For, far less luminous, his votaries said,
Were ev'n the gleams, miraculously shed

O'er MOUSSA's* cheek, when down the Mount he trod,
All glowing from the presence of his God!

On either side, with ready hearts and hands, His chosen guard of bold Believers stands; Young, fire-eyed disputants, who deem their swords, On points of faith, more eloquent than words; And such their zeal, there's not a youth with brand Uplifted there, but, at the Chief's command, Would make his own devoted heart its sheath, And bless the lips that doom'd so dear a death! In hatred to the Caliph's hue of night,† Their vesture, helms and all, is snowy white; Their weapons various;—some equipp'd, for speed, With javelins of the light Kathaian reed; Or bows of buffalo horn, and shining quivers Fill'd with the stems‡ that bloom on IRAN's rivers; While some, for war's more terrible attacks, Wield the huge mace and ponderous battle-axe, And, as they wave aloft in morning's beam The milk-white plumage of their helms, they seem

* Moses.

Black was the colour adopted by the Caliphs of the House of Abbas, in their garments, turbans, and standards. Pichula, used anciently for arrows by the Persians.

Like a chenar-tree grove, when winter throws
O'er all its tufted heads his feathering snows.

L

-

Between the porphyry pillars, that uphold The rich moresque-work of the roof of gold, Aloft the Haram's curtain'd galleries rise, Where, through the silken net-work, glancing eyes, From time to time, like sudden gleams that glow Through autumn clouds, shine o'er the pomp below.What impious tongue, ye blushing saints, would dare To hint that aught but Heav'n hath plac'd you there? Or that the loves of this light world could bind, In their gross chain, your Prophet's soaring mind? No wrongful thought! -commission'd from above To people Eden's bowers with shapes of love, (Creatures so bright, that the same lips and eyes They wear on earth will serve in Paradise;) There to recline among heav'n's native maids, And crown th' Elect with bliss that never fades!Well hath the Prophet-Chief his bidding done; And every beauteous race beneath the sun, From those who kneel at BRAHMA's burning founts,* To the fresh nymphs bounding o'er YEMEN's mounts; From PERSIA's eyes of full and fawn-like ray,

To the small, half-shut glances of KATHAY;

* The burning fountains of Brahma near Chittogong, esteemed as holy.-Turner.

And GEORGIA's bloom, and AZAB's darker smiles,
And the gold ringlets of the Western Isles;

All, all are there;- each Land its flower hath given,
To form that fair young Nursery for Heaven!

But why this pageant now? this arm'd array? What triumph crowds the rich Divan to-day With turban'd heads, of every hue and race, Bowing before that veil'd and awful face, Like tulip-beds, of different shape and dyes, Bending beneath th' invisible West-wind's sighs! What new-made mystery now, for Faith to sign, And blood to seal, as genuine and divine,What dazzling mimicry of God's own power Hath the bold Prophet plann'd to grace this hour? Not such the pageant now, though not less proud,Yon warrior youth, advancing from the crowd, With silver bow, with belt of broider'd crape, And fur-bound bonnet of Bucharian shape, So fiercely beautiful in form and eye, Like war's wild planet in a summer sky;That youth to-day,,—a proselyte, worth hordes Of cooler spirits and less practis'd swords,Is come to join, all bravery and belief,

The creed and standard of the heav'n-sent Chief.

Though few his years, the West already knows Young AZIM's fame;-beyond th' Olympian snows,

Ere manhood darken'd o'er his downy cheek,
O'erwhelm'd in fight and captive to the Greek,*
He linger'd there, till peace dissolv'd his chains;—
Oh! who could, ev'n in bondage, tread the plains
Of glorious GREECE, nor feel his spirit rise
Kindling within him? who, with heart and eyes,
Could walk where Liberty had been, nor see
The shining foot-prints of her Deity,

Nor feel those god-like breathings in the air,
Which mutely told her spirit had been there?
Not he, that youthful warrior,— no, too well
For his soul's quiet work'd the awakening spell;
And now, returning to his own dear land,

Full of those dreams of good that, vainly grand,
Haunt the young heart;-proud views of human-kind,
Of men to Gods exalted and refin'd;-

False views, like that horizon's fair deceit,

Where earth and heav'n but seem, alas, to meet!-
Soon as he heard an Arm Divine was rais'd
To right the nations, and beheld, emblaz'd
On the white flag MOKANNA's host unfurl'd,
Those words of sunshine, "Freedom to the world,”
At once his faith, his sword, his soul obeyed
Th' inspiring summons; every chosen blade,

* In the war of the Caliph Mahadi against the Empress Irene, for an account of which v. Gibbon, vol. x.

That fought beneath that banner's sacred text,
Seem'd doubly edg'd, for this world and the next;
And ne'er did Faith with her smooth bandage bind
Eyes more devoutly willing to be blind,

In virtue's cause;-never was soul inspir'd
With livelier trust in what it most desir'd,
Than his, th' enthusiast there, who kneeling, pale
With pious awe, before that silver veil,

Believes the form, to which he bends his knee,
Some pure, redeeming angel, sent to free
This fetter'd world from every bond and stain,
And bring its primal glories back again!

Low as young Azım knelt, that motly crowd Of all earth's nations sunk the knee and bow'd, With shouts of " ALLA!" echoing long and loud; While high in air, above the prophet's head, Hundreds of banners, to the sunbeam spread, Wav'd, like the wings of the white birds that fan The flying throne of star-taught SOLIMAN!

Then thus he spoke;—“ Stranger, though new the frame "Thy soul inhabits now, I've track'd its flame "For many an age*, in every chance and change "Of that existence, through whose varied range,"As through a torch-race, where, from hand to hand "The flying youth transmits their shining brand,—

• The transmigration of souls was one of his doctrines, v. D'Herbelot.