Seven nights have darkened OMAN'S sea,
Since last beneath the moonlight ray
She saw his light oar rapidly
Hurry her Gheber's bark away,--
And still she goes at midnight hour
To weep alone in that high bower
And watch and look along the deep
For him whose smiles first made her weep;--
But watching, weeping, all was vain,
She never saw his bark again.
The owlet's solitary cry,
The night-hawk flitting darkly by,
And oft the hateful carrion bird,
Heavily flapping his clogged wing,
Which reeked with that day's banqueting--
Was all she saw, was all she heard.
'Tis the eighth morn--AL HASSAN'S brow
Is brightened with unusual joy--
What mighty mischief glads him now,
Who never smiles but to destroy?
The sparkle upon HERKEND'S Sea,
When tost at midnight furiously,[235]
Tells not of wreck and ruin nigh,
More surely than that smiling eye!
"Up, daughter, up--the KERNA'S[236] breath
"Has blown a blast would waken death,
"And yet thou sleepest--up, child, and see
"This blessed day for heaven and me,
"A day more rich in Pagan blood
"Than ever flasht o'er OMAN'S flood.
"Before another dawn shall shine,
"His head--heart--limbs--will all be mine;
"This very night his blood shall steep
"These hands all over ere I sleep!"--
"_His_ blood!" she faintly screamed--her mind
Still singling _one_ from all mankind--
"Yes--spite of his ravines and towers,
"HAFED, my child, this night is ours.
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