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: With sabre shiver'd to the hilt, Yet dripping with the blood he spilt; 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, 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 "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, His garb with sanguine spots was dyed, But these might be from his courser's side; “ Lady, a fearful bride thy Son hath wed: A turban (32) carved in coarsest stone, 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, At solemn sound of "Alla Hu!" (38) Yet died he by a stranger's hand, 735 And stranger in his native land; 740 And the dark Heaven of Houri's eyes They come their kerchiefs green they wave, (34) 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, But first, on earth as Vampire (37) sent, 755 Then ghastly haunt thy native place, Thy flowers are wither'd on the stem. 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; |