Slaughter his thousand giant arms hath tossed on high,
Fell fathers, husbands, wives, beneath
his streaming steel;
Prostrate, the palaces, huge tombs of fire, lie,
While gathering overhead the vultures
scream and wheel!
Died the pale mothers, and the virgins, from their
arms,
O Caliph, fiercely torn, bewailed their
young years’ blight;
With stabs and kisses fouled, all their yet quivering
charms,
At our fleet coursers’ heels were
dragged in mocking flight.
Lo! where the city lies mantled in pall of death;
Lo! where thy mighty hand hath passed,
all things must bend!
Priests prayed, the sword estopped blaspheming breath,
Vainly their cheating book for shield
did they extend.
Some infants yet survived, and the unsated steel
Still drinks the life-blood of each whelp
of Christian-kind,
To kiss thy sandall’d foot, O King, thy people
kneel,
And golden circlets to thy victor-ankle
bind.
JOHN L. O’SULLIVAN.
("Entre deux rocs d’un noir d’ebene.")
[XXVII., November, 1828.]
Between two ebon rocks
Behold yon sombre den,
Where brambles bristle like the locks
Of wool between the horns of scapegoat
banned by men!
Remote in ruddy fog
Still hear the tiger growl
At the lion and striped dog
That prowl with rusty throats to taunt
and roar and howl;
Whilst other monsters fast
The hissing basilisk;
The hippopotamus so vast,
And the boa with waking appetite made
brisk!
The orfrey showing tongue,
The fly in stinging mood,
The elephant that crushes strong
And elastic bamboos an the scorpion’s
brood;
And the men of the trees
With their families fierce,
Till there is not one scorching breeze
But brings here its venom—its
horror to pierce—
Yet, rather there be lone,
’Mid all those horrors there,
Than hear the sickly honeyed tone
And see the swimming eyes of Noormahal
the Fair!
[Footnote 1: Noormahal (Arabic) the light of
the house; some of the Orientals deem fair hair and
complexion a beauty.]
("Murs, ville et port.")
[XXVIII., Aug. 28, 1828.]
Town, tower,
Shore,
deep,
Where lower
Cliff’s
steep;
Waves gray,
Where play
Winds gay,
All
sleep.
Hark! a sound,
Far and slight,
Breathes around
On the night
High and higher,
Nigh and nigher,
Like a fire,
Roaring, bright.
Now, on ’tis sweeping
With rattling
beat,
Like dwarf imp leaping
In gallop fleet
He flies, he prances,
In frolic fancies,
On wave-crest dances
With pattering
feet.
