"I carve my fate with my right arm,
    My life I dedicate to thee,
    I'll guard thee 'gainst the world from harm,
    And hold thee like a warrior free,
    Though Eblis' self should seek to wrest
    Thee from this true and loving breast. The sun is high; cease to repine. Farewell. The charm ere eve is thine." CANTO THE FOURTH. He on the pommel lays his hand,
    And lightly leaps into his seat;
    His steed impatiently the sand
    Is pawing with his eager feet. Now forward, and away! away! Fast onward speeds that charger gay;
    Fleet as the wind is Selim's flight
    To reach the goal ere fall of night. His charger's mettle's at the test,
    For until the setting sun
    Gilds yonder slope he must not rest;
    His and his master's will are one. The journey will brook no delay
    To stop for water on the way,
    So onward fly at fullest speed
    The rider and his barb Djerid. Still onward flies the goaded steed;
    Full half the day is sped and gone. In foam and sweat the bold Djerid
    Still towards the mountain's base rides on. Now with a crash the mountain's side
    Is rent in twain. A cavern wide
    Displays to view a jewelled hall;
    'Tis guarded by a Genii tall. Arrived now at the mountain's base,
    One hour ere the set of sun,
    The cavern yawns before his face,
    And soon the charger's course is run. A voice of thunder from the cave,
    That shakes the mountain, utters, "Slave,
    Forbear this sacred soil to tread,
    Thy death be else on thine own head." But Selim draws from out his vest
    A bough, plucked from some distant shore--
    A magic bough, compelling rest
    On those whom he should wave it o'er. He waves it, and the Genii sleeps;
    No guardian now the threshold keeps. He enters; views the jewel bright
    Suspended from the cavern's height,

    One wrench, 'tis his, that jewel bright;
    That talisman, that oft of yore
    Sages have searched for day and night,
    And burned their midnight oil for. Caressing now his brave Djerid,
    Still mounted, yet spurs on his steed. Now, as the sun sinks 'neath the main,
    The cavern closes once again. But now the clouds eclipse the sky,
    The air grows sultry, and the wind
    Is lulled, yet on Djerid doth fly;
    The mountain is left far behind. "Zuleika! Oh, my love, my bride. Who now shall tear thee from my side? If not to-night, to-morrow's morn
    Shall see this gem thy brow adorn." The lowering sky grew black as night,
    And vivid flashes rent the air,
    No human dwelling lay in sight--
    For miles and miles the plain seemed bare. An awful stillness reigned around,
    A horse's hoofs made all the sound,
    And even Selim 'gan to fear
    Some unknown danger hovering near. And still more sultry grew the air,
    And peal on peal of thunder rolled,
    No wild beast ventured from his lair;
    Yet onward sped that courser bold--
    O'er crags, through marshes, bush or briar,
    He trampling tore with feet of fire,
    When sudden, without shriek or yell,
    The horse was struck, the rider fell. CANTO THE FIFTH. A lightning flash hath cleft a rock,
    And formed a chasm in the stone. Within the cleft, with mighty shock,
    Selim from off his steed is thrown. His limbs are jambed between its walls;
    In vain for aid he loudly calls. No earthly power now can save
    The victim from his living grave. In vain he puts forth all his strength
    To free him from the horrid cleft;
    Those limbs so free are bound at length,
    For of all power he's bereft. Eternal life is in his hand
    To live on thus dread Fate's command,
    His doom is sealed, he cannot die,
    But lingers through eternity. Zuleika waits the coming morn
    With heaving breast and watchful eye. She scans the plain at early dawn
    But nought of her lover can descry. No tidings through the livelong day
    No footsteps tread that haunted way;
    Day after day, yet no return;
    His fate she now herself will learn. Then mounting at the break of day
    Her milk-white palfrey, leaves her home
    Behind her, and away! away! Upon her lover's tracks to roam. The noontide sun's fierce glowing ray
    Checks not her palfrey's onward way;
    She goads him on, nor slacks his speed
    Till pants for thirst her jaded steed. No water near his thirst to slake
    Beneath that glowing sultry sky. Her maiden fears now 'gin to wake,
    as were some threatening danger nigh. Her palfrey rears and ere a groan
    Escapes her, a stout arm is thrown
    Around her. As she calls aloud
    The Genii stands half-fiend, half-cloud. Then whisking her high up in air,
    The fiend in voice of thunder cried,
    "Behold thy lover in his lair;
    Thou'st torn for ever from his side. Nought can avert his destiny,
    For ever through eternity
    Within yon cleft he must abide. I claim thee now to be my bride." "Oh, Allah!" cried she, "hear my prayer:
    Help me this Genii to defy. If Selim's bride I may be ne'er,
    Take back my soul and let me die!" Her prayer is heard; her gentle soul
    Now wanders towards a higher goal,
    And in those realms of endless light
    The angels greet a sister sprite. Then Selim, gazing high in air,
    Beholds his loved one, hears her pray. He cries aloud in wild despair,
    The Genii clasps a thing of clay;
    Relaxing then his giant force,
    To Earth he hurls her lily corse. Now lie for ever side by side
    Th' undying chief and his dead bride. Zuleika's palfrey wanders home,
    Alas! without its gentle freight. El Amin hath set out to roam
    For tidings of his daughter's fate. Ne'er more to see her was his lot;
    The Genii guards that haunted spot,
    And close where his Zuleika lay,
    The chieftain lingers to this day. *       *       *       *       *

Scarce had the last word of the song died in the echo, than unbounded
applause once more shook the old panelled walls of the "Headless Lady." After which Mr. Oldstone, rising and seizing the young poet by the hand,
poured forth so warm an eulogium on his poetical talent as to make that
young gentleman blush up to the roots of his hair. The laurel crown was even hinted at again. This, however, Mr. Parnassus
modestly but firmly refused, saying that he could not sit crowned in the
midst of such a talented assembly merely because his weak endeavours to
entertain the company were given out in rhyme instead of in prose;
besides which, he added, that he had merely paid the forfeit agreed upon
for losing at chess, and that he was entitled to no thanks or marks of
honour for merely discharging his debt. The laurel tree outside was therefore suffered to continue its growth
until some future occasion, and after various comments on our friend
Parnassus' poem, and much pleasant conversation, the company broke up
for the night, and each lighting his candle, retired to his own
chamber. [Illustration]


CHAPTER VI. A TALE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.--THE BARBER'S STORY.