"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? 706

Right well my largess shall repay

"His welcome speed, and weary way."

The Tartar lighted at the gate,

But scarce upheld his fainting weight: 710

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

715

Angel of Death! 'tis Hassan's cloven crest!

His calpac31 rent-his caftan red

66

Lady, a fearful bride thy Son hath wed:

"Me, not from mercy, did they spare,

"But this empurpled pledge to bear.

720

"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 scorned forbidden wine,

Or prayed with face towards the shrine,

725

730

In orisons resumed anew

At solemn sound of "Alla Hu!"33

On him shall glance for ever bright; They come their kerchiefs green they wave," And welcome with a kiss the brave!

Who falls in battle 'gainst a Giaour

Is worthiest an immortal bower.

34

745

But thou, false Infidel! shalt writhe
Beneath avenging Monkir's35 scythe;
And from its torment 'scape alone
To wander round lost Eblis'36 throne;
And fire unquenched, 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:

750

755

760

Thy victims ere they yet expire

Shall know the dæmon for their sire,

As cursing thee, thou cursing them,

765

Thy flowers are withered on the stem.
But one that for thy crime must fall,
The youngest, most beloved of all,
Shall bless thee with a father's name—
That word shall wrap thy heart in flame!
Yet must thou end thy task, and mark 771
Her cheek's last tinge, her eye's last spark,
And the last glassy glance must view

Which freezes o'er its lifeless blue;

Then with unhallowed hand shalt tear 775

The tresses of her yellow hair,

Of which in life a lock when shorn

Affection's fondest pledge was worn;