Eager they listen - while each accent darts
New life into their chilled and hope-sick hearts;
Such treacherous life as the cool draught supplies
To him upon the stake, who drinks and dies!
Wildly they point their lances to the light
Of the fast sinking sun, and shout "To-night!"—
"To-night," their Chief re-echoes in a voice
Of fiend-like mockery that bids hell rejoice.
Deluded victims ! never hath this earth

Seen mourning half so mournful as their mirth.
Here, to the few, whose iron frames had stood
This racking waste of famine and of blood,
Faint, dying wretches clung, from whom the shout
Of triumph like a maniac's laugh broke out:-
There, others, lighted by the smouldering fire,
Danced, like wan ghosts about a funeral pyre,
Among the dead and dying, strewed around; -
While some pale wretch looked on, and from his
wound

Plucking the fiery dart by which he bled,
In ghastly transport waved it o'er his head!

-

a fearful pause

"Twas more than midnight now Had followed the long shouts, the wild applause, That lately from those Royal Gardens burst, Where the Veiled demon held his feast accursed, When ZELICA-alas! poor ruined heart, In every horror doomed to bear its part! Was bidden to the banquet by a slave, Who, while his quivering lip the summons gave, Grew black, as though the shadows of the grave Compassed him round, and, ere he could repeat His message through, fell lifeless at her feet!

Shuddering she went a soul-felt pang of fear,

-

A presage that her own dark doom was near,
Roused every feeling, and brought Reason back
Once more, to writhe her last upon the rack.
All round seemed tranquil—ev'n the foe had ceased,
As if aware of that demoniac feast,

His fiery bolts; and though the heavens looked red,
"Twas but some distant conflagration's spread.
But hark-she stops-she listens dreadful tone!
'Tis her tormentor's laugh-and now, a groan,
A long death-groan comes with it:-can this be
The place of mirth, the bower of revelry?
She enters-Holy ALLA, what a sight
Was there before her! By the glimmering light
Of the pale dawn, mixed with the flare of brands
That round lay burning, dropped from lifeless hands,
She saw the board, in splendid mockery spread,
Rich censers breathing — garlands overhead·

The urns, the cups, from which they late had quaffed,
All gold and gems, but—what had been the draught?
O! who need ask, that saw those livid guests,
With their swollen heads sunk blackening on their
breasts,

Or looking pale to Heaven with glassy glare,
As if they sought but saw no mercy there;
As if they felt, though poison racked them through,
Remorse the deadlier torment of the two!
While some, the bravest, hardiest in the train
Of their false Chief, who on the battle-plain
Would have met death with transport by his side,
Here mute and helpless gasped ; but, as they died,
Looked horrible vengeance with their eyes' last strain,
And clinched the slackening hand at him in vain.

Dreadful it was to see the ghastly stare,
The stony look of horror and despair,
Which some of these expiring victims cast
Upon their soul's tormentor to the last;

Upon that mocking Fiend, whose Veil, now raised,
Showed them, as in death's agony they gazed,
Not the long promised light, the brow, whose beaming
Was to come forth, all conquering, all redeeming,
But features horribler than Hell e'er traced
On its own brood; -no Demon of the Waste,1
No churchyard Ghole, caught lingering in the light
Of the bless'd sun, e'er blasted human sight
With lineaments so foul, so fierce as those
The' Impostor now, in grinning mockery, shows:-
"There, ye wise Saints, behold your Light, your

"Ye would be dupes and victims, and ye are. "Is it enough? or must I, while a thrill "Lives in your sapient bosoms, cheat you still? "Swear that the burning death ye feel within "Is but the trance with which heaven's joys begin; "That this foul visage, foul as e'er disgraced

"Ev'n monstrous man, is after God's own taste; "And that but see! ere I have half-way said "My greetings through, the' uncourteous souls are

fled.

"Farewell, sweet spirits! not in vain ye die, "If EBLIS loves you half so well as I.

"The Afghauns believe each of the numerous solitudes and deserts of their country to be inhabited by a lonely demon, whom they call the Ghoolee Beeabau, or Spirit of the Waste. They often illustrate the wildness of any sequestered tribe, by saying, they are wild as the Demon of the Waste " ·Elphinstone's Caubul.

"Ha, my young bride!-'tis well-take thou thy

seat;

"Nay, come · no shuddering · - didst thou never meet "The Dead before?-they graced our wedding, sweet; "And these, my guests to-night, have brimmed so true "Their parting cups, that thou shalt pledge one too. how is this? all empty? all drunk up?

"But

"Hot lips have been before thee in the cup, "Young bride - yet stay-one precious drop remains, "Enough to warm a gentle Priestess' veins; —

"Here, drink and should thy lover's conquering arms

"Speed hither, ere thy lip lose all its charms,
"Give him but half this venom in thy kiss,
"And I'll forgive my haughty rival's bliss!

"For me I too must die - but not like these "Vile, rankling things, to fester in the breeze; "To have this brow in ruffian triumph shown, "With all death's grimness added to its own, "And rot to dust beneath the taunting eyes "Of slaves, exclaiming, 'There his Godship lies!' "No-cursed race - since first my soul drew breath, "They've been my dupes, and shall be ev'n in death. "Thou seest yon cistern in the shade 'tis filled "With burning drugs, for this last hour distilled : 1 "There will I plunge me, in that liquid flame — "Fit bath to lave a dying Prophet's frame ! — "There perish, all-ere pulse of thine shall fail — "Nor leave one limb to tell mankind the tale.

1 "Il donna du poison dans le vin à tous ses gens, et se jetta lui-même ensuite dans une cuve pleine de drogues brûlantes et consumantes, afin qu'il ne restât rien de tous les membres de son corps, et que ceux qui restoient de sa secte puissent croire qu'il étoit monté au ciel, ce qui ne manqua pas d'arriver." - D'Herbelot.

"So shall my votaries, wheresoe'er they rave, "Proclaim that Heaven took back the Saint it gave; "That I've but vanished from this earth awhile, "To come again, with bright, unshrouded smile! "So shall they build me altars in their zeal, "Where knaves shall minister, and fools shall kneel; "Where Faith may mutter o'er her mystic spell, "Written in blood-and Bigotry may swell "The sail he spreads for heaven with blasts from hell! "So shall my banner, through long ages, be "The rallying sign of fraud and anarchy; "Kings yet unborn shall rue MOKANNA's name, "And, though I die, my spirit, still the same, "Shall walk abroad in all the stormy strife,

“And guilt, and blood, that were its bliss in life. 'But, hark! their battering engine shakes the wall "Why, let it shake thus I can brave them all. "No trace of me shall greet them, when they come, "And I can trust thy faith, for thou'lt be dumb. "Now mark how readily a wretch like me, "In one bold plunge, commences Deity!"

He and sunk, as the last words were said sprung Quick closed the burning waters o'er his head, And ZELICA was left-within the ring

Of those wide walls the only living thing;

---

The only wretched one, still curs'd with breath,
In all that frightful wilderness of death!
More like some bloodless ghost-such as, they tell,
In the Lone Cities of the Silent1 dwell,

1 "They have all a great reverence for burial-grounds, which they sometimes call by the poetical name of Cities of the Silent, and which they people with the ghosts of the departed, who sit each at the head of his own grave, invisible to mortal eyes." Elphinstone.