Not the long promis'd light, the brow, whose beaming
Was to come forth, all conquering, all redeeming,
But features horribler than Hell e'er trac'd

On its own brood;-no Demon of the Waste,146

No church-yard Ghole, caught lingering in the light Of the blest sun, e'er blasted human sight

With lineaments so foul, so fierce as those

The' Impostor, now in grinning mockery, shows :—

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There, ye wise Saints, behold your Light, your Star—

"Ye would be dupes and victims, and ye are.

"Is it enough? or must I, while a thrill

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Lives in your sapient bosoms, cheat you still?

"Swear that the burning death ye feel within

"Is but the trance with which Heaven's joys begin;

"That this foul visage, foul as e'er disgrac'd

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Even monstrous man, is-after God's own taste;

"And that-but see-ere I have half-way said

My greetings through, the' uncourteous souls are fled. "Farewell, sweet spirits! not in vain ye die,

If EBLIS loves you half so well as I.—

"Ha, my young bride!-'tis well-take thou thy seat; Nay come-no shuddering-didst thou never meet

"The dead before?-they grac'd our wedding, sweet;

And these, my guests to-night, have brimm'd so true "Their parting cups, that thou shalt pledge one too. "But-how is this?-all empty? all drunk up?

"Hot lips have been before thee in the cup,

Young bride,-yet stay-one precious drop remains, "Enough to warm a gentle Priestess' veins ;

“Here, drink--and should thy lover's conquering arms "Speed hither, ere thy lip lose all its charms, "Give him but half this venom in thy kiss, "And I'll forgive my haughty rival's bliss!

For me I too must die-but not like these "Vile, rankling things, to fester in the breeze; "To have this brow in ruffian triumph shown, "With all death's grimness added to its own, "And rot to dust beneath the taunting eyes "Of slaves, exclaiming, There his Godship lies!

"No-cursed race-since first my soul drew breath,

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They've been my dupes, and shall be even in death. "Thou see'st yon cistern in the shade-'tis fill'd "With burning drugs, for this last hour distill'd:147— "There will I plunge me, in that liquid flame"Fit bath to lave a dying Prophet's frame "There perish, all-ere pulse of thine shall fail"Nor leave one limb to tell mankind the tale.

"So shall my votaries, wheresoe'er they rave,

Proclaim that Heaven took back the Saint it gave;-

"That I've but vanish'd from this earth awhile,

"To come again, with bright, unshrouded smile!

"So shall they build me altars in their zeal,

"Where knaves shall minister, and fools shall kneel; "Where Faith may mutter o'er her mystic spell, "Written in blood-and Bigotry may swell

"The sail he spreads for Heaven with blasts from hell!

So shall my banner, through long ages, be

"The rallying sign of fraud and anarchy:

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Kings yet unborn shall rue MOKANNA's name,

And, though I die, my spirit, still the same,

Shall walk abroad in all the stormy strife,

And guilt, and blood, that were its bliss in life.

"But, hark! their battering engine shakes the wall"Why, let it shake-thus I can brave them all.

"No trace of me shall greet them, when they come,

And I can trust thy faith, for-thou'lt be dumb.

Now mark how readily a wretch like me,

In one bold plunge, commences Deity!"

He sprung and sunk, as the last words were saidQuick clos'd the burning waters o'er his head,

And ZELICA was left-within the ring

Of those wide walls the only living thing;

The only wretched one, still curs'd with breath,

In all that frightful wilderness of death!

More like some bloodless ghost-such as, they tell,

In the lone Cities of the Silent 148 dwell,

But morn is up, and a fresh warfare stirs Throughout the camp of the beleaguerers. Their globes of fire (the dread artillery lent By GREECE to conquering MAHADI) are spent ; And now the scorpion's shaft, the quarry sent

Q

From high balistas, and the shielding throng
Of soldiers swinging the huge ram along,
All speak the' impatient Islamite's intent
To try, at length, if tower and battlement
And bastion'd wall be not less hard to win,
Less tough to break down than the hearts within.
First in impatience and in toil is he,

The burning AZIM-oh! could he but see

The Impostor once alive within his grasp,

Not the gaunt lion's hug, nor boa's clasp,
Could match that gripe of vengeance, or keep pace
With the fell heartiness of Hate's embrace!

Loud rings the ponderous ram against the walls; Now shake the ramparts, now a buttress falls, But still no breach-"Once more, one mighty swing "Of all your beams, together thundering!"

There the wall shakes-the shouting troops exult,

Quick, quick discharge your weightiest catapult "Right on that spot, and NEKSHEB is our own!" 'Tis done the battlements come crashing down, And the huge wall, by that stroke riven in two, Yawning, like some old crater, rent anew, Shows the dim, desolate city smoking through. But strange no signs of life-nought living seen. Above, below-what can this stillness mean?