Those sounds--the last, to vengeance dear.
That e'er shall ring in HAFED'S ear,--
Now reached him as aloft alone
Upon the steep way breathless thrown,
He lay beside his reeking blade,
Resigned, as if life's task were o'er,
Its last blood-offering amply paid,
And IRAN'S self could claim no more.
One only thought, one lingering beam
Now broke across his dizzy dream
Of pain and weariness--'twas she,
His heart's pure planet shining yet
Above the waste of memory
When all life's other lights were set.
And never to his mind before
Her image such enchantment wore.
It seemed as if each thought that stained,
Each fear that chilled their loves was past,
And not one cloud of earth remained
Between him and her radiance cast;--
As if to charms, before so bright,
New grace from other worlds was given.
And his soul saw her by the light
Now breaking o'er itself from heaven!
A voice spoke near him--'twas the tone
Of a loved friend, the only one
Of all his warriors left with life
From that short night's tremendous strife.--
"And must we then, my chief, die here?
"Foes round us and the Shrine so near!"
These words have roused the last remains
Of life within him:--"What! not yet
"Beyond the reach of Moslem chains!"
The thought could make even Death forget
His icy bondage:--with a bound
He springs all bleeding from the ground
And grasps his comrade's arm now grown
Even feebler, heavier than his own.
Pages:
802
803
804
805
806
807
808
809
810
811
812
813
814
815
816
817
818
819
820
821
822
823
824
825
826