But still shall Reason's conscious reign
Unbroken, undisturbed remain,
And thou shalt hear, and feel, and know
Each sigh, each touch, each throb of woe!"
Go, thou! and if Amreta be
Worthy of love, and worthy thee,
When she beholds thee pale and cold,
Wrapped in the damp sepulchral fold; -
When her eye wanders for that glow
Once burning on thy marble brow;
Then, if her bosom's icy frame
Hath ever warmed 'neath passion's flame,
'T will heave tumultuous as it glows
Like Baikal's everlasting throes;
And if, to-morrow eve, you press
This pale cold flow'ret to your breast,
Ere morning smiles, its spell will prove
If that cold heart BE WORTH thy love! -
THERE's silence in the princely halls,
And brightly blaze the lighted walls,
While clouds of musk and incense rise
From vases of a thousand dyes,
And roll their perfumed treasures wide,
In one luxuriant, fragrant tide;
And glittering chandeliers of gold,
Reflecting fire from every fold,
Hung o'er the shrouded body there,
Of Cashmere's once proud Subahdar!
The crystal's and the diamond's rays
Kindled a wide and brilliant blaze;
The ruby's blush, the coral's hue,
By Peris dipped in Henni's dew,
The topaz's rich and golden ray,
The opal's flame - the agate grey,
The amethyst of violet hue,
The sapphire with its heav'nly blue,
The snow-white jasper sparkling there
Near the carbuncle's deep'ning glare;
The warm cornelian's blushing glow
Reflected back the brilliant flow
Of light, which in refulgent streams,
O'er hall, o'er bower, and fountain beams.
O'er beds of roses, bright with dew,
Unfolding modestly to view,
Each trembling leaf, each blushing breast,
In Cashmere's wildest sweetness dressed;
Through vistas long, through myrtle bowers,
Where Amir Khan once passed his hours
In gazing on Amreta's face,
So full of beauty, full of grace,
Through veils of silver bright and clear,
It poured its softened radiance far;
Or beamed in pure and milky brightness,
O'er urns of alabaster whiteness;
Through Persian screens of glittering gold,
O'er many an altar's sacred fold,
Where to Eternity will blaze
The naphtha's never-fading rays,
The Gheber's fire which dieth never,
But burns, and beams, and glows for ever!
'Twas silent-not a voice was heard-
No sigh, no murmur, not one word,
Was echoed through that brilliant hall,
The spell of silence hung o'er all;
For there had paused the wing of death,
The midnight spirit's withering breath.
At that still hour no sound arose
To break the charm of deep repose;
The lake was glittering, and the breeze
Sighed softly through the the tzinnar trees,
And kissed the Wuller's wave of blue,
Or sipped the gull's light trembling dew;
But not a murmur, not a sigh
Was wafted by the night-breeze by,
Through that wide hall and princely bower,
At midnight's calm and solemn hour!
Oh! where was Love, his night-watch keeping?
Or was the truant sweetly sleeping?
Where was he at that hour of rest,
By him created, claimed, and blessed?
Where were the tears of Love, and Sorrow,
The sigh which sympathy can borrow?
Where were regret, and chill despair?
Where was Amreta?-where, Oh where?
Hark! 't is the night-breeze softly playing,
Through veils of glittering silver straying-
No! 'tis a step so quick, so light,
That the wild flower which weeps at night,
Would raise again its drooping head,
To greet the footstep which had fled.
Tis not the breeze which floats around,
Lifting the light veil from the ground:
No! 'tis a form of heav'nly mien
Hath dared to draw the curtain's screen.
Dimly, behind the fluttering veil,
Which trembles in the breathing gale,
A form appears of seraph mould
As 'neath a light cloud's fleecy fold;
The veil is drawn with hasty hand,
Loosed is the rich embroidered band-
'Tis solemn solitude around,
There's not a murmur, not a sound-
Again a snowy hand is seen,
Again is raised the silken screen,
And lo! with light and noiseless tread,
Amreta glided from its shade!
Her veil was fluttering in the air,
Her brow, as Parian marble fair,
Was glittering bright with many a gem
Set in a brilliant diadem;
Her long dark hair was floating far,
Braided with many a diamond star;
Her eye was raised, and Oh! that eye
Seemed only formed to gaze on high!
For Oh, more piercing bright its beam
Than diamonds 'neath Golconda's stream;
That angel-eye was only given
To look upon its native heaven!
The glow upon her cheek was bright,
But it came, and it fled like a meteor's light;
A brilliant tear was still lingering there,
And Oh, it was shed for the Subahdar!
O'er ev'ry tear the maiden shed,
The heart of Amir Khan had bled;
Now Amir Khan, she weeps for thee,
Oh! what must be thy ecstasy?
For Amir Khan Amreta weeps,
Yet Amir Khan unheeding sleeps!
Like crystal dew-drops purely glowing,
O'er his pale brow her tears are flowing;
She wipes them with her veil away,
Less sacred far-less sweet than they!
Where was that eye whose ardent gaze
Had warmed her bosom with its rays?
Where was that glance of love and woe?
Where was that proud heart's throbbing glow?
All, all was cold and silent there,
And all was death, and dark despair!
She hid her face, now cold and pale,
Within her sweetly scented veil;
Then seized her lute, and a strain so clear,
So soft, so mournful arose on the air,
That Oh! it was sweet as the music of heaven
O'er a lost one returning, a sinner forgiven!
Such notes as repentance in sorrow might sing,
Notes wafted to heaven by Israfil's wing:-
Star of the morning!-this bosom was cold,
When forced from my native shade,
And I wrapp'd me around in my mantle's fold,
A mournful Circassian maid!
I vowed that rapture should never move
This changeless cheek, this rayless eye,
I vowed to feel neither bliss, nor love, —
In silence to meet thee, and then to die!
Each burning sigh thy bosom hath breathed,
Has been melting that chain away;
The galling chain which around me I wreath'd,
On the morn of that fatal day!
|