Tales of the Wonder Club Volume II Part 37

The game began. Hardcase and Bleedem also had taken their seats and commenced theirs. Professor Cyanite retired to write his letter, whilst Messrs. Blackdeed and Crucible drew their chairs up to the fire and talked politics.

A stillness reigned through the club as the last-mentioned gentlemen conversed together in a low tone and the rest remained absorbed in their several occupations. Suddenly, in the midst of this unusual silence, the triumphant voice of Mr. Oldstone was heard to cry out the magic word, "check-mate."

"Now then, Parna.s.sus, my boy," said he, rubbing his hands, "a story, you know; there's no getting out of it. Give us a little ode or ballad like that you gave us once before, on the night of our grand saturnalia."

"When I can think of one and a propitious moment presents itself, I am at your service, but these gentlemen, you see, are otherwise occupied; besides, here comes Helen to lay the cloth for supper."

"Well, Helen," cried Mr. Oldstone, "and what has become of your enamoured portrait painter?"

"Mr. McGuilp?" inquired Helen, blus.h.i.+ng deeply. "Is he not here? I left him some time ago cleaning his palette and brushes."

"Ah! here he comes at last," exclaimed Crucible, halting in the middle of his politics. "Lucky dog! to be able to have so much beauty all to himself."

"Well, if he _has_ had Helen to himself all this time, we've had a story during his absence," said the antiquary.

"Ah, but so have we," said McGuilp. "Haven't we Helen?"

"Yes, we have indeed, and a long one," replied Helen.

"The deuce you have," said Crucible. "Upon my word, Mr. McGuilp, I think that's hardly fair; first robbing us of our lady and then telling her a story all to yourself, from which we are debarred."

"Come now," retorted McGuilp, "are we not quits? Have you already forgotten my story of the 'Scharfrichter,' with which I purchased a sitting from Helen? If Helen and I have had a story together from which you have been shut out, at least you have had one that we have not enjoyed."

"Yes, Crucible, I think it is all fair," said Oldstone, backing up his young friend.

The cloth now being laid, the members drew their chairs to the table, and the supper went off amidst laughter and jovial conversation. The bottle went round a few times at the last before the cloth was finally cleared, when each drew round the fire, which was now blazing fiercely, our host having just put on a fresh log, and each lighting his pipe, waited, according to custom, for someone to broach a new story.

"Now, Parna.s.sus, my boy," said Oldstone, "we are quite ready for your story. What is it to be?"

"Well then, gentlemen, since I must pay my forfeit, I will, according to a wish expressed by Mr. Oldstone, sing you a little ballad of my own composing."

"Yes, yes; hear, hear! A song, a song! Make ready for a song."

The members re-settled themselves on their chairs, and p.r.o.nounced themselves "all attention," while the young poet, throwing himself back carelessly in his chair and crossing one leg over the other, began in a clear rich voice, the following ditty.

THE CHIEFTAIN'S DESTINY.

CANTO THE FIRST.

A skiff is seen upon the main, The purple wave of Oman's sea; Her prow doth long to kiss again The perfumed sh.o.r.es of Araby.

A gentle Zephyr fills the sail.

But, ah, too soft, too mild the gale For one on board, who, mounted high, Scans the far sh.o.r.e with eagle eye.

'Tis Selim's bark that, long away, Hath wandered on the salt sea foam, And brings him after many a day Back to this land, though not his home.

What in the distance glads his eye?

A sight none other can descry-- The kerchief he his mistress gave Now from her cas.e.m.e.nt high doth wave.

The signal yet is but a speck, The cloud has vanished from his brow; Yet chafing still, he walks the deck Impatiently from helm to prow, As if his eagerness could urge His vessel faster through the surge.

But as the craft now nigher drew, The signal note his swarthy crew.

Now gaily speeds the gallant bark, Soon within grasp of land once more; The sun has set, yet 'tis not dark.

Each swarthy sailor leaps ash.o.r.e, Yet almost ere they can alight Their captain scales a dizzy height, And in the moonlight hand in hand Two lovers at the cas.e.m.e.nt stand.

"Oh, Selim! why this long delay?"

A soft voice whispers 'neath the moon.

"I've wept for thee full many a day, Watching the sea from morn till noon, In hope-- But hist! there're footsteps nigh; The Caliph keeps a watchful eye.

The moon is up, thou must be gone-- One kiss. Farewell. We meet at dawn."

Zuleika to her bower turned-- Her jasmine bower's perfumed shade; A fever in her bosom burned.

That night upon her couch being laid, The nightingale that woos the rose Breaks not so much on her repose As the loud beating of her heart With feelings she will ne'er impart

To mortal man, save him alone Who wooed and won her from her sire.

Her love in secret long hath grown, And much she fears her parents' ire; She knows her father sets his face Against her lover's impious race, But still, her troth is plighted now.

"Or him or Death," thus ran her vow.

CANTO THE SECOND.

Zuleika's beauty from her birth Had been such as might well entice The saints above to visit Earth From Mahommed's gay Paradise; Her raven tresses shamed the night, Her step so proud and yet so light, 'Twould seem as though she trod the air, Like Peri; nor was she less less fair.

An eye that mocked the wild gazelle, A voice, although untrained by art, Sweet as a strain of Israfel, The strings of whose melodious heart A lyre are, with tones so sweet That angels listen at his feet, And the stars sink to the ground When those living chords resound.

That cheek that paled the rose in hue Grows pallid, and her bosom heaves; Those lips, like rosebuds in the dew Enclosing pearls within their leaves, Are trembling, and her fairy form, Like lily bending to the storm, Quivers as an aspen grove, With sore misgivings of her love.

The Caliph was a man of might; Zuleika was his only child, He scarce could bear her from his sight, Nor was he of a temper mild; And woe to him, the caitiff Giaour Who fell in dread El Amin's power.

Zuleika sighs, what fears appal Her soul, lest this should him befall.

The maiden slumbered scarce that night, Or she slumbered but to dream, Such dreams as bravest souls affright; Then waking with a start or scream, She soon forsook her fitful sleep, O'er Selim's likely fate to weep, Till the morning star's dim ray Now heralds the approach of day.

The morning shed a ghastly light, Appearing to Zuleika's eye Full ominous. The clouds in sight Like streaks of blood across the sky, While gazing on the distance drear, Hark! what footsteps greet her ear?

She spies afar at fullest speed Her lover on his Arab steed.

CANTO THE THIRD.

One bound, and he is by her side; She greets him with a sorrowing eye.

"What ails thee now, my love, my bride, And wherefore dost thou deeply sigh?

There is a shade upon thy brow That I have never seen till now.

Shake off these moods, dispel all fear.

Is't not enough that I am here?"

Zuleika heaved a heavy sigh.

"Oh, Selim, if thou still art mine, Take me, and this instant fly Unto thy home across the brine; For if there's danger hovering nigh With thee, and not alone, I'd die.

Set off at once, nor more delay; See how yon orb leads on the day."

"Nay, loved one, but I have a vow.