Thither the vanquish'd HAFED led
His little army's last remains ;-
"Welcome, terrific glen !" he said,

"Thy gloom, that EBLIS' self might dread,
"Is Heaven to him who flies from chains!"
O'er a dark, narrow bridge-way, known

To him and to his Chiefs alone,

They cross'd the chasm and gain'd the towers,"This home," he cried, "at least is ours ;"Here we may bleed, unmock'd by hymns "Of Moslem triumph o'er our head; "Here we may fall, nor leave our limbs "To quiver to the Moslem's tread. "Stretch'd on this rock while vultures' beaks "Are whetted on our yet warm cheeks, "Here-happy that no tyrant's eye

"Gloats on our torments-we may die ! "—

'Twas night when to those towers they came,

And gloomily the fitful flame,

That from the ruin'd altar broke,

Glar'd on his features, as he spoke :

""Tis o'er-what men could do, we've done—

"If IRAN will look tamely on,

"And see her priests, her warriors driven

"Before a sensual bigot's nod,

"A wretch, who shrines his lusts in heaven,
"And makes a pander of his God;
"If her proud sons, her high-born souls,
"Men, in whose veins-oh last disgrace!
"The blood of ZAL and RUSTAM 254 rolls,-
"If they will court this upstart race,

"And turn from MITHRA's ancient ray, "To kneel at shrines of yesterday;

"If they will crouch to IRAN's foes,

"Why let them-till the land's despair "Cries out to Heaven, and bondage grows "Too vile for e'en the vile to bear! "Till shame at last, long hidden, burns "Their inmost core, and conscience turns "Each coward tear the slave lets fall "Back on his heart in drops of gall. "But here, at least, our arms unchain'd, "And souls that thraldom never stain'd ;— "This spot, at least, no foot of slave "Or satrap ever yet profan'd;

"And though but few-though fast the wave "Of life is ebbing from our veins, "Enough for vengeance still remains. "As panthers, after set of sun, "Rush from the roots of LEBANON

"Across the dark sea robber's way,2

255

"We'll bound upon our startled prey ;

"And when some hearts that proudest swell

"Have felt our falchion's last farewell;

"When Hope's expiring throb is o'er,
"And e'en despair can prompt no more,
"This spot shall be the sacred grave
"Of the last few who, vainly brave,

"Die for the land they cannot save!"

His Chiefs stood round-each shining blade

Upon the broken altar laid—

And though so wild and desolate

Those courts, where once the Mighty sate;
No longer on those mouldering towers
Was seen the feast of fruits and flowers,
With which of old the Magi fed
The wandering Spirits of their Dead;
Though neither priest nor rites were there,

256

257

Nor symbol of their worshipp'd planet; 258 Yet the same God that heard their sires Heard them, while on that altar's fires They swore 259 the latest, holiest deed Of the few hearts, still left to bleed, Should be, in IRAN's injur'd name, To die upon that Mount of FlameThe last of all her patriot line, Before her last untrampled Shrine !

Brave, suffering souls! they little knew
How many a tear their injuries drew
From one weak maid, one gentle foe,
Whom love first touch'd with others' woe-
Whose life, as free from thought as sin,
Slept like a lake, till Love threw in
His talisman, and woke the tide,
And spread its trembling circles wide.
Once, EMIR! thy unheeding child,
'Mid all this havoc, bloom'd and smil'd-
Tranquil as on some battle plain

The Persian lily shines and towers, 260
Before the combat's reddening stain.

Hath fall'n upon her golden flowers. Light-hearted maid, unaw'd, unmov'd, While Heaven but spar'd the sire she lov'd, Once at thy evening tales of blood Unlistening and aloof she stoodAnd oft, when thou hast pac'd along

Thy Haram halls with furious heat, Hast thou not curs'd her cheerful song,

That came across thee, calm and sweet,

Like lutes of angels, touch'd so near Hell's confines, that the damn'd can hear !

Far other feelings Love hath brought

Her soul all flame, her brow all sadness, She now has but the one dear thought,

And thinks that o'er, almost to madness! Oft does her sinking heart recall His words-" For my sake weep for all; And bitterly, as day on day

Of rebel carnage fast succeeds, She weeps a lover snatch'd away

In every Gheber wretch that bleeds. There's not a sabre meets her eye,

But with his life-blood seems to swim ; There's not an arrow wings the sky,

But fancy turns its point to him. No more she brings with footstep light AL HASSAN'S falchion for the fight; And had he look'd with clearer sight, Had not the mists, that ever rise From a foul spirit, dimm'd his eyes— He would have mark'd her shuddering frame, When from the field of blood he came, The faltering speech-the look estrang'dVoice, step, and life, and beauty chang'dHe would have mark'd all this, and known Such change is wrought by Love alone!

Ah! not the Love, that should have bless'd

So young, so innocent a breast ;

Not the pure, open, prosperous Love,

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