Poems of James Clarence Mangan (Many hitherto uncollected): Centenary edition: Edited, with preface and notes by D. J. O'Donoghue: Introduction by John Mitchel |
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THE LAST WORDS OF AL-HASSAN. |
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 | Poems of James Clarence Mangan |  |
THE LAST WORDS OF AL-HASSAN.
Farewell forever to all I love!
To river and rock farewell!
To Zoumlah's gloomful cypress-grove,
And Shaarmal's tulipy dell!
To Deenween-Kûllaha's light blue bay,
And Oreb's lonely strand!
My race is run—I am called away—
I go to the Lampless Land.
'Llah Hu!
I am called away from the light of day
To my tent in the Dark, Dark Land!
To river and rock farewell!
To Zoumlah's gloomful cypress-grove,
And Shaarmal's tulipy dell!
To Deenween-Kûllaha's light blue bay,
And Oreb's lonely strand!
My race is run—I am called away—
I go to the Lampless Land.
'Llah Hu!
I am called away from the light of day
To my tent in the Dark, Dark Land!
201
I have seen the standard of Ali stained
With the blood of the Brave and Free,
And the Kaaba's Venerable Stone profaned
By the truculent Wahabee.
O Allah, for the light of another sun,
With my Bazra sword in hand!—
But I rave in vain—my course is run—
I go to the Lampless Land.
'Llah Hu!
My course is run—my goal is won—
I go to the Dark, Dark Land!
With the blood of the Brave and Free,
And the Kaaba's Venerable Stone profaned
By the truculent Wahabee.
O Allah, for the light of another sun,
With my Bazra sword in hand!—
But I rave in vain—my course is run—
I go to the Lampless Land.
'Llah Hu!
My course is run—my goal is won—
I go to the Dark, Dark Land!
Yet why should I live a day—an hour?
The friends I valued lie low;
My sisters dance in the halls of the Giaour;
My brethren fight for the foe.
None stood by the banner this arm unfurled
Save Khárada's mountain-band.
'Tis well that I leave so base a world,
Though to dwell in the Lampless Land—
'Llah Hu!
'Tis well that I leave so false a world,
Though to dwell in the Dark, Dark Land!
The friends I valued lie low;
My sisters dance in the halls of the Giaour;
My brethren fight for the foe.
None stood by the banner this arm unfurled
Save Khárada's mountain-band.
'Tis well that I leave so base a world,
Though to dwell in the Lampless Land—
'Llah Hu!
'Tis well that I leave so false a world,
Though to dwell in the Dark, Dark Land!
Even she, my loved and lost Ameen,
The moon-white pearl of my soul,
Could pawn her peace for the show and sheen
Of silken Istamból!
How little did I bode what a year would see,
When we parted at Samarkhànd—
My bride in the harem of the Osmânlee,
Myself in the Lampless Land!
'Llah Hu!
My bride in the harem of the Osmânlee,
Myself in the Dark, Dark Land!
The moon-white pearl of my soul,
Could pawn her peace for the show and sheen
Of silken Istamból!
How little did I bode what a year would see,
When we parted at Samarkhànd—
My bride in the harem of the Osmânlee,
Myself in the Lampless Land!
'Llah Hu!
My bride in the harem of the Osmânlee,
Myself in the Dark, Dark Land!
202
We weep for the Noble who perish young,
Like flowers before their bloom—
The great-souled Few who, unseen and unsung,
Go down to the charnel's gloom;
But, written on the brow of each, if Man
Could read it and understand,
Is the changeless decree of Heaven's Deewàn—
We are born for the Lampless land!
'Llah Hu!
By the dread firmàn of Heaven's Deewàn—
All are born for the Dark, Dark Land!
Like flowers before their bloom—
The great-souled Few who, unseen and unsung,
Go down to the charnel's gloom;
But, written on the brow of each, if Man
Could read it and understand,
Is the changeless decree of Heaven's Deewàn—
We are born for the Lampless land!
'Llah Hu!
By the dread firmàn of Heaven's Deewàn—
All are born for the Dark, Dark Land!
The wasted moon has a marvellous look
Amiddle of the starry hordes—
The heavens, too, shine like a mystic book,
All bright with burning words,
The mists of the dawn begin to dislimn
Zahàra's castles of sand.
Farewell!—farewell! Mine eyes feel dim—
They turn to the Lampless Land.
'Llah Hu!
My heart is weary—mine eyes are dim—
I would rest in the Dark, Dark Land!
Amiddle of the starry hordes—
The heavens, too, shine like a mystic book,
All bright with burning words,
The mists of the dawn begin to dislimn
Zahàra's castles of sand.
Farewell!—farewell! Mine eyes feel dim—
They turn to the Lampless Land.
'Llah Hu!
My heart is weary—mine eyes are dim—
I would rest in the Dark, Dark Land!
| Poems of James Clarence Mangan | |