THEY took their way (Vathek and his young bride, The sweet Nouronihar) through summer fields Of flowers by sparkling rivers-fountains that Splashed o'er the turf-by palm and tamarisk trees- And where the dark pines talked to solitudes; And oft beguiled the way with amorous songs, Kisses and looks voluptuous; and they quaffed At mid-day iced waters which had grown Cool in the valley of Roenabad :-One thing Did intervene to mar those quiet hours ;- Which was ambition.
But these days passed by: And then they journeyed among perilous sands, Which the hot blast of the desert swept at times To figures columnar; these subsiding, left Open to view the wide horizon, where
Lifting their heads, like mountains, to the skies, 'Rose the dark towers of Istakar.-The moon Hid her pale face eclipsed, and sore afraid Lest that the baleful atmosphere might shroud Her light for ever; and interlunar stars
Shrank and grew dim, as when the morning shews His grey eye in the East.-Forward they passed 'Midst crumbling walls, and shaking minarets, Where even the ivy grew not, and at last Stood 'neath the mighty palace of those kings Who ruled before the flood. It seemed as built For all eternity; and its pillars threw
On the black platform, long, large lines of shadow, That lay upon the marble, like to things Substantial-Countless and sky-touching towers (Whose architecture was unknown amidst The records of the earth') stood there, like that
• Vide Beckford's History of the Caliph Vathek.
Vast pile our ancestry once dared to raise In old Chaldea, whence they met the wrath Of God, and nature's own sweet language fled The lips of men for ever.-Silence reigned; And glimmering darkness in the middle air Brooded, but shifting aye her shadowy wings, Let horror creep between, and doubtful light; And chill, sepulchral airs, that had no sound, Touched the pale cheek of young Nouronihar: And Vathek felt his heart grow cold, and stayed His breath to listen, and he grasped hard Her trembling hand for mere companionship.
The stars now shone anew; and right against The palace, carved curiously, were seen Leopards and winged hyppogriffs, and shapes Unknown but to the bottoms of the deep, And there, by all sea-monsters that we fear, Dreaded, and left alone; above these forms Were traced mysterious characters, that did yield A welcome to the pair. Scarce had they read When from amongst the ruins came a sound Like anguish, and the yawning ground gave out Blue subterranean fires, that shewed a door Whose barred labyrinths led to Hell.-There stood The dwarfed Indian, grinning like a fiend: "Welcome!' he cried,Both welcome! Ye are come To see the Prince of morning! Ye deserve To see, and ye shall see him.' Then he touched The charmed lock, 'round which, invisibly, A hundred watchful demons wheeled, and kept Sacred the homes of starry Eblis.-Wide It opened with a horrid sound, and shut
(When Vathek and his bride had entered there) 'Midst laughs, and shrieks exulting, like the noise Of mountainous thunder, or the withering voice Of him who from Vesuvius calls abroad In madness, and casts out his blazing foam Like rivers toward the sea.
The Hall of Eblis: vaulted 'twas and high So none might mark the roofs! The pillars that Stood like supporting giants, verged away In long innumerable avenues, but
Met at a point bright as the sun, when he Looks flaming on the sands of Palestine. Each column bore a different character, And by the lambent flames that played about Like snakes, and pointed their ethereal spires Towards the stupendous capitals (which seemed Wrought in the finer times of Greece, when men Struck armed Pallas from a senseless stone To life, and shaped those matchless Deities, Venus, and stern Apollo, and the rest)
Strange letters might be seen-their import known To none but the immortals.-The sad pair Traversed a scene of luxury and woe;
They trod on gold and flowers, while from the ground Voluptuous odours steamed, whose breath was sweet As hers whom story fabled once the queen
Of beauty; there saffron, and citron boughs, Cedar, and sweet perfuming sandal woods Were burning; and distilled and fragrant waters Sparkled in crystal ;-but around them stalked Figures like men—all silent—with despair On every face, and each did press his hand Against his heart, and shunned his fellow wretch.
Upon a globe of fire sat Eblis. He
Was prince of all the spirits that rebelled 'Gainst God and met perdition. He was young Still; and, but that some pride burned in his eye, You might have pitied him. His flowing hair, Streaming like sunbeams, told he must have been An angel once, and fair, and beautiful; Nay, in his fallen station, he retained A relic of his old nobility:
And though he fell, you would have said he fell
For aiming at a world. 'Creatures,' he said, Creatures of clay! I number ye amongst My subjects and adorers: Live ye here For ever, and for ever.' Then his orb, Receding from the presence of the damned, Shrunk to a point of light, and as it shrunk The hearts of his believers withered, and burned Internally (as he had left behind
A portion of his fire) and on their souls Came darkness and dismay: and all knew then The unconsuming flame was come; and each Hated himself and fellow. Thus they lived For ages and for ages, a sad prey
To fires perpetual and endless fear
Sorrow although they loved not-hot desires, That never could be quelled-hunger and thirst— Fierce jealousy-and groundless doubt and hate- And blasting envy-and ('midst other ills) Sense of contempt in others. Thus they lived: And not one creature ever after knew What 'twas to hope.
LIKE some faint light that shines along the deep, Joy to the watchful-peace to those who sleep- Its blaze expanding, as each heart draws near The home where sparkles every smile that's dear, "Till from its splendour, welcomed in at last- Fades all reflection on the gloomy past! So in its birth glows man's pale beam of life, The spark of sorrow, then the flame of strife- Dazzling awhile, until its glare be spent On thoughts of madness, and of dark intent ;— Next, a bright beacon on his troubled sea- Bursting at length into Eternity!
WRITTEN IN THE CHURCH-YARD OF RICHMOND,
It is good for us to be here: if thou wilt, let us make here three Tabernacles, one for thee, one tor Moses, and one for Elias.
METHINKS it is good to be here,
If thou wilt let us build-but for whom?
Nor Elias nor Moses appear;
But the shadows of Eve that encompass with gloom The abode of the dead and the place of the tomb.
Shall we build to Ambition? Ah no! Affrighted, he shrinketh away,-
For see, they would pin him below
In a dark narrow cave, and, begirt with cold clay, To the meanest of reptiles a peer and a prey.
To Beauty? Ah no! she forgets The charms which She wielded before;
Nor knows the foul worm that he frets
The skin that but yesterday fools could adore,
For the smoothness it held, or the tint which it wore.
Shall we build to the purple of Pride,
The trappings which dizen the proud?
Alas! they are all laid aside,
And here's neither dress nor adornment allowed
Save the long winding-sheet and the fringe of the shroud.
To Riches? Alas, 'tis in vain ;
Who hid in their turns have been hid;
The treasures are squandered again;
And here in the grave are all metals forbid
Save the tinsel that shines on the dark coffin lid.
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