And there, upon the mouldering tower, That dirge-note of the brave and free. They came his Chieftains at the call Of those who late o'er KERMAN's plains Of Moorish zel and tymbalon, As round the burning shrine they came; How deadly was the glare it cast, 8" The finest ornament for the horses is made of six large flying tassels of long white hair, taken out of the tails of wild oxen, that are to be found in some places of the Indies." Thevenot. As mute they paus'd before the flame To light their torches as they pass'd ! 'Twas silence all the youth had plann'd The duties of his soldier-band; And each determin'd brow declares His faithful Chieftains well know theirs. But minutes speed — night gems the skies That look from heaven, ye may behold And lay it at her trembling feet ; And now the youth, with gentle care, When that hold breaks, is dead for ever. And yet to her this sad caress Gives hope so fondly hope can err ! 'Twas joy, she thought, joy's mute excess Their happy flight's dear harbinger; 'Twas warmth assurance tenderness 'Twas any thing but leaving her. "Haste, haste!" she cried, "the clouds grow dark, "But still, ere night, we'll reach the bark; "And, by to-morrow's dawn oh bliss! "With thee upon the sunbright deep, "Far off, I'll but remember this, "As some dark vanish'd dream of sleep! "And thou " but ha! he answers not She now has reach'd that dismal spot, Where, some hours since, his voice's tone Had come to soothe her fears and ills, Sweet as the Angel ISRAFIL'S,' When every leaf on Eden's tree Is trembling to his minstrelsy Yet now-oh now, he is not nigh "HAFED! my HAFED! if it be 9 "The Angel Israfil, who has the most melodious voice of all God's creatures.' - Sale. "Thy will, thy doom this night to die, ""Till the last life-breath leave this frame. "Oh! let our lips, our cheeks be laid "But near each other while they fade; "Let us but mix our parting breaths, "And I can die ten thousand deaths! "You too, who hurry me away "So cruelly, one moment stay "Oh! stay one moment is not much "He yet may come -for him I pray No-hapless pair― you've looked your last; Your hearts should both have broken then: The dream is o'er your doom is cast You'll never meet on earth again! Alas for him, who hears her cries! Still half-way down the steep he stands, Watching with fix'd and feverish eyes By the cold moon have just consign'd To the bleak flood they leave behind; From the land side it comes, and loud --- 66 They come the Moslems come!" His proud soul mounting to his eyes, — he cries, |