The curses which he mocked had caught him by Sunk in a gulf of scorn from which none may him the hair.
I led him forth from that which now might seem A gorgeous grave: through portals sculptured deep With imagery beautiful as dream
We went, and left the shades which tend on sleep Over its unregarded gold to keep
Their silent watch.-The child trod faintingly, And, as she went, the tears which she did weep Glanced in the star-light; wildered seemed she, And when I spake, for sobs she could not answer
At last the tyrant cried, " She hungers, slave!
Stab her, or give her bread!"-It was a tone
Such as sick fancies in a new-made grave
Might hear. I trembled, for the truth was known,
He with this child had thus been left alone,
And neither had gone forth for food, but he
In mingled pride and awe cowered near his throne,
And she, a nursling of captivity,
Knew nought beyond those walls, nor what such
change might be.
And he was troubled at a charm withdrawn
Thus suddenly; that sceptres ruled no more-
That even from gold the dreadful strength was gone
Which once made all things subject to its power-
Such wonder seized him, as if hour by hour
The past had come again; and the swift fall
Of one so great and terrible of yore
To desolateness, in the hearts of all
Then was heard-He who judged let him be brought
To judgment! Blood for blood cries from the soil
On which his crimes have deep pollution wrought!
Shall Othman only unavenged despoil?
Shall they, who by the stress of grinding toil
Wrest from the unwilling earth his luxuries,
Perish for crime, while his foul blood may boil,
Or creep within his veins at will?-Arise!
And to high justice make her chosen sacrifice.
"What do ye seek? what fear ye?" then I cried,
Suddenly starting forth," that ye should shed
The blood of Othman-if your hearts are tried
In the true love of freedom, cease to dread
This one poor lonely man-beneath Heaven shed
In purest light above us all, through earth,
Maternal earth, who doth her sweet smiles spread
For all, let him go free; until the worth
Of human nature win from these a second birth.
"What call ye justice? Is there one who ne'er
In secret thought has wished another's ill?—
Are ye all pure? Let those stand forth who hear,
And tremble not. Shall they insult and kill,
If such they be? their mild eyes can they fill
With the false anger of the hypocrite?
Alas, such were not pure-the chastened will
Of virtue sees that justice is the light
Like wonder stirred, who saw such awful change Of love, and not revenge, and terror and despite." befal.
A mighty crowd, such as the wide land pours
Once in a thousand years, now gathered round
The fallen tyrant;-like the rush of showers
Of hail in spring, pattering along the ground,
Their many footsteps fell, else came no sound
From the wide multitude: that lonely man
Then knew the burthen of his change, and found,
Concealing in the dust his visage wan,
The murmur of the people, slowly dying,
Paused as I spake; then those who near me were,
Cast gentle looks where the lone man was lying
Shrouding his head, which now that infant fair
Clasped on her lap in silence;-through the air
Sobs were then heard, and many kissed my feet
In pity's madness, and, to the despair
Of him whom late they cursed, a solace sweet
Refuge from the keen looks which thro' his bosom His very victims brought-soft looks and speeches
Then to a home, for his repose assigned, Accompanied by the still throng he went In silence, where, to soothe his rankling mind, Some likeness of his ancient state was lent; And, if his heart could have been innocent As those who pardoned him, he might have ended His days in peace; but his straight lips were bent, Men said, into a smile which guile portended, A sight with which that child like hope with fear was blended.