 | Safie |  |
Yes! sad was the scene where lay scatter'd the wounded;
By beasts of the desart the spot was surrounded:
The forms of the dead and the dying remain'd,
To rot on the places their life-streams had stain'd;—
Or to feed the wild wolves that came howling to tear,
Allured by the blood-scent that rode on the air.
With ruinous gashes the vassals lay moaning,
The wind was their comfort; the sand was their covering;—
The weary were weeping, the wounded were groaning,
And over their heads were the dark vultures hovering.
They heard the birds screaming a desolate sound,
And the flap of their wings as they lit on the ground:
They felt the fierce beasts gnash their horrible teeth,
But they could not—they wish'd not, to flee from their death;
For their arms were too mangled, their spirits too weak,
To resist the wolf's fang, or the vulture's strong beak .
By beasts of the desart the spot was surrounded:
The forms of the dead and the dying remain'd,
To rot on the places their life-streams had stain'd;—
Or to feed the wild wolves that came howling to tear,
Allured by the blood-scent that rode on the air.
With ruinous gashes the vassals lay moaning,
The wind was their comfort; the sand was their covering;—
The weary were weeping, the wounded were groaning,
And over their heads were the dark vultures hovering.
They heard the birds screaming a desolate sound,
And the flap of their wings as they lit on the ground:
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But they could not—they wish'd not, to flee from their death;
For their arms were too mangled, their spirits too weak,
To resist the wolf's fang, or the vulture's strong beak .
| Safie | |