Tremendous causeway ! on they pass.
Then, hapless Ghebers, then, alas,

What hope was left for you? for you,
Whose yet warm pile of sacrifice

Is smoking in their vengeful eyes—

Whose swords how keen, how fierce they knew,

And burn with shame to find how few.

Crush'd down by that vast multitude,

Some found their graves where first they stood;
While some with hardier struggle died,

And still fought on by HAFED's side,
Who, fronting to the foe, trod back
Tow'rds the high towers his gory track;
And, as a lion, swept away

By sudden swell of JORDAN's pride
From the wild covert where he lay,

2

Long battles with th' o'erwhelming tide,

2 "In this thicket upon the banks of the Jordan several sorts of wild beasts are wont to harbour themselves, whose being washed out of the covert by the overflowings of the river gave occasion to that allusion of Jeremiah, he shall come up like a lion from the swelling of Jordan.". - Maundrell's Aleppo.

4

So fought he back with fierce delay,

And kept both foes and fate at bay.

But whither now? their track is lost,
Their prey escap'd — guide, torches gone
By torrent-beds and labyrinths crost,

The scatter'd crowd rush blindly on -
"Curse on those tardy lights that wind,"
They panting cry, "so far behind-
"Oh for a bloodhound's precious scent,
"To track the way the Gheber went!"
Vain wish confusedly along

They rush, more desperate as more wrong: Till, wilder'd by the far-off lights,

Yet glittering up those gloomy heights,

Their footing, maz'd and lost, they miss,

And down the darkling precipice

Are dash'd into the deep abyss;

Or midway hang, impal'd on rocks,

A banquet, yet alive, for flocks

Of ravening vultures, while the dell

Re-echoes with each horrible yell.

Those sounds

the last, to vengeance dear,

That e'er shall ring in HAFED's ear,
Now reach'd him, as aloft, alone,
Upon the steep way breathless thrown,
He lay beside his reeking blade,,
Resign'd, 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 seem'd as if each thought that stain'd,

Each fear that chill'd their loves was past,

And not one cloud of earth remain'd

Between him and her glory 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 lov'd 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 rous'd the last remains

66

Of life within him "what! not yet

Beyond the reach of Moslem chains !"

The thought could make ev'n Death forget
His icy bondage - with a bound

He springs, all bleeding, from the ground,
And
his comrade's arm, now grown
Ev'n feebler, heavier than his own,

grasps

And up the painful pathway leads,

Death gaining on each step he treads.

Speed them, thou God, who heard'st their vow!

They mount they bleed

oh save them now

The crags are red they've clamber'd o'er,
The rock-weed's dripping with their gore
Thy blade too, HAFED, false at length,
Now breaks beneath thy tottering strength
Haste, haste the voices of the Foe

Come near and nearer from below.

One effort more

thank Heav'n! 'tis past,

They've gain'd the topmost steep at last.
And now they touch the temple's walls,

Now HAFED sees the Fire divine

When, lo! - his weak, worn comrade falls

Dead on the threshold of the Shrine.

"Alas, brave soul, too quickly fled! "And must I leave thee withering here, "The sport of every ruffian's tread,

"The mark for every coward's spear? "No, by yon altar's sacred beams !" He cries, and, with a strength that seems Not of this world, uplifts the frame

Of the fall'n Chief, and tow'rds the flame

Bears him along;

with death-damp hand

The corpse upon the pyre he lays,

Then lights the consecrated brand,

And fires the pile, whose sudden blaze Like lightning bursts o'er OMAN's Sea. "Now, Freedom's God! I come to Thee,"

The youth exclaims, and with a smile
Of triumph vaulting on the pile,

In that last effort, ere the fires

Have harm'd one glorious limb, expires!