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Along the gulf, the mount, the clime;
It will not melt, like man, to time:
Tyrant and slave are swept away,
Less formed to wear before the ray;

But that white veil, the lightest, frailest,
Which on the mighty mount thou hailest,
While tower and tree are torn and rent,
Shines o'er its craggy battlement;
In form a peak, in height a cloud,

In texture like a hovering shroud,

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Thus high by parting Freedom spread,

As from her fond abode she fled,

And lingered on the spot, where long

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Her prophet spirit spake in song.
Oh, still her step at moments falters

O'er withered fields, and ruined altars,

And fain would wake, in souls too broken,

By pointing to each glorious token.

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But vain her voice, till better days
Dawn in those yet remembered rays
Which shone upon the Persian flying,
And saw the Spartan smile in dying.

XV.

Not mindless of these mighty times

Was Alp, despite his flight and crimes;
And through this night, as on he wandered,
And o'er the past and present pondered,
And thought upon the glorious dead
Who there in better cause had bled,
He felt how faint and feebly dim

The fame that could accrue to him,

Who cheered the band, and waved the sword,

A traitor in a turbaned horde;

And led them to the lawless siege,

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Their spirits wrapt the dusky mountain,
Their memory sparkled o'er the fountain;
The meanest rill, the mightiest river
Rolled mingling with their fame for ever.
Despite of every yoke she bears,
That land is glory's still and theirs!
'Tis still a watch-word to the earth.

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When man would do a deed of worth,

He points to Greece, and turns to tread,
So sanctioned, on the tyrant's head:

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He looks to her, and rushes on

Where life is lost, or freedom won.

XVI.

Still by the shore Alp mutely mused,

And wooed the freshness Night diffused.

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There shrinks no ebb in that tideless sea 3,

Which changeless rolls eternally ;

So that wildest of waves, in their angriest mood, Scarce break on the bounds of the land for a rood;

And the powerless moon beholds them flow, 385 Heedless if she come or go:

Calm or high, in main or bay,

On their course she hath no sway,

The rock unworn its base doth bare,

And looks o'er the surf, but it comes not there; 390 And the fringe of the foam may be seen below,

On the line that it left long ages ago:

A smooth short space of yellow sand
Between it and the greener land.

He wandered on, along the beach,

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Till within the range of a carbine's reach

Of the leaguered wall; but they saw him not,

Or how could he 'scape from the hostile shot?
Did traitors lurk in the Christians' hold?

Were their hands grown stiff, or their hearts waxed

cold?

I know not, in sooth; but from yonder wall
There flashed no fire, and there hissed no ball,
Though he stood beneath the bastion's frown,
That flanked the sea-ward gate of the town;

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Though he heard the sound, and could almost tell

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Gorging and growling o'er carcase and limb;

They were too busy to bark at him!

From a Tartar's skull they had stripped the flesh, As ye peel the fig when its fruit is fresh;

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And their white tusks crunched o'er the whiter skull,

As it slipped through their jaws, when their edge grew dull,

As they lazily mumbled the bones of the dead, When they scarce could rise from the spot where they fed;

So well had they broken a lingering fast

With those who had fallen for that night's repast. 420 And Alp knew, by the turbans that rolled on the sand, The foremost of these were the best of his band: Crimson and green were the shawls of their wear, And each scalp had a single long tuft of hair",

All the rest was shaven and bare.

The scalps were in the wild dog's maw,

The hair was tangled round his jaw.

But close by the shore, on the edge of the gulf,
There sat a vulture flapping a wolf,

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Who had stolen from the hills, but kept away, 430

Scared by the dogs, from the human prey;

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