He stood--some dread was on his face, Soon Hatred settled in its place: It rose not with the reddening flush Of transient Anger's hasty blush,[cy][69] But pale as marble o'er the tomb, Whose ghastly whiteness aids its gloom. His brow was bent, his eye was glazed; 240 He raised his arm, and fiercely raised, And sternly shook his hand on high, As doubting to return or fly;[cz] Impatient of his flight delayed, Here loud his raven charger neighed-- Down glanced that hand, and grasped his blade; That sound had burst his waking dream, As Slumber starts at owlet's scream. The spur hath lanced his courser's sides; Away--away--for life he rides: 250 Swift as the hurled on high jerreed[70] Springs to the touch his startled steed; The rock is doubled, and the shore Shakes with the clattering tramp no more; The crag is won, no more is seen His Christian crest and haughty mien. 'Twas but an instant he restrained That fiery barb so sternly reined;[da] 'Twas but a moment that he stood, Then sped as if by Death pursued; 260 But in that instant o'er his soul Winters of Memory seemed to roll, And gather in that drop of time A life of pain, an age of crime. O'er him who loves, or hates, or fears, Such moment pours the grief of years:[db] What felt _he_ then, at once opprest By all that most distracts the breast? That pause, which pondered o'er his fate, Oh, who its dreary length shall date! 270 Though in Time's record nearly nought, It was Eternity to Thought![71] For infinite as boundless space The thought that Conscience must embrace, Which in itself can comprehend Woe without name, or hope, or end.[72] The hour is past, the Giaour is gone: And did he fly or fall alone?[dc] Woe to that hour he came or went! The curse for Hassan's sin was sent 280 To turn a palace to a tomb; He came, he went, like the Simoom,[73] That harbinger of Fate and gloom, Beneath whose widely-wasting breath The very cypress droops to death-- Dark tree, still sad when others' grief is fled, The only constant mourner o'er the dead!