With silver bow, with belt And fur-bound bonnet of 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 practised swords Is come to join, all bravery and belief, The creed and standard of the heaven-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 dissolved his chains; — Nor feel those god-like breathings in the air, kind, - Of men to gods exalted and refined; False views, like that horizon's fair deceit, Where earth and heaven but seem, alas! to meet, Those words of sunshine, "Freedom to the World,” In virtue's cause, never was soul inspired Than his, th' enthusiast there, who kneeling, pale With pious awe, before that Silver Veil, Believes the form to which he bends his knee, Low as young Azim knelt, that motley 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, Waved, 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 "Nor think 'tis only the gross spirits, warm'd With duskier fire and for earth's medium form'd, That run this course; beings the most divine Thus deign through dark mortality to shine. Such was the essence that in Adam dwelt, To which all heaven, except the Proud One, knelt; (As a bright river that, from fall to fall In many a maze descending, bright through all, Again throughout th' assembly, at these words, Thousands of voices rung; the warriors' swords Were pointed up to heaven; a sudden wind In th' open banners play'd, and from behind Those Persian hangings, that but ill could screen The haram's loveliness, white hands were seen Waving embroider'd scarves, whose motion gave A perfume forth, like those the Houris wave, When beckoning to their bowers th' Immortal Brave. 66 "But these," pursued the Chief, are truths sublime, That claim a holier mood and calmer time Than earth allows us now; this sword must first The darkling prison-house of mankind burst, Ere peace can visit them, or truth let in Earth's shrines and thrones before our banner fall; |