ONCE a fair city, courted then by king, Mistress of nations, thronged by palaces, Raising her head o’er destiny, her face Glowing with pleasure and with palms refreshed, Now pointed at by Wisdom or by Wealth, Bereft of beauty, bare of ornaments, Stood in the wilderness of woe, Masar. Ere far advancing, all appeared a plain; Treacherous and fearful mountains, far advanced. Her glory so gone down, at human step The fierce hyena frighted from the walls Bristled his rising back, his teeth unsheathed, Drew the long growl and with slow foot retired. Yet were remaining some of ancient race, And ancient arts were now their sole delight: With Time’s first sickle they had marked the hour When at their incantation would the Moon Start back, and shuddering shed blue blasted light. The rifted rays they gathered, and immersed In potent portion of that wondrous wave, Which, hearing rescued Israel, stood erect, And led her armies through his crystal gates. Hither (none shared her way, her counsel none) Hied the Masarian Dalica: ’twas night, And the still breeze fell languid on the waste. She, tired with journey long and ardent thoughts Stopped; and before the city she descried A female form emerge above the sands. Intent she fixed her eyes, and on herself Relying, with fresh vigour bent her way; Nor disappeared the woman, but exclaimed, One hand retaining tight her folded vest, “Stranger, who loathest life, there lies Masar. Begone, nor tarry longer, or ere morn The cormorant in his solitary haunt Of insulated rock or sounding cove Stands on thy bleachéd bones and screams for prey. My lips can scatter them a hundred leagues, So shrivelled in one breath as all the sands We tread on could not in as many years. Wretched who die nor raise their sepulchre! Therefore begone.” But Dalica unawed (Though in her withered but still firm right-hand Held up with imprecations hoarse and deep Glimmered her brazen sickle, and enclosed Within its figured curve the fading moon) Spake thus aloud. “By yon bright orb of Heaven, In that most sacred moment when her beam Guided first thither by the forkéd shaft, Strikes through the crevice of Arishtah’s tower—” “Sayst thou?” astonished cried the sorceress, “Woman of outer darkness, fiend of death, From what inhuman cave, what dire abyss, Hast thou invisible that spell o’erheard? What potent hand hath touched thy quickened corse, What song dissolved thy cerements, who unclosed Those faded eyes and filled them from the stars? But if with inextinguished light of life Thou breathest, soul and body unamerced, Then whence that invocation? who hath dared Those hallowed words, divulging, to profane?” Dalica cried, “To heaven, not earth, addressed, Prayers for protection cannot be profane.”