And still she goes, at midnight hour, But watching, weeping, all was vain, The night-hawk, flitting darkly by, "Tis the eighth morn- AL HASSAN'S brow Is brighten'd with unusual joy What mighty mischief glads him now, 8 Tells not of wreck and ruin nigh, 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 "And yet thou sleep'st - up, child, and see 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, "Without whose aid the links accurst, 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,' "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 Around him on that Fiery Mount, - And, while the few, who thence return'd To their high rocky fortress, mourn'd 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, ! And blasts them in their hour of might! With joys, that vanish while he sips, His country's curse, his children's shame, On the parch'd desert thirsting die, Beholding heaven, and feeling hell! |