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To the slack sail impatient cast,
As loose it flagg'd around the mast.

Blest ALLA! who shall save her now?

There's not in all that warrior band
One Arab sword, one turban'd brow
From her own Faithful Moslem land.
Their garb the leathern belt* that wraps
Each yellow vest † - that rebel hue
The Tartar fleece upon their caps-

Yes

yes her fears are all too true, And Heaven hath, in this dreadful hour, Abandon'd her to HAFED's

power;

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HAFED, the Gheber!-at the thought
Her very heart's blood chills within;
He, whom her soul was hourly taught

To loathe, as some foul fiend of sin,
Some minister, whom Hell had sent
To spread its blast, where'er he went,
And fling, as o'er our earth he trod,
His shadow betwixt man and God!

And she is now his captive, thrown

In his fierce hands, alive, alone;
His the infuriate band she sees,
All infidels - all enemies!

* D'Herbelot, art. Agduani.

"The Guebres are known by a dark yellow colour, which the men affect in their clothes."-THEVENOT.

"The Kolah, or cap, worn by the Persians, is made of the skin of the sleep of Tartary."-WARING.

What was the daring hope that then
Cross'd her like light'ning, as again,
With boldness that despair had lent,

She darted through that armed crowd
A look so searching, so intent,

That ev'n the sternest warrior bow'd
Abash'd, when he her glances caught,
As if he guess'd whose form they sought.
she sees him not-'tis gone,

But no

The vision that before her shone

Through all the maze of blood and storm,

Is fled 'twas but a phantom form

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One of those pasing, rainbow dreams,

Half light, half shade, which Fancy's beams
Paint on the fleeting mists that roll

In trance or slumber round the soul.

But now the bark, with livelier bound,
Scales the blue wave

the crew's in motion,

The oars are out, and with light sound
Break the bright mirror of the ocean,
Scattering its brilliant fragments round.
And now she sees - with horror sees,

Their course is tow'rd that mountain-hold, Those towers, that make her life-blood freeze, Where MECCA's godless enemies

Lie, like beleaguer'd scorpions, roll'd In their last deadly, venomous fold! Amid the' illumin'd land and flood Sunless that mighty mountain stood;

Save where, above its awful head,

There shone a flaming cloud, blood-red,
As 't were the flag of destiny

Hung out to mark where death whould be!

Had her bewilder'd mind the power
Of thought in this terrific hour,
She well might marvel where or how
Man's foot could scale that mountain's brow,
Since ne'er had Arab heard or known
Of path but through the glen alone.-
But every thought was lost in fear,
When, as their bounding bark drew near
The craggy base, she felt the waves
Hurry them tow'rd those dismal caves,
That from the Deep in windings pass
Beneath that Mount's volcanic mass;·
And loud a voice on deck commands
To lower the mast and light the brands!
Instantly o'er the dashing tide
Within a cavern's mouth they glide,
Gloomy as that eternal Porch

Through which departed spirits go:-
Not ev'n the flare of brand and torch
Its flickering light could further throw
Than the thick flood that boil'd below.
Silent they floated ·

as if each

Sat breathless, and too aw'd for speech
In that dark chasm, where even sound

Seem'd dark, so sullenly around

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The goblin echoes of the cave
Mutter'd it o'er the long black wave,
As 'twere some secret of the grave!

But soft they pause

- the current turns

Beneath them from its onward track;
Some mighty, unseen barrier spurns

The vexed tide, all foaming, back,
And scarce the oars' redoubled force
Can stem the eddy's whirling force;

-

When, hark! - some desperate foot has sprung
Among the rocks the chain is flung -

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The oars are up- the grapple clings,
And the toss'd bark in moorings swings.
Just then, a day-beam through the shade
Broke tremulous- but, ere the maid
Can see from whence the brightness steals,
Upon her brow she shuddering feels
A viewless hand, that promptly ties
A bandage round her burning eyes;
While the rude litter where she lies,
Uplifted by the warrior throng,
O'er the steep rocks is borne along.

Blest power of sunshine! - genial Day,
What balm, what life is in thy ray!
To feel thee is such real bliss,
That had the world no joy but this,
To sit in sunshine calm and sweet,-
It were a world too exquisite

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For man to leave it for the gloom,

The deep, cold shadow of the tomb. Ev'n HINDA, though she saw not where Or whither wound the perilous road, Yet knew by that awakening air,

Which suddenly around her glow'd, That they had risen from darkness then, And breath'd the sunny world again!

But soon this balmy freshness fled

For now the steepy labyrinth led

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--

Through damp and gloom — 'mid crash of boughs, And fall of loosen'd crags, that rouse

The leopard from his hungry sleep,

Who, starting, thinks each crag a prey, And long is heard, from steep to steep, Chasing them down their thundering way! The jackal's cry- the distant moan

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Of the hyena, fierce and lone-
And that eternal saddening sound

Of torrents in the glen beneath,

As 'twere the ever-dark Profound

That rolls beneath the Bridge of Death!

All, all is fearful ev'n to see,

To gaze on those terrific things. She now but blindly hears, would be

Relief to her imaginings;

Since never yet was shape so dread,

But Fancy, thus in darkness thrown,

And by such sounds of horror fed,

Could frame more dreadful of her own.

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