Yes--such the spells shall haunt his eye, his ear,
Mix wild his night-dreams, form his atmosphere;
Till, if our Sage be not tamed down, at length,
His wit, his wisdom, shorn of all their strength,
Like Phrygian priests, in honor of the shrine--
If he become not absolutely mine,
Body and soul and like the tame decoy
Which wary hunters of wild doves employ
Draw converts also, lure his brother wits
To the dark cage where his own spirit flits.
And give us if not saints good hypocrites--
If I effect not this then be it said
The ancient spirit of our craft hath fled,
Gone with that serpent-god the Cross hath chased
To hiss its soul out in the Theban waste.
[1] For the trinkets with which the sacred Crocodiles were ornamented see
the "Epicurean" chap x.
[2] Pythagoras.
LALLA ROOKH
TO
SAMUEL ROGERS, ESQ.
THIS EASTERN ROMANCE
IS INSCRIBED
BY
HIS VERY GRATEFUL AND AFFECTIONATE FRIEND,
THOMAS MOORE.
LALLA ROOKH
In the eleventh year of the reign of Aurungzebe, Abdalla, King of the
Lesser Bucharia, a lineal descendant from the Great Zingis, having
abdicated the throne in favor of his son, set out on a pilgrimage to the
Shrine of the Prophet; and, passing into India through the delightful
valley of Cashmere, rested for a short time at Delhi on his way.
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