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:
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

650

655

His back to earth, his face to heaven,

Fall'n Hassan lies-his unclosed eye

Yet lowering on his enemy,

670

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?

675

680

"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."

685

The browsing camels' bells are tinkling : His Mother look'd from her lattice highShe 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,

690

695

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? 700

"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

705

"How could I deem his courser slow?

66

Right well my largess shall repay

"His welcome speed, and weary way." The Tartar lighted at the gate,

But scarce upheld his fainting weight:

710

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 (31) rent—his caftan red—

“ Lady, a fearful bride thy Son hath wed:
"Me, not from mercy, did they spare,
"But this empurpled pledge to bear.
"Peace to the brave! whose blood is spilt:
"Wo to the Giaour! for his the guilt."

A turban (32) 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.

715

720

725

There sleeps as true an Osmanlie

As e'er at Mecca bent the knee;

As ever scorn'd forbidden wine,

730

Or pray'd with face towards the shrine,
In orisons resumed anew

At solemn sound of "Alla Hu!" (38)

Yet died he by a stranger's hand,

735

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,

740

And the dark Heaven of Houri's eyes
On him shall glance for ever bright;

They come their kerchiefs green they wave, (34)
And welcome with a kiss the brave!
Who falls in battle 'gainst a Giaour
Is worthiest an immortal bower.

745

But thou, false Infidel! shalt writhe Beneath avenging Monkir's (35) scythe; And from its torment 'scape alone

To wander round lost Eblis' (36) throne;

750

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 (37) sent,
Thy corse shall from its tomb be rent:

755

Then ghastly haunt thy native place,
And suck the blood of all thy race;
There from thy daughter, sister, wife,
At midnight drain the stream of life;
Yet loathe the banquet which perforce
Must feed thy livid living corse:
Thy victims ere they yet expire
Shall know the dæmon for their sire,
As cursing thee, thou cursing them,

Thy flowers are wither'd on the stem.
But one that for thy crime must fall,
The youngest, most beloved of all,
Shall bless thee with a father's name—

760

765

That word shall wrap thy heart in flame!

770

Yet must thou end thy task, and mark

Her cheek's last tinge, her eye's last spark,

Wet with thine own best blood shall drip (38)

Thy gnashing tooth and haggard lip;

Then stalking to thy sullen grave,

Go-and with Gouls and Afrits rave;