And scarce their foam the pebbles shook, 210 215 In midnight call to wonted prayer; Like some lone spirit's o'er the plain : 'Twas musical, but sadly sweet, 225 Such as when winds and harp-strings meet, And take a long unmeasured tone, To mortal minstrelsy unknown. It seemed to those within the wall A cry prophetic of their fall: It struck even the besieger's ear C 230 An undefined and sudden thrill, Which makes the heart a moment still, Then beat with quicker pulse, ashamed Of that strange sense it's silence framed; Such as a sudden passing-bell Wakes, though but for a stranger's knell. XII. 235 The tent of Alp was on the shore; The sound was hushed, the prayer was o'er; 240 The watch was set, the night-round made, - Not his the loud fanatic boast To plant the crescent o'er the cross, Secure in paradise to be By Houris loved immortally: Nor his, what burning patriots feel, The stern exaltedness of zeal, Profuse of blood, untired in toil, 255 260 They followed him, for he was brave, 265 And great the spoil he got and gave; They crouched to him, for he had skill But still his Christian origin With them was little less than sin. 270 They envied even the faithless fame He earned beneath a Moslem name; Since he, their mightiest chief, had been They did not know how pride can stoop, 275 Nor all the false and fatal zeal The convert of revenge can feel. 280 He ruled them-man may rule the worst, His head grows fevered, and his pulse 290 The turban on his hot brow pressed, The mail weighed lead-like on his breast, He could not rest, he could not stay But walked him forth along the sand, Where thousand sleepers strewed the strand. 305 310 In sickly vigil wandered on, And envied all he gazed upon. XIV. He felt his soul become more light Through thousand summers brightly gone, 315 320 |