IMITATIONS.

She could not rest in the garden bower

But gazed through the grate of his steepest tower;

Why comes he not-and his steeds are fleet,

Nor shrink they from the summer heat?

Why sends not the bridegroom his promised gift?
Is his heart more cold, or his barb less swift?'

"Oh! false reproach! yon Tartar now
Has gain'd our nearest mountain's brow;;
And warily the steep descends,

And now within the valley bends;

And he bears the gift at his saddle-bow

How could I deem his courser slow!
Right well my largess shall repay

His welcome speed, and weary way.''

185

This is a beautiful painting, but it is not original: for, as Parson Evans says, the "author has prayed his pible well;" so far, at least, as to select from the sacred records a passage well adapted to poetry.

"The mother of Sisera looked out at a window, and cried through the lattice, Why is his chariot so long in coming? why tarry the wheels of his chariots? Her wise ladies answered her; yea, she returned answer to herself, Have they not sped?

have they not divided the prey? to every man a damsel or two? to Sisera, a prey of divers colours, a prey of divers colours of needlework, of divers colours of needlework on both sides, meet for the necks of them that take the spoil?" Judges, ch. v, 28-30.

This paraphrase is too plain to require any further observation; and yet the author would have acted wisely, if he had caught the spirit rather than the precise words of the inspired historian. Lord Byron has also been accused of having taken the picture of the monastic but impenitent Giaour from the character of Schedoni, in Mrs. Radcliffe's romance of "The Italian ;" and it must be admitted that the resemblance is so strong as to preclude all idea of a casual coincidence. On the dying confession of the hero of this poem, the less that is said the better. It is of a piece with all the scenes where the noble poet has had an opportunity of showing a proper respect for religion. In a note upon the interlocution of the Friar and the Giaour, the author speaks out thus broadly and offensively: "The Monk's sermon is omitted. It seems to have had so little effect upon the patient, that it could have no hope from the reader. It may

BRIDE OF ABYDOS.

187

be sufficient to say, that it was of a customary length, (as may be perceived from the interruptions and uneasiness of the penitent,) and was delivered in the nasal tone of all orthodox preachers."

Within a very short space, the "Giaour" was followed by the publication of another Turkish tale, entitled "The Bride of Abydos." The poem differs essentially from the former productions of the noble author. It is not, like them, rambling, episodical, and metaphysical; but consists of a story regularly constructed, and carried straight forward to its proper catastrophe, with almost a rigid regard to the dramatic unities of time and place.

Giaffir, the Pacha of a province on the Asiatic side of the Dardanelles, has two children, as on and daughter, of whom the latter only is a favourite. The tale opens with a representation of the old chief holding a Divan, and directing Haroun, the keeper of the Haram, to bring his daughter Zuleika into the council-chamber from her apartment. At this moment Selim, the son of Giaffir, knowing that his sister was walking in the cypress-grove, informs his father of it,

188

BRIDE OF ABYDOS.

and acknowledges that it was at his solicitation she had left the women's tower to enjoy with him the beauty of nature. This information, instead of pleasing the father, provokes him to vent the bitterest reproaches upon his son, for indulging in effeminate pursuits:

"Son of a slave !-the Pacha said

From unbelieving mother bred;

Vain were a father's hope to see

Aught that becomes a man in thee.

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 bubbling waters flow,
And watch unfolding roses blow!
Would that yon orb, whose matin glow
Thy listless eyes so much admire,
Would lend thee something of his fire!
Thou, who would see this battlement
By Christian cannon piece-meal rent-
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

Assume the distaff-not the brand."

This torrent of wrath, though it calls forth no reply in words, acts in such a manner upon the youth, that his father cannot help perceiving in the resentment of his eye, the workings of a rebellious spirit.

The suspicion thus raised, produces a fresh storm of angry invective, which is only put a stop to by the entrance of Zuleika, who hears, with grief, her father's intention of marrying her immediately to Carasman Oglou, the Pacha of Magnesia. From the Divan, old Giaffir proceeds to the review of his troops, while his daughter retires to her room, there to mourn her hapless destiny. An interview follows between her and Selim, of the most tender description, in which Zuleika shows so much more of the lover, than the sister, that her feelings of affection are expressed even with a degree of warmth, which would hardly become any female to the legitimate object of her choice. Mutual vows of unchangeable attachment take place; and the parties separate with the pledge to meet again at twilight, in the gardens of the Haram. The second Canto opens with a description of evening, and a parallel between the story of Selim and Zuleika, and that of Hero and Leander, the idea