But whither now? their track is lost, Their prey escap’d—guide, torches gone— By torrent-beds and labyrinths crost, The scatter’d crowd rush blindly on— “Curse on those tardy lights that wind,” They panting cry, “so far behind; “Oh for a bloodhound’s precious scent, “To track the way the Gheber went!” Vain wish—confusedly along They rush, more desperate as more wrong: Till, wilder’d by the far-off lights, Yet glittering up those gloomy heights, Their footing, maz’d and lost, they miss, And down the darkling precipice Are dash’d into the deep abyss; Or midway hang, impal’d on rocks, A banquet, yet alive, for flocks Of ravening vultures,—while the dell Re-echoes with each horrible yell. Those sounds—the last to vengeance dear, That e’er shall ring in HAFED’S ear,— Now reached him, as aloft, alone, Upon the steep way breathless thrown, He lay beside his reeking blade, Resign’d, as if life’s task were o’er, Its last blood-offering amply paid, And IRAN’S self could claim no more. One only thought, one lingering beam Now broke across his dizzy dream Of pain and weariness—’twas she, His heart’s pure planet, shining yet Above the waste of memory, When all life’s other lights were set. And never to his mind before Her image such enchantment wore. It seem’d as if each thought that stain’d, Each fear that chill’d their loves was past, And not one cloud of earth remain’d Between him and her radiance cast;— As if to charms, before so bright, New grace from other worlds was given, And his soul saw her by the light Now breaking o’er itself from heaven!