Note 14. Page 135, line 61.

An emir by his garb of green.

Green is the privileged colour of the Prophet's numerous pretended descendants; with them, as here, faith (the family inheritance) is supposed to supersede the necessity of good works: they are the worst of a very indifferent brood.

Note 15. Page 135, line 62.

Ho! who art thou?-this low salam, etc.

Salam aleikoum! aleikoum salam! peace be with you; be with you peace-the salutation reserved for the faithful:-to a Christian, « Urlarula,» a good journey; or saban hiresem, saban serula; good morn, good even; and sometimes, « may your end be happy;» are

the usual salutes.

The celebrated fabulous ruby of Sultan Giamschid, the embellisher of Istakhar; from its splendour, named Schebgerag, the torch of night;» also « the cup of the sun,» etc.-In the first editions «Giamschid » was written as a word of three syllables, so D'Herbelot has it; but I am told Richardson reduces it to a dissyllable, and writes « Jamshid.» I have left in the text the orthography of the one with the pronunciation of the other.

Note 21. Page 136, line 64. Though on Al-Sirat's arch I stood. Al-Sirat, the bridge, of breadth less than the thread of a famished spider, over which the Mussulmans must skate into paradise, to which it is the only entrance; but this is not the worst, the river beneath being hell itself, into which, as may be expected, the unskilful and tender of foot contrive to tumble with a « facilis descensus Averni,» not very pleasing in prospect to the next passenger. There is a shorter cut downwards for the Jews and Christians.

Note 22. Page 136, line 69.

And keep that portion of his creed.

A vulgar error: the Koran allots at least a third of

Note 27. Page 137, line 51.

Then curl'd his very beard with ire.

A phenomenon not uncommon with an angry Mussulman. In 1809, the Capitan Pacha's whiskers at a diplomatic audience were not less lively with indignation than a tiger-cat's, to the horror of all the dragomans; the portentous mustachios twisted, they stood erect of their own accord, and were expected every moment to change their colour, but at last condescended to subside, which probably saved more heads than they contained hairs. Note 28. Page 137, line 61. Nor raised the craven cry, Amaun!

rank.

Note 31. Page 138, line 51. His calpac rent-his caftan red. The « Calpac is the solid cap or centre part of the head-dress; the shawl is wound round it, and forms the turban.

Note 32. Page 138, line 57.

A turban carved in coarsest stone.

The turban, pillar, and inscriptive verse, decorate the tombs of the Osmanlies, whether in the cemetery or the wilderness. In the mountains you frequently pass similar mementos; and, on inquiry, you are informed that they record some victim of rebellion, plunder, or revenge.

Note 33. Page 138, line 68.

At solemn sound of Alla Hu!

« Alla Hu!» the concluding words of the Muezzin's

son's supposed infidelity; he asked with whom, and she had the barbarity to give in a list of the twelve handsomest women in Yanina. They were seized, fastened up in sacks, and drowned in the lake the same night! One of the guards who was present informed me, that not one of the victims uttered a cry, or showed a symptom of terror at so sudden a «wrench from all we know, from all we love.» The fate of Phrosine, the fairest of this sacrifice, is the subject of many a Romaic and Arnaout ditty. The story in the text is one told of a young Venetian many years ago, and now nearly forgotten. I heard it by accident recited by one of the coffee-house story-tellers who abound in the Levant, and sing or recite their narratives. The additions and interpolations by the translator will be easily distinguished from the rest by the want of Eastern imagery;

and I regret that my memory has retained so few fragments of the original.

"

For the contents of some of the notes I am indebted partly to D'Herbelot, and partly to that most eastern, and, as Mr Weber justly entitles it, «< sublime tale,» the Caliph Vathek.» I do not know from what source the author of that singular volume may have drawn his materials; some of his incidents are to be found in the Bibliothèque Orientale;» but for correctness of costume, beauty of description, and power of imagination, it far surpasses all European imitations; and bears such marks of originality, that those who have visited the East will find some difficulty in believing it to be more than a translation. As an Eastern tale, even Rasselas must bow before it; his «Happy Valley» will not bear a comparison with the «< Hall of Eblis.»

BURNS.

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?
Know ye the land of the cedar and vine,
Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine,
Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppress'd with perfume,
Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gul in her bloom;
Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit,
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,
And all, save the spirit of man, is divine?

'Tis the clime of the East; 't is the land of the sunCan 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 teli.

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 sat in his Divan:

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,

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,

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')

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.»
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 downeast look'd, and gently spake,
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,
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 sleepI could not; and to view alone

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;

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,

And made earth, main, and heaven our own!
There linger'd we, beguiled too long
With Mejnoun's tale, or Sadi's song:3
Till I, who heard the deep tambour 4
Beat thy Divan's approaching hour,
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

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.

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.
Would that yon orb, whose matin glow
Thy listless eyes so much admire,
Would lend thee something of his fire!
Thou, who wouldst see this battlement
By Christian cannon piecemeal 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.
But, Haroun !-to my daughter speed:
And hark-of thine own head take heed-
If thus Zuleika oft takes wing-
Thou seest yon bow-it hath a string!>>

V..

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!
Those gibes had cost another dear.
Son of a slave!-and who my sire !»>
Thus held his thoughts their dark career,
And glances even of more than ire
Flash forth, then faintly disappear,
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?
I mark thee, and I know thee too;
But there be deeds thou darest 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,
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,

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,
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-

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 5 to my sight,

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;

O! more than even her mother dear,
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;
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,
Whose image then was stamp'd upon her mind-
But once beguil'd—and ever more beguiling;
Dazzling, as that, oh! too transcendant vision

To sorrow's phantom-peopled slumber given,
When heart meets heart again in dreams Elysian,
And paints the lost on earth revived in heaven;
Soft, as the memory of buried love;
Pure, as the prayer which childhood wafts above:

Was she-the daughter of that rude old chief, Who met the maid with tears-but not of grief.

Who hath not proved how feebly words essay
To fix one spark of beauty's heavenly ray?
Who doth not feel, until his failing sight
Faints into dimness with its own delight,
His changing cheek, his sinking heart confess
The might-the majesty of loveliness?

Such was Zuleika-such around her shone
The nameless charms unmark'd by her alone;
The light of love, the purity of grace,
The mind, the music breathing from her face,6
The heart whose softness harmonized the whole-
And, oh! that eye was in itself a soul!

So sweet the blush of bashfulness,
Even pity scarce can wish it less!
Whate'er it was, the sire forgot;

Or, if remember'd, mark'd it not:
Thrice clapp'd his hands, and call'd his steed,9
Resign'd his gem-adorn'd Chibouque,10
And mounting featly for the mead,
With Maugrabee" and Mamaluke,
His way amid his Delis took,

To witness many an active deed
With sabre keen, or blunt jereed.
The Kislar only and his Moors
Watch well the Haram's massy doors.
IX.

His head was leant upon his hand,

His eye look'd o'er the dark blue water
That swiftly glides and gently swells
Between the winding Dardanelles ;
But yet he saw nor sea nor strand,
Nor even his Pacha's turban'd band

Mix in the game of mimic slaughter,
Careering cleave the folded felt 13
With sabre stroke right sharply dealt;
Nor mark'd the javelin-darting crowd,
Nor heard their Ollahs 14 wild and loud-

He thought but of old Giaffir's daughter!

X.

No word from Selim's bosom broke;
One sigh Zuleika's thought bespoke:
Still gazed he through the lattice grate,
Pale, mute, and mournfully sedate.
To him Zuleika's eye was turn'd,
But little from his aspect learn'd:
Equal her grief, yet not the same;
Her heart confess'd a gentler flame:
But yet that heart alarm'd or weak,
She knew not why, forbade to speak.
Yet speak she must-but when essay?
« How strange he thus should turn away!
Not thus we e'er before have met;
Not thus shall be our parting yet.»
Thrice paced she slowly through the room,
And watch'd his eye-it still was fix'd:
She snatch'd the urn wherein was mix'd
The Persian Atar-gul's15 perfume,
And sprinkled all its odours o'er

The pictured roof 16 and marbled floor :'

The drops, that through his glittering vest The playful girl's appeal address'd, Unheeded o'er his bosom flew,

As if that breast were marble too.

<< What, sullen yet? it must not beOh! gentle Selim, this from thee! »> She saw in curious order set

The fairest flowers of Eastern land

« He loved them once; may touch them yet, If offered by Zuleika's hand.»

The childish thought was hardly breathed
Before the rose was pluck'd and wreathed;
The next fond moment saw her seat
Her fairy form at Selim's feet:

« This rose, to calm my brother's cares,
A message from the Bulbul 17 bears;
It says to-night he will prolong
For Selim's ear his sweetest song;