XXIV. As the spring-tides, with heavy plash, From the cliffs invading dash Huge fragments, sapp'd by the ceaseless flow, On the Alpine vales below; Thus at length, outbreathed and worn, Charge of the Moslem multitude. In firmness they stood, and in masses they fell, Hand to hand, and foot to foot: Nothing there, save death, was mute; Mingle there with the volleying thunder, If with them, or for their foes; If they must mourn, or may rejoice In that annihilating voice, Which pierces the deep hills through and through With an echo dread and new: You might have heard it, on that day, O'er Salamis and Megara; (We have heard the hearers say,) Even unto Piræus bay. XXV. From the point of encountering blades to the hilt, But the rampart is won, and the spoil begun, That splash in the blood of the slippery street, There stood an old man-his hairs were white, But his veteran arm was full of might: So gallantly bore he the brunt of the fray, The dead before him, on that day, In a semicircle lay; Still he combated unwounded, From right to left his sabre swept: His wrath made many a childless foe; Buried he lay, where thousands before For thousands of years were inhumed on the shore: What of them is left, to tell Where they lie, and how they fell? Not a stone on their turf, nor a bone in their graves; But they live in the verse that immortally saves. XXVI. Hark to the Allah shout! a band Of the Mussulman bravest and best is at hand: Their leader's nervous arm is bare, Swifter to smite, and never to spare Unclothed to the shoulder it waves them on; Thus in the fight is he ever known: Others a gaudier garb may show, But none on a steel more ruddily gilt; Alp is but known by the white arm bare; Though faint beneath the mutual wound, Grappling on the gory ground. XXVII. Still the old man stood erect, 66 Never, renegado, never! Though the life of thy gift would last for ever." "Francesca!-Oh my promised bride! Must she too perish by thy pride ?" "She is safe."-"Where? where ?"-" In heaven; From whence thy traitor soul is driven Far from thee, and undefiled." Grimly then Minotti smiled, As he saw Alp staggering bow Before his words, as with a blow. "Oh God! when died she ?"—" Yesternight Nor weep I for her spirit's flight: None of my pure race shall be Slaves to Mahomet and thee Come on!"-That challenge is in vain~~ Alp's already with the slain! While Minotti's words were wreaking The sharp shot dash'd Alp to the ground; Ere an eye could view the wound That crash'd through the brain of the infidel, |