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"O Lord! we would not advise ; But if in thy Providence

A tempest should arise

To drive the French Fleet hence,
And scatter it far and wide,
Or sink it in the sea,
We should be satisfied,
And thine the glory be."

This was the prayer I made,

For my soul was all on flame, And even as I prayed

The answering tempest came ; It came with a mighty power,

Shaking the windows and walls, And tolling the bell in the tower, As it tolls at funerals.

The lightning suddenly

Unsheathed its flaming sword, And I cried: "Stand still, and see The salvation of the Lord!" The heavens were black with cloud, The sea was white with hail, And ever more fierce and loud Blew the October gale.

The fleet it overtook,

And the broad sails in the van
Like the tents of Cushan shook,
Or the curtains of Midian.
Down on the reeling decks
Crashed the o'erwhelming seas;
Ah, never were there wrecks
So pitiful as these!

Like a potter's vessel broke

The great ships of the line;

They were carried away as a smoke,
Or sank like lead in the brine.
O Lord! before thy path

They vanished and ceased to be,
When thou didst walk in wrath

With thine horses through the sea!

THE LEAP OF ROUSHAN BEG

MOUNTED on Kyrat strong and fleet,
His chestnut steed with four white feet,
Roushan Beg, called Kurroglou,
Son of the road and bandit chief,
Seeking refuge and relief,

Up the mountain pathway flew.

Such was Kyrat's wondrous speed,
Never yet could any steed

Reach the dust-cloud in his course. More than maiden, more than wife, More than gold and next to life

Roushan the Robber loved his horse.

In the land that lies beyond
Erzeroum and Trebizond,
Garden-girt his fortress stood;
Plundered khan, or caravan
Journeying north from Koordistan,
Gave him wealth and wine and food.

Seven hundred and fourscore
Men at arms his livery wore,

Did his bidding night and day; Now, through regions all unknown, He was wandering, lost, alone, Seeking without guide his way.

Suddenly the pathway ends,
Sheer the precipice descends,

Loud the torrent roars unseen;
Thirty feet from side to side
Yawns the chasm; on air must ride
He who crosses this ravine.

Following close in his pursuit,
At the precipice's foot

Reyhan the Arab of Orfah
Halted with his hundred men,
Shouting upward from the glen,
"La Illáh illa Alláh !"

Gently Roushan Beg caressed
Kyrat's forehead, neck, and breast;
Kissed him upon both his eyes,
Sang to him in his wild way,
As upon the topmost spray
Sings a bird before it flies.

"O my Kyrat, O my steed,
Round and slender as a reed,

Carry me this peril through! Satin housings shall be thine, Shoes of gold, O Kyrat mine,

O thou soul of Kurroglou !

"Soft thy skin as silken skein, Soft as woman's hair thy mane,

Tender are thine eyes and true; All thy hoofs like ivory shine, Polished bright; O life of mine,

Leap, and rescue Kurroglou !"

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