University of Virginia Library

Wounded and fainting Assad fell
Upon the carnage-cover'd ground;
But outward he was hale and well,
Compared with inward wound.
A moment gazed he on the fair,
With nerveless hand and frenzied stare;—
He saw her borne on courser, fleet
As ever paw'd with restless feet:—
He tried to raise his voice,—'twas vain;
Convulsed with rage, fatigue, and pain,
He fell like tenant of the grave,
Too faint to fight, too weak to save.
And what, when waking, were Assad's throes,
When returning mem'ry drew each scene?
What then were his feelings—Ah! what were his woes
To remember what late had been!—
To trace the shock, the blood of war,
The tophaike

Tophaike,—a Musquet.

and the scimitar,—
The turban cleft,—the trunkless head,—
The groans of those who fought and bled,—
The faint,—the dying,—and the dead!—
The savage fury of the foe,—
The flashing steel that mark'd the blow,
That blow which fell'd him from his maid,
That hateful blow from Turkish blade!—
The evil eye that on him glanced,—
The fiery steeds that foam'd and pranced,—
The shouts, the thunder of the fight,—
The flashes of each carabine,
That cast a momentary light,
In which pale Death was seen to shine.
The last, the worst, the maddening sight,
Of Guleph's prey, and Safie's flight?