And still she goes, at midnight hour,
To weep alone in that high bower,
And watch, and look along the deep
For him whose smiles first made her weep,

But watching, weeping, all was vain,
She never saw his bark again.
The owlet's solitary cry,

The night-hawk, flitting darkly by,
And oft the hateful carrion-bird,
Heavily flapping his clogg'd wing,
Which reek'd with that day's banquetting
Was all she saw, was all she heard.

"Tis the eighth morn- AL HASSAN'S brow

Is brighten'd with unusual joy

What mighty mischief glads him now,
Who never smiles but to destroy?
The sparkle upon HERKEND's Sea,
When tost at midnight furiously,

8

Tells not of wreck and ruin nigh,
More surely than that smiling eye!

8 " It is observed, with respect to the Sea of Herkend, that when

it is tossed by tempestuous winds it sparkles like fire.”

two Mohammedans.

Travels of

"Up, daughter, up- the Kerna's' breath
"Has blown a blast would waken death,

"And yet thou sleep'st - up, child, and see
"This blessed day for Heaven and me,
"A day more rich in Pagan blood
"Than ever flash'd o'er QMAN'S flood.

Before another dawn shall shine,

"His head -heart limbs will all be mine;

"This very night his blood shall steep

"These hands all over ere I sleep!"

"His blood!" she faintly scream'd her mind

Still singling one from all mankind

"Yes - spite of his ravines and towers,
"HAFED, my child, this night is ours.
"Thanks to all-conquering treachery,

"Without whose aid the links accurst,
"That bind these impious slaves, would be
"Too strong for ALLA's self to burst!
"That rebel fiend, whose blade has spread

9 A kind of trumpet; - it "was that used by Tamerlane, the sound of which is described as uncommonly dreadful, and so loud as to be heard at the distance of several miles.” — Richardson.

-

"Whose baffling spells had almost driven

"Back from their course the Swords of Heaven, "This night, with all his band, shall know

"How deep an Arab's steel can go,

“When God and Vengeance speed the blow.

"And Prophet! - by that holy wreath

"Thou wor'st on ОHOD's field of death,'
"I swear, for every sob that parts
"In anguish from these heathen hearts,
"A gem from PERSIA'S plunder'd mines
"Shall glitter on thy Shrine of Shrines.

"But ha! she sinks that look so wild

"Those livid lips - my child, my child, "This life of blood befits not thee,

"And thou must back to ARABY.

"Ne'er had I risk'd thy timid sex

"In scenes that man himself might dread, "Had I not hop'd our every tread

"Would be on prostrate Persian necks —

"Curst race, they offer swords instead!

1 "Mohammed had two helmets, an interior and exterior one; the latter of which, called Al Mawashah, the fillet, wreath, or wreathed garland, he wore at the battle of Ohod." — Universal History.

"But cheer thee, maid, the wind that now

"Is blowing o'er thy feverish brow,

"To-day shall waft thee from the shore;

"And, ere a drop of this night's gore

"Have time to chill in yonder towers, "Thou'lt see thy own sweet Arab bowers!"

His bloody boast was all too true

There lurk'd one wretch among the few
Whom HAFED's eagle eye could count

Around him on that Fiery Mount, -
One miscreant, who for gold betray'd
The path-way through the valley's shade
To those high towers where Freedom stood
In her last hold of flame and blood.
Left on the field last dreadful night,
When, sallying from their Sacred Height,
The Ghebers fought hope's farewel fight,
He lay - but died not with the brave;
That sun, which should have gilt his grave,
Saw him a traitor and a slave;

And, while the few, who thence return'd

To their high rocky fortress, mourn'd
For him among the matchless dead

They left behind on glory's bed,

He liv'd, and, in the face of morn,

Laugh'd them and Faith and Heaven to scorn!

Oh for a tongue to curse the slave,
Whose treason, like a deadly blight,
Comes o'er the councils of the brave,

!

And blasts them in their hour of might!
May Life's unblessed cup for him.
Be drugg'd with treacheries to the brim, -
With hopes, that but allure to fly,

With joys, that vanish while he sips,
Like Dead-Sea fruits, that tempt the eye,
But turn to ashes on the lips!

His country's curse, his children's shame,
Outcast of virtue, peace, and fame,
May he, at last, with lips of flame

On the parch'd desert thirsting die,
While lakes that shone in mockery nigh
Are fading off, untouch'd, untasted,
Like the once glorious hopes he blasted!
And, when from earth his spirit flies,
Just Prophet, let the damn'd-one dwel
Full in the sight of Paradise,

Beholding heaven, and feeling hell!