The woe in which he spake,
The resignation that inspired his speech,
They softened Thalaba.
“Thou hast a solace in thy grief,” he cried,
“A comforter within!
“Moath! thou seest me here,
“Delivered to the Evil Powers,
“A God-abandoned wretch.”
The Old Man looked at him incredulous.
“Nightly,” the youth pursued,
“Thy daughter comes to drive me to despair.
“Moath thou thinkest me mad,...
“But when the Cryer[138] from the Minaret
“Proclaims the midnight hour,
“Hast thou a heart to see her?”
In the[139] 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 neighbouring 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 called on God.
A night of darkness and of storms!
Into the Chamber[140] of the Tomb
Thalaba led the Old Man,
To roof him from the rain.
A night of storms! the wind
Swept thro’ the moonless sky
And moaned among the pillared sepulchres.
And in the pauses of its sweep
They heard the heavy rain
Beat on the monument above.
In silence on Oneiza’s grave
The Father and the Husband sate.
The Cryer from the Minaret
Proclaimed 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 has abandoned thee?”
“This is not she!” the Old Man exclaimed,
“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 powers
Gazed fixedly upon the dreadful form.
“Yea! strike her!” cried a voice whose tones
Flowed with such sudden healing thro’ his soul,
As when the desert shower
From death delivered him.
But unobedient to that well-known voice
His eye was seeking it,
When Moath firm of heart,
Performed the bidding; thro’ the vampire[141] corpse
He thrust his lance; it fell,
And howling with the wound
Its demon tenant fled.
A sapphire light fell on them,
And garmented with glory, in their sight
Oneiza’s Spirit stood.
“O Thalaba!” she cried,
“Abandon not thyself!
“Wouldst thou for ever lose me?... go, fulfill
“Thy quest, that in the Bowers of Paradise
“In vain I may not wait thee, O my Husband!”
To Moath then the Spirit
Turned the dark lustre of her Angel 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
“Shall visit thee in peace.”
They stood with earnest eyes
And arms out-reaching, when again
The darkness closed around them.
The soul of Thalaba revived;
He from the floor the quiver took
And as he bent the bow, exclaimed,
“Was it the over-ruling Providence
“That in the hour of frenzy led my hands
“Instinctively to this?
“To-morrow, and the sun shall brace anew
“The slackened 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 dawned.
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 his last blessing.
It was eve,
When an old Dervise, sitting in the sun
At his 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 flowed
The brook of which they drank.
So as they sate at meal,
With song, with music, and with dance,
A wedding train went by;
The veiled 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 looked 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
Opened the young man’s heart
And he told all his tale.
“Repine not, O my Son!” the Old Man replied,
“That Heaven has chastened thee.
“Behold this vine,[142] I found it a wild tree
“Whose wanton strength had swoln into
“Irregular twigs, and bold excrescencies,
“And spent itself in leaves and little rings,
“In the vain flourish of its outwardness
“Wasting the sap and strength
“That should have given forth fruit.
“But when I pruned the Tree,
“Then it grew temperate in its vain expence
“Of useless leaves, and knotted, as thou seest,
“Into these full, clear, clusters, to repay
“The hand whose foresight wounded it.
“Repine not, O my Son!
“In wisdom and in mercy Heaven inflicts,
“Like a wise Leech, its painful remedies.”