When she seeks her aerie banging And in the naked lightnings Of truth they purge their dazzled eyes. Let the beautiful and the brave SEMICHORUS I. With the gifts of gladness Greece did thy cradle strew; With the tears of sadness Greece did thy shroud bedew : With an orphan's affection She followed thy bier through time! And at thy resurrection Re-appeareth, like thou, sublime! If Heaven should resume thee, To Heaven shall her spirit ascend; If Hell should entomb thee, To Hell shall her high hearts bend. SEMICHORUS I. If Annihilation SEMICHORUS II. Dust let her glories be; And a name and a nation Be forgotten, Freedom with thee! INDIAN. His brow grows darker-breathe not-move not ! With your panting loud and fast Have awakened him at last. Mahmud (starting from his sleep). Man the Seraglio-guard! make fast the gate. What! from a cannonade of three short hours? "Tis false that breach towards the Bosphorus Cannot be practicable yet-Who stirs ? H Stand to the match; that when the foe prevails, The conqueror and the conquered! Heave the tower [Enter HASSAN Ha! what! The truth of day lightens upon my dream, And I am Mahmud still. Hassan. Is strangely moved. Mahmud. Your Sublime Highness The times do cast strange shadows On those who watch and who must rule their course, Lest they, being first in peril as in glory, Be whelmed in the fierce ebb :-and these are of them. As thus from sleep into the troubled day; Thou didst say thou knewest A Jew, whose spirit is a chronicle Of strange and secret and forgotten things. I bade thee summon him :-'tis said his tribe Hassan. The Jew of whom I spake is old,-so old With light, and to the soul that quickens them To the winter wind :- but from his eye looks forth Some say that this is he whom the great prophet The sage, in truth, by dreadful abstinence, Mahmud. Hassan. I would talk Thy will is even now Made known to him, where he dwells in a sea-cavern Than thou or God! He who would question him Will answer, Through the soft twilight to the Bosphorus: The Jew appears. Few dare, and few who dare, [A shout within. Mahmud. Evil, doubtless; like all human sounds. Let me converse with spirits. Hassan. That shout again. Mahmud. This Jew whom thou hast summoned Hassan. Will be here Mahmud. When the omnipotent hour, to which are yoked He, I, and all things, shall compel-enough. Silence those mutineers-that drunken crew That crowd about the pilot in the storm. Ay strike the foremost shorter by a head! They weary me, and I have need of rest. Kings are like stars-they rise and set, they have The worship of the world, but no repose. CHORUS. Worlds on worlds are rolling ever Like the bubbles on a river, Sparkling, bursting, borne away. But they are still immortal [Exeunt severally. Who, through birth's orient portal, And death's dark chasm hurrying to and fro, In the brief dust and light Gathered around their chariots as they go; Bright or dim are they, as the robes they last A power from the unknown God; The thorns of death and shame. Which the orient planet animates with light; Like blood-hounds mild and tame, Nor preyed until their lord had taken flight. Arose, and it shall set : While blazoned as on heaven's immortal noon Swift as the radiant shapes of sleep From one whose dreams are paradise, The Powers of earth and air Fled from the folding star of Bethlehem: And even Olympian Jove Grew weak, for killing Truth had glared on them Their waters turned to blood, their dew to tears, Enter MAHMUD, HASSAN, DAOOD, and others. Mahmud. More gold? our ancestors bought gold with victory, And shall I sell it for defeat? Daood. Clamour for pay. Mahmud. The Janizars Go! bid them pay themselves With Christian blood! Are there no Grecian virgins Whose shrieks and spasms and tears they may enjoy? No hoary priests after that Patriarch Who bent the curse against his country's heart, Daood. And yet the harvest to the sickle-men Is as a grain to each. Mahmud. It has been sown, Then take this signet, Unlock the seventh chamber, in which lie [Exit DAOOD. The prey-birds and the wolves are gorged and sleep; When the orient moon of Islam rolled in triumph Ruin above, and anarchy below; Terror without, and treachery within; The chalice of destruction full, and all Thirsting to drink; and who among us dares To dash it from his lips? and where is Hope? Hassan. The lamp of our dominion still rides high; One God is God-Mahomet is his Prophet. Four hundred thousand Moslems, from the limits Throng, like full clouds at the Sirocco's cry, But not like them to weep their strength in tears |