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One cry from the destroyed and the destroyer
hearts, As the sun drinks the dew.-What more? We
fled !Our noonday path over the sanguine foam Was beaconed,—and the glare struck the sun
pale,By our consuming transports: the fierce light Made all the shadows of our sails blood-red, And every countenance blank. Some ships lay
feeding The ravening fire, even to the water's level; 510 Some were blown up; some, settling heavily, Sunk; and the shrieks of our companions
died Upon the wind, that bore us fast and far, Even after they were dead. Nine thousand
perished ! We met the vultures legioned in the air Stemming the torrent of the tainted wind; They, screaming from their cloudy mountain
peaks, Stooped through the sulphurous battle-smoke
and perched Each on the weltering carcase that we loved, Like its ill angel or its damned soul 520 Riding upon the bosom of the sea. We saw the dog-fish hastening to their feast.
Joy waked the voiceless people of the sea,
Your Sublime Highness, That Christian hound the Muscovite Ambas
sador Has left the city. If the rebel fleet Had anchored in the port, had victory 530 Crowned the Greek legions in the Hippodrome, Panic were tamer.-Obedience and Mutiny, Like giants in contention planet-struck, Stand gazing on each other.—There is peace In Stamboul.
Is the grave not calmer still? Its ruins shall be mine.
After the war is fought, yield the sleek Russian That which thou canst not keep, his deserved
portion Of blood, which shall not flow through streets
and fields, Rivers and seas, like that which we may win, But stagnate in the veins of Christian slaves !
Enter second Messenger.
SECOND MESSENGER. Nauplia, Tripolizza, Mothon, Athens, Navarin, Artas, Monembasia, Corinth and Thebes are carried by assault, And every Islamite who made his dogs Fat with the flesh of Galilean slaves 550 Passed at the edge of the sword: the lust of
blood, Which made our warriors drunk, is quenched
in death; But like a fiery plague breaks out anew In deeds which make the Christian cause look
pale In its own light. The garrison of Patras Has store but for ten days, nor is there hope But from the Briton : at once slave and tyrant His wishes still are weaker than his fears, Or he would sell what faith may yet remain From the oaths broke in Genoa and in Norway; And if you buy him not, your treasury 561 Is empty even of promises his own coin. The freedman of a western poet chief Holds Attica with seven thousand rebels, And has beat back the Pacha of Negropont: The agèd Ali sits in Yanina A crownless metaphor of empire: His name, that shadow of his withered might,
Holds our besieging army like a spell
Enter a third Messenger.
The Christian tribes
veins Catch the volcano-fire and earthquake spasm, Shake in the general fever. Through the city, Like birds before a storm, the Santons shriek; And prophesyings horrible and new 592 Are heard among the crowd: that sea of men Sleeps on the wrecks it made, breathless and still. A Dervise, learned in the Koran, preaches
i Virgins sent annually to replenish the Sultan's seraglio.-ED.
That it is written how the sins of Islam
dead. The last news from the camp is, that a thousand Have sickened, and—
Enter a fourth Messenger.
And thou, pale ghost, dim shadow Of some untimely rumour, speak ! FOURTH MESSENGER.
One comes Fainting with toil, covered with foam and blood : He stood, he says, upon Chelonites' 620 Promontory, which o’erlooks the isles that groan Under the Briton's frown, and all their waters Then trembling in the splendour of the moon,