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die away in the solitary darkness of And thought some spirit of the air reflection,

(For what could waft a mortal there?) We shall now endeavour, by ex

Was pausing on his moonlight way tracts, to give our readers some idea To listen to her lonely lay! of the execution of this fine Poem, This fancy ne'er hath left her mind;

And though, when terror's swoon had the subject of which, and the story,

past, is, we hope, clearly enough explained She saw a youth of mortal kind, by the foregoing analysis.

Before her in obeisance cast, We are thus introduced to Hinda, Yet often since, when he has spoken, the heroine of the tale, and we think Strange, awful wordsand gleams have

broken that, with the exception of the image of the serpent gazing on the emerald, From his dark eyes, too bright to bear which, in good truth, is but a sorry to some unhallowed child of air,

Oh! she hath fear'd her soul was given conceit, the description is most beauti

Some erring Spirit cast from heaven, ful.

Like those angelic youths of old, 6. Light as the angel shapes that bless Who burned for maids of mortal mould, An infant's dream, yet not the less,

Bewilder'd left the glorious skies, Rich in all woman's loveliness ;

And lost their heaven for woman's eyes ! With eyes so pure, that from their ray Fond girl! nor fiend, nor angel he, Dark Vice would turn abash'd away,

Who woos thy young simplicity ; Blinded like serpents, when they gaze

But one of earth's impassioned sons, Upon the emerald's virgin blaze!

As warm in love, as fierce in ire, Yet, fill’d with all youth's sweet desires,

As the best heart whose current runs Mingling the meek and vestal fires

Full of the Day-God's living fire !" Of other worlds with all the bliss,

There is infinite spirit, freedom, The fond, weak tenderness of this !

strength, and energy, in that part of A soul too, more than half divine, Where, through some shades of earthly lover to be a Gheber,-many fine and

the poem where Hinda discovers her feeling,

delicate touches of genuine pathos, Religion's soften'd glories shine, Like light through summer foliage steal- and many bursts of uncontrollable ing,

passion. As for example: Shedding a glow of such mild hue,

- Hold, hold—thy words are So warm and yet so shadowy too,

deathAs makes the very darkness there

The stranger cried, as wild he flung More beautiful than light elsewhere !"

His mantle back, and show'd beneath

The Gheber belt that round him clungA striking picture is conveyed in

• Here, maiden, look-weep_blush to see the following six lipes, of Hinda lis

All that thy sire abhors in me! tening the approach of her lover's YesI am of that impious race, skiff, from her airy tower :

Those Slaves of Fire, who, morn and even, 66 Ev'n now thou seest the flashing spray,

Hail their Creator's dwelling-place
That lights his oar's impatient way;

Among the living lights of heaven !
Ev'n now thou hear'st the sudden shock Yes--I am of that outcast few,
Of his swift bark against the rock,

To IRAN and to vengeance true,
And stretchest down thy arms of snow,

Who curse the hour your Arabs came
As if to lift him from below !”

To desolate our shrines of flame,
And swear,

before God's burning eye,
Her first interview with her lover,
and all her bewildering emotions, are

To break our country's chains, or die !

Thy bigot sirenay, tremble not thus described :

He, who gave birth to those dear eyes, • She loves--but knows not whom she loves, With me is sacred as the spot Nor what his race, nor whence he came ; From which our fires of worship rise ! Like one who meets, in Indian groves, But know-~'twas he I sought that night,

Some beauteous bird, without a name, When, from my watch-boat on the sea, Brought by the last ambrosial breeze I caught this turret's glimmering light, From isles in th' undiscover'd seas,

And up the rude rocks desperately To shew his plumage for a day

Rush'd to my prey--thou know'st the rest To wondering eyes, and wing away! I climb'd the gory vulture's nest, Will he thus fly-her nameless lover ? And found a trembling dove within ;~Alla forbid ! 'twas by a moon

Thine, thine the victory-thine the sinAs fair as this, while singing over

If Love has made one thought his own, Some ditty to her soft Kanoon,

That vengeance claims first-last-alone! Alone, at this same witching hour,

Oh ! had we never, never met, She first beheld his radiant eyes

Or could this heart ev'n now forget Gleam through the lattice of the bower, How link’d, how bless'd we might have been,

Where nightly now they mix their sighs; Had fate not frown'd so dark between!

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Hadst thou been born a Persian maid, His only talisman, the sword,

In neighbouring yalleys had we dwelt, His only spell-word, Liberty !
Thro' the same fields in childhood play'd, One of that ancient hero line,

At the same kindling altar knelt, Along whose glorious current shine
Then, then, while all those nameless ties, Names, that have sanctified their blood :
In which the charm of country lies,

As Lebanon's small mountain flood
Had round our hearts been hourly spun, Is render'd holy by the ranks
Till IRAN's cause and thine were one; Of sainted cedars on its banks !
While in thy lute's awakening sigh

'Twas not for him to crouch the knee I heard the voice of days gone by,

Tamely to Moslem tyranny ;And saw in every smile of thine

'Twas not for him, whose soul was cast Returning hours of glory shine !

In the bright mould of ages past,
While the wrong'd Spirit of our Land Whose melancholy spirit, fed
Liv'd, look'd, and spoke her wrongs With all the glories of the dead,
through thee,

Though fram'd for IRAN's happiest years,
God! who could then this sword withstand ? Was born among her chains and tears !
Its very flash were victory!

'Twas not for him to swell the crowd But now—-estrang’d, divorc'd for ever, Of slavish heads, that shrinking bowed Far as the grasp of Fate can sever ;

Before the Moslem as he pass'd, Our only ties what love has wove,

Like shrubs beneath the poison-blast Faith, friends, and country, sunder’d No_far he fed—indignant fled wide ;

The pageant of his country's shame; And then, then only, true to love,

While every tear her children shed When false to all that's dear beside ! Fell on his soul like drops of fame ; Thy father, IRAN's deadliest foe

And as a lover hails the dawn Thyself, .perhaps, ev'n now but no

Of a first smile, so welcom'd he Hate never look'd so lovely yet !

The sparkle of the first sword drawn No-sacred to thy soul will be

For Vengeance and for Liberty !" The land of him who could forget

The description of the Hold of the All but that bleeding land for thee !

Ghebers is vivid and picturesque : When other eyes shall see, unmoved,

Her widows mourn, her warriors fall, “ Around its base the bare rocks stood, Thou'lt think how well one Gheber lov'd, Like naked giants, in the flood,

And for his sake thou'lt weep for all ! As if to guard the Gulf across ;But look

While on its peak that brav'd the sky, With sudden start he turn'd A ruin'd temple tower’d, so high, And pointed to the distant wave,

That oft the sleeping albatross While lights, like charnel meteors, burn'd Struck the wild ruins with her wing,

Bluely, as o'er some seaman's grave ; And from her cloud-rock'd slumbering
And fiery darts, at intervals,

Started—to find man's dwelling there
Flew up all sparkling from the main, In her own silent fields of air !
As if each star, that nightly falls,

Beneath, terrific caverns gave Were shooting back to heaven again. Dark welcome to each stormy wave . My single lights !-I must away

That dash'd, like midnight revellers, in ;
Both, both are ruin'd if I stay!

And such the strange mysterious din
Farewell sweet life! thou cling'st in vain- At times throughout those caverns rollid,
Now-Vengeance ! -I am thine again.' And such the fearful wonders told
Fiercely he broke away, nor stopp'd, Of restless sprites imprison'd there,
Nor look'd—but from the lattice dropp'd That bold were Moslem, who would dare,
Down ’mid the pointed crags beneath, At twilight hour, to steer his skiff
As if he fled from love to death.

Beneath the Gheber's lonely cliff.
While pale and mute young HINDA stood, On the land side, those towers sublime,
Nor mov'd, till in the silent flood

That seem'd above the grasp of Time,
A momentary plunge below

Were sever'd from the haunts of men Startled her from her trance of wo.” By a wide, deep, and wizard glen,

So fathomless, so full of gloom, The length of these extracts prevents No eye could pierce the void between; us from quoting the whole description It seem'd a place where Gholes might come of the hero Hafed; but the following With their foul banquets from the tomb, lines will shew that he was worthy to

And in its caverns feed unseen. be the lover of Hinda, and the chief Like distant thunder from below, of the Fire-Worshippers :

The sound of many torrents came;

Too deep for eye or ear to know Such were the tales that won belief,

If 'twere the sea's imprison'd flow, And such the colouring fancy gave

Or floods of ever-restless flame.
To a young, warm, and dauntless Chief, For each ravine, each rocky spire,

One who, no more than mortal brave, Of that vast mountain stood on fire;
Fought for the land his soul ador'd, And though for ever past the days,
For happy homes and altars free, When God was worshipped in the blaze

That from its lofty altar shone,

But the rude littér, roughly spread Though fled the priests, the votaries gone, With war-cloaks, is her homely bed, Still did the mighty flame burn on

And shawl and sash, on javelins hung Through chance and change, through good For awning, o'er her head are flung and ill,

Shuddering she look'd around—there lay Like its own God's eternal will,

A group of warriors in the sun Deep, constant, bright, unquenchable !" Resting their limbs, as for that day We shall conclude our extracts with

Their ministry of death were done.

Some gazing on the drowsy sea, the following exquisite description of Lost in unconscious reverie; a calm after a storm, and of Hinda And some, who seem'd but ill to brook awaking from a swoon of terror on That sluggish calm, with many a look board of the war-bark of Hafed ; than To the slack sail impatient cast, which last it is difficult to conceive any As loose it flagg'd before the mast.” thing of the kind making a nearer ap On looking back to our extracts, we proach to the definite distinctness of feel that they give a very inadequate the sister-art of painting.

idea of the high and varied excellence “ How calm, how beautiful comes on

of Mr Moore's poetry. But from a The stilly hour, when storms are gone ! poem of four long cantos, how is it When warring winds have died away, possible to give any but short and imAnd clouds, beneath the glancing ray, perfect specimens? Yet though our Melt off, and leave the land and sea readers may not be able, from these Sleeping in bright tranquillity,

few passages, to judge of the design Fresh as if day again were born,

and execution of the whole poem, they Again upon the lap of morn!

will at least discover in them the hand When the light blossoms, rudely torn And scatter'd at the whirlwind's will,

of a master,-as a judge of painting Hang floating in the pure air, still,

could, from the smallest shred of a Filling it all with precious balm,

picture, decide on the skill and genius In gratitude for this sweet calm ;

of the artist, though he saw only a bit And every drop the thunder-showers

of colouring, and the contour of a single Have left upon the grass and flowers limb. For our own parts, we are of Sparkles, as 'twere that lightning gem

opinion, that if Mr Moore had written Whose liquid flame is born of them !

nothing but the Fire-Worshippers, he When, 'stead of one unchanging breeze, There blow a thousand gentle airs,

would have stood in the first rank of And each a different perfume bears,—

living poets. The subject is a fine one, As if the loveliest plants and trees and admirably suited to call forth Had vassal breezes of their own,

the display of his peculiar feelings and To watch and wait on them alone,

faculties. His ardent and fiery love of And waft no other breath than theirs ! Liberty,--his impassioned patriotism, When the blue waters rise and fall,

at times assuming the loftiest form of In sleepy sunshine mantling all ;

which that virtue is susceptible, and And even that swell the tempest leaves

at others bordering upon a vague and Is like the full and silent heaves Of lovers' hearts, when newly blest

objectless enthusiasm, --his admiration Too newly to be quite at rest !

of what may be called the virtues of Such was the golden hour that broke

his native land, -valour, courage, geUpon the world when Hinda 'woke nerosity, love, and religion; an admiFrom her long trance, and heard around ration which occasionally induces hím No motion but the waters' sound

to sympathise with illegitimate or exRippling against the vessel's side,

travagant exercises of such emotions, As slow it mounted o'er the tide..

--his keen and exquisite perception of But where is she ? her eyes are dark, Are wilder'd still-is this the bark,

the striking, the startling, and the picThe same, that from Harmosia's bay turesque, in incident and situation, Bore her at morn, whose bloody way

his wonderful command of a rich poThe sea-dog tracks ?-No! strange and new etical phraseology, sometimes eminent Is all that meets her wondering view. ly and beautifully happy, and not unUpon a galliot's deck she lies,

frequently overlaid with too highlyBeneath no rich pavilion's shade,

coloured ornament and decoration, No plumes to fan her sleeping eyes,

his flowing, rapid, and unobstructed Nor jasmine on her pillow laid.

versification, now gliding like a smooth *“ A precious stone of the Indies, called and majestic river, and now like a by the ancients Ceraunium, because it was

mountain-stream dallying with the supposed to be found in places where thun rocks, which rather seem to hasten der had fallen,” &c.

than impede its course all these

powers and qualifications are exhibited enemy of his country, his religion, and in their utmost perfection, throughout his God. Yet the divine inspiration, the progress of a wild and romantic breathed from innocence and beauty, tale, in which we are hurried on from has mingled with his existence; and one danger to another—from peril to though there can be no union on earth peril-from adventure to adventure-. between them, he wildly cherishes and from hope into sudden despair-from clings to her image_shews his devothe exaltation of joy into the prostra- tion, his love, and his gratitude, even tion of misery-from all the bright after the fatal horn has sounded unto delusions and visionary delights of love death-and abandons her in that exdreaming on the bosom of happiness, tremity, only because he must not into the black, real, and substantial abandon the holy cause of liberty and horrors of irremediable desolation truth. from youth and enjoyment, untamed And here we may remark, that our and aspiring; into anguish, destiny, full and perfect sympathy goes with and death.

the illustrious Gheber, both in the obIndeed, to us the great excellence of jects to which he is devoted, and the this poem is in the strength of attach- feelings with which that devotion is ment--the illimitable power of pas- displayed. His is no cause of doubtful sion-displayed in the character and right-of equivocal justice. He is not conduct of Hinda and afed-fe a rebel dignified with the name of paings different in their object, in minds triot, nor a wild enthusiast fighting in so differently constituted as theirs, but support of an absurd or wicked faith. equal in the degree of their intensity. He is the last of a host of heroes, who From the first moment that we behold perish in defence of their country's inHinda, we behold her innocent, pure, dependence ;-the last of an enlightand spotless ; but her heart, her soul, ened priesthood, we may say, who her senses, her fancy, and her imagin- wished to preserve the sanctity of their ation, all occupied with one glorious own lofty persuasion against “ a creed and delightful vision that for ever of lust, and hate, and crime.” The haunts, disturbs, and blesses-which feelings, therefore, which he acts upon has, in spite of herself, overcome and are universal, and free from all party subdued, what was formerly the ruling taint-a vice which, we cannot help emotion of her nature, filial affection, thinking, infects several of Mr Moore's - and which at last shakes the foun- shorter poems, and mars their emis dation even of the religious faith in nent beauty. Perhaps there are a few which she had been brought up from passages of general declamation, even a child, and forces her to love, admire, in this poem, coloured by what some and believe that creed, of which there may think party rather than natural had been instilled into her mind the feelings; but they are of rare occurbitterest abhorrence-till she sees no rence, and may easily be forgiven to a thing on earth or in heaven but in poet who belongs to a country where relation to her devoted hero. Hafed, pride has long struggled with oppresa on the other hand, has had all the sion--where religion has been given energies of his soul roused by the no as a reason against the diffusion of poblest objects, and the imperious de- litical privileges--and where valour mand of the highest duties, before he guards liberties which the brave are has seen the divine countenance of not permitted to enjoy. Hinda. His soul is already filled with Another great beauty in the cona patriotism which feels that it cannot duct of this poem is the calm air of restore the liberties of his country, grandeur which invests, from first to though it may still avenge their de- last, the principal agent—the utter struction,---with a piety that cannot hopelessness of ultimate success, yet keep unextinguished the fires sacred the unshaken resolution of death, and to its God, but hopes to preserve the the unpalpitating principle of a rightshrine on which they burn unpolluted eous vengeance. From the beginning by profane hands, and finally to perish we seem to know that Hafed and his an immolation in the holy element. Ghebers must die-yet the certainty He feels that with him any love must of their death makes us feel a deeper be a folly, a madness, a crime; but interest in their life: they move for above all, love to the daughter of the ever before us, like men under doom ; VOL. I.

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and we foresee the glory of their end For ourselves we have but small in the heroic tranquillity with which liking for such things, and consider it they all contemplate it—and at last less a proof of versatility than incon: are satisfied with the sweeping des- sistency, that a poet, capable of simple, truction of the final catastrophe, which manly, elevated, noble, and heroicleaves not one freeman in a land of sentiments, and familiar with the slaves.

grandest regions of the human soul; But we are transgressing our limits, should condescend to trifle away his and have really left ourselves no room time with such sickly affectations, for pointing out the faults of this poem, however graceful, and to pursue dis.. and of Mr Moore's poetry in general. eased and effeminate feelings through We must delay this ungracious task all the flowery alleys of an artificial to our next Number, or some other fancy. But we are determined to part opportunity. Indeed we almost think with Mr Moore with pleasure and this task would be idle as well as un, complacency, and therefore take leave: gracious, and feel as if we would of him and

our readers with a quota shove it off entirely upon the shoul. tion from this very poem which has ders of more fastidious critics. thus excited our spleen; and, truly,

We have not left ourselves room for if it contained many such passages, it. an account of the remaining poem, would have admirers enough in spite “ The Light of the Haram.” do of our criticism. not seem to require any. It is a graceful and elegant trifle, that ought to be Dissension between hearts that love !

“ Alas ! how light a cause may move perused in a drawing-room, richly Hearts that the world in vain has tried, furnished with all the ornaments and And sorrow but more closely tied; luxuries of fashionable life. There That stood the storm when waves were doubtless is nature in it, and there rough, fore it must give pleasure to all kinds Yet in a sunny hour fall off, and classes of readers ; but it is na. Like ships that have gone down at sea, ture wholly under the influence of art

When heav'n was all tranquillity! and artificial feelings; and the poet has A something, light as air-a look, taken the same pains, and perhaps ex

A word unkind or wrongly taken hibited the same power, in describing

Oh ! love, that tempests never shook,

A breath, a touch like this, has shaken. whim, caprice, folly, and extravagance, And ruder words will soon rush in that he has exerted on the legitimate To spread the breach that words begin ; subjects of his art. We think he and eyes forget the gentle ray. might have been better employed, They wore in courtship's smiling day; though we know nobody who could And voices lose the tone that shed have wrought such a piece of fanciful

A tenderness round all they said ; embroidery but himself.

Till fast declining, one by one,
But the

The sweetnesses of love are gone, tinkling of a guitar cannot be endured

And hearts, so lately mingled, seem immediately after the music of the Like broken clouds,—

-or like the stream, harp; and we dislike to see an accom That smiling left the mountain's brow, plished performer wasting his powers As though its waters ne'er could sever, on an insignificant instrument. But Yet, ere it reach the plain below, they who love to read of lovers' quar

Breaks into floods that part for ever !" rels, may here find them gracefully narrated-may learn how the Son of Acbar became displeased with the Sultana Nourmahal-how the Feast of Elements of the Natural History of Roses at Cashmere lost all its delights the Animal Kingdom. By CHARLES in consequence of this coolness-how STEWART, Fellow of the Linnæani Nourmahal got from an enchantress and Wernerian Societies. 2 vols 8vo. a wreath of flowers, which bestowed Second edition. Edinburgh, Bell on her an irresistible and subduing

and Bradfute. London, Longman spirit of song-how she assumed the and Co., 1817. disguise of a lutanist from Cashmere, and sung to the Emperor so bewitch: A PROPER elementary work on Zooing a strain, that

logy has long been one of our prin“ Selim to his heart has caught, cipal desiderata in natural history; In blushes more than ever bright,

and the want of such a work in EngHis Nourmahal, his Haram's light.” lish has no doubt contributed materiale

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