Betwixt Two Seas :: :: University of Virginia Library

Where rarely sunbeam of the morn,
Or ev'ning moonbeam ever stray'd,
Above the ground she trod in scorn,
Here, draped in samite and brocade,
Behold the great Sultāna laid,
Of all her fleeting greatness shorn!

“Khureem Soldāné!” Ere the span
That made the measure of thy day,
'Twixt Taurus and Carpathian
Had flourish'd many a lady gay,
Who each in turn had held her sway,
And been belov'd of Suleymān;

Yet none, for all her beauty's might,
In Queenly craft could vie with thee,
Whom men have “Roxalana” hight,
Red Russian from the Baltic Sea,
Whose deeds, in ages still to be,
Shall stalk, uncover'd, in the light.

Thy smiles, thy wiles, thy sighs and tears
Our fathers and our grandsires knew;—
Thy rhythmic phrases charm'd their ears,
And we have heard their echo, too,
And seen thy fair face peeping thro'
The parted curtains of the years;

Whilst here, two thousand miles away,
Three hundred years hast thou lain dead
(Where I have sought thy shrine, to-day,
By stern white-turban'd Mollāh led),
With tassell'd lamps above thy head
And carpets spread in rich array;

The walls that shut thee from the sun
The potter's art made bright with blue,
Where leaf and tendril overrun
The Persian porcelain's ivory hue,
And blazon'd letters, twisting thro',
Proclaim there is no God but One;

Without, the scented roses twine,
The Suleymānieh tow'rs o'erhead,
The flagstones, flecked with shade and shine,
Re-echo to the pilgrim's tread,
And soft grey doves their wings outspread
In the blue vault above thy shrine;

And almost might we seem to be
(So sweet the spirit of repose
That breathes alike o'er thee and me
From that One God the Moslem knows),
In some serene Cathedral-close
In Christian lands beyond the sea.

Ah, Lady fair! (this thought steals o'er
My mind, beneath thy burial-fane)
If, when the one that guards thy door
Lies firmly bound in slumber's chain,
Thou, flitting forth, couldst gaze again
On scenes thou knew'st so well of yore,

With what a thrill of sad surprise
At changes wrought by time and tide
Whilst thou wert sleeping, would thine eyes
Newly awaken'd, open wide,
Thou, that had'st once thy place beside
The “mightiest of Majesties”!

No Soldān ever saw the light
That was more famed or fear'd than he
Who bow'd, a bond-slave, in thy sight!
He was the lord of land and sea,
And twice his thumb was on the key
That warded Europe from his might.

Sleep, Lady, Sleep! His reign is o'er!
Sloth and Corruption taint the air;—
Thou Tourbédār! make fast the door
Lest Roxalana forth should fare!
Yea, tho' men smite and do not spare
His pow'r is gone for ever more!

Gone in his glory from the sea;
Gone in his greatness from the land;
The Armies starve and Mutiny,
The galleys rot upon the strand;
Without the walls the nations stand
And wait for what the end may be;

Then, here, where sunbeams rarely stray,
Or moonbeams pierce yon tinted pane,
Hide, Roxalana! from the day
Wherein thine ancient glories wane,
Nor wake to see the jackals reign
Where once the Lion held his sway!

Descriptive of the state of affairs previous to the last war.