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 Again I say that turban tear From off thy faithless brow, and swear If this thou dost accord, albeit A heavy doom 't is thine to meet, 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 Roll'd like a torrent o'er the rest. He sue for mercy! He dismay'd By wild words of a timid maid! He, wrong'd by Venice, vow to save Her sons, devoted to the grave! No - though that cloud were thunder's worst, He look'd upon it earnestly, He watch'd it passing; it is flown; Full on his eye the clear moon shone, I am no changeling — 't is too late: The reed in storms may bow and quiver, Her foe in all, save love to thee: But thou art safe: oh, fly with me!" Nothing is there but the column stone. Hath she sunk in the earth, or melted in air? He saw not he knew not but nothing is there. THE ASSAULT. (SIEGE OF CORINTH, Stanzas 22-27.) LIGHTLY and brightly breaks away The Morning from her mantle gray, And the Noon will look on a sultry day. Hark to the trump, and the drum, And the mournful sound of the barbarous horn, From its sheath; and they form, and but wait for the word. 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, Alp at their head; his right arm is bare, The khan and the pachas are all at their post; When the culverin's signal is fired, then on; A priest at her altars, a chief in her halls, A hearth in her mansions, a stone on her walls. Up to the skies with that wild halloo ! "There the breach lies for passage, the ladder to scale; And your hands on your sabres, and how should ye fail? He who first downs with the red cross may crave His heart's dearest wish; let him ask it, and have!" * The rampart is won, and the spoil begun, Make a pause, and turn again — 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 forever." "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 |