BEHIND the veil, where depth is traced
By many a complicated line,—
Behind the lattice closely laced
With filagree of choice design,—
Behind the lofty garden-wall,
Where stranger face can ne'er surprise,—
That inner world her all-in-all,
The Eastern Woman lives and dies.
Husband and children round her draw
The narrow circle where she rests;
His will the single perfect law,
That scarce with choice her mind molests;
Their birth and tutelage the ground
And meaning of her life on earth
She knows not elsewhere could be found
The measure of a woman's worth.
If young and beautiful, she dwells
An Idol in a secret shrine,
Where one high-priest alone dispels
The solitude of charms divine:
And in his happiness she lives,
And in his honour has her own,
And dreams not that the love she gives
Can be too much for him alone.
Within the gay kiosk reclined,
Above the scent of lemon groves,
Where bubbling fountains kiss the wind,
And birds make music to their loves,-
She lives a kind of faëry life,
In sisterhood of fruits and flowers,
Unconscious of the outer strife,
That wears the palpitating hours.
And when maturer duties rise
In pleasure's and in passion's place,
Her duteous loyalty supplies
The presence of departed grace:
So hopes she, by untiring truth,
To win the bliss to share with him
Those glories of celestial youth,
That time can never taint or dim.*
Thus in the ever-closed Hareem,
As in the open Western home,
Sheds womanhood her starry gleam
Over our being's busy foam;
Through latitudes of varying faith
Thus trace we still her mission sure,
To lighten life, to sweeten death,
And all for others to endure.
* It is supposed to be left to the will of the husband to decide whether his wife should be united to him in a future state: but this does not imply that her happiness after death depends upon him.
Home of the East! thy threshold's edge Checks the wild foot that knows no fear, Yet shrinks, as if from sacrilege
When rapine comes thy precincts near : Existence, whose precarious thread Hangs on the tyrant's mood and nod, Beneath thy roof its anxious head Rests, as within the house of God.
There, though without he feels a slave,
Compelled another's will to scan,
Another's favour forced to crave-
There is the Subject still the Man:
There is the form that none but he
Can touch, the face that he alone
Of living men has right to see ;—
Not He who fills the Prophet's throne.
Then let the Moralist, who best
Honours the female heart, that blends
The deep affections of the West
With thought of life's sublimest ends, Ne'er to the Eastern home deny
Its lesser, yet not humble praise,
To guard one pure humanity
Amid the stains of evil days.
A SIMPLE unpartitioned room,—
Surmounted by an ample dome,
Or, in some lands that favoured lie,
With centre open to the sky,
But roofed with archèd cloisters round,
That mark the consecrated bound,
And shade the niche to Mekkeh turned,
By which two massive lights are burned;
With pulpit, whence the sacred word
Expounded on great days is heard;
With fountain fresh, where, ere they pray,
Men wash the soil of earth away;
With shining mina'ret, thin and high,
From whose fine-trelliced balcony
Announcement of the hours of prayer
Is uttered to the silent air;
Such is the Mosque-the holy place,
Where faithful men of every race,
Meet at their ease, and face to face.
Not that the power of God is here
More manifest, or more to fear;
Not that the glory of his face
Is circumscribed by any space;
But that, as men are wont to meet
In court or chamber, mart or street,
For purposes of gain or pleasure,
For friendliness or social leisure,—
So, for the greatest of all ends
To which intelligence extends,
The worship of the Lord, whose will
Created and sustains us still,
And honour of the Prophet's name,
By whom the saving message came,
Believers meet together here,
And hold these precincts very dear.
The floor is spread with matting neat,
Unstained by touch of shodden feet-
A decent and delightful seat!
Where, after due devotions paid,
And legal ordinance obeyed,
Men may in happy parlance join,
And gay with serious thought combine;
May ask the news from lands away,
May fix the business of to-day;
Or, with "God willing," at the close,
To-morrow's hopes and deeds dispose.
Children are running in and out
With silver-sounding laugh and shout,
No more disturbed in their sweet play,
No more disturbing those that pray,
Than the poor birds, that fluttering fly
Among the rafters there on high,
Or seek at times, with grateful hop,
The corn fresh-sprinkled on the top.*
* Many of the mosques possess funds dedicated to the support of birds and other animals: one at Cairo has a large boat at the top filled with
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