Lalla Rookh (Part 2)

On their arrival next night at the place of encampment they were surprised and delighted to find the groves all around illuminated; some artists of Yamtcheou having been sent on previously for the purpose. On each side of the green alley which led to the Royal Pavilion, artificial sceneries of bamboo-work were erected, representing arches, minarets, towers, from which hung thousands of silken lanterns painted by the most delicate pencils of Canton. --Nothing could be more beautiful than the leaves of the mango-trees and acacias, shining in the light of the bamboo-scenery, which shed a lustre round as soft as that of the nights of Peristan. LALLA ROOKH, however, who was too much occupied by the sad story of ZELICA and her lover to give a thought to anything else, except perhaps him who related it, hurried on through this scene of splendor to her pavilion, --greatly to the mortification of the poor artists of Yamtcheou, --and was followed with equal rapidity by the Great Chamberlain, cursing, as he went, that ancient Mandarin, whose parental anxiety in lighting up the shores of the lake, where his beloved daughter had wandered and been lost, was the origin of these fantastic Chinese illuminations. Without a moment's delay, young FERAMORZ was introduced, and FADLADEEN, who could never make up his mind as to the merits of a poet till he knew the religious sect to which he belonged, was about to ask him whether he was a Shia or a Sooni when LALLA ROOKH impatiently clapped her hands for silence, and the youth being seated upon the musnud near her proceeded:-- Prepare thy soul, young AZIM! --thou hast braved The bands of GREECE, still mighty tho' enslaved; Hast faced her phalanx armed with all its fame,-- Her Macedonian pikes and globes of fame, All this hast fronted with firm heart and brow, But a more perilous trial waits thee now,-- Woman's bright eyes, a dazzling host of eyes From every land where woman smiles or sighs; Of every hue, as Love may chance to raise His black or azure banner in their blaze; And each sweet mode of warfare, from the flash That lightens boldly thro' the shadowy lash, To the sly, stealing splendors almost hid Like swords half-sheathed beneath the downcast lid;-- Such, AZIM, is the lovely, luminous host Now led against thee; and let conquerors boast Their fields of fame, he who in virtue arms A young, warm spirit against beauty's charms, Who feels her brightness, yet defies her thrall, Is the best, bravest conqueror of them all. Now, thro' the Haram chambers, moving lights And busy shapes proclaim the toilet's rites;-- From room to room the ready handmaids hie, Some skilled to wreath the turban tastefully, Or hang the veil in negligence of shade O'er the warm blushes of the youthful maid, Who, if between the folds but one eye shone, Like SEBA'S Queen could vanquish with that one:-- While some bring leaves of Henna to imbue The fingers' ends with a bright roseate hue, So bright that in the mirror's depth they seem Like tips of coral branches in the stream: And others mix the Kohol's jetty dye, To give that long, dark languish to the eye, Which makes the maids whom kings are proud to call From fair Circassia's vales, so beautiful. All is in motion; rings and plumes and pearls Are shining everywhere: --some younger girls Are gone by moonlight to the garden-beds, To gather fresh, cool chaplets for their heads;-- Gay creatures! sweet, tho' mournful, 'tis to see How each prefers a garland from that tree Which brings to mind her childhood's innocent day And the dear fields and friendships far away. The maid of INDIA, blest again to hold In her full lap the Champac's leaves of gold, Thinks of the time when, by the GANGES' flood, Her little playmates scattered many a bud Upon her long black hair with glossy gleam Just dripping from the consecrated stream; While the young Arab haunted by the smell Of her own mountain flowers as by a spell,-- The sweet Alcaya and that courteous tree Which bows to all who seek its canopy, Sees called up round her by these magic scents The well, the camels, and her father's tents; Sighs for the home she left with little pain, And wishes even its sorrow back again! Meanwhile thro' vast illuminated halls, Silent and bright, where nothing but the falls Of fragrant waters gushing with cool sound From many a jasper fount is heard around, Young AZIM roams bewildered, --nor can guess What means this maze of light and loneliness. Here the way leads o'er tesselated floors Or mats of CAIRO thro' long corridors, Where ranged in cassolets and silver urns Sweet wood of aloe or of sandal burns, And spicy rods such as illume at night The bowers of TIBET send forth odorous light, Like Peris' wands, when pointing out the road For some pure Spirit to its blest abode:-- And here at once the glittering saloon Bursts on his sight, boundless and bright as noon; Where in the midst reflecting back the rays In broken rainbows a fresh fountain plays High as the enamelled cupola which towers All rich with Arabesques of gold and flowers: And the mosaic floor beneath shines thro' The sprinkling of that fountain's silvery dew, Like the wet, glistening shells of every dye That on the margin of the Red Sea lie. Here too he traces the kind visitings Of woman's love in those fair, living things Of land and wave, whose fate-- in bondage thrown For their weak loveliness-- is like her own! On one side gleaming with a sudden grace Thro' water brilliant as the crystal vase In which it undulates, small fishes shine Like golden ingots from a fairy mine;-- While, on the other, latticed lightly in With odoriferous woods of COMORIN, Each brilliant bird that wings the air is seen;-- Gay, sparkling loories such as gleam between The crimson blossoms of the coral-tree In the warm isles of India's sunny sea: Mecca's blue sacred pigeon, and the thrush Of Hindostan whose holy warblings gush At evening from the tall pagoda's top;-- Those golden birds that in the spice time drop About the gardens, drunk with that sweet food Whose scent hath lured them o'er the summer flood; And those that under Araby's soft sun Build their high nests of budding cinnamon; In short, all rare and beauteous things that fly Thro' the pure element here calmly lie Sleeping in light, like the green birds that dwell In Eden's radiant fields of asphodel! So on, thro' scenes past all imagining, More like the luxuries of that impious King, Whom Death's dark Angel with his lightning torch Struck down and blasted even in Pleasure's porch, Than the pure dwelling of a Prophet sent Armed with Heaven's sword for man's enfranchisement-- Young AZIM wandered, looking sternly round, His simple garb and war-boots clanking sound But ill according with the pomp and grace And silent lull of that voluptuous place. "Is this, then," thought the youth, "is this the way "To free man's spirit from the deadening sway "Of worldly sloth, --to teach him while he lives "To know no bliss but that which virtue gives, "And when he dies to leave his lofty name "A light, a landmark on the cliffs of fame? "It was not so, Land of the generous thought "And daring deed, thy god-like sages taught; "It was not thus in bowers of wanton ease "Thy Freedom nurst her sacred energies; "Oh! not beneath the enfeebling, withering glow "Of such dull luxury did those myrtles grow "With which she wreathed her sword when she would dare "Immortal deeds; but in the bracing air "Of toil, --of temperance, --of that high, rare, "Ethereal virtue, which alone can breathe "Life, health, and lustre into Freedom's wreath. "Who that surveys this span of earth we press.-- "This speck of life in time's great wilderness, "This narrow isthmus 'twixt two boundless seas, "The past, the future, two eternities!-- "Would sully the bright spot, or leave it bare, "When he might build him a proud temple there, "A name that long shall hallow all its space, "And be each purer soul's high resting-place. "But no--it cannot be, that one whom God "Has sent to break the wizard Falsehood's rod,-- "A Prophet of the Truth, whose mission draws "Its rights from Heaven, should thus profane its cause "With the world's vulgar pomps; --no, no, --I see-- "He thinks me weak-- this glare of luxury "Is but to tempt, to try the eaglet gaze "Of my young soul-- shine on, 'twill stand the blaze!" So thought the youth; --but even while he defied This witching scene he felt its witchery glide Thro' every sense. The perfume breathing round, Like a pervading spirit; --the still sound Of falling waters, lulling as the song Of Indian bees at sunset when they throng Around the fragrant NILICA, and deep In its blue blossoms hum themselves to sleep; And music, too-- dear music! that can touch Beyond all else the soul that loves it much-- Now heard far off, so far as but to seem Like the faint, exquisite music of a dream; All was too much for him, too full of bliss, The heart could nothing feel, that felt not this; Softened he sunk upon a couch and gave His soul up to sweet thoughts like wave on wave Succeeding in smooth seas when storms are laid; He thought of ZELICA, his own dear maid, And of the time when full of blissful sighs They sat and lookt into each other's eyes, Silent and happy-- as if God had given Naught else worth looking at on this side heaven. "Oh, my loved mistress, thou whose spirit still "Is with me, round me, wander where I will-- "It is for thee, for thee alone I seek "The paths of glory; to light up thy cheek "With warm approval-- in that gentle look "To read my praise as in an angel's book, "And think all toils rewarded when from thee "I gain a smile worth immortality! "How shall I bear the moment, when restored "To that young heart where I alone am Lord. "Tho' of such bliss unworthy, --since the best "Alone deserve to be the happiest:-- "When from those lips unbreathed upon for years "I shall again kiss off the soul-felt tears, "And find those tears warm as when last they started, "Those sacred kisses pure as when we parted. "O my own life! --why should a single day, "A moment keep me from those arms away?" While thus he thinks, still nearer on the breeze Come those delicious, dream-like harmonies, Each note of which but adds new, downy links To the soft chain in which his spirit sinks. He turns him toward the sound, and far away Thro' a long vista sparkling with the play Of countless lamps,--like the rich track which Day Leaves on the waters, when he sinks from us, So long the path, its light so tremulous;-- He sees a group of female forms advance, Some chained together in the mazy dance By fetters forged in the green sunny bowers, As they were captives to the King of Flowers; And some disporting round, unlinkt and free, Who seemed to mock their sisters' slavery; And round and round them still in wheeling flight Went like gay moths about a lamp at night; While others waked, as gracefully along Their feet kept time, the very soul of song From psaltery, pipe, and lutes of heavenly thrill, Or their own youthful voices heavenlier still. And now they come, now pass before his eye, Forms such as Nature moulds when she would vie With Fancy's pencil and give birth to things Lovely beyond its fairest picturings. Awhile they dance before him, then divide, Breaking like rosy clouds at eventide Around the rich pavilion of the sun,-- Till silently dispersing, one by one, Thro' many a path that from the chamber leads To gardens, terraces and moonlight meads, Their distant laughter comes upon the wind, And but one trembling nymph remains behind,-- Beckoning them back in vain-- for they are gone And she is left in all that light alone; No veil to curtain o'er her beauteous brow, In its young bashfulness more beauteous now; But a light golden chain-work round her hair, Such as the maids of YEZD and SHIRAS wear, From which on either side gracefully hung A golden amulet in the Arab tongue, Engraven o'er with some immortal line From Holy Writ or bard scarce less divine; While her left hand, as shrinkingly she stood, Held a small lute of gold and sandal-wood, Which once or twice she touched with hurried strain, Then took her trembling fingers off again. But when at length a timid glance she stole At AZIM, the sweet gravity of soul She saw thro' all his features calmed her fear, And like a half-tamed antelope more near, Tho' shrinking still, she came;--then sat her down Upon a musnud's edge, and, bolder grown. In the pathetic mode of ISFAHAN Touched a preluding strain and thus began:-- There's a bower of roses by BENDEMEER's stream, And the nightingale sings round it all the day long; In the time of my childhood 'twas like a sweet dream, To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song. That bower and its music, I never forget, But oft when alone in the bloom of the year I think-- is the nightingale singing there yet? Are the roses still bright by the calm BENDEMEER? 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; 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, 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 Blue water-lilies, 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, -- 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. 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 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. 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. 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, 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,-- 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!