THE DAUGHTERS OF KING DAHIR.

A ROMANCE OF HISTORY.*

BY MRS. POSTANS.

IN the beautiful land of Syria, on the pleasant plain of rich Damascus, all was mirth and beauty. The mountains of Lebanon, capped with snow, blushed under the sunset ray; the lovely range of Hermon, with its picturesque and varied forms, towered in the distance; the silvery waters of the Orontes meandered through the rich olive groves, or played in sparkling fountains among the dark and glossy foliage; while the immediate plain was crowded with festive groups of many nations-Jews and Christians, Greeks and Armenians, Syrians and Egyptians some progressing on splendid Arabian horses or richly caparisoned mules towards the city, and others reposing for a while on the pleasant banks of the glittering Pharphar. That was indeed a bright spot of earth on which stood the gorgeous city of the Seven Gates, and he who looked upon it could well imagine why the great Prophet of the Moslems ever turned with a sigh from the fair valley of Damascus, lest it should tempt him with an earthly Paradise; for, even in its natural features, no scene could compare with it in loveliness, and now, as a festive and joyous people reposed by its fountains, or revelled in its shades, none could have so charmed the eye with the full perfection of oriental beauty.

It was from the great fair of Abyla that these groups were now returning to the city, and few there were to cavil at the indolence and luxury of the great Khalif, whose love of pleasure thus shed its influences over the enjoyments of his people.

The Khalif Wallid was young, handsome, and powerful. He owed his fabulous descent to the Chosroes of Persia, the Cæsars of Rome,' the Chagans of the Turks; his generals and armies were unrivalled and triumphant, while his own luxury and taste added refinement to the indulgences of passion, and magnificence to his conquests. The banners of Islam floated over the Christian church and the Pagan temple, the standard of Mahomed had become the scourge of infidels, and the Arab warriors, waving the crescent over their fallen fanes, preached the creed of the Prophet upon the blood-stained battle-field. Spain and the rich territories of Trans-Osiana fell before the victorious generals of the great Wallid, and while all this was acted afar, under the command of his brave Lieutenant Catibah, the Khalif, lapped in

The facts on which the following romance is framed are to be found in the early Persian histories of Sindh, and describe the Mohamedan conquest of that country, and the taking of its celebrated Hindu capital Alōr, by the Khalif Wallid, in the year of the Hegira 92, A.D. 710.

The site of the ancient city is to be found at a distance of about six miles from Sukkur, in Upper Sindh, but a few crumbling remnants of Mohamedan edifices, (principally of mosques and musjids,) with a bridge over the now dry channel of the Indus, said to have been built some seven hundred years since by a Moslem governor of Alor, is all that now remains of its ancient magnificence.-M. P.

July 1843.--VOL. XXXVII.—NO. CXLVII.

the luxurious indulgence allowed him by his religion, remained inactive in his splendid palace of Damascus, surrounded by the rich spoils of unknown nations, red gold and sparkling gems, fine arms and silken robes, with countless treasures, plundered from the infidel countries of the East.

But now, surrounded as he was with all the power of the Ommiadic Khalifate, and the richness and beauty of his seat of government— blessed as he was with his noble wife, the daughter of the great Firuz, and proud, as he well might be, of his handsome son, young Hezid, the Khalif Wallid paced his marble halls, and his haughty brow was clouded with ungovernable rage. It was seldom that such a mood oppressed the prince, seldom that his fair slave-girls and his bands of rare musicians were banished from his presence, and alarm consequently awaited on the change. His Arab guards shrunk back with fear, his minister, the wise Bin Yusuf, watched in silent dread the movements of his excited master, and none but the noble and dauntless young chief, Bin Cassim drew fortunate auguries from the Khalif's mood. The spirit of the Moslem, and the prince, was now evidently lashing itself to fury, while fearful in its threats became the gleam of his fiery glance.

"Ha!" exclaimed the Khalif at length, in a voice of thunder, stopping before his minister, and half drawing from its rich scabbard his rich Damascus blade-" is the representative of the Holy Prophet to be bearded by a worshipper of wood and stone? Are dogs of infidels to heap insult on the favoured servant of Mahomed? and is the accursed son of a shaven Brahmin to detain our slaves, and throw dirt upon our beards ?"

"Master of the faithful," answered the minister, bending humbly before the excited prince, " may it please the mighty Wallid to confide to the lowest of his slaves the reason of his present anger?"

"Dost thou not know, old man," returned the Khalif with vehemence, fixing his flashing eyes upon the speaker-" dost thou not know that my ally, the king of the flowery, spice-perfumed, and ruby isle of Serundeep,* sent rich gold, and precious gums, and maidens only less fair than the black-eyed houris of the eternal gardens, (through which the streams of life flow perpetually,) as offerings to my feet, and that Dahir, the infidel king of Sindh, has suffered his slaves to seize the rich freight, and writes letters of menace, in reply to my command that he should yield it up? Think you the Khalif Wallid, whose victorious armies plant, even now, the banner of Islam beyond the Oxus, will bear unmoved and unrevenged this insult from one of the accursed race? I tell you, no! And I swear by the holy name of the Prophet that I will hurl the infidel Dahir from his throne of Alōr, and that, from the junction of the Five Rivers to the sea, his people shall find no quarter."

"Commander of the faithful," exclaimed Bin Cassim, his noble and handsome countenance beaming with enthusiasm, "give but to me the triumph of punishing these infidels and robbers confide into my hand, great prince, but a tithe of the army of Cantibah-let my band be but

as a white spot in the skin of a black camel compared to his, and, by the beard of the prophet, I swear not only to restore to thee the red gold and fair virgins of Serundeep, but, as God is merciful, the head of the slave Dahir shall roll at thy feet, O Khalif! and the banner of Islam shall float over the blood-stained waters of the Indus, until the dogs of infidels shall shriek aloud for mercy, and none shall heed the cry, nor stay the reeking sword of Moslem vengeance, until in one voice the shout is raised, God is but one God, and Mohamed is his prophet.' Will my lord consent that I go forth ?"

The eyes of the excited Khalif were fixed upon the young chief as he proceeded, with a mingled expression of continued rage against the object of his fury and of admiration at the congenial spirit of the noble speaker; but, as Bin Cassim at length concluded with the enthusiastic burst of promised vengeance against the enemies of the Prophet and the exciting creed of Islam hope, a ray of unmixed approval illumined the dark and threatening brow of the great Wallid.

"By the tomb of the Prophet," he exclaimed, "it shall be done! Inshallah t'-Allah! the true believers shall rescue Sindh from these dogs of infidels. Go forth! Sound the tecbir, and let the shout of onset be, 'No quarter, no quarter to the enemies of Mahomed!' On the first day of the blessed Ramazan, fifteen thousand men shall gather round your standard, and thirty thousand dinars from the royal treasury shall be put into your hand. God is great. Fighting for religion is an act of obedience to the Prophet-go forth and conquer! Paradise is before you; the black-eyed girls wave their green handkerchiefs and look smilingly upon the warrior of the faith;-go, in the name of Allah! unfurl your banner, and grind the infidel Dahir to the dusthe, and all his accursed nation."

The Khalif waved his hand, and the young chief, after prostrating himself before him, left the presence with a proud and lofty bearing, and a spirit elate with the hoped-for successes of his glorious enterprise. But the young chief's way lay by the palace gardens, thickly shaded, and rich in the noble foliage of that lovely clime, and, as he glanced for a moment on the forbidden Paradise through the richlysculptured and massive gate which he knew led to the Khalif's harem, Bin Cassim saw a form which, despite the danger, suddenly arrested his proud and rapid step, and for a moment chased away even the dreams of his ambition. It was that of the Khalif's niece, his own betrothed, his beautiful Ayesha. The maiden was bending beside a glittering fountain, endeavouring to rescue from the mimic waves a Syrian passion flower which had fallen from her vest, and the lover knew that it was one which he had brought from the hermit's cave at Abyla, and had cast through the lattice but the evening before, for none such grew in the palace gardens; and the young chief, as he watched the maiden's earnest endeavours to recover the gorgeous blossom, stood entranced in admiration of the now unveiled and lovely being who was the promised rewarder of all his labours.

She was very beautiful, that sweet Ayesha! and the rich Damascene dress in which she was attired tended to display with exquisite effect the faultless symmetry of her bending and graceful figure. The loose full trowser of transparent muslin, clasped with a jewel immediately

above her little slipper, the rich symar of green brocade, fitting closely around her bust and gently falling shoulders, the rich Cashmere scarf circling her small waist, and the turban, with its rich aigrette and scattered gems, increased the natural loveliness of the fair girl, while her full dark eyes, now shaded by their soft lashes as she bent over the glittering waters of the fount, contrasted exquisitely with the hue of her delicately rounded cheek, pure in its tint as the ocean pearl.

A moment more, and Ayesha was clasped in the young warrior's arms, and the bright emblem of passionate love was soon forgotten in the delicious indulgence of its sweet reality; for now, long was the converse of the lovers beside those falling waters, and softly did Bin Cassim pour into the ear of his betrothed the proud hopes which animated his noble heart.

"But, Cassim," murmured the fair girl at length, and her voice sounded as sweet and musical as the note of the bulbul in the moonlit groves of far Shiraz, "will it not be sad to see no more, from the harem windows, the curvetting of your Arab steed, to hear no more your distant voice, to lay no more in my bosom the flowers which fall at the evening hour to my feet, as I sit at the open lattice, sweet to my heart as the love which guides them there?"

Ayesha!" returned the lover, "you are a noble Moslem maiden, and more, the descendant of the virtuous Cadijah, the first and honoured bride of the Holy Prophet of our faith. Take courage, sweet one, and feel a heroine from thy proud descent. Think of my mission, dear Ayesha;-I go forth, armed with the delegated power of the mighty Khalifate, to war against the enemies of the holy creed of Islam-to root out the horde of infidels, and make them crouch before the banner of the Crescent. I shall return, Ayesha, laden with the rich spoils of Pagan fanes, and as a conqueror of the gorgeous and barbaric East; then, as the head of his accursed enemy rolls at the feet of the mighty Khalif, I will claim my bride as a rich reward. Come, Ayesha, give me your scarf, sweet girl, and, floating beneath the banner of the Crescent, it shall urge me to deeds of arms which shall make Bin Cassim worthier Ayesha's love."

"Ah, Cassim !" replied his fair betrothed, leaning her snow-like and rounded arm fondly upon her lover's shoulder, while she turned her soft, full, tearful eyes with an expression of unutterable tenderness upon his―" but may you not forget your Moslem love? May you not, perchance, cast your arm as fondly round the slender waist of a dark-browed daughter of the infidels as you now do round that of your betrothed? May you uot cast at the feet of a newer love the fresh lotus flowers of her sunny streams, and watch the flutterings of a fair Pagan's veil as anxiously as thou hast done Ayesha's?"

"My beautiful! my bride!" exclaimed Bin Cassim, pressing his lips tenderly to the maiden's cheek, yet a soft tone of half reproach mingling with his words, "why this distrust, Ayesha ? Not less than the faith I owe to my Prophet and my prince is the love I bear to thee; but, even if it were not so, think you that I, the proud descendant of a race of Moslem heroes, and myself a warrior against the infidels, could so sully my bright sword of holy conquest as to become a slave, fet

Allah and

tered with the musk-shedding tresses of a Pagan girl? the prophet forbid, Ayesha! But how shall I swear to thee, sweet doubter? Not by the Prophet's tomb, not by the holy Kebla of our hopes, for all our Moslem oaths are weak-but by thy own loveliness, Ayesha. Next only to the holy cause of the Prophet and our religion, thou wilt be ever dearest to my heart of all things in this blooming earth. My honour and my love I hold at equal value; none dare doubt the first, then let not my sweet Ayesha fear the second; for I tell thee, dear one, and I swear to thee in the name of Allah, that the heart and soul of Bin Cassim is pledged to his fair Damascus bride. But hark!-'tis the muezzin's call from the mosque of the great Omar. Farewell, farewell, Ayesha !" and once more folding the beautiful niece of the Khalif in his arms, Bin Cassim sprang through the rich foliage, and again stood without the wall.

From the terraced roof of his splendid palace, King Dahir looked down upon his rich, populous, and flourishing city of Alor, and beyond its magnificent edifices and extensive walls, to the fertile lands and richly cultivated gardens, watered by the broad and shining waters of the noble Indus. Boats freighted with ivory and gold, spices, and rich products of the Indian looms, floated upon its bosom; groves of graceful date trees, interspersed with cool plaintains, and every shrub and flower known in this fertile spot, shaded its banks; while tall and exquisitely sculptured Hindu temples rose from among the densest foliage, and the distant sound of the sacred instruments used by the Brahmins in their worship fell pleasingly upon the listener's ear.

King Dahir looked proudly round upon these fair possessions, and as he felt that, despite the predictions of seers, and the early alarm he had once experienced from such auguries, that he was now indeed safely seated on the throne of Sindh, and the sole and acknowledged master of all this wealth and beauty, he blessed the wondrous learning and the manly grace of his Brahmin father, who, having inspired with an unconquerable passion the lovely wife of the rajah Sahee, succeeded his master on the throne of his kingdom. But, as the king thus gazed, enwrapt in contemplation upon the history of his life, he suddenly remarked that a crowd had gathered in the large area of the palace court, and, in a moment more, a mounted warrior, his horse covered with foam, his dress soiled and disordered, and his whole appearance betokening emergency and alarm, spurred through the thronging people. The king started from his seat, and a vague feeling of powerful anxiety for a moment stirred his spirits; but it subsided, as his eye glanced on the noble bastions of his strong city, and on the broad stream which flowed by its ponderous gates, while a smile passed over his fine countenance, as if in wonder at the cause of his temporary disquietude. Meanwhile the messenger had dismounted, and was summoned to the presence of the king.

"You travel speedily," observed he to his prostrate servant, “let your news be told as quickly."

"Protector of the poor," exclaimed the Arab soldier, laying his turban at the rajah's feet, and standing with folded arms reverently