Along the gulf, the mount, the clime; But that white veil, the lightest, frailest, In texture like a hovering shroud, 325 330 Thus high by parting Freedom spread, As from her fond abode she fled, And lingered on the spot, where long 335 Her prophet spirit spake in song. O'er withered fields, and ruined altars, And fain would wake, in souls too broken, By pointing to each glorious token. 340 But vain her voice, till better days XV. Not mindless of these mighty times Was Alp, despite his flight and crimes; The fame that could accrue to him, Who cheered the band, and waved the sword, A traitor in a turbaned horde; And led them to the lawless siege, 345 350 355 Their spirits wrapt the dusky mountain, 370 When man would do a deed of worth, He points to Greece, and turns to tread, 375 He looks to her, and rushes on Where life is lost, or freedom won. XVI. Still by the shore Alp mutely mused, And wooed the freshness Night diffused. 380 There shrinks no ebb in that tideless sea 3, Which changeless rolls eternally ; So that wildest of waves, in their angriest mood, Scarce break on the bounds of the land for a rood; And the powerless moon beholds them flow, 385 Heedless if she come or go: Calm or high, in main or bay, On their course she hath no sway, The rock unworn its base doth bare, And looks o'er the surf, but it comes not there; 390 And the fringe of the foam may be seen below, On the line that it left long ages ago: A smooth short space of yellow sand He wandered on, along the beach, 395 Till within the range of a carbine's reach Of the leaguered wall; but they saw him not, Or how could he 'scape from the hostile shot? Were their hands grown stiff, or their hearts waxed cold? I know not, in sooth; but from yonder wall 400 Though he heard the sound, and could almost tell Gorging and growling o'er carcase and limb; They were too busy to bark at him! From a Tartar's skull they had stripped the flesh, As ye peel the fig when its fruit is fresh; 414 And their white tusks crunched o'er the whiter skull, As it slipped through their jaws, when their edge grew dull, As they lazily mumbled the bones of the dead, When they scarce could rise from the spot where they fed; So well had they broken a lingering fast With those who had fallen for that night's repast. 420 And Alp knew, by the turbans that rolled on the sand, The foremost of these were the best of his band: Crimson and green were the shawls of their wear, And each scalp had a single long tuft of hair", All the rest was shaven and bare. The scalps were in the wild dog's maw, The hair was tangled round his jaw. But close by the shore, on the edge of the gulf, 425 Who had stolen from the hills, but kept away, 430 Scared by the dogs, from the human prey; |