The Bakchesarian Fountain and Other Poems | Page 2

whilst in sleep unguarded lying,
Their
slightest movement, breathing, sighing,
He catches with devouring
ear.
O! curst that moment inauspicious
Should some loved name in
dreams be sighed,
Or youth her unpermitted wishes
To friendship
venture to confide.

What pang is Giray's bosom tearing?
Extinguished is his loved
chubouk,[1]
Whilst or to move or breathe scarce daring,
The
eunuch watches every look;
Quick as the chief, approaching near him,

Beckons, the door is open thrown,
And Giray wanders through his
harem
Where joy to him no more is known.
Near to a fountain's
lucid waters
Captivity's unhappy daughters
The Khan await, in fair
array,
Around on silken carpets crowded,
Viewing, beneath a
heaven unclouded,
With childish joy the fishes play
And o'er the
marble cleave their way,
Whose golden scales are brightly glancing,

And on the mimic billows dancing.
Now female slaves in rich
attire
Serve sherbet to the beauteous fair,
Whilst plaintive strains
from viewless choir
Float sudden on the ambient air.
TARTAR SONG.
I.
Heaven visits man with days of sadness,
Embitters oft his nights with
tears;
Blest is the Fakir who with gladness
Views Mecca in
declining years.
II.
Blest he who sees pale Death await him
On Danube's ever glorious
shore;
The girls of Paradise shall greet him,
And sorrows ne'er
afflict him more.
III.
But he more blest, O beauteous Zarem!
Who quits the world and all
its woes,
To clasp thy charms within the harem,
Thou lovelier than
the unplucked rose!
They sing, but-where, alas! is Zarem,
Love's star, the glory of the
harem?
Pallid and sad no praise she hears,
Deaf to all sounds of joy

her ears,
Downcast with grief, her youthful form
Yields like the
palm tree to the storm,
Fair Zarem's dreams of bliss are o'er,
Her
loved Giray loves her no more!
He leaves thee! yet whose charms divine
Can equal, fair Grusinian!
thine?
Shading thy brow, thy raven hair
Its lily fairness makes more
fair;
Thine eyes of love appear more bright
Than noonday's beam,
more dark than night;
Whose voice like thine can breathe of blisses,

Filling the heart with soft desire?
Like thine, ah! whose inflaming
kisses
Can kindle passion's wildest fire?
Who that has felt thy twining arms
Could quit them for another's
charms?
Yet cold, and passionless, and cruel,
Giray can thy vast
love despise,
Passing the lonesome night in sighs
Heaved for
another; fiercer fuel
Burns in his heart since the fair Pole
Is placed
within the chief's control.
The young Maria recent war
Had borne in conquest from afar;
Not
long her love-enkindling eyes
Had gazed upon these foreign skies;

Her aged father's boast and pride,
She bloomed in beauty by his side;

Each wish was granted ere expressed.
She to his heart the object
dearest,
His sole desire to see her blessed;
As when the skies from
clouds are clearest,
Still from her youthful heart to chase
Her
childish sorrows his endeavour,
Hoping in after life that never
Her
woman's duties might efface
Remembrance of her earlier hours,
But
oft that fancy would retrace
Life's blissful spring-time decked in
flowers.
Her form a thousand charms unfolded,
Her face by
beauty's self was moulded,
Her dark blue eyes were full of fire,--

All nature's stores on her were lavished;
The magic harp with soft
desire,
When touched by her, the senses ravished.
Warriors and
knights had sought in vain
Maria's virgin heart to move,
And many
a youth in secret pain
Pined for her in despairing love.
But love she
knew not, in her breast
Tranquil it had not yet intruded,
Her days in
mirth, her nights in rest,
In her paternal halls secluded,
Passed

heedless, peace her bosom's guest.
That time is past! The Tartar's force
Rushed like a torrent o'er her
nation,--
Rages less fierce the conflagration
Devouring harvests in
its course,--
Poland it swept with devastation,
Involving all in equal
fate,
The villages, once mirthful, vanished,
From their red ruins joy
was banished,
The gorgeous palace desolate!
Maria is the victor's
prize;--
Within the palace chapel laid,
Slumb'ring among
th'illustrious dead,
In recent tomb her father lies;
His ancestors
repose around,
Long freed from life and its alarms;
With coronets
and princely arms
Bedecked their monuments abound!
A base
successor now holds sway,--
Maria's natal halls his hand
Tyrannic
rules, and strikes dismay
And wo throughout the ravaged land.
Alas! the Princess sorrow's chalice
Is fated to the dregs to drain,

Immured in Bakchesaria's palace
She sighs for liberty in vain;
The
Khan observes the maiden's pain,
His heart is at her grief afflicted,

His bosom strange emotions fill,
And least of all Maria's will
Is by
the harem's laws restricted.
The hateful guard, of all the dread,

Learns silent to respect and fear her,
His eye ne'er violates her bed,

Nor day nor night he ventures near her;
To her he dares not speak
rebuke,
Nor on her cast suspecting look.
Her bath she sought by
none attended,
Except her chosen female slave,
The Khan to her
such freedom gave;
But rarely he himself offended
By visits, the
desponding fair,
Remotely lodged, none else intruded;
It seemed as
though some jewel rare,
Something unearthly were secluded,
And
careful kept untroubled there.
Within her chamber thus secure,
By virtue guarded, chaste and pure,

The lamp of faith, incessant burning,
The VIRGIN'S image blest
illumed,
The comfort of the spirit mourning
And trust of those to
sorrow doomed.
The holy symbol's face reflected
The rays of hope
in splendour bright,
And the rapt soul by faith directed
To regions
of eternal light.
Maria, near the VIRGIN kneeling,
In silence gave

her anguish way,
Unnoticed by the crowd unfeeling,
And