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HASSAN'S MOTHER.

(From THE GIAOUR.)

THE browsing camels' bells are tinkling : His Mother look'd from her lattice high, She saw the dews of eve besprinkling The pasture green beneath her eye,

She saw the planets faintly twinkling : ""Tis twilight-sur sure his train is nigh." She could not rest in the garden-bower,

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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?

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—
How could I deem his courser slow?
Right well my largess shall repay
His welcome speed, and weary way."

The Tartar lighted at the gate,
But scarce upheld his fainting weight :
His swarthy visage spake distress,
But this might be from weariness;

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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 calpac1 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 ;
Woe to the Giaour! for his the guilt."

THE GIAOUR'S LOVE.

(From THE GIAOUR.)

THE cold in clime are cold in blood,

Their love can scarce deserve the name;

But mine was like the lava flood

That boils in Ætna's breast of flame.

I cannot prate in puling strain
Of ladye-love, and beauty's chain :

If changing cheek, and scorching vein,
Lips taught to writhe, but not complain,
If bursting heart, and madd'ning brain,
And daring deed, and vengeful steel,
And all that I have felt, and feel,
Betoken love-that love was mine,
And shown by many a bitter sign.

1 The solid cap or centre of the head-dress; the shawl is wound round it and forms the turban.

'Tis true, I could not whine nor sigh,
I knew but to obtain or die.
I die-but first I have possess'd,

And come what may, I have been blest.
Shall I the doom I sought upbraid?
No-reft of all, yet undismay'd

But for the thought of Leila slain,
Give me the pleasure with the pain,
So would I live and love again.
I grieve, but not, my holy guide!
For him who dies, but her who died :
She sleeps beneath the wandering wave—
Ah! had she but an earthly grave,

This breaking heart and throbbing head
Should seek and share her narrow bed.
She was a form of life and light,
That, seen, became a part of sight;
And rose, where'er I turn'd mine eye,
The Morning-star of Memory!

DEATH OF SELIM.

(BRIDE OF ABYDOS, Canto ii. Stanzas 22-26.)

ZULEIKA, mute and motionless,
Stood like that statue of distress,
When, her last hope for ever gone,
The mother harden'd into stone;
All in the maid that eye could see
Was but a younger Niobe.

But ere her lip, or even her eye,
Essay'd to speak, or look reply,
Beneath the garden's wicket porch
Far flash'd on high a blazing torch!
Another and another-and another-

“Oh! fly—no more—yet now my more than brother!"
Far, wide, through every thicket spread,
The fearful lights are gleaming red;
Nor these alone-for each right hand
Is ready with a sheathless brand.
They part, pursue, return, and wheel
With searching flambeau, shining steel;
And last of all, his sabre waving,
Stern Giaffir in his fury raving:
And now almost they touch the cave-
Oh! must that grot be Selim's grave?

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Dauntless he stood- "Tis come-soon past-
One kiss, Zuleika-'tis my last :

But yet my band not far from shore

May hear this signal, see the flash ;
Yet now too few-the attempt were rash:

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No matter-yet one effort more. Forth to the cavern mouth he stept; His pistol's echo rang on high, Zuleika started not, nor wept,

Despair benumb'd her breast and eye !-

They hear me not, or if they ply

Their oars, 'tis but to see me die;

That sound hath drawn my foes more nigh.
Then forth my father's scimitar,

Thou ne'er hast seen less equal war!
Farewell, Zuleika !-Sweet! retire:
Yet stay within-here linger safe,
At thee his rage will only chafe.

Stir not-lest even to thee perchance
Some erring blade or ball should glance.
Fear'st thou for him?-may I expire
If in this strife I seek thy sire!
No-though by him that poison pour'd :
No-though again he call me coward!
But tamely shall I meet their steel?
No-as each crest save his may feel!"

One bound he made, and gain'd the sand :
Already at his feet hath sunk

The foremost of the prying band,

A gasping head, a quivering trunk:
Another falls-but round him close
A swarming circle of his foes;
From right to left his path he cleft,

And almost met the meeting wave:
His boat appears—not five oars' length-
His comrades strain with desperate strength--
Oh! are they yet in time to save?

His feet the foremost breakers lave;
His band are plunging in the bay,
Their sabres glitter through the spray;
Wet-wild-unwearied to the strand
They struggle-now they touch the land!
They come 'tis but to add to slaughter-
His heart's best blood is on the water.

Escaped from shot, unharm'd by steel,
Or scarcely grazed its force to feel,
Had Selim won, betray'd, beset,

To where the strand and billows met;
There as his last step left the land,

And the last death-blow dealt his hand

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