The Works of Lord Byron. Vol. 3Byron, George Gordon Byron, Baron
General
The Works of Lord Byron. Vol. 3
Byron, George Gordon Byron, Baron
English poetry
A hearth in her mansions, a stone on her walls.
God and the prophet--Alla Hu![380]
Up to the skies with that wild halloo!
"There the breach lies for passage, the ladder to scale;
And your hands on your sabres, and how should ye fail?
He who first downs with the red cross may crave[381]
His heart's dearest wish; let him ask it, and have!"
Thus uttered Coumourgi, the dauntless Vizier;[382]
The reply was the brandish of sabre and spear, 720
And the shout of fierce thousands in joyous ire:--
Silence--hark to the signal--fire!
XXIII.
As the wolves, that headlong go
On the stately buffalo,
Though with fiery eyes, and angry roar,
And hoofs that stamp, and horns that gore,
He tramples on earth, or tosses on high
The foremost, who rush on his strength but to die
Thus against the wall they went,
Thus the first were backward bent;[383] 730
Many a bosom, sheathed in brass,
Strewed the earth like broken glass,[qd]
Shivered by the shot, that tore
The ground whereon they moved no more:
Even as they fell, in files they lay,
Like the mower's grass at the close of day,[qe]
When his work is done on the levelled plain;
Such was the fall of the foremost slain.[384]
XXIV.
As the spring-tides, with heavy plash,
From the cliffs invading dash 740
Huge fragments, sapped by the ceaseless flow,
Till white and thundering down they go,
Like the avalanche's snow
On the Alpine vales below;
Thus at length, outbreathed and worn,
Corinth's sons were downward borne
By the long and oft renewed
Charge of the Moslem multitude.
In firmness they stood, and in masses they fell,
Heaped by the host of the Infidel, 750
Hand to hand, and foot to foot:
Nothing there, save Death, was mute;[385]
Stroke, and thrust, and flash, and cry
For quarter, or for victory,
Mingle there with the volleying thunder,
Which makes the distant cities wonder
How the sounding battle goes,
If with them, or for their foes;
If they must mourn, or may rejoice
In that annihilating voice, 760
Which pierces the deep hills through and through
With an echo dread and new:
You might have heard it, on that day,
O'er Salamis and Megara;
(We have heard the hearers say,)[qf]
Even unto Piræus' bay.
XXV.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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