XXIX. Brief breathing-time! the.turban'd host, They die; but ere their eyes could close, Avengers o'er their bodies rose; Fresh and furious, fast they fill The ranks unthinn'd, though slaughter'd still; And faint the weary Christians wax And still, all deadly aim'd and hot, every The volleys of the sulphurous shower : XXX. Darkly, sternly, and all alone,. And made the sign of a cross with a sigh, XXXI. The vaults beneath the mosaic stone gore; The carved crests, and curious hues Were smear'd and slippery—stain'd and strown You might see them piled in sable state, XXXII. The foe came on, and few remain To strive, and those must strive in vain : For lack of further lifes, to slake The thirst of vengeance now awake, The cup of consecrated gold; Massy and deep, a glittering prize, Brightly it sparkles to plunderers' eyes : That morn it held the holy wine, Converted by Christ to his blood so divine,' Which his worshippers drank at the break of day, To shrive their souls ere they join'd in the fray. Still a few drops within it lay ; And round the sacred table glow Twelve lofty lamps, in splendid row, From the purest metal cast ; A spoil—the richest, and the last. XXXIII. So near they came, the nearest stretch'd grasp the spoil he almost reach'd, When old Minotti's hand Το Touch'd with the torch the train 'Tis fired! Spire, vaults, the shrine, the spoil, the slain, In one wild roar expired! The shatter'd town-the walls thrown down- Some fell in the gulf, which received the sprinkles With a thousand circling wrinkles; Some fell on the shore, but, far away, Scatter'd o'er the isthmus lay; Christian or Moslem, which be they? More of human form or face, Deeply dinted in the clay, All blacken'd there and reeking lay. And mounted nearer to the sun, The clouds beneath him seem'd so dun; Their smoke assail'd his startled beak, And made him higher soar and shriekThus was Corinth lost and won! NOTES. Note 1. Page 266. The Turcoman hath left his herd. The life of the Turcomans is wandering and patriarchal: they dwell in tents. Coumourgi-he whose closing scene. Ali Coumourgi, the favourite of three sultans, and Grand Vizier to Achmet III., after recovering Peloponnesus from the Venetians, in one campaign, was mortally wounded in the next, against the Germans, at the battle of Peterwaradin (in the plain of Carlowitz), in Hungary, endeavouring to rally his guards. He died of his wounds next day. His last order was the decapitation of General Breuner, and some other German prisoners; and his last words, "Oh that I could thus serve all the Christian dogs!" a speech and act not unlike one of Caligula. He was a young man of great ambition and unbounded presumption: on being told that Prince Eugene, then opposed to him, "was a great general," he said "I shall become a greater, and at his expense." Note 3. Page 273. There shrinks no ebb in that tideless sea. The reader need hardly be reminded that there are no perceptible tides in the Mediterranean. Note 4. Page 274. And their white tusks crunch'd o'er the whiter skull. This spectacle I have seen, such as described, beneath the wall of the Seraglio at Constantinople, in the little cavities worn by the Bosphorus in the rock, a narrow terrace of which projects between the wall and the water. I think the fact is also mentioned in Hobhouse's Travels. The bodies were probably those of some refractory Janizaries. Note 5. Page 274. And each scalp had a single long tuft of hair. This tuft, or long lock, is left from a superstition that Mahomet will draw them into paradise by it. Note 6. Page 276. I must here acknowledge a close, though unintentional, resemblance in these twelve lines to a passage in an unpublished poem of Mr. Coleridge, called "Christabel." It was not till after these lines were written that I heard that wild and singularly original and beautiful poem recited; and the MS. of that production I never saw till very recently, by the kindness of Mr. Coleridge himself, who, I hope, is convinced that I have not been a wilful plagiarist. The original idea undoubtedly pertains to Mr Coleridge, whose poem has been composed above fourteen years. Let me conclude by a hope that he will no longer delay the publication of a production, of which I can only add my mite of approbation to the applause of far more competent judges. Note 7. Page 278. There is a light cloud by the moon. I have been told that the idea expressed from lines 598 to 603 have been admired |