A warrior, (like those angel youths who led,
In glorious panoply of Heaven's own mail,
The Champions of the Faith thro BEDER'S vale,)[110]
Bold as if gifted with ten thousand lives,
Turns on the fierce pursuers' blades, and drives
At once the multitudinous torrent back--
While hope and courage kindle in his track;
And at each step his bloody falchion makes
Terrible vistas thro' which victory breaks!
In vain MOKANNA, midst the general flight,
Stands like the red moon on some stormy night
Among the fugitive clouds that hurrying by
Leave only her unshaken in the sky--
In vain he yells his desperate curses out,
Deals death promiscuously to all about,
To foes that charge and coward friends that fly,
And seems of _all_ the Great Archenemy.
The panic spreads--"A miracle!" throughout
The Moslem ranks, "a miracle!" they shout,
All gazing on that youth whose coming seems
A light, a glory, such as breaks in dreams;
And every sword, true as o'er billows dim
The needle tracks the lode-star, following him!