On the land side, those towers sublime, That seem’d above the grasp of Time, Were sever’d from the haunts of men By a wide, deep, and wizard glen, So fathomless, so full of gloom, No eye could pierce the void between: It seem’d a place where Gholes might come With their foul banquets from the tomb, And in its caverns feed unseen. Like distant thunder, from below, The sound of many torrents came, Too deep for eye or ear to know If ’twere the sea’s imprison’d flow, Or floods of ever-restless flame. For, each ravine, each rocky spire Of that vast mountain stood on fire;[252] And, though for ever past the days When God was worshipp’d in the blaze That from its lofty altar shone,— Though fled the priests, the votaries gone, Still did the mighty flame burn on,[253] Through chance and change, through good and ill, Like its own God’s eternal will, Deep, constant, bright, unquenchable! Thither the vanquish’d HAFED led His little army’s last remains;— “Welcome, terrific glen!” he said, “Thy gloom, that EBLIS’ self might dread, “Is Heaven to him who flies from chains!” O’er a dark, narrow bridge-way, known To him and to his Chiefs alone, They cross’d the chasm and gain’d the towers,— “This home,” he cried, “at least is ours;— “Here we may bleed, unmock’d by hymns “Of Moslem triumph o’er our head; “Here we may fall, nor leave our limbs “To quiver to the Moslem’s tread. “Stretch’d on this rock, while vultures’ beaks “Are whetted on our yet warm cheeks, “Here—happy that no tyrant’s eye “Gloats on our torments—we may die!”—