The Bakchesarian Fountain and Other Poems | Page 4

feeling
For me now cherishes Giray,

Scarce his disgust, alas! concealing,
He from my presence hastes

away.
Princess, I know the fault not thine
That Giray loves thee, oh!
then hear
A suppliant wretch, nor spurn her prayer!
Throughout the harem none but thou
Could rival beauties such as
mine
Nor make him violate his vow;
Yet, Princess! in thy bosom
cold
The heart to mine left thus forlorn,
The love I feel cannot be
told,
For passion, Princess, was I born.
Yield me Giray then; with
these tresses
Oft have his wandering fingers played,
My lips still
glow with his caresses,
Snatched as he sighed, and swore, and prayed,

Oaths broken now so often plighted!
Hearts mingled once now
disunited!
His treason I cannot survive;
Thou seest I weep, I bend
my knee,
Ah! if to pity thou'rt alive,
My former love restore to me.

Reply not! thee I do not blame,
Thy beauties have bewitched Giray,

Blinded his heart to love and fame,
Then yield him up to me, I pray,

Or by contempt, repulse, or grief,
Turn from thy love
th'ungenerous chief!
Swear by thy faith, for what though mine

Conform now to the Koran's laws,
Acknowledged here within the
harem,
Princess, my mother's faith was thine,
By that faith swear to
give to Zarem
Giray unaltered, as he was!
But listen! the sad prey
to scorn
If I must live, Princess, have care,
A dagger still doth
Zarem wear,--
I near the Caucasus was born!"
She spake, then sudden disappeared,
And left the Princess in dismay,

Who scarce knew what or why she feared;
Such words of passion
till that day
She ne'er had heard. Alas! was she
To be the ruthless
chieftain's prey?

Vain was all hope his grasp to flee.
Oh! God, that
in some dungeon's gloom
Remote, forgotten, she had lain,
Or that it
were her blessed doom
To 'scape dishonour, life, and pain!
How
would Maria with delight
This world of wretchedness resign;

Vanished of youth her visions bright,
Abandoned she to fates malign!

Sinless she to the world was given,
And so remains, thus pure and
fair,
Her soul is called again to heaven,
And angel joys await it
there!

Days passed away; Maria slept
Peaceful, no cares disturbed her,
now,--
From earth the orphan maid was swept.
But who knew when,
or where, or how?
If prey to grief or pain she fell,
If slain or
heaven-struck, who can tell?
She sleeps; her loss the chieftain grieves,

And his neglected harem leaves,
Flies from its tranquil precincts
far,
And with his Tartars takes the field,
Fierce rushes mid the din
of war,
And brave the foe that does not yield,
For mad despair hath
nerved his arm,
Though in his heart is grief concealed,
With
passion's hopeless transports warm.
His blade he swings aloft in air

And wildly brandishes, then low
It falls, whilst he with pallid stare

Gazes, and tears in torrents flow.
His harem by the chief deserted,
In foreign lands he warring roved,

Long nor in wish nor thought reverted
To scene once cherished and
beloved.
His women to the eunuch's rage
Abandoned, pined and
sank in age;
The fair Grusinian now no more
Yielded her soul to
passion's power,
Her fate was with Maria's blended,
On the same
night their sorrows ended;
Seized by mute guards the hapless fair

Into a deep abyss they threw,--
If vast her crime, through love's
despair,
Her punishment was dreadful too!
At length th'exhausted Khan returned,
Enough of waste his sword had
dealt,
The Russian cot no longer burned,
Nor Caucasus his fury felt.

In token of Maria's loss
A marble fountain he upreared
In spot
recluse;--the Christian's cross
Upon the monument appeared,

(Surmounting it a crescent bright,
Emblem of ignorance and night!)

Th'inscription mid the silent waste

Not yet has time's rude hand
effaced,
Still do the gurgling waters pour
Their streams dispensing
sadness round,
As mothers weep for sons no more,
In never-ending
sorrows drowned.
In morn fair maids, (and twilight late,)
Roam
where this monument appears,
And pitying poor Maria's fate
Entitle
it the FOUNT OF TEARS!

My native land abandoned long,
I sought this realm of love and song.

Through Bakchesaria's palace wandered,
Upon its vanished
greatness pondered;
All silent now those spacious halls,
And courts
deserted, once so gay
With feasters thronged within their walls,

Carousing after battle fray.
Even now each desolated room
And
ruined garden luxury breathes,
The fountains play, the roses bloom,

The vine unnoticed twines its wreaths,
Gold glistens, shrubs exhale
perfume.
The shattered casements still are there
Within which once,
in days gone by,
Their beads of amber chose the fair,
And heaved
the unregarded sigh;
The cemetery there I found,
Of conquering
khans the last abode,
Columns with marble turbans crowned
Their
resting-place the traveller showed,
And seemed to speak fate's stern
decree,
"As they are now such all shall be!"
Where now those
chiefs? the harem where?
Alas! how sad scene once so fair!
Now
breathless silence chains the air!
But not of this my mind was full,

The roses' breath, the fountains flowing,
The sun's last beam its
radiance throwing
Around, all served my heart to lull
Into
forgetfulness, when lo!
A maiden's shade, fairer than snow,
Across
the court swift winged its flight;--
Whose shade, oh friends! then
struck my sight?
Whose beauteous image hovering near
Filled me
with wonder and with fear?
Maria's form beheld I then?
Or was it
the unhappy Zarem,
Who jealous thither came again
To roam
through the deserted harem?
That tender look I cannot flee,

Those
charms still earthly still I see!

He who the muse and peace adores,
Forgetting