"Whose baffling spells had almost driven

"Back from their course the Swords of Heaven,

"This night, with all his band, shall know

"How deep an Arab's steel can go,

"When God and Vengeance speed the blow.

"And

Prophet! - by that holy wreath "Thou wor'st on ОHOD's field of death,

"I swear, for every sob that parts

"In anguish from these heathen hearts, "A gem from PERSIA'S plunder'd mines "Shall glitter on thy Shrine of Shrines.

1

"But ha!. she sinks that look so wild

"Those livid lips my child, my child,

"This life of blood befits not thee,

"And thou must back to ARABY.

"Ne'er had I risk'd thy timid sex "In scenes that man himself might dread, "Had I not hop'd our every tread

"Would be on prostrate Persian necks —

"Curst race, they offer swords instead!

1 « Mohammed had two helmets, an interior and exterior one; the latter of which, called Al Mawashah, the fillet, wreath, or wreathed garland, he wore at the battle of Ohod." — Universal History.

"But cheer thee, maid,

the wind that now

"Is blowing o'er thy feverish brow,

"To-day shall waft thee from the shore; "And, ere a drop of this night's gore

"Have time to chill in yonder towers, "Thou❜lt see thy own sweet Arab bowers!"

His bloody boast was all too true

There lurk'd one wretch among the few
Whom HAFED's eagle eye could count

Around him on that Fiery Mount, -
One miscreant, who for gold betray'd
The path-way through the valley's shade
To those high towers where Freedom stood
In her last hold of flame and blood.
Left on the field last dreadful night,
When, sallying from their Sacred Height,
The Ghebers fought hope's farewel fight,
but died not with the brave

He lay

That sun, which should have gilt his grave,

Saw him a traitor and a slave;

And, while the few, who thence return'd

To their high rocky fortress, mourn'd
For him among the matchless dead
They left behind on glory's bed,

He liv'd, and, in the face of morn,

Laugh'd them and Faith and Heaven to scorn!

Oh for a tongue to curse the slave,
Whose treason, like a deadly blight,

Comes o'er the councils of the brave,

And blasts them in their hour of might!
May Life's unblessed cup for him

Be drugg'd with treacheries to the brim,—
With hopes, that but allure to fly,

With joys, that vanish while he sips,
Like Dead-Sea fruits, that tempt the eye,
But turn to ashes on the lips!

His country's curse, his children's shame,
Outcast of virtue, peace, and fame,
May he, at last, with lips of flame
On the parch'd desert thirsting die,—
While lakes that shone in mockery nigh
Are fading off, untouch'd, untasted,
Like the once glorious hopes he blasted!
And, when from earth his spirit flies,

Just Prophet, let the damn'd-one dwell

Full in the sight of Paradise,

Beholding heaven, and feeling hell!

LALLA ROOKH had had a dream the night before, which, in spite of the impending fate of poor HAFED, made her heart more than usually cheerful during the morning, and gave her cheeks all the freshened animation of a flower that the Bid-musk has just passed over. She fancied that she was sailing on that Eastern Ocean, where the sea-gipsies, who live for ever on the water, enjoy a perpetual summer in wandering from isle to isle, when she saw a small gilded bark approaching her. It was like one of those boats which the Maldivian islanders annually send adrift, at the mercy of winds and waves, loaded with perfumes, flowers, and odoriferous wood, as an offering to the Spirit whom they call King of the Sea. At first, this little bark appeared to be empty, but, on coming nearer

She had proceeded thus far in relating the dream to her Ladies, when FERAMORZ appeared at the door of the pavilion. In his presence, of course, every thing else was forgotten, and the continuance of the story

was instantly requested by all.

Fresh wood of aloes the violet sherbets

was set to burn in the cassolets;

were hastily handed round, and, after a short prelude on his lute, in the pathetic measure of Nava, which is always used to express the lamentations of absent lovers, the Poet thus continued: