All gazing on that youth, whose coming seems
A light, a glory, such as breaks in dreams;
And every sword, true as o'er billows dim
The needle tracks the load-star, following him!

Right tow'rds MOKANNA now he cleaves his path,
Impatient cleaves, as though the bolt of wrath
He bears from Heav'n 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 e'en 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 flight is-murdering, as he goes!
As a grim tiger, whom the torrent's might
Surprises in some parch'd ravine at night,
Turns, e'en 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 il Alla!"-the glad shout renew-
"Alla Akbar!"-the Caliph 's in MEROU.
Hang out your gilded tapestry in the streets,
And light your shrines, and chaunt your ziraleets;2
The swords of God have triumph'd-on his throne
Your Caliph sits, and the Veil'd Chief hath flown.
Who does not envy that young warrior now,
To whom the Lord of Islam bends his brow,
In all the graceful gratitude of power,
For his throne's safety in that perilous hour?
Who does not wonder, when, amidst th' acclaim
Of thousands, heralding to heaven his name-
'Mid all those holier harmonies of fame,
Which sounds along the path of virtuous souls,
Like music round a planet as it rolls!
He turns away coldly, as if some gloom
Hung o'er his heart no triumphs can illume;-
Some sightless grief, upon whose blasted gaze
Though glory's light may play, in vain it plays!
Yes, wretched AZIM! thine is such a grief,
Beyond all hope, all terror, all relief;

A dark, cold calm, which nothing now can break,
Or warm, or brighten,-like that Syrian Lake,3
Upon whose surface morn and summer shed
Their smiles in vain, for all beneath is dead!
Hearts there have been, o'er which this weight of woe
Came by long use of suffering, tame and slow;
But thine, lost youth! was sudden-over thee
It broke at once, when all seem'd ecstacy;
When Hope look'd up, and saw the gloomy Past
Melt into splendour, and Bliss dawn at last-
"Twas then, ev'n then, o'er joys so freshly blown,
This mortal blight of misery came down ;
Ey'n then, the full, warm gushings of thy heart
Were check'd-like fount-drops, frozen as they start!

And there, like them, cold, sunless relics hang,
Each fix'd and chill'd into a lasting pang!

One sole desire, one passion now remains,
To keep life's fever still within his veins,-
Vengeance !-dire vengeance on the wretch who cast
O'er him and all he lov'd that ruinous blast.
For this, when rumours reach'd him in his flight
Far, far away, after that fatal night,-
Rumours of armies, thronging to th' attack
Of the Veil'd Chief,--for this he wing'd him back,
Fleet as the vulture speeds to flags unfurl'd,
And came when all seem'd lost, and wildly hurl'd
Himself into the scale, and sav'd a world!
For this he still lives on, careless of all
The wreaths that glory on his path lets fall;
For this alone exists-like lightning-fire
To speed one bolt of vengeance, and expire!

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,'
And gathering all, whose madness of belief
Still saw a Saviour in their downfall'n Chief,
Rais'd the white banner within NEKSHEB's gates,2
And there, untam'd, th' approaching conqueror 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 light-
For 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!3
No, 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,
Or one faint trace of heaven is left in her.
To work an angel's ruin,-to behold
As white a page as Virtue e'er unroll'd
Blacken, beneath his touch, into a scroll
Of damning sins, seal'd with a burning soul-
This is his triumph; this the joy accurst,
That ranks him, among demons, all but first!
This gives the victim, that before him lies
Blighted and lost, a glory in his eyes,

A light like that with which hell-fire illumes
The ghastly, writhing wretch whom it consumes!

But other tasks now wait him-tasks that need
All the deep daringness of thought and deed
With which the Dives have gifted him-for mark,
Over yon plains, which night had else made dark,

Those lanterns, countless as the winged lights Of many a dome and fair-roof"d minaret,
That spangle India's fields on showery nights,'- As autumn suns shed round them when they set!
Far as their formidable gleams they shed,

Instant from all who saw th' illusive sign
The mighty tents of the beleagu'rer spread,

A murmur broke—“Miraculous ! divine !"
Glimmering along th' horizon's dusky line, The Gheber bow'd, thinking his idol Star
And thence in nearer circles, till they shine Had wak d, and burst impatient through the bar
Among the founts and groves, o'er which the town Of midnight, to inflame him to the war!
In all its arm'd magnificence looks down.

While he of Moussa's creed, saw, in that ray
Yet, fearless, from his lofty battlements

The glorious Light which, in his freedom's day
MOKANNA views that multitude of tents;

Had rested on the Ark,' and now again
Nay, smiles to think that, though entoil'd, beset, Shone out to bless the breaking of his chain !
Not less than myriads dare to front him yet ;-
That, friendless, throneless, he thus stands at bay,

“To victory!" is at once the cry of all —

Nor stands MOKANNA loitering at that call; E'en thus a match for myriads such as they !

But instant the huge gates are flung aside, “Oh! for a sweep of that dark angel's wing, Who brush'd the thousands of th’ Assyrian King?

And forth, like a diminutive mountain-tide To darkness in a moment, that I might

Into the boundless sea, they speed their course

Right on into the Moslem's mighty force. People Hell's chambers with yon host to-night!

The watchmen of the camp,-who, in their rounds, But come what may, let who will grasp the throne,

Had paus d and een forgot the punctual sounds Caliph or Prophet, Man alike shall groan;

Of the small drum with which they count the night! Let who will torture him, Priest—Caliph-King

To gaze upon that supernatural light,-
Alike this loathsome world of his shall ring

Now sink beneath an unexpected arm,
With victims' shrieks and howlings of the slave,-
Sounds, that shall glad me ev'n within my grave."

And in a death-groan give their last alarm.

“ On for the lamps, that light yon lofty screen, Thus to himself—but to the scanty train Still left around him, a far different strain :

Nor blunt your blades with massacre so mean; “Glorious defenders of the sacred Crown

There rests the Caliph-speed--one lucky lance I bear from Heav'n, whose light, nor blood shall drown May now achieve mankind's deliverance !" Nor shadow of earth eclipse ;-before whose gems

Desperate the die-such as they only cast,

Who venture for a world, and stake their last.
The paly pomp of this world's diadems,
The crown of GERASHID, the pillar'd throne

But Fate's no longer with him-blade for blade
Of Parviz,' and the heron crest that shone,

Springs up to meet them through the glimmering shade,

And, as the clash is heard, new legions soon
Magnificent, o'er Ali's beauteous eyes,
Fade like the stars when morn is in the skies :

Pour to the spot,—like bees of KAUZEROON

To the shrill timbrel's summons,--till, at length,
Warriors, rejoice—the port, to which we've pass'd
O'er destiny's dark wave, beams out at last!

The mighty camp swarms out in all its strength,

And back to NEKSHEB's gates, covering the plain
Victory's our own—'tis written in that Book
Upon whose leaves none but the angels look,

With random slaughter, drives the adventurous train; That Islam's sceptre shall beneath the power

Among the last of whom, the Silver Veil Of her great foe fall broken in that hour,

Is seen glittering at times, like the white sail When the moon's mighty orb, before all eyes,

Of some toss'd vessel, on a stormy night,
From Nekshee's Holy Well portentously shall rise ! Catching the tempest's momentary light!
Now turn and see !"-

And hath not this brought the proud spirit low?
They turn'd, and, as he spoke,

Nor dash'd his brow, nor check'd his daring? No.
A sudden splendour all around them broke,

Though half the wretches, whom at night he led And they beheld an orb, ample and bright,

To thrones and victory, lie disgrac'd and dead, Rise from the Holy Well, and cast its light

Yet morning hears him, with unshrinking crest, Round the rich city and the plain for miles,

Still vaunt of thrones, and victory to the rest.
Flinging such radiance o'er the gilded tiles

And they believed him!-oh, the lover may
Distrust that look which steals his soul away ;-

The babe may cease to think that it can play
1 Carreri mentions the fire-flies in India during the rainy With heaven's rainbow ;-alchymists may doubt
Beason.-See his Travels.

2. “Sennacherib, called by the orientals King of Mous- The shining gold their crucible gives out; sal."-D'Herbelot.

But Faith, fanatic Faith, once wedded fast 3 Chosroes. For the description of his Throne or Palace, To some dear falsehood, hugs it to the last. see Gibbon and D'Herbelot.

4“The crown of Gerashid is cloudy and tarnished before the heron tuft of thy turban.”-From one of the elegies or songs in praise of Ali, written in characters of gold round 1 The Shechinah, called Sakinat in the Koran. See the gallery of Abbas's tomb.-See Chardin.

Sale's Note, chap. ji. 5 "The beauty of Ali's eyes was so remarkable, that when

2 The parts of the night are made known as well by inever the Persians would describe any thing as very lovely, struments of music, as by the rounds of the watchmen with they say it is Ayn Hali, or the Eyes of Ali.”—Chardin. cries and small drums.-See Burder's Oriental Customs,

6. “Il amusa pendant deux mois le peuple de la ville de vol. ii. p. 119. Nekhscheb en faisant sortir toutes les nuits du fond d'un 3 “The Serrapurda, high screens of red cloth, stiffened puits un corps lumineux semblable à la Lune, qui portait sa with cane, used to inclose a considerable space round the lumière jusqu'à la distance de plusieurs milles."-D'Her- royal tents." —Notes on the Bahardanush. belot. Hence he was called Sazendehmah, or the Moon- 4 “From the groves of Orange trees at Kauzeroon, the maker.

bees cull a celebrated honey."--Morier's Travels.

And well th' Impostor knew all lures and arts, Like those wild birds' that by the Magians, oft, That LUCIFER e'er taught to tangle hearts ;

At festivals of fire, were sent aloft Nor, 'mid these last bold workings of his plot Into the air, with blazing faggots tied Against men's souls, is ZELICA forgot.

To their huge wings, scattering combustion wide! Ill-fated ZELICA! had reason been

All night, the groans of wretches who expire, Awake, through half the horrors thou hast seen, In agony, beneath these darts of fire, Thou never could'st have borne it-Death had come Ring through the city-while, descending o'er At once and taken thy wrung spirit home.

Its shrines and domes and streets of sycamore;But 'twas not so—a torpor, a suspense

Its lone bazaars, with their bright cloths of gold, Of thought, almost of life, came o'er th' intense Since the last peaceful pageant left unroll’d;And passionate struggles of that fearful night, Its beauteous marble baths, whose idle jets When her last hope of peace and heav'n took flight: Now gush with blood ;-and its tall minarets, And though, at times, a gleam of frenzy broke,- That late have stood up in the evening glare As through some dull volcano's veil of smoke Of the red sun, unhallow'd by a prayer ;Ominous flashings now and then will start,

O’er each, in turn, the dreadful flame-bolts fall, Which show the fire 's still busy at its heart; And death and conflagration throughout all Yet was she mostly wrapp'd in sullen gloom The desolate city hold high festival! Not such as Azim's, brooding o’er its doom,

MOKANNA sees the world is his no more;And calm without, as is the brow of death,

One sting at parting, and his grasp is o'er. While busy worms are gnawing underneath !

“What! drooping now ?”—thus, with unblushing But in a blank and pulseless torpor, free

cheek, From thought or pain, a seal'd up apathy,

He hails the few, who yet can hear him speak, Which left her oft, with scarce one living thrill, Of all those famish'd slaves, around him lying, The cold, pale victim of her torturer's will.

And by the light of blazing temples dying ; Again, as in MEROU, he had her deck'd “What! drooping now !--now, when at length we Gorgeously out, the Priestess of the sect;

press And led her glittering forth before the eyes

Home o'er the very threshold of success; Of his rude train, as to a sacrifice;

When ALLA from our ranks hath thinn'd away Pallid as she, the young, devoted Bride

Those grosser branches, that kept out his ray Of the fierce NILE, when, deck'd in all the pride

Of favour from us, and we stand at length
Of nuptial pomp, she sinks into his tide!)

Heirs of his light and children of his strength,
And while the wretched maid hung down her head, The chosen few who shall survive the fall
And stood, as one just risen from the dead,

Of kings and thrones, triumphant over all!
Amid that gazing crowd, the fiend would tell Have you then lost, weak murinurers as you are,
His credulous slaves it was some charm or spell

All faith in him, who was your Light, your Star ? Possess'd her now,—and from that darken'd trance

Have you forgot the eye of glory, hid Should dawn ere long their Faith's deliverance. Beneath this Veil, the flashing of whose lid Or if, at times, goaded by guilty shame,

Could, like a sun-stroke of the desert, wither Her soul was rous'd, and words of wildness came,

Millions of such as yonder Chief brings hither? Instant the bold blasphemer would translate Long have its lightnings slept—too long—but now Her ravings into oracles of fate,

All earth shall feel th' unveiling of this brow!
Would hail Heav'n's signals in her flashing eyes, To-night-yes, sainted men! This very night,
And call her shrieks the language of the skies ! I bid you all to a fair festal rite,
But vain at length his arts—despair is seen

Where, having deep refresh'd each weary limb

With viands such as feast Heaven's cherubim,
Gathering around; and famine comes to glean
All that the sword had left unreap'd :-in vain

And kindled up your souls, now sunk and dim,
At morn and eve across the northern plain

With that pure wine the dark-ey'd maids above He looks impatient for the promis'd spears

Keep, seald with precious musk, for those they Of the wild hordes and TARTAR mountaineers.

love,2—
They come not—while his fierce beleaguerers pour The wonders of this brow's ineffable light;

I will myself uncurtain in your sight
Engines of havoc in, unknown before,
And horrible as new;2–javelins, that fly

Then lead you forth, and with a wink disperse
Enwreath'd with smoky flames through the dark sky,

Yon myriads, howling through the universe!" And red-hot globes, that, opening as they mount, Eager they listen-while each accent darts Discharge, as from a kindled Naptha fount,

New life into their chill'd and hope-sick hearts ;Showers of a consuming fire o'er all below; Such treacherous life as the cool draught supplies Looking, as through th' illumin'd night they go, To him upon the stake, who drinks and dies !

1 "A custom still subsisting at this day, seems to me to 1 “At the great festival of fire, called the Sheb Seze, prove that the Egyptians formerly sacrificed a young virgin they used to set fire to large bunches of dry combustibles, to the god of the Nile; for they now make a statue of earth fastened round wild beasts and birds, which being then let in shape of a girl, to which they give the name of the Be- loose, the air and earth appeared one great illumination; trothed Bride, and throw it into the river."-Savary. and as these terrified creatures naturally fled to the wood

2 The Greek fire, which was occasionally lent by the for shelter, it is easy to conceive the conflagrations they Eniperors to their allies. “It was,” says Gibbon, “either produced.”- Richardson's Dissertation. launched in red-hot balls of stone and iron, or darted in 2 “The righteous shall be given to drink of pure wine, arrows and javelins, twisted round with flax and tow, which sealed; the seal whereof shall be musk.”—Koran, chap had deeply imbibed the inflammable oil."

Ixxxiii.

Wildly they point their lances to the light

Upon that mnocking Fiend, whose Veil, now rais d, Of the fast-sinking sun, and shout “to-night!"- Show'd them, as in death's agony they gaz'd, “ To-night," their Chief re-echoes, in a voice Not the long promis d light, the brow, whose beaming Of fiend-like mockery that bids hell rejoice! Was to come forth, all conquering, all redeeming; Deluded victims-never hath this earth

But features horribler than Hell e er trac'd
Seen mourning half so mournful as their mirth! On its own brood ;-no Demon of the Waste,'
Here, to the few, whose iron frames had stood No church-yard Ghole, caught lingering in the light
This racking waste of famine and of blood, Of the bless d sun, e'er blasted human sight
Faint, dying wretches clung, from whom the shout With lineaments so foul, so fierce as those
Of triumph like a maniac's laugh broke out;- Th’ Impostor now, in grinning mockery, shows.-
There, others, lighted by the smouldering fire, “There, ye wise Saints, behold your Light, your
Danc'd, like wan ghosts about a funeral pyre,

Star,-
Among the dead and dying, strew'd around ;- Ye would be dupes and victims, and ye are.
While some pale wretch look'd on, and from his wound Is it enough? or must I, while a thrill
Plucking the fiery dart by which he bled,

Lives in your sapient bosoms, cheat you still ?
In ghastly transport wav'd it o'er his head !

Swear that the burning death ye feel within,

Is but the trance with which Heav'n's joys begin; 'Twas more than midnight now-a fearful pause That this foul visage, foul as e'er disgrac'd Had follow'd the long shouts, the wild applause, Een monstrous man, is-after God's own taste; That lately from those royal gardens burst,

And that—but see !-ere I have half-way said Where the Veil'd demon held his feast accurst, My greetings through, th' uncourteous souls are fled. When ZELICA--alas, poor ruin'd heart,

Farewell, sweet spirits! not in vain ye die, In every horror doom'd to bear its part !

If Ellis loves you half so well as I.Was bidden to the banquet by a slave,

Ha, my young bride !— tis well-take thou thy seat; Who, while his quivering lip the surnmons gave, Nay come-no shuddering—didst thou never meet Grew black, as though the shadows of the grave The dead before ?—they grac'd our wedding, sweet; Compass'd him round, and, ere he could repeat And these, my guests to-night, have brimm'd so true His message through, fell lifeless at her feet!

Their parting cups, that thou shalt pledge one too. Shuddering she went—a soul-felt pang of fear, But-how is this ?-all empty ? all drunk up? A presage that her own dark doom was near, Hot lips have been before thee in the cup, Rous'd every feeling, and brought Reason back

Young bride,-yet stay-one precious drop remains, Once more, to writhe her last upon the rack.

Enough to warm a gentle Priestess' veins ;All round seem'd tranquil-e'en the foe had ceas'd, Here, drink—and should thy lover's conquering arms As if aware of that demoniac feast,

Speed hither, ere thy lip lose all its charms, His fiery bolts; and though the heavens look'd red, Give him but half this venom in thy kiss, 'Twas but some distant contlagration's spread And I ll forgive my haughty rival's bliss ! But hark !--she stops--she listens-dreadful tone! 'Tis her tormentor's laugh--and now, a groan,

“For me--I too must die--but not like these A long death-gruan comes with it--can this be Vile, rankling things, to fester in the breeze; The place of mirth, the bower of revelry ?

To have this brow in ruffian triumph shown, She enters. Holy ALLA, what a sight

With all death's grimness added to its own, Was there before her! By the glimmering light

And rot to dust beneath the taunting eyes, Of the pale dawn, mix'd with the flare of brands Of slaves, exclaiming “There his Godship lies !'That round lay burning, dropp'd from lifeless hands, No-cursed race-since first my soul drew breath, She saw the board, in splendid mockery spread,

They've been my dupes, and shall be, even in death. Rich censers athing--garlands overhead,

Thou see'st yon cistern in the shade—'tis fill'd The urns, the cups, from which they late had quaff'd, With burning drugs, for this last hour distillid; All gold and gems, but--what had been the draught? There will I plunge me, in that liquid fameOh! who need ask, that saw those livid guests,

Fit bath to lave a dying Prophet's frame! With their swoll'n heads sunk, blackening, on their There perish, all—ere pulse of thine shall failbreasts,

Nor leave one limb to tell mankind the tale. Or looking pale to Heaven with glassy glare, So shall my votaries, wheresoe'er they rave, As if they sought but saw no mercy there;

Proclaim that Heav'n took back the Saint it gave;As if they felt, though poison rack'd them through, That l’ve but vanish'd from this earth awhile, Remorse the deadlier torment of the two!

To come again, with bright, unshrouded smile!
While some, the bravest, hardiest in the train So shall they build me altars in their zeal,
Of their false Chief, who on the battle-plain

Where knaves shall minister, and fools shall kneel; Would have met death with transport by his side,

Where Faith may mutter o'er her mystic spell, Here mute and helpless gasp'd ;--but as they died,

Written in blood—and Bigotry may swell Look'd horrible vengeance with their eyes' last strain, The sail he spreads for Heaven with blasts from Hell ! And clench'd the slackening hand at him in vain.

1 "The Afghauns believe each of the numerous solitudes Dreadful it was to see the ghastly stare,

and deserts of their country, to be inhabited by a lonely The stony look of horror and despair,

demon, whom they call the Ghoolee Beeabau, or Spirit of

the Waste. They often illustrate the wildness of any seWhich some of these expiring victims cast

questered tribe, by saying, they are wild as the Demono Upon their soul's tormentor to the last ;

the Waste."- Elphinstone's Caubul.

"

a

So shall my banner, through long ages, be | MOKANNA, and alone !" they shout around;
The rallying sign of fraud and anarchy;- Young Azim from his steed springs to the ground-
Kings yet unborn shall rue MOKANNA's name, “Mine, Holy Caliph! mine," he cries, “ the task
And, though I die, my spirit, still the same,

To crush yon daring wretch— tis all I ask.”
Shall walk abroad in all the stormy strife,

Eager he darts to meet the demon foe,
And guilt, and blood, that were its bliss in life! Who still across wide heaps of ruin slow
But hark! their battering engine shakes the wall- And falteringly comes, till they are near;
Why, let it shake—thus I can brave them all : Then, with a bound, rushes on Azim's spear;
No trace of me shall greet them, when they come, And, casting off the Veil in falling, shows,
And I can trust thy faith, for-thou'lt be dumb. Oh!-'tis his ZELICA's life-blood that flows!
Now mark how readily a wretch like me,
In one bold plunge, commences Deity !"

“I meant not, Azim,” soothingly she said,

As on his trembling arm she lean'd her head, He sprung and sunk, as the last words were said- And, looking in his face, saw anguish there Quick clos’d the burning waters o er his head,

Beyond all wounds the quivering flesh can bear-And ZELICA was left-within the ring

" I meant not thou should'st have the pain of this ;Of those wide walls the only living thing;

Though death, with thee thus tasted, is a bliss The only wretched one, still curst with breath,

Thou would'st not rob me of, didst thou but know In all that frightful wilderness of death!

How oft I've pray'd to God I might die so ! More like some bloodless ghost,—such as, they tell, But the Fiend's venom was too scant and slow ;In the lone Cities of the Silent' dwell,

To linger on were maddening—and I thought And there, unseen of all but ALLA, sit

If once that Veil--nay, look not on it--caught Each by its own pale carcass, watching it. The eyes of your fierce soldiery, I should be But morn is up, and a fresh warfare stirs

Struck by a thousand death-darts instantly.

But this is sweeter-oh! believe me, yes-
Throughout the camp of the beleaguerers.
Their globes of fire, (the dread artillery, lent

I would not change this sad, but dear caress,
By GREECE to conquering MAHADI,) are spent;

This death within thy arms I would not give And now the scorpion's shaft, the quarry sent

For the most smiling life the happiest live! From high balistas, and the shielded throng

All, that stood dark and drear before the eye Of soldiers swinging the huge ram along,

Of my stray'd soul, is passing swiftly by ; All speak th' impatient Islamite's intent

A light comes o'er me, from those looks of love, To try, at length, if tower and battlement

Like the first dawn of mercy from above; And bastion'd wall be not less hard to win,

And if thy lips but tell me I'm forgiv'n, Less tough to break down than the hearts within.

Angels will echo the blest words in heaven! First in impatience and in toil is he,

But live, my Azim;-oh! to call thee mine The burning Azim--oh! could he but see

Thus once again ! my Azim-dream divine ! Th' Impostor once alive within his grasp,

Live, if thou ever lov’dst me, if to meet Not the gaunt lion's hug, nor Boa's clasp,

Thy ZELICA hereafter would be sweet, Could match the gripe of vengeance, or keep pace

Oh live to pray for her—to bend the knee With the fell heartiness of Hate's embrace!

Morning and night before that Deity,

To whom pure lips and hearts without a stain, Loud rings the pond'rous ram against the walls ;

As thine are, Azim, never breath'd in vain, Now shake the ramparts, now a buttress falls ;

And pray that he may pardon her,-may take But still no breach—“once more, one mighty swing Compassion on her soul for thy dear sake, Of all your beams, together thundering !"

And, nought remembering but her love to thee, There—the wall shakes--the shouting troops exult- Make her all thine, all His, eternally! “Quick, quick discharge your weightiest catapult

Go to those happy fields where first we twin'd Right on that spot,—and NEKSHEB is our own!"- Our youthful hearts together--every wind, 'Tis done—the battlements come crashing down, That meets thee there, fresh from the well-known And the huge wall, by that stroke riv'n in two,

flowers, Yawning, like some old crater, rent anew,

Will bring the sweetness of those innocent hours
Shows the dim, desolate city smoking through! Back to thy soul, and thou may'st feel again
But strange! no signs of life—nought living seen For thy poor ZELICA as thou did'st then.
Above, below-what can this stillness mean?

So shall thy orisons, like dew that flies
A minute's pause suspends all hearts and eyes- To heav'n upon the morning's sunshine, rise
“In through the breach,” impetuous Azim cries; With all love's earliest ardour to the skies !
But the cool Caliph, fearful of some wile

And should they—but alas ! my senses fail-
In this blank stillness, checks the troops awhile. Oh for one minute !-should thy prayers prevail-
Just then, a figure, with slow step, advanc'd

If pardon'd souls may from that World of Bliss Forth from the ruin'd walls; and, as there glanc'd Reveal their joy to those they love in this,A sunbeam over it, all eyes could see

I'll come to thee-in some sweet dream-and tell The well-known Silver Veil!_"'Tis He, 'tis He, Oh heaven-I die—dear love! farewell, farewell."

1" They have all a great reverence for burial-grounds, Time fleeted—years on years had pass'd away, which they sometimes call by the poetical name of Cities And few of those who, on that mournful day, of the Silent, and which they people with

the ghosts of the Had stood, with pity in their eyes, to see departed, who sit each at the head of his own grave, ble to mortal eyes."- Elphinstone.

The maiden's death, and the youth's agony,