[ROBERT] BURNS. [‘Ae fond kiss’, 11. 13–16]
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
LORD HOLLAND,
THIS TALE IS INSCRIBED, WITH EVERY SENTIMENT OF REGARD AND RESPECT, BY HIS GRATEFULLY OBLIGED AND SINCERE FRIEND,
BYRON
.
Canto the First | |
I | |
Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle | |
Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime, | |
Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, | |
Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime? | |
5 | Know ye the land of the cedar and vine, |
Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine; | |
Where the light wings of Zephyr oppressed with perfume, | |
Wax faint o’er the gardens of Gúl | |
Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit, | |
10 | And the voice of the nightingale never is mute: |
Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky, | |
In colour though varied, in beauty may vie, | |
And the purple of Ocean is deepest in dye; | |
Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine, | |
15 | And all, save the spirit of man, is divine? |
‘Tis the clime of the East; ‘tis the land of the Sun – | |
Can he smile on such deeds as his children have done? | |
Oh! wild as the accents of lovers’ farewell | |
Are the hearts which they bear, and the tales which they tell. | |
II | |
20 | Begirt with many a gallant slave, |
Apparell’d as becomes the brave, | |
Awaiting each his lord’s behest | |
To guide his steps, or guard his rest, | |
Old Giaffir sate in his Divan: | |
25 | Deep thought was in his aged eye; |
And though the face of Mussulman | |
Not oft betrays to standers by | |
The mind within, well skill’d to hide | |
All but unconquerable pride, | |
30 | His pensive cheek and pondering brow |
Did more than he was wont avow. | |
III | |
‘Let the chamber be clear’d.’ – The train disappear’d – | |
‘Now call me the chief of the Haram guard.’ | |
With Giaffir is none but his only son, | |
35 | And the Nubian awaiting the sire’s award. |
‘Haroun – when all the crowd that wait | |
Are pass’d beyond the outer gate, | |
(Woe to the head whose eye beheld | |
My child Zuleika’s face unveil’d!) | |
40 | Hence, lead my daughter from her tower; |
Her fate is fix’d this very hour: | |
Yet not to her repeat my thought; | |
By me alone be duty taught!’ | |
‘Pacha! to hear is to obey.’ | |
45 | No more must slave to despot say – |
Then to the tower had ta’en his way, | |
But here young Selim silence brake, | |
First lowly rendering reverence meet; | |
And downcast look’d, and gently spake, | |
50 | Still standing at the Pacha’s feet: |
For son of Moslem must expire, | |
Ere dare to sit before his sire! | |
‘Father! for fear that thou shouldst chide | |
My sister, or her sable guide, | |
55 | Know – for the fault, if fault there be, |
Was mine, then fall thy frowns on me – | |
So lovelily the morning shone, | |
That – let the old and weary sleep – | |
I could not; and to view alone | |
60 | The fairest scenes of land and deep, |
With none to listen and reply | |
To thoughts with which my heart beat high | |
Were irksome – for whate’er my mood, | |
In sooth I love not solitude; | |
65 | I on Zuleika’s slumber broke, |
And, as thou knowest that for me | |
Soon turns the Haram’s grating key, | |
Before the guardian slaves awoke | |
We to the cypress groves had flown, | |
70 | And made earth, main, and heaven our own! |
There linger’d we, beguiled too long | |
With Mejnoun’s tale, or Sadi’s song; | |
Till I, who heard the deep tambour | |
Beat thy Divan’s approaching hour, | |
75 | To thee, and to my duty true, |
Warn’d by the sound, to greet thee flew: | |
But there Zuleika wanders yet – | |
Nay, Father, rage not – nor forget | |
That none can pierce that secret bower | |
80 | But those who watch the women’s tower.’ |
IV | |
‘Son of a slave’ – the Pacha said – | |
‘From unbelieving mother bred, | |
Vain were a father’s hope to see | |
Aught that beseems a man in thee. | |
85 | Thou, when thine arm should bend the bow, |
And hurl the dart, and curb the steed, | |
Thou, Greek in soul if not in creed, | |
Must pore where babbling waters flow, | |
And watch unfolding roses blow. | |
90 | Would that yon orb, whose matin glow |
Thy listless eyes so much admire, | |
Would lend thee something of his fire! | |
Thou, who would’st see this battlement | |
By Christian cannon piecemeal rent; | |
95 | Nay, tamely view old Stambol’s wall |
Before the dogs of Moscow fall, | |
Nor strike one stroke for life and death | |
Against the curs of Nazareth! | |
Go – let thy less than woman’s hand | |
100 | Assume the distaff – not the brand. |
But, Haroun! – to my daughter speed: | |
And hark – of thine own head take heed – | |
If thus Zuleika oft takes wing – | |
Thou see’st yon bow – it hath a string!’ | |
V | |
105 | No sound from Selim’s lip was heard, |
At least that met old Giaffir’s ear, | |
But every frown and every word | |
Pierced keener than a Christian’s sword. | |
‘Son of a slave! – reproach’d with fear! | |
110 | Those gibes had cost another dear. |
Son of a slave! – and | |
Thus held his thoughts their dark career; | |
And glances ev’n of more than ire | |
Flash forth, then faintly disappear. | |
115 | Old Giaffir gazed upon his son |
And started; for within his eye | |
He read how much his wrath had done; | |
He saw rebellion there begun: | |
‘Come hither, boy – what, no reply? | |
120 | I mark thee – and I know thee too; |
But there be deeds thou dar’st not do: | |
But if thy beard had manlier length, | |
And if thy hand had skill and strength, | |
I’d joy to see thee break a lance, | |
125 | Albeit against my own perchance.’ |
As sneeringly these accents fell, | |
On Selim’s eye he fiercely gazed: | |
That eye return’d him glance for glance, | |
And proudly to his sire’s was raised, | |
130 | Till Giaffir’s quail’d and shrunk askance – |
And why – he felt, but durst not tell. | |
‘Much I misdoubt this wayward boy | |
Will one day work me more annoy: | |
I never loved him from his birth, | |
135 | And – but his arm is little worth, |
And scarcely in the chase could cope | |
With timid fawn or antelope, | |
Far less would venture into strife | |
Where man contends for fame and life – | |
140 | I would not trust that look or tone: |
No – nor the blood so near my own. | |
That blood – he hath not heard – no more – | |
I’ll watch him closer than before. | |
He is an Arab | |
145 | Or Christian crouching in the fight – |
But hark! – I hear Zuleika’s voice; | |
Like Houris’ hymn it meets mine ear: | |
She is the offspring of my choice; | |
Oh! more than ev’n her mother dear, | |
150 | With all to hope, and nought to fear – |
My Peri! ever welcome here! | |
Sweet as the desert fountain’s wave | |
To lips just cool’d in time to save – | |
Such to my longing sight art thou; | |
155 | Nor can they waft to Mecca’s shrine |
More thanks for life, than I for thine, | |
Who blest thy birth, and bless thee now.’ | |
VI | |
Fair, as the first that fell of womankind, | |
When on that dread yet lovely serpent smiling, | |
160 | Whose image then was stamp’d upon her mind – |