“But these,” pursued the Chief, “are truths sublime, “That claim a holier mood and calmer time “Than earth allows us now;—this sword must first “The darkling prison-house of Mankind burst “Ere Peace can visit them, or Truth let in “Her wakening daylight on a world of sin. “But then, celestial warriors, then, when all “Earth’s shrines and thrones before our banner fall; “When the glad Slave shall at these feet lay down “His broken chain, the tyrant Lord his crown, “The Priest his book, the Conqueror his wreath, “And from the lips of Truth one mighty breath “Shall, like a whirlwind, scatter in its breeze “That whole dark pile of human mockeries;— “Then shall the reign of mind commence on earth, “And starting fresh, as from a second birth, “Man, in the sunshine of the world’s new spring, “Shall walk transparent, like some holy thing! “Then, too, your Prophet from his angel brow “Shall cast the Veil that hides its splendours now, “And gladden’d Earth shall, through her wide expanse, “Bask in the glories of this countenance!— “For thee, young warrior, welcome!—thou hast yet “Some tasks to learn, some frailties to forget, “Ere the white war-plume o’er thy brow can wave;— “But, once my own, mine all till in the grave!” The pomp is at an end—the crowds are gone— Each ear and heart still haunted by the tone Of that deep voice, which thrilled like ALLA’S own! The Young all dazzled by the plumes and lances, The glittering throne, and Haram’s half-caught glances; The Old deep pondering on the promis’d reign Of peace and truth; and all the female train Ready to risk their eyes, could they but gaze A moment on that brow’s miraculous blaze! But there was one, among the chosen maids, Who blush’d behind the gallery’s silken shades, One, to whose soul the pageant of to-day Has been like death:—you saw her pale dismay, Ye wondering sisterhood, and heard the burst Of exclamation from her lips, when first She saw that youth, too well, too dearly known, Silently kneeling at the Prophet’s throne.