He wander'd on, along the beach, Till within the range of a carbine's reach Of the leaguer'd wall; but they saw him not, Were their hands grown stiff, or their hearts wax'd cold? There flash'd no fire, and there hiss'd no ball, As his measured step on the stone below And he saw the lean dogs beneath the wall Gorging and growling o'er carcass and limb; They were too busy to bark at him! From a Tartar's skull they had stripp'd the flesh, As ye peel the fig when its fruit is fresh ; And their white tusks crunch'd o'er the whiter skull,(4) As it slipp'd through their jaws, when their edge grew dull, As they lazily mumbled the bones of the dead, When they scarce could rise from the spot where they fed; So well had they broken a lingering fast With those who had fallen for that night's repast. And Alp knew, by the turbans that roll'd on the sand, The scalps were in the wild dog's maw, But close by the shore, on the edge of the gulf, Who had stolen from the hills, but kept away, XVII. Alp turn'd him from the sickening sight: But he better could brook to behold the dying, And Honour's eye on daring deeds! But when all is past, it is humbling to tread And see worms of the earth, and fowls of the air, All regarding man as their prey, All rejoicing in his decay. XVIII. There is a temple in ruin stands, Two or three columns, and many a stone, Out upon Time! it will leave no more Of the things to come than the things before! But enough of the past for the future to grieve O'er that which hath been, and o'er that which must be: Remnants of things that have pass'd away, XIX. He sate him down at a pillar's base, His head was drooping on his breast, And o'er his brow, so downward bent, Hurriedly, as you may see Your own run over the ivory key, By the chords you would awaken. As he heard the night-wind sigh. Was it the wind, through some hollow stone,(6) Sent that soft and tender moan? He lifted his head, and he look'd on the sea, But it was unrippled as glass may be; He look'd on the long grass-it waved not a blade; How was that gentle sound convey'd? He look'd to the banners—each flag lay still, So did the leaves on Citharon's hill, And he felt not a breath come over his cheek; He turn'd to the left-is he sure of sight? XX. He started up with more of fear The maid who might have been his bride! Where was the play of her soft lips fled? nded arm show'd white and bare: And ere yet she made reply, It was so wan, and transparent of hue, You might have seen the moon shine through. XXI. "I come from my rest to him I love best, That I may be happy, and he may be blest. I have pass'd the guards, the gate, the wall; Sought thee in safety through foes and all. "Tis said the lion will turn and flee From a maid in the pride of her purity; And the Power on high, that can shield the good Hath extended its mercy to guard me as well Never, oh never, we meet again! Thou hast done a fearful deed In falling away from thy father's creed: And to-morrow unites us no more to part." Shall be left upon the morn: But thee will I bear to a lovely spot, Where our hands shall be join'd, and our sorrow forgot. VOL. III. |