THE NINTH BOOK.
“Go up, my Sister Maimuna,
“Go up, and read the stars!”
Lo! on the terrace of the topmost tower
She stands; her darkening eyes,
Her fine face raised to heaven,
Her white hair flowing like the silver streams
That streak the northern night.
They hear her coming tread,
They lift their asking eyes,
Her face is serious, her unwilling lips
Slow to the tale of ill.
“What hast thou read? what hast thou read?”
Quoth Khawla in alarm.
“Danger ... death ... judgement!” Maimuna replied.
“Is that the language of the lights of Heaven?”
Exclaimed the sterner Witch.
“Creatures of Allah, they perform his will.
“And with their lying menaces would daunt
“Our credulous folly.... Maimuna,
“I never liked this uncongenial lore!
“Better befits to make the sacrifice
“Of Divination; so shall I
“Be mine own Oracle.
“Command the victims thou, O King!
“Male and female they must be,
“Thou knowest the needful rites.
“Meanwhile I purify the place.”
The Sultan went; the Sorceress rose,
And North and South and East and West
She faced the points of Heaven,
And ever where she turned
She laid her hand upon the wall,
And up she looked and smote the air,
And down she stooped and smote the floor,
“To Eblis and his servants
“I consecrate the place,
“Let none intrude but they!
“Whatever hath the breath of life,
“Whatever hath the sap of life,
“Let it be blasted and die!”
Now all is prepared;
Mohareb returns,
The Circle is drawn,
The Victims have bled,
The Youth and the Maid.
She in the circle holds in either hand
Clenched by the hair, a head,
The heads of the Youth and the Maid.
“Go out ye lights!” quoth Khawla,
And in darkness began the spell.
With spreading arms she whirls around
Rapidly, rapidly
Ever around and around;
And loudly she calls the while
“Eblis! Eblis!”
Loudly, incessantly,
Still she calls “Eblis! Eblis!”
Giddily, giddily, still she whirls,
Loudly, incessantly, still she calls;
The motion is ever the same,
Ever around and around;
The calling is still the same
Still it is “Eblis! Eblis!”
And her voice is a shapeless yell,
And dizzily rolls her brain,
And now she is full of the Fiend.
She stops, she rocks, she reels!
Look! look! she appears in the darkness!
Her flamy hairs curl up
All living, like the Meteor’s locks of light!
Her eyes are like the sickly Moon!
It is her lips that move,
Her tongue that shapes the sound,
But whose is the Voice that proceeds?
“Ye may hope and ye may fear,
“The danger of his stars is near.
“Sultan! if he perish, woe!
“Fate has written one death-blow
“For Mohareb and the Foe?
“Triumph! triumph! only she
“That knit his bonds can set him free.”