Classic Poem

She loves — but knows not whom she loves,
Nor what his race, nor whence he came —
Like one who meets, in Indian groves,
Some beauteous bird, without a name,
Brought by the last ambrosial breeze
From isles in the undiscovered seas
To show his plumage for a day
To wondering eyes, and wing away!
Will he thus fly — her nameless lover?
Allah forbid! 'Twas by a moon
As fair as this, while singing over
Some ditty to her soft kanoon,
Alone, at this same witching-hour,
She first beheld his radiant eyes
Gleam through the lattice of the bower
Where nightly now they mix their sighs,
And thought some spirit of the air
(For what could waft a mortal there?)
Was pausing on his moonlight way
To listen to her lonely lay!

This fancy ne'er hath left her mind,
And though, when terror's swoon had passed,
She saw a youth of mortal kind
Before her in obeisance cast,
Yet often since, when he has spoken
Strange, awful words, and gleams have broken
From his dark eyes too bright to bear,
Oh, she hath feared her soul was given
To some unhallowed child of air,
Some erring spirit, cast from Heaven,
Like those angelic youths of old,
Who burned for maids of mortal mould,
Bewildered left the glorious skies,
And lost their Heaven for woman's eyes!
Fond girl — nor fiend nor angel he,
Who woos thy young simplicity,
But one of Earth's impassioned sons
As warm in love, as fierce in ire,
As the best here whose current runs
Full of the Day-God's living fire!

But quenched tonight that ardour seems,
And pale his cheek, and sunk his brow.
Never before, but in her dreams,
Had she beheld him pale as now —
And those were dreams of troubled sleep
From which 'twas joy to wake and weep,
Visions that will not be forgot
But sadden every waking scene
Like warning ghosts, that leave the spot
All withered where they once have been.

" How sweetly", said the trembling maid,
Of her own gentle voice afraid
(So long had they in silence stood,
Looking upon that moonlight flood) —
" How sweetly does the moonbeam smile
Tonight upon yon leafy isle!
I've wished that little isle had wings,
And we, within its fairy-bowers,
Were wafted off to seas unknown
Where not a pulse should beat but ours
And we might live, love, die, alone,
Far from the cruel and the cold,
Where the bright eyes of angels only
Should come around us to behold
A paradise so pure and lonely!
Would this be world enough for thee?"

Playful she turned, that he might see
The passing smile her cheek put on;
But when she marked how mournfully
His eyes met hers, that smile was gone,
And, bursting into heart-felt tears,
" Yes, yes", she cried, " my hourly fears,
My dreams, have boded all too right —
We part, for ever part, tonight!
I knew, I knew, it could not last —
'Twas bright, 'twas heavenly, but 'tis past!

Oh ever thus, from childhood's hour,
I've seen my fondest hopes decay —
I never loved a tree or flower,
But 'twas the first to fade away!
I never nursed a dear gazelle,
To glad me with its soft black eye,
But when it came to know me well,
And love me, it was sure to die!
Now too, the joy most like divine
Of all I ever dreamed or knew,
To see thee, hear thee, call thee mine —
Oh misery! must I lose that too?
Yet go! On peril's brink we meet:
Those frightful rocks, that treacherous sea —
No, never come again — though sweet,
Though heaven, it may be death to thee!
Farewell, and blessings on thy way
Where'er thou goest, beloved stranger!
Better to sit and watch that ray,
And think thee safe, though far away,
Than have thee near me and in danger!"

" Danger — oh tempt me not to boast!"
The youth exclaimed, " Thou little knowest
What he can brave, who, born and nursed
In Danger's paths, has dared the worst —
Upon whose ear the signal-word
Of strife and death is hourly breaking,
Who sleeps with head upon the sword
His fevered hand must grasp in waking!
Danger!"
" Say on! Thou fearest not then,
And we may meet — oft meet again?"

" Oh look not so! Beneath the skies
I now fear nothing but those eyes.
If aught on earth could charm or force
My spirit from its destined course —
If aught could make this soul forget
The bond to which its seal is set,
'Twould be those eyes — they, only they,
Could melt that sacred seal away!
But no — 'tis fixed — my awful doom
Is fixed! On this side of the tomb
We meet no more — why, why, did Heaven
Mingle two souls that Earth has riven,
Has rent asunder, wide as ours?
Oh arab maid — as soon the powers
Of light and darkness may combine
As I be linked with thee, or thine!
Thy father — "
" Holy Allah save
His gray head from that lightning glance!
Thou knowest him not — he loves the brave,
Nor lives their under heaven's expanse
One who would prize, would worship thee
And thy bold spirit, more than he!
Oft when in childhood I have played
With the bright falchion by his side,
I've heard him swear his lisping maid
In time should be a warrior's bride.
And still, whene'er at haram-hours,
I take him cool sherbets and flowers,
He tells me (when in playful mood)
A hero shall my bridegroom be —
Since maids are best in battle wooed,
And won mid shouts of victory!
Nay, turn not from me — thou alone
Art formed to make both hearts thy own!
Go, join his sacred ranks — thou knowest
The unholy strife these Persians wage —
Good Heaven, that frown! Even now thou glowest
With more than mortal warrior's rage!
Haste to the camp by morning's light,
And when that sword is raised in fight
Oh still remember love and I
Beneath its shadow trembling lie!
One victory o'er those slaves of fire —
Those impious Ghebers, whom my sire
Abhors — "
" Hold, hold — thy words are death!"
The stranger cried, as wild he flung
His mantle back, and showed beneath
The Gheber belt that round him clung:
" Here, maiden, look — weep — blush, to see
All that thy sire abhors in me!
Yes! I am of that impious race —
Those " slaves of fire" who, morn and even,
Hail their Creator's dwelling-place
Among the living lights of Heaven!
Yes! I am of that outcast few,
To Iran and to vengeance true,
Who curse the hour your arabs came
To desolate our shrines of flame —
And swear, before God's burning eye,
To break our country's chains, or die!
Thy bigot sire — nay, tremble not —
He who gave birth to those dear eyes
With me is sacred as the spot
From which our fires of worship rise!

But know, 'twas he I sought that night
When from my watch-boat on the sea
I caught this turret's glimmering light,
And up the rude rocks desperately
Rushed to my prey! Thou knowest the rest —
I climbed the gory vulture's nest,
And found a trembling dove within!
Thine, thine, the victory — thine the sin —
If Love has made one thought his own
Which Vengeance claims first — last — alone!
Oh, had we never, never met,
Or could this heart even now forget
How linked, how blest, we might have been,
Had Fate not frowned so dark between!

Hadst thou been born a Persian maid,
In neighbouring valleys had we dwelt,
Through the same fields in childhood played,
At the same kindling altar knelt,
While all those nameless ties
In which the charm of Country lies
Had round our hearts been hourly spun,
Till Iran's cause and thine were one —
While in thy lute's awakening sigh
I heard the voice of days gone by
And saw in every smile of thine
Returning hours of glory shine —
While the wronged spirit of our land
Lived, looked and spoke, her wrongs through thee!
God! who could then this sword withstand?
Its very flash were victory!
But now, estranged, divorced for ever
Far as the grasp of Fate can sever,
Our only ties what love has wove
(Faith, friends, and country, sundered wide),
And then, then only, true to love,
When false to all that's dear beside;
Thy father Iran's deadliest foe,
Thyself perhaps even now — but no!
Hate never looked so lovely yet!
No — sacred to thy soul will be
The land of him who could forget
All but that bleeding land for thee!
When other eyes shall see, unmoved,
Her widows mourn, her warriors fall,
Thou'lt think how well one Gheber loved,
And for his sake thou'lt weep for all.
But look!"
With sudden start he turned
And pointed to the distant wave
Where lights, like charnel meteors, burned
Bluely, as o'er some seaman's grave,
And fiery darts at intervals
Flew up all sparkling from the main,
As if each star that nightly falls
Were shooting back to heaven again.

My signal-lights! I must away —
Both, both, are ruined if I stay.
Farewell, sweet life — thou clingst in vain —
Now, Vengeance, I am thine again!"
Fiercely he broke away, nor stopped,
Nor looked, but from the lattice dropped
Down mid the pointed crags beneath,
As if he fled from life to death —
While pale and mute young Hinda stood,
Nor moved, till in the silent flood
A momentary plunge below
Startled her from her trance of woe.
Shrieking, she to the lattice flew:
" I come, I come — if in that tide
Thou sleepst tonight, I'll sleep there too,
In death's cold wedlock by thy side.
Oh, I would ask no happier bed
Than the chill wave my love lies under —
Sweeter to rest together dead,
Far sweeter, than to live asunder!"

But no, their hour is not yet come:
Again she sees his pinnace fly,
Wafting him fleetly to his home
(Where'er that ill-starred home may lie),
And calm and smooth it seemed to win
Its moonlight way before the wind,
As if it bore all peace within
Nor left one breaking heart behind!