A smooth short space of yellow sand
Between it and the greener land.

He wandered on, along the beach,
Till within the range of a carbine's reach
Of the leaguered wall; but they saw him not,
Or how could he 'scape from the hostile shot?

Did traitors lurk in the Christians' hold?

Were their hands grown stiff, or their hearts waxed cold ?
I know not, in sooth; but from yonder wall
There flashed no fire, and there hissed no ball,
Though he stood beneath the bastion's frown,
That flanked the sea-ward gate of the town;
Though he heard the sound, and could almost tell
The sullen words, of the sentinel,

As his measured step on the stone below

Clanked, as he paced it to and fro;

And he saw the lean dogs beneath the wall

Hold o'er the dead their carnival,

Gorging and growling o'er carcass and limb;

They were too busy to bark at him!

From a Tartar's skull they had stripped the flesh,

As ye peel the fig when its fruit is fresh ;

And their white tusks crunched o'er the whiter skull,*

As it slipped through their jaws, when their edge grew dull,

As they lazily mumbled the bones of the dead,

When they scarce could rise from the spot where they fed;
So well had they broken a lingering fast

With those who had fallen for that night's repast.

And Alp knew, by the turbans that rolled on the sand,

The foremost of these were the best of his band:

Crimson and green were the shawls of their wear,

And each scalp had a single long tuft of hair,†
All the rest was shaven and bare.

This spectacle I have seen, such as described, beneath the wall of the Seraglio at Constantinople, in the little cavities worn by the Bosphorus in the rock, a narrow terrace of which projects between the wall and the water. I think the fact is also mentioned in Hobhouse's Travels.' The bodies were probably those of some refractory Janizaries,

This tuft, or long lock, is left from a superstition that Mahomet will draw them into Paradise by it.

The scalps were in the wild dog's maw,
The hair was tangled round his jaw.

But close by the shore, on the edge of the gulf,
There sat a vulture flapping a wolf,

Who had stolen from the hills, but kept away,
Scared by the dogs, from the human prey;
But he seized on his share of a steed that lay,
Picked by the birds, on the sands of the bay.

Then comes the event which is the main subject of the poem; that is, the appearance of Francesca :

He sate him down at a pillar's base,
And passed his hand athwart his face;
Like one in dreary musing mood,
Declining was his attitude;

His head was drooping on his breast,
Fevered, throbbing, and opprest;
And o'er his brow, so downward beut,
Oft his beating fingers went,
Hurriedly, as you may see
Your own run over the ivory key,
Ere the measured tone is taken
By the chords you would awaken.
There he sate all heavily,

As he heard the night-wind sigh.

Was it the wind, through some hollow stone,

Sent that soft and tender moan?

He lifted his head, and he looked on the sea,

But it was unrippled as glass may be;

He looked on the long grass-it waved not a blade ;
How was that gentle sound conveyed?

He looked to the banners-each flag lay still,

So did the leaves on Citharon's hill,

And he felt not a breath come over his cheek;

What did that sudden sound bespeak?
He turned to the left-is he sure of sight?
There sate a lady youthful and bright!

He started up with more of fear

Than if an armed foe were near.

'God of my fathers! what is here?

Published by J. Robins and Co. London, July 24, 1824.

Who art thou, and wherefore sent

So near a hostile armament ?'
His trembling hands refused to sign
The cross he deemed no more divine:
He had resumed it in that hour,
But conscience wrung away the power.
He gazed, he saw: he knew the face
Of beauty, and the form of grace;
It was Francesca by his side,

The maid who might have been his bride!
The rose was yet upon her cheek,
But mellowed with a tenderer streak:
Where was the play of her soft lips fled?
Gone was the smile that enlivened their red.
The ocean's calm within their view,
Beside her eye had less of blue;
But like that cold wave it stood still,
And its glance, though clear, was chill.
Around her form a thin robe twining,
Nought concealed her bosom shining;
Through the parting of her hair,
Floating darkly downward there,
Her rounded arm showed white and bare:

And, ere yet she made reply,

Once she raised her hand on high ;

It was so wan, and transparent of hue,

You might have seen the moon shine through.

I come from my rest to him I love best,
That I may be happy and he may be blest.
I have passed the guards, the gate, the wall;
Sought thee in safety through foes and all.
'Tis said the lion will turn and flee

From a maid in the pride of her purity;

And the Power on high, that can shield the good

Thus from the tyrant of the wood,

Hath extended its mercy to guard me as well

From the hands of the leaguering infidel.

I come and, if I come in vain,

Never, oh never, we meet again!