The Complete Poems of Sir Thomas Moore
Chapter 155 : For vengeance on the accursed Saracen; Vengeance at last for their dear country spurne

For vengeance on the accursed Saracen; Vengeance at last for their dear country spurned, Her throne usurpt, and her bright shrines o'erturned.

From YEZD'S eternal Mansion of the Fire[107]

Where aged saints in dreams of Heaven expire: From BADKU and those fountains of blue flame That burn into the CASPIAN, fierce they came,[108]

Careless for what or whom the blow was sped, So vengeance triumpht and their tyrants bled.

Such was the wild and miscellaneous host That high in air their motley banners tost Around the Prophet-Chief--all eyes still bent Upon that glittering Veil, where'er it went, That beacon thro' the battle's stormy flood, That rainbow of the field whose showers were blood!

Twice hath the sun upon their conflict set And risen again and found them grappling yet; While streams of carnage in his noontide blaze, Smoke up to Heaven--hot as that crimson haze By which the prostrate Caravan is awed[109]

In the red Desert when the wind's abroad.

"Oh, Swords of G.o.d!" the panting CALIPH calls,-- "Thrones for the living--Heaven for him who falls!"-- "On, brave avengers, on," MOKANNA cries, "And EBLIS blast the recreant slave that flies!"

Now comes the brunt, the crisis of the day-- They clash--they strive--the CALIPH'S troops give way!

MOKANNA'S self plucks the black Banner down, And now the Orient World's Imperial crown Is just within his grasp--when, hark, that shout!

Some hand hath checkt the flying Moslem's rout; And now they turn, they rally--at their head A warrior, (like those angel youths who led, In glorious panoply of Heaven's own mail, The Champions of the Faith thro BEDER'S vale,)[110]

Bold as if gifted with ten thousand lives, Turns on the fierce pursuers' blades, and drives At once the mult.i.tudinous torrent back-- While hope and courage kindle in his track; And at each step his b.l.o.o.d.y falchion makes Terrible vistas thro' which victory breaks!

In vain MOKANNA, midst the general flight, Stands like the red moon on some stormy night Among the fugitive clouds that hurrying by Leave only her unshaken in the sky-- In vain he yells his desperate curses out, Deals death promiscuously to all about, To foes that charge and coward friends that fly, And seems of _all_ the Great Archenemy.

The panic spreads--"A miracle!" throughout The Moslem ranks, "a miracle!" they shout, All gazing on that youth whose coming seems A light, a glory, such as breaks in dreams; And every sword, true as o'er billows dim The needle tracks the lode-star, following him!

Right towards MOKANNA now he cleaves his path, Impatient cleaves as tho' the bolt of wrath He bears from Heaven withheld its awful burst From weaker heads and souls but half way curst, To break o'er Him, the mightiest and the worst!

But vain his speed--tho', in that hour of blood, Had all G.o.d's seraphs round MOKANNA stood With swords o'fire ready like fate to fall, MOKANNA'S soul would have defied them all; Yet now, the rush of fugitives, too strong For human force, hurries even _him_ along; In vain he struggles mid the wedged array Of flying thousands--he is borne away; And the sole joy his baffled spirit knows, In this forced flight, is--murdering as he goes!

As a grim tiger whom the torrent's might Surprises in some parched ravine at night, Turns even in drowning on the wretched flocks Swept with him in that snow-flood from the rocks, And, to the last, devouring on his way, Bloodies the stream lie hath not power to stay.

"Alla illa Alla!"--the glad shout renew-- "Alla Akbar"--the Caliph's in MEROU.[111]

Hang out your gilded tapestry in the streets, And light your shrines and chant your ziraleets.[112]

The swords of G.o.d have triumpht--on his throne Your Caliph sits and the veiled Chief hath flown.

Who does not envy that young warrior now To whom the Lord of Islam bends his brow, In all the graceful grat.i.tude of power, For his throne's safety in that perilous hour?

Who doth not wonder, when, amidst the acclaim Of thousands heralding to heaven his name-- Mid all those holier harmonies of fame Which sound along the path of virtuous souls, Like music round a planet as it rolls,-- He turns away--coldly, as if some gloom Hung o'er his heart no triumphs can illume;-- Some sightless grief upon whose blasted gaze Tho' glory's light may play, in vain it plays.

Yes, wretched AZIM! thine is such a grief, Beyond all hope, all terror, all relief!

A dark, cold calm, which nothing now can break.

Or warm or brighten,--Like that Syrian Lake[113]

Upon whose surface morn and summer shed Their smiles in vain, for all beneath is dead!-- Hearts there have been o'er which this weight of woe Came by long use of suffering, tame and slow; But thine, lost youth! was sudden--over thee It broke at once, when all seemed ecstasy; When Hope lookt up and saw the gloomy Past Melt into splendor and Bliss dawn at last-- 'Twas then, even then, o'er joys so freshly blown This mortal blight of misery came down; Even then, the full, warm gus.h.i.+ngs of thy heart Were checkt--like fount-drops, frozen as they start-- And there like them cold, sunless relics hang, Each fixt and chilled into a lasting pang.

One sole desire, one pa.s.sion now remains To keep life's fever still within his veins, Vengeance!--dire vengeance on the wretch who cast O'er him and all he loved that ruinous blast.

For this, when rumors reached him in his flight Far, far away, after that fatal night,-- Rumors of armies thronging to the attack Of the Veiled Chief,--for this he winged him back, Fleet as the Vulture speeds to flags unfurled, And when all hope seemed desperate, wildly hurled Himself into the scale and saved a world.

For this he still lives on, careless of all The wreaths that Glory on his path lets fall; For this alone exists--like lightning-fire, To speed one bolt of vengeance and expire!

But safe as yet that Spirit of Evil lives; With a small band of desperate fugitives, The last sole stubborn fragment left unriven Of the proud host that late stood fronting Heaven, He gained MEROU--breathed a short curse of blood O'er his lost throne--then past the JIHON'S flood,[114]

And gathering all whose madness of belief Still saw a Saviour in their down-fallen Chief, Raised the white banner within NEKSHEB'S gates,[115]

And there, untamed, the approaching conqueror waits.

Of all his Haram, all that busy hive, With music and with sweets sparkling alive, He took but one, the partner of his flight, One--not for love--not for her beauty's light-- No, ZELICA stood withering midst the gay.

Wan as the blossom that fell yesterday From the Alma tree and dies, while overhead To-day's young flower is springing in its stead.[116]

Oh, not for love--the deepest d.a.m.ned must be Touched with Heaven's glory ere such fiends as he Can feel one glimpse of Love's divinity.

But no, she is his victim; _there_ lie all Her charms for him-charms that can never pall, As long as h.e.l.l within his heart can stir, Or one faint trace of Heaven is left in her.

To work an angel's ruin,--to behold As white a page as Virtue e'er unrolled Blacken beneath his touch into a scroll Of d.a.m.ning sins, sealed with a burning soul-- This is his triumph; this the joy accurst, That ranks him among demons all but first: This gives the victim that before him lies Blighted and lost, a glory in his eyes, A light like that with which h.e.l.lfire illumes The ghastly, writhing wretch whom it consumes!

But other tasks now wait him--tasks that need All the deep daringness of thought and deed With which the Divs have gifted him--for mark,[117]

Over yon plains which night had else made dark, Those lanterns countless as the winged lights That spangle INDIA'S field on showery nights,--[118]

Far as their formidable gleams they shed, The mighty tents of the beleaguerer spread, Glimmering along the horizon's dusky line And thence in nearer circles till they s.h.i.+ne Among the founts and groves o'er which the town In all its armed magnificence looks down.

Yet, fearless, from his lofty battlements MOKANNA views that mult.i.tude of tents; Nay, smiles to think that, tho' entoiled, beset, Not less than myriads dare to front him yet;-- That friendless, throneless, he thus stands at bay, Even thus a match for myriads such as they.

"Oh, for a sweep of that dark Angel's wing, "Who brushed the thousands of the a.s.syrian King[119]

"To darkness in a moment that I might "People h.e.l.l's chambers with yon host to-night!

"But come what may, let who will grasp the throne, "Caliph or Prophet, Man alike shall groan; "Let who will torture him, Priest--Caliph--King-- "Alike this loathsome world of his shall ring "With victims' shrieks and howlings of the slave,-- "Sounds that shall glad me even within my grave!"

Thus, to himself--but to the scanty train Still left around him, a far different strain:-- "Glorious Defenders of the sacred Crown "I bear from Heaven whose light nor blood shall drown "Nor shadow of earth eclipse;--before whose gems "The paly pomp of this world's diadems, "The crown of GERAs.h.i.+D. the pillared throne "Of PARVIZ[120] and the heron crest that shone[121]

"Magnificent o'er ALI'S beauteous eyes.[122]

"Fade like the stars when morn is in the skies: "Warriors, rejoice--the port to which we've past "O'er Destiny's dark wave beams out at last!

"Victory's our own--'tis written in that Book "Upon whose leaves none but the angels look, "That ISLAM'S sceptre shall beneath the power "Of her great foe fall broken in that hour "When the moon's mighty orb before all eyes "From NEKSHEB'S Holy Well portentously shall rise!

"Now turn and see!"--They turned, and, as he spoke, A sudden splendor all around them broke, And they beheld an orb, ample and bright, Rise from the Holy Well and cast its light[123]

Round the rich city and the plain for miles,-- Flinging such radiance o'er the gilded tiles Of many a dome and fair-roofed imaret As autumn suns shed round them when they set.

Instant from all who saw the illusive sign A murmur broke--"Miraculous! divine!"

The Gheber bowed, thinking his idol star Had waked, and burst impatient thro' the bar Of midnight to inflame him to the war; While he of MOUSSA'S creed saw in that ray The glorious Light which in his freedom's day Had rested on the Ark, and now again[124]

Shone out to bless the breaking of his chain.

"To victory!" is at once the cry of all-- Nor stands MOKANNA loitering at that call; But instant the huge gates are flung aside, And forth like a diminutive mountain-tide Into the boundless sea they speed their course Right on into the MOSLEM'S mighty force.

The watchmen of the camp,--who in their rounds Had paused and even forgot the punctual sounds Of the small drum with which they count the night,[125]

To gaze upon that supernatural light,-- Now sink beneath an unexpected arm, And in a death-groan give their last alarm.

"On for the lamps that light yon lofty screen[126]

"Nor blunt your blades with ma.s.sacre so mean; "_There_ rests the CALIPH--speed--one lucky lance "May now achieve mankind's deliverance."

Desperate the die--such as they only cast Who venture for a world and stake their last.

But Fate's no longer with him--blade for blade Springs up to meet them thro' the glimmering shade, And as the clash is heard new legions soon Pour to the spot, like bees of KAUZEROON[127]

To the shrill timbrel's summons,--till at length The mighty camp swarms out in all its strength.

And back to NEKSHEB'S gates covering the plain With random slaughter drives the adventurous train; Among the last of whom the Silver Veil Is seen glittering at times, like the white sail Of some tost vessel on a stormy night Catching the tempest's momentary light!

And hath not this brought the proud spirit low!

Nor dashed his brow nor checkt his daring? No.

Tho' half the wretches whom at night he led To thrones and victory lie disgraced and dead, Yet morning hears him with unshrinking crest.

Still vaunt of thrones and victory to the rest;-- And they believe him!--oh, the lover may Distrust that look which steals his soul away;-- The babe may cease to think that it can play With Heaven's rainbow;--alchymists may doubt The s.h.i.+ning gold their crucible gives out; But Faith, fanatic Faith, once wedded fast To some dear falsehood hugs it to the last.

And well the Impostor knew all lures and arts, That LUCIFER e'er taught to tangle hearts; Nor, mid these last bold workings of his plot Against men's souls, is ZELICA forgot.

Ill-fated ZELICA! had reason been Awake, thro' half the horrors thou hast seen, Thou never couldst have borne it--Death had come At once and taken thy wrung spirit home.

But 'twas not so--a torpor, a suspense Of thought, almost of life, came o'er the intense And pa.s.sionate struggles of that fearful night, When her last hope of peace and heaven took flight: And tho' at times a gleam of frenzy broke,-- As thro' some dull volcano's veil of smoke Ominous flas.h.i.+ngs now and then will start, Which show the fire's still busy at its heart; Yet was she mostly wrapt in solemn gloom,-- Not such as AZIM'S, brooding o'er its doom And calm without as is the brow of death While busy worms are gnawing underneath-- But in a blank and pulseless torpor free From thought or pain, a sealed-up apathy Which left her oft with scarce one living thrill The cold, pale victim of her torturer's will.

Again, as in MEROU, he had her deckt Gorgeously out, the Priestess of the sect; And led her glittering forth before the eyes Of his rude train as to a sacrifice,-- Pallid as she, the young, devoted Bride Of the fierce NILE, when, deckt in all the pride Of nuptial pomp, she sinks into his tide.[128]

And while the wretched maid hung down her head, And stood as one just risen from the dead Amid that gazing crowd, the fiend would tell His credulous slaves it was some charm or spell Possest her now,--and from that darkened trance Should dawn ere long their Faith's deliverance.

Or if at times goaded by guilty shame, Her soul was roused and words of wildness came, Instant the bold blasphemer would translate Her ravings into oracles of fate, Would hail Heaven's signals in her flas.h.i.+ng eyes And call her shrieks the language of the skies!

But vain at length his arts--despair is seen Gathering around; and famine comes to glean All that the sword had left unreaped;--in vain At morn and eve across the northern plain He looks impatient for the promised spears Of the wild Hordes and TARTAR mountaineers; They come not--while his fierce beleaguerers pour Engines of havoc in, unknown before,[129]

And horrible as new;--javelins, that fly[130]

Enwreathed with smoky flames thro' the dark sky, And red-hot globes that opening as they mount Discharge as from a kindled Naphtha fount[131]

Showers of consuming fire o'er all below; Looking as thro' the illumined night they go Like those wild birds that by the Magians oft[132]

At festivals of fire were sent aloft Into the air with blazing f.a.gots tied To their huge wings, scattering combustion wide.

All night the groans of wretches who expire In agony beneath these darts of fire Ring thro' the city--while descending o'er Its shrines and domes and streets of sycamore,-- Its lone bazars, with their bright cloths of gold, Since the last peaceful pageant left unrolled,-- Its beauteous marble baths whose idle jets.

Now gush with blood,--and its tall minarets That late have stood up in the evening glare Of the red sun, unhallowed by a prayer;-- O'er each in turn the dreadful flame-bolts fall, And death and conflagration throughout all The desolate city hold high festival!

MOKANNA sees the world is his no more;-- One sting at parting and his grasp is o'er, "What! drooping now?"--thus, with unblus.h.i.+ng cheek, He hails the few who yet can hear him speak, Of all those famished slaves around him lying, And by the light of blazing temples dying; "What!--drooping now!--now, when at length we press "Home o'er the very threshold of success; "When ALLA from our ranks hath thinned away "Those grosser branches that kept out his ray "Of favor from us and we stand at length "Heirs of his light and children of his strength, "The chosen few who shall survive the fall "Of Kings and Thrones, triumphant over all!

"Have you then lost, weak murmurers as you are, "All faith in him who was your Light, your Star?

"Have you forgot the eye of glory hid "Beneath this Veil, the flas.h.i.+ng of whose lid "Could like a sun-stroke of the desert wither "Millions of such as yonder Chief brings. .h.i.ther?

"Long have its lightnings slept--too long--but now "All earth shall feel the unveiling of this brow!

"To-night--yes, sainted men! this very night, "I bid you all to a fair festal rite, "Where--having deep refreshed each weary limb "With viands such as feast Heaven's cherubim "And kindled up your souls now sunk and dim "With that pure wine the Dark-eyed Maids above "Keep, sealed with precious musk, for those they love,--[133]

"I will myself uncurtain in your sight "The wonders of this brow's ineffable light; "Then lead you forth and with a wink disperse "Yon myriads howling thro' the universe!"