Who leads the invaders on?--his features bear The deep-worn traces of a calm despair; Yet his dark brow is haughty--and his eye Speaks of a soul that asks not sympathy. ’Tis he! ’tis he again! the apostate chief; He comes in all the sternness of his grief. He comes, but changed in heart, no more to wield Falchion for proud Castile in battle-field, Against his country’s children though he leads Castilian bands again to hostile deeds: His hope is but from ceaseless pangs to fly, To rush upon the Moslem spears, and die. So shall remorse and love the heart release, Which dares not dream of joy, but sighs for peace. The mountain-echoes are awake--a sound Of strife is ringing through the rocks around. Within the steep defile that winds between Cliffs piled on cliffs, a dark, terrific scene, Where Moorish exile and Castilian knight Are wildly mingling in the serried fight. Red flows the foaming streamlet of the glen, Whose bright transparence ne’er was stain’d till then; While swell the war-note and the clash of spears To the bleak dwellings of the mountaineers, Where thy sad daughters, lost Granada! wait In dread suspense the tidings of their fate. But he--whose spirit, panting for its rest, Would fain each sword concentrate in his breast-- Who, where a spear is pointed, or a lance Aim’d at another’s breast, would still advance-- Courts death in vain; each weapon glances by, As if for him ’twere bliss too great to die. Yes, Aben-Zurrah! there are deeper woes Reserved for thee ere nature’s last repose; Thou know’st not yet what vengeance fate can wreak, Nor all the heart can suffer ere it break. Doubtful and long the strife, and bravely fell The sons of battle in that narrow dell; Youth in its light of beauty there hath pass’d, And age, the weary, found repose at last; Till, few and faint, the Moslem tribes recoil, Borne down by numbers and o’erpower’d by toil. Dispersed, dishearten’d, through the pass they fly, Pierce the deep wood, or mount the cliff on high; While Hamet’s band in wonder gaze, nor dare Track o’er their dizzy path the footsteps of despair.