582 Retrofpedt of Domeftic Literature-—Fine Literature, Arts, &c. 
for a fplendid variety of defcription, 
which, as in Alexander’s Feaft, as in 
the Progrefs of Poefy, as in the Operas 
of Quinault, fhifts, with the cameleon 
capricioufnefs of lyric infpiration, and 
with the verfatile nftantaneity of pan- 
tomime fcenery, from the blafted wil- 
dernefs, to caverns of flame; from 
bowers of paradife, to cities of jewelry ; 
from deferts of fhow, to aromatic ifles; 
and from the crufth of: worlds, to the 
blifs of heaven. As in fhufiling * ta- 
rocco-cards, figures, motiey, new, and 
ftrange, caufing palpitation, dance be- 
fore the eye, and thwart the anxious 
erafp; fo here portentous and:alarm- 
ing forms glare on the wonder, with- 
Out enabling the fpectator to form any 
guefs about their approaching influence 
over the play, by any fpeculation of 
probability. Whatever lofs of intereft 
this poem may fuftain, as a whole, by 
an apparent driftlefinefs of the events 
and characters, is compenfated by the 
bufy variety, the picturefque imagery, 
and ftriking originality of the parts, of 
ee only a fpecimen can convey an 
idea. 
All wafte! no fign of life 
Bat the track of the wolf and the bear! 
No found but the wild, wild wind 
And the fnow crunching under his feet! 
_ Night is come ;-no moon, no ftars, 
Only the light of the fnow! 
But. beholda fire in the cave of the hill 
A heart-reviving fire; 
And thither with ftrength renewed 
Thalaba preffes on. 
He found a woman in the cavey 
A folitary woman, 
Who by the fire was {pinning 
And finging as fhe fpun. 
_. The pine boughs they blazed chearfully, 
And her face was bright with the flame. 
Her face was as a Damiel’s face 
_And yet her hair was grey. 
* ‘She bade him welcome with a {mile 
And {till continued fpinning 
And finging as fhe fpun. 
The thread the Woman drew 
. Was finerthan the filkworm’s, 
Was finer than the goflamer, 
_-"The fong the fung was low and fweet 
And Thalaba knew not the words. 
He laid his bow before the hearth, 
For the fring was frozen ftiff, 
He took the quiver from his neck, 
For the arrow plumes were iced. 
Then as the chearful fire 
Revived his languid limbs, 
* The Italians fhuffe at tarocco their 
eighty cards the gay\fides upwards: 
The adventurer afked for food, - 
The Woman anfwered him, _ 
And ftill her fpeech was fong, — 
*¢ The She Bear the dwells near tome, 
¢* And fhe hath cubs, one, two and three. 
‘¢ She hunts the deer and brings him here, 
‘«s And then with her I make good cheer, 
‘© And the to the chafe is gone 
§¢ And fhe will be here anon.” 
She ceafed from her work as fhe fpakey 
And when the had anfwered him, 
Again her fingers twirled the thread 
And again the Woman began 
In low, {weet, tones to fing 
The unintelligible fong. 
_ ‘The thread fhe fpun it gleamed like gold 
In the light of the odorous fire, 
And yet fo wonderous thin, 
That fave when the light fhone on it 
- -It could not be feen by the eye. 
The youth fat watching it, - 
And fhe beheld his wonder. 
And then again fhe fpake to him 
And ftill. her fpeech was fong,. 
‘¢ Now twine it round thy hands I fay, 
‘*¢ Now twine it round thy hands I pray, 
‘¢ My thread is {mall, my thread is fine, 
s¢ But he muft be 
<¢ A ftronger than thee, 
«¢ Who can break this thread of mine 
And up fhe raifed her bright blue eyes — 
' And {weetly the fmiled on him, 
And he conceived noill. 
And round and round his right hand, 
And round and round his left, 
He wound the thread fo fine. 
And then again the Woman fpake, 
And ftill her fpeech was fong, 
* Now thy ftrength, O Stranger, ftrain, 
$* Now then break the flender chain.” 
Thalaba ftrove, but the thread 
Was woven by magic hands, 
And in his cheek the fluth of fhame 
Arofe, commixt with fear. 
She beheld and laughed at him, 
And then again fhe fung, 
«* My thread is fmall, my thread is fine, » 
<< But he muft be 
** A itronger than thee zs 
** Who can break this thread of mine.” 
And up the raifed her bright blue eyes 
And fiercely fhe fmiled on him, 
*« } thank thee, I thank thee, Hodeirah’s 
Son! 
«© T thank thee for doing what can’t be un- 
done, - 
** For binding thyfelf in the chain I have 
{pun!” ‘ 
Then from his head the wrenched 
A lock of his raven hair, 
And caf it in the fire 
And cried aloud as it burnt, 
‘6 Sifter! Sifter! hear my voice! 
f« Sifter! Siftes ! come and rejoice, 
The 
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