When hunger presses, from the weeping trees And if I sought on living thing to feed, Birds might be caught; but I detest the deed; Defies the world-the world is at his feet; 2050 For what can pomp, and wealth, and feasts avail? I live on grass:-but hear the Záhid's tale. In ancient times a king, they say, And marking, as alɔng he rode, A Záhid's desolate abode, 2060 Ask'd his attendants if they knew What the Recluse was wont to do; What was his food, and where he slept, And soon brought forth that holy man ;- 2070 No "I have no friends to love me-none; power, except to live alone." Then, where his fawns in quiet fed, Took up some blades of grass, and said— 2080 No doubt thou 'rt charm'd with food more rare!" -Soon as this speech the monarch heard, Noting, attentive, every word, And wondering such a seer to meet, Fell at the pious Záhid's feet, And kiss'd the greensward, as he knelt Where that contented hermit dwelt. 2090 XVI. O'er Majnún's spirit, long in darkness cast, And wishes e'en to visit home again As if the maddening fire had left his brain. F Selim at this brief glimpse of reason caught, His eye so alter'd, and his frame so weak; In that encounter sad of mortal scathe Thou grasp'dst the two-edged scimitar of death. 2110 Come, 'tis thy own sweet home, and doubly dear— I watch'd thy slumber, pillow'd thy sweet head; Refuse the joy thy presence can impart, And cast a shadow o'er her drooping heart?" "Mother, there is no hope-the time is past; With gloom eternal is my fate o'ercast; No fault of mine-no crime, to press me down- 2130 For there, to me, no peace can ever come. 'Mid mountain-glens, and herd with beasts of prey, He ceased, and kiss'd his mother's feet, and fled To the wild mountains. Dreadful was the stroke! Selim again the maniac's haunts explored, Again supplied his frugal board, And, with a mournful voice, the tale reveal'd— Father and mother gone, Himself now left alone, Sole heir-his doom of desolation seal'd He beat his brows, and from his eyes Fell tears of blood; his piercing cries 2150 He hasten'd from his gloomy cave, And left him in a milder mood, He trod again his mountain-solitude: For what to him was hoarded store, The wealth of parents now no more? Had he not long, ill-fated one! Abandon'd all for love alone? 2160 XVII. Laili meanwhile had read and seen What Majnún's thoughts had ever been ; And though her plighted faith seem'd broken, Deep in her heart, a thousand woes Disturb'd her days' and nights' repose: 2170 A serpent at its very core, Writhing and gnawing evermore ; And no relief-a prison-room Being now the lovely sufferer's doom. -Fate look'd at last with favouring eye; Where, shrouded, unobserved, she sate, |