“Or could this heart e’en now forget “How link’d, how bless’d we might have been, “Had fate not frown’d so dark between! “Hadst thou been born a Persian maid, “In neighbouring valleys had we dwelt, “Through the same fields in childhood play’d, “At the same kindling altar knelt,— “Then, then, while all those nameless ties, “In which the charm of Country lies, “Had round our hearts been hourly spun, “Till IRAN’S cause and thine were one; “While in thy lute’s awakening sigh “I heard the voice of days gone by, “And saw, in every smile of thine, “Returning hours of glory shine;— “While the wrong’d Spirit of our Land “Liv’d, look’d, and spoke her wrongs through thee,— “God! who could then this sword withstand? “Its very flash were victory! “But now—estrang’d, divorc’d for ever, “Far as the grasp of Fate can sever; “Our only ties what love has wove,— “In faith, friends, country, sunder’d wide; “And then, then only, true to love, “When false to all that’s dear beside! “Thy father IRAN’S deadliest foe— “Thyself perhaps, even now—but no— “Hate never look’d so lovely yet! “No—sacred to thy soul will be “The land of him who could forget “All but that bleeding land for thee. “When other eyes shall see, unmov’d, “Her widows mourn, her warriors fall, “Thou’lt think how well one Gheber lov’d, “And for _his_ sake thou’lt weep for all! “But look⸺” With sudden start he turn’d And pointed to the distant wave, Where lights, like charnel meteors, burn’d Bluely, as o’er some seaman’s grave; And fiery darts, at intervals,[234] Flew up all sparkling from the main, As if each star that nightly falls, Were shooting back to heaven again. “My signal lights!—I must away— “Both, both are ruin’d, if I stay. “Farewell—sweet life! thou cling’st in vain— “Now, Vengeance, I am thine again!” Fiercely he broke away, nor stopp’d, Nor look’d—but from the lattice dropp’d Down ’mid the pointed crags beneath, As if he fled from love to death. While pale and mute young HINDA stood Nor mov’d, till in the silent flood A momentary plunge below Startled her from her trance of woe;— Shrieking she to the lattice flew, “I come—I come—if in that tide “Thou sleep’st to-night, I’ll sleep there too, “In death’s cold wedlock, by thy side. “Oh! I would ask no happier bed “Than the chill wave my love lies under:— “Sweeter to rest together dead, “Far sweeter, than to live asunder!” But no—their hour is not yet come— Again she sees his pinnace fly, Wafting him fleetly to his home, Where’er that ill-starr’d home may lie; And calm and smooth it seem’d to win Its moonlight way before the wind, As if it bore all peace within, Nor left one breaking heart behind! ------------------------------------------------------------------------