LALLA
ROOKH alone--and Love knew why--persisted in being delighted with all she
had heard and in resolving to hear more as speedily as possible. Her
manner however of first returning to the subject was unlucky. It was while
they rested during the heat of noon near a fountain on which some hand had
rudely traced those well-known words from the Garden of Sadi.--"Many like
me have viewed this fountain, but they are gone and their eyes are closed
for ever!"--that she took occasion from the melancholy beauty of this
passage to dwell upon the charms of poetry in general. "It is true," she
said, "few poets can imitate that sublime bird which flies always in the
air and never touches the earth:[139]--it is only once in many ages a
Genius appears whose words, like those on the Written Mountain last for
ever:[140]--but still there are some as delightful perhaps, though not so
wonderful, who if not stars over our head are at least flowers along our
path and whose sweetness of the moment we ought gratefully to inhale
without calling upon them for a brightness and a durability beyond their
nature. In short," continued she, blushing as if conscious of being caught
in an oration, "it is quite cruel that a poet cannot wander through his
regions of enchantment without having a critic for ever, like the old Man
of the Sea, upon his back!"[141]--FADLADEEN, it was plain took this last
luckless allusion to himself and would treasure it up in his mind as a
whetstone for his next criticism.
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