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Title: Lalla Rookh
An Oriental romance
Author: Thomas Moore
Illustrator: T. Sulman
John Tenniel
Release date: September 2, 2025 [eBook #76794]
Language: English
Original publication: London: Longman, Green, Longman, & Roberts, 1861
Credits: Aaron Adrignola, Tim Lindell and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LALLA ROOKH ***
LALLA ROOKH:
AN ORIENTAL ROMANCE.
BY THOMAS MOORE.
WITH SIXTY-NINE ILLUSTRATIONS FROM ORIGINAL DRAWINGS BY JOHN TENNIEL,
ENGRAVED ON WOOD BY THE BROTHERS DALZIEL;
AND FIVE ORNAMENTAL PAGES OF PERSIAN DESIGN BY T. SULMAN, JUN.
ENGRAVED ON WOOD BY H. N. WOODS.
LONDON:
LONGMAN, GREEN, LONGMAN, & ROBERTS.
1861.
TO
SAMUEL ROGERS, ESQ.
THIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED
BY
HIS VERY GRATEFUL
AND AFFECTIONATE FRIEND
THOMAS MOORE.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
| LALLA ROOKH. | |
| Illuminated Title-page. | |
| [From several ancient MSS. in the Library of the East India House.] | |
| PAGE | |
| He was a youth about Lalla Rookh’s own age. | 1 |
| That Veiled Prophet of Khorassan | 8 |
| THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORASSAN. | |
| Ornamental Title-page | 9 |
| [Principally from a beautiful MS. in the British Museum.] | |
| There on that throne, to which the blind belief | |
| Of millions rais’d him, sat the Prophet-Chief. | 11 |
| All, all are there;—each Land its flower hath given, | |
| To form that fair young Nursery for Heaven! | 14 |
| Believes the form, to which he bends his knee, | |
| Some pure, redeeming angel, sent to free. | 17 |
| She saw that youth, too well, too dearly known, | |
| Silently kneeling at the Prophet’s throne. | 21 |
| All fire at once the madd’ning zeal she caught;— | |
| Elect of Paradise! blest, rapturous thought! | 25 |
| She swore, and the wide charnel echoed, “Never, never!” | 28 |
| At length, with fiendish laugh, like that which broke | |
| From Eblis at the Fall of Man, he spoke. | 35 |
| “Such the refin’d enchantress that must be | |
| This hero’s vanquisher,—and thou art she!” | 41 |
| He raised his veil—the Maid turn’d slowly round, | |
| Look’d at him—shriek’d—and sunk upon the ground! | 47 |
| Now, through the Haram chambers, moving lights | |
| And busy shapes proclaim the toilet’s rites. | 50 |
| Young Azim roams bewilder’d,—nor can guess | |
| What means this maze of light and loneliness. | 53 |
| He sees a group of female forms advance. | 59 |
| “Poor maiden!” thought the youth, “if thou wert sent.” | 62 |
| Oh! could he listen to such sounds unmov’d, | |
| And by that light—nor dream of her he lov’d? | 68 |
| “Look up, my Zelica—one moment show | |
| Those gentle eyes to me, that I may know.” | 71 |
| “Oh! curse me not,” she cried, as wild he toss’d | |
| His desperate hand tow’rds Heaven. | 75 |
| “Thy oath! thy oath!” | 79 |
| They saw a young Hindoo girl upon the bank | 81 |
| Whose are the gilded tents that crowd the way? | 84 |
| In vain he yells his desperate curses out. | 90 |
| For this alone exists—like lightning-fire, | |
| To speed one bolt of vengeance, and expire! | 94 |
| And they beheld an orb, ample and bright, | |
| Rise from the Holy Well. | 98 |
| And led her glittering forth before the eyes | |
| Of his rude train, as to a sacrifice. | 102 |
| And death and conflagration throughout all | |
| The desolate city hold high festival! | 104 |
| “There, ye wise Saints, behold your Light, your Star— | |
| Ye would be dupes and victims, and ye are.” | 109 |
| He sprung and sunk, as the last words were said— | |
| Quick clos’d the burning waters o’er his head. | 113 |
| “And pray that He may pardon her,—may take | |
| Compassion on her soul for thy dear sake.” | 117 |
| For this the old man breath’d his thanks and died. | 119 |
| PARADISE AND THE PERI. | |
| Ornamental Title-page | 127 |
| [Architectural details from Baghdad, &c.] | |
| The glorious Angel, who was keeping | |
| The gates of Light, beheld her weeping. | 129 |
| —She caught the last— | |
| Last glorious drop his heart had shed. | 135 |
| Like their good angel, calmly keeping | |
| Watch o’er them till their souls would waken. | 143 |
| Then swift his haggard brow he turn’d | |
| To the fair child, who fearless sat. | 148 |
| Blest tears of soul-felt penitence! | 151 |
| And now—behold him kneeling there | |
| By the child’s side, in humble prayer. | 152 |
| “Joy, joy for ever!—my task is done.” | 154 |
| THE FIRE WORSHIPPERS. | |
| Ornamental Title-page | 167 |
| [In part from the binding of a “Shah Namah,” in the East India House Library.] | |
| And sits alone in that high bower | |
| Watching the still and shining deep. | 169 |
| “Oh! ever thus, from childhood’s hour, | |
| I’ve seen my fondest hopes decay.” | 181 |
| “Here, maiden, look—weep—blush to see | |
| All that thy sire abhors in me!” | 185 |
| Fiercely he broke away, nor stopp’d, | |
| Nor look’d—but from the lattice dropp’d. | 189 |
| The morn hath risen clear and calm, | |
| And o’er the Green Sea palely shines. | 192 |
| ’Tis Hafed—name of fear, whose sound | |
| Chills like the muttering of a charm! | 197 |
| His Chiefs stood round—each shining blade | |
| Upon the broken altar laid. | 205 |
| “This very night his blood shall steep | |
| These hands all over ere I sleep!” | 211 |
| And o’er the wide, tempestuous wave | |
| Looks, with a shudder, to those towers. | 216 |
| And snatch’d her breathless from beneath | |
| This wilderment of wreck and death. | 222 |
| Shuddering, she look’d around—there lay | |
| A group of warriors in the sun. | 227 |
| “Tremble not, love, thy Gheber’s here!” | 233 |
| Ancient Persian Fire-Altar, &c. &c. | 236 |
| ’Twas one of those ambrosial eves | |
| A day of storm so often leaves. | 238 |
| Breathless she stands, with eyes cast down. | 241 |
| He felt it—deeply felt—and stood, | |
| As if the tale had frozen his blood. | 248 |
| A signal, deep and dread as those | |
| The storm-fiend at his rising blows. | 254 |
| As mute they pass’d before the flame | |
| To light their torches as they pass’d. | 256 |
| They come—that plunge into the water | |
| Gives signal for the work of slaughter. | 263 |
| “Now, Freedom’s God! I come to Thee.” | 269 |
| Where still she fix’d her dying gaze,— | |
| And, gazing, sunk into the wave. | 274 |
| “Farewell—farewell to thee, Araby’s daughter!” | 277 |
| THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. | |
| Ornamental Title-page | 283 |
| [From porcelain and illuminated MSS.] | |
| Or to see it by moonlight,—when mellowly shines | |
| The light o’er its palaces, gardens, and shrines. | 285 |
| He saw, in the wreaths she would playfully snatch | |
| From the hedges, a glory his crown could not match. | 291 |
| Such cloud it is that now hangs over | |
| The heart of the Imperial Lover. | 295 |
| He heeds them not—one smile of hers | |
| Is worth a world of worshippers. | 297 |
| Fill’d with the cool, inspiring smell, | |
| The Enchantress now begins her spell. | 302 |
| No sooner was the flowery crown | |
| Plac’d on her head, than sleep came down. | 305 |
| That all stood hush’d and wondering, | |
| And turn’d and look’d into the air. | 315 |
| She whispers him with laughing eyes, | |
| “Remember, love, the Feast of Roses!” | 320 |
| They had now begun to ascend those barren mountains. | 321 |
| The marriage was fixed for the morning after her arrival. | 329 |