Beyond the Caspian's Iron Gates,* Or on the snowy Mossian mountains, Her jasmine bowers and sunny fountains: His own belov'd, but blighted, sod, IS IRAN'S pride then gone for ever, Quench'd with the flame in MITHRA's caves?No-she has sons, that never — never — Will stoop to be the Moslem's slaves, While heaven has light or earth has graves; Spirits of fire, that brood not long, But flash resentment back for wrong; And hearts where, slow but deep, the seeds Till, in some treacherous hour of calm, They burst, like ZEILAN's giant palm,† * Derbend."Les Tures appellent cette ville Demir Capi, Porte de Fer; ce sont les Caspia Porta des anciens." -D'HERBELOT. † The Talpot or Talipot tree. "This beautiful palm-tree, which grows in the heart of the forests, may be classed among the loftiest trees, and becomes still higher when on the point of bursting forth from its leafy summit. The sheath which then envelopes the flower is very large, and, when it bursts, makes an explosion like the report of a cannon."-THUNberg. Whose buds fly open with a sound Yes, EMIR! he, who scal'd that tower, How safe ev'n tyrant heads may rest- Who loathe thy haughty race and thee; Yet dare the issue, blest to be Ev'n for one bleeding moment free, And die in pangs of liberty! Thou know'st them well- 'tis some moons since Thy turban'd troops and blood-red flags, Thou satrap of a bigot Prince, Have swarm'd among these Green Sea crags; Yet here, ev'n here, a sacred band Ay, in the portal of that land Thou, Arab, dar'st to call thy own, Their spears across thy path have thrown; Rebellion! foul, dishonouring word, Whose wrongful blight so oft has stain'd The holiest cause that tongue or sword Of mortal ever lost or gain'd. How many a spirit, born to bless, Hath sunk beneath that withering name, Had wafted to eternal fame! As exhalations, when they burst From the warm earth, if chill'd at first, And who is he, that wields the might Of Freedom on the Green Sea brink, The eyes of YEMEN'S warriors wink? Cling to their country's ancient rites, Their closing gleam on IRAN's heights, "When the bright cimitars make the eyes of our heroes wink."-The Moallakat, Poem of Amru. Shout but that awful name around, And palsy shakes the manliest arm. Such were the tales that won belief, And such the colouring Fancy gave To a young, warm, and dauntless Chief, One who, no more than mortal brave, * Tahmuras, and other ancient Kings of Persia; whose adventures in Fairyland among the Peris and Dives may be found in Richardson's curious Dissertation. The griffin Simoorgh, they say, took some feathers from her breast for Tahmuras, with which he adorned his helmet, and transmitted them afterwards to his descendants. Fought for the land his soul ador'd, His only spell-word, Liberty! One of that ancient hero line, Along whose glorious current shine Of sainted cedars on its banks.* "Twas not for him to crouch the knee Tamely to Moslem tyranny; "Twas not for him, whose soul was cast Whose melancholy spirit, fed With all the glories of the dead, Like shrubs beneath the poison-blast * This rivulet, says Dandini, is called the Holy River, from the "cedar-saints" among which it rises. In the Lettres Edifiantes, there is a different cause assigned for its name of Holy. "In these are deep caverns, which formerly served as so many cells for a great number of recluses, who had chosen these retreats as the only witnesses upon earth of the severity of their penance. The tears of these pious penitents gave the river of which we have just treated the name of the Holy River." — CHATEAUBRIAND's Beauties of Christianity. |