Book V
When Thalaba from adoration rose,The air was cool, the skyWith welcome clouds o'ercast,That soon came down in rain.He lifted up his fevered face to heaven,And bared his head and stretched his handsTo that delightful shower,And felt the coolness flow thro' every limbFreshening his powers of life.
A loud quick panting! Thalaba looks up,He starts, and his instinctive handGrasps the knife hilt: for close besideA Tyger passes him.An indolent and languid eyeThe passing Tyger turned;His head was hanging down,His dry tongue lolling low,And the short panting of his fevered breathCame thro' his hot parched nostrils painfully.The young Arabian knewThe purport of his hurried pace,And following him in hopeSaw joyful from afarThe Tyger stoop and drink.
The desert Pelican had built her nestIn that deep solitude.And now returned from distant flightFraught with the river stream,Her load of water had disburthened there.Her young in the refreshing bathSported all wantonness;Dipt down their callow heads,Filled the swoln membrane from their plumeless throatPendant, and bills yet soft,And buoyant with arched breast,Plied in unpractised strokeThe oars of their broad feet.They, as the spotted prowler of the wildLaps the cool wave, around their mother croud,And nestle underneath her outspread wings.The spotted prowler of the wildLapt the cool wave, and satiate from the nest,Guiltless of blood, withdrew.
The mother bird had moved notBut cowering o'er her nestlings,Sate confident and fearless,And watched the wonted guest.But when the human visitant approached,The alarmed PelicanRetiring from that hostile shape,Gathers her young, and menaces with wings,And forward thrusts her threatening neck,Its feathers ruffling in her wrath,Bold with maternal fear.Thalaba drank and in the water-skinHoarded the precious element.Not all he took, but in the large nest leftStore that sufficed for life.And journeying onward blest the Carrier Bird,And blest in thankfulness,Their common Father, provident for all.
With strength renewed and confident in faithThe son of Hodeirah proceeds;Till after the long toil of many a day,At length Bagdad appeared,The City of his search.He hastening to the gateRoams o'er the city with insatiate eyes,Its thousand dwellings o'er whose level roofsFair cupolas appeared, and high-domed mosquesAnd pointed minarets, and cypress grovesEvery where scattered in unwithering green.
Thou too art fallen, Bagdad! City of Peace,Thou too hast had thy day!And loathsome Ignorance and brute ServitudePollute thy dwellings now,Erst for the Mighty and the Wise renowned.O yet illustrious for remembered fame,Thy founder the Victorious, and the pompOf Haroun, for whose name by blood defiled,Jahia's, and the blameless Barmecides',Genius hath wrought salvation; and the yearsWhen Science with the good Al-Maimon dwelt;So one day may the Crescent from thy MosquesBe plucked by Wisdom, when the enlightened armOf Europe conquers to redeem the East.
Then Pomp and Pleasure dwelt within her wallsThe Merchants of the East and of the WestMet in her arched Bazars;All day the active poorShowered a cool comfort o'er her thronging streets;Labour was busy in her looms;Thro' all her open gatesLong troops of laden Camels lined her roads,And Tigris on his tameless current boreArmenian harvests to her multitudes.
But not in sumptuous CaravansaryThe adventurer idles there,Nor satiates wonder with her pomp and wealth;A long day's distance from the wallsStands ruined Babylon!The time of action is at hand,The hope that for so many a yearHath been his daily thought, his nightly dream,Stings to more restlessness.He loathes all lingering that delays the hourWhen, full of glory, from his quest returned,He on the pillar of the Tent belovedShall hang Hodeirah's sword.
The many-coloured domesYet wore one dusky hue,The Cranes upon the MosqueKept their night-clatter still,When thro' the gate the early Traveller past.And when at evening o'er the swampy plainThe Bittern's Boom came far,Distinct in darkness seenAbove the low horizon's lingering lightRose the near ruins of old Babylon.
Once from her lofty walls the CharioteerLooked down on swarming myriads; once she flungHer arches o'er Euphrates conquered tide,And thro' her brazen portals when she pouredHer armies forth, the distant nations lookedAs men who watched the thunder-cloud in fearLest it should burst above them. She was fallen,The Queen of Cities, Babylon was fallen!Low lay her bulwarks; the black scorpion baskedIn the palace courts, within her sanctuaryThe She Wolf hid her whelps.Is yonder huge and shapeless heap, what onceHad been the aerial Gardens, height on heightRising like Medias mountains crowned with wood,Work of imperial dotage? where the fameOf Belus? where the Golden Image now,Which at the sound of dulcimer and lute,Cornet and sackbut, harp and psaltery,The Assyrian slaves adored?A labyrinth of ruins, BabylonSpreads o'er the blasted plain:The wandering Arab never sets his tentWithin her walls; the Shepherd eyes afarHer evil Towers, and devious drives his flock.Alone unchanged, a free and bridgeless tideEuphrates rolls along,Eternal Nature's work.
Thro' the broken portal,Over weedy fragments,Thalaba went his way.Cautious he trod, and feltThe dangerous ground before him with his bow.The Chacal started at his steps,The Stork, alarmed at sound of man,From her broad nest upon the old pillar top,Affrighted fled on flapping wings.The Adder in her haunts disturbedLanced at the intruding staff her arrowy tongue.
Twilight and moonshine dimly mingling gaveAn aweful light obscure,Evening not wholly closed,The Moon still pale and faint.An aweful light obscure,Broken by many a mass of blackest shade;Long column stretching dark thro' weeds and moss,Broad length of lofty wallWhose windows lay in light,And of their former shape, low-arched or square,Rude outline on the earthFigured, with long grass fringed.
Reclined against a column's broken shaft,Unknowing whitherward to bend his wayHe stood and gazed around.The Ruins closed him in,It seemed as if no foot of manFor ages had intruded there.Soon at approaching stepStarting, he turned and sawA warrior in the moon beam drawing near.Forward the Stranger cameAnd with a curious eyePerused the Arab youth."And who art thou," he cried,"That at an hour like this"Wanderest in Babylon?"A way-bewildered traveller, seekest thou"The ruinous shelter here?"Or comest thou to hide"The plunder of the night?"Or hast thou spells to make"These ruins, yawning from their rooted base"Disclose their secret wealth?"
The youth replied, "nor wandering traveller"Nor robber of the night"Nor skilled in spells am I."I seek the Angels here,"Haruth and Maruth. Stranger in thy turn,"Why wanderest thou in Babylon,"And who art thou, the Questioner?"
The man was fearless, and the tempered prideThat toned the voice of ThalabaDispleased not him, himself of haughty heart.Heedless he answered, "knowest thou"Their cave of punishment?"
Art thou firm of footTo tread the ways of danger?
Young Arab! if thou hast a heart can beatEvenly in danger, if thy bowels yearn notWith human fears, at scenes where undisgracedThe soldier tried in battle might look backAnd tremble, follow me!... for I am boundInto that cave of horrors.ThalabaGazed on his comrade, he was young, of portStately and strong; belike his face had pleasedA woman's eye, yet the youth read in itUnrestrained passions, the obdurate soulBold in all evil daring; and it taught,By Nature's irresistible instinct, doubtWell timed and wary. Of himself assured,Fearless of man, and confident in faith,"Lead on!" cried Thalaba.Mohareb led the way;And thro' the ruined streets,And thro' the farther gateThey past in silence on.
What sound is borne on the wind?Is it the storm that shakesThe thousand oaks of the forest?But Thalaba's long locksFlow down his shoulders moveless, and the windIn his loose mantle raises not one fold.Is it the river's roarDashed down some rocky descent?Along the level plainEuphrates glides unheard.What sound disturbs the night,Loud as the summer forest in the storm,As the river that roars among rocks?
And what the heavy cloudThat hangs upon the vale,Thick as the mist o'er a well-watered plainSettling at evening, when the cooler airLets its day-vapours fall;Black as the sulphur-cloudThat thro' Vesuvius, or from Hecla's mouthRolls up, ascending from the infernal fires.
From Ait's bitumen lakeThat heavy cloud ascends;That everlasting roarFrom where its gushing springsBoil their black billows up.Silent the Arab youth,Along the verge of that wide lake,Followed Mohareb's wayTowards a ridge of rocks that banked its side.There from a cave with torrent force,And everlasting roar,The black bitumen rolled.The moonlight lay upon the rocks.Their crags were visible,The shade of jutting cliffs,And where broad lichens whitened some smooth spot,And where the ivy hungIts flowing tresses down.A little way within the caveThe moonlight fell, glossing the sable tideThat gushed tumultuous out.A little way it entered, then the rockArching its entrance, and the winding way,Darkened the unseen depths.No eye of mortal manIf unenabled by enchanted spell,Had pierced those fearful depths.For mingling with the roarOf the portentous torrent, oft were heardShrieks, and wild yells that scaredThe brooding Eagle from her midnight nest.The affrighted countrymenCall it the Mouth of Hell;And ever when their way leads nearThey hurry with averted eyes,And dropping their beads fastPronounce the holy name.
There pausing at the cavern mouthMohareb turned to Thalaba,"Now darest thou enter in?""Behold!" the youth replied,And leading in his turn the dangerous waySet foot within the cave.
"Stay Madman!" cried his comrade. "Wouldst thou rush"Headlong to certain death?"Where are thine arms to meet"The Guardian of the Passage?" a loud shriekThat shook along the windings of the caveScattered the youth's reply.
Mohareb when the long reechoing ceasedExclaimed, "Fate favoured thee,"Young Arab! when she wrote upon thy brow"The meeting of to-night;"Else surely had thy name"This hour been blotted from the Book of Life!"
So saying from beneathHis cloak a bag he drew;"Young Arab! thou art brave," he cried,"But thus to rush on danger unprepared,"As lions spring upon the hunter's spear,"Is blind, brute courage. Zohak keeps the cave,"Giantly tyrant of primeval days."Force cannot win the passage." Thus he saidAnd from his wallet drew a human handShrivelled, and dry, and black,And fitting as he spakeA taper in its hold,Pursued: "a murderer on the stake had died,"I drove the Vulture from his limbs, and lopt"The hand that did the murder, and drew up"The tendon-strings to close its grasp,"And in the sun and wind"Parched it, nine weeks exposed."The Taper,... but not here the place to impart,"Nor hast thou done the rites,"That fit thee to partake the mystery."Look! it burns clear, but with the air around"Its dead ingredients mingle deathiness."This when the Keeper of the Cave shall feel,"Maugre the doom of Heaven,"The salutary spell"Shall lull his penal agony to sleep"And leave the passage free."
Thalaba answered not.Nor was there time for answer now,For lo! Mohareb leads,And o'er the vaulted caveTrembles the accursed taper's feeble light.There where the narrowing chasmRose loftier in the hill,Stood Zohak, wretched man, condemned to keepHis Cave of punishment.His was the frequent screamWhich far away the prowling Chacal heardAnd howled in terror back:For from his shoulders grewTwo snakes of monster size,That ever at his headAimed eager their keen teethTo satiate raving hunger with his brain.He in the eternal conflict oft would seizeTheir swelling necks, and in his giant graspBruise them, and rend their flesh with bloody nails,And howl for agony,Feeling the pangs he gave, for of himselfInseparable parts, his torturers grew.
To him approaching nowMohareb held the withered armThe Taper of enchanted power.The unhallowed spell in hand unholy heldNow ministered to mercy, heavilyThe wretche's eyelids closed,And welcome and unfeltLike the release of deathA sudden sleep fell on his vital powers.
Yet tho' along the caveLay Zohak's giant limbs,The twin-born serpents kept the narrow pass,Kindled their fiery eyes,Darted their tongues of terror, and rolled outTheir undulating length,Like the long streamers of some gallant shipBuoyed on the wavy air,Still struggling to flow on and still withheld.The scent of living fleshInflamed their appetite.
Prepared for all the perils of the caveMohareb came. He from his wallet drewTwo human heads yet warm.O hard of heart! whom not the visible powerOf retributive Justice, and the doomOf Zohak in his sight,Deterred from equal crime!Two human heads, yet warm, he laidBefore the scaly guardians of the pass.They to their wonted banquet of old yearsTurned eager, and the narrow pass was free.
And now before their pathThe opening cave dilates;They reach a spacious vaultWhere the black river fountains burst their way.Now as a whirlwind's forceHad centered on the spring,The gushing flood rolled up;And now the deadened roarEchoed beneath them, as its sudden pauseLeft wide a dark abyss,Adown whose fathomless gulphs the eye was lost.Blue flames that hovered o'er the springsFlung thro' the Cavern their uncertain lightNow waving on the waves they lay,And now their fiery curlsFlowed in long tresses up,And now contracting glowed with whiter heat.Then up they poured againDarting pale flashes thro' the tremulous air;The flames, the red and yellow sulphur-smoke,And the black darkness of the vaultCommingling indivisibly.
"Here," quoth Mohareb, "do the Angels dwell,"The Teachers of Enchantment." ThalabaThen raised his voice and cried,"Haruth and Maruth, hear me! not with rites"Accursed, to disturb your penitence"And learn forbidden lore,"Repentant Angels, seek I your abode."Me Allah and the Prophet mission here,"Their chosen servant I."Tell me the Talisman."..."And dost thou think""Mohareb cried, as with a scornful smileHe glanced upon his comrade, "dost thou think"To trick them of their secret? for the dupes"Of human-kind keep this lip-righteousness!"'Twill serve thee in the Mosque"And in the Market-place,"But Spirits view the heart."Only by strong and torturing spells enforced,"Those stubborn Angels teach the charm"By which we must descend."
"Descend!" said Thalaba.But then the wrinkling smileForsook Mohareb's cheek,And darker feelings settled on his brow."Now by my soul," quoth he, "and I believe"Idiot! that I have led"Some camel-kneed prayer-monger thro' the cave!"What brings thee hither? thou shouldest have a hut"By some Saint's grave beside the public way,"There to less-knowing fools"Retail thy Koran scraps,"And in thy turn, die civet-like at last"In the dung-perfume of thy sanctity!..."Ye whom I seek! that, led by me,"Feet uninitiate tread"Your threshold, this atones!"Fit sacrifice he falls!"And forth he flashed his scymetar,And raised the murderous blow.
Then ceased his power; his lifted arm,Suspended by the spell,Hung impotent to strike."Poor Hypocrite!" cried he,"And this then is thy faith"In Allah and the Prophet! they had failed"To save thee, but for Magic's stolen aid;"Yea, they had left thee yonder Serpent's meal,"But that, in prudent cowardice,"The chosen Servant of the Lord came in,"Safe follower of my path!"
"Blasphemer! dost thou boast of guiding me?"Kindling with pride quoth Thalaba,"Blindly the wicked work"The righteous will of Heaven."Sayest thou that diffident of God,"In magic spell I trust?"Liar! let witness this!"And he drew off Abdaldar's RingAnd cast it in the gulph.A skinny hand came upAnd caught it as it fell,And peals of devilish laughter shook the Cave.
Then joy suffused Mohareb's cheek,And Thalaba beheldThe blue blade gleam, descending to destroy.
The undefended youthSprung forward, and he seizedMohareb in his grasp,And grappled with him breast to breast.Sinewy and large of limb Mohareb was,Broad-shouldered, and his jointsKnit firm, and in the strifeOf danger practised well.Time had not thus matured young Thalaba:But now the enthusiast mind,The inspiration of his soulPoured vigour like the strengthOf madness thro' his frame.Mohareb reels before him! he right onWith knee, with breast, with arm,Presses the staggering foe!And now upon the brinkOf that tremendous spring,There with fresh impulse and a rush of forceHe thrust him from his hold.The upwhirling flood receivedMohareb, then, absorbed,Engulphed him in the abyss.
Thalaba's breath came fast,And panting he breathed outA broken prayer of thankfulness.At length he spake and said,"Haruth and Maruth! are ye here?"Or has that evil guide misled my search?"I, Thalaba, the Servant of the Lord,"Invoke you. Hear me Angels! so may Heaven"Accept and mitigate your penitence."I go to root from earth the Sorcerer brood,"Tell me the needful Talisman!"
Thus as he spake, recumbent on the rockBeyond the black abyss,Their forms grew visible.A settled sorrow sate upon their brows,Sorrow alone, for trace of guilt and shameNo more remained; and gradual as by prayerThe sin was purged away,Their robe of glory, purified of stainResumed the lustre of its native light.
In awe the youth received the answering voice,"Son of Hodeirah! thou hast proved it here;"The Talisman is Faith."
LONDON:
Words in this poem 90
- indolent a.
- Free from toil, pain, or trouble. [Pref. in- not + L. dolens, -entis, p. pr. of dolere to feel pain: cf. F. indolent. See Dolorous.]
- purport n.
- Design or tendency; meaning; import; tenor. [OF. purport; pur, pour, for (L. pro) + porter to bear, carry. See Port demeanor.]
- afar adv.
- At, to, or from a great distance; far away; -- often used with from preceding, or off following; as, he was seen from afar; I saw him afar off. [Pref. a-.(for on or of) + far.]
- fraught n.
- A freight; a cargo. [OE.fraight, fraght; akin to Dan. fragt, Sw. frakt, D. vracht, G. fracht, cf. OHG. fr merit, reward; perh. from corresponding to E. for + The root of E. own. Cf.]
- callow a.
- Destitute of feathers; naked; unfledged. [OE. calewe, calu, bald, AS. calu; akin to D. kaal, OHG. chalo, G. Kuhl; cf. L. calvus.]
- swoln
- Contraction of Swollen, p. p.
- plumeless a.
- Without plumes.
- prowler n.
- One that prowls. Thomson.
- nestle v. i.
- To make and occupy a nest; to nest. [AS. nestlian.]
- outspread v. t.
- To spread out; to expand; -- usually as a past part. or adj.
- satiate a.
- Filled to satiety; glutted; sated; -- followed by with or of. [L. satiatus, p. p. of satiare to satisfy, from sat, satis, enough. See Sad, a., and cf. Sate.]
- guiltless a.
- Free from guilt; innocent.
- sate v. t.
- To satisfy the desire or appetite of; to satiate; to glut; to surfeit. [Probably shortened fr. satiate: cf. L. satus full. See Satiate.]
- wonted a.
- Accustomed; customary; usual.
- visitant n.
- One who visits; a guest; a visitor. [L. visitans, -antis; p. pr.: cf. F. visitant.]
- maternal a.
- Of or pertaining to a mother; becoming to a mother; motherly; as, maternal love; maternal tenderness. [F. maternel, L. maternus, fr. mater mother. See Mother.]
- drank n.
- Wild oats, or darnel grass. See Drake a plant. [Cf. 3d Drake.]
- insatiate a.
- Insatiable; as, insatiate thirst. [L. insatiatus.]
- hast
- , 2d pers. sing. pres. of. Fave, contr. of havest.
- tameless a.
- Incapable of being tamed; wild; untamed; untamable. Bp. Hall.
- caravansary n.
- A kind of inn, in the East, where caravans rest at night, being a large, rude, unfurnished building, surrounding a court. [F. caravansérai, fr. Per. karwansara\'8b; karwan caravan + -sara\'8b palace, large house, inn.]
- wealth n.
- Weal; welfare; prosperity; good. [OE. welthe, from wele; cf. D. weelde luxury. See Weal prosperity.]
- nightly a.
- Of or pertaining to the night, or to every night; happening or done by night, or every night; as, nightly shades; he kept nightly vigils.
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
- clatter v. i.
- To make a rattling sound by striking hard bodies together; to make a succession of abrupt, rattling sounds. [AS. cla a rattle, akin to D. klateren to rattle. Cf. Clack.]
- swampy a.
- Consisting of swamp; like a swamp; low, wet, and spongy; as, swampy land.
- charioteer n.
- One who drives a chariot.
- yonder adv.
- At a distance, but within view. [OE. yonder, ýonder; cf. OD. ginder, Goth. jaindr there. Yond, adv.]
- dotage n.
- Feebleness or imbecility of understanding or mind, particularly in old age; the childishness of old age; senility; as, a venerable man, now in his dotage. [From Dote, v. i.]
- sackbut n.
- A brass wind instrument, like a bass trumpet, so contrived that it can be lengthened or shortened according to the tone required; -- said to be the same as the trombone. Moore (Encyc. of Music). [F. saquebute, OF. saqueboute a sackbut. earlier, a sort of hook attached to the end of a lance used by foot soldiers to unhorse cavalrymen; prop. meaning, pull ]
- psaltery n.
- A stringed instrument of music used by the Hebrews, the form of which is not known. [OE. sautrie, OF. psalterie, F. psaltérion, L. psalterium psaltery, psalter, from Gr. Psalm, Psalter.]
- blasted a.
- Blighted; withered.
- devious a.
- Out of a straight line; winding; varying from directness; as, a devious path or way. [L. devius; de + via way. See Viaduct.]
- bridgeless a.
- Having no bridge; not bridged.
- weedy a.
- Of or pertaining to weeds; consisting of weeds.
- went n.
- Course; way; path; journey; direction.
- arrowy a.
- Consisting of arrows.
- moonshine n.
- The light of the moon.
- dimly adv.
- In a dim or obscure manner; not brightly or clearly; with imperfect sight.
- reclined a.
- Falling or turned downward; reclinate.
- whitherward adv.
- In what direction; toward what or which place. R. of Brunne.
- curious a.
- Difficult to please or satisfy; solicitous to be correct; careful; scrupulous; nice; exact. [OF. curios, curius, F. curieux, L. curiosus careful, inquisitive, fr. cura care. See Cure.]
- questioner n.
- One who asks questions; an inquirer.
- haughty a.
- High; lofty; bold. [OE. hautein, F. hautain, fr. haut high, OF. also halt, fr. L. altus. See Altitude.]
- yearn v. t.
- To pain; to grieve; to vex. [Also earn, ern; probably a corruption of OE. ermen to grieve, AS. ierman, yrman, or geierman, geyrman, fr. earm wretched, poor; akin to D. & G. arm, Icel. armr,]
- belike adv.
- It is likely or probably; perhaps. -- Be*like"ly, adv. [Pref. be- (for by) + like.]
- moveless a.
- Motionless; fixed.
- unheard a.
- Not heard; not perceived by the ear; as, words unheard by those present.
- vale n.
- A tract of low ground, or of land between hills; a valley. [OE. val, F. val, L. vallis; perhaps akin to Gr. Avalanche, Vail to lower, Valley.]
- settling n.
- The act of one who, or that which, settles; the act of establishing one's self, of colonizing, subsiding, adjusting, etc.
- cooler n.
- That which cools, or abates heat or excitement.
- jutting a.
- Projecting, as corbels, cornices, etc.
- sable n.
- A carnivorous animal of the Weasel family (Mustela zibellina) native of the northern latitudes of Europe, Asia, and America, -- noted for its fine, soft, and valuable fur. [OF. sable, F. zibeline sable (in sense 4), LL. sabellum; cf. D. sabel, Dan. sabel, zobel, Sw. sabel, sobel, G. zobel; all fr. Russ. sóbole.]
- unseen a.
- Not seen or discovered.
- enchanted a.
- Under the power of enchantment; possessed or exercised by enchanters; as, an enchanted castle.
- portentous a.
- Of the nature of a portent; containing portents; foreschadowing, esp. foreschadowing ill; ominous. [L. portentosus.]
- averted a.
- Turned away, esp. as an expression of feeling; also, offended; unpropitious.
- shook v. t.
- To pack, as staves, in a shook.
- favoured a.
- Countenanced; aided; regarded with kidness; as, a favored friend.
- wrote v. i.
- To root with the snout. See 1st Root. [OE. wroten. See 1st Root.]
- giantly a.
- Appropriate to a giant. Usher.
- drove n.
- A collection of cattle driven, or cattle collected for driving; a number of animals, as oxen, sheep, or swine, driven in a body. [AS. draf, fr. drifan to drive. See Drive.]
- maugre v. t.
- To defy. J. Webster.
- lull v. t.
- To cause to rest by soothing influences; to compose; to calm; to soothe; to quiet. [Akin to OD. lullen to sing to sleep, G. lullen, Dan. lulle, Sw. lulla; all of imitative origin. Cf. Loll, Lollard.]
- narrowing n.
- The act of contracting, or of making or becoming less in breadth or extent.
- prowling a.
- Accustomed to prowl, or engaged in roving stealthily, as for prey.
- unhallowed a.
- Not consecrated; hence, profane; unholy; impious; wicked. [Pref. un- not + hallowed.]
- unholy a.
- Not holy; unhallowed; not consecrated; hence, profane; wicked; impious.
- adown adv.
- From a higher to a lower situation; downward; down, to or on the ground. [OE. adun, adoun, adune. AS. of dune off the hill. See Down.]
- fathomless a.
- Incapable of being fathomed; immeasurable; that can not be sounded.
- indivisibly adv.
- In an indivisible manner.
- quoth v. t.
- Said; spoke; uttered; -- used only in the first and third persons in the past tenses, and always followed by its nominative, the word or words said being the object; as, quoth I. quoth he. [AS.cweedhan, imp cwæedh, pl. cwædon; akin to OS. queedhan, OHG. quethan, quedan, Icel. kveedha, Goth. qiþan. sq. root22. Cf. Bequeath.]
- dwell v. i.
- To delay; to linger. [OE. dwellen, dwelien, to err, linger, AS. dwellan to deceive, hinder, delay, dwelian to err; akin to Icel. dvelja to delay, tarry, Sw. dväljas to dwell, Dan. dv]
- repentant a.
- Penitent; sorry for sin. [F. repentant.]
- abode n.
- Act of waiting; delay. [OE. abad, abood, fr. abiden to abide. See Abide. For the change of vowel, cf. abode, imp. of abide.]
- allah n.
- The name of the Supreme Being, in use among the Arabs and the Mohammedans generally. [contr. fr. the article al the + ilah God.]
- righteousness n.
- The quality or state of being righteous; holiness; purity; uprightness; rectitude. [AS. rihtwisnes.]
- idiot n.
- A man in private station, as distinguished from one holding a public office. [F. idiot, L. idiota an uneducated, ignorant, ill- informed person, Gr. Idiom.]
- atones adv.
- Etym: [See At one.]
- blasphemer n.
- One who blasphemes.
- blindly adv.
- Without sight, discernment, or understanding; without thought, investigation, knowledge, or purpose of one's own.
- diffident a.
- Wanting confidence in others; distrustful. [L. diffidens, -entis, p. pr. of diffidere; dif- = dis + fidere to trust; akin to fides faith. See Faith, and cf. Defy.]
- liar n.
- A person who knowingly utters falsehood; one who lies. [OE. liere. See Lie to falsify.]
- skinny a.
- Consisting, or chiefly consisting, of skin; wanting flesh.
- strife n.
- The act of striving; earnest endeavor. [OF. estrif. See Strive.]
- vigour v. t.
- To invigorate. Feltham.
- brink n.
- The edge, margin, or border of a steep place, as of a precipice; a bank or edge, as of a river or pit; a verge; a border; as, the brink of a chasm. Also Fig. [Dan. brink edge, verge; akin to Sw. brink declivity, hill, Icel. brekka; cf. LG. brink a grassy hill, W. bryn hill, bryncyn hillock.]
- tremendous a.
- Fitted to excite fear or terror; such as may astonish or terrify by its magnitude, force, or violence; terrible; dreadful; as, a tremendous wind; a tremendous shower; a tremendous shock or fall. [L. tremendus that is to be trembled at, fearful, fr. tremere to tremble. See Tremble.]
- needful a.
- Full of need; in need or want; needy; distressing.
- lustre n.
- A period of five years; a lustrum. [L. lustrum: cf. F. lustre.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Book V is in the public domain. This text is taken from Thalaba the Destroyer, Project Gutenberg ebook #39804; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Robert Southey, Book V, in Thalaba the Destroyer (1801), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #39804, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/southey-thalaba/book-v.html, id L12176.
Form and metre
Book V is 518 lines in 39 verse paragraphs. It is unrhymed, as far as the pronouncing dictionary can tell. 94% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 7.9 syllables. 39 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 41% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 ---AA---- rose · sky · o'ercast · rainA · heavenA · hands · shower · limb · life
- 3 A---------A--B--BA- nestA · solitude · flight · stream · there · bath · wantonness · heads · throat · soft · breastA · stroke · feet · wildB · croud · wings · wildB · nestA · withdrew
- 10 A-BC-ADD----------C-----B-- charioteerA · flung · tideB · pouredC · looked · fearA · fallenD · fallenD · basked · sanctuary · whelps · once · height · wood · fame · now · lute · psaltery · adoredC · babylon · plain · tent · afar · flock · tideB · along · work
- 12 -A--A------- gave · obscureA · closed · faint · obscureA · shade · moss · wall · light · square · earth · fringed
- 13 ---AAB--B---C---BC---- shaft · way · around · inA · manA · thereB · step · saw · nearB · came · eye · youth · criedC · this · babylon · thou · hereB · hideC · night · make · base · wealth
- 17 ------A--------A---- beat · not · undisgraced · back · bound · horrors · thalabaA · port · pleased · it · soul · taught · doubt · assured · faith · thalabaA · way · streets · gate · on
- 18 A--BA-------B windA · shakes · forest · locksB · windA · fold · roar · descent · plain · unheard · night · storm · rocksB
- 19 A----A-- cloudA · vale · plain · air · fall · cloudA · mouth · fires
- 24 --A---------A--------------- beneath · drew · criedA · unprepared · spear · cave · days · said · hand · black · spake · hold · diedA · lopt · up · grasp · wind · exposed · impart · rites · mystery · around · deathiness · feel · heaven · spell · sleep · free
- 25 -----A---A--B---------B not · now · leads · cave · light · chasmA · hill · keep · punishment · screamA · heard · back · grewB · size · head · teeth · brain · seize · grasp · nails · agony · himself · grewB
- 29 --AB--C------B-C----A- path · dilates · vaultA · wayB · force · spring · upC · roar · pause · abyss · lost · springs · light · layB · curls · upC · heat · again · air · smoke · vaultA · indivisibly
- 30 ----------A-A-B-B---- dwell · thalaba · cried · rites · penitence · lore · abode · here · i · talisman · thinkA · smile · thinkA · dupes · righteousnessB · mosque · placeB · heart · enforced · charm · descend
- 31 -----A--------A---- thalaba · smile · cheek · brow · believe · ledA · cave · hut · way · fools · scraps · last · sanctity · me · treadA · atones · falls · scymetar · blow
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| When Thalaba from adoration rose, | 10 | ······˘/˘· |
| The air was cool, the sky | 6 | ······ |
| With welcome clouds o'ercast, | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| That soon came down in rain. | 6 | ······ |
| He lifted up his fevered face to heaven, | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··/ |
| And bared his head and stretched his hands | 8 | ········ |
| To that delightful shower, | 7 | ··˘/˘/˘ |
| And felt the coolness flow thro' every limb | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Freshening his powers of life. | 6 | /˘·/·· |
| A loud quick panting! Thalaba looks up, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| He starts, and his instinctive hand | 8 | ····˘/˘· |
| Grasps the knife hilt: for close beside | 8 | ······˘/ |
| A Tyger passes him. | 6 | ·/˘/˘· |
| An indolent and languid eye | 7 | ·/˘·/˘· |
| The passing Tyger turned; | 6 | ·/˘/˘· |
| His head was hanging down, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| His dry tongue lolling low, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| And the short panting of his fevered breath | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Came thro' his hot parched nostrils painfully. | 9 | ·····/˘/˘ |
| The young Arabian knew | 6 | ··˘/˘· |
| The purport of his hurried pace, | 8 | ·/···/˘· |
| And following him in hope | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Saw joyful from afar | 6 | ·/˘·˘/ |
| The Tyger stoop and drink. | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| The desert Pelican had built her nest | 9 | ·/˘/˘···· |
| In that deep solitude. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| And now returned from distant flight | 8 | ··˘/·/˘· |
| Fraught with the river stream, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Her load of water had disburthened there. | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Her young in the refreshing bath | 8 | ····˘/˘· |
| Sported all wantonness; | 6 | /˘·/˘˘ |
| Dipt down their callow heads, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Filled the swoln membrane from their plumeless throat | 10 | ···/···/˘· |
| Pendant, and bills yet soft, | 6 | /˘···· |
| And buoyant with arched breast, | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Plied in unpractised stroke | 6 | ······ |
| The oars of their broad feet. | 6 | ······ |
| They, as the spotted prowler of the wild | 9 | ···/˘/··· |
| Laps the cool wave, around their mother croud, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| And nestle underneath her outspread wings. | 10 | ·/˘·˘/·˘/· |
| The spotted prowler of the wild | 7 | ·/˘/··· |
| Lapt the cool wave, and satiate from the nest, | 11 | ·····/˘˘··· |
| Guiltless of blood, withdrew. | 6 | /˘··˘/ |
| The mother bird had moved not | 7 | ·/˘···· |
| But cowering o'er her nestlings, | 7 | ·/˘··/˘ |
| Sate confident and fearless, | 7 | ·/˘˘·/˘ |
| And watched the wonted guest. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| But when the human visitant approached, | 10 | ···/˘/˘˘˘/ |
| The alarmed Pelican | 6 | ·˘//˘˘ |
| Retiring from that hostile shape, | 8 | ˘/˘··/˘· |
| Gathers her young, and menaces with wings, | 9 | /˘···/˘·· |
| And forward thrusts her threatening neck, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Its feathers ruffling in her wrath, | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| Bold with maternal fear. | 6 | ··˘/˘· |
| Thalaba drank and in the water-skin | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Hoarded the precious element. | 7 | /˘·/˘/˘ |
| Not all he took, but in the large nest left | 10 | ·········· |
| Store that sufficed for life. | 6 | ··˘/·· |
| And journeying onward blest the Carrier Bird, | 10 | ·/˘/˘··/˘· |
| And blest in thankfulness, | 6 | ······ |
| Their common Father, provident for all. | 9 | ·/˘/˘/˘·· |
| With strength renewed and confident in faith | 9 | ··˘/·/˘·· |
| The son of Hodeirah proceeds; | 8 | ······˘/ |
| Till after the long toil of many a day, | 10 | ·······/·· |
| At length Bagdad appeared, | 6 | ··/˘˘/ |
| The City of his search. | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| He hastening to the gate | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Roams o'er the city with insatiate eyes, | 11 | ···/˘·˘/˘˘· |
| Its thousand dwellings o'er whose level roofs | 10 | ·/˘/˘··/˘· |
| Fair cupolas appeared, and high-domed mosques | 10 | ·˘/˘˘/···· |
| And pointed minarets, and cypress groves | 10 | ·/˘·˘/·/˘· |
| Every where scattered in unwithering green. | 11 | /˘·/˘······ |
| Thou too art fallen, Bagdad! City of Peace, | 11 | ···/˘/˘/˘·· |
| Thou too hast had thy day! | 6 | ······ |
| And loathsome Ignorance and brute Servitude | 10 | ·/˘/˘··/˘· |
| Pollute thy dwellings now, | 6 | ˘/·/˘· |
| Erst for the Mighty and the Wise renowned. | 10 | ···/˘···˘/ |
| O yet illustrious for remembered fame, | 10 | ··˘/˘·˘/˘· |
| Thy founder the Victorious, and the pomp | 9 | ·/·˘/˘··· |
| Of Haroun, for whose name by blood defiled, | 10 | ·········· |
| Jahia's, and the blameless Barmecides', | 9 | ····/˘··· |
| Genius hath wrought salvation; and the years | 10 | /˘··˘/˘··· |
| When Science with the good Al-Maimon dwelt; | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| So one day may the Crescent from thy Mosques | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Be plucked by Wisdom, when the enlightened arm | 11 | ···/˘··˘/˘· |
| Of Europe conquers to redeem the East. | 10 | ·/˘/˘·˘/·· |
| Then Pomp and Pleasure dwelt within her walls | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| The Merchants of the East and of the West | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Met in her arched Bazars; | 6 | ····˘/ |
| All day the active poor | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Showered a cool comfort o'er her thronging streets; | 10 | /··/˘··/˘· |
| Labour was busy in her looms; | 8 | /··/˘··· |
| Thro' all her open gates | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Long troops of laden Camels lined her roads, | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| And Tigris on his tameless current bore | 10 | ·/˘··/˘/˘· |
| Armenian harvests to her multitudes. | 10 | ˘/˘/˘··/˘· |
| But not in sumptuous Caravansary | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| The adventurer idles there, | 7 | ·˘/˘/˘· |
| Nor satiates wonder with her pomp and wealth; | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| A long day's distance from the walls | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Stands ruined Babylon! | 6 | ·/˘/˘· |
| The time of action is at hand, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| The hope that for so many a year | 8 | ·····/·· |
| Hath been his daily thought, his nightly dream, | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Stings to more restlessness. | 6 | ···/˘˘ |
| He loathes all lingering that delays the hour | 10 | ···/˘·˘/·/ |
| When, full of glory, from his quest returned, | 10 | ···/˘···˘/ |
| He on the pillar of the Tent beloved | 10 | ···/˘···˘/ |
| Shall hang Hodeirah's sword. | 6 | ······ |
| The many-coloured domes | 6 | ·/˘/˘· |
| Yet wore one dusky hue, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| The Cranes upon the Mosque | 6 | ······ |
| Kept their night-clatter still, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| When thro' the gate the early Traveller past. | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| And when at evening o'er the swampy plain | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| The Bittern's Boom came far, | 6 | ······ |
| Distinct in darkness seen | 6 | ˘/·/˘· |
| Above the low horizon's lingering light | 10 | ····˘/˘/˘· |
| Rose the near ruins of old Babylon. | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Once from her lofty walls the Charioteer | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Looked down on swarming myriads; once she flung | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| Her arches o'er Euphrates conquered tide, | 10 | ·/˘·˘/˘/˘· |
| And thro' her brazen portals when she poured | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| Her armies forth, the distant nations looked | 10 | ·/˘··/˘/˘· |
| As men who watched the thunder-cloud in fear | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Lest it should burst above them. She was fallen, | 11 | ·········/˘ |
| The Queen of Cities, Babylon was fallen! | 11 | ···/˘/˘··/˘ |
| Low lay her bulwarks; the black scorpion basked | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| In the palace courts, within her sanctuary | 12 | ··/˘····/˘·˘ |
| The She Wolf hid her whelps. | 6 | ······ |
| Is yonder huge and shapeless heap, what once | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| Had been the aerial Gardens, height on height | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| Rising like Medias mountains crowned with wood, | 10 | /˘·/˘/˘··· |
| Work of imperial dotage? where the fame | 10 | ··˘/˘/˘··· |
| Of Belus? where the Golden Image now, | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| Which at the sound of dulcimer and lute, | 9 | ·····/˘·· |
| Cornet and sackbut, harp and psaltery, | 10 | ˘/·/˘··/˘˘ |
| The Assyrian slaves adored? | 7 | ·˘/˘·˘/ |
| A labyrinth of ruins, Babylon | 10 | ·/˘··/˘/˘· |
| Spreads o'er the blasted plain: | 6 | ···/˘· |
| The wandering Arab never sets his tent | 9 | ·/˘/˘/··· |
| Within her walls; the Shepherd eyes afar | 10 | ·····/˘·˘/ |
| Her evil Towers, and devious drives his flock. | 9 | ·//·/˘··· |
| Alone unchanged, a free and bridgeless tide | 10 | ˘/˘/···/˘· |
| Euphrates rolls along, | 6 | ˘/˘·˘/ |
| Eternal Nature's work. | 6 | ˘/˘/˘· |
| Thro' the broken portal, | 6 | ··/˘/˘ |
| Over weedy fragments, | 6 | ··/˘/˘ |
| Thalaba went his way. | 6 | ······ |
| Cautious he trod, and felt | 6 | /˘···· |
| The dangerous ground before him with his bow. | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| The Chacal started at his steps, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| The Stork, alarmed at sound of man, | 8 | ··˘/···· |
| From her broad nest upon the old pillar top, | 11 | ········/˘· |
| Affrighted fled on flapping wings. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| The Adder in her haunts disturbed | 8 | ·/˘···˘/ |
| Lanced at the intruding staff her arrowy tongue. | 12 | ···˘/˘··/˘˘· |
| Twilight and moonshine dimly mingling gave | 10 | /··/·/˘/˘· |
| An aweful light obscure, | 7 | ·····˘/ |
| Evening not wholly closed, | 6 | /˘·/˘· |
| The Moon still pale and faint. | 6 | ······ |
| An aweful light obscure, | 7 | ·····˘/ |
| Broken by many a mass of blackest shade; | 10 | /˘·/···/˘· |
| Long column stretching dark thro' weeds and moss, | 10 | ·/˘/˘····· |
| Broad length of lofty wall | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Whose windows lay in light, | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| And of their former shape, low-arched or square, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Rude outline on the earth | 6 | ·/···· |
| Figured, with long grass fringed. | 6 | /˘···· |
| Reclined against a column's broken shaft, | 10 | ˘/···/˘/˘· |
| Unknowing whitherward to bend his way | 10 | ˘/˘/˘˘···· |
| He stood and gazed around. | 6 | ······ |
| The Ruins closed him in, | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| It seemed as if no foot of man | 8 | ········ |
| For ages had intruded there. | 8 | ·/˘·˘/˘· |
| Soon at approaching step | 6 | ··˘/˘· |
| Starting, he turned and saw | 6 | /˘···· |
| A warrior in the moon beam drawing near. | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| Forward the Stranger came | 6 | /˘·/˘· |
| And with a curious eye | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Perused the Arab youth. | 6 | ˘/·/˘· |
| "And who art thou," he cried, | 6 | ······ |
| "That at an hour like this | 6 | ···/·· |
| "Wanderest in Babylon? | 6 | /˘·/˘· |
| "A way-bewildered traveller, seekest thou | 10 | ··˘/˘/˘/˘· |
| "The ruinous shelter here? | 6 | ·/˘/˘· |
| "Or comest thou to hide | 6 | ······ |
| "The plunder of the night? | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| "Or hast thou spells to make | 6 | ······ |
| "These ruins, yawning from their rooted base | 10 | ·/˘/˘··/˘· |
| "Disclose their secret wealth?" | 6 | ˘/·/˘· |
| The youth replied, "nor wandering traveller | 9 | ··˘/·/˘/˘ |
| "Nor robber of the night | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| "Nor skilled in spells am I. | 6 | ······ |
| "I seek the Angels here, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| "Haruth and Maruth. Stranger in thy turn, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| "Why wanderest thou in Babylon, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| "And who art thou, the Questioner?" | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| The man was fearless, and the tempered pride | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| That toned the voice of Thalaba | 8 | ········ |
| Displeased not him, himself of haughty heart. | 10 | ˘/··˘/·/˘· |
| Heedless he answered, "knowest thou | 8 | /˘·/˘/˘· |
| "Their cave of punishment?" | 6 | ···/˘˘ |
| Art thou firm of foot | 5 | ····· |
| To tread the ways of danger? | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| Young Arab! if thou hast a heart can beat | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Evenly in danger, if thy bowels yearn not | 11 | /˘·/˘··/˘·· |
| With human fears, at scenes where undisgraced | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| The soldier tried in battle might look back | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| And tremble, follow me!... for I am bound | 10 | ·/˘/˘····· |
| Into that cave of horrors. | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| Thalaba | 3 | ··· |
| Gazed on his comrade, he was young, of port | 10 | ···/······ |
| Stately and strong; belike his face had pleased | 10 | /˘··˘/···· |
| A woman's eye, yet the youth read in it | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Unrestrained passions, the obdurate soul | 9 | ·˘//˘·/˘· |
| Bold in all evil daring; and it taught, | 9 | ···//˘··· |
| By Nature's irresistible instinct, doubt | 10 | ·/˘·˘/˘/˘· |
| Well timed and wary. Of himself assured, | 10 | ···/˘·˘/˘/ |
| Fearless of man, and confident in faith, | 9 | /˘···/˘·· |
| "Lead on!" cried Thalaba. | 6 | ······ |
| Mohareb led the way; | 6 | ······ |
| And thro' the ruined streets, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| And thro' the farther gate | 6 | ···/˘· |
| They past in silence on. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| What sound is borne on the wind? | 7 | ······· |
| Is it the storm that shakes | 6 | ······ |
| The thousand oaks of the forest? | 8 | ·/˘···/˘ |
| But Thalaba's long locks | 6 | ······ |
| Flow down his shoulders moveless, and the wind | 11 | ···/˘······ |
| In his loose mantle raises not one fold. | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| Is it the river's roar | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Dashed down some rocky descent? | 7 | ···/˘˘/ |
| Along the level plain | 6 | ˘/·/˘· |
| Euphrates glides unheard. | 6 | ˘/˘·˘/ |
| What sound disturbs the night, | 6 | ··˘/·· |
| Loud as the summer forest in the storm, | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| As the river that roars among rocks? | 9 | ··/˘····· |
| And what the heavy cloud | 6 | ···/˘· |
| That hangs upon the vale, | 6 | ······ |
| Thick as the mist o'er a well-watered plain | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Settling at evening, when the cooler air | 10 | /˘·/˘··/˘· |
| Lets its day-vapours fall; | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Black as the sulphur-cloud | 6 | ···/˘· |
| That thro' Vesuvius, or from Hecla's mouth | 10 | ··˘/˘··/˘· |
| Rolls up, ascending from the infernal fires. | 11 | ··˘/˘··˘/˘/ |
| From Ait's bitumen lake | 6 | ···/˘· |
| That heavy cloud ascends; | 6 | ·/˘·˘/ |
| That everlasting roar | 6 | ··˘/˘· |
| From where its gushing springs | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Boil their black billows up. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Silent the Arab youth, | 6 | /˘·/˘· |
| Along the verge of that wide lake, | 8 | ˘/······ |
| Followed Mohareb's way | 6 | /˘···· |
| Towards a ridge of rocks that banked its side. | 9 | ········· |
| There from a cave with torrent force, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And everlasting roar, | 6 | ··˘/˘· |
| The black bitumen rolled. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| The moonlight lay upon the rocks. | 8 | ·/······ |
| Their crags were visible, | 6 | ···/˘˘ |
| The shade of jutting cliffs, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| And where broad lichens whitened some smooth spot, | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| And where the ivy hung | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Its flowing tresses down. | 6 | ·/˘/˘· |
| A little way within the cave | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| The moonlight fell, glossing the sable tide | 10 | ·/··/˘·/˘· |
| That gushed tumultuous out. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| A little way it entered, then the rock | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| Arching its entrance, and the winding way, | 10 | /˘·/˘··/˘· |
| Darkened the unseen depths. | 6 | /˘·˘/· |
| No eye of mortal man | 6 | ···/˘· |
| If unenabled by enchanted spell, | 9 | ·····˘/˘· |
| Had pierced those fearful depths. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| For mingling with the roar | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Of the portentous torrent, oft were heard | 10 | ··˘/˘/˘··· |
| Shrieks, and wild yells that scared | 6 | ······ |
| The brooding Eagle from her midnight nest. | 10 | ·/˘/˘··/·· |
| The affrighted countrymen | 7 | ····/˘˘ |
| Call it the Mouth of Hell; | 6 | ······ |
| And ever when their way leads near | 7 | ·/····· |
| They hurry with averted eyes, | 8 | ·/˘·˘/˘· |
| And dropping their beads fast | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Pronounce the holy name. | 6 | ˘/·/˘· |
| There pausing at the cavern mouth | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Mohareb turned to Thalaba, | 8 | ········ |
| "Now darest thou enter in?" | 7 | ····/˘· |
| "Behold!" the youth replied, | 6 | ˘/··˘/ |
| And leading in his turn the dangerous way | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| Set foot within the cave. | 6 | ······ |
| "Stay Madman!" cried his comrade. "Wouldst thou rush | 10 | ·/···/···· |
| "Headlong to certain death? | 6 | /··/˘· |
| "Where are thine arms to meet | 6 | ······ |
| "The Guardian of the Passage?" a loud shriek | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| That shook along the windings of the cave | 10 | ··˘/·/˘··· |
| Scattered the youth's reply. | 6 | /˘··˘/ |
| Mohareb when the long reechoing ceased | 9 | ········· |
| Exclaimed, "Fate favoured thee, | 6 | ˘/·/˘· |
| "Young Arab! when she wrote upon thy brow | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| "The meeting of to-night; | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| "Else surely had thy name | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| "This hour been blotted from the Book of Life!" | 10 | ·/·/˘····· |
| So saying from beneath | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| His cloak a bag he drew; | 6 | ······ |
| "Young Arab! thou art brave," he cried, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| "But thus to rush on danger unprepared, | 10 | ·····/˘·˘/ |
| "As lions spring upon the hunter's spear, | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| "Is blind, brute courage. Zohak keeps the cave, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| "Giantly tyrant of primeval days. | 10 | /˘˘/˘·˘/˘· |
| "Force cannot win the passage." Thus he said | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| And from his wallet drew a human hand | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Shrivelled, and dry, and black, | 6 | /˘···· |
| And fitting as he spake | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| A taper in its hold, | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Pursued: "a murderer on the stake had died, | 10 | ˘/·/˘····· |
| "I drove the Vulture from his limbs, and lopt | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| "The hand that did the murder, and drew up | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| "The tendon-strings to close its grasp, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| "And in the sun and wind | 6 | ······ |
| "Parched it, nine weeks exposed. | 6 | ····˘/ |
| "The Taper,... but not here the place to impart, | 11 | ·/˘······˘/ |
| "Nor hast thou done the rites, | 6 | ······ |
| "That fit thee to partake the mystery. | 9 | ····˘/·/˘ |
| "Look! it burns clear, but with the air around | 10 | ·········· |
| "Its dead ingredients mingle deathiness. | 10 | ··˘/˘/˘··· |
| "This when the Keeper of the Cave shall feel, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| "Maugre the doom of Heaven, | 7 | /˘···/˘ |
| "The salutary spell | 6 | ·/˘·˘· |
| "Shall lull his penal agony to sleep | 9 | ···/˘/˘·· |
| "And leave the passage free." | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Thalaba answered not. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Nor was there time for answer now, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| For lo! Mohareb leads, | 6 | ······ |
| And o'er the vaulted cave | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Trembles the accursed taper's feeble light. | 10 | /˘···/˘/˘· |
| There where the narrowing chasm | 7 | ···/˘/˘ |
| Rose loftier in the hill, | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Stood Zohak, wretched man, condemned to keep | 10 | ···/˘·˘/·· |
| His Cave of punishment. | 6 | ···/˘˘ |
| His was the frequent scream | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Which far away the prowling Chacal heard | 10 | ··˘/·/˘··· |
| And howled in terror back: | 6 | ···/˘· |
| For from his shoulders grew | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Two snakes of monster size, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| That ever at his head | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Aimed eager their keen teeth | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| To satiate raving hunger with his brain. | 11 | ·/˘˘/˘/˘··· |
| He in the eternal conflict oft would seize | 11 | ···˘/˘/˘··· |
| Their swelling necks, and in his giant grasp | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| Bruise them, and rend their flesh with bloody nails, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| And howl for agony, | 6 | ···/˘˘ |
| Feeling the pangs he gave, for of himself | 10 | /˘······˘/ |
| Inseparable parts, his torturers grew. | 8 | ˘/˘··/˘· |
| To him approaching now | 6 | ··˘/˘· |
| Mohareb held the withered arm | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| The Taper of enchanted power. | 8 | ·/˘·˘/˘/ |
| The unhallowed spell in hand unholy held | 11 | ·˘/˘···˘/˘· |
| Now ministered to mercy, heavily | 8 | ·/˘·/˘/˘ |
| The wretche's eyelids closed, | 6 | ···/·· |
| And welcome and unfelt | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Like the release of death | 6 | ··˘/·· |
| A sudden sleep fell on his vital powers. | 10 | ·/˘····/˘/ |
| Yet tho' along the cave | 6 | ··˘/·· |
| Lay Zohak's giant limbs, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| The twin-born serpents kept the narrow pass, | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Kindled their fiery eyes, | 6 | /˘·/˘· |
| Darted their tongues of terror, and rolled out | 10 | /˘···/˘··· |
| Their undulating length, | 6 | ·/˘·˘· |
| Like the long streamers of some gallant ship | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Buoyed on the wavy air, | 7 | /˘··/˘· |
| Still struggling to flow on and still withheld. | 10 | ·/˘·····˘/ |
| The scent of living flesh | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Inflamed their appetite. | 6 | ˘/·/˘· |
| Prepared for all the perils of the cave | 10 | ˘/···/˘··· |
| Mohareb came. He from his wallet drew | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Two human heads yet warm. | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| O hard of heart! whom not the visible power | 10 | ·······/˘/ |
| Of retributive Justice, and the doom | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Of Zohak in his sight, | 6 | ······ |
| Deterred from equal crime! | 6 | ˘/·/˘· |
| Two human heads, yet warm, he laid | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Before the scaly guardians of the pass. | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| They to their wonted banquet of old years | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| Turned eager, and the narrow pass was free. | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| And now before their path | 6 | ······ |
| The opening cave dilates; | 6 | ·/˘·˘/ |
| They reach a spacious vault | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Where the black river fountains burst their way. | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| Now as a whirlwind's force | 6 | ···/·· |
| Had centered on the spring, | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| The gushing flood rolled up; | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| And now the deadened roar | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Echoed beneath them, as its sudden pause | 10 | /˘·····/˘· |
| Left wide a dark abyss, | 6 | ····˘/ |
| Adown whose fathomless gulphs the eye was lost. | 11 | ˘/·/˘˘····· |
| Blue flames that hovered o'er the springs | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Flung thro' the Cavern their uncertain light | 10 | ···/˘·˘/˘· |
| Now waving on the waves they lay, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| And now their fiery curls | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Flowed in long tresses up, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| And now contracting glowed with whiter heat. | 8 | ··/˘··/· |
The first 400 of 518 lines; the reader marks them all.
Notes from the edition 22
Southey's own notes to Thalaba the Destroyer (Project Gutenberg #39804).
- Stanza 3, line 18 The Pelican makes choice of dry and desert places to lay her eggs, when her young are hatched, she is obliged to bring water to them from great distances, to enable her to perform this necessary office Nature has provided her with a large sack which extends from the tip of the under mandible of her bill to the throat, and holds as much water as will supply her brood for several days. This water she pours into the nest to cool her young, to allay their thirst, and to teach them to swim. Lions, Tygers, and other rapacious animals resort to these nests, and drink the water and are said not to injure the young. Smellie's Philosophy of Natural History.
- Stanza 5, line 11 These prominent features of an Oriental city will be found in all the views of Sir John Chardin. The mosques, the minarets, and numerous cupolas form a splended spectacle; and the flat roofs of the houses which are situated on the hills, rising one behind another, present a succession of hanging terraces, interspersed with cyprus and poplar trees. Russel's Nat. Hist. of Aleppo. The circuit of Ispahan taking in the suburbs is not less than that of Paris, but Paris contains ten times the number of its inhabitants. It is not however astonishing that this city is so extensive and so thinly peopled, because every family has its own house, and almost every house its garden; so that there is much void ground. From whatever side you arrive you first discover the towers of the Mosques, and then the trees which surround the houses; at a distance Ispahan resembles a forest more than a town. Tavernier. Of Alexandria Volney says, "the spreading palm trees, the terraced houses which seem to have no roof, the lofty slender minarets, all announce to the traveller that he is in another world."
- Stanza 6, line 1 Almanzor riding one day with his courtiers along the banks of the Tigris, where Seleucia formerly stood, was so delighted with the beauty of the country, that he resolved there to build his new Capital. Whilst he was conversing with his attendants upon this project, one of them separating from the rest met a hermit whose cell was near, and entered into talk with him and communicated the design of the Caliph. The Hermit replied, he well knew by a tradition of the country that a city would one day be built in that plain, but that its founder would be a man called Moclas, a name very different from both those of the Caliph, Giaffar and Almanzor. The Officer rejoined Almanzor and repeated his conversation with the Hermit. As soon as the Caliph heard the name of Moclas, he descended from his horse, prostrated himself, and returned thanks to God for that he was chosen to execute his orders. His courtiers waited for an explanation of this conduct with eagerness, and the Caliph told them thus. During the Caliphate of the Ommiades, my brothers and myself being very young and possessing very little, were obliged to live in the country, where each in rotation was to provide sustenance for the whole. On one of my days as I was without money, and had no means of procuring food, I took a bracelet belonging to my nurse and pawned it. This woman made a great outcry, and after much search discovered that I had been the thief. In her anger she abused me plentifully, and among other terms of reproach, she called me Moclas, the name of a famous robber in those days; and during the rest of her life she never called me by any other name. Therefore I know that God has destined me to perform this work. Marigny. Almanzor named his new city Dar-al-Salam the City of Peace; but it obtained the name of Bagdat, from that of this Hermit who dwelt upon its site. Bagdat was founded in consequence of a singular superstition. A sect called Ravendiens conceived that they ought to render those honours to the Caliphs, which the Moslem hold should only be paid to the Deity. They therefore came in great numbers to Haschemia, where the Caliph Almanzor usually resided, and made around his palace the same processions and ceremonies which the Moslem made around the Temple at Mecca. The Caliph prohibited this, commanding them not to profane a religious ceremony which ought to be reserved solely to the Temple at Mecca. The Ravendiens did not regard the prohibition, and continued to act as befor …
- Stanza 6, line 7 Almanzor signifies the Victorious.
- Stanza 7, line 3 The houses in Persia are not in the same place with their shops, which stand for the most part in long and large arched streets 40 or 50 foot high, which streets are called Basar or the market, and make the heart of the city, the houses being in the out parts, and having almost all gardens belonging to 'em. Chardin. At Tauris he says, "there are the fairest Basars that are in any place of Asia, and it is a lovely sight to see their vast extent, their largeness, their beautiful Duomos and the arches over 'em." At Bagdad the Bazars are all vaulted, otherwise the merchants could not remain in them on account of the heat. They are also watered two or three times a day, and a number of the poor are paid for rendering this service to the public. Tavernier.
- Stanza 7, line 9 On the other side of the river towards Arabia, over against the city, there is a faire place or towne, and in it a faire Bazario for marchants, with very many lodgings where the greatest part of the marchants strangers which come to Babylon do lie with their marchandize. The passing over Tygris from Babylon to this Borough is by a long bridge made of boates chained together with great chaines: provided, that when the river waxeth great with the abundance of raine that falleth, then they open the bridge in the middle, where the one halfe of the bridge falleth to the walles of Babylon, and the other to the brinks of this Borough, on the other side of the river; and as long as the bridge is open, they passe the river in small boats with great danger, because of the smallnesse of the boats, and the overlading of them, that with the fiercenesse of the stream they be overthrowen, or els the streame doth cary them away, so that by this meanes, many people are lost and drowned. Caesar Frederick, in Hakluyt. Here are great store of victuals which come from Armenia downe the river of Tygris. They are brought upon raftes made of goate's skinnes blownn full of wind, and bordes layde upon them; which being discharged they open their skinnes, and carry them backe by Camels. Ralph Fitch in Hakluyt.
- Stanza 9, line 1 In Tavernier's time there were five Mosques at Bagdad, two of them fine, their large Domes covered with varnished tiles of different colours.
- Stanza 9, line 4 At Bagdad are many cranes who build their nests upon the tops of the minarets, and the loftiest houses. At Adanaqui--cranes are so abundant, that there is scarcely a house which has not several nests upon it. They are very tame, and the inhabitants never molest them. When any thing disturbs these birds, they make a violent clatter with their long beaks, which is sometimes repeated by the others all over the town; and this noise will sometimes continue for several minutes. It is as loud as a watchman's rattle, and not much unlike it in sound. Jackson. The cranes were now arrived at their respective quarters, and a couple had made their nest, which is bigger in circumference than a bushel, on a dome close by our chamber. This pair stood, side by side, with great gravity, shewing no concern at what was transacting beneath them, but at intervals twisting about their long necks, and cluttering with their beaks, turned behind them upon their backs, as it were in concert. This was continued the whole night. An Owl, a bird also unmolested, was perched hard by, and as frequently hooted. The crane is tall, like a heron, but much larger; the body white, with black pinions, the neck and legs very long, the head small, and the bill thick. The Turks call it friend and brother, believing it has an affection for their nation, and will accompany them into the countries they shall conquer. In the course of our journey we saw one hopping on a wall with a single leg, the maimed stump wrapped in linen. Chandler's Travels in Asia Minor.
- Stanza 9, line 7 I will rise up against them, saith the Lord of Hosts, and cut off from Babylon the name and remnant, and son and nephew saith the Lord. I will also make it a possession for the Bittern and pools of water. Isaiah. XIV. 22. 23.
- Stanza 10, line 1 ----Walls, within Whose large inclosure the rude hind, or guides His plough, or binds his sheaves, while shepherds guard Their flocks, secure of ill: on the broad top Six chariots rattle in extended front. Each side in length, in height, in solid bulk, Reflects its opposite a perfect square; Scarce sixty thousand paces can mete out The vast circumference. An hundred gates Of polished brass lead to that central point Where thro' the midst, bridged o'er with wondrous art Euphrates leads a navigable stream, Branch'd from the current of his roaring flood. Roberts's Judah Restored.
- Stanza 10, line 13 Within the walls Of Babylon was rais'd a lofty mound Where flowers and aromatic shrubs adorn'd The pensile garden. For Nebassar's queen, Fatigued with Babylonia's level plains, Sigh'd for her Median home, where nature's hand Had scoop'd the vale, and cloath'd the mountain's side With many a verdant wood; nor long she pin'd Till that uxorious monarch called on art To rival nature's sweet variety. Forthwith two hundred thousand slaves uprear'd This hill, egregious work; rich fruits o'er hang The sloping walks and odorous shrubs entwine Their undulating branches. Roberts's Judah Restored.
- Stanza 10, line 16 Our early Travellers have given us strange and circumstantial accounts of what they conceive to have been the Temple of Belus. The Tower of Nimrod or Babel is situate on that side of Tygris that Arabia is, and in a very great plaine distant from Babylon seven or eight miles; which tower is ruinated on every side, and with the falling of it there is made a great mountaine; so that it hath no forme at all, yet there is a great part of it standing, which is compassed and almost covered with the aforesayd fallings: this Tower was builded and made of foure-square brickes, which brickes were made of earth, and dried in the Sunne in maner and forme following: first they layed a lay of brickes, then a mat made of canes, square as the brickes, and instead of lime, they daubed it with earth: these mats of canes are at this time so strong, that it is a thing woonderfull to beholde, being of such great antiquity: I have gone round about it, and have not found any place where there hath bene any doore or entrance: it may be in my judgement in circuit about a mile, and rather lesse than more. This Tower in effect is contrary to all other things which are seene afar off, for they seeme small and the more nere a man commeth to them the bigger they be: but this tower afar off seemeth a very great thing, and the nerer you come to it the lesser. My judgement and reason of this is, that because the Tower is set in a very great plaine, and hath nothing more about to make any shew saving the ruines of it which it hath made round about, and for this respect descrying it afarre off, that piece of the Tower which yet standeth with the mountaine that is made of the substance that hath fallen from it, maketh a greater shew than you shall finde comming neere to it. Caesar Frederick. John Eldred mentions the same deception. "Being upon a plaine grounde it seemeth afarre off very great, but the nerer you come to it, the lesser and lesser it appeareth. Sundry times I have gone thither to see it, and found the remnants yet standing about a quarter of a mile in compasse, and almost as high as the stone worke of St. Paul's steeple in London, but it sheweth much bigger." Hakluyt. In the middle of a vast and level plain, about a quarter of a league from Euphrates, which in that place runs westward, appears a heap of ruined buildings, like a huge mountain, the materials of which are so confounded together that one knows not what to make of it. Its figure is square, and rises in …
- Stanza 10, line 23 And Babylon the glory of kingdoms, the beauty of the Chaldees excellency shall be as when God overthrew Sodom and Gomorrah. It shall never be inhabited, neither shall it be dwelt in from generation to generation; neither shall the Arabian pitch tent there, neither shall the Shepherds make their fold there. Isaiah. XIII. 19. 20.
- Stanza 13, line 22 The stupid superstition of the Turks with regard to hidden treasures is well known, it is difficult or even dangerous for a traveller to copy an inscription in sight of those barbarians. "On a rising ground, at a league's distance from the river Shelliff, is Memoun-turroy, as they call an old square tower, formerly a sepulchral monument of the Romans. This, like many more ancient edifices, is supposed by the Arabs, to have been built over a treasure. Agreeably to which account, they tell us, these mystical lines were inscribed upon it. Prince Maimoun Tizai wrote this upon his tower. My Treasure is in my Shade, And my Shade is in my Treasure. Search for it; despair not: Nay despair; do not search. Shaw. So of the ruines of ancient Tubuna. The Treasure of Tubnah lyeth under the shade of what is shaded. Dig for it? alas! it is not there. Shaw.
- Stanza 20, line 1 The springs of bitumen called Oyun Hit, the fountains of Hit, are much celebrated by the Arabs and Persians; the latter call it Cheshmeh kir, the fountain of pitch. This liquid bitumen they call Nafta; and the Turks, to distinguish it from pitch, give it the name of hara sakiz, or black mastich. A Persian geographer says, that Nafta issues out of the springs of the earth as ambergrise issues out of those of the sea. All the modern travellers, except Rauwolf, who went to Persia and the Indies by the way of the Euphrates before the discovery of the Cape of Good Hope, mention this fountain of liquid bitumen as a strange thing. Some of them take notice of the river mentioned by Herodotus; and assure us, that the people of the country have a tradition, that, when the tower of Babel was building, they brought the bitumen from hence; which is confirmed by the Arab and Persian historians. Hit, Heit, Eit, Ait, or Idt, as it is variously written by travellers, is a great Turkish town situate upon the right or west side of the Euphrates; and has a castle; to the south-west of which and three miles from the town, in a valley, are many springs of this black substance; each of which makes a noise like a smith's forge, incessantly puffing and blowing out the matter so loud, that it may be heard a mile off: wherefore the Moors and Arabs call it Bab al Jehennam; that is hell gate. It swallows up all heavy things; and many camels from time to time fall into the pits, and are irrecoverably lost. It issues from a certain lake, sending forth a filthy smoke, and continually boiling over with the pitch; which spreads itself over a great field, that is always full of it. It is free for every one to take: they use it to chaulk or pitch their boats, laying it on two or three inches thick; which keeps out the water: with it also they pitch their houses, made of palm-tree branches. If it was not that the inundations of the Euphrates carry away the pitch, which covers all the sands from the place where it rises to the river, there would have been mountains of it long since. The very ground and stones thereabouts afford bitumen; and the fields abundance of salt petre. Universal History.
- Stanza 20, line 36 The Mussulmanns use, like the Roman Catholics, a rosary of beads called Tusbah, or implement of praise. It consists, if I recollect aright, of ninty nine beads; in dropping which through the fingers, they repeat the attributes of God, as "O Creator, O Merciful, O Forgiving, O Omnipotent, O Omniscient, &c. &c." This act of devotion is called Taleel, from the repetition of the letter L, or Laum, which occurs in the word Allah, (God), always joined to the epithet or attribute, as Ya Allah Khalick, O God, the Creator; Ya Allah Kerreem, O God, the Merciful, &c. &c. The devotees may be seen muttering their beads as they walk the streets, and in the interval of conversation in company. The rosaries of persons of fortune and rank have the beads of diamonds, pearls, rubies and emeralds. Those of the humble are strung with berries, coral, or glass beads. Note to the Bahar Danush. The ninty nine beads of the Mohammedan rosary are divided into three equal lengths, by a little string, at the end of which hang a long piece of coral and a large bead of the same. The more devout, or hypocritical Turks, like the Catholics have usually their bead string in their hands. Tavernier.
- Stanza 23, line 3 "The Mahummedans believe that the decreed events of every man's life are impressed in divine characters on his forehead, tho' not to be seen by mortal eye. Hence they use the word Nusseeb, anglice stamped, for destiny. Most probably the idea was taken up by Mahummud from the sealing of the Elect, mentioned in the Revelations." Note to the Bahar-Danush. "The scribe of decree chose to ornament the edicts on my forehead with these flourishes of disgrace." Bahar-Danush. The Spanish physiognomical phrase, traerlo escrito en la frente, to have it written on the forehead, is perhaps of Arabian origin.
- Stanza 24, line 6 Zohak was the fifth King of the Pischdadian dynasty, lineally descended from Shedad who perished with the tribe of Ad. Zohak murdered his predecessor, and invented the punishments of the cross, and of fleaing alive. The Devil who had long served him, requested at last as a recompence, permission to kiss his shoulders, immediately two serpents grew there, who fed upon his flesh and endeavoured to get at his brain. The Devil now suggested a remedy, which was to quiet them by giving them every day the brains of two men, killed for that purpose: this tyranny lasted long, till a blacksmith of Ispahan whose children had been nearly all slain to feed the King's serpents, raised his leathern apron as the standard of revolt, and deposed Zohak. Zohak, say the Persians, is still living in the cave of his punishment, a sulphureous vapour issues from the place, and if a stone be flung in there comes out a voice and cries, why dost thou fling stones at me? this cavern is in the mountain of Demawend, which reaches from that of Elwend, towards Teheran. D'Herbelot. Olearius.
- Stanza 24, line 26 "I shall transcribe a foreign piece of Superstition, firmly believed in many parts of France, Germany and Spain. The account of it, and the mode of preparation, appears to have been given by a judge: in the latter there is a striking resemblance to the charm in Macbeth. Of the Hand of Glory, which is made use of by housebreakers, to enter into houses at night, without fear of opposition. I acknowledge that I never tried the secret of the Hand of Glory, but I have thrice assisted at the definitive judgment of certain criminals, who, under the torture, confessed having used it. Being asked what it was, how they procured it, and what were its uses and properties? they answered, first, that the use of the Hand of Glory was to stupify those to whom it was presented, and to render them motionless, insomuch that they could not stir, any more than if they were dead; secondly, that it was the hand of a hanged man; and thirdly, that it must be prepared in the manner following. Take the hand, left or right, of a person hanged and exposed on the highway; wrap it up in a piece of a shroud or winding sheet, in which let it be well squeezed, to get out any small quantity of blood that may have remained in it; then put it into an earthen vessel with Zimat saltpetre, salt, and long pepper, the whole well powdered; leave it fifteen days in that vessel; afterwards take it out, and expose it to the noontide sun in the dog days, till it is thoroughly dry, and if the Sun is not sufficient, put it into an oven heated with fern and vervain. Then compose a kind of candle with the fat of a hanged man, virgin wax, and sisame of Lapland. The Hand of Glory is used as a candlestick to hold this candle, when lighted. Its properties are, that wheresoever any one goes with this dreadful instrument, the persons to whom it is presented will be deprived of all power of motion. On being asked if there was no remedy or antidote, to counteract this charm, they said the Hand of Glory would cease to take effect, and thieves could not make use of it, if the threshold of the door of the house, and other places by which they might enter, were anointed with an unguent composed of the gall of a black cat, the fat of a white hen, and the blood of a screech owl, which mixture must necessarily be prepared during the dog days. Grose. Provincial Glossary and Popular Superstitions.
- Stanza 31, line 9 The habitations of the Saints are always beside the sanctuary, or tomb, of their ancestors, which they take care to adorn. Some of them possess, close to their houses, gardens, trees, or cultivated grounds, and particularly some spring or well of water. I was once travelling in the south in the beginning of October, when the season happened to be exceedingly hot, and the wells and rivulets of the country were all dried up. We had neither water, for ourselves, nor for our horses; and after having taken much fruitless trouble to obtain some, we went and paid homage to a Saint, who at first pretended a variety of scruples before he would suffer infidels to approach; but on promising to give him ten or 12 shillings, he became exceedingly humane, and supplied us with as much water as we wanted; still however vaunting highly of his charity, and particularly of his disinterestedness. Chenier.
- Stanza 31, line 11 No nation in the world is so much given to superstition as the Arabs, or even as the Mahometans in general. They hung about their children's necks the figure of an open hand, which the Turks and Moors paint upon their ships and houses, as an antidote and counter-charm to an evil eye: For five is with them an unlucky number and five (fingers perhaps) in your eyes, is their proverb of cursing and defiance. Those who are grown up, carry always about with them some paragraph or other of their Koran, which, like as the Jews did their phylacteries, they place upon their breast, or sow under their caps, to prevent fascination and witchcraft, and to secure themselves from sickness and misfortunes. The virtue of these charms and scrolls is supposed likewise to be so far universal, that they suspend them upon the necks of their cattle, horses and other beasts of burthen. Shaw. The hand-spell is still common in Portugal, it is called the figa, and thus probably our vulgar phrase "a fig for him" is derived from a Moorish amulet.
- Stanza 37, line 8 In the Vision of Thurcillus Adam is described as beholding the events of the world with mingled grief and joy; his original garment of glory gradually recovering its lustre, as the number of the elect increases, till it be fulfilled. Matthew Paris.
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