And there seem'd not a pulse in her veins to dwell. Lifeless, but life-like, and awful to sight; As they seem, through the dimness, about to come down From the shadowy wall where their images frown; Fearfully flitting to and fro, As the gusts on the tapestry come and go. "If not for love of me be given Thus much, then, for the love of heaven- From off thy faithless brow, and swear A heavy doom 'tis thine to meet, That doom shall half absolve thy sin, Alp look'd to heaven, and saw on high But his heart was swollen, and turn'd aside This first false passion of his breast He sue for mercy! He dismay'd No-though that cloud were thunder's worst, And charged to crush him-let it burst! He look'd upon it earnestly, He watch'd it passing; it is flown; Nothing is there but the column stone. Hath she sunk in the earth, or melted in air? THE ASSAULT. (SIEGE OF CORINTH, Stanza 22-27.) LIGHTLY and brightly breaks away And the Noon will look on a sultry day. Hark to the trump, and the drum, And the mournful sound of the barbarous horn, And the flap of the banners, that flit as they're borne, And the neigh of the steed, and the multitude's hum, And the clash, and the shout, " They come ! they come!" The horsetails are pluck'd from the ground, and the sword From its sheath; and they form, and but wait for the word. Tartar, and Spahi, and Turcoman, Strike your tents, and throng to the van; Mount ye, spur ye, skirr the plain, That the fugitive may flee in vain, When he breaks from the town; and none escape, Aged or young, in the Christian shape; While your fellows on foot, in a fiery mass, The cannon are pointed, and ready to roar, And crush the wall they have crumbled before : Alp at their head; his right arm is bare, So is the blade of his scimitar; The khan and the pachas are all at their post; A priest at her altars, a chief in her halls, Up to the skies with that wild halloo ! "There the breach lies for passage, the ladder to scale; The rampart is won, and the spoil begun, But here and there, where 'vantage ground Fiercely stand, or fighting fall. 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, 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 More revenge in bitter speaking |