The foremost Tartar bites the ground!
Scarce had they time to check the rein,
Swift from their steeds the riders bound;
But three shall never mount again:
Unseen the foes that gave the wound,
The dying ask revenge in vain.
With steel unsheathed, and carbine bent,
Some o'er their courser's harness leant,
Half shelter'd by the steed;
Some fly behind the nearest rock,
And there await the coming shock,
Nor tamely stand to bleed
Beneath the shaft of foes unseen,
Who dare not quit their craggy screen.
Stern Hassan only from his horse
Disdains to light, and keeps his course,
Till fiery flashes in the van

Proclaim too sure the rohher-clan
Have well secured the only way
Could now avail the promised prey;
Then curl'd his very beard (') with ire,
And glared his eye with fiercer fire:
"Though far and near the bullets hiss,
I've scaped a bloodier hour than this."
And now the foe their covert quit,
And call his vassals to submit ;
But Hassan's frown and furious word
Are dreaded more than hostile sword,
Nor of his little band a man
Resign'd carbine or ataghan,
Nor raised the craven cry, Amaun! (')
In fuller sight, more near and near,
The lately ambush'd foes appear,
And, issuing from the grove, advance
Some who on battle-charger prance.
Who leads them on with foreign-brand,
Far flashing in his red right hand?
""Tishe! 'tis he! I know him now;
I know him by his pallid brow;

(1) A phenomenon not uncommon with an angry Mussulman. In 1809, the Capitan Pacha's whiskers at a diplomatic audience were no less lively with indignation than a tiger cat's, to the horror of all the dragomans; the portentous mustachios twisted, they stood erect of their own accord, and were expected every moment to change their colour, but at last condescended to subside, which, probably, saved more heads than they contained hairs.

I know him by the evil eye (')
That aids his envious treachery;
I know him by his jet-black barb :
Though now array'd in Arnaut garb,
Apostate from his own vile faith,
It shall not save him from the death:
'Tis he! well met in any hour,
Lost Leila's love, accursed Giaour!"

As rolls the river into ocean,
In sable torrent wildly streaming;
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 death-shot 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:

(1) The "evil eye," a common superstition in the Levant, and of which the imagı.

nary effects are yet very singular on those who conceive themselves affected.

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, (')

His breast witn 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 I go but

*

go

alone."

*

*

*

*

The browsing camels' bells are tinkling: His mother look'd from her lattice high,

() The flowered shawls, generally worn by persons of rank.

She 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! 'tis Hassan's cloven crest!
His calpac (') rent his caftan red

"Lady, a fearful bride thy Son bath 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 (2) 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.

(1) The "Calpac" is the solid cap or centre part of the head-dress; the shawl is wound round it, and forms the turban.

(2) The turban, pillar, and inscriptive verse, decorate the tombs of the Osmanlios, whether in the cemetery or the wilderness. In the mountains you frequently pass similar mementos; and on enquiry you are informed that they record some victim of rebellion, plunder, or revenge.

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

66

At solemn sound of “ Alla Hu!” (')
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,(")

But thou, false Infidel! shalt writhe
Beneath avenging Monkir's (3) scythe ;
And from its torment 'scape alone
To wander round lost Eblis' (*) 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 (*) sent,

Thy corse shall from its tomb be rent:

(1) "Alla Hu!" the concluding words of the Muezzin's call to prayer from the highest gallery on the exterior of the Minaret. On a still evening, when the Muezzin has a fine voice, which is frequently the case, the effect is solemn and beautiful beyond all the bells in Christendom.

(2) The following is part of a battle-song of the Turks : "I see- I see a darkeyed girl of Paradise, and she waves a handkerchief, a kerchief of green; and cries aloud, Come, kiss me, for I love thee,'" etc.

(3) Monkir and Nekir are the inquisitors of the dead, before whom the corpse undergoes a slight noviciate and preparatory training for damnation. If the answers are none of the clearest, he is hauled up with a scythe and thumped down with a red-hot mace till properly seasoned, with a variety of subsidiary probations. The office of these angels is no sinecure; there are but two, and the number of orthodox deceased being in a small proportion to the remainder, their hands are always full. (4) Eblis, the Oriential Prince of Darkness.

(5) The Vampire superstition is still general in the Levant. Honest Tournefort tells a long story, whice calls them. The Romaic term is "Vardoulacha." I rewhich Mr. Southey, in the notes on Thalaba, quotes, about these "Vroucolochas," collect a whole family being terrified by the scream of a child, which they imagined must proceed from such a visitation. The Greeks never mention the word without horror. I find that "Broucolokas" is an old legitimate Hellenic appellation—at least is so applied to Arsenius, who, according to the Greeks, was after his death animated by the Devil. The moderns, however, use the word I mention,