Section IX

Majnún, 'midst wild and solitude,His melancholy mood pursued;In sterner moments, loud he raved,The desert's burning noon-tide braved,Or, where refreshing shadows fell,Warbled of her he loved so well.

The Arab chief of that domainWhich now his wandering footsteps pressed,Was honoured for his bounteous reign—For ever succouring the distressed.Noufal his name—well known to wield,Victorious in the battle-field,His glittering sword, and overthrowThe robber-band or martial foe;Magnificent in pomp and state,And wealthy as in valour great.

One day the pleasures of the chase,The keen pursuit of bounding deer,Had brought the chieftain to that placeWhere Majnún stood, and, drawing near,The stranger's features sought to trace,And the sad notes of grief to hear,Which, ere he saw the maniac's face,Had, sorrow-laden, struck his ear.

He now beheld that wasted frame,That head and mien o'ergrown with hair,That wild, wild look, which well might claimBrotherly kindred with despair,Dejected, miserable, borneBy grief to life's last narrow verge,With wounded feet and vestment torn,Singing his own funereal dirge.

Noufal had traversed forest, copse, and glade,In anxious quest of game, and here he foundGame—but what game?—alas! a human shade,So light, it scarcely seemed to touch the ground.

Dismounting straight, he hears what woesHad marred the mournful youth's repose;And kindly tries with gentle wordsTo show what pleasures life affords;And prove the uselessness, the folly,Of nursing grief and melancholy;But worse, when men from reason flee,And willing steep their hearts in misery.The sympathy of generous mindsAround the heart its influence winds,And, ever soothing, by degrees,Restores its long-lost harmonies:Majnún, so long to love a prey,Death hastening on by swift decay,Began to feel that calming spell,That sweet delight, unspeakable,Which draws us from ourselves away.

A change now gently o'er him came;With trembling hand he took the cup,And drank, but drank in Lailí's name,The life-restoring cordial up.His spirits rose; refreshing foodAt Noufal's hospitable boardSeemed to remove his wayward mood,So long endured, so long deplored.

And Noufal with delight surveyedThe social joy his eyes betrayed,And heard his glowing strains of love,His murmurings like the turtle-dove,While thinking of his Arab maid.Changed from himself, his mind at rest,In customary robes he dressed;A turban shades his forehead pale,No more is heard the lover's wail,But, jocund as the vintner's guest,He laughs and drinks with added zest;His dungeon gloom exchanged for day,His cheeks a rosy tint display;He revels 'midst the garden's sweets,And still his lip the goblet meets:But so devoted, so unchanged his flame,Never without repeating Lailí's name.

In friendly converse, heart uniting heart,Noufal and Majnún hand in hand are seen;And, from each other loathing to depart,Wander untired by fount and meadow green.But what is friendship to a soulInured to more intense control?A zephyr breathing over flowers,Compared to when the tempest lours?A zephyr, friendship's gentler course;A tempest, love's tumultuous force;For friendship leaves a vacuum still,Which love, and love alone, can till:So Majnún felt; and Noufal tried,In vain, to fill that aching void:For, though the liquid sparkling redStill flowed, his friend thus sorrowing said:'My generous host, with plenty blessed,No boding cares thy thoughts molest;Thy kindness many a charm hath given,But not one solace under heaven;Without my love, in tears I languish,And not a voice to check my anguish;Like one of thirst about to die,And every fountain near him dry:Thirst is by water quenched, not treasure,Nor floods of wine, nor festive pleasure.Bring me the cure my wounds require;Quench in my heart this raging fire;My Lailí, oh! my Lailí give,Or thy poor friend must cease to live!'Majnún had scarce his wish expressedEre rose in generous Noufal's breastThe firm resolve to serve his friend,And to his settled purpose bendLailí's stern father:Now, in arms arrayed,And lifting high his keen Damascus blade,He calls a band of veterans to his aid.Swift as the feathered race the assembled trainRush, sword in hand, along the desert plain;And when the chieftain's habitation brightUpon the blue horizon strikes the sight,He sends a messenger to claim the bride,In terms imperious, not to be denied;Yet was that claim derided. 'Thou wilt soonRepent this folly:—Lailí is the moon;And who presumes the splendid moon to gain?Is there on earth a man so mad, so vain?Who draw their swords at such a hazard? None.Who strikes his crystal vase upon a stone?'Noufal again endeavours to inspireWith dread of vengeance Lailí's haughty sire;But useless are the threats—the same reply—'Alike thy power and vengeance I defy!'The parley over, Noufal draws his sword,And with his horsemen pours upon the horde,Ready for battle. Spears and helmets ring,And brass-bound shields; loud twangs the archer's string;The field of conflict like the ocean roars,When the huge billows burst upon the shores.Arrows, like birds, on either foeman stood,Drinking with open beak the vital flood;The shining daggers in the battle's heatRolled many a head beneath the horses' feet;And lightnings, hurled by death's unsparing hand,Spread consternation through the weeping land.Amidst the horrors of that fatal fight,Majnún appeared—a strange appalling sight!Wildly he raved, confounding friend and foe,His garments half abandoned in his woe,And with a maniac stare reproachful cried—'Why combat thus when all are on my side?'The foeman laughed—the uproar louder grew—No pause the brazen drums or trumpets knew;The stoutest heart sank at the carnage wrought;Swords blushed to see the numerous heads they smote.—Noufal with dragon-fierceness prowled around,And hurled opposing warriors to the ground:Whatever hero felt his ponderous gerzWas crushed, tho steadfast as the Mount Elbêrz.Upon whatever head his weapon fell,There was but one heart-rending tale to tell.Like a mad elephant the foe he met;With hostile blood his blade continued wet;—Wearied at length, both tribes at once withdrew,Resolved with morn the combat to renew;But Noufal's gallant friends had suffered most;In one hour more the battle had been lost;And thence assistance, ere the following dawn,From other warlike tribes was promptly drawn.The desert rang again. In front and rearGlittered bright sword and buckler, gerz and spear;Again the struggle woke the echoes round,Swords clashed, and blood again made red the ground;The book of life, with dust and carnage stained,Was soon destroyed, and not a leaf remained.At last, the tribe of Lailí's sire gave way,And Noufal won the hard-contested day;Numbers lay bleeding of that conquered band,And died unsuccoured on the burning sand.And now the elders of that tribe appear,Imploring the proud victor. 'Chieftain, hear!The work of slaughter is complete;Thou seest our power destroyed; allowUs, wretched suppliants, at thy feet,Humbly to ask for mercy now.How many warriors press the plain,Khanjer and spear have laid them low;At peace, behold our kinsmen slain,And thou art now without a foe.

'Then pardon what of wrong has been:Let us retire, unharmed—unstayed—Far from this sanguinary scene,And take thy prize—the Arab Maid.'Then came the father, full of grief, and said—(Ashes and dust upon his hoary head,)'With thee, alas! how useless to contend!Thou art the conqueror, and to thee I bend.Without resentment now the vanquished view,Wounded and old, and broken-hearted too;Reproach has fallen upon me, and has daredTo call me Persian—that I disregard;For I'm an Arab still, and scorn the sneerOf braggart fools, unused to shield and spear.But let that pass. I now, o'ercome, and weak,And prostrate, pardon from the victor seek:Thy slave am I, obedient to thy will,Ready thy sternest purpose to fulfil;But if with Lailí I consent to part,Wilt thou blot out all vengeance from thy heart?Then speak at once, and thy behest declare:I will not flinch, though it my soul may tear.My daughter shall be brought at thy command;Let the red flames ascend from blazing brand,Waiting their victim, crackling in the air,And Lailí duteously shall perish there.Or, if thou'dst rather see the maiden bleed,This thirsty sword shall do the dreadful deed;Dissever at one blow that lovely head,Her sinless blood by her own father shed!In all things thou shalt find me faithful, true,Thy slave obsequious,—what wouldst have me do?But mark me; I am not to be beguiled;I will not to a demon give my child;I will not to a madman's wild embraceConsign the pride and honour of my race,And wed her to contempt and foul disgrace.I will not sacrifice my tribe's fair fame,Nor taint with obloquy her virtuous name.Has honour on an Arab heart no claim?Better be overwhelmed by adverse fateThan yield up honour, e'en for kingly state.Through all Arabia is her virtue known;Her beauty matched by heavenly charms alone.I'd rather in a monster be enshrinedThan bear a name detested by mankind.What! wed a wretch, and earn my country's ban?A dog were better than a demon-man.A dog's bite heals, but human gnawings never;The festering poison-wounds remain for ever.'

Thus spake the father, and in Noufal's breastExcited feelings not to be repressed:'I hoped to win consent,' he said—'But now that anxious hope is dead,And thou and thine may quit the field,Still armed with khanjer, sword, and shield;Horseman and elder. Thus in vainBlood has bedewed this thirsty plain.'

When Majnún this conclusion hears,He flies incensed to Noufal, and with tearsWildly exclaims—' The dawn, my generous friend!Promised this day in happiness would end;But thou hast let the gazelle slip away,And me defrauded of my beauteous prey.Near where Forát's bright stream rolls on, reclined,Staunching my wounds, hope soothed my torturedmind,And gave me Lailí; now that hope is crossed,And life's most valued charm for ever lost.'

Noufal with heavy heart now homeward bentHis way, and Majnún with him sorrowing went;And there again the pitying chieftain stroveTo calm the withering pangs of hopeless love;To bless, with gentleness and tender care,The wounded spirit sinking in despair:But vain his efforts; mountain, wood, and plain,Soon heard the maniac's piercing woes again;Escaped from listening ear, and watchful eye,Lonely again in desert wild to lie.