The Eighth Book

1.

WOMAN .

Go not among the Tombs, Old Man!
There is a madman there.

OLD MAN .

Will he harm me if I go?

WOMAN .

Not he, poor miserable man!
But 'tis a wretched sight to see
His utter wretchedness.
For all day long he lies on a grave,
And never is he seen to weep,
And never is he heard to groan,
Nor even at the hour of prayer
Bends his knee nor moves his lips.
I have taken him food for charity,
And never a word he spake;
But yet so ghastly he look'd,
That I have awaken'd at night
With the dream of his ghastly eyes.
Now, go not among the Tombs, Old Man!

OLD MAN .

Wherefore has the wrath of God
So sorely stricken him?

WOMAN .

He came a stranger to the land,
And did good service to the Sultan,
And well his service was rewarded.
The Sultan named him next himself,
And gave a palace for his dwelling,
And dower'd his bride with rich domains.
But on his wedding night
There came the Angel of Death
Since that hour, a man distracted
Among the sepulchres he wanders.
The Sultan, when he heard the tale,
Said that for some untold crime,
Judgment thus had stricken him,
And asking Heaven forgiveness
That he had shown him favor,
Abandon'd him to want.

OLD MAN .

A Stranger did you say!

WOMAN .

An Arab born, like you.
But go not among the Tombs,
For the sight of his wretchedness
Might make a hard heart ache!

OLD MAN .

Nay, nay, I never yet have shunn'd
A countryman in distress;
And the sound of his dear native tongue
May be like the voice of a friend.

2.

Then to the Sepulchre
Whereto she pointed him,
Old Moath bent his way.
By the tomb lay Thalaba,
In the light of the setting eve;
The sun, and the wind, and the rain,
Had rusted his raven locks;
His cheeks were fallen in,
His face-bones prominent;
Reclined against the tomb he lay,
And his lean fingers play'd,
Unwitting, with the grass that grew beside.

3.

The Old Man knew him not,
But drawing near him, said,
" Countryman, peace be with thee! "
The sound of his dear native tongue
Awaken'd Thalaba;
He raised his countenance,
And saw the good Old Man,
And he arose and fell upon his neck,
And groan'd in bitterness.
Then Moath knew the youth,
And fear'd that he was childless; and he turn'd
His asking eyes, and pointed to the tomb.
" Old Man! " cried Thalaba,
" Thy search is ended here! "
4.

The father's cheek grew white,
And his lip quiver'd with the misery;
Howbeit, collectedly, with painful voice
He answer'd, " God is good! His will be done! "

5.

The woe in which he spake,
The resignation that inspired his speech,
They soften'd Thalaba.
" Thou hast a solace in thy grief, " he cried,
" A comforter within!
Moath! thou seest me here,
Deliver'd to the Evil Powers,
A God-abandon'd wretch. "

6.

The Old Man look'd at him incredulous.
" Nightly, " the youth pursued,
" Thy daughter comes to drive me to despair.
Moath, thou thinkest me mad;
But when the Crier from the Minaret
Proclaims the midnight hour,
Hast thou a heart to see her? "

7.

In the Meidan now
The clang of clarions and of drums
Accompanied the Sun's descent.
" Dost thou not pray, my son? "
Said Moath, as he saw
The white flag waving on the neighboring Mosque:
Then Thalaba's eye grew wild
" Pray! " echoed he, " I must not pray! "
And the hollow groan he gave
Went to the Old Man's heart.
And bowing down his face to earth,
In fervent agony he call'd on God.
8.

A night of darkness and of storms!
Into the Chamber of the Tomb,
Thalaba led the Old Man,
To roof him from the rain.
A night of storms! the wind
Swept through the moonless sky,
And moan'd among the pillar'd sepulchres;
And in the pauses of its sweep
They heard the heavy rain
Beat on the monument above.
In silence on Oneiza's grave
Her Father and her husband sat.

9.

The Crier from the Minaret
Proclaim'd the midnight hour.
" Now, now! " cried Thalaba;
And o'er the chamber of the tomb
There spread a lurid gleam,
Like the reflection of a sulphur fire;
And in that hideous light
Oneiza stood before them. It was She, —
Her very lineaments, — and such as death
Had changed them, livid cheeks, and lips of blue
But in her eyes there dwelt
Brightness more terrible
Than all the loathsomeness of death.
" Still art thou living, wretch? "
In hollow tones she cried to Thalaba;
" And must I nightly leave my grave
To tell thee, still in vain,
God hath abandon'd thee? "

10.

" This is not she! " the Old Man exclaim'd
" A Fiend; a manifest Fiend! "
And to the youth he held his lance;
" Strike and deliver thyself! "
" Strike HER ! " cried Thalaba,
And, palsied of all power,
Gazed fixedly upon the dreadful form.
" Yea, strike her! " cried a voice, whose tones
Flow'd with such sudden healing through soul,
As when the desert shower
From death deliver'd him;
But, unobedient to that well-known voice,
His eye was seeking it,
When Moath, firm of heart,
Perform'd the bidding: through the vampire cores
He thrust his lance; it fell,
And, howling with the wound,
Its fiendish tenant fled.
A sapphire light fell on them,
And garmented with glory, in their sight
Oneiza's Spirit stood.

11.

" O Thalaba! " she cried,
" Abandon not thyself!
Wouldst thou forever lose me? — O my husband
Go and fulfil thy quest,
That in the Bowers of Paradise
I may not look for thee
In vain, nor wait thee long. "

12.

To Moath then the Spirit
Turn'd the dark lustre of her heavenly eyes
" Short is thy destined path,
O my dear Father! to the abode of bliss:
Return to Araby;
There with the thought of death
Comfort thy lonely age,
And Azrael, the Deliverer, soon
Will visit thee in peace. "
13.

They stood with earnest eyes,
And arms outreaching, when again
The darkness closed around them.
The soul of Thalaba revived;
He from the floor his quiver took,
And as he bent the bow, exclaim'd,
" Was it the overruling Providence
That in the hour of frenzy led my hands
Instinctively to this?
To-morrow, and the sun shall brace anew
The slacken'd cord, that now sounds loose and damp;
To-morrow, and its livelier tone will sing
In tort vibration to the arrow's flight.
I — but I also, with recovered health
Of heart, shall do my duty.
My Father! here I leave thee then! " he cried,
" And not to meet again,
Till, at the gate of Paradise,
The eternal union of our joys commence.
We parted last in darkness! " — and the youth
Thought with what other hopes;
But now his heart was calm,
For on his soul a heavenly hope had dawn'd.

14.

The Old Man answered nothing, but he held
His garment, and to the door
Of the Tomb Chamber followed him.
The rain had ceased; the sky was wild,
Its black clouds broken by the storm.
And, lo! it chanced, that in the chasm
Of Heaven between, a star,
Leaving along its path continuous light,
Shot eastward. " See my guide! " quoth Thalaba;
And turning, he received
Old Moath's last embrace,
And the last blessing of the good Old Man.

15.

Evening was drawing nigh,
When an old Dervise, sitting in the sun
At the cell door, invited for the night
The traveller; in the sun
He spread the plain repast,
Rice and fresh grapes; and at their feet there flow'd
The brook of which they drank.

16.

So as they sat at meal,
With song, with music, and with dance,
A wedding train went by;
The deep-veil'd bride, the female slaves,
The torches of festivity,
And trump and timbrel merriment
Accompanied their way.
The good old Dervise gave
A blessing as they past;
But Thalaba look'd on,
And breathed a low, deep groan, and hid his face.
The Dervise had known sorrow, and he felt
Compassion; and his words
Of pity and of piety
Open'd the young man's heart,
And he told all his tale.

17.

" Repine not, O my Son! " the Old Man replied,
" That Heaven hath chasten'd thee. Behold this vine:
I found it a wild tree, whose wanton strength
Had swollen into irregular twigs
And bold excrescences,
And spent itself in leaves and little rings,
So, in the flourish of its outwardness,
Wasting the sap and strength
That should have given forth fruit.
But when I pruned the plant,
Then it grew temperate in its vain expense
Of useless leaves, and knotted, as thou seest,
Into these full, clear clusters, to repay
The hand that wisely wounded it.
Repine not, O my Son!
In wisdom and in mercy Heaven inflicts
Its painful remedies. "

18.

Then pausing, — " Whither goest thou now? " he ask'd.
" I know not, " answered Thalaba
" My purpose is to hold
Straight on, secure of this,
That, travel where I will, I cannot stray,
For Destiny will lead my course aright. "

19.

" Far be from me, " the Old Man replied,
" To shake that pious confidence;
And yet, if knowledge may be gain'd, methinks
Thy course should be to seek it painfully.
In Kaf the Simorg hath his dwelling-place,
The all-knowing Bird of Ages, who hath seen
The World, with all its children, thrice destroy'd.
Long is the path,
And difficult the way, of danger full;
But that unerring Bird
Could to a certain end
Direct thy weary search. "

20.

Easy assent the youth
Gave to the words of wisdom; and behold,
At dawn, the adventurer on his way to Kaf.
And he hath travelled many a day
And many a river swum over,
And many a mountain ridge hath cross'd,
And many a measureless plain;
And now, amid the wilds advanced,
Long is it since his eyes
Have seen the trace of man.

21.

Cold! cold! 'tis a chilly clime
That the youth in his journey hath reach'd,
And he is aweary now,
And faint for lack of food.
Cold! cold! there is no Sun in heaven;
A heavy and uniform cloud
Overspreads the face of the sky,
And the snows are beginning to fall.
Dost thou wish for thy deserts, O Son of Hodeirah?
Dost thou long for the gales of Arabia?
Cold! cold! his blood flows languidly,
His hands are red, his lips are blue,
His feet are sore with the frost.
Cheer thee! cheer thee! Thalaba!
A little yet bear up!

22.

All waste! no sign of life
But the track of the wolf and the bear!
No sound but the wild, wild wind,
And the snow crunching under his feet!
Night is come; neither moon, nor stars,
Only the light of the snow!
But behold a fire in a cave of the hill,
A heart-reviving fire;
And thither, with strength renew'd,
Thalaba presses on.

23.

He found a Woman in the cave,
A solitary Woman,
Who by the fire was spinning,
And singing as she spun.
The pine boughs were cheerfully blazing,
And her face was bright with the flame;
Her face was as a Damsel's face,
And yet her hair was gray.
She bade him welcome with a smile,
And still continued spinning,
And singing as she spun.
The thread the woman drew
Was finer than the silkworm's,
Was finer than the gossamer;
The song she sung was low and sweet,
But Thalaba knew not the words.

24.

He laid his bow before the hearth,
For the string was frozen stiff;
He took the quiver from his neck,
For the arrow-plumes were iced.
Then, as the cheerful fire
Revived his languid limbs,
The adventurer ask'd for food.
The Woman answer'd him,
And still her speech was song:
" The She Bear she dwells near to me,
And she hath cubs, one, two, and three;
She hunts the deer, and brings him here,
And then with her I make good cheer;
And now to the chase the She Bear is gone,
And she with her prey will be here anon. "

25.

She ceased her spinning while she spake;
And when she had answer'd him,
Again her fingers twirl'd the thread,
And again the Woman began,
In low, sweet tones to sing,
The unintelligible song.

26.

The thread she spun it gleam'd like gold
In the light of the odorous fire;
Yet was it so wondrously thin,
That, save when it shone in the light,
You might look for it closely in vain.
The youth sat watching it,
And she observed his wonder,
And then again she spake,
And still her speech was song:
" Now twine it round thy hands, I say,
Now twine it round thy hands, I pray;
My thread is small, my thread is fine,
But he must be
A stronger than thee,
Who can break this thread of mine! "

27.

And up she raised her bright blue eyes,
And sweetly she smiled on him,
And he conceived no ill;
And round and round his right hand,
And round and round his left,
He wound the thread so fine.
And then again the Woman spake,
And still her speech was song:
" Now thy strength, O Stranger, strain
Now then break the slender chain. "

28.

Thalaba strove; but the thread
By magic hands was spun,
And in his cheek the flush of shame
Arose, commix'd with fear.
She beheld, and laugh'd at him,
And then again she sung:
" My thread is small, my thread is fine,
But he must be
A stronger than thee,
Who can break this thread of mine! "
29.

And up she raised her bright blue eyes,
And fiercely she smiled on him:
" I thank thee, I thank thee, Hodeirah's son!
I thank thee for doing what can't be undone
For binding thyself in the chain I have spun
Then from his head she wrench'd
A lock of his raven hair,
And cast it in the fire,
And cried aloud as it burnt,
" Sister! Sister! hear my voice!
Sister! Sister! come and rejoice!
The thread is spun,
The prize is won,
The work is done,
For I have made captive Hodeirah's Son. "

30.

Borne in her magic car
The Sister Sorceress came,
Khawla, the fiercest of the Sorcerer brood.
She gazed upon the youth;
She bade him break the slender thread;
She laugh'd aloud for scorn;
She clapp'd her hands for joy.

31.

The She Bear from the chase came in;
She bore the prey in her bloody mouth;
She laid it at Maimuna's feet;
And then look'd up with wistful eyes,
As if to ask her share.
" There! There! " quoth Maimuna,
And pointing to the prisoner-youth,
She spurn'd him with her foot,
And bade her make her meal.
But then their mockery fail'd them,
And anger and shame arose;
For the She Bear fawn'd on Thalaba,
And quietly lick'd his hand.

32.

The gray-hair'd Sorceress stamp'd the ground,
And call'd a Spirit up;
" Shall we bear the Enemy
To the dungeon dens below? "

SPIRIT .

Woe! woe! to our Empire woe!
If ever he tread the caverns below.

MAIMUNA .

Shall we leave him fetter'd here
With hunger and cold to die?

SPIRIT .

Away from thy lonely dwelling fly!
Here I see a danger nigh,
That he should live, and thou shouldst die.

MAIMUNA .

Whither then must we bear the foe?

SPIRIT .

To Mohareb's island go;
There shalt thou secure the foe,
There prevent thy future woe.

33.

Then in the Car they threw
The fetter'd Thalaba,
And took their seats, and set
Their feet upon his neck;
Maimuna held the reins,
And Khawla shook the scourge,
And away! away! away!

34.

They were no steeds of mortal race
That drew the magic car
With the swiftness of feet and of wings.
The snow-dust rises behind them;
The ice-rock's splinters fly;
And hark, in the valley below
The sound of their chariot wheels, —
And they are far over the mountains!
Away! away! away!
The Demons of the air
Shout their joy as the Sisters pass;
The Ghosts of the Wicked that wander by night
Flit over the magic car.

35.

Away! away! away!
Over the hills and the plains,
Over the rivers and rocks,
Over the sands of the shore
The waves of ocean heave
Under the magic steeds;
With unwet hoofs they trample the deep,
And now they reach the Island coast,
And away to the city the Monarch's abode.
Open fly the city gates,
Open fly the iron doors,
The doors of the palace-court.
Then stopp'd the charmed car.

36.

The Monarch heard the chariot wheels,
And forth he came to greet
The mistress whom he served.
He knew the captive youth,
And Thalaba beheld
Mohareb in the robes of royalty,
Whom erst his arm had thrust
Down the bitumen pit.
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