Whose is yon dawning form,

That in the darkness meets

The delegated youth?

Dim as the shadow of a fire at noon,

Or pale reflection on the evening brook

Of Glow-worm on the bank

Kindled to guide her winged paramour.

A moment, and the brightening image shaped

His Mother’s form and features. “Go,” she cried,

“To Babylon, and from the Angels learn

“What talisman thy task requires.”

The Spirit hung towards him when she ceased,

As tho’ with actual lips she would have given

A mother’s kiss ... his arms outstretched,

His body bending on,

His lips unclosed and trembling into speech

He prest to meet the blessing,... but the wind

Played on his cheek: he looked, and he beheld

The darkness close. “Again! again!” he cried,

“Let me again behold thee!” from the darkness

His Mother’s voice went forth;

“Thou shall behold me in the hour of death.”

Day dawns, the twilight gleam dilates,

The Sun comes forth and like a God

Rides thro’ rejoicing heaven.

Old Moath and his daughter from their tent

Beheld the adventurous youth,

Dark moving o’er the sands,

A lessening image, trembling thro’ their tears.

Visions of high emprize

Beguiled his lonely road;

And if sometimes to Moath’s tent

The involuntary mind recurred,

Fancy, impatient of all painful thoughts

Pictured the bliss should welcome his return.

In dreams like these he went,

And still of every dream

Oneiza formed a part,

And Hope and Memory made a mingled joy.

In the eve he arrived at a Well,

The Acacia bent over its side,

Under whose long light-hanging boughs

He chose his night’s abode.

There, due ablutions made and prayers performed,

The youth his mantle spread,

And silently produced

His solitary meal.

The silence and the solitude recalled

Dear recollections, and with folded arms,

Thinking of other days, he sate, till thought

Had left him, and the Acacia’s moving shade

Upon the sunny sand

Had caught his idle eye,

And his awakened ear

Heard the grey Lizard’s chirp,

The only sound of life.

As thus in vacant quietness he sate,

A Traveller on a Camel reached the Well,

And courteous greeting gave.

The mutual salutation past,

He by the cistern too his garment spread,

And friendly converse cheered the social meal.

The Stranger was an antient man,

Yet one whose green old age

Bore the fair characters of temperate youth.

So much of manhood’s strength his limbs retained,

It seemed he needed not the staff he bore.

His beard was long, and grey, and crisp;

Lively his eyes and quick,

And reaching over them

The large broad eye-brow curled....

His speech was copious, and his winning words

Enriched with knowledge, that the attentive youth

Sate listening with a thirsty joy.

So in the course of talk

The adventurer youth enquired

Whither his course was bent;

The Old Man answered, “to Bagdad I go.”

At that so welcome sound a flash of joy

Kindled the eye of Thalaba;

“And I too,” he replied,

“Am journeying thitherward,

“Let me become companion of thy way!”

Courteous the Old Man smiled,

And willing in assent....

OLD MAN.

Son, thou art young for travel.

THALABA.

Until now

I never past the desert boundary.

OLD MAN.

It is a noble city that we seek.

Thou wilt behold magnificent palaces,

And lofty obelisks, and high-domed Mosques,

And rich Bazars, whither from all the world

Industrious merchants meet, and market there

The World’s collected wealth.

THALABA.

Stands not Bagdad

Near to the site of ancient Babylon

And Nimrod’s impious temple?

OLD MAN.

From the walls

’Tis but a long day’s distance.

THALABA.

And the ruins?

OLD MAN.

A mighty mass remains; enough to tell us

How great our [70]fathers were, how little we.

Men are not what they were; their crimes and follies

Have dwarfed them down from the old hero race

To such poor things as we!

THALABA.

At Babylon

I have heard the Angels expiate their guilt,

Haruth and Maruth.

OLD MAN.

’Tis a history

Handed from ages down; the nurses make it

A tale to please their children,

And as their garrulous ignorance relates

We learn it and believe ... but all things feel

The power of Time and Change! thistles and grass

Usurp the desolate palace, and the weeds

Of Falshood root in the aged pile of Truth.

How have you heard the tale?

THALABA.

Thus ... on a time

The Angels at the wickedness of man

Expressed indignant wonder: that in vain

Tokens and signs were given, and Prophets sent,...

Strange obstinacy this! a stubborness

Of sin, they said, that should for ever bar

The gates of mercy on them. Allah heard

Their unforgiving pride, and bade that two

Of these untempted Spirits should descend,

Judges on earth. Haruth and Maruth went,

The chosen Sentencers; they fairly heard

The appeals of men to their tribunal brought,

And rightfully decided. At the length

A Woman came before them ... beautiful

Zohara was, as yonder Evening star,

In the mild lustre[71] of whose lovely light

Even now her beauty shines. They gazed on her

With fleshly eyes, they tempted her to sin.

The wily woman listened, and required

A previous price, the knowledge of the name[72]

Of God. She learnt the wonder-working name

And gave it utterance, and its virtue bore her

Up to the glorious Presence, and she told

Before the aweful Judgement-Seat, her tale.

OLD MAN.

I know the rest, the accused Spirits were called:

Unable of defence, and penitent,

They owned their crime and heard the doom deserved.

Then they besought the Lord that not for ever

His wrath might be upon them; and implored

That penal ages might at length restore them

Clean from offence, since then by Babylon

In the cavern of their punishment they dwell,

Runs the conclusion so?

THALABA.

So I am taught.

OLD MAN.

The common tale! and likely thou hast heard

How that the bold and bad, with impious rites

Intrude upon their penitence, and force,

Albeit from loathing and reluctant lips,

The sorcery-secret?

THALABA.

Is it not the truth?

OLD MAN.

Son, thou hast seen the Traveller in the sands

Move in the dizzy light of the hot noon,

Huge[73] as the giant race of elder times,

And his Camel, than the monstrous Elephant,

Seem of a vaster bulk.

THALABA.

A frequent sight.

OLD MAN.

And hast thou never in the twilight, fancied

Familiar object into some strange shape

And form uncouth?

THALABA.

Aye! many a time.

OLD MAN.

Even so

Things viewed at distance thro’ the mist of fear,

In their distortion terrify and shock

The abused sight.

THALABA.

    But of these Angels fate

Thus in the uncreated Book is written.

OLD MAN.

Wisely from legendary fables, Heaven

Inculcates wisdom.

THALABA.

    How then is the truth?

Is not the dungeon of their punishment

By ruined Babylon?

OLD MAN.

By Babylon

Haruth and Maruth may be found.

THALABA.

    And there

Magician learn their impious sorcery?

OLD MAN.

Son what thou sayest is true, and it is false.

But night approaches fast; I have travelled far

And my old lids are heavy ... on our way

We shall have hours for converse, let us now

Turn to our due repose. Son, peace be with thee!

So in his loosened cloak

The Old Man wrapt[74] himself

And laid his limbs at length:

And Thalaba in silence laid him down.

Awhile he lay and watched the lovely Moon,

O’er whose broad orb the boughs

A mazy fretting framed,

Or with a pale transparent green

Lighting the restless leaves,

The thin Acacia leaves that played above.

The murmuring wind, the moving leaves

Lulled him to sleep with mingled lullabies.

Not so the dark Magician by his side,

Lobaba, who from the Domdaniel caves

Had sought the dreaded youth.

Silent he lay, and simulating sleep,

Till by the long and regular breath he knew

The youth beside him slept.

Carefully then he rose,

And bending over him, surveyed him near

And secretly he cursed

The dead Abdaldar’s ring,

Armed by whose amulet

He slept from danger safe.

Wrapped in his mantle Thalaba reposed,

His loose right arm pillowing his head.

The Moon was on the Ring,

Whose crystal gem returned

A quiet, moveless light.

Vainly the Wizard vile put forth his hand

And strove to reach the gem,

Charms strong as hell could make them, made it safe.

He called his servant fiends,

He bade the Genii rob the sleeping youth.

By the virtue of the Ring,

By Mohammed’s holier power,

By the holiest name of God,

Had Thalaba disarmed the evil race.

Baffled and weary, and convinced at length,

Anger, and fear, and rancour gnawing him,

The accursed Sorcerer ceased his vain attempts.

Content perforce to wait

Temptations likelier aid.

Restless he lay, and brooding many a wile,

And tortured with impatient hope,

And envying with the bitterness of hate

The innocent youth, who slept so sweetly by.

The ray of morning on his eye lids fell,

And Thalaba awoke

And folded his mantle around him,

And girded his loins for the day;

Then the due rites of holiness observed.

His comrade too arose,

And with the outward forms

Of righteousness and prayer insulted God.

They filled their water skin, they gave

The Camel his full draught.

Then on their road while yet the morn was young

And the air was fresh with dew,

Forward the travellers went,

With various talk beguiling the long way.

But soon the youth, whose busy mind

Dwelt on Lobaba’s wonder-stirring words,

Renewed the unfinished converse of the night.

THALABA.

Thou saidest that it is true, and yet is false,

That men accurst, attain at Babylon

Forbidden knowledge from the Angel pair....

How mean you?

LOBABA.

All things have a double power,

Alike for good and evil, the same fire

That on the comfortable hearth at eve

Warmed the good man, flames o’er the house at night

Should we for this forego

The needful element?

Because the scorching summer Sun

Darts fever, wouldst thou quench the orb of day?

Or deemest thou that Heaven in anger formed

Iron to till the field, because when man

Had tipt his arrows for the chase, he rushed

A murderer to the war?

THALABA.

What follows hence?

LOBABA.

That nothing in itself is good or evil,

But only in its use. Think you the man

Praiseworthy who by painful study learns

The knowledge of all simples, and their power

Healing or harmful?

THALABA.

All men hold in honour

The skilful Leech. From land to land he goes

Safe in his privilege; the sword of war

Spares him, Kings welcome him with costly gifts,

And he who late had from the couch of pain

Lifted a languid look to him for aid,

Views him with brightened eyes, and blesses him

In his first thankful prayer.

LOBABA.

Yet some there are

Who to the purposes of wickedness,

Apply this knowledge, and from herbs distil

Poison to mix it in the trusted draught.

THALABA.

Allah shall cast them in the fire

Whose fuel is the cursed! there shall they

Endure the ever-burning agony

Consuming[75] still in flames, and still renewed.

LOBABA.

But is their knowledge therefore in itself

Unlawful?

THALABA.

That were foolishness to think.

LOBABA.

O what a glorious animal were Man,

Knew he but his own powers! and knowing gave them

Room for their growth and spread! the Horse obeys

His guiding will, the patient Camel bears him

Over these wastes of sand, the Pigeon wafts

His bidding thro’ the sky: and with these triumphs

He rests contented! with these ministers,

When he might awe the Elements, and make

Myriads of Spirits serve him!

THALABA.

But as how!

By a league with Hell, a covenant that binds

The soul to utter death!

LOBABA.

Was Solomon

Accurst of God? yet to his talismans

Obedient, o’er his throne the birds of Heaven

Their waving wings[76] his sun-shield, fanned around him

The motionless air of noon: from place to place,

As his will reined the viewless Element

He rode the Wind: the Genii reared his temple,

And ceaselessly in fear while his dead eye

O’erlooked them, day and night pursued their toil,

So dreadful was his power.

THALABA.

But ’twas from Heaven

His wisdom came; God’s special gift ... the guerdon

Of early virtue.

LOBABA.

Learn thou, O young man!

God hath appointed Wisdom the reward

Of study! ’tis a spring of living waters,

Whose inexhaustible bounties all might drink

But few dig deep enough. Son! thou art silent,...

Perhaps I say too much,... perhaps offend thee.

THALABA.

Nay, I am young, and willingly as becomes me,

Hear the wise words of age.

LOBABA.

Is it a crime

To mount the horse, because forsooth thy feet

Can serve thee for the journey? is it sin

Because the Hern soars upward in the sky

Above the arrow’s flight, to train the Falcon

Whose beak shall pierce him there? the powers which All

Granted to man, were granted for his use;

All knowledge that befits not human weakness

Is placed beyond its reach.... They who repair

To Babylon, and from the Angels learn

Mysterious wisdom, sin not in the deed.

THALABA.

Know you these secrets?

LOBABA.

I? alas my Son

My age just knows enough to understand

How little all its knowledge! later years

Sacred to study, teach me to regret

Youth’s unforeseeing indolence, and hours

That cannot be recalled! something I know:

The properties of herbs, and have sometimes

Brought to the afflicted comfort and relief

By the secrets of my art; under His blessing

Without whom all had failed! Also of Gems

I have some knowledge, and the characters

That tell beneath what aspect they were set.

THALABA.

Belike you can interpret then the graving

Around this Ring?

LOBABA.

My sight is feeble, Son,

And I must view it closer, let me try!

The unsuspecting Youth

Held forth his linger to draw off the spell.

Even whilst he held it forth,

There settled there a Wasp,

And just above the Gem infixed its dart.

All purple swoln the hot and painful flesh

Rose round the tightened Ring.

The baffled Sorcerer knew the hand of Heaven,

And inwardly blasphemed.

Ere long Lobaba’s heart,

Fruitful in wiles, devised new stratagem.

A mist arose at noon;

Like the loose hanging skirts

Of some low cloud that, by the breeze impelled,

Sweeps o’er the mountain side.

With joy the thoughtless youth

That grateful shadowing hailed;

For grateful was the shade,

While thro’ the silver-lighted haze

Guiding their way, appeared the beamless Sun.

But soon that beacon failed;

A heavier mass of cloud

Impenetrably deep,

Hung o’er the wilderness.

“Knowest thou the track?” quoth Thalaba,

“Or should we pause, and wait the wind

“To scatter this bewildering fog?”

The Sorcerer answered him

“Now let us hold right on,... for if we stray

“The Sun tomorrow will direct our course.”

So saying, he towards the desert depths

Misleads the youth deceived.

Earlier the night came on,

Nor moon, nor stars, were visible in Heaven;

And when at morn the youth unclosed his eyes

He knew not where to turn his face in prayer.

“What shall we do?” Lobaba cried,

“The lights of Heaven have ceased

“To guide us on our way.

“Should we remain and wait

“More favourable skies?

“Soon would our food and water fail us here!

“And if we venture on,

“There are the dangers of the wilderness!”

“Sure it were best proceed!”

The chosen youth replies.

“So haply we may reach some tent, or grove

“Of dates, or stationed tribe.

“But idly to remain

“Were yielding effortless, and waiting death.”

The wily Sorcerer willingly assents,

And farther in the sands,

Elate of heart, he leads the credulous youth.

Still o’er the wilderness

Settled the moveless mist.

The timid Antelope that heard their steps

Stood doubtful where to turn in that dim light,

The Ostrich, blindly hastening, met them full.

At night again in hope,

Young Thalaba laid down;

The morning came, and not one guiding ray

Thro’ the thick mist was visible,

The same deep moveless mist that mantled all.

Oh for the Vulture’s scream

That haunts for prey the abode of humankind!

Oh for the Plover’s[77] pleasant cry

To tell of water near!

Oh for the Camel-driver’s[78] song!

For now the water-skin grows light,

Tho’ of the draught, more eagerly desired,

Imperious prudence took with sparing thirst.

Oft from the third night’s broken sleep,

As in his dreams he heard

The sound of rushing winds,

Started the anxious youth, and looked abroad,

In vain! for still the deadly calm endured.

Another day past on,

The water-skin was drained,

But then one hope arrived

For there was motion in the air!

The sound of the wind arose anon

That scattered the thick mist,

And lo! at length the lovely face of Heaven!

Alas ... a wretched scene

Was opened on their view.

They looked around, no wells were near,

No tent, no human aid!

Flat on the Camel lay the water-skin,

And their dumb servant difficultly now,

Over hot sands and under the hot sun,

Dragged on with patient pain.

But oh the joy! the blessed sight!

When in the burning waste the Travellers

Saw a green meadow, fair with flowers besprent,

Azure and yellow, like the beautiful fields

Of England, when amid the growing grass

The blue-bell bends, the golden king-cup shines,

In the merry month of May!

Oh joy! the Travellers

Gaze on each other with hope-brightened eyes,

For sure thro’ that green meadow flows

The living stream! and lo! their famished beast

Sees the restoring sight!

Hope gives his feeble limbs a sudden strength,

He hurries on!

The herbs so fair to eye

Were Senna, and the Gentian’s blossom blue,

And kindred plants that with unwatered root

Fed in the burning sand, whose bitter leaves

Even frantic[79] Famine loathed.

In uncommunicating misery

Silent they stood. At length Lobaba cried,

“Son we must slay the Camel, or we die

“For lack of water! thy young hand is firm,

“Draw forth the knife and pierce him!”

Wretch accurst,

Who that beheld thy venerable face,

Thy features fixed with suffering, the dry lips,

The feverish eyes, could deem that all within

Was magic ease, and fearlessness secure,

And wiles of hellish import? the young man

Paused with reluctant pity: but he saw

His comrade’s red and painful countenance,

And his own burning breath came short and quick,

And at his feet the gasping beast

Lies, over-worn with want.

Then from his[80] girdle Thalaba took the knife

With stern compassion, and from side to side

Across[81] the Camel’s throat,

Drew deep the crooked blade.

Servant of man, that merciful deed

For ever ends thy suffering, but what doom

Waits thy deliverer! “little will thy death

“Avail us!” thought the youth,

As in the water-skin he poured

The Camel’s hoarded draught:

It gave a scant supply,

The poor allowance of one prudent day.

Son of Hodeirah, tho’ thy steady soul

Despaired not, firm in faith,

Yet not the less did suffering Nature feel

Her pangs and trials, long their craving thirst

Struggled with fear, by fear itself inflamed;

But drop by drop, that poor,

That last supply is drained!

Still the same burning sun! no cloud in heaven!

The hot air quivers, and the sultry mist

Floats o’er the desert, with a show

Of distant[82] waters, mocking their distress!

The youth’s parched lips were black,

His tongue was[83] dry and rough,

His eye-balls red with heat.

His comrade gazed on him with looks

That seemed to speak of pity, and he said

“Let me behold thy Ring,

“It may have virtue that can save us yet!”

With that he took his hand

And viewed the writing close,

Then cried with sudden joy

“It is a stone that whoso bears

“The Genii must obey!

“Now raise thy voice, my Son,

“And bid them in his name that here is written

“Preserve us in our need.”

“Nay!” answered Thalaba,

“Shall I distrust the providence of God?

“Is it not He must save?

“If Allah wills it not

“Vain were the Genii’s aid.”

Whilst he spake Lobaba’s eye

Full on the distance fixed,

Attended not his speech.

Its fearful meaning drew

The looks of Thalaba.

Columns of sand came moving on,

Red in the burning ray

Like obelisks of fire

They rushed before the driving wind.

Vain were all thoughts of flight!

They had not hoped escape

Could they have backed the Dromedary then

Who in his rapid race

Gives to the tranquil[84] air, a drowning force.

High ... high in heaven upcurled

The dreadful[85] columns moved,

Swift, as the whirlwind that impelled their way,

They rushed towards the Travellers!

The old Magician shrieked,

And lo! the foremost bursts,

Before the whirlwind’s force,

Scattering afar a burning shower of sand.

“Now by the virtue of the Ring

“Save us!” Lobaba cried.

“While yet thou hast the power

“Save us. O save us! now!”

The youth made no reply,

Gazing in aweful wonder on the scene.

“Why dost thou wait?” the Old Man exclaimed,

“If Allah and the Prophet will not save

“Call on the Powers that will!”

“Ha! do I know thee, Infidel accurst?”

Exclaimed the awakened youth.

“And thou hast led me hither, Child of Sin!

“That fear might make me sell

“My soul to endless death!”

“Fool that thou art!” Lobaba cried,

“Call upon him whose name

“Thy charmed signet bears,

“Or die the death thy foolishness deserves!”

“Servant of Hell! die thou!” quoth Thalaba.

And leaning on his bow

He fitted the loose string,

And laid the arrow in its resting-place.

“Bow of my Father, do thy duty now!”

He drew the arrow to its point,

True to his eye it fled,

And full upon the breast

It smote the wizard man.

Astonished Thalaba beheld

The blunted point recoil.

A proud and bitter smile

Wrinkled Lobaba’s cheek,

“Try once again thine earthly arms!” he cried.

“Rash Boy! the Power I serve

“Abandons not his votaries.

“It is for Allah’s wretched slaves, like thou,

“To serve a master, who in the hour of need

“Forsakes them to their fate!

“I leave thee!”... and he shook his staff, and called

The Chariot of his Charms.

Swift as the viewless wind,

Self-moved, the Chariot came,

The Sorcerer mounts the seat.

“Yet once more weigh thy danger!” he exclaimed,

“Ascend the car with me,

“And with the speed of thought

“We pass the desert bounds.”

The indignant youth vouchsafed not to reply,

And lo! the magic car begins its course!

Hark! hark!... he screams.... Lobaba screams!

What wretch, and hast thou raised

The rushing Terrors of the Wilderness

To fall on thine own head?

Death! death! inevitable death!

Driven by the breath of God

A column of the Desert met his way.