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Who thundering comes on blackest steed, As doubting to return or fly:
The rock is doubled, and the shore But in thy lineaments I trace
Shakes with the clattering tramp no more ; What time ball strengthen, not efface : The crag is won, no more is seen Theagt veang and pale, that sallow front His Christian crest and haughty mien. La cated by fiery passion's brunt;
'Twas but an instant he restrain'd Though bent on earth thine evil eye, That fiery barb so sternly reind; As neicar-like thou glidest by,
'Twas but a moment that he stood, Right well I view and deem thee one Then sped as if by death pursued; When Othman's sons should slay or shun. But in that instant o'er his soul
Winters of Memory seem'd to roll, 09-on he hasten'd, and he drew And gather in that drop of time Hy gaze of wonder as he flew :
A life of pain, an age of crime. Ibuch like a demon of the night
O’er him who loves, or hates, or fears, pa'd and vanish'd from my sight,
Such moment pours the grief of years: spect and his air impress'd
What felt he then, at once opprest trabled memory on my breast, By all that inost distracts the breast ? hand long upon my startled ear
That pause, which ponder'd o’er his fate, la: his dark courser's houfs of fear. Oh, who its dreary length shall date! bequr his steed; he nears the steep, Though in Time's record nearly nought, feat. jutting, shadows o'er the deep; It was Eternity to Thought! Le vinds around; he hurries by;
For infinite as boundless space The rock relieves him from mine eye;
The thought that Conscience must embrace, la vell I ween unwelcome he
Which in itself can comprehend hose glance is fix'd on those that flee, Woe without name, or hope, or end. And not a star but shines too bright De him who takes such timeless flight. The hour is past, the Giaour is gone ; levound along; but ere he pass'd And did he fly or fall alone ? Die glance he snatch'd, as if his last,
Woe to that hour he came or went! moment check'd his wheeling steed, The curse for Hassan's sin was sent sment breathed him from his speed, To turn a palace to a tomb : A terpent on his stirrup stoodWhy looks he o'er the olive-wood ?
He came, he went, like the Simoom,
That harbinger of fate and gloom, The crescent glimmers on the hill,
Beneath whose widely-wasting breath Mosque's high lamps are quivering The very cypress droops to death
still: Prash too remote for sound to wake
Dark tree, still sad when others' grief is
fled, thwes of the far tophaike, De Aashes of each joyous peal
The only constant mourner o'er the dead! Ar een to prove the Mostein's zeal. Tuaight, sei Rhamazani's san;
The steed is vanish'd from the stall; Tonight, the Bairam-feast's begun;
No serf is seen in Hassan's hall; light-but who and what art thou The lonely Spider's thin grey pall
foreign garb and fearful brow? Waves slowly widening o'er the wall; ked what are these to thine or thee, The Bat builds in his llaram-bower; met thou should’st either pause or' flee? And in the fortress of his power 1.9d-some dread was on his face, The Owl usurps the beacon-tower; Arve Hatred settled in its place: di page not with the reddening flush
The wild-dog howls o’er the fountain's brim,
With baffled thirst, and famine, grim; s transient Anger's darkening blush, For the stream has shrunk from its marble pale as marble o'er the tomb,
, Hiri brow was bent, his eye was glazed ; same chastly whiteness aids its gloom. Where the weeds and the desolate dust
are spread. He caused his arm, and fiercely raised, 'Twas sweet of yore to see it play Lad sternly shook his hand on high, And chase the sultriness of day,
As springing high the silver-dew The burthen ye so gently bear,
Seems one that claims your utmost car
“Thou speakest sooth, thy skisfunmo To view the waves of watery light, And waft us from the silent shore; And hear its melody by night.
Nay, leave the sail still furld, and ply And oft had llassan's Childhood play'd The nearest oar that's scatter'd by, Around the verge of that cascade;
And midway to those rocks where sleep And oft upon his mother's breast
The channel'd waters dark and deep. That sound had harmonized his rest;
Rest from your task_50— bravely done, And oft had Hassan's Youth along
Our course has been right swiftly run; Its bank been soothed by Beauty's song ; Yet 'tis the longest voyage, I trow, And softer seem'd each melting tone That one of Of Music mingled with its own. But ne'er shall Hassan's Age repose Along the brink at Twilight's close: The stream that fill'd that font is fled- Sullen it plunged, and slowly sank, The blood that warm'd his heart is shed! The calm wave rippled to the bank;
I watch'd it as it sank, methought And here no more shall human voice Be heard to rage, regret, rejoice.
Some motion from the current caught The last sad note that swell'd the gale
Bestirred it more,—'twas but the beam Was woman's wildest funeral wail : That chequered o'er the living stream: That quenched in silence, all is still, I gazed, till vanishing from view, But the lattice that flaps when the wind Like lessening pebble it withdrew;
Still less and less, a speck of white Though raves the gust, and floods the rain, That gemm’d the tide, then mock'd No hand shall close its clasp again.
sight; On desert sands 'twere joy to scan
And all its hidden secrets sleep, The rudest steps of fellow-man :
Known but to Genii of the deep, So here the very voice of Grief
Which, trembling in their coral cares, Might wake an Echo like relief- They dare not whisper to the waves. At least 'twould say, "all are not gone ; There lingers Life, though but in oneFor many a gilded chamber's there, As rising on its purple wing Which Solitude might well forbear; The insect-queen of eastern spring, Within that dome as yet Decay
O'er emerald-meadows of Kashmeer Hath slowly work'd her cankering way-Invites the young pursuer near, But gloom is gather'd o'er the gate,
And leads him on from flower to flower Nor there the Fakir's self will wait, A weary chase and wasted hour, Nor there will wandering Dervise stay, Then leaves him, as it soars on high, For Bounty cheers not his delay; With panting heart and tearful eye: Nor there will weary stranger halt So Beauty lures the full-grown child. To bless the sacred “bread and salt." With hue as bright, and wing as wild Alike must Wealth and Poverty
A chase of idle hopes and fears, Pass heedless and unheeded by,
Begun in folly, closed in tears. For Courtesy and Pity died
If won, to equal ills betray'd, With Hassan on the mountain-side. Woe waits the insect and the maid ; His roof, that refuge unto men,
A life of pain, the loss of peace, Is desolation's hungry den.
From infant's play, and man's caprice: The guest flies the hall, and the vassal The lovely toy so fiercely sought
from labour, Hath lost its charın by being caught. Since his tarban was cleft by the infidel's For every touch that wooed its stay
llath brush'd its brightest hues away. Till charm, and hue, and beauty gone,
'Tis left to fly or fall alone. I hear the sound of coming feet, With wounded wing, or bleeding breast. But not a voice mine ear to greet ;
Ah! where shall either victim rest? More near-each turban I can scan, Can this with faded pinion soar And silver-sheathed ataghan ;
From rose to tulip as before ? The foremost of the band is seen,
Or Beauty, blighted in an hour, An Emir by his garh of green :
Find joy within her broken bower? Ho! who art thou this low salam No: guyer insects fluttering by Replies of Moslem faith. I am.
Ne'er droop the wing o'er those that die.
And lovelier things have mercy shown As large, as languishingly dark, - t2 To every failing but their own,
But Soul beam'd forth in every spark
That darted from beneath the lid, i Except an erring sister's shame.
Bright as the jewel of Giamschid.
That form has nought but breathing clay,
By Alla! I would answer nay ;
Though on Al-Sirat’s arch I stood,
Which totters o'er the fiery flood,
With Paradise within my view,
And all his Houris beckoning through.
Oh! who young Leila's glance could read
And keep that portion of his creed
Which saith that woman is but dust,
A soulless toy for tyrant's lust?
On her might Muftis gaze, and own
That through her eye the Immortal shonc; so de the dark in soul expire,
On her fair cheek's unfading hue 0x live like Scorpion girt by fire;
The young pomegranate's blossoms strew writhes the mind Remorse hath riven, Their bloom in blushes ever new; l'aft før earth, andoom'd for heaven,
Her hair in hyacinthine-flow,
When left to roll its folds below,
As midst her handmaids in the hall
She stood superior to them all,
Gleam'd whiter than the mountain-sleet
Ere from the cloud that gave it birth
The cygnet nobly walks the water;
The loveliest bird of Franguestan!
Is rears her crest the ruffled Swan,
And spurns the wave with wings of pride, ihat tale can only Hassan tell :
When pass the steps of stranger man
Along the banks that bound her tide:
Thus rose fair Leila's whiter neck ;Man Rhamazan's last sun was set, Thus arm’d with beauty would she check led flashing from each minaret
Intrusion's glance, till Folly's gaze
Alas! that name was not for thee!
Stern Hassan hath a journey ta'en
With twenty vassals in his train,
Each arm’d, as best becomes a man,
With arquebuss and ataghan ;
The chief before, as deck'd for war,
Stain'd with the best of Arnaut blood,
When in the pass the rebels stood,
Of what befell in Parne's vale. wa pale Phingari's trembling light,
The pistols which his girdle bore
his jet-black steed Were those that once a pasha wore,
Which still, though gemmd and boss'd 1 by maid nor page behind hiin borc.
More true than her who left his side;
And, worse than faithless, for a Giaour!
The sun's last rays are on the hill, And now the foe their covert quit, And sparkle in the fountain-rill,
And call his vassals to submit; Whose welcome waters, cool and clear, But Hassan's frown and furious word Draw blessings from the mountaineer: Are dreaded more than hostile sword, Here may the loitering merchant Greek Nor of his little band a man Find that repose 'twere vain to seek Resign'd carbine or ataghan, In cities lodged too near his lord,
Nor raised the craven cry, Amaun! And trembling for his secret hoard - In fuller sight, more near and near, Here may he rest where none can see, The lately ambush'd foes appear, In crowds a slave, in deserts free;
And, issning from the grove, advance And with forbidden wine may stain Some who on battle-charger prance. The bowl a Moslem must not drain. Who leads them on with foreign brand,
Far flashing in his red right hand ?
“ 'Tis he! 'tis he! I know him now; The foremost Tartar's in the gap,
I know him by his pallid brow;
I know him by the evil eye Conspicuous by his yellow cap;
That aids his envious treachery ; The rest in lengthening line the while
I know him by his jet-black barb: Wind slowly through the long defile: Above, the mountain rears a peak,
Though now array'd in Arnaut garb,
Apostate from his own vile faith, Where vultures whet the thirsty beak,
It shall not save him from the death :
'Tis he! well met in any hour!
As rolls the river into ocean,
In sable torrent wildly streaming; Each side the midway-path there lay
As the sea-tide's opposing motion, Small broken crags of granite gray,
In azure column proudly gleaming, By time, or mountain-lightning, riven
Beats back the current many a rood, From summits clad in mists of heaven; In curling foam and mingling food, For where is he that hath beheld
While eddying whirl, and breaking wa The peak of Liakura unveil'd?
Roused by the blast of winter, rave;
The lightnings of the waters flash They reach the grove of pine at last:
In awful whiteness o'er the shore, “Bismillah! now the peril's past;
That shines and shakes beneath the roi For yonder view the opening plain,
Thus--as the stream and ocean greet, And there we'll prick our steeds amain:" With waves that madden as they meet The Chiaus spake, and as he said,
Thus join the bands, whom mutual wro A bullet whistled o'er his head; The foreniost Tartar bites the ground!
And fate, and fury, drive along.
The bickering sabres' shivering jar; Scarce had they time to check the rein, Swift from their steeds the riders bound;
And pealing wide or ringing near
Its echoes on the throbbing car,
The deathshot hissing from afar;
The shock, the shout, the groan of war The dying ask revenge in vain. With steel unsheath'd and carbine bent,
Reverberate along that vale,
More suited to the shepherd's tale: Some o'er their coursers' harness leant,
Though few the numbers--theirs the stri Half shelter'd by the steed;
That neither spares nor speaks for life! Some fly behind the nearest rock,
Ah! fondly youthful hearts can press, And there await the coming shock
To seize and share the dear caress;
But Love itself could never pant
For all that Beauty sighs to grant
With half the fervour Hate bestows Stern Hassan only from his horse Disdains to light, and keeps his course,
Upon the last embrace of foes,
When grappling in the fight they fold Till fiery flashes in the van
Those arins that ne'er shall lose their hol Proclaim too sure the robber-clan Have well secured the only way
Friends meet to part; Love laughs at fait Could now avail the promised prey;
True foes, once met, are join'd till deat! Then curled his very beard with ire, And glared his eye with ficrcer fire: “Though far and near the bullets hiss, With sabre shiver'd to the hilt, I've scaped a bloodier lour than this.". Yet dripping with the blood he spilt ;
Te straind within the sever'd hand But these might be from his courser's side;
Angel of Death ! 'tis Hassan's cloven crest!
Peace to the brave! whose blood is spilt: I stain op every bush that bore
Woe to the Giaour! for his the guilt." A fragment of his palampore, des breast with wounds unnumber'd riven, Hi bart to earth, his face to heaven, A turban carved in coarsest stone, Full'n Hoa lies-his unclosed eye A pillar with rank weeds o'ergrown, Yet lowering on his enemy,
Whereon can now be scarcely read vi the bear that seal'd his fate
The Koran-verse that mourns the dead, Surviving left his quenchless hate ;
Point out the spot where Hassan fell And our bim bends that foe with brow
A victim in that lonely dell. di dart as his that bled below.
There sleeps as true an Osmanlie
As ever scorn'd forbidden wine, Sex. Leila sleeps beneath the wave, Or pray'd with face towards the shrine, for his shall be a redder grave;
In orisons resumed anew boy eşirit pointed well the steel
At solemn sound of “ Alla Hu!" a taught that felon heart to feel. Yet died he by a stranger's hand, bruild the Prophet, but his power And stranger in his native land; Ha vain against the vengeful Giaour: Yet died he as in arms he stood, w call d en Alla—but the word
And unavenged, at least in blood. wanheeded or nnheard.
But him the maids of Paradise 'n Payaim fool! could Leila's prayer Impatient to their halls invite,
d. and thine accorded there? And the dark Heaven of Houri's eyes vadid my time, I leagned with these, On him shall glance for ever bright; the ritor in his turn to seize;
They come--their kerchiefs green they bath is wreak’d, the deed is done,
wave, bad ww I go—bat go alone."
And welcome with a kiss the brave!
To browzing camels' bells are tinkling:
* the dews of eve besprinkling Beneath avenging Monkir's scythe ; po padures green beneath her eye, And from its torment 'scape alone ew the planets faintly twinkling: To wander round lost Eblis' throne; Potwilight-sure his train is nigh.” And fire unqnench’d, unquenchable, The could not rest in the garden - bower, Around, within, thy heart shall dwell; be azed through the grate of his steepest Nor ear can hear nor tongue can tell tower:
The tortures of that inward hell! comes he not? his steeds are fleet, But first, on earth as Vampire sent, Son erink they from the summer-heat; Thy corse shall from its tomb be rent: in by meads not the Bridegroom his promised Then ghastly haunt thy native place, gift?
And suck the blood of all thy race; bobobeart more cold, or his barb less swift? There from thy daughter, sister, wife, A false reproach! yon Tartar now At midnight drain the stream of life; Naraind our nearest mountain's brow, Yet loathe the banquet which perforce marily the steep descends,
Must feed thy livid living corse ; la now within the valley bends; Thy victims ere they yet expire her the bears the gift at his saddle-bow- Shall know the dæmon for their sire, formald I deem his courser slow? Kleine well my largess shall repay
As cursing thee, thou cursing them,
Thy flowers are wither'd on the stem. pas selcame speed, and weary way." But one that for thy crime must fall, be Tartar lighted at the gate,
The youngest, most beloved of all, Det erance upheld his fainting weight: Shall bless thee with a father's name-Ha varthy visage spake distress,
That word shall wrap thy heart in flame! Bet this might be from weariness ; Yet must thon end thy task, and mark His garb with sanguine spots was dyed, Her cheek's last tinge, her eye's last spark,