“Sultan of Persia, whose wide-spreading sway,
“With trembling awe an universe obey,
“List to thine humble slave!—As with this band
“I view’d afar green Caymyr’s fragrant land,
“And saw with horror, on its flow’ry plain,
“The rebel Ismael’s far-extending train,
“We met this youth; and on his breast the star,350
“Which marks the chiefs of Ismael’s impious war:
“We rush upon him!—in thy name command
“To yield his person to his Sultan’s band.
“No answer made he!—spurr’d his Arab horse,
“Bar’d his keen blade!—on us his driving course
“He dash’d impetuous;—we around him close,
“And pour on every side an iron show’r of blows.
“But he, his flashing sabre sweeping round,
“Roll’d four brave Moslems on the verdant ground:
“Then broke his weapon; or, perchance, his might
“Had brought him safely through th’ unequal fight.
“Then, as on some fair tree descends the storm,
“So rush’d our valiant soldiers on his form.
“But, when life hung upon that slender thread,
“I rear’d my sabre o’er his fenceless head:
“For I admir’d his courage, and I thought,
“If thus for Ismael he so bravely fought,
“His martial prowess, and his weighty hand,
“Might prove some succour to our Sultan’s band.”
He ceas’d:—Alvante, from his brows of pride,370
With wond’ring glance the youthful hero ey’d;
“What say’st thou, slave,” began the low’ring king;
‘Slave, in thy teeth the dastard word I fling,’
Exclaim’d the youth; ‘no crouching craven I;
‘Brave as thou art, of name perhaps as high!
‘Wert thou and I, upon some desert place,
‘Where, save our own, was never human trace,
‘This arm perchance might teach thee, to thy wo,
‘That it could deal no slave’s ignoble blow.’
In patient silence stern Alvante heard380
The youthful stranger’s fierce defying word;
Again with darkling eye he scann’d him o’er,
And certain grew the doubts he had before;
Then beam’d his joy in that dark-glowing hue,
That instant o’er his haughty features grew;
His hand half-drew the sabre from his side;
“Now, by my faith, ’tis Ismael’s self,” he cried:
“Prophet, I thank thee, that this glorious hour,
“My only dread is plac’d within my pow’r.389
“Guards, instant bring the bow-string—he shall die;
“His dying agonies shall glut mine eye:
“No, hold—the traitor shall not yield his breath
“By pang so short, and by so mild a death:
“Convey him to the darkest dungeon!—there
“Leave him, to nurse the horrors of despair,
“Whilst we devise some torture dire and new,
“Dreadful as man e’er felt, or demon knew;
“That, ere the chariot of the sun shall roll,
“Shall rack his form, and madden all his soul.”
With glance disdainful, and majestic pride,400
The tyrant’s frowns high Ismael scornful ey’d.
Then calmly turn’d away, and greater far
Than when in all the pomps of prosp’rous war,
Leaving, with footsteps firm, the regal room,
The guards he follow’d to his dungeon’s gloom.
ISMAEL.
CANTO II.
“Let those who rule on Persia’s jewell’d throne,
“Be fam’d for love, and gentlest love alone,
“Or twine, like Abbas, full of fair renown,
“The lover’s myrtle with the warrior’s crown.”
Collins’s Oriental Eclogues.