And lo! beneath yon lonely pine, the sledge....
And there they stand the harnessed Dogs,
Their wide eyes watching for the youth,
Their ears erected turned towards his way.
They were lean as lean might be,
Their furrowed ribs rose prominent,
And they were black from head to foot,
Save a white line on every breast
Curved like the crescent moon.
And he is seated in the sledge,
His arms are folded on his breast,
The bird is on his knees;
There is fear in the eyes of the Dogs,
There is fear in their pitiful moan,
And now they turn their heads,
And seeing him there, Away!
The Youth with the start of their speed
Falls back to the bar of the sledge,
His hair floats straight in the stream of the wind
Like the weeds in the running brook.
They wind with speed the upward way,
An icey path thro’ rocks of ice,
His eye is at the summit now,
And thus far all is dangerless,
And now upon the height
The black Dogs pause and pant,
They turn their eyes to Thalaba
As if to plead for pity,
They moan and moan with fear.
Once more away! and now
The long descent is seen,
A long, long, narrow path.
Ice-rocks aright and hills of snow,
Aleft the giddy precipice.
Be firm, be firm, O Thalaba!
One motion now, one bend,
And on the crags below
Thy shattered flesh will harden in the frost.
Why howl the Dogs so mournfully?
And wherefore does the blood flow fast
All purple o’er their sable hair?
His arms are folded on his breast,
Nor scourge nor goad has he,
No hand appears to strike,
No sounding lash is heard:
But piteously they moan and moan
And track their way with blood.
And lo! on yonder height
A giant Fiend aloft
Waits to thrust down the tottering Avalanche!
If Thalaba looks back he dies,
The motion of fear is death.
On ... on ... with swift and steady pace
Adown that dreadful way!
The youth is firm, the Dogs are fleet,
The Sledge goes rapidly,
The thunder of the avalanche
Re-echoes far behind.
On ... on ... with swift and steady pace
Adown that dreadful way!
The Dogs are fleet, the way is steep
The Sledge goes rapidly,
They reach the plain below.
A wide, wide plain, all desolate,
Nor tree, nor bush, nor herb!
On go the Dogs with rapid step,
The Sledge slides after rapidly,
And now the Sun went down.
They stopt and looked at Thalaba,
The Youth performed his prayer;
They knelt beside him as he prayed
They turned their heads to Mecca
And tears ran down their cheeks.
Then down they laid them in the snow
As close as they could lie,
They laid them down and slept.
And backward in the sledge
The Adventurer laid him down,
There peacefully slept Thalaba,
And the Green Bird of Paradise
Lay in his bosom warm.
The Dogs awoke him at the dawn,
They knelt and wept again;
Then rapidly they journeyed on,
And still the plain was desolate,
Nor tree, nor bush, nor herb!
And ever at the hour of prayer
They stopt, and knelt, and wept;
And still that green and graceful Bird
Was as a friend to him by day,
And ever when at night he slept
Lay in his bosom warm.
In that most utter solitude
It cheered his heart to hear
Her soft and soothing voice;
Her voice was soft and sweet,
It swelled not with the blackbird’s thrill,
Nor warbled rich like the dear bird, that holds
The solitary man
A loiterer in his thoughtful walk at eve;
But if no overflowing joy
Spake in its tones of tenderness
They soothed the softened soul.
Her bill was not the beak of blood;
There was a human meaning in her eye,
Its mild affection fixed on Thalaba
Woke wonder while he gazed
And made her dearer for the mystery.
Oh joy! the signs of life appear,
The first and single Fir
That on the limits of the living world
Strikes in the ice its roots.
Another, and another now;
And now the Larch that flings its arms
Down arching like the falling wave;
And now the Aspin’s scattered leaves
Grey glitter on the moveless twig;
The Poplar’s varying verdure now,
And now the Birch so beautiful,
Light as a Lady’s plumes.
Oh joy! the signs of life! the Deer
Hath left his slot beside the way;
The little Ermine now is seen
White wanderer of the snow;
And now from yonder pines they hear
The clatter of the Grouse’s wings:
And now the snowy Owl pursues
The Traveller’s sledge in hope of food;
And hark! the rosy-breasted bird
The Throstle of sweet song!
Joy! joy! the winter-wilds are left!
Green bushes now and greener grass,
Red thickets here all berry-bright,
And here the lovely flowers!
When the last morning of their way arrived,
After the early prayer,
The Green Bird fixed on Thalaba
A sad and supplicating eye,
And with a human voice she spake,
“Servant of God, I leave thee now.
“If rightly I have guided thee,
“Give me the boon I beg!”
“O gentle Bird,” quoth Thalaba,
“Guide and companion of my dangerous way,
“Friend and sole solace of my solitude,
“How can I pay thee benefits like these!
“Ask what thou wilt that I can give,
“O gentle Bird, the poor return
“Will leave me debtor still!”
“Son of Hodeirah!” she replied,
“When thou shalt see an Old Man crushed beneath
“The burthen of his earthly punishment,
“Forgive him, Thalaba!
“Yea, send a prayer to God on his behalf!”