III.
The hotly-beaming orb of noon-day’s sky,
Illum’d green Caymyr with his golden eye,
And cast a mellowing splendour, warm and bright,
O’er many a scene of beauty and delight.
Here the soft waters gliding, like the hours,
Through balmy banks of variegated flow’rs;
And here the camp, and here the martial train,
That, like himself, cast lustre on the plain:
And there, o’er yon wide hill, that grove of trees,
That fling their fragrance t’ th’ enamour’d breeze;90
While where they leave an op’ning, give to view
Some tow’r, or temple, proudly frowning through:—
All seem’d as if in Union’s silken bands,
Young Love, and glorious War, had met to join their hands.
But through that num’rous army, rude commotion
Was like the storm that ruffles o’er the ocean;
Though louder, wilder was the mingled sound
Of thousand tongues that echoed o’er the ground;
The whisper’d murder, or the bolder cry
Of stern upbraiding, or of mutiny.100
And whence is this?—Their youthful chief alone
Is gone! but when—or where—to all unknown.
His tent is search’d, that night was pass’d not there,
His couch untouch’d, his absent steed, declare:
Throughout the camp, throughout the martial train,
They seek high Ismael,—but they seek in vain.
In anger stern, the chiefs together came,
Suspicion black’ning o’er their leader’s name.
In speaking silence, each glanc’d round on each,
All loath alike to be the first in speech110
To vent his wrath.—At length, each rolling eye
Is turn’d on one, who stands indignant by:
Bold was that chief, through all that conq’ring band
Not one surpassed the prowess of his hand.
But fierce in temper, “turbulent in tongue,”
He lov’d to lead the factions of the throng:
Abbas, his name. Rage sparkling in his eyes,
He mark’d the chiefs, and thus the warrior cries;—
“Say, is it meet, that here, while squadrons stand
“To fight and conquer at a boy’s command;120
“He, he the cause, the leader of the fray,
“Is gone in secret, fled, perchance, away?
“Say, is it meet, that we, whose rank and fame,
“Would some respect from mightier chieftains claim;
“Should thus be treated with contemptuous scorn;
“By Mahomet, ’tis no longer to be borne!
“Nor shall ye bear it! rouse, and let us own
“This wretch unworthy of so great a throne.”
Thus far he said, when to the listening heav’n
A long, loud shout of “Ismael! Ismael” ’s given.130
All that wide camp re-echoed with the name,
So high in glory, and so dear to fame.
And now towards the chieftain’s ample tent,
The clanging sounds of scouring steed are bent.
And each on each the assembled leaders gaze,
Fix’d to their stations in profound amaze.
IV.
And Ismael enter’d on that busy scene,
With bearing princely, and with brow serene;
Saluting all around with regal grace,
He took his station in the vacant place.140
Straight to the earth, was bent each look of shame;
Straight o’er each cheek, the tingling colour came;
So motionless was ev’ry chieftain there,
That scarce a breathing died upon the car.
High Ismael rose!—in language short and cold,
Began th’ adventures of the night t’ unfold.
The cause of all, alone forbears to tell,
His seeking her his bosom lov’d so well.
Nor had he finished his narration brief,
Ere the fierce rage of Abbas, haughty chief!150
That rage, which scarce had been restrain’d till now,
Burst like the flamings of red Ætna’s brow:—
“Go hence, thou liar! hence, thou smooth-tongued youth!
“To other ears go take thy tale of truth,
“For here ’tis not believ’d! Yet grant it true,
“What mighty aim could Ismael have in view,
“To leave his army on the very night
“Before he meant to lead it to the fight?
“Why should that gaoler too, in spite of danger
“Of his own life, free thee, to him a stranger?160
“And though I grant thy courser’s speed from here,
“In a few hours to Tauris’ walls, might bear,
“Yet, as that steed was captur’d, or was slain
“In combat with Alvante’s troops, again,
“How in so short a time did’st thou return,
“For when thou quitted thence, ’twas near the morn?
“Think’st thou, that Persia’s mightier sons will be
“The dupes of falsehood, and the slaves of thee?
“Perish the thought; this arm shall ne’er permit
“So base a wretch on Iran’s throne to sit.170
“’Tis my resolve!”—“And mine! and mine!” was sent
From ev’ry quarter of the crowded tent:
As up the chieftains rose, the sudden glare
Of hundred sabres glimmer’d in the air.
‘And, traitor, this is mine,’ high Ismael cries,
Death on his brow, and fury in his eyes;
As flash’d his weapon forth, and through the head
Of Abbas, down e’en to the mouth it sped.
He fell:—o’er Ismael’s eye th’ expression came
Of pitying softness, conq’ring wrathful flame:180
He dropt the blade,—he sigh’d,—for he could glow
In soft compassion o’er a fallen foe.