The Thalaba the Destroyer - Fourth Book
1.
Whose is yon dawning form,
That in the darkness meets
The delegated youth?
Dim as the shadow of a fire at noon,
Or pale reflection, on the evening brook,
Of glow-worm on the bank,
Kindled to guide her winged paramour.
2.
A moment, and the brightening image shaped
His Mother's form and features. " Go, " she cried,
To Babylon, and from the Angels learn
What talisman thy task requires. "
3.
The Spirit hung toward him when she ceased,
As though with actual lips she would have given
A mother's kiss. His arms outstretch'd,
His body bending on,
His mouth unclosed and trembling into speech,
He press'd to meet the blessing; but the wind
Play'd on his cheek: he look'd, and he beheld
The darkness close. " Again! again! " he cried,
" Let me again behold thee! " from the darkness
His Mother's voice went forth —
" Thou shalt behold me in the hour of death. "
4.
Day dawns, the twilight gleam dilates,
The Sun comes forth, and like a god
Rides through rejoicing heaven.
Old Moath and his daughter, from their tent,
Beheld the adventurous youth,
Dark-moving o'er the sands,
A lessening image, trembling through their tears
Visions of high emprise
Beguiled his lonely road;
And if sometimes to Moath's tent
The involuntary mind recurr'd,
Fancy, impatient of all painful thoughts,
Pictured the bliss should welcome his return.
In dreams like these he went;
And still of every dream
Oneiza form'd a part,
And hope and memory made a mingled joy.
5.
In the eve he arrived at a Well;
An Acacia bent over its side,
Under whose long light-hanging boughs
He chose his night's abode.
There, due ablutions made, and prayers perform'd,
The youth his mantle spread,
And silently produced
His solitary meal.
The silence and the solitude recall'd
Dear recollections; and with folded arms,
Thinking of other days, he sate, till thought
Had left him, and the Acacia's moving shade
Upon the sunny sand
Had caught his idle eye;
And his awaken'd ear
Heard the gray Lizard's chirp,
The only sound of life.
6.
As thus in vacant quietness he sate,
A Traveller on a Camel reach'd the Well,
And courteous greeting gave.
The mutual salutation past,
He by the cistern, too, his garment spread,
And friendly converse cheer'd the social meal.
7.
The Stranger was an ancient man,
Yet one whose green old age
Bore the fair characters of temperate youth:
So much of manhood's strength his limbs retain'd,
It seem'd he needed not the staff he bore.
His beard was long, and gray, and crisp;
Lively his eyes, and quick,
And reaching over them
The large broad eyebrow curl'd.
His speech was copious, and his winning words
Enrich'd with knowledge, that the attentive youth
Sate listening with a thirsty joy.
8.
So, in the course of talk,
The adventurer youth inquir'd
Whither his course was bent.
The Old Man answered, " To Bagdad I go
At that so welcome sound, a flash of joy
Kindled the eye of Thalaba;
" And I too, " he replied,
" Am journeying thitherward;
Let me become companion of thy way! "
Courteous the Old Man smiled,
And willing in assent.
9.
OLD MAN .
Son, thou art young for travel.
THALABA .
Until now
I never past the desert boundary.
OLD MAN .
It is a noble city that we seek.
Thou wilt behold magnificent Palaces,
And lofty Minarets, and high-domed Mosques,
And rich Bazars, whither from all the world
Industrious merchants meet, and market there
The world's collected wealth.
THALABA .
Stands not Bagdad
Near to the site of ancient Babylon,
And Nimrod's impious temple?
OLD MAN .
From the walls
'Tis but a long day's distance
THALABA .
And the ruins
OLD MAN .
A mighty mass remains; enough to tell us
How great our fathers were, how little we.
Men are not what they were; their crimes and follies
Have dwarf'd them down from the old hero race
To such poor things as we
THALABA .
At Babylon
I have heard the Angels expiate their guilt,
Haruth and Maruth.
OLD MAN .
'Tis a history
Handed from ages down; a nurse's tale,
Which children, open-eyed and mouth'd, devour;
And thus, as garrulous Ignorance relates,
We learn it and believe. But all things feel
The power of Time and Change; thistles and grass
Usurp the desolate palace, and the weeds
Of Falsehood root in the aged pile of Truth.
How have you heard the tale?
THALABA
Thus: — on a time
The Angels at the wickedness of man
Express'd indignant wonder; that in vain
Tokens and signs were given, and Prophets sent.
Strange obstinacy this! a stubbornness
Of sin, they said, that should forever bar
The gates of mercy on them. Allah heard
Their unforgiving pride, and bade that two
Of these untempted Spirits should descend
Judges on Earth. Haruth and Maruth went
The chosen Sentencers; they fairly heard
The appeals of men to their tribunal brought
And rightfully decided. At the length
A Woman came before them; beautiful
Zohara was, as yonder Evening Star,
In the mild lustre of whose lovely light.
Even now her beauty shines. They gazed on him
With fleshly eyes; they tempted her to sin
The wily woman listen'd, and required
A previous price, the knowledge of the name
Of God. She learnt the wonder-working name.
And gave it utterance, and its virtue bore her
Up to the glorious Presence, and she told
Before the awful Judgment-Seat her tale.
OLD MAN .
I know the rest. The accused Spirits were call
Unable of defence, and penitent,
They own'd their crime, and heard the doom deserved.
Then they besought the Lord that not forever
His wrath might be upon them, and implored
That penal ages might at length restore them
Clean from offence: since then by Babylon,
In the cavern of their punishment, they dwell
Runs the conclusion so?
THALABA .
So I am taught.
OLD MAN .
The common tale! And likely thou hast heard
How that the bold and bad, with impious rites,
Intrude upon their penitence, and force,
Albeit from loathing and reluctant lips,
The sorcery-secret?
THALABA .
Is it not the truth?
OLD MAN .
Son, thou hast seen the Traveller in the sands
Move through the dizzy light of hot noon-day
Huge as the giant race of elder times;
And his Camel, than the monstrous Elephant
Seem of a vaster bulk.
THALABA .
A frequent sight.
OLD MAN .
And hast thou never, in the twilight, fancied
Familiar object into some strange shape
And form uncouth?
THALABA .
Ay! many a time.
OLD MAN .
Even so
Things view'd at distance, through the mist of
By their distortion terrify and shock
The abused sight.
THALABA .
But of these Angels' fate
Thus in the uncreated book is written.
OLD MAN .
Wisely from legendary fables Heaven
Inculcates wisdom.
THALABA .
How then is the truth?
Is not the dungeon of their punishment
By ruin'd Babylon?
OLD MAN .
By Babylon
Haruth and Maruth may be found.
THALABA .
And there
Magicians learn their impious sorcery?
OLD MAN .
Son, what thou say'st is true, and it is false.
But night approaches fast; I have travell'd far,
And my old lids are heavy; — on our way
e shall have hours for converse; — let us now
Turn to our due repose. Son, peace be with thee!
10.
So in his loosen'd cloak
The Old Man wrapt himself,
And laid his limbs at length;
And Thalaba in silence laid him down.
A while he lay, and watch'd the lovely Moon,
O'er whose broad orb the boughs
A mazy fretting framed,
Or with a pale, transparent green
Lighting the restless leaves,
The thin Acacia leaves that play'd above.
The murmuring wind, the moving leaves,
Soothed him at length to sleep,
With mingled lullabies of sight and sound.
11.
Not so the dark Magician by his side,
Lobaba, who from the Domdaniel caves
Had sought the dreaded youth.
Silent he lay, and simulating sleep,
Till, by the long and regular breath he knew,
The youth beside him slept.
Carefully then he rose,
And bending over him, survey'd him near;
And secretly he cursed
The dead Abdaldar's ring,
Arm'd by whose amulet
He slept from danger safe
12.
Wrapt in his mantle Thalaba reposed,
His loose right arm pillowing his easy head.
The Moon was on the Ring,
Whose crystal gem return'd
A quiet, moveless light.
Vainly the Wizard vile put forth his hand,
And strove to reach the gem;
Charms, strong as hell could make them, kept it safe.
He call'd his servant-fiends,
He bade the Genii rob the sleeping youth
By the virtue of the Ring,
By Mahommed's holier power,
By the holiest name of God,
Had Thalaba disarm'd the evil race
13.
Baffled and weary, and convinced at length,
Anger, and fear, and rancor gnawing him,
The accursed Sorcerer ceased his vain attempts,
Content perforce to wait
Temptation's likelier aid.
Restless he lay, and brooding many a wile,
And tortured with impatient hope,
And envying with the bitterness of hate.
The innocent youth, who slept so sweetly by
14.
The ray of morning on his eyelids fell,
And Thalaba awoke,
And folded his mantle around him,
And girded his loins for the day;
Then the due rites of holiness observed.
His comrade too arose,
And with the outward forms
Of righteousness and prayer insulted God.
They fill'd their water skin, they gave
The Camel his full draught.
Then on the road, while yet the morn was young,
And the air was fresh with dew,
Forward the travellers went,
With various talk beguiling the long way.
But soon the youth, whose busy mind
Dwelt on Lobaba's wonder-stirring words,
Renew'd the unfinish'd converse of the night
15.
Thou said'st that it is true, and yet is false,
That men accurst attain at Babylon
Forbidden knowledge from the Angel pair: —
How mean you?
LOBAB
All things have a double power,
Alike for good and evil. The same fire
That on the comfortable hearth at eve
Warm'd the good man, flames o'er the house at night;
Should we for this forego
The needful element?
Because the scorching summer Sun
Darts fever, wouldst thou quench the orb of day?
Or deemest thou that Heaven in anger form'd
Iron to till the field, because when man.
Had tipt his arrows for the chase, he rush'd
A murderer to the war?
THALABA .
What follows hence?
LOBABA .
That nothing in itself is good or evil,
But only in its use. Think you the man
Praiseworthy, who by painful study learns
The knowledge of all simples, and their power,
Healing or harmful?
THALABA .
All men hold in honor
The skilful Leech. From land to land he goes
Safe in his privilege; the sword of war
Spares him; Kings welcome him with costly gifts;
And he who late had from the couch of pain
Lifted a languid look to him for aid,
Beholds him with glad eyes, and blesses him
In his first thankful prayer
LOBABA .
Yet some there are
Who to the purposes of wickedness
Apply this knowledge, and from herbs distil
Poison, to mix it in the trusted draught.
THALABA .
Allah shall cast them in the eternal fire
Whose fuel is the cursed! there shall they
Endure the ever-burning agony,
Consuming still in flames, and still renew'd.
LOBABA .
But is their knowledge therefore in itself
Unlawful?
THALABA .
That were foolishness to think.
LOBABA .
Oh, what a glorious animal were Man,
Knew he but his own powers, and knowing, gave them
Room for their growth and spread! The Horse obeys
His guiding will; the patient Camel bears him
Over these wastes of sand; the Pigeon wafts
His bidding through the sky; — and with these triumphs
He rests contented! — with these ministers, —
When he might awe the Elements, and make
Myriads of Spirits serve him!
THALABA .
But as how?
By a league with Hell, a covenant that binds
The soul to utter death!
LOBABA .
Was Solomon
Accurst of God? Yet to his talismans
Obedient, o'er his thro e the birds of Heaven,
Their waving wings his in-shield, fann'd around him
The motionless air of noon; from place to place,
As his will rein'd the viewless Element,
He rode the Wind; the Genii rear'd his temple,
And ceaselessly in fear while his dread eye
O'erlook'd them, day and night pursued them
So dreadful was his power.
THALABA .
But 'twas from Heaven
His wisdom came; God's special gift, — the guerden
Of early virtue
LABABA .
Learn thou, O young man.
God hath appointed wisdom the reward
Of study! 'Tis a well of living waters,
Whose inexhaustible bounties all might drink,
But few dig deep enough. Son! thou art Silent, —
Perhaps I say too much, — perhaps offend thee.
THALABA .
Nay, I am young, and willingly, as becomes me
Hear the wise words of age.
LABABA .
Is it a crime
To mount the Horse, because, forsooth, thy feel
Can serve thee for the journey? — Is it sin,
Because the Hern soars upward in the sky
Above the arrow's flight, to train the Falcon
Whose beak shall pierce him there? The powers which Allah
Granted to man, were granted for his use
All knowledge that befits not human weakness
Is placed beyond its reach. — They who repair
To Babylon, and from the Angels learn
Mysterious wisdom, sin not in the deed.
THALABA .
Know you these secrets?
LOBABA .
I? alas! my Son,
My age just knows enough to understand
How little all its knowledge! Later years,
Sacred to study, teach me to regret
Youth's unforeseeing indolence, and hours
That cannot be recall'd! Something I know
The properties of herbs, and have sometimes
Brought to the afflicted comfort and relief
By the secrets of my art; under His blessing
Without whom all had fail'd! Also of Gems
I have some knowledge, and the characters
That tell beneath what aspect they were set.
THALABA .
Belike you can interpret then the graving
Around this Ring!
LABABA .
My sight is feeble, Son,
And I must view it closer; let me try!
16.
The unsuspecting Youth
Held forth his finger to draw off the spell.
Even whilst he held it forth,
There settled there a Wasp,
And just above the Gem infix'd its dart.
All purple-swollen, the hot and painful flesh
Rose round the tighten'd Ring.
The baffled Sorcerer knew the hand of Heaven,
And inwardly blasphemed.
17.
Ere long, Lobaba's heart,
Fruitful in wiles, devised new stratagem.
A mist arose at noon,
Like the loose, hanging skirts
Of some low cloud, that, by the breeze impell'd,
Sweeps o'er the mountain side.
With joy the thoughtless youth
That grateful shadowing hail'd;
For grateful was the shade,
While through the silver-lighted haze,
Guiding their way, appear'd the beamless Sun.
But soon that beacon fail'd;
A heavier mass of cloud,
Impenetrably deep,
Hung o'er the wilderness.
" Knowest thou the track? " quoth Thalaba,
" Or should we pause, and wait the wind
To scatter this bewildering fog?"
The Sorcerer answer'd him —
" Now let us hold right on; for if we stray,
The Sun to-morrow will direct our course. "
So saying, he toward the desert depths
Misleads the youth deceived.
18.
Earlier the night came on,
Nor moon, nor stars, were visible in heaven;
And when at morn the youth unclosed his eyes,
He knew not where to turn his face in prayer.
" What shall we do? " Lobaba cried;
" The lights of heaven have ceased
To guide us on our way.
Should we remain and wait
More favorable skies,
Soon would our food and water fail us here;
And if we venture on,
There are the dangers of the wilderness! "
19.
" Sure it were best proceed! "
The chosen youth replies;
" So haply we may reach some tent, or grove
Of dates, or station'd tribe.
But idly to remain,
Were yielding effortless, and waiting death. "
The wily sorcerer willingly assents,
And farther in the sands,
Elate of heart, he leads the credulous youth.
20.
Still o'er the wilderness
Settled the moveless mist.
The timid Antelope, that heard their steps,
Stood doubtful where to turn in that dim light;
The Ostrich, blindly hastening, met them full.
At night, again in hope,
Young Thalaba lay down;
The morning came, and not one guiding ray
Through the thick mist was visible,
The same deep moveless mist that mantled all.
21.
Oh for the Vulture's scream,
Who haunts for prey the abode of human-kind
Oh for the Plover's pleasant cry
To tell of water near!
Oh for the Camel-driver's song!
For now the water-skin grows light,
Though of the draught, more eagerly desired,
Imperious prudence took with sparing thirst.
Oft from the third night's broken sleep,
As in his dreams he heard
The sound of rushing winds,
Started the anxious youth, and look'd abroad
In vain! for still the deadly calm endured.
Another day pass'd on;
The water-skin was drain'd;
But then one hope arrived,
For there was motion in the air!
The sound of the wind arose anon,
That scatter'd the thick mist,
And lo! at length the lovely face of Heaven!
22.
Alas! a wretched scene
Was open'd on their view.
They look'd around; no wells were near,
No tent, no human aid!
Flat on the Camel lay the water-skin,
And their dumb servant difficulty now,
Over hot sands and under the hot sun,
Dragg'd on with patient pain
23.
But, oh, the joy! the blessed sight!
When in that burning waste the Travellers
Saw a green meadow, fair with flowers besprent,
Azure and yellow, like the beautiful fields
Of England, when amid the growing grass
The blue-bell bends, the golden king-cup shines,
And the sweet cowslip scents the genial air,
In the merry month of May!
Oh, joy! the Travellers
Gaze on each other with hope-brighten'd eyes,
For sure through that green meadow flows
The living stream! And lo! their famish'd beast
Sees the restoring sight!
Hope gives his feeble limbs a sudden strength;
He hurries on! —
24.
The herbs so fair to eye
Were Senna, and the Gentian's blossom blue,
And kindred plants, that with unwater'd root
Fed in the burning sand, whose bitter leaves
Even frantic Famine loathed.
25.
In uncommunicating misery
Silent they stood. At length Lobaba said,
" Son, we must slay the Camel, or we die
For lack of water! thy young hand is firm, —
Draw forth the knife and pierce him! " Wretch accurst!
Who that beheld thy venerable face,
Thy features stiff with suffering, the dry lips,
The feverish eyes, could deem that all within
Was magic ease, and fearlessness secure,
And wiles of hellish import? The young man
Paused with reluctant pity; but he saw
His comrade's red and painful countenance,
And his own burning breath came short and quick,
And at his feet the grasping beast
Lies, over-worn with want.
26.
Then from his girdle Thalaba took the knife
With stern compassion, and from side to side
Across the Camel's throat
Drew deep the crooked blade.
Servant of man, that merciful deed
Forever ends thy suffering; but what doom
Waits thy deliverer? " Little will thy death
Avail us! " thought the youth,
As in the water-skin he pour'd
The Camel's hoarded draught;
It gave a scant supply,
The poor allowance of one prudent day.
27.
Son of Hodeirah, though thy steady soul
Despair'd not, firm in faith,
Yet not the less did suffering nature feel
Its pangs and trials. Long their craving thirst
Struggled with fear, by fear itself inflamed;
But drop by drop, that poor,
That last supply is drain'd.
Still the same burning sun! no cloud in heaven!
The hot air quivers, and the sultry mist
Floats o'er the desert, with a show
Of distant waters, mocking their distress.
28.
The youth's parch'd lips were black,
His tongue was dry and rough,
His eyeballs red with heat.
Lobaba gazed on him with looks
That seem'd to speak of pity, and he said,
" Let me behold thy Ring;
It may have virtue that can save us yet! "
With that he took his hand,
And view'd the writing close,
Then cried with sudden joy,
" It is a stone that whoso bears,
The Genii must obey!
Now raise thy voice, my Son,
And bid them in His name that here is written
Preserve us in our need. "
29.
" Nay! " answer'd Thalaba;
" Shall I distrust the providence of God?
Is it not He must save?
If Allah wills it not,
Vain were the Genii's aid. "
30.
Whilst he spake, Lobaba's eye,
Upon the distance fix'd,
Attended not his speech.
Its fearful meaning drew
The looks of Thalaba;
Columns of sand came moving on;
Red in the burning ray,
Like obelisks of fire,
They rush'd before the driving wind.
Vain were all thoughts of flight!
They had not hoped escape,
Could they have back'd the Dromedary then,
Who, in his rapid race,
Gives to the tranquil air a drowning force.
31.
High — high in heaven upcurl'd
The dreadful sand-spouts moved;
Swift as the whirlwind that impell'd their way,
They came toward the travellers!
The old Magician shriek'd,
And lo! the foremost bursts,
Before the whirlwind's force,
Scattering afar a burning shower of sand.
" Now by the virtue of the Ring,
Save us! " Lobaba cried,
" While yet thou hast the power,
Save us! O save us! now! "
The youth made no reply,
Gazing in awful wonder on the scene.
32.
" Why dost thou wait? " the Old Man exclaim'd
" If Allah and the Prophet will not save,
Call on the Powers that will "
33.
" Ha! do I know thee, Infidel accurst?
Exclaim'd the awaken'd youth.
" And thou hast led me hither, Child of Sin!
That fear might make me sell
My soul to endless death! "
34.
" Fool that thou art! " Lobaba cried,
" Call upon Him whose name
Thy charmed signet bears,
Or die the death thy foolishness deserves! "
35.
" Servant of Hell! die thou! " Quoth Thalaba.
And leaning on his bow,
He fitted the loose string,
And laid the arrow in its resting-place.
" Bow of my Father, do thy duty now! "
He drew the arrow to its point;
True to his eye it fled,
And full upon the breast
It smote the Sorcerer.
Astonish'd Thalaba beheld
The blunted point recoil.
36.
A proud and bitter smile
Wrinkled Lobaba's cheek.
" Try once again thine earthly arms! " he cried.
" Rash Boy! the Power I serve
Abandons not his votaries.
It is for Allah's wretched slaves, like thou,
To serve a master, who in the hour of need
Forsakes them to their fate!
I leave thee! " — and he shook his staff, and call'd
The Chariot of his charms.
37.
Swift as the viewless wind,
Self-moved, the Chariot came;
The Sorcerer mounts the seat.
" Yet once more weigh thy danger! " he resumed;
" Ascend the car with me,
And with the speed of thought
We pass the desert bounds. "
The indignant youth vouchsafed not to reply;
And lo! the magic car begins its course!
38.
Hark! hark! — he shrieks — Lobaba shrieks!
What, wretch, and hast thou raised
The rushing terrors of the Wilderness
To fall on thine own head?
Death! death! inevitable death!
Driven by the breath of God,
A column of the Desert met his way.
Whose is yon dawning form,
That in the darkness meets
The delegated youth?
Dim as the shadow of a fire at noon,
Or pale reflection, on the evening brook,
Of glow-worm on the bank,
Kindled to guide her winged paramour.
2.
A moment, and the brightening image shaped
His Mother's form and features. " Go, " she cried,
To Babylon, and from the Angels learn
What talisman thy task requires. "
3.
The Spirit hung toward him when she ceased,
As though with actual lips she would have given
A mother's kiss. His arms outstretch'd,
His body bending on,
His mouth unclosed and trembling into speech,
He press'd to meet the blessing; but the wind
Play'd on his cheek: he look'd, and he beheld
The darkness close. " Again! again! " he cried,
" Let me again behold thee! " from the darkness
His Mother's voice went forth —
" Thou shalt behold me in the hour of death. "
4.
Day dawns, the twilight gleam dilates,
The Sun comes forth, and like a god
Rides through rejoicing heaven.
Old Moath and his daughter, from their tent,
Beheld the adventurous youth,
Dark-moving o'er the sands,
A lessening image, trembling through their tears
Visions of high emprise
Beguiled his lonely road;
And if sometimes to Moath's tent
The involuntary mind recurr'd,
Fancy, impatient of all painful thoughts,
Pictured the bliss should welcome his return.
In dreams like these he went;
And still of every dream
Oneiza form'd a part,
And hope and memory made a mingled joy.
5.
In the eve he arrived at a Well;
An Acacia bent over its side,
Under whose long light-hanging boughs
He chose his night's abode.
There, due ablutions made, and prayers perform'd,
The youth his mantle spread,
And silently produced
His solitary meal.
The silence and the solitude recall'd
Dear recollections; and with folded arms,
Thinking of other days, he sate, till thought
Had left him, and the Acacia's moving shade
Upon the sunny sand
Had caught his idle eye;
And his awaken'd ear
Heard the gray Lizard's chirp,
The only sound of life.
6.
As thus in vacant quietness he sate,
A Traveller on a Camel reach'd the Well,
And courteous greeting gave.
The mutual salutation past,
He by the cistern, too, his garment spread,
And friendly converse cheer'd the social meal.
7.
The Stranger was an ancient man,
Yet one whose green old age
Bore the fair characters of temperate youth:
So much of manhood's strength his limbs retain'd,
It seem'd he needed not the staff he bore.
His beard was long, and gray, and crisp;
Lively his eyes, and quick,
And reaching over them
The large broad eyebrow curl'd.
His speech was copious, and his winning words
Enrich'd with knowledge, that the attentive youth
Sate listening with a thirsty joy.
8.
So, in the course of talk,
The adventurer youth inquir'd
Whither his course was bent.
The Old Man answered, " To Bagdad I go
At that so welcome sound, a flash of joy
Kindled the eye of Thalaba;
" And I too, " he replied,
" Am journeying thitherward;
Let me become companion of thy way! "
Courteous the Old Man smiled,
And willing in assent.
9.
OLD MAN .
Son, thou art young for travel.
THALABA .
Until now
I never past the desert boundary.
OLD MAN .
It is a noble city that we seek.
Thou wilt behold magnificent Palaces,
And lofty Minarets, and high-domed Mosques,
And rich Bazars, whither from all the world
Industrious merchants meet, and market there
The world's collected wealth.
THALABA .
Stands not Bagdad
Near to the site of ancient Babylon,
And Nimrod's impious temple?
OLD MAN .
From the walls
'Tis but a long day's distance
THALABA .
And the ruins
OLD MAN .
A mighty mass remains; enough to tell us
How great our fathers were, how little we.
Men are not what they were; their crimes and follies
Have dwarf'd them down from the old hero race
To such poor things as we
THALABA .
At Babylon
I have heard the Angels expiate their guilt,
Haruth and Maruth.
OLD MAN .
'Tis a history
Handed from ages down; a nurse's tale,
Which children, open-eyed and mouth'd, devour;
And thus, as garrulous Ignorance relates,
We learn it and believe. But all things feel
The power of Time and Change; thistles and grass
Usurp the desolate palace, and the weeds
Of Falsehood root in the aged pile of Truth.
How have you heard the tale?
THALABA
Thus: — on a time
The Angels at the wickedness of man
Express'd indignant wonder; that in vain
Tokens and signs were given, and Prophets sent.
Strange obstinacy this! a stubbornness
Of sin, they said, that should forever bar
The gates of mercy on them. Allah heard
Their unforgiving pride, and bade that two
Of these untempted Spirits should descend
Judges on Earth. Haruth and Maruth went
The chosen Sentencers; they fairly heard
The appeals of men to their tribunal brought
And rightfully decided. At the length
A Woman came before them; beautiful
Zohara was, as yonder Evening Star,
In the mild lustre of whose lovely light.
Even now her beauty shines. They gazed on him
With fleshly eyes; they tempted her to sin
The wily woman listen'd, and required
A previous price, the knowledge of the name
Of God. She learnt the wonder-working name.
And gave it utterance, and its virtue bore her
Up to the glorious Presence, and she told
Before the awful Judgment-Seat her tale.
OLD MAN .
I know the rest. The accused Spirits were call
Unable of defence, and penitent,
They own'd their crime, and heard the doom deserved.
Then they besought the Lord that not forever
His wrath might be upon them, and implored
That penal ages might at length restore them
Clean from offence: since then by Babylon,
In the cavern of their punishment, they dwell
Runs the conclusion so?
THALABA .
So I am taught.
OLD MAN .
The common tale! And likely thou hast heard
How that the bold and bad, with impious rites,
Intrude upon their penitence, and force,
Albeit from loathing and reluctant lips,
The sorcery-secret?
THALABA .
Is it not the truth?
OLD MAN .
Son, thou hast seen the Traveller in the sands
Move through the dizzy light of hot noon-day
Huge as the giant race of elder times;
And his Camel, than the monstrous Elephant
Seem of a vaster bulk.
THALABA .
A frequent sight.
OLD MAN .
And hast thou never, in the twilight, fancied
Familiar object into some strange shape
And form uncouth?
THALABA .
Ay! many a time.
OLD MAN .
Even so
Things view'd at distance, through the mist of
By their distortion terrify and shock
The abused sight.
THALABA .
But of these Angels' fate
Thus in the uncreated book is written.
OLD MAN .
Wisely from legendary fables Heaven
Inculcates wisdom.
THALABA .
How then is the truth?
Is not the dungeon of their punishment
By ruin'd Babylon?
OLD MAN .
By Babylon
Haruth and Maruth may be found.
THALABA .
And there
Magicians learn their impious sorcery?
OLD MAN .
Son, what thou say'st is true, and it is false.
But night approaches fast; I have travell'd far,
And my old lids are heavy; — on our way
e shall have hours for converse; — let us now
Turn to our due repose. Son, peace be with thee!
10.
So in his loosen'd cloak
The Old Man wrapt himself,
And laid his limbs at length;
And Thalaba in silence laid him down.
A while he lay, and watch'd the lovely Moon,
O'er whose broad orb the boughs
A mazy fretting framed,
Or with a pale, transparent green
Lighting the restless leaves,
The thin Acacia leaves that play'd above.
The murmuring wind, the moving leaves,
Soothed him at length to sleep,
With mingled lullabies of sight and sound.
11.
Not so the dark Magician by his side,
Lobaba, who from the Domdaniel caves
Had sought the dreaded youth.
Silent he lay, and simulating sleep,
Till, by the long and regular breath he knew,
The youth beside him slept.
Carefully then he rose,
And bending over him, survey'd him near;
And secretly he cursed
The dead Abdaldar's ring,
Arm'd by whose amulet
He slept from danger safe
12.
Wrapt in his mantle Thalaba reposed,
His loose right arm pillowing his easy head.
The Moon was on the Ring,
Whose crystal gem return'd
A quiet, moveless light.
Vainly the Wizard vile put forth his hand,
And strove to reach the gem;
Charms, strong as hell could make them, kept it safe.
He call'd his servant-fiends,
He bade the Genii rob the sleeping youth
By the virtue of the Ring,
By Mahommed's holier power,
By the holiest name of God,
Had Thalaba disarm'd the evil race
13.
Baffled and weary, and convinced at length,
Anger, and fear, and rancor gnawing him,
The accursed Sorcerer ceased his vain attempts,
Content perforce to wait
Temptation's likelier aid.
Restless he lay, and brooding many a wile,
And tortured with impatient hope,
And envying with the bitterness of hate.
The innocent youth, who slept so sweetly by
14.
The ray of morning on his eyelids fell,
And Thalaba awoke,
And folded his mantle around him,
And girded his loins for the day;
Then the due rites of holiness observed.
His comrade too arose,
And with the outward forms
Of righteousness and prayer insulted God.
They fill'd their water skin, they gave
The Camel his full draught.
Then on the road, while yet the morn was young,
And the air was fresh with dew,
Forward the travellers went,
With various talk beguiling the long way.
But soon the youth, whose busy mind
Dwelt on Lobaba's wonder-stirring words,
Renew'd the unfinish'd converse of the night
15.
Thou said'st that it is true, and yet is false,
That men accurst attain at Babylon
Forbidden knowledge from the Angel pair: —
How mean you?
LOBAB
All things have a double power,
Alike for good and evil. The same fire
That on the comfortable hearth at eve
Warm'd the good man, flames o'er the house at night;
Should we for this forego
The needful element?
Because the scorching summer Sun
Darts fever, wouldst thou quench the orb of day?
Or deemest thou that Heaven in anger form'd
Iron to till the field, because when man.
Had tipt his arrows for the chase, he rush'd
A murderer to the war?
THALABA .
What follows hence?
LOBABA .
That nothing in itself is good or evil,
But only in its use. Think you the man
Praiseworthy, who by painful study learns
The knowledge of all simples, and their power,
Healing or harmful?
THALABA .
All men hold in honor
The skilful Leech. From land to land he goes
Safe in his privilege; the sword of war
Spares him; Kings welcome him with costly gifts;
And he who late had from the couch of pain
Lifted a languid look to him for aid,
Beholds him with glad eyes, and blesses him
In his first thankful prayer
LOBABA .
Yet some there are
Who to the purposes of wickedness
Apply this knowledge, and from herbs distil
Poison, to mix it in the trusted draught.
THALABA .
Allah shall cast them in the eternal fire
Whose fuel is the cursed! there shall they
Endure the ever-burning agony,
Consuming still in flames, and still renew'd.
LOBABA .
But is their knowledge therefore in itself
Unlawful?
THALABA .
That were foolishness to think.
LOBABA .
Oh, what a glorious animal were Man,
Knew he but his own powers, and knowing, gave them
Room for their growth and spread! The Horse obeys
His guiding will; the patient Camel bears him
Over these wastes of sand; the Pigeon wafts
His bidding through the sky; — and with these triumphs
He rests contented! — with these ministers, —
When he might awe the Elements, and make
Myriads of Spirits serve him!
THALABA .
But as how?
By a league with Hell, a covenant that binds
The soul to utter death!
LOBABA .
Was Solomon
Accurst of God? Yet to his talismans
Obedient, o'er his thro e the birds of Heaven,
Their waving wings his in-shield, fann'd around him
The motionless air of noon; from place to place,
As his will rein'd the viewless Element,
He rode the Wind; the Genii rear'd his temple,
And ceaselessly in fear while his dread eye
O'erlook'd them, day and night pursued them
So dreadful was his power.
THALABA .
But 'twas from Heaven
His wisdom came; God's special gift, — the guerden
Of early virtue
LABABA .
Learn thou, O young man.
God hath appointed wisdom the reward
Of study! 'Tis a well of living waters,
Whose inexhaustible bounties all might drink,
But few dig deep enough. Son! thou art Silent, —
Perhaps I say too much, — perhaps offend thee.
THALABA .
Nay, I am young, and willingly, as becomes me
Hear the wise words of age.
LABABA .
Is it a crime
To mount the Horse, because, forsooth, thy feel
Can serve thee for the journey? — Is it sin,
Because the Hern soars upward in the sky
Above the arrow's flight, to train the Falcon
Whose beak shall pierce him there? The powers which Allah
Granted to man, were granted for his use
All knowledge that befits not human weakness
Is placed beyond its reach. — They who repair
To Babylon, and from the Angels learn
Mysterious wisdom, sin not in the deed.
THALABA .
Know you these secrets?
LOBABA .
I? alas! my Son,
My age just knows enough to understand
How little all its knowledge! Later years,
Sacred to study, teach me to regret
Youth's unforeseeing indolence, and hours
That cannot be recall'd! Something I know
The properties of herbs, and have sometimes
Brought to the afflicted comfort and relief
By the secrets of my art; under His blessing
Without whom all had fail'd! Also of Gems
I have some knowledge, and the characters
That tell beneath what aspect they were set.
THALABA .
Belike you can interpret then the graving
Around this Ring!
LABABA .
My sight is feeble, Son,
And I must view it closer; let me try!
16.
The unsuspecting Youth
Held forth his finger to draw off the spell.
Even whilst he held it forth,
There settled there a Wasp,
And just above the Gem infix'd its dart.
All purple-swollen, the hot and painful flesh
Rose round the tighten'd Ring.
The baffled Sorcerer knew the hand of Heaven,
And inwardly blasphemed.
17.
Ere long, Lobaba's heart,
Fruitful in wiles, devised new stratagem.
A mist arose at noon,
Like the loose, hanging skirts
Of some low cloud, that, by the breeze impell'd,
Sweeps o'er the mountain side.
With joy the thoughtless youth
That grateful shadowing hail'd;
For grateful was the shade,
While through the silver-lighted haze,
Guiding their way, appear'd the beamless Sun.
But soon that beacon fail'd;
A heavier mass of cloud,
Impenetrably deep,
Hung o'er the wilderness.
" Knowest thou the track? " quoth Thalaba,
" Or should we pause, and wait the wind
To scatter this bewildering fog?"
The Sorcerer answer'd him —
" Now let us hold right on; for if we stray,
The Sun to-morrow will direct our course. "
So saying, he toward the desert depths
Misleads the youth deceived.
18.
Earlier the night came on,
Nor moon, nor stars, were visible in heaven;
And when at morn the youth unclosed his eyes,
He knew not where to turn his face in prayer.
" What shall we do? " Lobaba cried;
" The lights of heaven have ceased
To guide us on our way.
Should we remain and wait
More favorable skies,
Soon would our food and water fail us here;
And if we venture on,
There are the dangers of the wilderness! "
19.
" Sure it were best proceed! "
The chosen youth replies;
" So haply we may reach some tent, or grove
Of dates, or station'd tribe.
But idly to remain,
Were yielding effortless, and waiting death. "
The wily sorcerer willingly assents,
And farther in the sands,
Elate of heart, he leads the credulous youth.
20.
Still o'er the wilderness
Settled the moveless mist.
The timid Antelope, that heard their steps,
Stood doubtful where to turn in that dim light;
The Ostrich, blindly hastening, met them full.
At night, again in hope,
Young Thalaba lay down;
The morning came, and not one guiding ray
Through the thick mist was visible,
The same deep moveless mist that mantled all.
21.
Oh for the Vulture's scream,
Who haunts for prey the abode of human-kind
Oh for the Plover's pleasant cry
To tell of water near!
Oh for the Camel-driver's song!
For now the water-skin grows light,
Though of the draught, more eagerly desired,
Imperious prudence took with sparing thirst.
Oft from the third night's broken sleep,
As in his dreams he heard
The sound of rushing winds,
Started the anxious youth, and look'd abroad
In vain! for still the deadly calm endured.
Another day pass'd on;
The water-skin was drain'd;
But then one hope arrived,
For there was motion in the air!
The sound of the wind arose anon,
That scatter'd the thick mist,
And lo! at length the lovely face of Heaven!
22.
Alas! a wretched scene
Was open'd on their view.
They look'd around; no wells were near,
No tent, no human aid!
Flat on the Camel lay the water-skin,
And their dumb servant difficulty now,
Over hot sands and under the hot sun,
Dragg'd on with patient pain
23.
But, oh, the joy! the blessed sight!
When in that burning waste the Travellers
Saw a green meadow, fair with flowers besprent,
Azure and yellow, like the beautiful fields
Of England, when amid the growing grass
The blue-bell bends, the golden king-cup shines,
And the sweet cowslip scents the genial air,
In the merry month of May!
Oh, joy! the Travellers
Gaze on each other with hope-brighten'd eyes,
For sure through that green meadow flows
The living stream! And lo! their famish'd beast
Sees the restoring sight!
Hope gives his feeble limbs a sudden strength;
He hurries on! —
24.
The herbs so fair to eye
Were Senna, and the Gentian's blossom blue,
And kindred plants, that with unwater'd root
Fed in the burning sand, whose bitter leaves
Even frantic Famine loathed.
25.
In uncommunicating misery
Silent they stood. At length Lobaba said,
" Son, we must slay the Camel, or we die
For lack of water! thy young hand is firm, —
Draw forth the knife and pierce him! " Wretch accurst!
Who that beheld thy venerable face,
Thy features stiff with suffering, the dry lips,
The feverish eyes, could deem that all within
Was magic ease, and fearlessness secure,
And wiles of hellish import? The young man
Paused with reluctant pity; but he saw
His comrade's red and painful countenance,
And his own burning breath came short and quick,
And at his feet the grasping beast
Lies, over-worn with want.
26.
Then from his girdle Thalaba took the knife
With stern compassion, and from side to side
Across the Camel's throat
Drew deep the crooked blade.
Servant of man, that merciful deed
Forever ends thy suffering; but what doom
Waits thy deliverer? " Little will thy death
Avail us! " thought the youth,
As in the water-skin he pour'd
The Camel's hoarded draught;
It gave a scant supply,
The poor allowance of one prudent day.
27.
Son of Hodeirah, though thy steady soul
Despair'd not, firm in faith,
Yet not the less did suffering nature feel
Its pangs and trials. Long their craving thirst
Struggled with fear, by fear itself inflamed;
But drop by drop, that poor,
That last supply is drain'd.
Still the same burning sun! no cloud in heaven!
The hot air quivers, and the sultry mist
Floats o'er the desert, with a show
Of distant waters, mocking their distress.
28.
The youth's parch'd lips were black,
His tongue was dry and rough,
His eyeballs red with heat.
Lobaba gazed on him with looks
That seem'd to speak of pity, and he said,
" Let me behold thy Ring;
It may have virtue that can save us yet! "
With that he took his hand,
And view'd the writing close,
Then cried with sudden joy,
" It is a stone that whoso bears,
The Genii must obey!
Now raise thy voice, my Son,
And bid them in His name that here is written
Preserve us in our need. "
29.
" Nay! " answer'd Thalaba;
" Shall I distrust the providence of God?
Is it not He must save?
If Allah wills it not,
Vain were the Genii's aid. "
30.
Whilst he spake, Lobaba's eye,
Upon the distance fix'd,
Attended not his speech.
Its fearful meaning drew
The looks of Thalaba;
Columns of sand came moving on;
Red in the burning ray,
Like obelisks of fire,
They rush'd before the driving wind.
Vain were all thoughts of flight!
They had not hoped escape,
Could they have back'd the Dromedary then,
Who, in his rapid race,
Gives to the tranquil air a drowning force.
31.
High — high in heaven upcurl'd
The dreadful sand-spouts moved;
Swift as the whirlwind that impell'd their way,
They came toward the travellers!
The old Magician shriek'd,
And lo! the foremost bursts,
Before the whirlwind's force,
Scattering afar a burning shower of sand.
" Now by the virtue of the Ring,
Save us! " Lobaba cried,
" While yet thou hast the power,
Save us! O save us! now! "
The youth made no reply,
Gazing in awful wonder on the scene.
32.
" Why dost thou wait? " the Old Man exclaim'd
" If Allah and the Prophet will not save,
Call on the Powers that will "
33.
" Ha! do I know thee, Infidel accurst?
Exclaim'd the awaken'd youth.
" And thou hast led me hither, Child of Sin!
That fear might make me sell
My soul to endless death! "
34.
" Fool that thou art! " Lobaba cried,
" Call upon Him whose name
Thy charmed signet bears,
Or die the death thy foolishness deserves! "
35.
" Servant of Hell! die thou! " Quoth Thalaba.
And leaning on his bow,
He fitted the loose string,
And laid the arrow in its resting-place.
" Bow of my Father, do thy duty now! "
He drew the arrow to its point;
True to his eye it fled,
And full upon the breast
It smote the Sorcerer.
Astonish'd Thalaba beheld
The blunted point recoil.
36.
A proud and bitter smile
Wrinkled Lobaba's cheek.
" Try once again thine earthly arms! " he cried.
" Rash Boy! the Power I serve
Abandons not his votaries.
It is for Allah's wretched slaves, like thou,
To serve a master, who in the hour of need
Forsakes them to their fate!
I leave thee! " — and he shook his staff, and call'd
The Chariot of his charms.
37.
Swift as the viewless wind,
Self-moved, the Chariot came;
The Sorcerer mounts the seat.
" Yet once more weigh thy danger! " he resumed;
" Ascend the car with me,
And with the speed of thought
We pass the desert bounds. "
The indignant youth vouchsafed not to reply;
And lo! the magic car begins its course!
38.
Hark! hark! — he shrieks — Lobaba shrieks!
What, wretch, and hast thou raised
The rushing terrors of the Wilderness
To fall on thine own head?
Death! death! inevitable death!
Driven by the breath of God,
A column of the Desert met his way.
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