Chapter II: Part 2

’Twas from a brilliant banquet, where the sound
Of poesy and music breath’d around,
Together picturing to her mind and ear
The glories of that heaven, her destin’d sphere,
Where all was pure, where every stain that lay
Upon the spirit’s light should pass away,
And, realizing more than youthful love
E’er wish’d or dream’d, she should for ever rove
Through fields of fragrance by her AZIM’S side,
His own bless’d, purified, eternal bride!—
’Twas from a scene, a witching trance like this,
He hurried her away, yet breathing bliss,
To the dim charnel-house;—through all its steams
Of damp and death, led only by those gleams
Which foul Corruption lights, as with design
To show the gay and proud _she_ too can shine!—
And, passing on through upright ranks of Dead,
Which to the maiden, doubly craz’d by dread,
Seem’d, through the bluish death-light round them cast,
To move their lips in mutterings as she pass’d—
There, in that awful place, when each had quaff’d
And pledg’d in silence such a fearful draught,
Such—oh! the look and taste of that red bowl
Will haunt her till she dies—he bound her soul
By a dark oath, in hell’s own language fram’d,
Never, while earth his mystic presence claim’d,
While the blue arch of day hung o’er them both,
Never, by that all-imprecating oath,
In joy or sorrow from his side to sever.—
She swore, and the wide charnel echoed, “Never, never!”

From that dread hour, entirely, wildly given
To him and—she believ’d, lost maid!—to Heaven;
Her brain, her heart, her passions all inflam’d,
How proud she stood, when in full Haram nam’d
The Priestess of the Faith!—how flash’d her eyes
With light, alas! that was not of the skies,
When round, in trances, only less than hers,
She saw the Haram kneel, her prostrate worshippers!
Well might MOKANNA think that form alone
Had spells enough to make the world his own:—
Light, lovely limbs, to which the spirit’s play
Gave motion, airy as the dancing spray,
When from its stem the small bird wings away:
Lips in whose rosy labyrinth, when she smil’d,
The soul was lost; and blushes, swift and wild
As are the momentary meteors sent
Across the’ uncalm, but beauteous firmament.
And then her look—oh! where’s the heart so wise
Could unbewilder’d meet those matchless eyes?
Quick, restless, strange, but exquisite withal,
Like those of angels, just before their fall;
Now shadow’d with the shames of earth—now crost
By glimpses of the Heaven her heart had lost;
In ev’ry glance there broke, without control,
The flashes of a bright, but troubled soul,
Where sensibility still wildly play’d,
Like lightning, round the ruins it had made!

And such was now young ZELICA—so chang’d
From her who, some years since, delighted rang’d
The almond groves that shade BOKHARA’S tide,
All life and bliss, with AZIM by her side!
So alter’d was she now, this festal day,
When, ’mid the proud Divan’s dazzling array,
The vision of that Youth whom she had lov’d,
Had wept as dead, before her breath’d and mov’d;—
When—bright, she thought, as if from Eden’s track
But half-way trodden, he had wander’d back
Again to earth, glistening with Eden’s light—
Her beauteous AZIM shone before her sight.

O Reason! who shall say what spells renew,
When least we look for it, thy broken clew!
Through what small vistas o’er the darken’d brain
Thy intellectual day-beam bursts again;
And how, like forts, to which beleaguerers win
Unhop’d-for entrance through some friend within,
One clear idea, waken’d in the breast
By memory’s magic, lets in all the rest!
Would it were thus, unhappy girl, with thee!
But though light came, it came but partially;
Enough to show the maze, in which thy sense
Wander’d about,—but not to guide it thence;
Enough to glimmer o’er the yawning wave,
But not to point the harbour which might save.
Hours of delight and peace, long left behind,
With that dear form came rushing o’er her mind;
But, oh! to think how deep her soul had gone
In shame and falsehood since those moments shone;
And, then, her oath—_there_ madness lay again,
And, shuddering, back she sunk into her chain
Of mental darkness, as if blest to flee
From light, whose every glimpse was agony!
Yet, _one_ relief this glance of former years
Brought, mingled with its pain,—tears, floods of tears,
Long frozen at her heart, but now like rills
Let loose in spring-time from the snowy hills,
And gushing warm, after a sleep of frost,
Through valleys where their flow had long been lost.

Sad and subdued, for the first time her frame
Trembled with horror, when the summons came
(A summons proud and rare, which all but she,
And she, till now, had heard with ecstasy,)
To meet MOKANNA at his place of prayer,
A garden oratory, cool and fair,
By the stream’s side, where still at close of day
The Prophet of the Veil retir’d to pray;
Sometimes alone—but, oftener far, with one,
One chosen nymph to share his orison.

Of late none found such favour in his sight
As the young Priestess; and though, since that night
When the death-caverns echoed every tone
Of the dire oath that made her all his own,
The’ Impostor, sure of his infatuate prize,
Had, more than once, thrown off his soul’s disguise,
And utter’d such unheavenly, monstrous things,
As even across the desp’rate wanderings
Of a weak intellect, whose lamp was out,
Threw startling shadows of dismay and doubt;—
Yet zeal, ambition, her tremendous vow,
The thought, still haunting her, of that bright brow,
Whose blaze, as yet from mortal eye conceal’d,
Would soon, proud triumph! be to her reveal’d,
To her alone;—and then the hope, most dear,
Most wild of all, that her transgression here
Was but a passage through earth’s grosser fire,
From which the spirit would at last aspire,
Even purer than before,—as perfumes rise
Through flame and smoke, most welcome to the skies—
And that when AZIM’S fond, divine embrace
Should circle her in heaven, no dark’ning trace
Would on that bosom he once lov’d remain,
But all be bright, be pure, be _his_ again!—
These were the wildering dreams, whose curst deceit
Had chain’d her soul beneath the tempter’s feet,
And made her think even damning falsehood sweet.
But now that Shape, which had appall’d her view,
That Semblance—oh, how terrible, if true!—
Which came across her frenzy’s full career
With shock of consciousness, cold, deep, severe,
As when, in northern seas, at midnight dark,
An isle of ice encounters some swift bark,
And, startling all its wretches from their sleep,
By one cold impulse hurls them to the deep;—
So came that shock not frenzy’s self could bear,
And waking up each long-lull’d image there,
But check’d her headlong soul, to sink it in despair!

Wan and dejected, through the evening dusk,
She now went slowly to that small kiosk,
Where, pond’ring alone his impious schemes,
MOKANNA waited her—too wrapt in dreams
Of the fair-rip’ning future’s rich success,
To heed the sorrow, pale and spiritless,
That sat upon his victim’s downcast brow,
Or mark how slow her step, how alter’d now
From the quick, ardent Priestess, whose light bound
Came like a spirit’s o’er the’ unechoing ground,—
From that wild ZELICA, whose every glance
Was thrilling fire, whose every thought a trance!

Upon his couch the Veil’d MOKANNA lay,
While lamps around—not such as lend their ray,
Glimmering and cold, to those who nightly pray
In holy KOOM,[48] or MECCA’S dim arcades,—
But brilliant, soft, such lights as lovely maids
Look loveliest in, shed their luxurious glow
Upon his mystic Veil’s white glittering flow.
Beside him, ’stead of beads and books of prayer,
Which the world fondly thought he mus’d on there,
Stood vases, fill’d with KISHMEE’S[49] golden wine,
And the red weepings of the SHIRAZ vine;
Of which his curtain’d lips full many a draught
Took zealously, as if each drop they quaff’d,
Like ZEMZEM’S Spring of Holiness,[50] had power
To freshen the soul’s virtues into flower!
And still he drank and ponder’d—nor could see
The’ approaching maid, so deep his reverie;
At length, with fiendish laugh, like that which broke
From EBLIS at the Fall of Man, he spoke:—
“Yes, ye vile race, for hell’s amusement given,
“Too mean for earth, yet claiming kin with heaven;
“God’s images, forsooth!—such gods as he
“Whom INDIA serves, the monkey deity;—[51]
“Ye creatures of a breath, proud things of clay,
“To whom if LUCIFER, as grandams say,
“Refus’d, though at the forfeit of heaven’s light,
“To bend in worship, LUCIFER was right!—[52]
“Soon shall I plant this foot upon the neck
“Of your foul race, and without fear or check,
“Luxuriating in hate, avenge my shame,
“My deep-felt, long-nurst loathing of man’s name!
“Soon at the head of myriads, blind and fierce
“As hooded falcons, through the universe
“I’ll sweep my dark’ning, desolating way,
“Weak man my instrument, curst man my prey!

“Ye wise, ye learn’d, who grope your dull way on
“By the dim twinkling gleams of ages gone,
“Like superstitious thieves, who think the light
“From dead men’s marrow guides them best at night—[53]
“Ye shall have honours—wealth,—yes, Sages, yes—
“I know, grave fools, your wisdom’s nothingness;
“Undazzled it can track yon starry sphere,
“But a gilt stick, a bawble blinds it here.
“How I shall laugh, when trumpeted along,
“In lying speech, and still more lying song,
“By these learn’d slaves, the meanest of the throng;
“Their wits bought up, their wisdom shrunk so small,
“A sceptre’s puny point can wield it all!

“Ye too, believers of incredible creeds,
“Whose faith enshrines the monsters which it breeds;
“Who, bolder even than NEMROD, think to rise,
“By nonsense heap’d on nonsense, to the skies;
“Ye shall have miracles, ay, sound ones too,
“Seen, heard, attested, ev’ry thing—but true.
“Your preaching zealots, too inspir’d to seek
“One grace of meaning for the things they speak;
“Your martyrs, ready to shed out their blood,
“For truths too heavenly to be understood;
“And your State Priests, sole vendors of the lore
“That works salvation;—as, on AVA’S shore,
“Where none _but_ priests are privileg’d to trade
“In that best marble of which Gods are made;[54]
“They shall have mysteries—ay, precious stuff
“For knaves to thrive by—mysteries enough;
“Dark, tangled doctrines, dark as fraud can weave,
“Which simple votaries shall on trust receive,
“While craftier feign belief, till they believe.
“A Heaven too ye must have, ye lords of dust,—
“A splendid Paradise,—pure souls, ye must:
“That Prophet ill sustains his holy call,
“Who finds not heavens to suit the tastes of all;
“Houris for boys, omniscience for sages,
“And wings and glories for all ranks and ages.
“Vain things!—as lust or vanity inspires,
“The Heaven of each is but what each desires,
“And, soul or sense, whate’er the object be,
“Man would be man to all eternity!
“So let him—EBLIS! grant this crowning curse,
“But keep him what he is, no Hell were worse.”

“Oh my lost soul!” exclaim’d the shuddering maid,
Whose ears had drunk like poison all he said:—
MOKANNA started—not abash’d, afraid,—
He knew no more of fear than one who dwells
Beneath the tropics knows of icicles!
But, in those dismal words that reach’d his ear,
“Oh my lost soul!” there was a sound so drear,
So like that voice, among the sinful dead,
In which the legend o’er Hell’s Gate is read,
That, new as ’twas from her, whom nought could dim
Or sink till now, it startled even him.

“Ha, my fair Priestess!”—thus, with ready wile,
The’ impostor turn’d to greet her—“thou, whose smile
“Hath inspiration in its rosy beam
“Beyond the’ Enthusiast’s hope or Prophet’s dream!
“Light of the faith! who twin’st religion’s zeal
“So close with love’s, men know not which they feel,
“Nor which to sigh for, in their trance of heart,
“The heaven thou preachest or the heaven thou art!
“What should I be without thee? without thee
“How dull were power, how joyless victory!
“Though borne by angels, if that smile of thine
“Bless’d not my banner, ’twere but half divine.
“But—why so mournful, child? those eyes, that shone
“All life last night—what!—is their glory gone?
“Come, come—this morn’s fatigue hath made them pale,
“They want rekindling—suns themselves would fail,
“Did not their comets bring, as I to thee,
“From light’s own fount supplies of brilliancy.
“Thou seest this cup—no juice of earth is here,
“But the pure waters of that upper sphere,
“Whose rills o’er ruby beds and topaz flow,
“Catching the gem’s bright colour as they go.
“Nightly my Genii come and fill these urns—
“Nay, drink—in every drop life’s essence burns;
“’Twill make that soul all fire, those eyes all light—
“Come, come, I want thy loveliest smiles to-night:—
“There is a youth—why start?—thou saw’st him then;
“Look’d he not nobly? such the godlike men
“Thou’lt have to woo thee in the bowers above;—
“Though _he_, I fear, hath thoughts too stern for love,
“Too rul’d by that cold enemy of bliss
“The world calls virtue—we must conquer this;—
“Nay, shrink not, pretty sage! ’tis not for thee
“To scan the mazes of Heaven’s mystery:
“The steel must pass through fire, ere it can yield
“Fit instruments for mighty hands to wield.
“This very night I mean to try the art
“Of powerful beauty on that warrior’s heart.
“All that my Haram boasts of bloom and wit,
“Of skill and charms, most rare and exquisite,
“Shall tempt the boy;—young MIRZALA’S blue eyes,
“Whose sleepy lid like snow on violets lies;
“AROUYA’S cheeks, warm as a spring-day sun,
“And lips that, like the seal of SOLOMON,
“Have magic in their pressure; ZEBA’S lute,
“And LILLA’S dancing feet, that gleam and shoot
“Rapid and white as sea-birds o’er the deep—
“All shall combine their witching powers to steep
“My convert’s spirit in that soft’ning trance,
“From which to heaven is but the next advance;
“That glowing, yielding fusion of the breast,
“On which Religion stamps her image best.
“But hear me, Priestess!—though each nymph of these
“Hath some peculiar, practis’d power to please,
“Some glance or step which, at the mirror tried,
“First charms herself, then all the world beside;
“There still wants _one_, to make the victory sure,
“One who in every look joins every lure;
“Through whom all beauty’s beams concentred pass,
“Dazzling and warm, as through love’s burning glass;
“Whose gentle lips persuade without a word,
“Whose words, ev’n when unmeaning, are ador’d,
“Like inarticulate breathings from a shrine,
“Which our faith takes for granted are divine!
“Such is the nymph we want, all warmth and light,
“To crown the rich temptations of to-night;
“Such the refin’d enchantress that must be
“This hero’s vanquisher,—and thou art she!”

With her hands clasp’d, her lips apart and pale,
The maid had stood, gazing upon the Veil
From which these words, like south winds through a fence
Of Kerzrah flowers, came fill’d with pestilence;[55]
So boldly utter’d too! as if all dread
Of frowns from her, of virtuous frowns, were fled,
And the wretch felt assur’d that, once plung’d in,
Her woman’s soul would know no pause in sin!

At first, though mute she listen’d, like a dream
Seem’d all he said: nor could her mind, whose beam
As yet was weak, penetrate half his scheme.
But when, at length, he utter’d, “Thou art she!”
All flash’d at once, and shrieking piteously,
“Oh not for worlds!” she cried—“Great God! to whom
“I once knelt innocent, is this my doom?
“Are all my dreams, my hopes of heavenly bliss,
“My purity, my pride, then come to this,—
“To live, the wanton of a fiend! to be
“The pander of his guilt—oh infamy!
“And sunk, myself, as low as hell can steep
“In its hot flood, drag others down as deep!
“Others—ha! yes—that youth who came to-day—
“_Not_ him I lov’d—not him—oh! do but say,
“But swear to me this moment ’tis not he,
“And I will serve, dark fiend, will worship even thee!”

“Beware, young raving thing!—in time beware,
“Nor utter what I cannot, must not bear,
“Even from _thy_ lips. Go—try thy lute, thy voice,
“The boy must feel their magic;—I rejoice
“To see those fires, no matter whence they rise,
“Once more illuming my fair Priestess’ eyes;
“And should the youth, whom soon those eyes shall warm,
“_Indeed_ resemble thy dead lover’s form,
“So much the happier wilt thou find thy doom,
“As one warm lover, full of life and bloom,
“Excels ten thousand cold ones in the tomb.
“Nay, nay, no frowning, sweet!—those eyes were made
“For love, not anger—I must be obey’d.”

“Obey’d!—’tis well—yes, I deserve it all—
“On me, on me Heaven’s vengeance cannot fall
“Too heavily—but AZIM, brave and true
“And beautiful—must _he_ be ruin’d too?
“Must _he_ too, glorious as he is, be driven
“A renegade like me from Love and Heaven?
“Like me?—weak wretch, I wrong him—not like me;
“No—he’s all truth and strength and purity!
“Fill up your madd’ning hell-cup to the brim,
“Its witch’ry, fiends, will have no charm for him.
“Let loose your glowing wantons from their bowers,
“He loves, he loves, and can defy their powers!
“Wretch as I am, in _his_ heart still I reign
“Pure as when first we met, without a stain!
“Though ruin’d—lost—my memory, like a charm
“Left by the dead, still keeps his soul from harm.
“Oh! never let him know how deep the brow
“He kiss’d at parting is dishonour’d now;—
“Ne’er tell him how debas’d, how sunk is she,
“Whom once he lov’d—once!—_still_ loves dotingly.
“Thou laugh’st, tormentor,—what!—thou’lt brand my name?
“Do, do—in vain—he’ll not believe my shame—
“He thinks me true, that nought beneath God’s sky
“Could tempt or change me, and—so once thought I.
“But this is past—though worse than death my lot,
“Than hell—’tis nothing while _he_ knows it not.
“Far off to some benighted land I’ll fly,
“Where sunbeam ne’er shall enter till I die;
“Where none will ask the lost one whence she came,
“But I may fade and fall without a name.
“And thou—curst man or fiend, whate’er thou art,
“Who found’st this burning plague-spot in my heart,
“And spread’st it—oh, so quick!—through soul and frame,
“With more than demon’s art, till I became
“A loathsome thing, all pestilence, all flame!—
“If when I’m gone⸺”

“Hold, fearless maniac, hold,
“Nor tempt my rage—by Heaven, not half so bold
“The puny bird, that dares with teasing hum
“Within the crocodile’s stretch’d jaws to come![56]
“And so thou’lt fly, forsooth?—what!—give up all
“Thy chaste dominion in the Haram Hall,
“Where now to Love and now to ALLA given,
“Half mistress and half saint, thou hang’st as even
“As doth MEDINA’S tomb, ’twixt hell and heaven!
“Thou’lt fly!—as easily may reptiles run,
“The gaunt snake once hath fix’d his eyes upon;
“As easily, when caught, the prey may be
“Pluck’d from his loving folds, as thou from me.
“No, no, ’tis fix’d—let good or ill betide,
“Thou’rt mine till death, till death MOKANNA’S bride!
“Hast thou forgot thy oath?”

At this dread word,
The Maid, whose spirit his rude taunts had stirr’d
Through all its depth, and rous’d an anger there,
That burst and lighten’d ev’n through her despair—
Shrunk back, as if a blight were in the breath
That spoke that word, and stagger’d, pale as death.

“Yes, my sworn bride, let others seek in bowers
“Their bridal place—the charnel vault was ours!
“Instead of scents and balms, for thee and me
“Rose the rich steams of sweet mortality;
“Gay, flickering death-lights shone while we were wed,
“And, for our guests, a row of goodly Dead.
“(Immortal spirits in their time, no doubt,)
“From reeking shrouds upon the rite look’d out!
“That oath thou heard’st more lips than thine repeat—
“That cup—thou shudd’rest, Lady,—was it sweet?
“That cup we pledg’d, the charnel’s choicest wine,
“Hath bound thee—ay—body and soul all mine;
“Bound thee by chains that, whether blest or curst
“No matter now, not hell itself shall burst!
“Hence, woman, to the Haram, and look gay,
“Look wild, look—any thing but sad; yet stay—
“One moment more—from what this night hath pass’d,
“I see thou know’st me, know’st me _well_ at last.
“Ha! ha! and so, fond thing, thou thought’st all true,
“And that I love mankind?—I do, I do—
“As victims, love them; as the sea-dog doats
“Upon the small, sweet fry that round him floats;
“Or, as the Nile-bird loves the slime that gives
“That rank and venomous food on which she lives![57]—

“And, now thou seest my _soul’s_ angelic hue,
“’Tis time these _features_ were uncurtain’d too;—
“This brow, whose light—oh rare celestial light!
“Hath been reserv’d to bless thy favour’d sight;
“These dazzling eyes, before whose shrouded might
“Thou’st seen immortal Man kneel down and quake—
“Would that they _were_ heaven’s lightnings for his sake!
“But turn and look—then wonder, if thou wilt,
“That I should hate, should take revenge, by guilt,
“Upon the hand, whose mischief or whose mirth
“Sent me thus maim’d and monstrous upon earth;
“And on that race who, though more vile they be
“Than mowing apes, are demi-gods to me!
“Here—judge if hell, with all its power to damn,
“Can add one curse to the foul thing I am!”

He raised his veil—the Maid turn’d slowly round,
Look’d at him—shriek’d—and sunk upon the ground!

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On their arrival, next night, at the place of encampment, they were surprised and delighted to find the groves all around illuminated; some artists of Yamtcheou[58] having been sent on previously for the purpose. On each side of the green alley, which led to the Royal Pavilion, artificial sceneries of bamboo-work[59] were erected, representing arches, minarets, and towers, from which hung thousands of silken lanterns, painted by the most delicate pencils of Canton.—Nothing could be more beautiful than the leaves of the mango-trees and acacias, shining in the light of the bamboo-scenery, which shed a lustre round as soft as that of the nights of Peristan.

LALLA ROOKH, however, who was too much occupied by the sad story of ZELICA and her lover, to give a thought to anything else, except, perhaps, him who related it, hurried on through this scene of splendour to her pavilion,—greatly to the mortification of the poor artists of Yamtcheou,—and was followed with equal rapidity by the Great Chamberlain, cursing, as he went, that ancient Mandarin, whose parental anxiety in lighting up the shores of the lake, where his beloved daughter had wandered and been lost, was the origin of these fantastic Chinese illuminations.[60]

Without a moment’s delay, young FERAMORZ was introduced, and FADLADEEN, who could never make up his mind as to the merits of a poet till he knew the religious sect to which he belonged, was about to ask him whether he was a Shia or a Sooni, when LALLA ROOKH impatiently clapped her hands for silence, and the youth, being seated upon the musnud near her, proceeded:—

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Prepare thy soul, young AZIM!—thou hast brav’d
The bands of GREECE, still mighty though enslav’d;
Hast fac’d her phalanx, arm’d with all its fame,
Her Macedonian pikes and globes of flame;
All this hast fronted, with firm heart and brow,
But a more perilous trial waits thee now,—
Woman’s bright eyes, a dazzling host of eyes
From every land where woman smiles or sighs;
Of every hue, as Love may chance to raise
His black or azure banner in their blaze;
And each sweet mode of warfare, from the flash
That lightens boldly through the shadowy lash,
To the sly, stealing splendours, almost hid,
Like swords half-sheath’d, beneath the downcast lid:—
Such, AZIM, is the lovely, luminous host
Now led against thee; and, let conquerors boast
Their fields of fame, he who in virtue arms
A young, warm spirit against beauty’s charms,
Who feels her brightness, yet defies her thrall,
Is the best, bravest conqueror of them all.

Now, through the Haram chambers, moving lights
And busy shapes proclaim the toilet’s rites;—
From room to room the ready handmaids hie,
Some skill’d to wreath the turban tastefully,
Or hang the veil, in negligence of shade,
O’er the warm blushes of the youthful maid,
Who, if between the folds but _one_ eye shone,
Like SEBA’S Queen could vanquish with that one:—[61]
While some bring leaves of Henna, to imbue
The fingers’ ends with a bright roseate hue,[62]
So bright, that in the mirror’s depth they seem
Like tips of coral branches in the stream;
And others mix the Kohol’s jetty dye,
To give that long, dark languish to the eye,[63]
Which makes the maids, whom kings are proud to cull
From fair Circassia’s vales, so beautiful.
All is in motion; rings and plumes and pearls
Are shining every where:—some younger girls
Are gone by moonlight to the garden beds,
To gather fresh, cool chaplets for their heads;—
Gay creatures! sweet, though mournful, ’tis to see
How each prefers a garland from that tree
Which brings to mind her childhood’s innocent day,
And the dear fields and friendships far away.
The maid of INDIA, blest again to hold
In her full lap the Champac’s leaves of gold,[64]
Thinks of the time when, by the GANGES’ flood,
Her little playmates scatter’d many a bud
Upon her long black hair, with glossy gleam
Just dripping from the consecrated stream;
While the young Arab, haunted by the smell
Of her own mountain flowers, as by a spell,—
The sweet Elcaya,[65] and that courteous tree
Which bows to all who seek its canopy,[66]
Sees, call’d up round her by these magic scents,
The well, the camels, and her father’s tents;
Sighs for the home she left with little pain,
And wishes even its sorrows back again!

Meanwhile, through vast illuminated halls,
Silent and bright, where nothing but the falls
Of fragrant waters, gushing with cool sound
From many a jasper fount, is heard around,
Young AZIM roams bewilder’d,—nor can guess
What means this maze of light and loneliness.
Here, the way leads, o’er tessellated floors
Or mats of CAIRO, through long corridors,
Where, rang’d in cassolets and silver urns,
Sweet wood of aloe or of sandal burns;
And spicy rods, such as illume at night
The bowers of TIBET,[67] send forth odorous light,
Like Peris’ wands, when pointing out the road
For some pure Spirit to its blest abode:—
And here, at once, the glittering saloon
Bursts on his sight, boundless and bright as noon;
Where, in the midst, reflecting back the rays
In broken rainbows, a fresh fountain plays
High as the’ enamell’d cupola, which towers
All rich with Arabesques of gold and flowers:
And the mosaic floor beneath shines through
The sprinkling of that fountain’s silv’ry dew,
Like the wet, glistening shells, of every dye,
That on the margin of the Red Sea lie.

Here too he traces the kind visitings
Of woman’s love in those fair, living things
Of land and wave, whose fate—in bondage thrown
For their weak loveliness—is like her own!
On one side gleaming with a sudden grace
Through water, brilliant as the crystal vase
In which it undulates, small fishes shine,
Like golden ingots from a fairy mine;—
While, on the other, latticed lightly in
With odoriferous woods of COMORIN,[68]
Each brilliant bird that wings the air is seen;—
Gay, sparkling loories, such as gleam between
The crimson blossoms of the coral tree[69]
In the warm Isles of India’s sunny sea:
Mecca’s blue sacred pigeon,[70] and the thrush
Of Hindostan,[71] whose holy warblings gush,
At evening, from the tall pagoda’s top;—
Those golden birds that, in the spice-time, drop
About the gardens, drunk with that sweet food[72]
Whose scent hath lur’d them o’er the summer flood;[73]
And those that under Araby’s soft sun
Build their high nests of budding cinnamon:[74]
In short, all rare and beauteous things, that fly
Through the pure element, here calmly lie
Sleeping in light, like the green birds[75] that dwell
In Eden’s radiant fields of asphodel!

So on, through scenes past all imagining,
More like the luxuries of that impious King,[76]
Whom Death’s dark angel, with his lightning torch,
Struck down and blasted even in Pleasure’s porch,
Than the pure dwelling of a Prophet sent,
Arm’d with Heaven’s sword, for man’s enfranchisement—
Young AZIM wander’d, looking sternly round,
His simple garb and war-boots’ clanking sound
But ill according with the pomp and grace
And silent lull of that voluptuous place.

“Is this, then,” thought the youth, “is this the way
“To free man’s spirit from the dead’ning sway
“Of worldly sloth,—to teach him while he lives,
“To know no bliss but that which virtue gives,
“And when he dies, to leave his lofty name
“A light, a landmark on the cliffs of fame?
“It was not so, Land of the generous thought
“And daring deed, thy godlike sages taught;
“It was not thus, in bowers of wanton ease,
“Thy Freedom nurs’d her sacred energies;
“Oh! not beneath the’ enfeebling, withering glow
“Of such dull luxury did those myrtles grow,
“With which she wreath’d her sword, when she would dare
“Immortal deeds; but in the bracing air
“Of toil,—of temperance,—of that high, rare,
“Ethereal virtue, which alone can breathe
“Life, health, and lustre into Freedom’s wreath.
“Who, that surveys this span of earth we press,—
“This speck of life in time’s great wilderness,
“This narrow isthmus ’twixt two boundless seas,
“The past, the future, two eternities!—
“Would sully the bright spot, or leave it bare,
“When he might build him a proud temple there,
“A name, that long shall hallow all its space,
“And be each purer soul’s high resting-place?
“But no—it cannot be, that one, whom God
“Hath sent to break the wizard Falsehood’s rod,—
“A Prophet of the Truth, whose mission draws
“Its rights from Heaven, should thus profane its cause
“With the world’s vulgar pomps;—no, no,—I see—
“He thinks me weak—this glare of luxury
“Is but to tempt, to try the eaglet gaze
“Of my young soul—shine on, ’twill stand the blaze!”

So thought the youth;—but, ev’n while he defied
This witching scene, he felt its witchery glide
Through ev’ry sense. The perfume breathing round,
Like a pervading spirit;—the still sound
Of falling waters, lulling as the song
Of Indian bees at sunset, when they throng
Around the fragrant NILICA, and deep
In its blue blossoms hum themselves to sleep;[77]
And music, too—dear music! that can touch
Beyond all else the soul that loves it much—
Now heard far off, so far as but to seem
Like the faint, exquisite music of a dream;
All was too much for him, too full of bliss,
The heart could nothing feel, that felt not this;
Soften’d he sunk upon a couch, and gave
His soul up to sweet thoughts, like wave on wave
Succeeding to smooth seas, when storms are laid;
He thought of ZELICA, his own dear maid,
And of the time, when, full of blissful sighs,
They sat and look’d into each other’s eyes,
Silent and happy—as if God had given
Nought else worth looking at on this side heaven.

“Oh, my lov’d mistress, thou, whose spirit still
“Is with me, round me, wander where I will—
“It is for thee, for thee alone I seek
“The paths of glory; to light up thy cheek
“With warm approval—in that gentle look
“To read my praise, as in an angel’s book,
“And think all toils rewarded, when from thee
“I gain a smile worth immortality!
“How shall I bear the moment when restor’d
“To that young heart where I alone am Lord,
“Though of such bliss unworthy,—since the best
“Alone deserve to be the happiest;—
“When from those lips, unbreath’d upon for years,
“I shall again kiss off the soul-felt tears,
“And find those tears warm as when last they started,
“Those sacred kisses pure as when we parted?
“O my own life!—why should a single day,
“A moment keep me from those arms away?”

While thus he thinks, still nearer on the breeze
Come those delicious, dream-like harmonies,
Each note of which but adds new, downy links
To the soft chain in which his spirit sinks.
He turns him tow’rd the sound, and far away
Through a long vista, sparkling with the play
Of countless lamps,—like the rich track which Day
Leaves on the waters, when he sinks from us,
So long the path, its light so tremulous;—
He sees a group of female forms advance,
Some chain’d together in the mazy dance
By fetters, forg’d in the green sunny bowers,
As they were captives to the King of Flowers;[78]
And some disporting round, unlink’d and free,
Who seem’d to mock their sisters’ slavery;
And round and round them still, in wheeling flight,
Went, like gay moths about a lamp at night;
While others walk’d, as gracefully along
Their feet kept time, the very soul of song,
From psaltery, pipe, and lutes of heavenly thrill,
Or their own youthful voices, heavenlier still.
And now they come, now pass before his eye,
Forms such as Nature moulds, when she would vie
With Fancy’s pencil, and give birth to things
Lovely beyond its fairest picturings.
Awhile they dance before him, then divide,
Breaking, like rosy clouds at even-tide
Around the rich pavilion of the sun,—
Till silently dispersing, one by one
Through many a path, that from the chamber leads
To gardens, terraces, and moonlight meads,
Their distant laughter comes upon the wind,
And but one trembling nymph remains behind,—
Beck’ning them back in vain, for they are gone,
And she is left in all that light alone;
No veil to curtain o’er her beauteous brow,
In its young bashfulness more beauteous now;
But a light golden chain-work round her hair,[79]
Such as the maids of YEZD[80] and SHIRAS wear,
From which, on either side, gracefully hung
A golden amulet, in the Arab tongue,
Engraven o’er with some immortal line
From Holy Writ, or bard scarce less divine;
While her left hand, as shrinkingly she stood,
Held a small lute of gold and sandal-wood,
Which, once or twice, she touch’d with hurried strain,
Then took her trembling fingers off again.
But when at length a timid glance she stole
At AZIM, the sweet gravity of soul
She saw through all his features calm’d her fear,
And, like a half-tam’d antelope, more near,
Though shrinking still, she came;—then sat her down
Upon a musnud’s[81] edge, and, bolder grown,
In the pathetic mode of ISFAHAN[82]
Touch’d a preluding strain, and thus began:—

--------------

There’s a bower of roses by BENDEMEER’S[83] stream,
And the nightingale sings round it all the day long;
In the time of my childhood ’twas like a sweet dream,
To sit in the roses and hear the bird’s song.

That bower and its music I never forget,
But oft when alone in the bloom of the year,
I think—is the nightingale singing there yet?
Are the roses still bright by the calm BENDEMEER?

No, the roses soon wither’d that hung o’er the wave,
But some blossoms were gather’d, while freshly they shone,
And a dew was distill’d from their flowers, that gave
All the fragrance of summer, when summer was gone.

Thus memory draws from delight, ere it dies,
An essence that breathes of it many a year;
Thus bright to my soul, as ’twas then to my eyes,
Is that bower on the banks of the calm BENDEMEER.

--------------

“Poor maiden!” thought the youth, “if thou wert sent,
“With thy soft lute and beauty’s blandishment,
“To wake unholy wishes in this heart,
“Or tempt its truth, thou little know’st the art.
“For though thy lip should sweetly counsel wrong,
“Those vestal eyes would disavow its song.
“But thou hast breath’d such purity, thy lay
“Returns so fondly to youth’s virtuous day,
“And leads thy soul—if e’er it wander’d thence—
“So gently back to its first innocence,
“That I would sooner stop the unchained dove,
“When swift returning to its home of love,
“And round its snowy wing new fetters twine,
“Than turn from virtue one pure wish of thine!”

Scarce had this feeling pass’d, when, sparkling through
The gently open’d curtains of light blue
That veil’d the breezy casement, countless eyes,
Peeping like stars through the blue evening skies,
Look’d laughing in, as if to mock the pair
That sat so still and melancholy there:—
And now the curtains fly apart, and in
From the cool air, ’mid showers of jessamine
Which those without fling after them in play,
Two lightsome maidens spring,—lightsome as they
Who live in the’ air on odours,—and around
The bright saloon, scarce conscious of the ground,
Chase one another, in a varying dance
Of mirth and languor, coyness and advance,
Too eloquently like love’s warm pursuit:—
While she, who sung so gently to the lute
Her dream of home, steals timidly away,
Shrinking as violets do in summer’s ray,—
But takes with her from AZIM’S heart that sigh
We sometimes give to forms that pass us by
In the world’s crowd, too lovely to remain,
Creatures of light we never see again!

Around the white necks of the nymphs who danc’d
Hung carcanets of orient gems, that glanc’d
More brilliant than the sea-glass glittering o’er
The hills of crystal on the Caspian shore;[84]
While from their long, dark tresses, in a fall
Of curls descending, bells as musical
As those that, on the golden-shafted trees
Of EDEN, shake in the eternal breeze,[85]
Rung round their steps, at every bound more sweet,
As ’twere the’ extatic language of their feet.
At length the chase was o’er, and they stood wreath’d
Within each other’s arms; while soft there breath’d
Through the cool casement, mingled with the sighs
Of moonlight flowers, music that seem’d to rise
From some still lake, so liquidly it rose;
And, as it swell’d again at each faint close,
The ear could track, through all that maze of chords
And young sweet voices, these impassion’d words;—

--------------

A SPIRIT there is, whose fragrant sigh
Is burning now through earth and air:
Where cheeks are blushing, the Spirit is nigh;
Where lips are meeting, the Spirit is there!

His breath is the soul of flowers like these,
And his floating eyes—oh! _they_ resemble[86]
Blue water-lilies,[87] when the breeze
Is making the stream around them tremble.

Hail to thee, hail to thee, kindling power!
Spirit of Love, Spirit of Bliss!
Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour,
And there never was moonlight so sweet as this.

By the fair and brave
Who blushing unite,
Like the sun and wave,
When they meet at night;

By the tear that shows
When passion is nigh,
As the rain-drop flows
From the heat of the sky;

By the first love-beat
Of the youthful heart,
By the bliss to meet,
And the pain to part;

By all that thou hast
To mortals given,
Which—oh, could it last,
This earth were heaven!

We call thee hither, entrancing Power!
Spirit of Love! Spirit of Bliss!
Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour,
And there never was moonlight so sweet as this.

--------------

Impatient of a scene, whose luxuries stole,
Spite of himself, too deep into his soul,
And where, midst all that the young heart loves most,
Flowers, music, smiles, to yield was to be lost,
The youth had started up, and turn’d away
From the light nymphs, and their luxurious lay,
To muse upon the pictures that hung round,—[88]
Bright images, that spoke without a sound,
And views, like vistas into fairy ground.
But here again new spells came o’er his sense:—
All that the pencil’s mute omnipotence
Could call up into life, of soft and fair,
Of fond and passionate, was glowing there;
Nor yet too warm, but touched with that fine art
Which paints of pleasure but the purer part;
Which knows even Beauty when half-veil’d is best,—
Like her own radiant planet of the west,
Whose orb when half retir’d looks loveliest.[89]
_There_ hung the history of the Genii-King,
Traced through each gay, voluptuous wandering
With her from SABA’S bowers, in whose bright eyes
He read that to be blest is to be wise;—[90]
_Here_ fond ZULEIKA[91] woos with open arms
The Hebrew boy, who flies from her young charms,
Yet, flying, turns to gaze, and, half undone,
Wishes that Heaven and she could _both_ be won;
And here MOHAMMED, born for love and guile,
Forgets the Koran in his MARY’S smile;—
Then beckons some kind angel from above
With a new text to consecrate their love.[92]

With rapid step, yet pleas’d and ling’ring eye,
Did the youth pass these pictur’d stories by,
And hasten’d to a casement, where the light
Of the calm moon came in, and freshly bright
The fields without were seen, sleeping as still
As if no life remain’d in breeze or rill.
Here paus’d he, while the music, now less near,
Breath’d with a holier language on his ear,
As though the distance, and that heavenly ray
Through which the sounds came floating, took away
All that had been too earthly in the lay.

Oh! could he listen to such sounds unmov’d,
And by that light—nor dream of her he lov’d?
Dream on, unconscious boy! while yet thou may’st;
’Tis the last bliss thy soul shall ever taste.
Clasp yet awhile her image to thy heart,
Ere all the light, that made it dear, depart.
Think of her smiles as when thou saw’st them last,
Clear, beautiful, by nought of earth o’ercast;
Recall her tears, to thee at parting given,
Pure as they weep, _if_ angels weep, in Heaven.
Think, in her own still bower she waits thee now,
With the same glow of heart and bloom of brow,
Yet shrin’d in solitude—thine all, thine only,
Like the one star above thee, bright and lonely.
Oh! that a dream so sweet, so long enjoy’d,
Should be so sadly, cruelly destroy’d!

The song is hush’d, the laughing nymphs are flown,
And he is left, musing of bliss, alone;—
Alone?—no, not alone—that heavy sigh,
That sob of grief, which broke from some one nigh—
Whose could it be?—alas! is misery found
Here, even here, on this enchanted ground?
He turns, and sees a female form, close veil’d,
Leaning, as if both heart and strength had fail’d,
Against a pillar near;—not glittering o’er
With gems and wreaths, such as the others wore,
But in that deep-blue, melancholy dress,[93]
BOKHARA’S maidens wear in mindfulness
Of friends or kindred, dead or far away;—
And such as ZELICA had on that day
He left her—when, with heart too full to speak,
He took away her last warm tears upon his cheek.

A strange emotion stirs within him,—more
Than mere compassion ever wak’d before;
Unconsciously he opes his arms, while she
Springs forward, as with life’s last energy,
But, swooning in that one convulsive bound,
Sinks, ere she reach his arms, upon the ground;—
Her veil falls off—her faint hands clasp his knees—
’Tis she herself!—’tis ZELICA he sees!
But, ah, so pale, so chang’d—none but a lover
Could in that wreck of beauty’s shrine discover
The once ador’d divinity—even he
Stood for some moments mute, and doubtingly
Put back the ringlets from her brow, and gaz’d
Upon those lids, where once such lustre blaz’d,
Ere he could think she was _indeed_ his own,
Own darling maid, whom he so long had known
In joy and sorrow, beautiful in both;
Who, even when grief was heaviest—when loth
He left her for the wars—in that worst hour
Sat in her sorrow like the sweet night-flower,[94]
When darkness brings its weeping glories out,
And spreads its sighs like frankincense about.

“Look up, my ZELICA—one moment show
“Those gentle eyes to me, that I may know
“Thy life, thy loveliness is not all gone,
“But _there_, at least, shines as it ever shone.
“Come, look upon thy AZIM—one dear glance,
“Like those of old, were heaven! whatever chance
“Hath brought thee here, oh, ’twas a blessed one!
“There—my lov’d lips—they move—that kiss hath run
“Like the first shoot of life through every vein,
“And now I clasp her, mine, all mine again.
“Oh the delight—now, in this very hour,
“When had the whole rich world been in my power,
“I should have singled out thee, only thee,
“From the whole world’s collected treasury—
“To have thee here—to hang thus fondly o’er
“My own, best, purest ZELICA once more!”

It was indeed the touch of those fond lips
Upon her eyes that chas’d their short eclipse,
And, gradual as the snow, at Heaven’s breath,
Melts off and shows the azure flowers beneath,
Her lids unclos’d, and the bright eyes were seen
Gazing on his—not, as they late had been,
Quick, restless, wild, but mournfully serene;
As if to lie, even for that tranced minute,
So near his heart, had consolation in it;
And thus to wake in his belov’d caress
Took from her soul one half its wretchedness.
But, when she heard him call her good and pure,
Oh, ’twas too much—too dreadful to endure!
Shudd’ring she broke away from his embrace,
And, hiding with both hands her guilty face,
Said, in a tone whose anguish would have riven
A heart of very marble, “Pure!—oh Heaven!”—

That tone—those looks so chang’d—the withering blight,
That sin and sorrow leave where’er they light;
The dead despondency of those sunk eyes,
Where once, had he thus met her by surprise,
He would have seen himself, too happy boy,
Reflected in a thousand lights of joy;
And then the place,—that bright, unholy place,
Where vice lay hid beneath each winning grace
And charm of luxury, as the viper weaves
Its wily covering of sweet balsam leaves,—[95]
All struck upon his heart, sudden and cold
As death itself;—it needs not to be told—
No, no—he sees it all, plain as the brand
Of burning shame can mark—whate’er the hand,
That could from Heaven and him such brightness sever,
’Tis done—to Heaven and him she’s lost for ever!
It was a dreadful moment; not the tears,
The lingering, lasting misery of years
Could match that minute’s anguish—all the worst
Of sorrow’s elements in that dark burst
Broke o’er his soul, and, with one crash of fate,
Laid the whole hopes of his life desolate.

“Oh! curse me not,” she cried, as wild he toss’d
His desperate hand tow’rds Heaven—“though I am lost,
“Think not that guilt, that falsehood made me fall,
“No, no—’twas grief, ’twas madness did it all!
“Nay, doubt me not—though all thy love hath ceas’d—
“I know it hath—yet, yet believe, at least,
“That every spark of reason’s light must be
“Quench’d in this brain, ere I could stray from thee.
“They told me thou wert dead—why, AZIM, why
“Did we not, both of us, that instant die
“When we were parted? oh! could’st thou but know
“With what a deep devotedness of woe
“I wept thy absence—o’er and o’er again
“Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew pain,
“And memory, like a drop that, night and day,
“Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away.
“Didst thou but know how pale I sat at home,
“My eyes still turn’d the way thou wert to come,
“And, all the long, long night of hope and fear,
“Thy voice and step still sounding in my ear—
“Oh God! thou would’st not wonder that, at last,
“When every hope was all at once o’ercast,
“When I heard frightful voices round me say
“_Azim is dead!_—this wretched brain gave way,
“And I became a wreck, at random driven,
“Without one glimpse of reason or of Heaven—
“All wild—and even this quenchless love within
“Turn’d to foul fires to light me into sin!—
“Thou pitiest me—I knew thou would’st—that sky
“Hath nought beneath it half so lorn as I.
“The fiend, who lur’d me hither—hist! come near,
“Or thou too, _thou_ art lost, if he should hear—
“Told me such things—oh! with such devilish art
“As would have ruin’d even a holier heart—
“Of thee, and of that ever-radiant sphere,
“Where bless’d at length, if I but serv’d _him_ here,
“I should for ever live in thy dear sight,—
“And drink from those pure eyes eternal light.
“Think, think how lost, how madden’d I must be,
“To hope that guilt could lead to God or thee!
“Thou weep’st for me—do weep—oh, that I durst
“Kiss off that tear! but, no—these lips are curst,
“They must not touch thee;—one divine caress,
“One blessed moment of forgetfulness
“I’ve had within those arms, and _that_ shall lie,
“Shrin’d in my soul’s deep memory till I die;
“The last of joy’s last relics here below,
“The one sweet drop, in all this waste of woe,
“My heart has treasur’d from affection’s spring,
“To soothe and cool its deadly withering!
“But thou—yes, thou must go—for ever go;
“This place is not for thee—for thee! oh no,
“Did I but tell thee half, thy tortur’d brain
“Would burn like mine, and mine grow wild again!
“Enough, that Guilt reigns here—that hearts, once good,
“Now tainted, chill’d, and broken, are his food.—
“Enough, that we are parted—that there rolls
“A flood of headlong fate between our souls,
“Whose darkness severs me as wide from thee
“As hell from heaven, to all eternity!”

“ZELICA, ZELICA!” the youth exclaim’d,
In all the tortures of a mind inflam’d
Almost to madness—“by that sacred Heaven,
“Where yet, if prayers can move, thou’lt be forgiven,
“As thou art here—here, in this writhing heart,
“All sinful, wild, and ruin’d as thou art!
“By the remembrance of our once pure love,
“Which, like a church-yard light, still burns above
“The grave of our lost souls—which guilt in thee
“Cannot extinguish, nor despair in me!
“I do conjure, implore thee to fly hence—
“If thou hast yet one spark of innocence,
“Fly with me from this place⸺”
“With thee! oh bliss!
“’Tis worth whole years of torment to hear this.
“What! take the lost one with thee?—let her rove
“By thy dear side, as in those days of love,
“When we were both so happy, both so pure—
“Too heavenly dream! if there’s on earth a cure
“For the sunk heart, ’tis this—day after day
“To be the blest companion of thy way;
“To hear thy angel eloquence—to see
“Those virtuous eyes for ever turn’d on me;
“And, in their light re-chasten’d silently,
“Like the stain’d web that whitens in the sun,
“Grow pure by being purely shone upon!
“And thou wilt pray for me—I know thou wilt—
“At the dim vesper hour, when thoughts of guilt
“Come heaviest o’er the heart, thou’lt lift thine eyes,
“Full of sweet tears, unto the dark’ning skies,
“And plead for me with Heaven, till I can dare
“To fix my own weak, sinful glances there;
“Till the good angels, when they see me cling
“For ever near thee, pale and sorrowing,
“Shall for thy sake pronounce my soul forgiven,
“And bid thee take thy weeping slave to Heaven!
“Oh yes, I’ll fly with thee⸺”

Scarce had she said
These breathless words, when a voice deep and dread
As that of MONKER, waking up the dead
From their first sleep—so startling ’twas to both—
Rung through the casement near, “Thy oath! thy oath!”
Oh Heaven, the ghastliness of that Maid’s look!—
“’Tis he,” faintly she cried, while terror shook
Her inmost core, nor durst she lift her eyes,
Though through the casement, now, nought but the skies
And moonlight fields were seen, calm as before—
“’Tis he, and I am his—all, all is o’er—
“Go—fly this instant, or thou’rt ruin’d too—
“My oath, my oath, oh God! ’tis all too true,
“True as the worm in this cold heart it is—
“I am MOKANNA’S bride—his, AZIM, his—
“The Dead stood round us, while I spoke that vow,
“Their blue lips echo’d it—I hear them now!
“Their eyes glar’d on me, while I pledg’d that bowl,
“’Twas burning blood—I feel it in my soul!
“And the Veil’d Bridegroom—hist! I’ve seen to-night
“What angels know not of—so foul a sight,
“So horrible—oh! never may’st thou see
“What _there_ lies hid from all but hell and me!
“But I must hence—off, off—I am not thine,
“Nor Heaven’s, nor Love’s, nor aught that is divine—
“Hold me not—ha! think’st thou the fiends that sever
“Hearts, cannot sunder hands?—thus, then—for ever!”

With all that strength, which madness lends the weak,
She flung away his arm; and, with a shriek,
Whose sound, though he should linger out more years
Than wretch e’er told, can never leave his ears—
Flew up through that long avenue of light,
Fleetly as some dark, ominous bird of night
Across the sun, and soon was out of sight!

------------------------------------------------------------------------

LALLA ROOKH could think of nothing all day but the misery of these two young lovers. Her gaiety was gone, and she looked pensively even upon FADLADEEN. She felt, too, without knowing why, a sort of uneasy pleasure in imagining that AZIM must have been just such a youth as FERAMORZ; just as worthy to enjoy all the blessings, without any of the pangs, of that illusive passion which too often, like the sunny apples of Istkahar,[96] is all sweetness on one side, and all bitterness on the other.