And foaming rush’d along the vale;
The Lascar watch’d, with stedfast eyes,
The flash descending quick and pale;
And now again the cavalcade
Pass’d slowly near the upland glade;—
But He was dark, and dark the scene,
The torches long extinct had been;
He call’d, but, in the stormy hour,
His feeble voice had lost its pow’r,
’Till, near a tree, beside the flood,