For thousands of years were inhumed on the shore:
What of them is left, to tell

Where they lie, and how they fell?

765

770

Not a stone on their turf, nor a bone in their graves;

But they live in the verse that immortally saves.

XXVI.

Hark to the Allah shout! a band

Of the Mussulman bravest and best is at hand : 775

Their leader's nervous arm is bare,

Swifter to smite, and never to spare

Unclothed to the shoulder it waves them on;

Thus in the fight is he ever known :

Others a gaudier garb may show,

To tempt the spoil of the greedy foe ;
Many a hand's on a richer hilt,

780

But none on a steel more ruddily gilt;

Many a loftier turban may wear,—

Alp is but known by the white arm bare;

785

Look through the thick of the fight, 'tis there!

There is not a standard on that shore

So well advanced the ranks before;

There is not a banner in Moslem war

Will lure the Delhis half so far;

790

It glances like a falling star!
Where'er that mighty arm is seen,
The bravest be, or late have been;
There the craven cries for quarter

Vainly to the vengeful Tartar;
Or the hero, silent lying,

Scorns to yield a groan in dying;
Mustering his last feeble blow

'Gainst the nearest levelled foe,

795

Though faint beneath the mutual wound,

800

Grappling on the gory ground.

XXVII.

Still the old man stood erect,
And Alp's career a moment checked.

"Yield thee, Minotti; quarter take,

"For thine own, thy daughter's sake."

805

"Never, renegado, never!

Though the life of thy gift would last for ever."

"Francesca!-Oh my promised bride!

"Must she too perish by thy pride?”

"She is safe.". "Where? where?"- "In heaven; 810

"From whence thy traitor soul is driven—

"Far from thee, and undefiled."

Grimly then Minotti smiled,

As he saw Alp staggering bow

Before his words, as with a blow.

"Oh God! when died she?"—" Yesternight

"Nor weep I for her spirit's flight:

815

"None of my pure race shall be

"Slaves to Mahomet and thee

"Come on!"-That challenge is in vain

820

Through all the palpitating trunk;
Nought of life left, save a quivering
Where his limbs were slightly shivering:
They turned him on his back; his breast

840

And brow were stained with gore and dust,

And through his lips the life-blood oozed,
From its deep veins lately loosed;

But in his pulse there was no throb,

Nor on his lips one dying sob ;

Sigh, nor word, nor struggling breath

Heralded his way to death:

Ere his very thought could pray,

845