201 THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 'Tis moonlight over OMAN'S SEA;* And her blue waters sleep in smiles. And through her EMIR's porphyry halls, Of trumpet and the clash of zel, ‡ Bidding the bright-eyed sun farewell; *The Persian Gulf, sometimes so called, which separates the shores of Persia and Arabia. The present Gombaroon, a town on the Persian side of the Gulf. A Moorish instrument of music. The peaceful sun, whom better suits Or the light touch of lovers' lutes, To sing him to his golden rest. All hush'd-there's not a breeze in motion; If zephyrs come, so light they come, Nor leaf is stirr'd nor wave is driven; The wind-tower on the EMIR's dome* Ev'n he, that tyrant Arab, sleeps And falchions from unnumber'd sheaths Are starting to avenge the shame His race hath brought on IRAN's † name. "At Gombaroon and other places in Persia, they have towers for the purpose of catching the wind, and cooling the houses.". Le Bruyn. "Iran is the true general name for the empire of Persia." Asiat. Res. Disc. 5. Hard, heartless Chief, unmov'd alike Mid eyes that weep, and swords that strike;- To carnage and the Koran given, One, who will pause and kneel unshod -- In the warm blood his hand hath pour'd, To mutter o'er some text of God Engraven on his reeking sword;—* Nay, who can coolly note the line, The letter of those words divine, To which his blade, with searching art, Had sunk into its victim's heart! Just ALLA! what must be thy look, When such a wretch before thee stands Unblushing, with thy Sacred Book, Turning the leaves with blood-stain'd hands, *"On the blades of their scimitars some verse from the Koran is usually inscribed." Russel. And wresting from its page sublime His creed of lust, and hate, and crime;- Which, from the sunniest flowers that glad Draw venom forth that drives men mad.* Never did fierce ARABIA send A satrap forth more direly great; Never was IRAN doom'd to bend Beneath a yoke of deadlier weight. Her throne had fall'n-her pride was crush'd— In their own land, no more their own, To crouch beneath a stranger's throne. Her towers, where MITHRA once had burn'd, To Moslem shrines-oh shame!-were turn'd, Where slaves, converted by the sword, "There is a kind of Rhododendros about Trebizond, whose flowers the bee feeds upon, and the honey thence drives people mad."-Tournefort. Their mean, apostate worship pour'd, Yet has she hearts, mid all this ill, O'er all this wreck high buoyant still With hope and vengeance; - hearts that yet - Who sleeps in moonlight luxury there, Becalm'd in Heaven's approving ray. Sleep on-for purer eyes than thine Those waves are hush'd, those planets shine; Sleep on, and be thy rest unmov'd By the white moonbeam's dazzling power; None but the loving and the lov'd Should be awake at this sweet hour. |