The empire from Selim is passing away:
Ho! up with Mustapha! Death waits on delay!
The morning that broke on the spires of Salles
Saw his ships ride triumphant upon the blue sea;
But the foam of the waves, ere the noon, was made red
With the blood of the wounded, the dying and dead.
They came from the mountains, as sand on the gale
That sweeps o’er Zahara, his throne to assail;
The fierce Otazi and the stern Almohade
Were kind, to the war-bands that follow El Said.