Gebir | Page 5

property. In 1808 Southey and Landor first met. Their friendship remained unbroken. When Spain rose to throw off the yoke of Napoleon, Landor's enthusiasm carried him to Corunna, where he paid for the equipment of a thousand volunteers, and joined the Spanish army of the North. After the Convention of Cintra he returned to England. Then he bought a large Welsh estate--Llanthony Priory--paid for it by selling other property, and began costly improvements. But he lived chiefly at Bath, where he married, in 1811, when his age was thirty-six, a girl of twenty. It was then that he began his tragedy of "Count Julian." The patriotic struggle in Spain commended at the same time to Scott, Southey, and Landor the story of Roderick, the last of the Gothic kings, against whom, to avenge wrong done to his daughter, Count Julian called the Moors in to invade his country. In 1810 Southey was working at his poem of "Roderick the Last of the Goths," in fellowship with his friend Landor, who was treating the same subject in his play. Scott's "Roderick" was being printed so nearly at the same time with Landor's play, that Landor wrote to Southey early in 1812 while the proof-sheets were coming to him: "I am surprised that Upham has not sent me Mr. Scott's poem yet. However, I am not sorry. I feel a sort of satisfaction that mine is going to the press first, though there is little danger that we should think on any subject alike, or stumble on any one character in the same track." De Quincey spoke of the hidden torture shown in Landor's play to be ever present in the mind of Count Julian, the betrayer of his country, as greater than the tortures inflicted in old Rome on generals who had committed treason. De Quincey's admiration of this play was more than once expressed. "Mr. Landor," he said, "who always rises with his subject, and dilates like Satan into Teneriffe or Atlas when he sees before him an antagonist worthy of his powers, is probably the one man in Europe that has adequately conceived the situation, the stern self-dependency, and the monumental misery of Count Julian. That sublimity of penitential grief, which cannot accept consolation from man, cannot bear external reproach, cannot condescend to notice insult, cannot so much as SEE the curiosity of bystanders; that awful carelessness of all but the troubled deeps within his own heart, and of God's spirit brooding upon their surface and searching their abysses; never was so majestically described."
H. M.
FIRST BOOK.
I sing the fates of Gebir. He had dwelt?Among those mountain-caverns which retain?His labours yet, vast halls and flowing wells,?Nor have forgotten their old master's name?Though severed from his people here, incensed?By meditating on primeval wrongs,?He blew his battle-horn, at which uprose?Whole nations; here, ten thousand of most might?He called aloud, and soon Charoba saw?His dark helm hover o'er the land of Nile,
What should the virgin do? should royal knees?Bend suppliant, or defenceless hands engage?Men of gigantic force, gigantic arms??For 'twas reported that nor sword sufficed,?Nor shield immense nor coat of massive mail,?But that upon their towering heads they bore?Each a huge stone, refulgent as the stars.?This told she Dalica, then cried aloud:?"If on your bosom laying down my head?I sobbed away the sorrows of a child,?If I have always, and Heaven knows I have,?Next to a mother's held a nurse's name,?Succour this one distress, recall those days,?Love me, though 'twere because you loved me then."
But whether confident in magic rites?Or touched with sexual pride to stand implored,?Dalica smiled, then spake: "Away those fears.?Though stronger than the strongest of his kind,?He falls--on me devolve that charge; he falls.?Rather than fly him, stoop thou to allure;?Nay, journey to his tents: a city stood?Upon that coast, they say, by Sidad built,?Whose father Gad built Gadir; on this ground?Perhaps he sees an ample room for war.?Persuade him to restore the walls himself?In honour of his ancestors, persuade -?But wherefore this advice? young, unespoused,?Charoba want persuasions! and a queen!"
"O Dalica!" the shuddering maid exclaimed,?"Could I encounter that fierce, frightful man??Could I speak? no, nor sigh!"
"And canst thou reign?"?Cried Dalica; "yield empire or comply."?Unfixed though seeming fixed, her eyes downcast,?The wonted buzz and bustle of the court?From far through sculptured galleries met her ear;?Then lifting up her head, the evening sun?Poured a fresh splendour on her burnished throne--?The fair Charoba, the young queen, complied.
But Gebir when he heard of her approach?Laid by his orbed shield, his vizor-helm,?His buckler and his corset he laid by,?And bade that none attend him; at his side?Two faithful dogs that urge the silent course,?Shaggy, deep-chested, crouched; the crocodile,?Crying, oft made them raise their flaccid ears?And push their heads within their master's hand.?There was a brightening paleness in his face,?Such as Diana rising o'er the