But the rude litter, roughly spread
With war-cloaks, is her homely bed,
And shawl and sash, on javelins hung,
For awning o'er her head are flung.
Shuddering she look'd around there lay
A group of warriors in the sun
Resting their limbs, as for that day
Their ministry of death were done.
Some gazing on the drowsy sea,
Lost in unconscious reverie;

And some, who seem'd but ill to brook
That sluggish calm, with many a look
To the slack sail impatient cast,
As loose it flagg'd around the mast.

Blest ALLA! who shall save her now?
There's not in all that warrior-band

One Arab sword, one turban'd brow

From her own Faithful Moslem land.

Their garb the leathern belt' that wraps

2 "The Guebres are known by a dark yellow colour, which the men affect in their clothes."- Thevenot.

The Tartar fleece

Yes

- yes

her fears are all too true,

And Heav'n hath, in this dreadful hour,

Abandon'd her to HAFED's power;
HAFED, the Gheber! - at the thought
Her very heart's blood chills within;
He, whom her soul was hourly taught

To loathe, as some foul fiend of sin,
Some minister, whom Hell had sent
To spread its blast, where'er he went,
And fling, as o'er our earth he trod,

His shadow betwixt man and God!

And she is now his captive, thrown

In his fierce hands, alive, alone;

His the infuriate band she sees,
All infidels-all enemies!

What was the daring hope that then
Cross'd her like lightning, as again,
With boldness that despair had lent,

She darted through that armed crowd

A look so searching, so intent,

That ev❜n the sternest warrior bow'd

3 "The Kolah, or cap, worn by the Persians, is made of the skin of the sheep of Tartary."- Waring.

Abash'd, when he her glances caught,

As if he guess'd whose form they sought.

The vision, that before her shone

Through all the maze of blood and storm,

Is fled 'twas but a phantom form

One of those passing, rainbow dreams,

Half light, half shade, which Fancy's beams
Paint on the fleeting mists that roll

In trance or slumber round the soul!

But now the bark, with livelier bound,

Scales the blue wave- the crew's in motion ·

The oars are out, and with light sound

Break the bright mirror of the ocean, Scattering its brilliant fragments round. And now she sees with horror sees

Their course is tow'rd that mountain hold,Those towers, that make her life-blood freeze, Where MECCA's godless enemies

Lie, like beleagur'd scorpions, roll'd

In their last deadly, venomous fold!

Amid the' illumin'd land and flood
Sunless that mighty mountain stood;
Save where, above its awful head,
There shone a flaming cloud, blood-red,
As 'twere the flag of destiny

Hung out to mark where death would be!

Had her bewilder'd mind the power

Of thought in this terrific hour,

She well might marvel where or how

Man's foot could scale that mountain's brow;

Since ne'er had Arab heard or known

Of path but through the glen alone.

But every thought was lost in fear,

When, as their bounding bark drew near
The craggy base, she felt the waves

Hurry them tow'rd those dismal caves
That from the Deep in windings pass
Beneath that Mount's volcanic mass

And loud a voice on deck commands
To lower the mast and light the brands! —-
Instantly o'er the dashing tide

Within a cavern's mouth they glide,

Gloomy as that eternal Porch,

Through which departed spirits go; Not ev❜n the flare of brand and torch

Its flickering light could further throw
Than the thick flood that boil'd below.

Silent they floated as if each

Sat breathless, and too aw'd for speech
In that dark chasm, where even sound
Seem'd dark, so sullenly around
The goblin echoes of the cave
Mutter'd it o'er the long black wave,
As 'twere some secret of the grave !

But soft-they pause the current turns

Beneath them from its onward track;

Some mighty, unseen barrier spurns

The vexed tide, all foaming, back,

And scarce the oar's redoubled force

Can stem the eddy's whirling force;

When, hark! -some desperate foot has sprung Among the rocks

the chain is flung

The oars are up- the grapple clings,

And the toss'd bark in moorings swings.