In suffering man he could not find a foe, 12 And the mild hand clasp'd that which yearn'd to kill! "Ha," gasp'd the gazing savage, "dost thou know That I had doom'd thee in thy sleep?--that still My soul would doom thee, could my hand obey?-- Wake thou, stern goddess--seize thyself the prey!" "Serv'st thou a goddess," said the wondering King, 13 "Whose rites ask innocent blood?--O brother, learn In heaven, in earth, in each created thing, One God, whom all call 'FATHER' to discern!" "Can thy God suffer thy God's foe to live?"-- "God once had foes, and said to man, 'Forgive!'" The Christian answer'd. Dream-like the mild words 14 Fell on the ear, as sense again gave way To swooning sleep; which woke but with the birds In the cold clearness of the dawning day.-- Strung by that sleep, the savage scowl'd around; Why droops his head? Kind hands his wounds have bound. Lonely he stood, and miss'd that tender foe 15 The wolf's glazed eye-ball mutely met his own; Beyond, the pine-brand sent its sullen glow, Circling blood-red the awful altar-stone; Blood-red, as sinks the sun, from land afar, Ere tempests wreck the Amalfian mariner; Or as, when Mars sits in the House of Death 16 For doom'd Aleppo, on the hopeless Moor Glares the fierce orb from skies without a breath, While the chalk'd signal on the abhorred door Tells that the Pestilence is come!--the pine Unheeded wastes upon the hideous shrine; The priest returns not;--from its giant throne, 17 The idol calls in vain:--its realm is o'er; The Dire Religion flies the altar-stone, For love has breathed on what was hate before. Lured by man's heart, by man's kind deeds subdued, Him who had pardon'd, he who wrong'd pursued. Meanwhile speeds on the Saxon chase, behind;-- 18 Baffled at first, and doubling to and fro, At last, the war-dogs, snorting, seize the wind, Burst on the scent, which gathers as they go; Day wanes, night comes; the star succeeds the sun, To light the hunt until the quarry's won. At the first grey of dawn, they halt before 19 The fretted arches of the giant caves; For here the tides rush full upon the shore. The failing scent is snatch'd amidst the waves,-- Waves block the entrance of the gorge unseen; And roar, hoarse-surging, up the pent ravine. And worn, and spent, and panting, flag the steeds, 20 With mail and man bow'd down; nor meet to breast The hell of waters, whence no pathway leads, And which no plummet sounds;--Reluctant rest Checks the pursuit, till sullenly and slow Back, threatening still, the hosts of Ocean go,--