Death cometh to the chamber of the sick.
The ruler's daughter, like the peasant's child,
Grows pale as marble. Hark, that hollow moan
Which none may help, and then, the last, faint breath
Subsiding with a shudder!
The loud wail
Bespeaks an idol fallen from the shrine
Of a fond parent's heart. A wither'd flower
Is there, oh mother, where thy proudest hope
Solac'd itself with garlands, and beheld
New buddings every morn. Father, 'tis o'er!
That voice is silent, which had been thy harp,
Quickening thy footstep nightly toward thy home,
Mingling, perchance, an echo all too deep
Even with the temple-worship, when the soul
Should deal with God alone.
What stranger-step
Breaketh the trance of grief? Whose radiant brow
In meekness, and in majesty doth bend
Beside the bed of death?
“She doth but sleep,
The damsel is not dead.”
A smother'd hiss
Contemptuous rises from the wondering band
Who beat the breast and raise the licens'd wail
Of Judah's mourning.
Look upon the dead!
Heaves not the winding-sheet? Those trembling lids—
What peers between their fringes, like the hue
Of dewy violet? The blanch'd lips dispart,
And what a quivering, long-drawn sigh restores
Their rose-leaf beauty! Lo, the clay-cold hand
Graspeth the Master's, and with sudden spring
That shrouded sleeper, like a timid fawn,
Hides in her mother's bosom!
Faith's strong root
Was in the parent's spirit, and its boon
How beautiful!
O mother, who dost gaze
Upon thy daughter, in that deeper sleep
Which threats the soul's salvation, breathe her name
To that Redeemer's ear, both when she smiles
In all her glowing beauty on the morn,
And when, at night, her clustering tresses sweep,
Her downy pillow, in the trance of dreams,
Or when at pleasure's beckoning she goes forth,
Or to the meshes of an earthly love
Yields her young heart! Be eloquent for her!
Take no denial, till that gracious hand
Which rais'd the ruler's dead, give life to her—
That better life, whose wings surmount the tomb!
SKETCHES OF THE HISTORY
AND PRESENT CONDITION OF TRIPOLI, WITH SOME ACCOUNTS OF THE OTHER BARBARY STATES.
NO. XI.
BY ROBERT GREENHOW.
By the evening of the 3d of July, the preparations for the bombardment of the Emperor's castle were completed; ditches had been dug to the extent of more than two thousand yards, and the batteries some of which were within musket shot of the walls, were armed with six sixteen-pounders, ten twenty-four-pounders, four eleven-inch mortars and six nine-inch howitzers. In order to secure themselves against any general attack, the French had likewise established communications between the different bodies of their forces by roads across the field and gardens, while they had barricaded or otherwise fortified the lanes and passes which separated their positions from those of their enemies. All this was done notwithstanding the bold and persevering efforts of the Algerines, who maintained an almost constant though ill-directed fire on the workmen from their batteries, and annoyed them by frequent sorties.
At day break on the morning of the 4th, a rocket was thrown up from the quarters of the French commander as a signal for the commencement of the attack, and all the batteries were instantly opened on the devoted fortress. Its dauntless defenders returned the fire, which they continued for some time with great spirit but with little effect, their balls and shells causing scarcely any damage to the persons or works of the besiegers. The walls of the castle, high and entirely exposed, soon exhibited evidences of the skill of the French artillerists; the materials of which they were built, crumbled under the “iron shower” falling incessantly upon them; and the embrasures, made unnecessarily wide, afforded but little protection either to the guns or to those engaged in serving them.
By eight o'clock the guns of the castle were nearly all dismounted, and the number of its effective defenders had been so much diminished, that it was found necessary to desert the ramparts, and retire within the great tower, which from the thickness of its walls offered at least a temporary security. On this last place of refuge, the Hasnagee hoisted a black flag, in token of his determination to die rather than yield, according to the promise which he had made to his master. He was however released from this promise by a signal from the Casauba indicating the Dey's wish that the fortress should be abandoned; this was accordingly done and the garrison escaped just as the French had effected a practicable breach in its wall. General Hurel who commanded the nearest battery, was then in the act of advancing with his men towards the opening, when suddenly the earth shook, the towers of the castle were seen to totter, flashes of flame and dense clouds of smoke rose above them, and an explosion ensued which momentarily stunned the ardent soldiers. The Algerines, before they evacuated the castle, had fired a slow match communicating with the powder magazines in its vaults, and the last and strongest defence of Algiers was utterly destroyed. As the smoke vanished, the walls of the fortress were seen rent and shattered by the terrible concussion; the great tower was reduced to a few shapeless masses, and the ground in the environs was covered with fragments of wall, corpses and even cannon, which had been projected into the air by the violence of the explosion. The French soon recovered, and rushing forward with shouts of triumph, planted their standard among the smoking ruins; scarcely too was this done, ere the prompt and skilful engineers were directing the workmen to clear away the interior of the place, and stop the breaches in its outward walls, so as to protect it against the assaults of its former possessors. The ruins of the Star fort were also occupied, and preparations were made for erecting batteries on them for the bombardment of the city.
Algiers was now completely exposed; in a few hours the artillery which had so rapidly overwhelmed its strongest defence, would be levelled against the palace of the Dey and the dwellings of the citizens. Hussein and his subjects had done all that men could do in defence of their country; and it was unnecessary farther to provoke a foe who held them at his mercy. At two o'clock Sidi Mustapha, the Dey's private secretary, appeared under a flag of truce at Bourmont's head quarters, to offer on the part of his master, the surrender of those claims against France which had led to the war, as well as the payment of the expenses occasioned by the expedition, provided the French would leave the country. It is scarcely necessary to say that this proposition was rejected with scorn. “I hold in my hand,” was the reply, “the fate of your city; nothing less than its unconditional surrender can save the Dey and inhabitants from being buried in its ruins.” With this answer Mustapha returned to the Casauba, exclaiming, says Bourmont, “When the Algerines are at war with France, they should obtain peace before the evening prayer.” Such a speech may have been uttered by the trembling secretary, but when repeated in the despatch of the victorious general it became a mere fanfaronade.