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All gazing on that youth, whose coming seems
Right tow'rds MOKANNA now he cleaves his path, Impatient cleaves, as though the bolt of wrath He bears from Heaven withheld its awful burst From weaker heads, and souls but half way curst, To break o'er Him, the mightiest and the worst ! But vain his speed—though, in that hour of blood, Had all God's seraphs round MOKANNA stood, With swords of fire, ready like fate to fall, MOKANNA's soul would have defied them all ; Yet now, the rush of fugitives, too strong For human force, hurries even him along ; In vain he struggles 'mid the wedg'd array of flying thousands-he is borne away; And the sole joy his baffled spirit knows, In this forc'd fight, is-murdering as he goes ! As a grim tiger, whom the torrent's might Surprises in some parch'd ravine at night, Turns, even in drowning, on the wretched flocks, Swept with him in that snow-flood from the rocks, And, to the last, devouring on his way, Bloodies the stream he hath not power to stay.
“ Alla illa Alla ! ”—the glad shout renew“ Alla Akbar !” 122
-the Caliph's in MEROU. Hang out your gilded tapestry in the streets, And light your shrines and chant your ziraleets. 123 The Swords of God have triumph'd-on his throne
Your Caliph sits, and the Veil'd Chief hath flown.
One sole desire, one passion now remains
Fleet as the vulture speeds to flags unfurl'd,
But safe as yet that Spirit of Evil lives; With a small band of desperate fugitives, The last sole stubborn fragment, left unriven, Of the proud host that late stood fronting Heaven, He gain'd MEROU—breath'd a short curse of blood O'er his lost throne—then pass'd the Jihon's flood, 125 And gathering all, whose madness of belief Still saw a Saviour in their down-fall’n Chief, Rais'd the white banner within NEKSHEB's gates, And there, untam'd, the approaching conqu’ror waits.
Of all his Haram, all that busy hive, With music and with sweets sparkling alive, He took but one, the partner of his flight, One-not for love—not for her beauty's lightNo, ZELICA stood withering midst the gay, Wan as the blossom that fell yesterday From the’ Alma tree and dies, while overhead To-day's young flower is springing in its stead. 127 Oh, not for love—the deepest Damn'd must be Touch'd with Heaven's glory, ere such fiends as he Can feel one glimpse of Love's divinity. But no, she is his victim ; there lie all Her charms for him-charms that can never pall,
As long as hell within his heart can stir,
But other tasks now wait him-tasks that need All the deep daringness of thought and deed With which the Dives 128 have gifted him--for mark, Over yon plains, which night had else made dark, Those lanterns, countless as the winged lights That spangle INDIA's fields on showery nights, 129 — Far as their formidable gleams they shed, The mighty tents of the beleaguerer spread, Glimmering along the horizon's dusky line, And thence in nearer circles, till they shine Among the founts and groves, o'er which the town In all its arm'd magnificence looks down. Yet, fearless, from his lofty battlements MOKANNA views that multitude of tents; Nay, smiles to think that, though entoil'd, beset, Not less than myriads dare to front him yet ;That friendless, throneless, he thus stands at bay, Even thus a match for myriads such as they. “Oh, for a sweep of that dark Angel's wing,