 | Safie |  |
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INTRODUCTORY STANZAS TO Safie, AN EASTERN TALE.
I
Land of the East! long loved, and lately sung,By one whose touch could animate the lyre;
Above whose tones the Muses list'ning hung,
Rapt by their sweetness,—startled at their fire:
Thy woes could move, thy graces could inspire
The heart to mourn, the genius to express:
Alas! I fear my humble verse will tire;
But though I fail, I do not feel the less,
But love thy sunny clime, and mourn o'er thy distress.
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II
Yes! thy distress; for sad distress it isTo see the freeman tamed into the slave,—
To have known thyself the throne of manly bliss,
Pride of the world, and birth-place of the brave;
And now a blooming, but disgraceful grave,
Where Freedom lies, regretted but by few:
Is then that spirit gone thy fathers gave?
Will none now struggle for what's still in view?
Is there no breast that beats to former feelings true?
III
'Tis not too late;—too late it cannot beTo strive again for independent power;
Glory awaits the valiant and the free,
Whose swords are waving, and whose spirits tower:
The cause, if gain'd, will consecrate the hour,—
If lost, its fame will pass to after-time;
And maids and lovers, in the hall and bower,
Minstrels, whose task it is to weave the rhyme,
Will sing of those who toil'd to save a sinking clime.
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IV
Lovely, though lost! and elegant, though faded!Well o'er thy sorrows may the tears fast flow;
Hearts not subdued, and minds not yet degraded,
Must feel the change, and long lament thy woe:
Worthy, alas! a better fate to know,
The vines still flourish on the mountains green,
The orange blossoms, and the flowers still blow;
And where destroying man hath never been,
Decay's slow crumbling touch doth yet remain unseen.
V
And thou canst boast a line of beauty too,In the fine features of thy lovely fair;
A poet's fancy might in vain pursue
The task of painting loveliness so rare:—
Eyes dark, yet soft,—and teeth that might compare
With polish'd rows of whitest ivory;—
A glossy flow of Hyacinthine
THE metaphor taken from the Hyacinth is very common with the Arabians, and was so with the Greeks: a poem can hardly lay claim to the title of “Oriental” without it. Sir William Jones has made use of it in an Eclogue composed of Eastern images:—
“The fragrant Hyacinths of Azza's hair,
“That wanton with the laughing summer air.”
“That wanton with the laughing summer air.”
A cheek whose glowing colour well might vie
With the first roseate blush that tints the morning sky.
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VI
Thine is the clime where stranger never stay'dFree from the conquest of the plaintive eye;
The fine-turn'd form, with elegance array'd;
The easy grace; the artful half-breath'd sigh;
The eye that seems to gaze upon the sky,—
Ah! sweetly raised to shew its orb of white;
The taper hand, that cunningly would try
To toss the raven ringlets from the sight;—
The voice so sweet and soft; the step so free and light.
VII
Then how they love! unlike those cold of climeWho never feel the flames they falsely speak;
But whine and flatter the accustom'd time,
And then their promises unkindly break;
In tempers chilly, and in spirits weak:—
With thee love speaks by glance of lady's eye,—
The silent furtive kiss upon the cheek,—
The feigned forgetfulness,—the whisper sly,—
The pressure of the hand,—the sympathetic sigh!
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VIII
Thine is the land for love! the land for soul!For hearts of ardour, and for beauty bright;
Love lives and roves with thee without controul,
Smiles in the air and in the laughing light:
Oh! Woman's frown is like a moonless night,
When every cheering ray from earth is driven;—
Her glance is promise to the gazer's sight,
Her lively smile bestow'd is rapture given,—
And oh! her feeling heart is ever Eastern heaven
A Female heart does not strictly form the “divine place of rest” promised by Mahomet; but mortals in general, and Arabians in particular, entertain very sublime notions of it. The following are held out to Mussulmen as the rewards of heaven:—
“The righteous, after having passed the bridge, will be refreshed by drinking at the pond of their prophet, and then admitted into Paradise, situated in the seventh heaven, and next to the throne of God; where they will be fed on the most delicious fruits, be clothed in the most splendid silken garments, refreshed with rivers of water, wine, milk, and honey, and entertained with the most delightful music, and the ravishing black-eyed girls of Paradise, the enjoyment of whose company will be a principal felicity of the faithful.
IX
Ye! who are chosen in the light blue worldTo welcome spirits to eternal day,
Oh! be one sign, one heavenly sign unfurl'd,
To cheer my task, and light me on my way:
My verse records a deed of warlike fray;
Love prompts my song, and can ye then deny
A glance to animate the tender lay;—
Theme of the tongue, and pleasure of the eye,
The dearest, first best bliss the soul partakes on high.
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X
Smile then, ye Houries! on my bold attempt,With Eastern charms to decorate my song;—
Oh! be my verse from dullness, aye exempt,
In thought expressive, and in language strong:
May all that doth to Music's voice belong,
Breathe through my lines melodious to the ear;
May Fancy fire those lines that speak of wrong,
And give them power to draw the generous tear,
To raise within the heart a gentle, pleasing fear.
| Safie | |