"Where the shatter'd columns lie, Showing Carthage once had been, If the wandering Santon's eye Our mysterious rites hath seen,-- Oft he cons the prayer of death, To the nations preaches doom, 'Asrael's brand hath left the sheath!

Moslems, think upon the tomb!'

"Ours the scorpion, ours the snake, Ours the hydra of the fen, Ours the tiger of the brake, All that plagues the sons of men.

Ours the tempest's midnight wrack, Pestilence that wastes by day-- Dread the race of Zaharak!

Fear the spell of Dahomay!"

Uncouth and strange the accents shrill Rung those vaulted roofs among, Long it was ere, faint and still, Died the far-resounding song.

While yet the distant echoes roll, The Warrior communed with his soul.

"When first I took this venturous quest, I swore upon the rood, Neither to stop, nor turn, nor rest, For evil or for good.

My forward path too well I ween, Lies yonder fearful ranks between; For man unarm'd, 'tis bootless hope With tigers and with fiends to cope-- Yet, if I turn, what waits me there, Save famine dire and fell despair?-- Other conclusion let me try, Since, choose howe'er I list, I die.

Forward, lies faith and knightly fame; Behind, are perjury and shame.

In life or death I hold my word!"

With that he drew his trusty sword, Caught down a banner from the wall, And enter'd thus the fearful hall.

On high each wayward Maiden threw Her swarthy arm, with wild haloo!

On either side a tiger sprung-- Against the leftward foe he flung The ready banner, to engage With tangling folds the brutal rage; The right-hand monster in mid air He struck so fiercely and so fair, Through gullet and through spinal bone The trenchant blade hath sheerly gone.

His grisly brethren ramp'd and yell'd, But the slight leash their rage withheld, Whilst, 'twixt their ranks, the dangerous road Firmly, though swift, the champion strode.

Safe to the gallery's bound he drew, Safe pa.s.s'd an open portal through; And when against pursuit he flung The gate, judge if the echoes rung!

Onward his daring course he bore, While, mix'd with dying growl and roar, Wild jubilee and loud hurra Pursued him on his venturous way.

"Hurra, hurra! Our watch is done!

We hail once more the tropic sun.

Pallid beams of northern day, Farewell, farewell! Hurra, hurra!

"Five hundred years o'er this cold glen Hath the pale sun come round again; Foot of man, till now, hath ne'er Dared to cross the Hall of Fear.

"Warrior! thou, whose dauntless heart Gives us from our ward to part.

Be as strong in future trial, Where resistance is denial.

"Now for Afric's glowing sky, Zwenga wide and Atlas high, Zaharak and Dahomay!---- Mount the winds! Hurra, hurra!"

The wizard song at distance died, As if in ether borne astray, While through waste halls and chambers wide The Knight pursued his steady way.

Till to a lofty dome he came, That flash'd with such a brilliant flame, As if the wealth of all the world Were there in rich confusion hurl'd.

For here the gold, in sandy heaps, With duller earth incorporate, sleeps; Was there in ingots piled, and there Coin'd badge of empery it bare; Yonder, huge bars of silver lay, Dimm'd by the diamond's neighbouring ray, Like the pale moon in morning day; And in the midst four maidens stand, The daughters of some distant land.

Their hue was of the dark-red dye, That fringes oft a thunder sky; Their hands palmetto baskets bare, And cotton fillets bound their hair; Slim was their form, their mien was shy, To earth they bent the humbled eye, Folded their arms, and suppliant kneel'd, And thus their proffer'd gifts reveal'd.

CHORUS.

"See the treasures Merlin piled, Portion meet for Arthur's child.

Bathe in Wealth's unbounded stream, Wealth that avarice ne'er could dream!"

FIRST MAIDEN.

"See these clots of virgin gold!

Sever'd from the sparry mould, Nature's mystic alchemy In the mine thus bade them lie; And their orient smile can win Kings to stoop, and saints to sin."--

SECOND MAIDEN.

"See these pearls that long have slept; These were tears by Naiads wept For the loss of Marinel.

Tritons in the silver sh.e.l.l Treasured them, till hard and white As the teeth of Amphitrite."--

THIRD MAIDEN.

"Does a livelier hue delight?

Here are rubies blazing bright, Here the emerald's fairy green, And the topaz glows between; Here their varied hues unite, In the changeful chrysolite."--

FOURTH MAIDEN.

"Leave these gems of poorer shine, Leave them all, and look on mine!

While their glories I expand, Shade thine eyebrows with thy hand.

Mid-day sun and diamond's blaze Blind the rash beholder's gaze."--

CHORUS.

"Warrior, seize the splendid store; Would 'twere all our mountains bore!

We should ne'er in future story, Read, Peru, thy perish'd glory!"

Calmly and unconcerned, the Knight Waved aside the treasures bright: "Gentle Maidens, rise, I pray!

Bar not thus my destined way.

Let these boasted brilliant toys Braid the hair of girls and boys!

Bid your streams of gold expand O'er proud London's thirsty land.

De Vaux of wealth saw never need, Save to purvey him arms and steed, And all the ore he deign'd to h.o.a.rd Inlays his helm and hilts his sword."

Thus gently parting from their hold, He left, unmoved, the dome of gold.

And now the morning sun was high, De Vaux was weary, faint, and dry; When lo! a plashing sound he hears, A gladsome signal that he nears Some frolic water-run; And soon he reach'd a court-yard square, Where, dancing in the sultry air, Toss'd high aloft, a fountain fair Was sparkling in the sun.

On right and left, a fair arcade, In long perspective view displayed Alleys and bowers, for sun or shade: But, full in front, a door, Low-brow'd and dark, seem'd as it led To the lone dwelling of the dead, Whose memory was no more.

Here stopp'd De Vaux an instant's s.p.a.ce, To bathe his parched lips and face, And mark'd with well-pleased eye, Refracted on the fountain stream, In rainbow hues, the dazzling beam Of that gay summer sky.

His senses felt a mild control, Like that which lulls the weary soul, From contemplation high Relaxing, when the ear receives The music that the greenwood leaves Make to the breezes' sigh.

And oft in such a dreamy mood, The half-shut eye can frame Fair apparitions in the wood, As if the nymphs of field and flood In gay procession came.

Are these of such fantastic mould, Seen distant down the fair arcade, These maids enlink'd in sister-fold, Who, late at bashful distance staid, Now tripping from the greenwood shade, Nearer the musing champion draw, And, in a pause of seeming awe, Again stand doubtful now?-- Ah, that sly pause of witching powers!

That seems to say, "To please be ours, Be yours to tell us how."

Their hue was of the golden glow That suns of Candahar bestow, O'er which in slight suffusion, flows A frequent tinge of paly rose; Their limbs were fashion'd fair and free, In nature's justest symmetry; And, wreathed with flowers, with odours graced, Their raven ringlets reached the waist: In eastern pomp, its gilding pale The hennah lent each shapely nail, And the dark sumah gave the eye More liquid and more l.u.s.trous dye.

The spotless veil of misty lawn, In studied disarrangement, drawn The form and bosom o'er, To win the eye, or tempt the touch, For modesty show'd all too much-- Too much, yet promised more.

"Gentle Knight, a while delay,"

Thus they sung, "thy toilsome way, While we pay the duty due To our Master and to you.

Over Avarice, over Fear, Love triumphant led thee here; Warrior, list to us, for we Are slaves to Love, are friends to thee.

Though no treasured gems have we, To proffer on the bended knee, Though we boast nor arm nor heart For the a.s.sagay or dart, Swains allow each simple girl Ruby lip and teeth of pearl!

Or, if dangers more you prize, Flatterers find them in our eyes.

"Stay, then, gentle Warrior, stay, Rest till evening steal on day; Stay, O, stay!--in yonder bowers We will braid thy locks with flowers, Spread the feast and fill the wine, Charm thy ear with sounds divine, Weave our dances till delight Yield to languor, day to night.

"Then shall she you most approve, Sing the lays that best you love, Soft thy mossy couch shall spread, Watch thy pillow, prop thy head, Till the weary night be o'er-- Gentle Warrior, wouldst thou more?

Wouldst thou more, fair Warrior,--she Is slave to Love and slave to thee."

O, do not hold it for a crime In the bold hero of my rhyme.