Fringilla

KADISHA; OR, THE FIRST JEALOUSY

AN EASTERN LEGEND

HERE IS A CURIOUS LEGEND AS TO THE ORIGIN OP JEALOUSY. WHEN ADAM AND EVE WERE IN PARADISE, THE FORMER WAS ACCUSTOMED TO RETIRE AT EVENTIDE TO THE RECESSES OF THE GARDEN, FOR THE PURPOSE OF PRAYER. ON ONE OF THESE OCCASIONS THE DEVIL APPEARED TO EVE, AND INFORMED HER THAT HER SOLITUDE WAS TO BE ACCOUNTED FOR BY THE ATTRACTIONS OF ANOTHER FAIR ONE. EVE REPLIED THAT IT COULD NOT BE SO, AS SHE WAS THE ONLY WOMAN IN EXISTENCE. "IF I SHOW YOU ANOTHER, WILL YOU BELIEVE ME?" RETURNED THE EVIL ONE, AND PRODUCED A MIRROR, IN WHICH SHE SAW HER OWN REFLECTION, AND MISTOOK IT FOR HER RIVAL. See "Life in Abyssinia," by Mr. Parkyns. Murray, Albemarle Street.

The Kadisha, flowing to the south of Lebanon, is called "the holy river," as having been a minor stream of Paradise.

PART   I

     True love's regale is incomplete,     'Till bitter leaven make it sweet;     Accept not then our tale amiss,     That jealousy was part of bliss;     But rather note a mercy here,     That fact was thus outrun by fear;     And so, before the harder bout,       When sin must be encountered too,       A woman's heart already knew     The way to conquer doubtI     "When sleep was in the summer air,       And stars looked down on Paradise,     And palms and cedars answered fair       The visionary night-wind's sighs,         And murmuring prayer:     When every flower was in its hood       (By clasps of diamond dew retained),     Or sunk to elude Phalcena's brood,       Down slumber's breast with shadows veined,         In solitude:       The citron, stephanote, and rose,         Pomegranate, hoya, calycanth,         And yet unwanted amaranth,       Were sweetness in repose:II     When rivulets were loth to creep,       Except unto the pillow moss,     And distant lake, encurtained deep,       Was but a silver thread across         The eyes of sleep:     When nightingales, in the sycamore,       Sang low and soft, as an echo dreaming;     And slept the moon upon heaven's shore—       The tidal shore of heaven, beaming         With lazuled ore:       When new-born earth was fain to lean         In Summer's arms, recovering         The unaccustomed toil of Spring,       Why slept not Eve, their Queen?III     Upon a smooth fern-mantled stone       She sat, and watched the wicket-gate,     Not timid in her woman's throne,       Nor lonely in her sinless state,         Though all alone;     For having spread her simple board       With grapes, and peaches, milk, and flowers,     She strewed sweet mastic o'er the sward,       And waited through the bridal hours         Step of her lord.       Such innocence around her breathed,         And freshness of young nature's play,         The sensitive plant shrank not away,       And cactus' swords were sheathed.IV     The vision of her beauty fell,       Like music on a moonlit place,     Or trembles of a silver bell,       Or memories of a sacred face,         Too dear to tell:     The grace that wandered free of laws,       The look that lit the heart's confession,     Had never dreamed how fair it was;       Nor guessed that purity's expression         Is beauty's cause:       No more that unenquiring heart         Perused the sweet home of her breast,         Than turtle-doves unline their nest       To scan the outer partV     Although, in all that garden fair,       Whate'er delight abode, or grew,     Flowers, and trees, and balmy air,       Fountains, and birds, and heaven blue         Beyond compare:     In her their various charms had met,       And grown more varied by combining,     As budded plants do give and get,       Each inmate doubling while resigning         His several debt:       And yet she nursed one joy, above         Her thousand charms, nor bora of them,         But blooming on a single stem—       Her true faith in her love.VI     And though, before she heard his foot,       The moon had climbed the homestead palm,     Flinging to her the shadowed fruit,       And tree-frogs ceased to break the calm,         And birds were mute,     With sudden transport ever new,       She blushed, and sprang from forth the bower,     Her eyes, as bright as moon-lit dew,       Her bosom glad as snow-veiled flower,         When sun shines through;       He, with a natural dignity         Untaught self-consciousness by harm,         Sustained her with his manly arm,       And smiled upon her glee.VII     Next day, when early evening shone       Along the walks of Paradise,     Strewing with gold the hills, her throne,       Embarrassing the winds with spice         (Too rich a loan),     Fair Eve was in her bower of ease,       A cool arcade of fruit and flowers,     From North and East enclasped by trees,       But open to the Western showers,         And Southern breeze.       Here followed she her gardening trade,         Her favourites' simple needs attending,         And singing soft, above them bending,       A song herself had made.VIII     In evening's calm, she walked between       The tints and shades of rich delight,     While overhead came, arching green,       Many a shrub and parasite,         To crown their Queen;     There laughed the joy of the rose, among       Myrtle and Iris, heaven's eye,     Magnole, with cups of moonlight hung,       And Fuchsia's sunny chandlery,         And coral tongue;       And where the shy brook fluttered through,         Nepenthe held her chalice leaf         (Undrained as yet by human grief),       And broad Nymphaea grew.IX     But where the path bent towards the wood,       Across it hung a sombre screen,     The deadly night-shade, leaden-hued;       And there behind it, darkly seen,         A Being stood:     The form, if any form it had,       Was likest to a nightly vision     In mantle of amazement clad,       A terror-sense, without precision,         Of something bad.       A tremble chilled the forest shade,         A roving lion turned and fled,         The birds cowered home in hush of dread;       But Eve was not afraid.X     She stood before him, sweetly bold,       To keep him from her garden shrine,     With hair that fell, a shower of gold,       Around her figure's snowy line         And rosy mould:     He (with a re-awakened sense       Of goodness, long for ever lost,     And angel beauty's pure defence)       Shrank back, unable to accost         Such innocence:       But envy soon scoffed down his shame;         And with a smile, designed for fawning,         But like hell's daybreak sickly dawning,       His crafty accents came.XI     "Sweet ignorance, 'tis sad and hard       To break thy fond confiding spell;     And my soft heart hath such regard       For thine, that I will never tell         What may be spared."     He turned aside, o'erwhelmed with pain,       And drew a sigh of deep compassion:     She trembled, flushed, and gazed again,       And prayed him quick, in woman's fashion,         To speak it plain:       "Then, if thou must be taught to grieve,         And scorn the guile thou hast adored—         The man who calls himself thy lord,       Where goes he, every eve?"XII     "Nay, then," she cried, "if that be all,       I care not what thou hast to say;     The guile that lurks therein is small—       My husband but retires to pray,         At evening call."     "To pray? Oh yes, and on his knees       May-hap to find a lovely being:     Devotions so devout as these       Are best at night, with no one seeing,         Among the trees."       She blushed as deep as modesty,         Then glancing back as bright as cride,         "What woman can he find,' she cried,       "In all the world, but me?"XIII     He laughed with a superior sneer,       Enough to shake e'en woman's faith;     "Wilt thou believe me, simple dear,       If I am able now," he saith,         "To show her here?"     She cried aloud with gladsome heart,       "Be that the test whereon to try thee;     Nature and heaven shall take my part:       Come, show this rival; I defy thee         And all thy art."       A mirror, held in readiness,         He set upright before her feet—         "Now can thy simple charms compete       With beauty such as this?"XIV     A lovelier sight therein she saw       Than ever yet had charmed her eyes,     A fairer picture, void of flaw,       Than any, even Paradise       Itself, could draw;     A woman's form of perfect grace,       In shadowy softness delicate;     Though flushed by sunset's rich embrace,       A white rose could not imitate         Her innocent face:       Then, through the deepening glance of fear,         The shaft of doubt came quivering,         The sorrow-shaft—a sigh its wing,       And for its barb a tear.XV     "Ah me!" she cried, "too true it is!       A simple homely thing, like Eve,     Hath not a chance to rival this,       But must resign herself to grieve         O'er by-gone bliss.     "Till now it was enough for me       To be what God our Father made;     Oh, Adam, I was proud to be       (As I have felt, and thou hast said)         A part of thee.       "No marvel that my lord can spare         His true and heaven-appointed bride.         And yet affection might have tried       To fancy me as fair."XVI     The Tempter, glorying in his wile,       Hath ta'en his mirror and withdrawn;     Again the flowers look up and smile,       And brightens off from air and lawn         The taint of guile.     But smiles come not again to Eve,       Nor brightens off her dark reflection:     Her garland-crown she hath ceased to weave,       And, plucking, maketh no selection;         Only to grieve.       She feels a dewy radiance steep         The languid petals of her eyes,         And hath another sad surprise,       To know the way to weep,

PART II

     The tears were still in woman's eyes,     When morn awoke on Paradise;     And still her sense of shame forbade     To tell her grievance, or upbraid;     Nor knew she which was dearer cost,     To seek him, or to shun him most     Then Adam, willing to believe       A heart by casual fancy moved       Would soon come back, at voice she loved,     Addressed his song to Eve.I     "Come fairest, while the morn is fair,       And dews are bright as yon clear eyes;     Calm down this tide of troubled hair,       Forget with me all other sighs         Than summer air.     "Like me, the woodland shadows roam       At light (their fairer comrade's) side;     And peace and joy salute our home;       And lo, the sun in all his pride—         My sunshine, come!       "The fawns and birds, that know our call,         Are waiting for our presence—see,         They wait my presence, love; and thee,       The most desired of all.II     "The trees, which thought it grievous thing       To weep their own sweet leaves away,     Untaught as yet how soon the Spring       Upon their nestled heads should lay         Her callow wing—     "The trees, whereat we smiled again,       To see them, in their growing wonder,     Suppose their buds were verdant rain,       Until the gay winds rustled under         Their feathered train,       "Lo, now they stand in braver mien,         And, claiming stronger shadow-right,         Make prisoner of the intrusive light,       And strew the winds with green.III     "Of all the flowers that bow the head,       Or gaze erect on sun and sky,     Not one there is, declines to sned,       Or standeth up, to qualify         His incense-meed:     "Of all that blossom one by one,       Or join their lips in loving cluster,     Not one hath now resolved alone,       Or taken counsel, that his lustre         Shall be unshown.       "So let thy soul a blossom be,         To breathe the fragrance of its praise,         And lift itself, in early days,       To Him who fosters thee.IV     "Of all the founts, bedropped with light,       Or silver-tress'd with shade of trees,     Not one there is, but sprinkles bright       It's plume of freshness on the breeze,         And jewelled flight:     "Of all that hush among the moss,       Or babble to the lily-vases,     Not one there is but purls across       A gush of the delight, that causes         It's limpid gloss.       "So let thy heart a fountain be,         To rise in sparkling joy, and fall         In dimpled melody—and all       For love of home, and me."V     The only fount her heart became       Rose quick with sighs, and fell in tears;     While pink upon her white cheek came,       (Like apple-blossom among pear's)         The tinge of shame.     Her husband, pierced with new alarm,       Bent nigh to ask of her distresses,     Enclasping her with sheltering arm,       Unwinding by discreet caresses,         The thread of harm.       Then she, with sobs of slow relief         (For silence is the jail of care)         Confessed, for him to heal or share,       The first of human grief.VI     "I cannot look on thee, and think       That thou has ceased to hold me dear;     I cannot break the loosened link:       When thou, my only one, art near,         How can I shrink?     "So it were better, love—I mean,       My lord, it is more wise and right—     That I, as one whose day hath been,       Should keep my pain from pleasure's sight,         And dwell unseen.       "And—though it break my heart to say—         However sad my loneliness,         I fear thou wouldst rejoice in this—       To have me far away.VII     "I know not how it is with man,       Perhaps his nature is to change,     On finding consort fairer than—       But oh, I cannot so arrange         My nature's plan!     "And haply thou hast never thought       To vex, or make me feel forsaken;     But, since to thee the thing was nought,       Supposed 'twould be as gaily taken,         As lightly brought.       "Yet, is it strange that I repine,         And feel abased in lonely woe,         To lose thy love—or e'en to know       That half of it is mine?VIII     "For whom have I on earth but thee,       What heart to love, or home to bless?     Albeit I was wrong, I see,       To think my husband took no less         Delight in me.     "But even now, if thou wilt stay,       Or try at least no more to wander,     And let me love thee, day by day,       Till time, or habit, make thee fonder       (If so it may)—       "Thou shalt have one more truly bent,         In homely wise, on serving thee,         Than any stranger e'er can be;       And Eve shall seem content."IX     Not loud she wept—but hope could hear;       Sweet hope, who in his lifelong race     Made terms, to win the goal from fear,       That each alternate step should trace         A smile and tear.     But Adam, lost in wide amaze,       Regarded her with troubled glances,     Misdoubting 'neath her steady gaze,       Himself to be in strange romances,       And dreamy haze:       Then questioning in hurried voice,         And scarcely waiting her replies,         He spoke, and showed the true surprise       That made her soul rejoice.X     She told him what the Tempter said,       And what her frightened self had seen,     (That form in loveliness arrayed,       With modest face, and graceful mien)         And how displayed.     Then well-content to show his bride       The worldly knowledge he possessed,     (That world whereof was none beside)       He laid his hand upon his breast,         And thus replied:—       "Wife, mirror'd here too deep to see,         "A little way down yonder path,         "And I will show the form which hath       "Enchanted thee, and me."XI     Kadisha is a streamlet fair,       Which hurries down the pebbled way,     As one who hath small time to spare,       So far to go, so much to say     To summer air;     Sometimes the wavelets wimple in       O'erlapping tiers of crystal shelves,     And little circles dimple in,       As if the waters quaffed themselves,         The while they spin:       Thence in a clear pool, overbent         With lotus-tree and tamarind flower,         Empearled, and lulled in golden bower,       Kadisha sleeps content.XII     Their steps awoke the quiet dell;       The first of men was smiling gay;     Still trembled Eve beneath the spell,       The mystery of that passion-sway         She could not quell.     As they approached the silver strand,       He plucked a moss-rose budding sweetly,     And wreathing bright her tresses' band,       Therein he set the blossom featly,         And took her hand:       He led her past the maiden-hair,         Forget-me-not, and meadow-sweet,         Until the margin held her feet,       Like water-lilies fainXIII     "Behold," he cried, "on yonder wave,       The only one with whom I stray,     The only image still I have,       Too often, even while I pray         To Him who gave.     The form she saw was long unknown,       Except as that beheld yestreen;     Till viewing, not that form alone,       But his, with hands enclasped between,         She guessed her own.       And, Bending O'er in Sweet Surprise,         Perused, With Simple Child's Delight,         the Flowing Hair, and Forehead White,       and Soft Inquiring Eyes.XIV     Then, blushing to a fairer tint       Than waves might ever hope to catch,     "I see," she cried, "a lovely print;       But surely I can never match         This lily glint!     "So pure, so innocent, and bright,       So charming free, without endeavour,     So fancy-touched with pensive light I       I think that I could gaze for ever,         With new delight       "And now that rose-bud in my hair,         Perhaps it should be placed above—         And yet, I will not change it, love,       Since mou hast set it there.XV     "Vain Eve, why glory thus in Eve?       What matter Tor thy form or face?     Thy beauty is, if love believe       Thee worthy of that treasured place         Thou ne'er shalt leave.     "Oh, husband; mine and mine alone,       Take back my faith that dared to wander;     Forgive my joy to have thee shown       Not transient, as thine image yonder,         But all my own.       "And, love, if this be vain of me,         This pleasure, and the pride I take;         Tis only for thy dearer sake,       To be so fair to thee."XVI     No more she said; but smiling fell,       And lost her sorrow on his breast;     Her love-bright eyes upon him dwell,       Like troubled waters laid at rest         In comfort's well:     Tis nothing more, an' if she weep,       Than joy she cannot else reveal;     As onyx-gems of Pison keep       A tear-vein, where the sun may steal         Throughout their deep.       May every Adam's fairer part         Thus, only thus, a rival find—         The image of herself, enshrined       Within the faithful heart!

MOUNT ARAFA

IN TWO PARTS

"Mount Arafa, situated about a mile from Mecca, is held in great veneration by the Mussulmans, as a place very proper for penitence. Its fitness in this respect is accounted for by a tradition that Adam and Eve, on being banished out of Paradise, in order to do penance for their transgression were parted from each other, and after a separation of six score years, met again upon this mountain." Ockley's "History of the Saracens," p. 60

THE  PARTING

I     Driven away from Eden's gate       With   biasing   falchions fenced about,     Into a desert desolate,       A miserable pair came out,         To meet their fate.     To wander in a world of woe,       To ache and starve, to burn and shiver,     With every living thing their foe—       The fire of God above, the river         Of death below.       Of home, of hope, of Heaven bereft;         It is the destiny of man         To cower beneath his Maker's ban,       And hide from his own theft!II     The father of a world unborn—       Who hath begotten death, ere life—     In sullen silence plods forlorn;       His love and pride in his fair wife         Are rage and scorn.     Instead of Angel ministers,       What hath he now but fiends devouring;     Instead of grapes and melons, burs;       In lieu of manna, crab and souring—         By whose fault?   Hers!       Alack, good sire of feeble knees,         New penance waits thee; since—when thus         Thou shouldst have wept for all of us—       Thou mournest thine own ease IIII     The mother of all loving wives       (Condemned unborn to many a tear)     Is fain to take his hand, and strives       In sorrow to be doubly dear—         But shame deprives.                 The Shame, The Woe, The Black Surprise,       That Love's First Dream Should Have Such Ending,     to Weep, and Wipe Neglected Eyes I       Oh Loss of True Love, Far Transcending         Lost Paradise!       For is it faith, that cannot live         One gloomy hour, and soar above         The clouds of fate?   And is it love,       That will not e'en forgive?IV     The houseless monarch of the earth       Hath quickly found what empire means;     For while he scoffs with bitter mirth,       And curses, after Eden's scenes,         This dreary dearth.     A snake, that twined in playful zeal,       But yester morn, around his ankle,     Now driven along the dust to steal,       Steals up, and leaves its venom'd rankle         Deep in his heel.       He groans awhile.    He seeks anon         For comfort to this first of pain,         Where all his sons to-day are fain;       He seeks—but Eve is gone!

PART I—ADAM

     O'er hill, and highland, moor, and plain,     A hundred years, he seeks in vain;     Oer hill and plain, a hundred years,     He pours the sorrow no one hears;     Yet finds, as wildest mourners find,     Some ease of heart in toil of mind.I     "YE mountains, that forbid the day,       Ye glens, that are the steps of night,     How long amid you must I stray,       Deserted, banished from God's sight,         And castaway?     "Ye trees and flowers the Lord hath made,       Ye beasts, to my good-will committed—     Although your trust hath been betrayed—       Not long ago ye would have pitied         Your old comrade.       "Oh, nature, noblest when alone,         Albeit I love your outward part;         The nature that enthrals my heart       Must be more like my own.II     "The Maker once appointed me—       I know not, and I care not why—     The lord of everything I see,       Or if they walk, or swim, or fly,         Whate'er they be.     "And all the earth whereon they dwell,       And all the heavens they are inhaling,     And powers, whereof I cannot tell—       Dark miscreants, supine and wailing,         Until I fell.       "Twas good and glorious to believe;         But now mv majesty is o'er;         And I would give it all, and more,       For one sweet glimpse of Eve.III     "For what is glory, what is power?       And what the pride of standing first?     A twig struck down by a thunder shower,       A crown of thistle to quench the thirst,         A sun-scorched flower.     "God grant the men who spring from me,       As knowledge waxeth deep and splendid,     To find a loftier pedigree       Than any by the Lord intended—         Frog, slug, or tree!       "So shall they live, without the grief         Of having womankind to love,         Find nought below, and less above,       And be their own belief.IV     "So weak was I, so poorly taught,       By any but my Maker's voice,     Too happy to indulge in thought,       Which gives me Tittle to rejoice,         And ends in nought.     "But now and then, my path grows clear,       My mind casts off its grim confusion,     When I have chanced on goodly cheer:       Then happiness seems no delusion,         Even down here.       "With love and faith, to bless the curse,         To heal the mind by touch of heart,         To make me feel my better part,       And fight against the worse.V     "It may be that I did o'erprize,       Above the Giver, that rare gift,     Ungird my will for softer ties,       And hold my manhood little thrift         To woman's eyes.     "So far she was, so full of grace,       So innocent with coy caresses,     So proud to step at my own pace,       So rosy through her golden tresses;         And such a face!       "Suffice my sins; I'll ne'er approve         A thought against my faithful Eve;         Suffice my sins; I'll never believe.       That it was one, to love.VI     "Oh; love, if e'er this desert plain,       Where I must sweat with axe and spade,     Shall hold a people sprung from twain,       Or better made by Him, who made         That pair in vain.     "Shall any know, as we have known,       Thy rapture, terror, vaunting, fretting,     Profound despair, ecstatic tone,       Crowning of reason, and upsetting         Of reason's throne?       "Bright honey quaffed from cells of gall,         Or crimson sting from creamy rose—         Thy heavenly half from Eden flows,       Thy venom from our fall."     Awhile he ceased; far scorching woe     Had made a drought of vocal flow;     When hungry, weary, desolate,     A fox crept home to his defis gate.     The sight brought Adam's memory back,     And touched him with a keener lack.VII     "Home! Where is home? Of old I thought       (Or felt in mystery of bliss)     That so divinely was I wrought       As not to care for that or this,         And value nought;     "But sit or saunter, rest or roam,       Regarding all things most sublimely,     As if enthroned on heaven's dome;       Away with paltry and untimely         Hankerings for Home!       "But now the weary heart is fain         For shelter in some lowly nest—         To sink upon a softer breast,       And smile away its pain,VIII     "For me, what home, what hope is left?       What difference of good or ill?     Of all I ever loved bereft,       Disgraced, discarded, outlawed still,         For one small theft!     "I sicken of my skill and pride;       I work, without a bit of caring.     The world is waste, the world is wide;       Why make good things, with no one sharing         Them at my side?       "What matters how I dwell, or die?         Away with such a niggard life!         The Lord hath robbed me of my wife;       And life is only I.IX     "God, who hast said it is not good       For man, thy son, to live alone;     Is everlasting solitude,       When once united bliss was known,         A livelier food?     "Can'st thou suppose it right or just,       When thine own creature so misled us,     In virtue of our simple trust,       To torture us like this, and tread us         Back into dust?       "Oh, fool I am. Oh, rebel worm!         If, when immortal, I was slain,         For daring to impugn his reign,       How shall I, thus infirm?X     "Woe me, poor me! No humbler yet,       For all the penance on me laid!     Forgive me, Lord, if I forget       That I am but what Thou hast made,         My soul Thy debt!     "Inspire me to survey the skies,       And tremble at their golden wonder;     To learn the space that I comprise,       At once to marvel, and to ponder,     And drop mine eyes.       "And grant me?—for I do but find,         In seeking more than God hath shown,         I scorn His power and lose my own—       Grant me a lowly mind.XI     "A lowly mind!  Thou wondrous sprite,       Whose frolics make their master weep;     Anon, endowed with eagle's flight,       Anon, too impotent to creep,         Or blink aright;—     "Howe'er, thy trumpery flashes play       Among the miracles above thee,     Be taught to feel thy Maker's sway,       To labour, so that He shall love thee,         And guide thy way.       "Be led, from out the cloudy dreams         Of thy too visionary part,         To listen to the whispering heart,       And curb thine own extremes.XII     "Then hope shall shine from heaven, and give       To fruit of hard work, sunny cheek,     And flowers of grace and love revive,       And shrivelled pasturage grow sleek,         And corn snail thrive.     "Beholding gladness, Eve and I,       Enfolding it also in each other,     May talk of heaven without a sigh;       Because our heaven in one another         Love shall supply.       "For courage, faith, and bended knees,         By stress of patience, cure distress,       And turn wild Love-in-idleness       Into the true Heartsease."     The Lord breathed on the first of men,     And strung his limbs to strength again;     He scorned a century of ill,     And girt his loins to climb the parting hill.