So fought he back with fierce delay, But whither now? their track is lost, 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: Yet glittering up those gloomy heights, 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, And IRAN's self could claim no more. When all life's other lights were set. 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 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, his comrade's arm, now grown And grasps Ev'n feebler, heavier than his own, 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 ! "The sport of every ruffian's tread, "The mark for every coward's spear? Of the fall'n Chief, and tow'rds the flame. And fires the pile, whose sudden blaze In that last effort, ere the fires Have harm'd one glorious limb, expires! What shriek was that on OMAN's tide? It came from yonder drifting bark, That just has caught upon her side The death-light — and again is dark. It is the boat -ah, why delay'd? – Of a small veteran band, with whom But hop'd when HINDA, safe and free, Was render'd to her father's eyes, Their pardon, full and prompt, would be The ransom of so dear a prize. And proud to guard their beauteous freight, Hung dripping o'er the vessel's side, And, driving at the current's will, They rock'd along the whispering tide, |