Then pausing, “whither goest thou now?” he asked.
“I know not,” answered Thalaba,
“Straight on, with Destiny my guide.”
Quoth the Old Man, “I will not blame thy trust,
“And yet methinks thy feet
“Should tread with certainty.
“In Kaf the Simorg hath his dwelling place,
“The all-knowing Bird of Ages, who hath seen
“The World, with all her children, thrice destroyed.
“Long is the thither path,
“And difficult the way, of danger full;
“But his unerring voice
“Could point to certain end thy weary search.”
Easy assent the youth
Gave to the words of wisdom; and behold
At dawn, the adventurer on his way to Kaf.
And he has travelled many a day
And many a river swum over,
And many a mountain ridge has crost
And many a measureless plain,
And now amid the wilds advanced,
Long is it since his eyes
Have seen the trace of man.
Cold! cold! ’tis a chilly clime
That the toil of the youth has reached,
And he is aweary now,
And faint for the lack of food.
Cold! cold! there is no Sun in heaven
But a heavy and uniform cloud
And the snows begin 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 languid,
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!
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; no moon, no stars,
Only the light of the snow!
But behold a fire in the cave of the hill
A heart-reviving fire;
And thither with strength renewed
Thalaba presses on.
He found a Woman in the cave,
A solitary Woman,
Who by the fire was spinning
And singing as she spun.
The pine boughs they blazed chearfully
And her face was bright with the flame.
Her face was as a Damsel’s face
And yet her hair was grey.
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
And Thalaba knew not the words.
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 chearful fire
Revived his languid limbs,
The adventurer asked for food.
The Woman answered 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 she to the chase is gone
“And she will be here anon.”
She ceased from her work as she spake,
And when she had answered him,
Again her fingers twirled the thread
And again the Woman began
In low, sweet, tones to sing
The unintelligible song.
The thread she spun it gleamed like gold
In the light of the odorous fire,
And yet so wonderous thin,
That save when the light shone on it
It could not be seen by the eye.
The youth sate watching it,
And she beheld his wonder.
And then again she spake to him
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!”
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.”
Thalaba strove, but the thread
Was woven by magic hands,
And in his cheek the flush of shame
Arose, commixt with fear.
She beheld and laughed 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.”