As the sea-tide's opposing motion,
In azure column proudly gleaming,
Beats back the current many a rood,
In curling foam and mingling flood,
While eddying whirl, and breaking wave,
Roused by the blast of winter, rave;
Through sparkling spray, in thundering clash,
The lightnings of the waters flash
In awful whiteness o'er the shore,
That shines and shakes beneath the roar;
Thus as the stream and ocean greet,
With waves that madden as they meet—
Thus join the bands, whom mutual wrong,
And fate, and fury, drive along.
The bickering sabres' shivering jar;
And pealing wide or ringing near
Its echoes on the throbbing ear,
The deathshot hissing from afar;
The shock, the shout, the groan of war,
Reverberate along that vale,
More suited to the shepherd's tale:
Though few the numbers-theirs the strife,
That neither spares nor speaks for life!
Ah! fondly youthful hearts can press,
To seize and share the dear caress;
But Love itself could never pant
For all that Beauty sighs to grant
With half the fervour Hate bestows
Upon the last embrace of foes,
When grappling in the fight they fold
Those arms that ne'er shall lose their hold:
Friends meet to part; Love laughs at faith; True foes, once met, are join'd till death!
With sabre shiver'd to the hilt,
Yet dripping with the blood he spilt;
Yet strain'd within the sever'd hand
Which quivers round that faithless brand;
His turban far behind him roll'd,
And cleft in twain its firmest fold;
His flowing robe by falchion torn,
And crimson as those clouds of morn
That, streak'd with dusky red, portend
The day shall have a stormy end;
A stain on every bush that bore
A fragment of his palampore, (30)
His breast with wounds unnumber'd riven,
His back to earth, his face to heaven,
Fall'n Hassan lies-his unclosed eye
Yet lowering on his enemy,
As if the hour that seal'd his fate
Surviving left his quenchless hate;
And o'er him bends that foe with brow
As dark as his that bled below.-
"Yes, Leila sleeps beneath the wave, "But his shall be a redder grave; "Her spirit pointed well the steel "Which taught that felon heart to feel. "He call'd the Prophet, but his power "Was vain against the vengeful Giaour:
"He call'd on Alla-but the word
"Arose unheeded or unheard.
"Thou Paynim fool! could Leila's prayer
"Be pass'd, and thine accorded there?
"I watch'd my time, I leagued with these,
"The traitor in his turn to seize;
"My wrath is wreak'd, the deed is done,
"And now
go-but go alone."
The browsing camels' bells are tinkling: His Mother look'd from her lattice highShe saw the dews of eve besprinkling The pasture green beneath her eye,
She saw the planets faintly twinkling: "'Tis twilight-sure his train is nigh.” She could not rest in the garden-bower,
But gazed through the grate of his steepest tower: Why comes he not? his steeds are fleet,
"Nor shrink they from the summer heat;
"Why sends not the Bridegroom his promised gift? "Is his heart more cold, or his barb less swift?
"Oh, false reproach! yon Tartar now
"Has gain'd our nearest mountain's brow,
"And warily the steep descends,
"And now within the valley bends;
"And he bears the gift at his saddle bow-
"How could I deem his courser slow?
"Right well my largess shall repay
"His welcome speed, and weary way.”
The Tartar lighted at the gate,
But scarce upheld his fainting weight:
His swarthy visage spake distress,
But this might be from weariness;
His garb with sanguine spots was dyed,
But these might be from his courser's side:
He drew the token from his vest-
Angel of Death! 't is Hassan's cloven crest!
His calpac (31) rent-his caftan red-
Lady, a fearful bride thy Son hath wed: "Me, not from mercy, did they spare, "But this empurpled pledge to bear. "Peace to the brave! whose blood is spilt: "Woe to the Giaour! for his the guilt."
A turban (32) carved in coarsest stone,
A pillar with rank weeds o'ergrown,
Whereon can now be scarcely read
The Koran verse that mourns the dead,
Point out the spot where Hassan fell
A victim in that lonely dell.
There sleeps as true an Osmanlie
As e'er at Mecca bent the knee;
As ever scorn'd forbidden wine,
Or pray'd with face towards the shrine,
In orisons resumed anew
At solemn sound of "Alla Hu!" (33)
Yet died he by a stranger's hand,
And stranger in his native land;
Yet died he as in arms he stood,
And unavenged, at least in blood.
But him the maids of Paradise
Impatient to their halls invite,
And the dark Heaven of Houris' eyes
On him shall glance for ever bright;
They come their kerchiefs green they wave, (34)
And welcome with a kiss the brave!
Who falls in battle 'gainst a Giaour
Is worthiest an immortal bower.
But thou, false Infidel! shalt writhe
Beneath avenging Monkir's (35) scythe;
And from its torment 'scape alone
To wander round lost Eblis' (36) throne;
And fire unquench'd, unquenchable,
Around, within, thy heart shall dwell;
Nor ear can hear nor tongue can tell
The tortures of that inward hell!
But first, on earth as Vampire (37) sent,
Thy corse shall from its tomb be rent:
Then ghastly haunt thy native place,
And suck the blood of all thy race;
There from thy daughter, sister, wife,
At midnight drain the stream of life;
Yet loathe the banquet which perforce
Must feed thy livid living corse:
Thy victims ere they yet expire
Shall know the demon for their sire,
As cursing thee, thou cursing them,
Thy flowers are wither'd on the stem.
But one that for thy crime must fall,
The youngest, most beloved of all,
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