"Thy will, thy doom this night to die, ""Till the last life-breath leave this frame. "Oh! let our lips, our cheeks be laid "But near each other while they fade; "Let us but mix our parting breaths, "And I can die ten thousand deaths! "You too, who hurry me away "So cruelly, one moment stay "Oh! stay one moment is not much "He yet may come - for him I pray "HAFED! dear HAFED!" all the way In wild lamentings, that would touch hapless pair - you've looked you've looked your last; Your hearts should both have broken then: The dream is o'er your doom is cast You'll never meet on earth again ! Alas for him, who hears her cries! Still half-way down the steep he stands, Watching with fix'd and feverish eyes By the cold moon have just consign'd To the bleak flood they leave behind; From the land side it comes, and loud Rings through the chasm; as if the crowd "They come the Moslems come!" - he cries, His proud soul mounting to his eyes, "Now, Spirits of the Brave, who roam "Enfranchis'd through yon starry dome, "Rejoice for souls of kindred fire "Are on the wing to join your choir !” Together, at that cry accurst, Had from their sheaths, like sunbeams, burst. And hark!-again-again it rings; Near and more near its echoings Peal through the chasm-oh! who that then With their swords grasp'd, their eyes of flame Th' indignant shame with which they thrill To hear those shouts and yet stand still? He read their thoughts-they were his own"What! while our arms can wield these blades, "Shall we die tamely? die alone? "Without one victim to our shades, "One Moslem heart where, buried deep, "The sabre from its toil may sleep? "No God of IRAN's burning skies! "Live in the awe-struck minds of men, " "Till tyrants shudder, when their slaves "Tell of the Ghebers' bloody glen. "Follow, brave hearts! this pile remains "Our refuge still from life and chains; "But his the best, the holiest bed, "Who sinks entomb'd in Moslem dead!" Down the precipitous rocks they sprung, Wound slow, as through GOLCONDA's vale IV. Hoole upon the Story of Sinbad. I The mighty serpent, in his ire, Glides on with glittering, deadly trail. No torch the Ghebers need so well They know each mystery of the dell, So oft have, in their wanderings, Cross'd the wild race that round them dwell, The very tigers from their delves Look out, and let them pass, as things Untam'd and fearless like themselves! There was a deep ravine, that lay The many fall'n before the few. The torrents from that morning's sky And, on each side, aloft and wild, Huge cliffs and toppling crags were pil'd, The guards, with which young Freedom lines The pathways to her mountain shrines. Here, at this pass, the scanty Of IRAN's last avengers stand; band |