She saw the pillow she had prest
With red and glowing moisture reek,
The blood-perhaps of Selim's breast!
Yet had she not the power to fly
From the fell sight that met her eye.
But lay with such chill horror there
As the lost wretch is doom'd to bear
Who, faint and bleeding on the plain,
Whence, whence he ne'er shall rise again,
Beholds around his festering form
The carcase-loving vultures swarm,
And every moment perch more near,
Losing their own, doubling his fear;
And when the feeblest cry-a wave,
The lightest of his hand-would save
From the fell prey-bird's famish'd beak,
Nor arm can stir, nor tongue can speak.
She felt upon that gory couch

Her soul beneath its horrors crouch,
As sinks the heart of him who lies,

Escaped from shipwreck, on the strand,—
Alas! without the strength to rise!-
And sees the encroaching wave dash o'er
A wider portion of the shore,

And sweep from off the shelving sand The nearest pebbles to the brim, Knowing 'twill next return for him. Her wilder'd glance in vain was wandering Amongst the crowd that round her drew;

On every warlike visage pondering,

It could not fix on one she knew.

"Oh, Alla!" then she inly said,

"Has the bolt fall'n on Selim's head? "It has, it has, for well I know

"His sire was chieftain of the foe; "And he must sure have sunk in fight; "Or never would this sickening sight "His loved one here disgust and fright ;"Oh! long ere this his step had sped "To bear me from this place of dread, "Which, dreary as it is, were heaven "If his loved presence here was given." But no; not yet was Selim's fate

So dreadful as her terrors painted,Nor yet his soul had past the gate

That opes to the Moslem by sin untainted; But half on heaven's bright way had flown To claim its high and star-gemm'd throne, When as it cast one fond glance back On her it left so sad and lone

It straight resumed its earthward track.
Yes-nought but she could render life
Endurable, nay, wish'd for too,
When crawling from the scene of strife,
Bathed in the blood of those he slew,
Mix'd with his own breast's crimson dew,

He long lay lingering on the plain,
Grasp'd in the demon-clutch of pain.
His was a maddening agony
That bids all thought, all reason, fly;
And the strong consciousness of one
Who breathed for him, and him alone,
M

Whose life with his was intertwined,
Had more of instinct than of mind;
As midst the phantasms of a dream,
View'd but by Fancy's wildering gleam,
One well-known form is brightly spied,
When all are dark and strange beside.
Yet Selim dreamt not ;-ne'er could sleep
The suffering in oblivion steep.
His rest unnumber'd blades had pierced,
But miss'd his life, and well, in sooth,
Was every thrust with gain amerced
By the swift arm of that bold youth.
But he was bent on nobler prey,
And ever since the light of day

First broke on shining lance and mail,
Whose whiteness made the morn look pale;
There where the bickering blade flash'd quickest,
Where the dark shower of death fell thickest,
Onward he prest, with all the zeal

A bridegroom's throbbing heart can feel,
Rushing to clasp his passion's prize,
The cause and soother of his sighs;
With such an ecstacy of wrath

He flies to cross dread Osman's path,
And, as each mouldering fragment falls,
Fears lest the rent and rocking walls
Entomb within a grave of stone

Their lord, whose head he counts his own.
He knew the bower where Zella pined
Hung o'er the verge of the dark sea,
And, were all else to flame consign'd,
Would still unscorch'd, unshaken be.

Like one small nest on a topmost bough,
When ev'ry branch is lopp'd below...
So nought of fear for her loved sake
Could then his thirst for vengeance slake,
And on he burst through foeman's rank,
And as the giant turrets sank,

And roll'd across his bloody track

Their crushing fragments huge and black;
He o'er the vain obstruction sprang,
And through the domes his loud voice rang,
On Osman's hated name still calling,
Nor heard the ruins round him falling,
That seem'd to wait but till he past.
"Bismillah! he is found at last !"
Yes, it was Osman with a brow
That never look'd so stern as now;
Though smear'd with many a gory soil,
Unwearied with the murderous toil,
It lower'd on Selim such a scowl
As hungry wolves, who nightly prowl
For human prey, with startling howl,
Fix on the traveller straggling near,
And kill him, basilisk-like, with fear.
"Twas such a dark and envious frown
As Eblis wore, when looking down

From Eden's wall, he saw the first
Fair shape of man, and deem'd his own
Then doubly hideous and accurst;

For if a face in anger seen

Can aught of beauty still retain,

If the far west with evening sheen

Beams lovely through the darkening rain,

Young Selim's form was then as bright
As e'er was given to mortal sight,
He knew not that, nor paused to eye
The visage of his enemy,

But with a whirl which, like the blast
That on the desert's leafless way
Holds over all its withering sway,-
No force could turn aside, or stay
One mortal stroke, the first, the last,
He clove stern Osman's turban head,
Who, ere he lay among the dead,
From his broad belt a pistol drew,
And dying half avenged his fall,
For Selim's breast received the ball,
And down he sank in darkness too,
And weltering on the cold earth lay
Till the first swoon had pass'd away;
Then faintly dragg'd his wounded form
O'er mangled heaps yet moist and warm,
And though 'neath many tottering arch
The next tophaike's resounding breath
May topple down on all beneath,
He needs must bend his bleeding march;
Oft would he pause awhile to trace
The features of some well-known face
That late was flush'd with health s red hue,
But now o'erspread with livid blue,
Until that open spot he gain'd

Where now his stiffening frame remain'd,
In torment few have e'er sustain'd.
But when the battle's din was o'er,-
The craven shriek, the cannon's roar,
And crash of columns, heard no more,-