It was impossible for LALLA ROOKH to refuse;--he had never before looked
half so animated, and when he spoke of the Holy Valley his eyes had
sparkled she thought like the talismanic characters on the scimitar of
Solomon. Her consent was therefore most readily granted; and while
FADLADEEN sat in unspeakable dismay, expecting treason and abomination in
every line, the poet thus began his story of the Fire-worshippers:
THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS.
'Tis moonlight over OMAN'S SEA;[192]
Her banks of pearl and palmy isles
Bask in the night-beam beauteously
And her blue waters sleep in smiles.
'Tis moonlight in HARMOZIA'S[193] walls,
And through her EMIR'S porphyry halls
Where some hours since was heard the swell
Of trumpets and the clash of zel[194]
Bidding the bright-eyed sun farewell;--
The peaceful sun whom better suits
The music of the bulbul's nest
Or the light touch of lovers' lutes
To sing him to his golden rest.
All husht--there's not a breeze in motion;
The shore is silent as the ocean.
If zephyrs come, so light they come.
Nor leaf is stirred nor wave is driven;--
The wind-tower on the EMIR'S dome[195]
Can hardly win a breath from heaven.
Even he, that tyrant Arab, sleeps
Calm, while a nation round him weeps,
While curses load the air he breathes
And falchions from unnumbered sheaths
Are starting to avenge the shame
His race hath brought on IRAN'S[196]name.
Pages:
756
757
758
759
760
761
762
763
764
765
766
767
768
769
770
771
772
773
774
775
776
777
778
779
780