Excerpt
THE BAKCHESARIAN FOUNTAIN.A TALE OF THE TAURIDE.
Mute sat Giray, with downcast eye, As though some spell in sorrow bound him,His slavish courtiers thronging nigh, In sad expectance stood around him.The lips of all had silence sealed, Whilst, bent on him, each look observant, Saw grief's deep trace and passion ferventUpon his gloomy brow revealed. But the proud Khan his dark eye raising, And on the courtiers fiercely gazing,Gave signal to them to begone!The chief, unwitnessed and alone, Now yields him to his bosom's smart,Deeper upon his brow severe Is traced the anguish of his heart;As full fraught clouds on mirrors clear Reflected terrible appear!
What fills that haughty soul with pain? What thoughts such madd'ning tumults cause?With Russia plots he war again? Would he to Poland dictate laws?Say, is the sword of vengeance glancing? Does bold revolt claim nature's right? Do realms oppressed alarm excite?Or sabres of fierce foes advancing?Ah no! no more his proud steed prancing Beneath him guides the Khan to war,-- Such thoughts his mind has banished far.
Has treason scaled the harem's wall,Whose height might treason's self appal,And slavery's daughter fled his power,To yield her to the daring Giaour?
No! pining in his harem sadly,No wife of his would act so madly; To wish or think they scarcely dare;By wretches, cold and heartless, guarded,Hope from each breast so long discarded; Treason could never enter there.Their beauties unto none revealed, They bloom within the harem's towers, As in a hot-house bloom the flowersWhich erst perfumed Arabia's field.To them the days in sameness dreary, And months and years pass slow away,In solitude, of life grown weary, Well pleased they see their charms decay.Each day, alas! the past resembling, Time loiters through their halls and bowers;In idleness, and fear, and trembling, The captives pass their joyless hours.The youngest seek, indeed, reprieveTheir hearts in striving to deceiveInto oblivion of distress,By vain amusements, gorgeous dress, Or by the noise of living streams,In soft translucency meand'ring, To lose their thoughts in fancy's dreams,Through shady groves together wand'ring. But the vile eunuch too is there,In his base duty ever zealous, Escape is hopeless to the fairFrom ear so keen and eye so jealous. He ruled the harem, order reignedEternal there; the trusted treasure He watched with loyalty unfeigned,His only law his chieftain's pleasure, Which as the Koran he maintained.His soul love's gentle flame derides,And like a statue he abides Hatred, contempt, reproaches, jests,Nor prayers relax his temper rigid, Nor timid sighs from tender breasts,To all alike the wretch is frigid. He knows how woman's sighs can melt, Freeman and bondman he had feltHer art in days when he was younger; Her silent tear, her suppliant look, Which once his heart confiding shook,Now move not,--he believes no longer...!