No, blame him not, if Hope awhile A tear or two, which, as he bow'd To raise the suppliant, trembling stole, First warn'd him of this dangerous cloud Of softness passing o'er his soul. Starting, he brush'd the drops away, Unworthy o'er that cheek to stray; Like one who, on the morn of fight, Shakes from his sword the dews of night, That had but dimm'd, not stain'd its light. Yet, though subdued th' unnerving thrill, Its warmth, its weakness linger'd still So touching in each look and tone, That the fond, fearing, hoping maid Half counted on the flight she pray'd, Half thought the hero's soul was grown As soft, as yielding as her own, And smil'd and bless'd him, while he said, "Yes - if there be some happier sphere, "Where fadeless truth like ours is dear; "If there be any land of rest “For those who love and ne'er forget, "Oh! comfort thee for safe and blest "We'll meet in that calm region yet!" Scarce had she time to ask her heart 7“ The shell called Siiankos, common to India, Africa, and the Mediterranean, and still used in many parts as a trumpet for blowing alarms or giving signals: it sends forth a deep and hollow sound." And there, upon the mouldering tower, That dirge-note of the brave and free. Came slowly round, and with them all- Of those who late o'er KERMAN's plains And, as their coursers charg'd the wind, As round the burning shrine they came; 8 8" The finest ornament for the horses is made of six large flying tassels of long white hair, taken out of the tails of wild oxen, that are to be found in some places of the Indies." Thevenot. As mute they paus'd before the flame To light their torches as they pass'd! 'Twas silence all the youth had plann'd The duties of his soldier-band; And each determin'd brow declares His faithful Chieftains well know theirs. But minutes speed night gems the skies — And oh how soon, ye blessed eyes, That look from heaven, ye may behold Sights that will turn your star-fires cold! The maiden sees the veteran group And lay it at her trembling feet ;- And press'd her hand — that lingering press Of hands, that for the last time sever; Of hearts, whose pulse of happiness, When that hold breaks, is dead for ever. And yet to her this sad caress Gives hope-so fondly hope can err ! 'Twas joy, she thought, joy's mute excess — Their happy flight's dear harbinger; 'Twas warmth assurance tenderness 'Twas any thing but leaving her. "Haste, haste!" she cried, "the clouds grow dark, "But still, ere night, we'll reach the bark; "And, by to-morrow's dawn- oh bliss! "With thee upon the sunbright deep, "Far off, I'll but remember this, "As some dark vanish'd dream of sleep! "And thou " but ha! he answers not Good Heav'n! - and does she go alone? She now has reach'd that dismal spot, Where, some hours since, his voice's tone Had come to soothe her fears and ills, Sweet as the Angel ISRAFIL'S," Is trembling to his minstrelsy Yet now - oh now, he is not nigh "HAFED! my HAFED! - if it be 9" The Angel Israfil, who has the most melodious voice of all God's creatures." Sale. |