Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers and Other Poems Part 17

III.

"Towards the south, the columns marched Beneath a cloudless sky: Their weapons glittered in the blaze Of the sun of Barbary; And with the dusty desert sand Their horses' manes were white.

The wild marauding tribes dispersed In terror of their lives; They fled unto the mountains With their children and their wives, And urged the clumsy dromedary Up the Atlas' height."

IV.

"The Moors have ta'en their vantage-ground, The volleys thunder fast-- The dark defile is blazing Like a heated oven-blast; The lion hears the strange turmoil, And leaves his mangled prey-- No place was that for him to feed; And thick and loud the cries, Feu!--Allah! Allah!--En avant!

In mingled discord rise; The Franks have reached the summit-- They have won the victory!"

V.

"With bristling steel, upon the top The victors take their stand: Beneath their feet, with all its towns, They see the promised land-- From Tunis, even unto Fez, From Atlas to the seas.

The cavaliers alight to gaze, And gaze full well they may, Where countless minarets stand up So solemnly and gray, Amidst the dark-green ma.s.ses Of the flowering myrtle-trees."

VI.

"The almond blossoms in the vale; The aloe from the rock Throws out its long and p.r.i.c.kly leaves, Nor dreads the tempest's shock: A blessed land, I ween, is that, Though luckless is its Bey.

There lies the sea--beyond lies France!

Her banners in the air Float proudly and triumphantly-- A salvo! come, prepare!

And loud and long the mountains rang With that glad artillery."

VII.

"'Tis they!" exclaimed the aged Scheik.

"I've battled by their side-- I fought beneath the Pyramids!

That day of deathless pride-- Red as thy turban, Moor, that eve, Was every creek in Nile!

But tell me--" and he griped his hand-- "Their Sultaun. Stranger, say-- His form--his face--his posture, man?

Thou saw'st him in the fray?

His eye--what wore he?" But the Moor Sought in his vest awhile.

VIII.

"Their Sultaun, Scheik, remains at home Within his palace walls: He sends a Pasha in his stead To brave the bolts and b.a.l.l.s.

He was not there. An Aga burst For him through Atlas' hold.

Yet I can show thee somewhat too.

A Frankish Cavalier Told me his effigy was stamped Upon this medal here-- He gave me with others For an Arab steed I sold."

IX.

The old man took the golden coin: Gazed steadfastly awhile, If that could be the Sultaun Whom from the banks of Nile He guided o'er the desert path-- Then sighed and thus spake he-- "'Tis not _his_ eye--'tis not _his_ brow-- Another face is there: I never saw this man before-- His head is like a pear!

Take back thy medal, Moor--'tis not That which I hoped to see."

EPITAPH OF CONSTANTINE KANARIS

FROM THE GERMAN OF WILHELM MuLLER

I am Constantine Kanaris: I, who lie beneath this stone, Twice into the air in thunder Have the Turkish galleys blown.

In my bed I died--a Christian, Hoping straight with Christ to be; Yet one earthly wish is buried Deep within the grave with me--

That upon the open ocean When the third Armada came, They and I had died together, Whirled aloft on wings of flame.

Yet 'tis something that they've laid me In a land without a stain: Keep it thus, my G.o.d and Saviour, Till I rise from earth again!

THE REFUSAL OF CHARON[4]

FROM THE ROMAIC

Why look the distant mountains So gloomy and so drear?

Are rain-clouds pa.s.sing o'er them, Or is the tempest near?

No shadow of the temptest Is there, nor wind nor rain-- 'Tis Charon that is pa.s.sing by, With all his gloomy train.

The young men march before him, In all their strength and pride; The tender little infants, They totter by his side; The old men walk behind him, And earnestly they pray-- Both old and young imploring him To grant some brief delay.

"O Charon! halt, we pray thee, Beside some little town, Or near some sparkling fountain, Where the waters wimple down!

The old will drink and be refreshed, The young the disc will fling, And the tender little children Pluck flowers beside the spring."

"I will not stay my journey, Nor halt by any town, Near any sparkling fountain, Where the waters wimple down: The mothers coming to the well, Would know the babes they bore, The wives would clasp their husbands, Nor could I part them more."

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 4: According to the superst.i.tion of the modern Greeks, Charon performs the function which their ancestors a.s.signed to Hermes, of conducting the souls of the dead to the other world.]

THE END.