--
Full well his Chieftains, sworn and true
Thro' life and death, that signal knew;
For 'twas the appointed warning-blast,
The alarm to tell when hope was past
And the tremendous death-die cast!
And there upon the mouldering tower
Hath hung this sea-horn many an hour,
Ready to sound o'er land and sea
That dirge-note of the brave and free.
They came--his Chieftains at the call
Came slowly round and with them all--
Alas, how few!--the worn remains
Of those who late o'er KERMAN'S plains
When gayly prancing to the clash
Of Moorish zel and tymbalon
Catching new hope from every flash
Of their long lances in the sun,
And as their coursers charged the wind
And the white ox-tails streamed behind,[263]
Looking as if the steeds they rode
Were winged and every Chief a God!
How fallen, how altered now! how wan
Each scarred and faded visage shone,
As round the burning shrine they came;--
How deadly was the glare it cast,
As mute they paused before the flame
To light their torches as they past!
'Twas silence all--the youth hath planned
The duties of his soldier-band;
And each determined brow declares
His faithful Chieftains well know theirs.
But minutes speed--night gems the skies--
And oh, how soon, ye blessed eyes
That look from heaven ye may behold
Sights that will turn your star-fires cold!
Breathless with awe, impatience, hope,
The maiden sees the veteran group
Her litter silently prepare,
And lay it at her trembling feet;--
And now the youth with gentle care,
Hath placed her in the sheltered seat
And prest her hand--that lingering press
Of hands that for the last time sever;
Of hearts whose pulse of happiness
When that hold breaks is dead for ever.
Pages:
796
797
798
799
800
801
802
803
804
805
806
807
808
809
810
811
812
813
814
815
816
817
818
819
820