"On, Swords of God!" the panting CALIPH calls, — "Thrones for the living-Heav'n for him who falls !""On, brave avengers, on," MOKANNA cries, "And EBLIS blast the recreant slave that flies!"

Now comes the brunt, the crisis of the day-
They clash- they strive-the CALIPH's troops give
way!

MOKANNA's self plucks the black Banner down,
And now the Orient World's imperial crown
Is just within his grasp when, hark, that shout!
Some hand hath check'd the flying Moslems' rout,
And now they turn they rally—at their head
A warrior, (like those angel youths, who led,
In glorious panoply of heav'n's own mail,

The Champions of the Faith through BEDER'S vale,)'
Bold as if gifted with ten thousand lives,

Turns on the fierce pursuers' blades, and drives

At once the multitudinous torrent back,

While hope and courage kindle in his track,
And, at each step, his bloody falchion makes
Terrible vistas through which victory breaks!

9 In the great victory gained by Mahomed at Beder, he was assisted, say the Mussulmans, by three thousand angels, led by Gabriel, mounted on his horse Hiazum-v. The Koran and its Commentators.

WHOSE are the gilded tents that crowd the way,
Where all was waste and silent yesterday?

This City of War which, in a few short hours,
Hath sprung up here, as if the magic powers
Of Him who, in the twinkling of a star,
Built the high pillar'd halls of CHILMINAR, '
Had conjur'd up, far as the eye can see,

This world of tents and domes and sun-bright armory!-
Princely pavilions, screen'd by, many a fold

Of crimson cloth, and topp'd with balls of gold;—
Steeds, with their housings of rich silver spun,
Their chains and poitrels glittering in the sun;
And camels, tufted o'er with Yemen's shells,
Shaking in every breeze their light-ton'd bells!

But yester-eve, so motionless around,

So mute was this wide plain, that not a sound

'The edifices of Chilminar and Balbec are supposed to have been built by the Genii, acting under the orders of Jan ben Jan, who governed the world long before the time of Adam.

But the far torrent, or the locust-bird

2

Hunting among the thickets, could be heard;-
Yet hark! what discords now, of every kind,

Shouts, laughs, and screams are revelling in the wind!
The neigh of cavalry;—the tinkling throngs
Of laden camels and their drivers' songs ;-
Ringing of arms, and flapping in the breeze
Of streamers from ten thousand canopies;
War-music, bursting out from time to time
With gong and tymbalon's tremendous chime; -
Or, in the pause, when harsher sounds are mute,
The mellow breathings of some horn or flute,
That far off, broken by the eagle note
Of the' Abyssinian trumpet 3, swell and float!

Who leads this mighty army?-ask ye And mark ye not those banners of dark hue,

“who?”

↑ A native of Khorassan, and allured southward by means of the water of a fountain between Shiraz and Ispahan, called the Fountain of Birds, of which it is so fond that it will follow wherever that water is carried.

3 "This trumpet is often called in Abyssinia, nesser cano, which signifies the Note of the Eagle. Note of Bruce's editor.

In vain MOKANNA, midst the general flight,
Stands, like the red moon, on some stormy night,
Among the fugitive clouds that, hurrying by,
Leave only her unshaken in the sky!-
In vain he yells his desperate curses out,
Deals death promiscuously to all about,
To foes that charge and coward friends that fly,
And seems of all the Great Arch-enemy!
The panic spreads" a miracle!" throughout
The Moslem ranks, "a miracle !" they shout,
All gazing on that youth, whose coming seems
A light, a glory, such as breaks in dreams;
And every sword, true as o'er billows dim
The needle tracks the load-star, following him!

Right tow'rds MOKANNA now he cleaves his path, Impatient cleaves, as though the bolt of wrath He bears from Heav'n withheld its awful burst From weaker heads, and souls but half-way curst, To break o'er Him, the mightiest and the worst! `But vain his speed—though, in that hour of blood, Had all God's seraphs round MOKANNA stood,

With swords of fire, ready like fate to fall,

MOKANNA'S Soul would have defied them all;

Yet now, the rush of fugitives, too strong
For human force, hurries ev'n him along;
In vain he struggles 'mid the wedg'd array
Of flying thousands, - he is borne away;
And the sole joy his baffled spirit knows
In this forc'd flight is—murdering, as he goes!
As a grim tiger, whom the torrent's might
Surprizes in some parch'd ravine at night,

Turns, ev❜n in drowning, on the wretched flocks
Swept with him in that snow-flood from the rocks,
And, to the last, devouring on his way,

Bloodies the stream he hath not power to stay!

"Alla illa Alla !" the glad shout renew"Alla Akbar!"-the Caliph's in MEROU. Hang out your gilded tapestry in the streets, And light your shrines and chaunt your ziraleets;' The Swords of God have triumph'd on his throne

Your Caliph sits, and the Veil'd Chief hath flown.

Who does not envy that

young warrior now,

To whom the Lord of Islam bends his brow,

1

I The Tecbir, or cry of the Arabs. "Alla Acbar!" says Ockley,

means God is most mighty."

2 The ziraleet is a kind of chorus, which the women of the East

sing upon joyful occasions. Russel.