Depends the nuptial union-but on Heaven,

By which all power, and right, and truth are given. However just our reasoning may appear,

We 're still beset by endless error here;

And proffer'd friendship may perchance become

The harbinger of strife and of the tomb;
Madness is neither sin nor crime, we know,
But who'd be link'd to madness or a foe?
Thy son is mad-his senses first restore;
In constant prayer the aid of Heaven implore;
But while portentous gloom pervades his brain,
Disturb me not with this vain suit again.
The jewel, sense, no purchaser can buy,

Nor treachery the place of sense supply.
Thou hast my reasons-and this parley o'er,

Keep them in mind, and trouble me no more!"

Abash'd, his very heartstrings torn,

Thus to be met with scoff and scorn,

Syd Omri to his followers turn'd,

His cheek with kindled anger burn'd;

But, scorning more to do or say,
Indignant homeward urged his way.
And now for a disorder'd mind,
What med'cine can affection find?
What magic power, what human skill,
To rectify the erring will?

-—The necromancer's art they tried-
Charms, philtres used, to win a bride,

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And make a father's heart relent,

As if by Heaven in pity sent.—

Vain efforts all. They now address

Kind words, his mind to soothe and bless,
And urge in his unwilling ear

(Treason and death for him to hear)

"Another love, of nobler race,

Unmatch'd in form, unmatch'd in grace;

All blandishments and fairy wiles ;
Her every glance the heart beguiles:
An idol of transcendent worth,
With charms eclipsing royal birth;
Whose balmy lips like rubies glow;
Sugar and milk their sweetness show;
And her words like softest music flow:
Adorn'd in all the pride of spring,
Her robes around rich odours fling;
Sparkling with gold and gems, she seems
The bright perfection of a lover's dreams;
Then why, with such a prize at home,
For charms inferior amid strangers roam?
Bid all unduteous thoughts depart,

And wisely banish Lailí from thy heart."
When Majnún saw his hopes decay,

Their fairest blossoms fade away;

And friends and sire, who might have been

Kind intercessors, rush between

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Him and the only wish that shed

One ray of comfort round his head,
(His fondly cherish'd Arab maid),
He beat his hands, his garments tore,
He cast his fetters on the floor

In broken fragments, and in wrath
Sought the dark wilderness's path;
And there he wept and sobb'd aloud,
Unwitness'd by the gazing crowd;
His eyes all tears, his soul all flame,
Repeating still his Lailí's name.
And Lailí! Lailí! echoed round,

Still dwelling on that rapturous sound.
-In pilgrim-garb he reckless stray'd,
No covering on his feet or head;
And still, as memory touch'd his brain,

He murmur'd some love-wilder'd strain:

But still her name was ever on his tongue,

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And Lailí! Lailí! still through grove and forest rung.

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"My homeward course is dark to me;

But, Lailí, were I at thy side,

How bless'd would thy poor lover be!

B

My kindred think of me with shame;

My friends they shudder at my name.

That cup of wine I held, alas!

Dropp'd from my hand, is dash'd in pieces;

Never gay scenes of joy forsaking,

Whose minds, at peace, no cares oppress,

What know ye of a heart that's breaking!"

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Worn out at length, he sank upon the ground,
And there in tears the mournful youth is found
By those who traced his wanderings: gently they
Now to Syd Omri's home the faded form convey: 450
His sire and kinsmen round him moan,

And, weeping, make his griefs their own ;

And, garrulous, recall to memory's eye
The progress of his life from infancy-

The flattering promise of his boyish days—

And find the wreck of hope on which they gaze.

They deem'd that Mecca's sacred fane

His reason would restore again;

That blessed boon to mortals given,

The arc of earth, the arc of heaven;

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The holy Kába where the Prophet pray'd,

Where Zam-Zam's waters yield their saving aid.

'Tis now the season of the pilgrimage,

And now assemble merchant, chieftain, sage,

With vows and offerings, on that spot divine :

Thousands and thousands throng the splendid shrine. And now, on that high purpose bent, await

Syd Omri's camels, ready at his gate;

Around their necks the tinkling bells are hung,
Rich tassell'd housings on their backs are flung;
And Majnún, faint, and reckless what may be,
Is on a litter placed-sad sight to see!--
And tenderly caress'd, whilst born along
By the rough moving camel, fleet and strong.
The desert soon is pass'd, and Mecca's bright
And glittering minarets rise upon the sight;
Where golden gifts, and sacrifice, and prayer,
Secure the absolution sought for there.

The father, entering that all-powerful shrine,

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Thus prays-"Have mercy, Heaven, on me and mine! 480

O from my son this frenzied mood remove,

And save him, save him from the bane of love!"

Majnún at this, poor wayward child,
Look'd in his father's face and smiled;
And frankly said his life should prove
The truth and holiness of love.

"My heart is bound by beauty's spell,
My love is indestructible.

Am I to separate from my own,

From her for whom I breathe alone?

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