LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 ©i^p. - ©apijrig]^ %♦- 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
/^ 
 
••^:^'A 
 
^ 
 
LINDENWALD. 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN UNDERWOOD, 
 Author of El Muza and other Poems. 
 
 ^t or co^J; 
 
 ^'HOy 6 1393 J 
 
 CHICAGO: ^^. Jj / ^ 
 
 BONOHUE & HENNEBERRY, PUBLISHERS. ^ ^^ ^ 
 
 1893. 
 
 N- 
 

 Copyright 1893. 
 JOHN UNDERWOOD, 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 The author claims no especial merit in the 
 following poem, but hopes to interest the reader 
 by leading him over a new and untrod path. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 TALE OF THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. 
 
 The year 1683 will ever be memorable in Aus- 
 trian history, as the last invasion by the Turks 
 and the siege of Vienna. 
 
 Mahomed IV was the reigning Sultan at that 
 period. His dominions embraced Western Asia, 
 Northern Africa and Eastern Europe. His 
 army of invasion numbered, according to some 
 historians, nearly half a million, commanded by 
 Kara Mustapha, the Grand Vizier. The army 
 was composed of Turks with their allies, con- 
 sisting of Tartars, Hungarians, Wallachians, 
 Moldavians and other Turkish dependencies, 
 embracing different nationalities and creeds. 
 This army appeared before Vienna in July 1683. 
 
 The siege continued till September when it 
 ended by the defeat of the Turks in a decisive 
 battle, by the allied armies under the leadership 
 of Sobieski, king of Poland and Duke Charles 
 of Loraine and other distinguished German 
 leaders. 
 
The above noticed historical events form the 
 foundation of the following poem. 
 
 The time occupied includes a space of one 
 year. 
 
 PLACES AND PERSONS OF THE TALE. 
 
 Lindenwald castle is supposed to have been 
 situated on the banks of the Danube within 
 about two days^ ride of Vienna. 
 
 The places most particularly mentioned are 
 Lindenwald, Constantinople and Vienna. 
 
 The principal characters are Earle Wilhelm, 
 lord of the castle; Countess Maria, his wife, and 
 Count Albrecht, his son; Duke Ludwig, after- 
 ward Priest Ludwig; Angle, engaged to Duke 
 Ludwig, but elopes with Ben Hassan; Ben 
 Hassan, a young Tartar student and prince, 
 afterward holding a high position in the Sul- 
 tan's army; Agnis, daughter of Ben Hassan 
 and Angle. 
 
 Many other incidental names and characters 
 make up the machinery of the poem. 
 
INTRODUCTION TO CANTO I. 
 
 The storm king rides the gathering cloud. 
 
 His breath is chil) his voice is loud; 
 
 TAe north wind as his charioteer. 
 
 Born in the regions cold and drear, 
 
 Drives fiercely over vale and hill. 
 
 While nature feels the blighting chill. 
 
 The flowers of summer droop and fade. 
 
 The flock forsakes the naked glade, 
 
 The songbird leaves the leafless grove 
 
 Where late she sang her lay of love; 
 
 The sun which cheers the shortened day,, 
 
 More feebly sheds his stinted ray, 
 
 No fragrant flower, no dancing stream. 
 
 To rouse the poet's magic theme. 
 
 But earth and sky and sea and air, 
 
 A season of repose declare. 
 
 But still, to cheer the lonely hours. 
 
 And waken fancy^s drowsy powers, 
 
 And pass the cheerless wintry days. 
 
 His eye o^er many a volume strays, 
 
 Of history or classic lore, 
 
 Of heroes famed in days of yore. 
 
He reads till borne on fancy^s wings, 
 
 He treads the halls of ancient kings. 
 
 Or views the castle grim and high. 
 
 With turrets pointing to the sky. 
 
 Or sees some warlike chieftain stride, 
 
 Amidst his clan with haughty pride, 
 
 Or marks the Moslem, grim and bold. 
 
 The prophet^s crescent fiag unfold, 
 
 And lead his fierce and warlike bands. 
 
 Against the western Christian lands; 
 
 Or scales the high forbidden walls, 
 
 To view the harem's secret halls. 
 
 Where Oriental dames reclined 
 
 In listless ease, whose powers of mind, 
 
 Stinted by superstitious gloom. 
 
 Seem bounded by their narrow room; 
 
 Or in some grave monastic cell 
 
 Will listen to the vesper bell. 
 
 Whose solemn tones the sense invites 
 
 To aid wild fancy in its flight. 
 
 Thus while, without, the storm king reigns, 
 
 And fetters nature with his chains. 
 
 Within, beside the blazing brand. 
 
 At ease I sit with book in hand. 
 
My guests, philosophers and sages, 
 Who lived and wrote in former ages, 
 Or bards whose wild romantic lays 
 Were sung in legendary days. 
 
CANTO I. 
 
 The morning dawned brightly on Lindenwald's 
 
 towers 
 And gilded with beauty its gardens and bowers. 
 While from its proud turrets in brilliant array, 
 A score of gay banners enliven the day. 
 The broad flowing Danube is sparkling and 
 
 bright. 
 Reflecting the rays of the sun's early light. 
 The annual holiday, honored of yore, 
 Seemed gayer this morning than even before. 
 And many grand guests, lords and ladies, appear 
 To join in the chase and partake of the cheer, 
 But, fearing a raid from some wild Moslem band, 
 A score of bold knights, with their weapons in 
 
 hand, 
 Will ride in the train while with cross and with 
 
 stole 
 Priest Ludwig the friends of the woods will con- 
 trol, 
 *Twere strange that a man of such cavalry air, 
 The robe and the cowl of a prelate should wear. 
 
 10 
 
11 
 
 "Pray tell me, kind warden; what means this dis- 
 play ? 
 Say is it to hail the -first morning of May ?'^ 
 "The annual fete and the gay forest ride 
 Are always delightful/' the warden replied. 
 '^Though once a strange fortune Priest Ludwig 
 
 befell. 
 Though years have since past I remember it 
 
 well." 
 ^Tray tell the strange story/' the stranger now 
 
 cried. 
 When musing a moment, the warden replied: 
 ^^This day twenty years, the first morning of 
 
 May, 
 Was like this bright morning, delightful and gay, 
 Young Albrecht's first birthday made brighter 
 
 the scene. 
 The gardens were fragrant, the forests were 
 
 green. 
 The morning was cloudless and seemed to invite 
 The guests to a scene of unusual delight. 
 Earle Wilhelm the lord of the castle today. 
 And Countess Maria, both youthful and gay, 
 Led forth to the forest the light cavalcade 
 
To join in the chase through wild thicket or 
 
 glade, 
 Among the proud guests, it was easy to trace 
 A young lord and lady of beauty and grace, 
 Their praises were whispered by many a tongue. 
 So skillful as riders, so graceful and young. 
 Duke Ludwig, young lord of proud Fannense's 
 
 land, 
 Whose turreted castle was stately and grand. 
 (Now ruled by his brother, Duke ^einrich, 
 
 while he 
 Is robed as a prelate as now you can see.) 
 The lady who gracefully rode at his side 
 Was Angle, of Baden, engaged as his bride. 
 While, almost unnoticed, a strange, dark-eyed 
 
 guest. 
 Rode silently forth to the chase with the rest, 
 A student from Baden, Ben Hassan by name, 
 A young Tartar prince, from Samarcand he 
 
 came 
 To study the language and laws of the west; 
 His rank as a prince was his pass as a guest. 
 He often at Baden young Angle had seen. 
 They often had met in their walks on the green. 
 
13 
 
 Together had galloped o*er meadow and plain, 
 
 Both skillful to ride and handle the rein. 
 
 Of such was the party who galloped that da}^ — 
 
 A gayer ne'er rode to the forest away. 
 
 But no holy prelate was seen in the train 
 
 A sin which was never repeated again. 
 
 '"^The baying of hounds and the shouts that 
 
 arose. 
 Awakened the forest from nature's repose. 
 Each beast at the echo awakes from his lair. 
 And sooii on the wing were the birds of the 
 
 air. 
 Such was the wild tumult and din of the chase, 
 And such it has been on all festival days, 
 Since old Baron Reisig, our forefathers say, 
 Established this annual festival day. 
 At noon the loud bugle the huntsmen recalls, 
 To meet and return to proud Lindenwald's halls. 
 The riders assembled in haste at the sound. 
 But Angle, alas with the guests was not found. 
 She at the first shout and wild echoing bay, 
 Unnoticed, had stole from Duke Ludwig away. 
 Now ran through the party a tremor of fear. 
 The young Tartar student had failed to appear. 
 
14 
 
 The bugle is sounded more loudly again, 
 
 Its echoes resounded through wood and o'er 
 
 plain, 
 And oft is repeated the echoing blast. 
 While moments and hours of anxiety passed. 
 Duke Ludwig, half frantic^ remounted his steed 
 And rushed through the forest with wild reckless 
 
 speed, 
 And other fleet horsemen remounted once more 
 The depths of the forest again to explore, 
 While slowly and sadly Earle Wilhelm now 
 
 rides, 
 And back to the castle the silent train guides. 
 But of the lost Angle no trace could they gain. 
 Till night spread her veil o^er the forest and plain. 
 But sad was the group on that sorrowful night. 
 Although the day opened so cheerful and bright. 
 Thus days grew to weeks and the forest and 
 
 plain 
 Were faithfully searched, but all efforts were 
 
 vain. 
 Until, by a trader who eastward had been. 
 The fugitives far on their journey were seen. 
 The search of the forest was now given o^er; 
 
15 
 
 Duke Ludwig returned to his castle once more; 
 Resigned to his brother his castle and lands, 
 Who now as the lord of proud Fannensee stands. 
 And then at the shrine of St. Agatha vowed, 
 That robes of a priest should his person en- 
 shroud, 
 And till he of Angle some tidings should gain, 
 His vows, as a priest should unbroken remain. 
 The garb and the staff of a pilgrim he bore. 
 And visited many a far distant shore, 
 He sought the famed cities of Palestine's lands, 
 And visited Africa's deserts and sands, 
 But oft as returns the first morning of May, 
 Again to the castle he takes his lone way. 
 And rides as a prelate in Earle Wilhelm's train, 
 And calls the sad scenes to remembrance again.'* 
 
 4 
 Old Conrad had scarcely completed his tale. 
 When notes of the bugle arose on the gale. 
 The tramping of steeds and the voices of cheer. 
 Resound through the groves as the riders ap- 
 pear. 
 A more joyous party or brilliant array. 
 
16 
 
 Ne'er rode to the forest than rode on that day. 
 Ten knights in bright armor the cavalcade lead, 
 Ten chargers, all famed for their beauty and 
 
 speedy 
 And ten gallant horsemen as guards in the rear. 
 In glittering armor and trappings appear. 
 The Earle and the Countess in gallant array, 
 Lead forward the party on palfreys of grey, 
 While, clad as a huntsman. Count Albrecht with 
 
 pride 
 Conversed with priest Ludwig, and rode at his 
 
 side. 
 While ladies and lords from Vienna appear. 
 As guests at the castle and join in the cheer. 
 Thus formed in procession the company gay. 
 To Lindenwald's forest have taken their way 
 And soon the loud baying and clatter and shout^ 
 Announced the gay sport and the wild forest 
 
 route. 
 
 5 
 When from the dull scenes of the palace and 
 
 court. 
 The free woodland ride and the huntsman's wild 
 
 sport. 
 
17 
 
 Or when the brave knight from monotonous drill, 
 Rides free as the wind over mountain and hill, 
 And cheered by the sport and the free mountain 
 
 air. 
 They almost forget every duty and care, 
 As gaily they gallop through grove and o'er hill, 
 Or bathe their flushed brows at the clear moun- 
 tain rill. 
 Till from the loud bugle, yet seeming too soon. 
 The signal is sounded, the wild sport is done, 
 When quickly assemble the hurrying train, 
 To gaily return to the castle again. 
 
 Around a pure fountain where bright waters 
 
 play. 
 The party ffow gather their thirst to allay. 
 And fearless of danger the riders dismount. 
 And carelessly stand by the sparkling fount, 
 For ere they return to the castle once more, 
 A draught from the spring must their spirits 
 
 restore. 
 The health giving waters, priest Ludwig now 
 
 blessed, 
 
 3 
 
18 
 
 When filling the cup to each soldier and guest. 
 The earle drinks the health from the goblet so 
 
 clear. 
 The guests now respond with an echoing cheer* 
 The goblet is filled and count Albrecht again 
 Drinks to the fair ladies who honor the train, 
 When handkerchiefs waving do silently tell 
 The toast is enjoyed by the ladies right well, 
 A toast from the priest many voices now cry. 
 The goblet is filled ere they wait a reply, 
 And brought to the prelate, who silently stands 
 A moment, then taking the glass in his hands 
 He raises it slowly and says with a sigh, 
 ^*A drink to a friend of the years now gone by."" 
 All heads are uncovered, a reverent bow 
 Is made to the priest by the party; and now, 
 A toast to the knights who have guarded the 
 
 train 
 Is cheered by a shout and the bugle's refrain. 
 But louder and deeper an ominous sound,' 
 Resounds from the hills and the forest around. 
 Say, was it an echo which answered the cheer. 
 Or shout of the Moslem which falls on the ear? 
 The merriment ceases, but ceases too late; 
 
19 
 
 'Tis the wild Moslem shout, the dread herald of 
 
 fate. 
 The half emptied goblet now falls from his hand. 
 As Albrecht now seizes his strong ready brandy 
 Each knight quickly grasps his true steed^s 
 
 slackened rein 
 And hastily springs to his saddle again. 
 And cries of dismay from the ladies arise, 
 As each to her lord clings with fear and surprise, 
 And cheeks which were glowing with pleasure 
 
 and cheer. 
 Grew pallid as marble with terror and fear. 
 
 Five hundred armed horsemen with gallop and 
 
 bound, 
 And scimitars waving, the party surround. 
 The stubborn resistance was fruitless and vain; 
 The Earle and his bravest defenders were slain. 
 But short was the conflict and shorter the stay; 
 The foes with their captives soon hastened away. 
 The ladies remounted, half 'frantic with fear, 
 Were guarded by soldiers, who rode in the rear. 
 The guards who survive were remounted again, 
 On slow weary steeds, thus escape was in vain. 
 
20 
 
 Count Albrecht, though wounded, was ordered 
 
 to ride, 
 By aid of Priest Ludwig, who rode at his side^ 
 Thus through the dense forest with fear and 
 
 dismay, 
 The helpless survivors have taken their way. 
 Urged on by their foes while with many a sigh, 
 They bid their lost friends and their country 
 
 good-bye; 
 Till low in the west sinks the sun's parting ray. 
 So closes the scenes of the festival day. 
 
 The tents are now pitched by the side of a rill. 
 Which flows at the base of a forest-crowned 
 
 hill. 
 Where dark turbaned chiefs and grim soldiers 
 
 appear. 
 Each armed with a scimitar, poniard and spear. 
 Adventurers gathered from many a land, 
 And joined under Pasha Al Raschid's command. 
 The Pasha of discipline, stern and severe. 
 Knew little of mercy and little of fear. 
 And every soldier had learned to obey. 
 
21 
 
 His leader's command and submit to his sway. 
 
 Now night spreads her curtain with soft sooth- 
 ing hand. 
 
 And slumber has touched with her magical 
 wand, 
 
 The sad weary captives, w^ho yield to its sway. 
 
 Forgetting their woes till the dawning of day, 
 
 When through the lone valley, o'er mountain 
 and plain, 
 
 The captives are urged on their journey again. 
 
 Thusjthree days are passed when a valley of 
 
 green. 
 Refreshed by a clear flowing streamlet, is seen. 
 Surrounded by hills from whose steep lofty 
 
 brow, 
 A forest looked down on the valley below. 
 The Pasha here rested his army once more. 
 Three bright sunny days on the rivulet^s shore. 
 The captives exhausted by sorrow and grief, 
 In much needed rest found a scanty relief, 
 The soldiers, well pleased with a season of ease, 
 Lay quietly stretched neath the shade of the 
 
 trees. 
 
22 
 
 Or sitting in groups while each listening band. 
 Is cheered by some tale of the ocean or land. 
 A renegade sailor from Crimea^s coast, 
 Tells how in a tempest his vessel was lost, 
 Tells many strange omens of evil and good, 
 Of spirits who haunt the far islands and flood; 
 These magical islands he often had seen. 
 Had fought with the troops of the Amazon 
 
 queen. 
 Or Sirens who lulled the doomed sailors to 
 
 sleep, 
 Or Mermaids who haunted the dangerous deep. 
 " One song I remember; just list to my tale, 
 I often have heard it borne wild on the gale/* 
 He says. ^^ Pray repeat it/' each listener cries, 
 When thus in rude cadence its wild notes arise. 
 
 mermaid's song. 
 
 Where the dark and foaming billow, 
 
 Hides some coral rock. 
 
 With the breakers for my pillow, 
 
 The wild winds I mock 
 
 With my song and lure the seaman 
 
 Till the fatal shock 
 
 Rends his trusted bark asunder. 
 
23 
 
 And the waves with voice of thunder, 
 And the wind's deep wail. 
 Echo to my song of triumph, 
 As the tattered sail 
 I receive as lawful treasure 
 Brought me by the gale. 
 Deeply in the caves of ocean 
 - Though the tempests rave, 
 
 Fearless of the waves' commotion. 
 
 O'er the seaman^s grave, 
 
 Soft I spread my ocean treasure, 
 
 O^er his form, and chant with pleasure,. 
 
 Or with plaintive lay 
 
 Sing his requiem, sad and lonely, 
 
 At the close of day. 
 
 Or at morning in the sunlight. 
 
 With the billows play. 
 
 All listen with silence and reverent fear. 
 As tales of the wild mystic ocean they hear 
 An old Arab soldier, whose grizzly beard 
 Gave proof that he many long marches had 
 
 shared. 
 Told tales of the march, of the camp, and the 
 
 field; 
 
24 
 
 And mystical omens by magic revealed 
 As signs of success or of fatal overthrow. 
 Which none but one born in his country might 
 
 know. 
 But chiefly he loved some strange legend to tell. 
 To which his companions would listen full well. 
 They now ask a story of some distant land, 
 To cheer the dull hours of the listening band. 
 He says, '*a true legend I now will relate. 
 As told by the priests in my own native state/^ 
 
 ARABIAN LEGEND. 
 
 There stood a lofty castle within a distant land. 
 Its lord a wealthy Pasha of race renowned and 
 
 grand, 
 A hundred steeds were stabled within a spacious 
 
 stall, 
 A hundred riders waited all ready at his call. 
 A score of dames like houries within his harem 
 
 wait, 
 The most exquisitie beauties from many a foreign 
 
 state. 
 While guards of well-armed soldiers defend his 
 
 castle walls, 
 
25 
 
 And slaves and dusky eunuchs attend his palace 
 
 halls. 
 Yet stern, morose and cruel and filled with 
 
 scorn and hate, 
 And who provoked his anger soon met a felon's 
 
 fate. 
 At length a weary pilgrim, afflicted, lame and 
 
 poor. 
 Sought in a wintry tempest admission at his 
 
 door, 
 But driven from the castle with curses and with 
 
 blows. 
 He lifts his hands to heaven and hus this voice 
 
 arose, 
 **Wo! to the heartless tyrant who drives with 
 
 ruthless might, 
 The sick and weary pilgrim into the stormy 
 
 night. 
 May terror, wreck and ruin within these walls 
 
 be found, 
 And this proud, guarded castle be levelled to 
 
 the ground.^' 
 He turned his weary footsteps to face the night 
 
 and rain 
 
26 
 
 And e'er the dawn of morning, lay lifeless on the 
 
 plain, 
 A year had scarcely ended when a wild storm 
 
 arose. 
 With clouds more dark than midnight, and fierce 
 
 the whirlwind blows, 
 Tne castle's spires were shattered, it walls were 
 
 ' rent and riven, 
 And the proud Pasha perished by thunderbolts 
 
 from heaven, 
 And mingled with the tempest the pilgrim's 
 
 curse again 
 Is shouted through the castle and echoed o*er 
 
 the plain, 
 Thus raged the fearful tempest and pealed the 
 
 thunder's sound. 
 Until the famous castle was levelled to the 
 
 ground. 
 No trace to mark its ruin is seen throughout the 
 
 land. 
 Its site and fragrant gardens are now a desert 
 
 sand; 
 But 'neath an aged palm tree a lonely heap of 
 
 stones 
 
27 
 
 Points as a silent record where rest the pilgrim's 
 bones. 
 
 Thus two days were past when the song and the 
 
 tale. 
 And other amusements grew heartless and stale. 
 When Caled, a soldier who ever had stood. 
 As foremost to lead in all evil or good. 
 Proposed that the Christian, who rode in their 
 
 train 
 As priest, be invited his creed to explain. 
 And tell the strange tales and wild legends of 
 
 old. 
 And then when the captive his story had told, 
 A priest of Mahomet should stand in his place. 
 And speak for the prophet, his creed and his 
 
 race. 
 Thus Moslem and Christian should equally share 
 The right his religion and faith to declare. 
 The Pasha assented and soon 'neath the shade 
 Of wide-spreading branches a rostrum was 
 
 made, 
 
Where hundreds of soldiers with listening ear^ 
 Soon gathered, the novel discussion to hear. 
 The priest in the robes of the Christian is seen 
 Approaching with quiet and dignified mien; 
 A cross on his breast as an emblem he wore, 
 And in his right hand a small crucifix bore. 
 And soon to his place from the opposite side 
 A priest of Mahomet appeared in his pride. 
 A murmur is heard in the gathering crowd, 
 And then a wild shout rises joyful and loud. 
 If two gladiators prepared for the fray. 
 Were in the arena in battle array, 
 Not louder had risen the echoing shout. 
 Than rang through the forest so joyfully out. 
 The guards soon the cheers of the soldiers re- 
 strain, 
 And quiet again o*er the scene holds her reign. 
 A herald now enters the ring, with a cross 
 And crescent, portrayed on a stone. Now a toss 
 High up in the air, when with rotating bound 
 It falls and lies quiet again on the ground. 
 The herald now carefully raises the stone 
 And loudly proclaims that the crescent has won,, 
 
29 
 
 When Caled now whispers, " but little I care 
 Who wins or who loses, the play opens fair.'^ 
 
 lO 
 
 El Razin, a priest of Mohammedan race, 
 From viziers and caliphs his record could trace. 
 Each mosque from famed Bagdad to Marmora's 
 
 shore 
 Some mark of his zeal or his piety bore. 
 His name in the mosques of Medina was known, 
 At Mecca engraved on a tablet of stone. 
 But now with Al Raschid his fortune he shares 
 To aid in his raids with his council and prayers. 
 With haughty contempt and true Musselman 
 
 pride 
 He looked on the Christian, who sat at his side. 
 Then raising his crescent high over his head, 
 He thus to his listening audience said: 
 ^* To talk with a Christian of church or of creed 
 Is what no true priest of the prophet has need; 
 The faith of Mahomet consists not in word 
 His worship is taught by the cannon and sword> 
 From far distant India to Africa's sands, 
 The crescent now floats over cities and lands. 
 
30 
 
 And like the proud sun at the opening day. 
 Still westward the koran is taking its way; 
 And soon over Europe, each city and tower, 
 Shall float the proud emblem of Moslem power. 
 And every brave soldier who falls on the field 
 Shall fly' to the land to the prophet revealed. 
 A Paradise formed for luxurious ease. 
 Where gardens and houries the senses shall 
 
 please. 
 Such is our religion. Though simple and weak 
 Should be his remarks, let the Christian now 
 
 speak." 
 He ceased and a cheer for El Razin again 
 Is loudly re-echoed through forest and plain. 
 But quickly the tumult is hushed to repose, 
 As from his calm silence, Priest Ludwig arose. 
 He raises the crucifix high o'er his head. 
 Bowed to the assembly and calmly he said: 
 *The cross which I bear is an emblem of peace. 
 Beneath its mild reign all contention will cease. 
 Transformed into plowshares, the sword and the 
 
 spear. 
 The rich golden harvests of nature will rear, 
 And desolate lands by the soldier now trod. 
 
31 
 
 Would flourish and bloom like the garden of God. 
 And those who as soldiers now wearily roam. 
 Would taste the enjoyments of kindred and 
 
 home/* 
 The Pasha now ordered Priest Lud wig to cease. 
 Saying, *'none to my soldiers shall prattle of 
 
 peace, 
 The life of a soldier means bloodshed and war. 
 Let Christians and cowards their peace visions 
 
 share." 
 
 It 
 Thus hastily closes the scenes of the day, 
 The morrow again finds the troops on their way, 
 Refreshed by a season of quiet and rest. 
 With still greater vigor the journey is pressed. 
 Oer mountain and plain for full many a day. 
 The captives are urged on their wearisome way. 
 But time like the tide which no weariness knows, 
 At length brought the long cheerless march to a 
 
 close. 
 The soldiers proclaim with an echoing cheer, 
 The spires of a city at distance appear. 
 Proud Constantinople, the Orient queen. 
 And classic Bosphorus distinctly are seen. 
 
INTRODUCTION TO CANTO II. 
 
 Kind reader when the sun^s last ray, 
 Has faded from the earth away. 
 When summer too has passed and gone. 
 And Autumn breezes hoarsly moan. 
 Through half clad groves of faded green, 
 Or yellow foliage the screen 
 Of summer birds now heard no more, 
 They warble on some southern shore. 
 And tune their amorous notes of love 
 In some more warm and genial grove. 
 Or in some safe secluded glen. 
 Untrodden by the feet of men, 
 And silent, brave stern winter's reign 
 Till cheerful spring returns again, 
 While proudly soaring through the skies. 
 The migratory columns rise, 
 Of stronger wing and higher flight, 
 Regardless of the frost king's might, 
 While you, less favored, seek your home, 
 With little wish to wildly roam 
 
 32 
 
33 
 
 For pleasure midst the frost and snows, 
 But welcome nature's long repose 
 With social joys or harmless mirth. 
 Around your cherished home and hearth. 
 The lute, the music and the song, 
 Awhile amuse the happy throng, 
 But dull ennui oft invades 
 The wintry days of evening shades. 
 And books so often read before, 
 Grow stale, and interest no more. 
 Kind reader, then my humble lay. 
 May serve to pass the hours away. 
 
 5 
 
CANTO IL 
 
 Scene: Constantinople. 
 
 The mists of the morning pass slowly away, 
 And dimly the sun casts his first morning ray. 
 His earliest beams with a silver light fall. 
 On loftiest towers and on minarets tall, 
 When solemnly break on the still morning 
 
 air, 
 The bells of the mosques, as a signal for prayer. 
 The captives, aroused from their reveries lone. 
 Recall in the sound of the low, solemn tone. 
 The matin bell's chime, which full often before. 
 Had welcomed the morn from St, Agatha^s 
 
 tower. 
 But short was the season of prayerful repose. 
 And short was the murmur of worship that 
 
 rose. 
 For soon the hoarse cannon with thunder-like 
 
 roar, 
 Booms over the bay and resounds from the 
 
 shore. 
 
 34 
 
35 
 
 The proud Turkish navy and forts on the land. 
 Exchange their salutes, while majestic and grand, 
 The turreted castles and ships in the bay. 
 The flag of the crescent in triumph display, 
 While loud through the streets the fleet heralds 
 
 proclaim, 
 Al Raschid^s return with new honor and fame, 
 A score of new captives, as trophies, declare 
 His brilliant success in the Austrian war. 
 This group of proud nobles in richest array. 
 The Pasha surprised on a festival day, 
 These ladies and lords with knights valiant and 
 
 bold, 
 As spoils of the captor at noon will be sold. 
 The heralds thus pass through full many a 
 
 street. 
 Repeating their cries, while with hurrying feet. 
 The curious citizens haste to the ward, 
 To view the strange captives, till checked by the 
 
 guard. 
 Who ready with spears or with scimitars, wait 
 The order to open the strong oaken gate. 
 
 2. 
 
 Within the walled court of the castle, appear 
 
36 
 
 The captives with little of comfort or cheer, 
 The sun half concealed by the mists which pre- 
 vail, 
 Appears in the heavens, discolored and pale. 
 While dark turbaned guards like fierce demons^ 
 
 are seen 
 With scimitars armed and with threatening mien 
 And high frowning walls ; these dread emblems 
 
 of fear 
 Like scenes of the regions infernal appear. 
 Their morning devotions though plaintive and 
 
 low, 
 Afford some relief to their sorrow and wo, 
 As led by priest Ludwig the soft matin lay 
 Recalled the loved scenes of their homes far 
 away. 
 
 3 
 The mists of the morning in vapors arise. 
 The noonday sun smiles from the clear cloudless 
 
 skies. 
 When harsh on its hinges the huge oaken gate, 
 Creaks hoarsely and enters in grand royal state 
 Mustapha (the vizier) and pashas who stand. 
 In ready attendance to wait his command. 
 
37 
 
 The captives whose nation and rank are then 
 
 told, 
 By Pasha Al Raschid are now to be sold, 
 While dark frowning purchasers heartless and 
 
 grim. 
 View rudely each form, every muscle and limb, 
 While jeers of derision insulting and loud. 
 Are heard from the motley and curious crowd, 
 As formed into groups the sad captives are seen, 
 Awaiting their fate with a sorrowful mien. 
 
 *^Ten Austrian knights" cries the grim auc- 
 tioneer, 
 **VVho when in no danger have never known fear, 
 Observe each tall form and each muscular frame. 
 Who bids for these heroes of valor and fame?" 
 A purchaser answered ^*a knight strong and 
 
 brave, 
 Though useful in war is unfit for a slave, 
 The coward for labor, the soldier for war. 
 Ten piasters each is the price I can spare," 
 '^But men are now needed," a merchant replies, 
 **Five piasters more I will add to the price. 
 
38 
 
 My ship lies at anchor half manned in the bay; 
 My seamen have gone with the army away/' 
 ^*Is any more offered, just going, one ! one ! 
 One, two,^' cries the auctioneer, ^^going, and, 
 
 gone/' 
 '^Another grand offer," the auctioneer cries, 
 ^^Who buys these six nobles will win a rich prize, 
 The fortunate man who these chattels may hold, 
 Can claim as their ransom their weight in pure 
 
 gold." 
 Now dark visaged purchasers eager and grim, 
 View rudely each form, scan each feature and 
 
 limb; 
 While jeers of contempt all insulting and loud. 
 In murmurs are heard from the dense motley 
 
 crowd. 
 The look of the captives was sad and forlorn, 
 Their rich silken garments were faded and torn. 
 How unlike the guests on the festival day. 
 Who rode to the forest so cheerful and gay. 
 ^*Who bids for the nobles ?'^ the auctioneer cries. 
 When scanning the captives, a trader replies: 
 *^As maids for his harem some rich titled lord. 
 Perhaps for the females some price might af- 
 ford. 
 
39 
 
 One slave from Dongola in value is more 
 Than these feeble Christians though bought by 
 
 the score. 
 Three sequins for each.'* *^Shall I hear any 
 
 more ?'' 
 The auctioneer cries: ^*Who will raise it to 
 
 fourr 
 ^^Four sequins/* a shrewd Jewish trader now 
 
 cries 
 ^^The chance for their ransom will warrant the 
 
 price. 
 My brother who trades in Vienna/' he said 
 ^^Will forward the price of their ransom when 
 
 paid.*' 
 Then silently muses in whispers concealed, 
 " A thousand piasters my purchase must yield.'' 
 ** Is any more offered. Just going, and, gone,** 
 The nobles are sold, and the Hebrew has won. 
 ^* The last of the captives, three prisoners more. 
 More famed,'* cries the salesman, ^^Lhan any be- 
 fore. 
 The Countess of Lindenwald, Albrecht^ her son. 
 And priest from St. Agatha's convent, well 
 
 known. 
 
40 
 
 As one of the wisest of Austrian race, 
 That ever a feast or a wedding did grace. 
 The last of the lot/^ the grim auctioneer cries, 
 ^^The trio should bring an exceptional price." 
 A tall Tartar chieftain, with curious eye. 
 Examines the captives with half suppressed 
 
 sigh. 
 Then mused as he brushed off the unbidden 
 
 tear: 
 ^^How strange are the fortunes of love and of 
 
 war, 
 The Countess, my hostess, that festival day, 
 I fled with her guest from the forest away, 
 Duke Ludwig, my rival, a prisoner now. 
 But neither my name or my person shall know. 
 But sorrow and time, which no beauty can 
 
 spare, 
 Have darkened my features and silvered my 
 
 hair. 
 And left of my youth scarce a line or a trace. 
 To bring to remembrance my once youthful 
 
 grace. 
 My hostess, so kind, or my rival, so brave. 
 Shall never be sold as a Musselman slave." 
 
41 
 
 Ben Hassan, the Tartar, a moment now stands. 
 Alone with the vizier, who quickly commands 
 That these from the sale to his care be with- 
 drawn, 
 And soon to his gardens Count Albrecht is 
 
 gone. 
 In charge of a servant he leaves with a sigh. 
 First bidding the Priest and the Countess good- 
 bye. 
 ^^Farewell/' sighed the Countess and fast fell her 
 
 tears, 
 As through the huge gateway her son disap- 
 pears. 
 The last of the party so happy and gay. 
 Who rode to the forest that festival day. 
 The last of the lonely and sorrowful band. 
 Two captives alone in the market still stand. 
 The Countess and priest who still anxiously 
 
 wait 
 And almost impatient to learn their own fate, 
 To cheer the sad Countess, Priest Ludwig in 
 
 vain 
 Seeks from his religion some comfort to gain. 
 ^*Each year," he exclaims, "has its winter; and 
 night, 
 
42 
 
 Makes part of each day; but oft cheerful and 
 
 bright, 
 The morning returns, and the zephyrs of spring 
 New beauty and verdure to nature do bring, 
 And fortune's dark clouds which surround us 
 
 to-day. 
 Perchance by to-morrow may vanish away, 
 'Tis wisdom with patience to quietly wait 
 For Heaven still rules over fortune and fate." 
 
 5. 
 While thus they were waiting, the auctioneer 
 
 cried 
 The sale is now closed and the gate opens wide. 
 When quickly Ben Hassan before them appears. 
 And bade the sad captives dismiss all their fears^ 
 ^^Awhile in my service with patience remain. 
 Your far distant homes you may visit again, 
 My servant El Abu, your escort and guard. 
 Will lead to the place for your dwelling pre* 
 
 pared. '^ 
 So saying, he quickly put spurs to his steed, 
 And soon disappeared with impetuous speed. 
 And ere in the west sank the proud king of day. 
 
He with the grand vizier were far on their way 
 To join the grand army en route for the war. 
 Which now on their journey had travelled afar, 
 But few days had passed ere the riders again. 
 Appeared at the head of the vast warlike train, 
 
 6. 
 
 El Abu, a eunuch, now comes with a guard, 
 And soon to a castle with gates strongly barred. 
 The Countess and Prelate have taken their way, 
 So closes the wearisome scenes of the day. 
 Each to an apartment alone is assigned. 
 Though weary and sad to their fortune resigned 
 Night's still peaceful shades to slumber invite. 
 As closes around them the shades of the night. 
 
INTRODUCTION TO CANTO III. 
 
 The last faint gleam forsakes the west, 
 And nature sinks to quiet rest. 
 While I upon my easy chair 
 Reclined, forget each wish and care. 
 Forget the dark surrounding gloom, 
 Which like a curtain veils my room, 
 Till like the last faint twilight ray, 
 In dreams all real fades away. 
 No longer held by reason^s chain, 
 Wild fancy leads with unchecked rein. 
 Her wierd and Ignus Fatuus light. 
 Has chased away the shades of night. 
 Her breath has quelled the wintry storm.; 
 ^Tis summer and the breeze is warm. 
 Gay flowers spring up on every side; 
 The fields are clothed in nature's pride. 
 In fragrant groves pure fountains play. 
 While loved companions blithe and gay, 
 Who long in silent dust had lain. 
 In health and beauty live again, 
 
 44 
 
45 
 
 But fancy leaves her happy theme 
 And strangely fades my pleasant dream. 
 The curtain lifts and warriors grim, 
 With visage dark and stalwart limb; 
 Each armed with scimitar and spear 
 In warlike ranks, again appear, 
 I hear the battles din and roar; 
 I wake, wild fancy^s reign is o'er. 
 My lamp burned flickering and low; 
 I hear without the storm and blow; 
 I trim my lamp, forget my dream, 
 Resume my pen, pursue my theme. 
 And court again the muse's powers 
 To pass and cheer the wintry hours. 
 
CANTO III. 
 
 AT AND NEAR LINDENWALD. 
 
 Proud Lindenwald*s castle seems gloomy and 
 
 lone. 
 No trace or report from the captured is known, 
 But many sad days did the convent bell toll, 
 And masses were said for the rest of the soul 
 Of pious Earle Wilhelm and those of his train, 
 Whose fate was unknown, and the souls of the 
 
 slain. 
 But weeks passed away and yet dilgent ward 
 Is kept by the troops, who the castle still guard. 
 While trusty old Conrad would carefully stray. 
 As scout through the grove on each bright sum- 
 mer day. 
 
 2. 
 
 But whence comes yon horseman who silent and 
 
 slow 
 Is rising the hill from the valley below? 
 He reaches its summit and slackens his rein; 
 
 46 
 
47 
 
 Surveys the wide landscape, the river and plain. 
 No sound strikes his ear and no form meets his 
 
 eye. 
 He waits till assured that no person is nigh, 
 Then feeling secure 'neath the sheltering screen 
 Of lindens now clothed in their vesture of green, 
 He quickly dismounts with his pencil in hand. 
 And carefully sketches the wide spreading land; 
 The course of the river is penciled with care 
 And castle which stands on its border so fair. 
 And soon in his sketch correctly is shown 
 Each strong oaken gate and each bastion of 
 
 stone; 
 He numbers the guards with precision and skill. 
 As lightly they move in their afternoon drill. 
 He marks each embrasure and numbers each gun, 
 Whose place is disclosed by the rays of the sun. 
 Then traces each pathway and marks every 
 
 r^ad, 
 Which leads to the gates from the plain or the 
 
 wood. 
 Then slowly remounting, he muses awhile, 
 Looks back on the castle and says with a smile, 
 ^'Ere three days have numbered their swift pass- 
 ing hours. 
 
48 
 
 My banner shall float from proud Lindenwald^s 
 
 towers. 
 This forest and castle I claim as my own, 
 Aud value them more than my lost Tartar throne, 
 And though the Grand Vizier, Vienna should 
 
 gain, 
 rU hold my strong fortress nor envy his reign. '^ 
 
 Thus silently musing, he traces again 
 His path from the hill to the forest and plain, 
 Away to the east where against the clear skies. 
 Like dark distant clouds the blue mountains 
 
 arise. 
 In figures fantastic whose forests of green, 
 Portrayed by the last rays of sunlight are seen. 
 His long pointed lance and his turban of brown, 
 And crescent of gold which reflected the sun. 
 And trappings of war on his richly decked steed, 
 (Which showed in each movement great courage 
 
 and speed). 
 Did clearly reveal to the scout^s practiced eye. 
 In every movement the Musselman spy. 
 But little he dreamed that his movements 
 
 throughout, 
 
49 
 The day had been watched by an Austrian scout. 
 
 4 
 
 The gathering twilight now cast its lone spell. 
 
 In shadows of gloom over forest and dell, 
 
 No wonder the thoughts of the rider should 
 
 stray, 
 By memory guided, to scenes far away, 
 Samarcand's proud city, its palace and towers. 
 And scenes where, in childhood, he spent his 
 
 gay hours. 
 His days, as a student, his journeyings wide. 
 How through the same forests he fled with his 
 
 bride, 
 Who scarcely a year had enlivened his home, 
 Ere from his embrace she was borne to the 
 
 tomb; 
 He thought of the trust she bequeathed to his 
 
 care 
 His daughter, who soon his new palace should 
 
 share. 
 And in his proud castle, as princess, should 
 
 reign, 
 When peace should return to the country again. 
 
 7 
 
50 
 
 Thus musing, he brushed off the unbidden tear^ 
 When tramping of horses attracted his ear. 
 He reins up his steed, for he quickly must 
 
 know, 
 If he were pursued by a friend or a foe. 
 And soon he discerned by the fast failing Jight> 
 All armed for the conflict, an Austrian knight. 
 With lance held at rest, while he swiftly did 
 
 urge. 
 His strong, reeking steed on his foeman to 
 
 charge; 
 But quickly the Moslem, with skill bending low> 
 Adroitly avoided the Austrian's blow. 
 And threw his antagonist forward a space, 
 But quickly the foes were again face to face. 
 Each lance was now poised with its deadliest 
 
 aim, 
 As to the encounter the combatants came, 
 Their lances were broken and each ready blade. 
 Was drawn from its scabbard, when swift 
 
 through the glade 
 A score of armed horsemen advancing appear, 
 Who greet the brave Austrian knight with a 
 
 cheer. 
 
51 
 
 Ben Hassan now sees that his safety was flight 
 And soon disappeared in the shades of the 
 
 night; 
 His weary pursuers soon yield up the chase. 
 And back to the castle their journey retrace. 
 
 The shadows of night had now spread o^er the 
 
 land; 
 The breeze of the evening blew softly and bland, 
 The pale silver moon over forest and plain, 
 As queen of the night had asserted her reign. 
 And peace, the fair angel of heavenly birth. 
 Breathed quiet and rest o*er the slumbering 
 
 earth. 
 But to the lone horseman the evening breeze 
 Gave life to each shadow which fell from the 
 
 trees. 
 The shades of the forest an army appears; 
 The light moving branches seem glittering 
 
 spears. 
 But he who so oft *neath the shadows of night 
 Had led his brave troops in the raid or the flight, 
 Was little alarmed by the phantoms that move, 
 
52 
 
 (Created by moonlight) through forest and 
 
 grove. 
 Well trusting the strength of his unequalled 
 
 steed. 
 He urges his way with a confident speed, 
 Till broke in the east the first dawning of day. 
 And night's empty shadows had faded away. 
 
 Revealed by the first rays of sunlight are seen, 
 Like flocks in repose in the valley of green. 
 The wide-spreading tents and the warlike array,. 
 Reflecting the beams of the -opening day. 
 The shrill bugle's blast through the valley was 
 
 heard. 
 The Sultanas grand army thus greeted the morn. 
 And soon the vast host which so widely are 
 
 spread, 
 Have started to life as if raised from the dead. 
 The dark janizary in glittering steel, 
 And closely massed ranks in position now wheel. 
 While parks of artillery massive, and grand. 
 Have fired their salutes and in readiness stand, 
 And strong royal guards of armed horsemen ap- 
 pear, 
 
53 
 
 In battle well tried who scorned danger and fear. 
 And troops who belong to Ben Hassan^s com- 
 mand, 
 Who followed their chief from far Tartary's 
 
 land. 
 And troops of the Sultan whose greatest reward 
 Was honor secured by the lance and the sword, 
 And thousands of allies from different lands, 
 As soldiers are seen in their own native bands. 
 Wallachian footmen with lances and bows; 
 And troops from Circassia their banners dis- 
 close. 
 Arabian horsemen on fleet desert steeds, 
 Distinguished in war for their wild daring deeds. 
 The allies arrayed in their warlike array, 
 A hundred quaint badges and banners display. 
 The grand Vizier's banner with cresent of gold. 
 To lead the grand army is proudly unrolled. 
 Of every true Moslem this flag was the pride, 
 Which would this vast army to victory guide. 
 
 7. 
 Before the grand army Ben Hassan appears, 
 And quick to Mustapha his message he bears. 
 
54 
 
 His sketch of the castle and river displays, 
 And then from the place where the army now lays. 
 The route to Vienna he traces with skill, 
 Notes every stream, marks each valley and hill. 
 The city^s defences are noted with care, 
 The Austrian army how armed for the war. 
 Then tells how at last by concealment and flight, 
 He barely escaped midst the shadows of nights, 
 The Vizier, the well defined drawing surveys, 
 And gives to the Tartar well merited praise, 
 And promised the hero of pencil and sword. 
 That Lindenwald's castle should be his reward, 
 ^*Two thousand brave horsemen are at your 
 
 command. 
 To place the proud castle at once in your hand. 
 The flag of the prophet displayed from its 
 
 towers 
 Will be its protection from all Moslem powers. 
 For soon my grand army overwhelming in force, 
 Will sweep like a torrent, the land in its course/^ 
 
 8. 
 
 Ben Hassan scarce waited for food or for rest. 
 When back to the Danube he hastily pressed. 
 
55 
 
 And ere in the east rose the third morning sun, 
 The Danube was reached and the castle was won. 
 The flag of the prophet now floats from its 
 
 towers. 
 The Moslem reclines in its gardens and bowers. 
 The walls of the convent still sacred remain, 
 To shelter and care for the wounded and slain. 
 Where Moslem and Christian the sympathy 
 
 share, 
 Of the pious inmates whose labor and care, 
 Have touched the proud heart of the castle^s 
 
 new lord. 
 Who gives to the convent, protection and guard, 
 For still in his heart lingered many a truth. 
 Engraved on his mind in the days of his youth. 
 And with his lost bride, he in secret became 
 A Christian in faith though a Moslem in name. 
 But soon the loud note of the trumpet of war. 
 Is heard and the soldiers are marching once 
 
 more. 
 Ben Hassan, a troop of brave horsemen again. 
 Leads on to Vienna o'er mountain and plain, 
 Until the proud city's tall turrets arise 
 Like sun-gilded clouds in the far western skies. 
 
INTRODUCTION TO CANTO IV. 
 
 Constantinople's walls and towers, 
 The stronghold of the Moslem powers^ 
 Scene of historic days of yore, 
 1 trace thy history once more. 
 From old Byzantum^s humble walls , 
 Arose proud palaces and halls, 
 On which the famous Constantine 
 Displayed the cross, the Christian sign 
 And long the '' Eastern Empire's " sway. 
 Held the proud Saracen at bay. 
 While wide o'er nations near and far. 
 He waged a fierce, aggressive war. 
 The key to Oriental lands. 
 Bravely withstood the warlike bands 
 Till luxury, the bane of life. 
 Engendered feuds, nourished strife, 
 And the proud city's brilliant course. 
 Was weakened by the subtle force. 
 Of strife internal when the foe 
 Secured the city at a blow. 
 
 56 
 
57 
 
 The Moslem power at last has won 
 The city of the rising sun, 
 And Europe sees in eastern skies, 
 War's threatening cloud all dark arise, 
 And distant thunders, muttering low. 
 Presage the dread approaching foe. 
 The mosque assumes the sacred place, 
 Which Christian worship once did grace. 
 The crescent floats from every tower. 
 Where waved the Christian flag of yore. 
 The Christian slave, in bondage lone. 
 Now makes his unavailing moan. 
 So rose, so fell the city grand, 
 The glory of the eastern land, 
 
 8 
 
CANTO IV. 
 
 Scene : Constantinople . 
 
 Four long, weary months had departed and 
 
 gone. 
 Since in the slave market, as prisoners lone, 
 The countess and priest, with the guards, true 
 
 and bold, 
 And nobles and count were close guarded or 
 
 sold. 
 The fate of the captives, so cheerless and dark, 
 As captives and slaves, we now carefully mark. 
 
 2 
 
 A proud Turkish ship which had sailed from the 
 
 bay. 
 Had borne the brave knights, as slave-seamen, 
 
 away, 
 The guests, the rich nobles, confined in the 
 
 hold. 
 Redeemed from the Jew, by a large sum of gold, 
 Rejoiced in the promise to journey once more, 
 
 58 
 
59 
 
 To Egypt and thence to their own native shore. 
 But secretly destined again to be sold. 
 To add to their purchaser's ill-gotten gold. 
 The seamen, close-guarded, their duties pursue. 
 The nobles were watched by the shrewd wary 
 
 Jew, 
 Each Musselman seaman, well-armed as a 
 
 guard, 
 To quell any mutinous act was prepared. 
 
 3- 
 The ship richly laden for Egypt set sail 
 Borne safe through the straits with a fair, 
 
 gentle gale. 
 She reached the broad sea, disappeared from the 
 
 shore. 
 Was gone, and returned to her haven no more. 
 But rumor soon whispered, " her mutinous crew 
 Had steered her to Venice," which proved to be 
 
 true. 
 Where joyfully freed from grim slavery^s chain, 
 The captives returned to their country again. 
 
 4. 
 Four long weary months had departed and 
 gone, 
 
60 
 
 Since in their confinement as prisoners lone, 
 The priest and the countess had numbered each 
 
 day, 
 As time moved along its monotonous way. 
 Their place of confinement, two small curtained 
 
 halls. 
 That oped to a terrace overlooking the walls 
 And streets of the city and wide-spreading bay,. 
 Where many proud ships their broad penants 
 
 display, 
 The mosques with their minarets lofty and 
 
 high. 
 And palaces lifting their domes to the sky. 
 And long rows of gay, oriental bazaars. 
 With traders displaying their rich Eastern 
 
 wares, 
 And crowds in the streets clad in costumes 
 
 unique, 
 A strange foreign nation and city bespeak. 
 This small latticed terrace the captives may 
 
 share, 
 Together in converse, reflection or prayer 
 Their only companion a young female ward. 
 Who met them each day with a servant and 
 
 guard, 
 
61 
 
 To learn from the countess to write and to read, 
 And learn from the priest his religion and creed, 
 An hour in the morning her lessons were read, 
 An hour at evening when vespers were said, 
 But all other converse was strictly forbade, 
 Between her instructors and Agnis the maid. 
 A trusty old eunuch, El Abu by name, 
 As guard and attendant at each lesson came. 
 And one female servant whose nation and race. 
 And language of German descent we might 
 
 trace. 
 She seemed a kind angel sent only to cheer. 
 The captives' sad moments of languor and fear. 
 Her features more fair than the maids of her 
 
 race. 
 Were such as an artist with pleasure might trace. 
 Her cheerful dark eye and her freedom and ease, 
 Like sunshine seemed only to lighten and please. 
 ** How like my lost Angle our pupil appears,'* 
 Priest Ludwig oft sighed, scarce suppressing his 
 
 tears. 
 
 5 
 Four months have now passed and Count 
 
 Albrecht alone, 
 
62 
 
 Is lost to his friends and his fate is unknown. 
 Yet traced to the Grand Vizier's gardens of 
 
 green. 
 Where three foreign slaves at their labors are 
 
 seen, 
 Two slaves from Dongola half naked appear. 
 Who toil with the spade or huge burdens they 
 
 bear. 
 Content with their fortunes, for freedom^s fair 
 
 sun, 
 Upon their dark intellects never had shown. 
 The other impatiently passes his hours, 
 His task is to nurture the fruits and the flowers, 
 His tall, manly form and his bold youthful face. 
 Revealed that he came of a noble race. 
 His hunter's costume, though much faded and 
 
 worn. 
 Still marked the true knight of high lineage born. 
 That this is Count Albrecht, I need not declare. 
 Who, with his dark comrades, their labors must 
 
 share. 
 
 6 
 
 A Nubian eunuch, as master and ward. 
 
 Held over the laborers close watch and guard. 
 
63 
 
 Though cruel and base, like the men of his tribe, 
 ^as easily swayed by some trifling bribe, 
 And now, as the vizier is gone to the war, 
 His watch was performed with less vigilant care. 
 When dames from the harems would visit the 
 
 bowers, 
 CountAlbrecht oft gathered a bouquet of flowers, 
 Which, at their request and the eunuchs com- 
 mand. 
 The captive would place in some veiled female 
 
 hand, 
 But true to her nature, the closely veiled dame, 
 Though feigning to start with confusion and 
 
 shame. 
 Would, by some mishap, for a moment displace; 
 Her veil, thus disclosing her Caucasian face. 
 But oft as she thus broke tlieharem^s command, 
 She placed a sly gift in the dark eunuch*s hand, 
 And greeted the slave with a look and a smile. 
 Which seemed like a charm his sad fate to be- 
 guile. 
 
 7 
 Count Albrecht, when staying at noontide alone 
 His name had inscribed on a smooth fountain 
 stone. 
 
64 
 
 Which soon the young pupil's inquisitive eye 
 In viewing the fountain^ had chanced to spy. 
 She copied the name with precision and care, 
 And to her instructor the writing did bear^ 
 And placed in her hand and exclaimed with 
 
 delight, 
 ** Just see my loved tutor, how well I can write," 
 As soon as the Countess the writing had 
 
 read, 
 '*My son," she exclaimed, "is he living or 
 
 dead?" 
 But all further converse the eunuch forbade, 
 And harshly upbraided the Countess and 
 
 maid. 
 But Agnis, with countenance gentle and bold. 
 Appeased his great wrath with a present of 
 
 gold, 
 But secretly purposed by stealth or by fee. 
 Young Albrecht, the son of her tutor to see, 
 Attended alone by her own trusty maid, 
 She sought the next noontide, the garden's cool 
 
 shade. 
 Ere yet the old eunuch from midday repose, 
 To rouse to his duties or labor arose, 
 
65 
 
 And nearing the fountain, she heard the low 
 
 tone. 
 The song of the slave as he sat sad and lone. 
 
 SONG OF THE SLAVE. 
 
 O far distant country farewell. 
 
 Thy scenes I still cherish and love. 
 Each flight of vain fancy its legend shall tell, 
 Each dream of the night like a magical spell, 
 A kind, soothing message shall prove. 
 
 The fountain which sparkles so bright. 
 
 The flower so blooming and gay, 
 The sun which dispels the lone shadows of 
 
 night. 
 And gilds the wide landscape with beauty and 
 light, 
 Recall my loved home far away. 
 What magic has nature or art, 
 
 To cheer the sad life of a slave? 
 No sparkling fountain can soothe the lone heart 
 No sunshine can soften adversity's dart. 
 
 No quiet or rest but the grave. 
 O, could I a moment but hear 
 
 
G6 
 
 My own native language again. 
 A word of true friendship to fall on my ear. 
 That word would my sorrow and loneliness 
 cheer. 
 
 But hope's bright illusions are vain. 
 
 He ceased and a low gentle voice strikes his 
 ear. 
 
 It speaks his own language in words of true 
 cheer. 
 
 It bids him take courage, for life's darkest night 
 
 Will vanish away at the sun's early light. 
 
 Count Albrecht was filled with delight and sur- 
 prise; 
 
 An angel of mercy sent down from the skies. 
 
 Less welcome had been to the prisoner's 
 heart, 
 
 But ere he replied his new friend must depart. 
 
 The voice of the Nubian falls on his ear 
 
 With little of comfort and little of cheer. 
 
 The slaves at their labors are busy once more, 
 
 But time flies more light with the count than be- 
 fore, 
 
 For oft from the maiden, a word or a smile. 
 
67 
 
 Though stealthily given, his toils would beguile. 
 At length the old eunuch by bribery won, 
 Would suffer the pair to hold converse alone. 
 
 8. 
 
 But time in his journey rolls quietly on, 
 
 Each day is now passed as the day that is gone. 
 
 A few janizaries still trusty but old, 
 
 As guards of the palace their office still hold. 
 
 While, eunuchs the harem and gardens still 
 
 guard, 
 And over the slaves hold dominion and ward, 
 For with the GrandVizier to conquest and war. 
 Each soldier had gone who his weapons could 
 
 bear. 
 The harem and slaves loosely guaded might now 
 The half defined traits of their natures avow. 
 The females secure from each curious eye. 
 Oft in their seclusion for liberty sigh, 
 Or when in the gardens permitted to stray, 
 Like children engage in their innocent play, 
 Or by the clear fountains reclining at ease. 
 Inhale the rich odors of flowers in the breeze. 
 And in their dull worship oft utter the prayer. 
 
68 
 
 That no foreign dames might their lord^s favor 
 
 share, 
 And many sly looks from the half removed veil 
 Expressed to the Count more than language 
 
 could tell. 
 Thus months pass away and Count Albrecht^s 
 
 lone hours, 
 Are spent at his toil Viidst the fountains and 
 
 flowers. 
 Priest Ludwig his prayers offers early and late^ 
 But quietly yields to the mandate of fate, 
 While Countess Maria still sadly recalls 
 Her home once so pleasant in Lindenwald's 
 
 halls. 
 But little she dreams in her low silent hours. 
 The flag of the Musselman floats from its 
 
 towers, 
 And little Priest Ludwig has dreamed the strange 
 
 truth. 
 That he whom he serves was his rival in youth, 
 
 9 
 
 But time, which no rest and no weariness knows 
 At length bring the day to a quiet repose. 
 
69 
 
 They hear from the mosques the loud echoing 
 
 bells. 
 Whose summons to prayer on the evening breeze 
 
 swells, 
 The last cheerful ray of the day's fading light. 
 Has smiled on the city a tranquil good night, 
 The shadows no longer from minarets tall 
 Across the Bosphorus like dark phantoms fall, 
 And twilight which lingered on mountain and 
 
 hill, 
 Has faded, and nature is quiet and still. 
 No sound on the streets or the ramparts is 
 
 heard, 
 Save lightly the tread of the armed city guard. 
 Whose phantom-like figure appears on the wall, 
 Like shadowy images, ghostly and tall. 
 A low murmur rises amidst the still gloom. 
 As each Moslem looks toward the great prophet's 
 
 tomb 
 And prays for success to Al Raschid's brave 
 
 band. 
 Who march the next morn for the Austrian 
 
 land. 
 The prayers of the captives w^hich often before 
 
70 
 
 Were offered half doubting, are offered once 
 
 more. 
 But little they think that fair liberty's boon 
 For which they oft prayed, would be granted so 
 
 soon. 
 But slumber, the angel of peace, gently waves^ 
 Her banner alike over Sultan and slaves, 
 And soon the proud city, in night's vesture 
 
 dressed, 
 Is peacefully sunk into quiet and rest. 
 
INTRODUCTION TO CANTO V. 
 
 When slavery with ruthless hands, 
 Bound half the earth with iron bands. 
 When men like chattels bought and sold, 
 Were valued by their price in gold. 
 When luckless prisoners of war, 
 The slaves unhappy lot must share. 
 The name of liberty was then 
 Scarce known among the tribes of men. 
 Till freedom, Heaven^s best gift to earth, 
 A feeble streamlet, sprung to birth. 
 First issuing from a cloud crowned hill. 
 At length becomes a sparkling rill, 
 Till joined by many a friendly tide, 
 It forms a river deep and wide. 
 While flowers along its borders bloom 
 And yield the air a sweet perfume, 
 While many a green overhanging bough, 
 Kisses the crystal v/ave below; 
 So liberty, though fettered long. 
 Looses at length the tyrant thong; 
 
 71 
 
72 
 
 Although in vain to check its course, 
 He proudly hurles his waning force, 
 And strives with fetters still to bind 
 The powers of body and of mind, 
 The soul, a native of the skies. 
 To greater freedom still shall rise, 
 Till wide shall float o'er land and sea 
 The glorious name of liberty. 
 
CANTO V. 
 
 Proud Constantinople awakens once more, 
 And welcomes the dawn by the cannon's loud 
 
 roar, 
 The troops of Al Raschid arose with the sun. 
 To-day is their long-wished-for journey begun. 
 The Sultanas grand army, to conquest now led 
 By warlike Mustapha, already, are spread 
 Wide over the plains of the Danube afar, 
 And Austria shakes with the thunders of war. 
 The troops of Al Raschid impatiently wait, 
 And fancy the sun on that morning was late, 
 So eager to reach the Grand Vizier's command. 
 And join in the wars in a far distant land. 
 While visions of conquest and booty combined. 
 To rouse the wild powers of each fierce warlike 
 
 mind. 
 For dull formal worship but little they care. 
 Or bells of the mosques which are calling to 
 
 prayer. 
 But when for departure the signal is given, 
 
 10 73 
 
74 
 
 A shout from the troops wakes the earth and the 
 
 heaven^ 
 And many a cheer from the gathering crowd, 
 Salutes the gay riders, so gallant and proud; 
 But less were the cheers as they passed from the 
 
 gate. 
 Had some truthful prophet predicted their fate. 
 
 More quiet the scene at the Grand Vizier's gate 
 Where six mounted guards, as an escort, await 
 The young Tartar princess, the Countess and 
 
 maid, 
 And servants to join in the grand cavalcade. 
 Who marching that morning for battle pre- 
 pared, 
 Ben Hassan^s fair daughter securely must guard, 
 And safely to Lindenwald's castle must bring 
 The maid where her father would rule as a king. 
 The gate of the palace, which long months 
 
 before. 
 Was closed on the captives, is opened once 
 
 more, 
 And through the broad portals they silently 
 passed, 
 
75 
 
 One look at its turrets, that look was the last. 
 Yet scarce could refrain from a half-suppressed 
 
 sigh, 
 As gladly they bid the proud palace good-bye. 
 The princess was placed on a charger of white, 
 Whose richly-gilt trappings were brilliant and 
 
 bright. 
 The countess and maid were on palfries of grey. 
 No ornaments bore, but in humble array, 
 While Ludwig and Abu, as servants arrayed. 
 Complete the array of the small cavalcade, 
 And soon from the gates, without pomp or dis- 
 play, 
 The company passed from the city away, 
 And joined the grand troop on a neighboring 
 
 height. 
 From which the proud city lay full in their 
 
 sight, 
 Its palaces grand, and its lofty built towers, 
 Displaying the sultan's rich splendors and 
 
 powers. 
 And many proud ships in the wide-placid bay. 
 Reflected the beams of the bright sunny ray, 
 As gaily was spread the broad pennant and 
 
 sail, 
 
76 
 
 All ready to welcome the breeze or the gale. 
 While far to the West, Against the clear cloudless 
 
 skies, 
 A ridge of blue mountains, like clouds seem to 
 
 rise. 
 The scene was delightful, no pencil could trace^ 
 A scene of such beauty, such grandeur and 
 
 grace. 
 The maiden enchanted with rapture beholds. 
 The scene which such varied beauty unfolds. 
 And even the captives enjoy with a smile 
 The scenes which their sorrowful moments be-- 
 guile. 
 
 3 
 The army here rest and the Pasha prepares 
 His troops for their march to the Austrian 
 
 wars. 
 A troop of light horsemen the cavalcade leads^ 
 With scimitars armed on the fleetest steeds. 
 These troops with Al Raschid in many a raid. 
 Had feats of great daring and prowess dis- 
 played, 
 While riders less skilled in the science of war 
 Their heavier lances and scimitars bear, 
 
77 
 
 While fifty strong horses the large burdens 
 
 bear 
 Of stores which the troops in their passage must 
 
 share. 
 Such was the array which awaits the command 
 Of Pasha Al Raschid, as chief of the band. 
 His troops soon arranged with precision and 
 
 skill, 
 Are hastily marched from the brow of the hill, 
 In silence and order the cavalcade pressed 
 Toward the blue mountains afar in the west. 
 One look is now cast with a smile or a sigh, 
 As each bids the city a final good-bye, 
 While sunshine of hope or foreboding of ill 
 Through every breast sent its warmth or its 
 
 chill. 
 
 4 
 
 And wide spreading landscape now opens to 
 
 view, 
 And nature's wild beauties with scenes ever 
 
 new, 
 While all seem to welcome the free, bracing air, 
 And almost forget their past sorrow and care. 
 The hours swiftly fly till far in the west, 
 
78 
 
 The sun's setting rays gild the blue mountain 
 
 crest, 
 A border of gold on the summits of grey. 
 The day-king^s last smile as his light fades 
 
 away. 
 Now in a green glade by the side of a rill. 
 Which playfully leaps from a neighboring hill, 
 The tents are soon pitched and the twilight has 
 
 spread. 
 Her mantle of peace, o'er the traveler's bed. 
 The camp-fires are lighted, each picket and 
 
 guard 
 Is duly arranged for the nightwatch and ward, 
 No sound strikes the ear but the night bird's wild 
 
 song, 
 And murmuring stream as it dances along. 
 
 4. 
 
 The princess sat watching the last feeble ray 
 Of daylight, so peacefully fading away. 
 Now turned to the countess, who silently sate. 
 And mused on the changes of fortune and fate, 
 " Pray tell me, kind Christian," she thoughtfully 
 said, 
 
79 
 
 *^* From what distant land, as a prisoner led, 
 You entered the Grand Vizier's palace and why 
 The tear that so often appears in your eye ? 
 I've learned your religion and language to love, 
 And now as your pupil ungrateful would prove, 
 To not ask the tale of your country and home, 
 As on our long journey together we roam." 
 The Countess was silent, but soon with a sigh, 
 Replied as she brushed the sad tear from her 
 
 eye, 
 **As dim in the West I still trace the last gleam 
 Of daylight, so lingers the still pleasant dream, 
 Of riches and grandeur which once were my lot. 
 Though now they have faded can ne'er be forgot. 
 Afar on the Danube a palace of state. 
 And kindred who ranked with the wealthy and 
 
 great. 
 But sorrow's dark midnight at noonday arose, 
 While hunting, our band were surrounded by 
 
 foes, 
 Earle Wilhelm my husband was slain, and my 
 
 son 
 Was captured like me and his fate is unknown, 
 And now the same Pasha our escort commands. 
 
80 
 
 Who led us as slaves from our own native lands, 
 
 But little to hope and much evil to fear. 
 
 Oh well may I still drop the captive's lone tear. 
 
 Farewell days of pleasure, how deeply the dart 
 
 Of memory pierces the sorrowing heart. 
 
 But one ray of sunshine has entered my room, 
 
 But one gleam of pleasure enlivened my gloom. 
 
 In months of captivity, your cheerful smile 
 
 Would often my loneliest moments beguile; 
 
 And oft have I thought, while engaged at my task 
 
 As friendly instructor, I gladly would ask, 
 
 The tale of your life and why thus your proud 
 
 sire 
 Should Christians as teachers thus strangely 
 
 require/* 
 
 S 
 "They call me a princess/' the maiden replied, 
 "But little of honor and little of pride, 
 I trace in my life, for the orphan's lone state. 
 And exile from home seems at present my fate. 
 Two years have thus passed and but little I 
 
 grieve, 
 The city and palace forever to leave. 
 I dwelt in the palace a stranger alone^ 
 
81 
 
 The proud city's pleasures to me were unknown, 
 The Grand Vizier's gardens, the harem and 
 
 courts 
 And rooms of my teacher, my only resort; 
 My father, a prince of a proud Tartar race, 
 Whose line of descent from the Caliphs could 
 
 trace. 
 Possessed a grand palace where fountains and 
 
 flowers 
 Adorned the smooth walks and the green shady 
 
 bowers, 
 Where songbirds with varied and beautiful 
 
 wing. 
 Amidst the cool arbors their sweet notes would 
 
 sing. 
 And oft would I ask why the grim soldier guard 
 Should on the high walls keep such close watch 
 
 and ward. 
 For little I knew and as little did care 
 To know the true meaning of peace or ot war. 
 Thus, childhood soon passed like the springtime 
 
 away. 
 And youth brought its pleasures all cheerful and 
 
 gay, 
 
 11 
 
83 
 
 With only one cloud on my sunshine so fair. 
 My father seemed burdened with some secret 
 
 care; 
 I viewed his tall form with affection and pride, 
 And always was happiest when at his side. 
 
 6. 
 
 One bright summer morning ere yet the first 
 
 ray 
 Of sunshine had driven the twilight away, 
 My father's proud war steed was brought to the 
 
 gate, 
 Where twenty armed riders his coming await. 
 His armor seemed brighter than ever before; 
 A tall plume of black in his turban he wore; 
 He springs to the saddle, a hasty good-bye 
 Is spoken and forward the cavalcade fly. 
 My mind seemed oppressed with an ominous 
 
 gloom^ 
 As slowly again I returned to my room, 
 My mother's loved portrait I sought on the wall. 
 And tried her remembrance in vain to recall. 
 For, taught from my childhood her name to 
 
 revere, 
 
83 
 
 A look at her picture brought something of cheer. 
 The hours slowly passed, and when brilliant and 
 
 high 
 The sun had ascended the clear distant sky, 
 When low distant thunder attracted my ear. 
 Which seemed at each moment more frequent 
 
 and near, 
 And dark wreaths of smoke in the distance 
 
 arise^ 
 And spread like a cloud in the darkening skies, 
 I sought my attendants, who trembling stood 
 And listened with wonder and terrified mood. 
 Until an old servant, Al Abi by name. 
 In haste to the garden as messenger came 
 And bade us at once to the palace repair. 
 For raging without were the dangers of war, 
 I saw the dense cloud still more dark than before 
 And felt the walls shake by the cannon's loud 
 
 roar; 
 I listened in terror as hours passed away 
 Till gloomily faded the light of the day. 
 
 7 
 
 But soon hasty footsteps were heard at my 
 door, 
 
84 
 
 My father had entered my chamber once more ; 
 Although in the darkness, I knew his kind 
 
 voice 
 I fly to his arms and a moment rejoice. 
 But borne from my chamber I yield to surprise 
 As swift from the halls of the palace he flies, 
 I hear the gates crash and the enemy's cheers, 
 As swift through the garden his burden he bears. 
 We reach a dark alley where steeds waiting 
 
 stand; 
 We mount and away, while my father's strong 
 
 hand 
 Guides safely our steeds, as with firm steady 
 
 rein 
 We swiftly are borne o'er the wide spreading 
 
 plain, 
 The pale moon soon rises and long shadows 
 
 fall. 
 From trees and from hillocks, like ghosts grim 
 
 and tall, 
 While silence unbroken, so mystic did seem, 
 I though it some spell or a magical dream. 
 Or like our great prophet, whose journey of 
 
 fame, 
 
85 
 
 At midnight had rendered immortal his name. 
 Thus onward we rode, till the moon rising high. 
 Through dun clouds of smoke which still rose 
 
 in the sky. 
 Revealed the dark forms of a cluster of trees 
 With long pendant branches which waved in the 
 
 breeze. 
 And gave in low cadence a murmuring sound, 
 Above a pure fountain which burst from the 
 
 ground, 
 And seemed like the voice of some mythical 
 
 sprite. 
 Which sang its weird lay at the lone hours of 
 
 night. 
 We halted in silence and soon at the wave, 
 Our thirst was assuaged and our temples we 
 
 lave. 
 Then seated in silence when weeping, I cried, 
 ^*0 father, why take we this strange midnight 
 
 ride?*' 
 He sat for a moment in silence, then said, 
 As gently he laid his right hand on my head, 
 ^^The stern power of fate has sent forth its 
 
 decree. 
 
86 
 
 My kingdom is lost; to the Sultan I flee, 
 
 To offer the service of my faithful band 
 
 And win a new kingdom in some distant land. 
 
 But long is our journey o^er mountain and 
 
 plain, 
 So rest till the morning shall rouse us again. 
 Your faithful maid, Zola, your journey shall 
 
 share, 
 And trusty El Abu your steed shall prepare." 
 All weary with riding with sorrow oppressed, 
 I soon found in slumber my much needed rest. 
 When wakened at sunrise I saw with surprise, 
 A wide spreading pl^ain and huge mountains 
 
 arise, 
 A troop of armed horseman in warlike array. 
 Led on by my father, were soon on their way. 
 Across the wide plains, while arranged in the 
 
 rear 
 My own ready steed and companions appear. 
 I hastily mounted, and many a day 
 We far to the west were pursuing our way. 
 I learned with much skill my fleet courser t© 
 
 guide. 
 And like a trained horseman in safety to ride. 
 
87 
 
 The free mountain air, both in sunshine and 
 
 storm, 
 Gave vigor and health to my delicate form. 
 At length our long journey was brought to a 
 
 close. 
 And Constantinople's tall turrets arose 
 Like signals displayed in the rays of the sun, 
 To tell the glad news that our journey was 
 
 done, 
 The Grand Vizier's palace seemed gloomy and 
 
 lone. 
 For soon to the war my loved father had gone. 
 Thus time passed away till as teachers you 
 
 came, 
 Though nothing I knew of your nation and 
 
 name, 
 But time swiftly flies and the gleam in the west 
 Has faded to-night and our bodies must rest, 
 So lady, good night, for mystery is told, 
 The future alone can our fortunes unfold." 
 
 8 
 While thus the young princess and countess 
 
 relate 
 Their varied changes of fortune and fate. 
 
88 
 
 Two forms in the deepening twilight are seen 
 Beside a huge tent on a mattress of green; 
 The Pasha, El Raschid, and Oran his aid, 
 Beside them their weapons and armor were laid 
 Each sits with his pipe and in silence profound. 
 While odors narcotic are gathering round. 
 Each only seemed watching the blue curling 
 
 smoke, 
 Arise in dense vapors, till Oran thus spoke: 
 ^*What means noble Pasha our present array ? 
 I little can guess of our female display. 
 We seem but an escort in safety to guide 
 That young Tartar maiden (adorned as a bride,) 
 And her two attendants of Austrian race; 
 (To escort these Christians would seem a dis- 
 grace 
 To troops of the Sultan.) A strange cavalcade, 
 Pray tell why our troop should thus escort the 
 
 maid?'* 
 He ceased and the vapors narcotic once more, 
 Arose from his pipe while he sat as before. 
 When turning to Oran, the Pasha replied. 
 As thoughtfully laying his pipe at his side: 
 ^^Ben Hassan, a prince who from Tartary came, 
 
89 
 
 Now next to the Vizier in honor and fame, 
 Receives as reward for his victories won; 
 A castle and kingdom to hold as his own. 
 Much to the famed Tartar the Vizier now owes, 
 Who speaks the same language now used by 
 
 our foes. 
 And often arrayed in a peasant's disguise, 
 Their number and strength he correctly des- 
 cries. 
 His castle is furnished in Orient pride, 
 "Tis thither his daughter in safety we guide. 
 To dwell as a princess; and then with our band. 
 We hasten to join the grand Vizier^s command. 
 But why these two Christians our escort should 
 
 share, 
 As aid to the princess but little I care. 
 But why as a guide that Hungarian knight, 
 Who rides with such skill on his palfrey of 
 
 white, 
 Though bearing the Grand Vizier's orders and 
 
 seal. 
 Does some secret wrong in his actions reveal. 
 He seems to know little of country or place. 
 And something unsafe in his movements I trace, 
 
 13 
 
90 
 
 Said Oran, "perchance some shrewd Austrian spy- 
 Bears counterfeit orders. If so, let him die/' 
 "Look well to his movements/' the Pasha re- 
 plied, 
 •*No spy or deceiver will long be our guide." 
 
 9 
 The last gleam of daylight now fades in the west. 
 The camp is all quiet, the soldiers at rest. 
 And long gloomy shadows, like spectres of 
 
 night. 
 Are thrown from each tent by the campfire's dim 
 
 light. 
 The tread of the sentinels lightly is heard. 
 Though scarcely a twig or a leaflet is stirred, 
 The night bird's soft notes, from her perch in 
 
 the trees 
 Blend softly and low with the murmuring 
 
 breeze. 
 Inviting the weary to quiet repose. 
 And soothing the prisoners' sorrows and woes. 
 
 ID 
 
 The campfires grow dim and the midnight's lone 
 hour. 
 
91 
 
 Is gently disf)ensing its sleep-dealing power. 
 The dull, drowsy sentinel ceases to move. 
 And silence holds reign over forest and grove, 
 But now a low step and a movement is heard. 
 Though scarcely a twig or a leaflet is stirred, 
 And soon to the tent of the princess we trace 
 A light moving form with a close, muffled face. 
 The princess awaits with a listening ear. 
 Impatient the low whispered message to hear, 
 •^ Fair Agnis/' he whispered, ^^ your passport 
 
 well tried. 
 As yet has the Pasha's detection defied, 
 To-morrow (no doubt) will the secret reveal, 
 Which during the day I could scarcely conceal, 
 But now I must bid you a hasty good-bye. 
 And favored by darkness for safety must fly. 
 This signet and ring in your hand I now place. 
 They bear the device of my castle and race. 
 In Lindenwald's castle the signet is known. ^' 
 Thus whispered Count Albrecht and quickly 
 
 was gone. 
 The Countess who lay with a listening ear 
 The stranger's low whisper distinctly could 
 
 hear. 
 
92 
 
 At mention of Lindenwald started amazed, 
 And at the strange visitor wondering gazed, 
 But hid was his face by the darkness of night. 
 And e'er she could speak he had vanished from 
 
 sight. 
 ^* O say was it real, dear Princess explain. 
 Or was it a dream of my feverish brain?" 
 *^No phantom or dream but an Austrian knight^ 
 A captive and slave whom I aided in flight. 
 A passport and orders designed for a guide 
 ^^With the seal of the Vizier,'* the maiden re- 
 plied, 
 "I stole and conveyed to this Austrian slave. 
 Sole heir to a nobleman gallant and brave, 
 And lord of a castle with honor and power, 
 Afar on the Danube. But late is the hour, 
 And long is our journey over mountain and 
 
 plain, 
 A season of slumber and rest we must gain." 
 A whispered good-night to each other they say. 
 And soon are forgotten the scenes of the day, 
 
INTRODUCTION TO CANTO VI. 
 
 The sunlight gilds the waking earth 
 A new creation springs to birth; 
 Unreal fancy^s cheating dreams. 
 Vanish before the morning beams. 
 All nature springs to life again, 
 And greets the day klng^s busy reign. 
 The plodding herd again has strayed 
 To pasture in the grassy glade. 
 The eagle from the lofty height, 
 Of highest cliff now takes his flight; 
 And every forest copse and grove 
 Echoes the songbird^s lay of love. 
 And wakened nature feels again. 
 The thrill of life through every vein; 
 While man, ordained to toil and care, 
 Awakes his destined lot to share. 
 The peasant born to daily toil. 
 Both lord and vassal of the soil. 
 Content the furrowed field to tread. 
 As tribute gains his daily bread. 
 
 93 
 
94 
 
 The humble laborer obeys « 
 
 The mandate of the sun^s first rays 
 
 And rouses from his sweet repose, 
 
 To labor till the day shall close. 
 
 While the pale invalid can trace 
 
 The beam that through his window plays, 
 
 And covets more than fame or wealth 
 
 The humble toiler's robust health. 
 
 The soldier by the morning light 
 
 Foresees the march of deadly fight. 
 
 While the lone slave or prisoner, 
 
 Awakes to see dispelled once more. 
 
 Like mists before the morning beams. 
 
 His peaceful slumbers, friendly dreams; 
 
 These varied scenes each morning brings 
 
 To toilers, beggars, slaves and kings, 
 
 What hopes, what fears, what joy, what pain. 
 
 Awakes to greet the day king^s reign. 
 
CANTO VI. 
 
 Now bright in the east gleams the first 
 
 morning ray 
 And twilight^s dim shadows are changed into 
 
 day. 
 The mountains of blue which are seen in the 
 
 west, 
 Bear on their tall summits, a rich golden crest, 
 The blithe woodland songster with amorous 
 
 lay, 
 Hails with her sweet carol the opening day. 
 And nature in concert does cheerfully join, 
 To welcome the morning with honors divine. 
 The camp is astir and the buglers shrill notes, 
 In echoing strains on the morning breeze floats, 
 Awarning the night prowling wolf to his lair. 
 And rousing the soldier to duty and prayer. 
 All hands are uplifted and honors divine 
 Are paid to the prophet of Mecca's famed shrine, 
 But ere the last echo had died on the breeze, 
 Two horsemen approaching, the sentinel sees, 
 
 95 
 
96 
 
 And with a loud signal the Pasha alarms. 
 Who hastily orders the soldiers to arms. 
 The horsemen approach and an interview claim 
 With Fasha Al Raschid who greets them by name. 
 Obidah, who came to the army as guide. 
 Across the wide plains was a soldier well tried. 
 Who once, with Al Raschid, as comrade in war. 
 Had gained much renown, and bore many a scar. 
 And Osman, the chief of Mustapha's home 
 
 guard, 
 Who long had his favor and confidence shared. 
 The greeting, though friendly, was hurried, for 
 
 each 
 Had business of weight which he quickly would 
 
 reach. 
 Obidah, despatched from the Austrian war, 
 The vizier's reports to the Sultan to bear. 
 And then act as guide to Al Raschid now broke 
 The ominous silence, and hastily spoke, 
 
 OBIDAH^S TALE. 
 
 Detailed by the vizier dispatches to bear 
 To you and the Sultan, I came from the war, 
 Arrived at the palace; the evening was late. 
 
97 
 
 My pass from the vizier was known at his gate, 
 When, with my long journey, and travels op- 
 pressed, 
 I sought till the morning my much needed rest. 
 I wakened again on the morrow at dawn. 
 And soon to the Sultanas grand palace had 
 
 gone. 
 My pass was received, but how great my surprise, 
 When frowning, the warder in anger now cries: 
 ^^ What means this blank passport, this counter- 
 feit seal. 
 Does some secret spy, or some traitor reveal?" 
 ^^My papers were seized, and in fetters I lay. 
 Till two weary days had passed sadly away. 
 And then brought in chains to the palace of 
 
 state, 
 In which the grand Sultan and counsellers sate. 
 The council unsealed my despatches with care, 
 Tha seal of the Vizier most clearly they bear. 
 But why should a blank as my passport be 
 
 found, 
 Was still to the council a secret profound, 
 *Terhaps," I replied, "that some servant in haste, 
 Or some secret foe had my passport misplaced, 
 
 13 
 
98 
 
 I hoped at the grand Vizier's palace to find. 
 My passport by fraud or mistake left behind. 
 At length I was freed from all durance and 
 
 blame, 
 A pass was prepared in the Sultanas own name. 
 Was placed in my hand with the order once 
 
 more. 
 My chains to remove and my freedom restore. 
 I flew to the Grand Vizier's palace again, 
 And sought for my pass, but my search was in 
 
 vain. 
 This closes my tale, and Lord Osman full well 
 Can vouch for its truth and the sequel can tell.^^ 
 
 Lord Osman, a pasha well stricken in years, 
 By age and hard service unfit for the wars, 
 Yet active and faithful, the home guards com- 
 mand 
 And care of the palace were left in his hand. 
 As Obidah ended thus Osmon relates 
 His tale. "As Obidah retired from the gates 
 To visit the Sultan; my labor and care, 
 Were for its long journey your train to prepare* 
 
99 
 
 The Grand Vizier's palace was placed in com- 
 mand. 
 Of Hazor, my aid, till the march of your band. 
 But yesterday morn, when your well-equipped 
 
 train. 
 Was well on its march for the far-distant plain, 
 Again to the palace in haste I returned. 
 And quickly from Hazor the strange tidings 
 
 learned. 
 That late on that morning a stranger in haste, 
 Before him a passport and order had placed; 
 The name and the seal of the Vizier it bore, 
 (Well known for he often had seen it before,) 
 Declaring the bearer was sent as a guide, 
 With your cavalcade to Vienna to ride. 
 It ordered a steed, the most fleet then at hand. 
 Should quickly be placed at the bearer^s com- 
 mand. 
 He mounted a favorite charger of white, 
 A wave of his hand and he vanished from sight, 
 I chided my aid, but he answering said: 
 "The Vizier^s command's must be promptly 
 
 obeyed, 
 To question his orders were loss of my head." 
 
100 
 
 While thus we conversed in great terror there 
 
 came, 
 A trusty old watchman, Abdallah by name, 
 And says that a slave from the gardens that 
 
 night 
 By some unknown means had effected his flight. 
 The Austrian count, whom Al Raschid the brave 
 Had captured and sold to his lord as a slave. 
 But while the old soldier his story relates, 
 Obidah again has appeared at the gates, 
 All haggard and pale and his tall agile form 
 Bowed like some tall pine which is rent by the 
 
 storm. 
 His limbs scarcely able their weight to sustain; 
 Still bore the deep marks of the fetter and 
 
 chain, 
 His garments were stained by the dungeon's 
 
 damp mold; 
 His tale with a faltering accent he told, 
 But rest and refreshment within a few hours. 
 Had almost restored his lost vigor and powers. 
 We sought for his passport ; our search was in 
 
 vain. 
 And fearing som.e traitor had joined in you 
 
 train. 
 
101 
 
 We mounted at midnight and hastened away, 
 Your army to reach by the dawning of day. 
 
 He ceased and awaited the Pasha's reply. 
 
 If thunder had burst from the clear morning 
 
 sky. 
 Or earthquake had riven the valley and plain, 
 No deeper Al Raschid^s amazement had been. 
 He stood for a moment in silence profound 
 And then aloud blast wakes the forest around. 
 All gather in haste the bugle's alarms. 
 And soon the whole troop are assembled in 
 
 arms, 
 The rolls are soon called and each dark turbaned 
 
 chief, 
 Reports his full band to the Pasha in brief, 
 But yesterday's guide with his charger of white, 
 Had fled from the camp in the darkness of night 
 The sentinels questioned, each stoutly denies 
 That sleep for a moment had darkened his eyes, 
 And no flying horseman had any one seen, 
 Though each guard declared he most watchful 
 
 had been. 
 
102 
 
 The Pasha now ordered each sentinel's head, 
 Be struck from his body, which soon was obeyed 
 A score of fleet horsemen then flyover the plain. 
 Through forest and valley some tidings to gain. 
 Or trace of the fugitive Austrian knight 
 Who thus in the darkness had taken his flight. 
 
 4 
 
 In anger old Osman has taken his way, 
 Again to the city and on the ne^t day, 
 The warder who guarded the Grand Vizier's 
 
 gate, 
 And eunuch who watched o'er the gardens of 
 
 state. 
 And guarded the harem by Osman's command, 
 Were slain by the stern executioner's hand. 
 And rumors were whispered, yet none dare to 
 
 state, 
 A dame from the harem did share the same 
 
 fate. 
 
 The camp of Al Raschid we visit again, 
 Where order and discipline hold a close reign, 
 Where camped in the valley they anxiously 
 wait. 
 
103 
 
 To learn from the riders the fugitive's fate. 
 
 Each sentinel watches with diligent care, 
 
 Lest he the same fate of his comrades should 
 
 share. 
 While in the cool shades of the verdure crowned 
 
 wood, 
 The soldiers recline in dull listless mood. 
 But in their dark features were pictured full 
 
 well, 
 The thoughts of revenge which their words 
 
 dare not tell. 
 But four youthful soldiers alone might be seen^ 
 Who silently sat with a sorrowful mien 
 Or spoke in low tones of the Pasha's commands^ 
 And comrades who fell by the stern headsman^s 
 
 hands. 
 Young Hamet whose brother that morning was 
 
 slain, 
 A lock from his temple by stealth did obtain. 
 Which he with his comrades did equaHy share. 
 And secretly promised the relic to wear, 
 Until in the blood of the Pasha who shed 
 The blood of their comrades the relics were 
 
 red. 
 
104 
 
 But others are gathered in light, cheerful 
 
 mood, 
 Who little did care but for plunder and food, 
 Recruits from Crimea with bow and with spear, 
 And warlike Turcomans regardless of fear, 
 Moldavian conscripts and light Tartar bands, 
 Adventurers gathered from different lands. 
 And renegade Christians denying the name. 
 Who fought but for plunder, adventure or 
 
 fame, 
 No matter what banner waved over their head, 
 If by some adventurous chief they were led. 
 But each warlike chief with his own chosen 
 
 band. 
 Would boast of the valor of his own command. 
 Or tell some strange tale of his childhood and 
 
 youth, 
 Though often containing more fiction than 
 
 truth. 
 (Though man to his country a traitor may 
 
 prove. 
 The faith of his fathers no change can remove.) 
 Each boasts his religion and treats with disdain, 
 The faith of all others as foolish and vain, 
 
105 
 
 Until the light jesting to anger arose. 
 
 And words would have ended in tumult and 
 
 blows. 
 But Caled, a chief of Wallachian race. 
 Declared, *'to dispute were a flagrant disgrace," 
 And bade the disputants their anger forbear, 
 **For Turk or for Christian, but little I care, 
 (He said) for my honor, religion and trade, 
 Are found in my lance and my keen, ready blade. 
 If cross or if crescent wave over my land. 
 My sword shall be drawn with a soldier's true 
 
 hand, 
 Who risks for his country his fortu^^s and 
 
 blood, 
 Fights for his religion and fights for his God. 
 Let some truthful soldier, some strange legend 
 
 tell 
 Or mystic adventure which has him befell.*' 
 ^'Malkosus, Malkosus,'* two voices now call. 
 The name of Malkosus is echoed by all. 
 
 Malkosus, who long in the service had been. 
 And many a thrilling adventure had seen, 
 
 14 
 
106 
 
 Now leisurely laying his turban aside, 
 
 Thus spoke (for to tell some strange tale was 
 
 his pride^) 
 "Our Pasha, no doubt, is both prudent and 
 
 wise. 
 But when thus to capture a phantom he tries^ 
 Like that mystic ghost on his charger of white 
 Who noiselessly fled from our army last nighty 
 He loses his labor, his trouble and care. 
 In trying to capture a fiend of the air." 
 
 MALKOSUS' TALE. 
 
 *^ Fifteen years ago in the days of my youth. 
 Though strange be the tale yet I vouch for its 
 
 truth. 
 The troops of brave Reisus were camped for 
 
 the night. 
 Beneath yon blue mountains now clearly in 
 
 sight, ' 
 A phantom appeared in a pilgrim^s attire. 
 He ate of our food and was warmed by our fire. 
 He said for famed Mecca his journey he pressed. 
 And points to the crescent he wore on his 
 
 breast. 
 
107 
 
 But hid by his garments a cross we descry, 
 When Reisus declared the next morn he should 
 
 die. 
 That night o^er the mountain arose a dark 
 
 cloud. 
 The lightning blazed wildly, the thunder was 
 
 loud, 
 The winds through the valley arose to a gale, 
 With torrents of rain and huge masses of hail. 
 And demons of night loudly howled in the 
 
 storm, 
 But strangest of all the strange traveler's form 
 Was said to have mounted the lightning charged 
 
 cloud, 
 And while the hoarse thunder was echoing loud 
 He answered its peal with a wild ghostly cry. 
 And soon disappeared in the storm-darkened 
 
 sky. 
 Next morning we searched through the forest 
 
 and plain 
 To find the false pilgrim, but search was ia 
 
 vain. 
 An omen of evil it proved to be then, 
 And future disaster, I fear is again 
 
108 
 
 Foretold by the phantom, which on yesternight. 
 So secretly fled on his charger of white. 
 Our leader was slain on the next field of strife^ 
 His army dispersed, and I fled for my life. 
 
 ^Twas thus the dull hours of the lingering day. 
 Were passed by the impatient soldiers away, 
 ^Till sunk was the sun 'neath the hills of the 
 
 West, 
 Like some weary toiler retiring to rest. 
 The weary pursuers now slowly return 
 Again to the camp, all dejected and worn; 
 Though each had rode far o'er mountain and 
 
 plain, 
 No trace of the fugitive horseman they gain. 
 The sun had now hidden his last gleam of 
 
 light. 
 The guards are on duty again for the night. 
 And silence holds reign till the monarch of 
 
 day. 
 Again drives the shadow of midnight away. 
 When roused from their slumbers, the army 
 
 again 
 
109 
 
 Resumes its long march over mountain and 
 
 plain, 
 Each chieftian and soldier, impatient to share 
 The honors and spoils of the Austrian War. 
 
 8. 
 
 ^Twere needless to tell of the long weary way. 
 
 The cavalcade journeyed for many a day, 
 
 How rivers were forded and mountains were 
 
 crossed, 
 How many a horse and his rider were lost, 
 In fording the streams, or from precipice tall. 
 How some luckless rider was crushed by a fall. 
 But time, in the guise of a foe or a friend. 
 At length brought the wearisome march to an 
 
 end. 
 
 As sunset was painting the clear western skies, 
 And half shadowed landscape, in varying, dies. 
 A castle's tall turrets are clearly descried, 
 Though distant and dim, by the well-practiced 
 
 guide. 
 " 'Tis Lindenwald's castle,** he cheerfully says. 
 
110 
 
 No place on the Danube such beauty displays, 
 St. Agatha's convent, less towering in height, 
 A well-defined object, appears on the right. 
 But daylight soon fades, and dim twilight^s grey 
 
 pall 
 Soon hides the oroud castle, the convent and 
 
 wall, 
 The tents are now pitched, and the last ray of 
 
 light 
 Has faded, and earth wears the dark robe of 
 
 night. 
 The angel of slumber, on light, noiseless wings 
 Again to the weary her anodyne brings. 
 And whispers again to the tired sleeper's ear, 
 Of home and of comfort their sorrows to cheer. 
 O rest, quiet sleepers, the dawning of day. 
 Will chase these illusions of fancy away. 
 And life with its joys and its sorrows once more 
 The scenes which are real again will restore. 
 The prisoner wakes from his dreams, and his 
 
 chains 
 A sorrowful proof of his bondage remains. 
 The soldier awakes, and the war steed^s wild 
 
 tramp. 
 
Ill 
 
 The thunder of battle, the march and the camp 
 Are no fancy pictures begot of the night. 
 And born but to fade at the dawning of light. 
 
 lO. 
 
 The camp is astir at the dawning of day. 
 And scarce had the sun cast its earliest ray 
 Across the wide plains and the valleys below. 
 And on the high towers shed its rich golden 
 
 glow. 
 Then each on the scene cast a welcoming glance, 
 And saw the light sunbeams in gay colors dance. 
 Far over the landscape and wide flowing stream 
 Those sparkling waters reflect each bright 
 
 beam, 
 But chief on the castle's proud turrets they 
 
 gaze. 
 Those windows like fire seemed to sparkle and 
 
 blaze, 
 And e'en the gray walls of the convent appear 
 To smile in the sunlight and join in the cheer. 
 The countess and priest half forgetting their 
 
 cares. 
 Had almost forgotten to offer their prayers; 
 
112 
 
 Till borne on the breeze was the faint distant 
 
 swell, 
 A signal for praise from St Agatha^s bell. 
 How often had each in their happier days, 
 With cheerfulness welcomed the first matin lays. 
 But quickly the prayers of the morning are said 
 And quickly the Moslem toward Mecca has 
 
 prayed. 
 When each toward the castle is looking again, 
 With mingled emotions of pleasure or pain. 
 The princess her pleasure can scarcely restrain. 
 The thought of new scenes of enjoyment again, 
 And thoughts of her father's protection and care 
 Which after long absence again she would share. 
 
 II. 
 
 But now from the castle o'er meadows of green, 
 A troop of fleet horsemen approaching are seen. 
 By sunlight reflected their armor appears, 
 A bright constellation of glittering stars. 
 And black nodding plumes on their turbans of 
 
 blue. 
 Danced like fairy elfs as the cavalcade flew, 
 While on the gay banners is clearly descried, 
 
113 
 
 The rich gilded crescent, the Ottoman's pride. 
 The galloping steeds and the brilliant array. 
 Seemed like some wild pageant to welcome the 
 
 day. 
 The countess who looked on the scene with a 
 
 sigh. 
 Exclaimed as she brushed the sad tear from her 
 
 eye, 
 ^^How like the gay scene on the festival day, 
 When last from the castle I took my glad way. 
 How little I thought, on my weary return, 
 That I as a captive and widow should mourn, 
 'Twere better to die in a far distant land, 
 Than see my loved home in the proud Moslem's 
 
 hand. 
 But nearer approaching, the buglers loud sound. 
 Awakens the camp from its silence profound, 
 And soon from the camp, rising cheerful and 
 
 high. 
 An answering echo is sent in reply. 
 
 12 
 
 But who leads this gay and magnificent band. 
 Who ride from the castle so princely and grand, 
 
 15 
 
114 
 
 Tis Pasha Ben Hassan who early has come, 
 To meet his fair daughter and welcome her 
 
 home. 
 For now over Lindenwald's castle he sees, 
 His banner as prince proudly wave in the breeze. 
 From Mustapha^s army on furlough released, 
 A few quiet days at his castle to feast. 
 And then to the siege of Vienna once more, 
 To join in the dangers and tumults of war. 
 
 13- 
 
 Kind reader I tax not your patience to trace. 
 The scenes of the meeting, its pleasure and 
 
 grace. 
 Or how the proud Tartar now tenderly pressed. 
 His long absent daughter again to his breast. 
 Or how the fair princess with tears of true bliss 
 Returned his embrace with a child^s filial kiss. 
 The love scenes of romance are heartless and 
 
 cold. 
 The greeting of lovers though gentle and bold. 
 Compared with the joy when from dark scenes 
 
 of war. 
 The father revisits his children once more. 
 
115 
 
 The fountains of social enjoyment congealed 
 By war's chilling tempests again are revealed, 
 And flowers of true happiness spring into bloom, 
 With richer effulgence and sweeter perfume. 
 
 14. 
 
 But short is the greeting, the escort again 
 Return with Al Raschid's command in their 
 
 train, 
 Who camp near the walls of the castle that day. 
 And share in the feast and festivities gay. 
 The Countess returns to her home with a sigh, 
 And fain with the priest to the convent would 
 
 hie. 
 But Agnis detained her and kindly declared. 
 That she who her journey and trials had shared 
 Should still as her friend and her tutor remain 
 And dwell as her friend in her castle again. 
 Priest Ludwig returns to the convent once more, 
 Where peace hold her reign as in years gone 
 
 before. 
 Where Aves are sung and where masses are said 
 To welcome the living and honor the dead. 
 Ben Hassan now orders a banquet prepared. 
 
116 
 
 For all who the long, weary journey had shared^ 
 The proud chiefs partake of the feast of the day 
 Each clad in his armor and warlike array 
 As guests of the prince of proud Lindenwald^s 
 
 halls 
 While gaily the soldiers encamped near the 
 
 walls^ 
 Enjoy the repast, and a happier throng 
 Ne'er joined in the pleasure of story and song! 
 But time spent in pleasure how swiftly it flies^ 
 The sun's parting beams from the bright 
 
 v/estern skies 
 Now shed on the castle their last setting ray 
 And twilight^s dark shadows all gloomy and 
 
 grey 
 Have brought to tired nature the hours of 
 
 repose 
 And caused the gay scenes of the banquet to 
 
 close. 
 
 IS 
 The sentineFs tread as he paces the walls, 
 With slow measured step to the soldier recalls 
 The scenes of the camp and the battle once 
 
 more, 
 
117 
 
 And tells that the feast with its pleasures is 
 
 o'er. 
 One day of such freedom from dangers and 
 
 cares 
 Were worth to the soldier a full score of years. 
 
 i6 
 
 The sound of the bugle announces the dawn, 
 And greets the first beams of the bright morn- 
 ing sun, 
 When, roused from their slumbers, the soldiers 
 
 once more 
 Prepare for their march to the wild scenes of 
 
 war. 
 Arranged on the banks of the Danube, appear 
 Al Raschid's light horsemen with echoing 
 
 cheer. 
 While guards of Ben Hassan do gallantly ride 
 In front with their leader as escort and guide. 
 One look at the castle Ben Hassan has cast, 
 That look may perchance be his proudest and 
 
 last. 
 Its strong granite bastions and turrets display 
 His rich silken banner in brillant array, 
 
118 
 
 No monarch more proud of his palace and 
 bowers, 
 
 Than Pasha Ben Hassan, of Lindenwald's tow- 
 ers. 
 
 Now booms from the castle the loud signal 
 gun. 
 
 And off for Vienna the army is gone. 
 
INTRODUCTION TO CANTO VII. 
 
 The wintry blasts are cold and drear. 
 
 The heralds of the closing year. 
 
 Invite again my humble lay, 
 
 To pass the evening hours away. 
 
 The year grows grey and grim and old, 
 
 Its history will soon be told; 
 
 The next great wave on time's rough sea. 
 
 Will bear it to eternity. 
 
 But yet another graphic page, 
 
 It adds to our historic age. 
 
 And many with a smile or sigh. 
 
 Now bid the parting year good-bye. 
 
 How many joys the passing year, 
 
 Has brought life's varied path to cheer; 
 
 How many cheered by brightest hope 
 
 Have drunk from sorrow's bitter cup, 
 
 Thus joy and sorrow, hope and fear. 
 
 Like clouds and sunshine mark each year, 
 
 And like the year, now gray and old. 
 
 Our history will soon be told, 
 
 119 
 
120 
 
 And we partake the common lot, 
 To pass away and be forgot, 
 And by our deeds or pen scarce leave 
 A ripple on time's ceaseless wave. 
 
CANTO VII. 
 
 {Scene before Vienna). 
 
 THE BATTLE. 
 
 The first hues of autumn began to appear, 
 Like heralds proclaming the close of the year, 
 The first yellow leaf ^midst the foliage of green. 
 Which clothes the tall lindens is here and there 
 
 seen. 
 While in the rich valleys the ripe yellow grain 
 Is gathered and stored in the garners again. 
 The thrice happy peasant, now proud of his 
 
 store, 
 Does cheerfully welcome the autumn once more. 
 Such is the charmed scene, when on light joyous 
 
 wings. 
 The genius, of plenty her offering brings. 
 And such are the scenes of enjoyment and ease. 
 Beneath the mild reign of the angel of peace. 
 
 2. 
 
 But leaguered Vienna now sees from her walls 
 The first faded leaf on her pavement that falls, 
 
 16 121 
 
122 
 
 And feels the chill breath of the first autumn 
 
 breeze, 
 Which murmurs and sighs through the war- 
 shattered trees. 
 With shudder and sigh and looks sadly in 
 
 vain, 
 For autumn^s rich stores on her once fertile plain. 
 The tramping of steeds and the soldier's rude 
 
 tread. 
 Her fields and her vineyards a desert have 
 
 made. 
 And scarcely a blade or a leaf now remains. 
 And all ner rich valleys are now barren plains, 
 No face wears a smile, but all meager and gaunt, 
 Each bears the sad image of famine and want. 
 Such is the dread waste when the demon of 
 
 war. 
 Has spread his black wing on the pestilent air. 
 And sad is the city, her crumbling towers, 
 Bear many deep marks of the fierce Moslem 
 
 powers. 
 A hundred huge cannon now batter her wall 
 And many strong bastions oft crumble and fall. 
 Her strongest defences in ruin laid low, 
 
123 
 
 While like a huge lion the confident foe. 
 
 Now sports with the victim secure in his power, 
 
 He holds for a moment but waits to devour. 
 
 Now on the sad city the last beams of day. 
 Have faded, and twilight her curtain of grey 
 (A pitying angel) has silently spread. 
 And drops dewy tears o'er the wounded and 
 
 dead. 
 But night to the soldier brings little of rest, 
 So close is the siege of Vienna now pressed. 
 The cannons' loud echo the night^s silence oft 
 
 breaks. 
 While each crumbling battlement totters and 
 
 shakes. 
 And wide o^er the fields in their warlike array 
 The Sultanas grand armies their signals display, 
 By camp fires which glow in the darkness of 
 
 even, 
 Like twinkling stars in the far distant heaven. 
 No pageant of joy is the brilliant display. 
 No holiday cheer at the close of the day. 
 Each ominous flash and each thunderlike boom. 
 
124 
 
 Bears to sad Vienna a message of doom. 
 The Vizier, at ease on his divan reclined. 
 While visions of conquest still dance through 
 
 his mind, 
 Awaits the return of Ben Hassan once more, 
 Who brings at each evening reports from the 
 
 war. 
 Soon from his wild fancy the Vizier awakes. 
 The tramp of a steed on his reverie breaks; 
 The tall Tartar prince from his saddle now 
 
 springs, 
 Some tidings unusual most surely he brings. 
 Now, hastily summoned, the Pashas appear 
 Before the Grand Vizier the tidings to hear. 
 The Khan of Aleppo, long famous in war, 
 Whose wisdom and valor were known from afar; 
 Crimea's chief Pasha, whose counsel and fame. 
 Had won from the Vizier a much honored 
 
 name; 
 A cliief from Silistra, renowned for his might. 
 Both wise in the council and valiant in fight. 
 And chieftains renowned from full many a land. 
 In council now meet at Mustapha's command 
 Now called by the Vizier, Ben Hassan arose, 
 
125 
 
 And thus to the chiefs did his tidings disclose: 
 *^The troops of the foe who in numerous bands. 
 Of late have assembled from various lands, 
 Till grown to an army they hastily move 
 Across the low plains to the highlands above. 
 And now on the summit of Kahlenburg stands. 
 In close line of battle, the Christian commands. 
 Duke Charles of Lorraine leads the Austrian host 
 And Louis of Baden has gained a strong post, 
 And warlike Count Leslie has gained the same 
 
 height. 
 Count Albrecht, of Lindenwald, forms on his 
 
 right. 
 And King Sobieski, of Poland, is there, 
 With many strong legions the battle to share. 
 But why should I name the whole warlike array? 
 Their strength will be seen at the dawning of 
 
 day, 
 And ere in the west sinks another day's sun, 
 The siege w^ill be raised or Vienna is won/^ 
 Ben Hassan now ceased and Mustapha replied, 
 "The wild scenes of war are the Musselman's 
 
 pride. 
 The siege of Vienna now hastes to its close. 
 
136 
 
 One battle to win and our gathering foes 
 
 Will yield to our power and o'er city and 
 
 plain, 
 The crescent shall wave and the Moslem shall 
 
 reign. 
 For Austria^s armies, but little I care, 
 But if Sobieski, of Poland, is there. 
 Our brave janizaries to-morrow will feel 
 The strength of a foeman well worthy their 
 
 steel, 
 Make ready the troops at the dawning of day. 
 And place the grand army in battle array; 
 Our troops are impatient and now would 
 
 delight 
 To chase the proud Austrian troops from yon 
 
 height/' 
 The council now closes; the vizier once more 
 Reclines on his pillow and dreams as before, 
 Of honor and power when on Leopold^s throne, 
 As king he should reign and all Europe should 
 
 own. 
 The force of his armies and his high sounding 
 
 name 
 Should rival the sultan's in glory and fame. 
 
127 
 
 But soon the bright scenes which his fancies 
 
 portray, 
 Have faded like mists in his slumbers away. 
 
 5. 
 As when the dark stormclouds at midnight 
 
 arise 
 And hide from our vision the star-spangled 
 
 skies, 
 An ominous silence broods over the plain. 
 Presaging the tempest which gathers amain, 
 And on the low night breeze the murmuring 
 
 sigh, 
 Which moves the light leaflets while hurrying 
 
 by. 
 
 Makes silence more deep and the glimmering 
 
 light 
 Of stars half concealed makes still darker the 
 
 night. 
 So, cautious and still, by the last fitful glare 
 Of low waning camp fires, the Pashas prepare 
 To muster their legions in battle array. 
 And move on the foe at the dawning of day. 
 The light, noiseless tread, and the low muffled 
 
 sound 
 
128 
 
 Scarce break with their murmur, the silence 
 
 profound, 
 As long lines of troops by the darkness con- 
 cealed, 
 Are hastily formed on the well-chosen field, 
 And low rumbling sounds might the listener 
 
 trace, 
 As parks of artillery move to their place. 
 And dark Janizaries their movements conceal, 
 And cautiously form, clad in armor of steel. 
 And long lines of horsemen in readiness stand, 
 To haste to the field at their leader^s command. 
 But scarce was the army arranged for the fight 
 When broke in the East the first dawning of 
 
 light. 
 When each ready army beholds with surprise, 
 Its foe in the front like a forest arise. 
 The Turk and Christian stand ready once more, 
 To test in the conflict their valor in war. 
 
 In ominous silence each army now stands, 
 And anxiously waits for its leader's commands* 
 One glance at the city, the river and plain. 
 
129 
 
 One thought of the homes they might ne'er see 
 
 again. 
 Each look on the foe with almost bated breath, 
 Now ready to hurl the first missile of death. 
 ^Tis only a moment, a puff and a boom 
 Sends forth from the hill the first message of doom, 
 An answering peal from the valley below, 
 Sends back a response from the ranks of the foe. 
 Then follows a crash and a deafening sound, 
 Which wakes with its echoes all nature around. 
 Now louder and deeper the thunders arise, 
 Anddarkcloudsofdustand of smoke veiltheskies; 
 The field is soon veiled in the darkness of night, 
 Andfierce chargingsquadrons are lost to thesight. 
 The rushing of steeds and the leader's command 
 As onward they urge their impetuous bands. 
 And shouts of defiance and answering cries, 
 Amidst the wild scenes of the conflict arise. 
 No artist can paint and no language can tell. 
 As well might we portray the tumults of hell. 
 
 7 
 
 But why should I picture the scene of the fight? 
 The sun may well hide from the conflict its light. 
 
130 
 
 And you, gentle reader, I gladly would spare, 
 A tale of the woes and the terrors of war. 
 As soon let my muse call her barbarous lays, 
 The scenes of the earthquake or famine to 
 
 praise. 
 Or laud the dread storm king who rides on the 
 
 cloudj 
 Or chant to the whirlwind so fearful and loud. 
 As praise the fierce demon whose murderous 
 
 breath, 
 Blights city and land with destruction and 
 
 death. 
 Oh rather let pity on errands of love. 
 An angel of mercy, my sympathies move. 
 As softly she moves o'er the war-stricken plain, 
 And gives kind relief to the sufferers* pain. 
 
 8. 
 
 But time swiftly flies and the sun, rising high. 
 His zenith has reached in the smoke-darkened 
 
 sky. 
 But still the wild tumult and thunders of war. 
 Re-echo o'er city and country afar, 
 But like the fierce storm cloud which blackens 
 
 the sky 
 
131 
 
 And scatters destruction while hurrying by, 
 At length spends its fury and loses its sway, 
 So passes the rage of the conflict away. 
 The sun has descended again in the west 
 And brings the glad hour of retirement and rest, 
 The tumult of battle dies faintly away. 
 And twilight again with her curtain of grey, 
 Has shrouded more darkly the war stricken 
 
 field 
 Till night's darker curtain the plain has con- 
 cealed, 
 And, save the low murmur of sorrow and pain. 
 Lone silence again has asserted her reign. 
 
INTRODUCTION TO CANTO VIIL 
 
 The winter winds still cold and drear, 
 Bring scarce a trace of nature's cheer, 
 I hear the winds with boding moan, 
 Howl o^er the prairies bleak and lone, 
 And night around my cottage door, 
 Her sable curtain draws once more. 
 The moon conceals her crescent sheen 
 Behind dark clouds which intervene 
 Then with a dim and feeble light 
 Retiring, bids the land good night. 
 I draw my curtain close once more. 
 Securely bar my outer door. 
 And then at dreamy ease reclined. 
 With book or pen my truant mind 
 Steals from the bounds of land and home. 
 O'er distant lands and scenes to roam. 
 Fancy, unchained by land or clime. 
 Regardless of the flight of time, 
 Flies o'er the sea on pinions light, 
 Sits careless on some mountain height, 
 
 132 
 
133 
 
 And views o'er lands and seas afar, 
 Historic scenes of peace or war. 
 While with my pen I rudely trace 
 The men and scenes of former days, 
 
CANTO VIII. 
 
 SCENE AT LINDENWALD. 
 
 Three days since the battle and Lindenwald's 
 
 towers 
 Are gilded by rays of the sun's parting hours, 
 The guards who are silently pacing the wall. 
 Are tracing their shadows like ghosts grim and 
 
 tall, 
 Or watching the gleam on the waters below, 
 Like wild glancing flames in the sun's ruddy 
 
 glow; 
 And looking full oft to the wide-spreading 
 
 plain. 
 The sight of some herald returning to gain, 
 Who still to the castle his coming delays. 
 Though anxiously waited five wearisome days. 
 The breeze like the sun is now sinking to rest; 
 No ripple is seen on the Danube's calm breast. 
 No leaflet is moved on the linden trees tall. 
 The banners droop idly on turret and wall. 
 The soldiers released from their duties are seen 
 
 134 
 
135 
 
 Reclining in groups at their ease on the green. 
 While tales Oriental and wondrous are told. 
 Of beautiful Houries or mountains of gold. 
 The castle's commander, though little at ease. 
 Walks with an old guard at slow pace, midst the 
 
 trees. 
 Awhile he is silent, then thoughtfully says: 
 *^Why think you AlHadi our herald delays? 
 Five days have now passed and no tidings we 
 
 hear; 
 Some news from the army disastrous I fear. 
 The task were not easy or light to perform, 
 To capture and enter Vienna by storm. 
 The city may fall but we little should gain. 
 If in the encounter Ben Hassan were slain". 
 Al Hadi, the guard, was decrepit and old, 
 Though once as a soldier was active and bold. 
 But acting as guard or as sentinel still. 
 Was ready each duty and trust to fulfil. 
 But always some omen or sign would declare 
 Foreboded success or disaster in war. 
 He points to the badges of honor he wore, 
 "My years as a soldier," he says, **are two score. 
 IVe fought for the Sultan in countries afar. 
 
136 
 
 And proofs of my valor are many a scar. 
 But age has now caused me to quietly yield. 
 My once honored place in the camp and the 
 
 field; 
 Though now as a soldier and stranger to fear^ 
 The long delayed tidings I tremble to hear. 
 For omens of evil and nothing of good. 
 I trace in the heavens, the forest and flood. 
 If near to the river, its ominous roar 
 Has presaged defeat and disaster in war. 
 The form of the prophet portrayed in the sky. 
 Betokens success to our army is nigh. 
 Though oft to the heavens I look in the night 
 No form of the prophet has greeted my sight." 
 
 The officer smiled, but ere answer he made. 
 The guards on the walls have a signal displayed, 
 Two horsemen, though distant, they clearly can 
 
 trace. 
 Approaching the castle with wearisome pace. 
 The signal is seen and with hurrying feet, 
 All anxiously hasten the heralds to meet, 
 And from the lone convent two friars are seen, 
 
137 
 
 In long sable robes and with reverent mien, 
 As standing in silence they eagerly wait 
 To welcome Priest Ludwig again at the gate. 
 Not long did they wait, for the horsemen ap- 
 pear 
 Still urging their steeds and approaching more 
 
 near. 
 And soon on its hinges the huge iron gate 
 Swings creaking, and enter the heralds of fate. 
 The prelate who oft as a herald before 
 Had borne to the princess reports from the war. 
 With pass from the Vizier his person to shield, 
 Secured his access to the castle and field. 
 His garb as a priest to the Christians was 
 
 known; 
 Thus fear and respect from both armies was 
 
 shown. 
 His comrade, Obidah, whose duty and pride 
 Was only to act as a herald or guide, 
 Now to the commandant dispatches did bear. 
 Announcing defeat and disaster in war. 
 Their dust covered garments, all bloodstained, 
 
 declared 
 That each in the scene of the battle had shared. 
 
 18 
 
138 
 
 The priest in his hand still a crucifiix bore. 
 The hilt of a sword, the last relic of war, 
 Was borne by Obidah^ who silently rode 
 Beside his companion in sorrowful mood. 
 Now each for his tale was so eagerly pressed 
 That scarce was there time for refreshment and 
 
 rest. 
 Obidah now seeks the commandant alone, 
 To whom his report is in secret made known, 
 While Ludwig, the countess and Agnis repair 
 In haste to the convent for vespers and prayer^ 
 Where all with emotions of hope and of fear^ 
 Are waitings, the news from the armies to hear. 
 But slightly refreshed while his listeners wait. 
 The prelate does thus his strange story relate. 
 
 ludwig's tale. 
 
 ^*When late from the castle I took my lone way, 
 The first rays of sunshine enlivened the day, 
 I fancied the landscape with varied hues, 
 A scene for the artist or theme for the muse. 
 A score of gay colors seemed blended in one. 
 As Autumn^s rich hues were portrayed by the 
 sun. 
 
139 
 
 I scarcely could think that war^s ravaging hand, 
 Was making a waste of the beautiful land. 
 Thus time passed unheeded until the bright sun, 
 Rose high in the heavens and pointed to noon. 
 When reaching a streamlet where often before. 
 At noon I had rested, I halted once more, 
 And drank from its waters so sparkling and 
 
 clear. 
 But little suspecting that danger was near. 
 But scarce had remounted when loud through 
 
 the glen, 
 The tramping of steeds and the voices of men. 
 Attracted my ear, and four horsemen are seen 
 Approaching with speed and threatening mien; 
 Their sabres are drawn and the foremost now 
 
 cries: 
 *A spy of the Turks in a priestly disguise.' 
 I reined up my steed and uncovered my head, 
 *A priest from St. Agatha's convent,' I said. 
 " Pray do not detain me, I haste to the war 
 To visit the sick, for the wounded to care. 
 * Dismount!' cried the leader,and seizing my rein, 
 ''Your passport perhaps will your mission 
 
 explain. 
 
140 
 
 If that prove you truthful you quickly are free. 
 If not you shall hang from yon half withered 
 
 tree/ 
 Now slowly dismounting, I secretly tried 
 My dread Moslem pass in my garments to hide^ 
 My ruse was in vain, for my captor's quick eye. 
 Did quickly my movements and passport espy* 
 My pass was examined but not understood, 
 But stamped with the crescent it boded no 
 
 good. 
 My captors consulted in whisperings low 
 And soon I was told that to camp I must go. 
 With hands closely pinioned I scarce could 
 
 maintain 
 My seat in the saddle or manage the rein, 
 But soon in a valley extended and wide, 
 The camp of an army is clearly descried. 
 An Austrian squadron now marching to join 
 The grand allied army already in line. 
 A council was summoned to hastily try 
 The captive accused as a Mussulman spy, 
 My crescent marked pass to the council was 
 
 given, 
 Which well-nigh had proved a quick passport to 
 
 heaven. 
 
141 
 
 I soon was condemned but the sentence delayed 
 Until the commander the passport had read, 
 Who learned as a slave in the enemies* land 
 The language and writing to well understand. 
 I saw the grim soldiers the gallows prepare, 
 Where soon I the fate of a traitor must share. 
 While guards of armed soldiers impatiently wait 
 Their leader^s approval to seal my sad fate.^' 
 **I often in scenes of great danger had been^ 
 With courage undaunted, but never till then 
 Was called by my fortune to suddenly face 
 The death of a traitor with shame and disgrace. 
 I silently offered full many a prayer, 
 That heaven in mercy my life would still spare, 
 For prelates and monarchs, the humble and great, 
 Instinctively shrink from the mandate of fate. 
 But when to the gallows by force I was led, 
 All hope had departed, my last prayer was said; 
 I gave a sad look to the earth and the sky, 
 And bade to all nature a final good-bye/* 
 
 ^^But now on a sudden there broke on my ear, 
 The tramp of a steed and a welcoming cheer: 
 
142 
 
 "Count Albrecht, our leader," the soldiers now 
 
 cried; 
 And soon the brave chieftain appeared at my 
 
 side. 
 My pass by the Vizier was written and sealed. 
 Which soon to Count Albrecht the secret re- 
 vealed. ^ 
 St. Agatha's convent, his castle and land 
 Were held and controlled by Ben Hassan's com- 
 mand. 
 No pass but the Vizier's the gate could unbar. 
 And bear to the countess reports from the war. 
 My bands by his orders were quickly removed. 
 The council's too hasty decision reproved, 
 Yet bade them still watch with a vigilant eye, 
 And capture the lurking Mahommedan spy. 
 Who oft had been seen near the army that day. 
 Disguised in the robes of a prelate's array, 
 But borne on a charger as fleet as the wind. 
 He quickly had left his pursuers behind. 
 ^^I blessed my good fortune, Count Albrecht, and 
 
 Heaven, 
 Who thus in my need had deliverance given, 
 And soon in his tent we recounted once more 
 
143 
 
 The scenes we had witnessed since meeting 
 
 before. 
 He told his escape from Al Raschid's command, 
 And how he had hastily gathered a band, 
 And hoped by the eve of the morrow to join 
 The troops of Count Leslie already in line. 
 
 4 
 The sun had now sunk ^neath the dark western 
 
 hill. 
 And nature seemed gloomy but quiet and still. 
 While lost in the thoughts of the scenes of the 
 
 day, 
 I to a near thicket, deep musing, did stray, 
 I stood by the side of a rippling rill. 
 Which flowed in its course from a wood mantled 
 
 hill. 
 And watched the lone shadows wane slowly and 
 
 fade, 
 As twilight grew deeper o'er forest and glade, 
 When sudden a quick moving figure did glide. 
 In haste from the thicket and stood at my side. 
 I looked, and how c:reat was my fear and surprise 
 The form of Ben Hassan in priestly disguise, 
 
144 
 
 So closely enveloped his face was unknown, 
 Until in a whisper his name he had shown. 
 *My business^ he says 'requires silence and haste/ 
 Then drew a sealed casket in haste from his 
 
 breast, 
 '^With this sacred treasure which near to my 
 
 heart, 
 Has lain for long years, I reluctantly part, 
 A mystic foreboding not kindred to fear, 
 Forewarns me, the end of lifers journey is near. 
 This treasure I yield to your keeping and care. 
 To faithfully guard and to Agnis to bear. 
 He bade me farewell with a half suppressed 
 
 sigh 
 And quick from mv sight like a phantom did 
 
 fly. 
 How strange are the scenes I have witnessed 
 
 to-day, 
 I thought as at night by the camp fire I lay, 
 And rested till morning when forward again 
 I hastily moved with the hurrying train 
 
 Till on the next evening on Kahlenburgh's 
 height 
 
145 
 
 We joined the grand army and camped for the 
 night. 
 
 Aroused from my slumbers at dawning of day, 
 I saw the proud armies in battle array. 
 In long, massive ranks in the valley below 
 Or moving in columns the gathering foe, 
 Or richly-clad pashas whose scimitars bright, 
 Shone like burnished gold in the clear morning 
 
 light. 
 And squadrons of horsemen who gracefully 
 
 moved, 
 And wheeled in their ranks and their discipline 
 
 proved, 
 While gay, silken banners unfurled to the 
 
 breeze. 
 Waved over each column with beauty and ease. 
 The troops of Ben Hassan I clearly could trace, 
 As with his skilled horsemen he moved to his 
 
 place. 
 More distant, the tents of the army are seen 
 Like flocks in repose in the valley of green 
 And far in the distance, portrayed by the sun, 
 
 39 
 
146 
 
 The spires of Vienna delightfully shone. 
 Such was the grand scene in the valley below, 
 And such the array of the proud Moslem foe; 
 While high o'er the valley on Kahlenburgh's 
 
 height. 
 The Austrian armies prepared for the fight; 
 Arrayed in bright armour and banners so gay^ 
 Which proudly reflected the sun's early ray. 
 As brilliant and lovely the picture did seem, 
 As some fairy vision or mythical dream, 
 But once in a life time such views we obtain, 
 Such visions are never repeated again. 
 
 5- 
 But short was my view, for to duty assigned, 
 A wide spacious tent for the wounded I find, 
 Where surgeons and priests in dread silence 
 
 await, 
 The first peal of war as the message of fate. 
 Not long did we wait for war^s echoing sound. 
 Soon shook the wide valley and forest around, 
 Twere sin to recount the dread scenes of the 
 
 day. 
 For war's cheating pageant had now passed 
 
 away. 
 
147 
 
 The wild imprecation, the groan and the prayer 
 In mingled confusion arose on the air; 
 And ere the last rites o'er the wounded were said, 
 Full many a victim had gone to the dead; 
 Till night like an angel of mercy once more. 
 Her curtain had drawn and the battle is o^er, 
 And save the low murmur of sorrow and pain, 
 Grim midnight again has asserted her reign. 
 But little of rest in the camp or the field, 
 Did night with its quiet and solitude yield, 
 For, hid by the darkness and favoring night. 
 The Sultan's grand army has taken its flight. 
 No visions of conquest and glory now cheer. 
 The haughty Grand Vizier as, goaded by fear. 
 He hastily flies while his army once more, 
 As fugitives fly to their own native shore. 
 
 6 
 
 Now threatening clouds make still darker the 
 
 night. 
 And hide the last glimmering star from the sight. 
 And muttering thunders low rumble afar. 
 Seemed faintly to mimic the thunders of war. 
 Till nearer is echoed tjie thunder's hoarse sound. 
 
148 
 
 And deeper the darkness which gathers around. 
 Oft broke by the glare of the lightning^s red rays. 
 Till valley and hill seemed to redden and blaze. 
 Though wild through the day raged the fiend of 
 
 the fight. 
 More fearful the demon who revelled at night; 
 But like the wild tumult and thunder of war, 
 The storm with its fury and rage was soon o'er 
 And sunlight again with its loveliest glow. 
 Has smiled on the hill and the valley below. 
 And glittering raindrops reflecting the sun, 
 Like gems from each leaflet in beauty now shone* 
 But little I heeded the sun's brilliant glow. 
 As sadly I looked on the valley below. 
 The glittering pageant no longer is there, 
 But only the wreck and the ruin of war. 
 The banners, so gay on the morning before. 
 O'er proud rushing squadrons are waving no 
 
 more, 
 But riderless steeds wildly roam o^er the plain, 
 Or harnessed beside their dead mates still remain. 
 Attached to the cannon whose shot broken 
 
 wheels, 
 The fatal artillery's havoc reveals. 
 
149 
 
 And many sad forms, moving silent and slow, 
 Seek kindred and friends in the valley of v/oe, 
 And darkly robed priests with the cross and ihe 
 
 stole, 
 Who said the last prayer for full many a soul, 
 And soldiers by scores who with mattock and 
 
 spade. 
 Wrought many a trench where the slaughtered 
 
 were laid. 
 Such were the sad scenes which from Kahlen- 
 
 burgh's brow, 
 I saw as I looked on the valley below. 
 
 7 
 Then sadly and slowly I took my lone way. 
 Amidst the sad scenes of disaster to stray. 
 And traced 'midst the scenes of disaster and 
 
 blood, 
 The place where the troops of Ben Hassan had 
 
 stood. 
 Where scores of the wounded and heaps of the 
 
 slain, 
 Gave proof that the conflict disastrous had been^ 
 Amidst the slain Pashas by chance I espied. 
 
150 
 
 The form of Al Raschid, our escort and guide. 
 Not slain by the foe but in long deferred hate, 
 And deep sworn revenge for a brother's sad fate, 
 Beside of his victim young Hamit lay dead, 
 One hand was still grasping the half severed 
 
 head, 
 A lock of his brother^s dark hair deeply stained, 
 Still grasped in the other most firmly remained. 
 For scarce had he given the deep vengeful blow. 
 Ere he too was slain by the hand of the foe. 
 
 8 
 
 Priest Ludwig now paused with a sigh half sup- 
 pressed. 
 Then drew with a faltering hand from his breast 
 The casket which often the princess before, 
 Had seen as her father the loved relic wore, 
 *' O, saw you my father?^^ she hastily cried. 
 ^*And saw you count Albrecht?^' the countess 
 
 now sighed. 
 ^^Count Albrecht is safe and to-morrow will 
 
 come 
 To claim with his army, his castle and home. 
 Then turning to Agnis, ^* I needs must relate. 
 
151 
 
 Though sad be the story, your father^s sad fate. 
 Beneath a broad linden Ben Hassan was found, 
 Whose boughs by the tempest lay scattered 
 
 around 
 Its trunk and torn branches bore many a scar. 
 As proof of the fierce, iron tempest of war, 
 Within its broad shadow the chieftain was laid, 
 A faithful attendant supported his head, 
 The faithful Obidah, our escort and guide. 
 Who true to the last had remained at his side. 
 Ben Hassan was grasping the hilt of his blade. 
 Though life was fast ebbing his valor displayed* 
 He fancied the battle was raging once more 
 And urged on his troops ^midst the thunders of 
 
 war. 
 Till faint with the effort exhausted would lay. 
 Then rousing again, his wild fancy would stray 
 Afar to Samarcand, where proudly again 
 Within a grand palace as prince he would 
 
 reign, 
 In scenes Oriental, in gardens and bowers, 
 Would sit with his bride midst the fountains 
 
 and flowers. 
 Or talk of his castle, his home and his child, 
 
152 
 
 Or tell his adventures so fearless and wild 
 By wild fancy guided until his last breath 
 Had ceased, and he sunk in the silence of death. 
 
 "A tramping of horses now falls on my ear, 
 Two Austrian horsemen draw suddenly near. 
 Count Albrecht and aid are now riding again. 
 And sadly reviewing the war stricken plain. 
 He looked on Ben Hassan^ and said with a sigh: 
 '^Brave Tartar, my foe and my rival, good-bye. 
 Though sad be your fate, it in peace will restore, 
 Its own rightful heir to his castle once more. 
 Beneath this broad linden by crescent marked 
 
 stone. 
 The grave of Ben Hassan shall ever be known.*' 
 Then turned to Obidah, ^4n haste you must go. 
 The fate of your chief at the castle to show, 
 And tell that the Sultan's grand army now flee; 
 The Christians have won and Vienna is free. 
 And you, father Ludwig, his journey may share. 
 The news to the countess and convent to bear; 
 And tell them the flag of my country once more 
 Shall wave over Lindenwald^s halls as of yore.'* 
 
153 
 
 We mounted our steeds and scarce slackened 
 
 our rein. 
 Until the strong walls of the castle we gain. 
 
 lO. 
 
 His tale was now ended. The princess received 
 The now proffered casket, though sadly she 
 
 grieved 
 The fate of her father. Though heir to a 
 
 throne. 
 Now fallen in battle while helpless and lone, 
 Though once a proud princess, his daughter 
 
 and heir. 
 The lone helpless lot of an orphan must share. 
 But night her dark curtain now spreads o'er the 
 
 land; 
 The soft evening zephyrs breathed gently and 
 
 bland. 
 And sleep^s magic charm had soon stolen away 
 The sorrows and joys and the scenes of the day. 
 
 II. 
 
 The tale of Obidah already is told, 
 
 A panic has seized on the garrison bold. 
 
 20 
 
154 
 
 No sentiners tread is now heard on the walls. 
 No soldier is guarding the grand palace halls. 
 But hurry and bustle, and tramping till late, 
 When creaks on its hinges, the huge oaken gate. 
 And hid by the darkening shadows of night, 
 The guards and the soldiers have taken their 
 
 flight. 
 The breeze sinks to rest and the night is serene, 
 And darkness and silence brood over the scene. 
 
INTRODUCTION TO CANTO IX. 
 
 The evening hours come round again, 
 
 I light my lamp, resume my pen. 
 
 And seek some subject grave or gay 
 
 To wake again my simple lay. 
 
 Some cheerful theme, I fain would choose, 
 
 To be the subject of my muse. 
 
 The seasons are a beaten road. 
 
 By other feet too often trod. 
 
 The scenes of peace, of war or love 
 
 A worn out theme too often prove, 
 
 Or should I seek the forest. lone. 
 
 Or desert wilds, untrod, unknown. 
 
 The muses' flight in days of yore. 
 
 Has traced the wildest scenes before. 
 
 Or should I scale the mountain high, 
 
 The Hypograph has reached the sky. 
 
 Or should I seek the lone retreat, 
 
 Where lovelorn swains by moonlight meet, 
 
 Some bard has sought the sylvan grove 
 
 And listened to the whispered love; 
 
 No place so lone, so low, so high. 
 
 As to escape the minstrel's eye, 
 
 155 
 
156 
 
 My muse full long might seek in vain 
 
 Some unrecorded theme to gain. 
 
 Kind reader, with your leave I fain. 
 
 Will raise the curtain once again 
 
 On fancy^s stage as oft before, 
 
 And call my actors forth once more. 
 
 The priest in sable robes arrayed. 
 
 The proud plumed knight; the timid maid 
 
 The festal scene, the forest chase. 
 
 The courtly dame with matron grace, 
 
 And each employ its skill and art. 
 
 In acting some dramatic part. 
 
CANTO NINTH. 
 
 SCENE AT LINDENWALD. 
 
 The morning dawned brightly, the clear autumn 
 
 sun 
 With rich, golden splendor his journey begun. 
 The varied hues of the autumn are seen 
 Displayed in the groves ^midst the foliage of 
 
 green, 
 And nature begins like the aged to wear 
 Its visage sedate, and its thin faded hair. 
 How truly it pictures the scenes of the day. 
 Half somber and sad, yet half cheerful and gay 
 The matin bell rings from St. Agatha's tower. 
 And matins sublime greet the bright morning 
 
 hour, 
 But where was the bugle which welcomed the 
 
 morn. 
 Whose echoes so oft on the breezes were borne, 
 And morning salute which at sunrise arose? 
 No signal to waken the castle's repose, 
 No sentineFs form is now seen on the walls, 
 No guard holds the watch at the palace and 
 
 halls, 
 
 157 
 
158 
 
 No crescent-marked banner unfolds to the sun. 
 The gate stands ajar and the soldiers are 
 
 gone. 
 The monks of St. Agatha's covent appear, 
 In long sable robes, while with caution and fear, 
 They watch, lest some lingering Moslem con- 
 cealed 
 Might lurk in the castle or watch in the field, 
 While some, more courageous, the battlements 
 
 gain 
 And cautiously look to the forest and plain. 
 But morning soon passed and the sun, rising 
 
 high, 
 His zenith has passed in his course through the 
 
 sky. 
 When far in the distance distinctly is seen, 
 A troop of armed horsemen. The glittering 
 
 sheen 
 Their armor reflected most brlliantly shone 
 And sparkled like gold in the rays of the sun, 
 *^The troops of Count Albrecht,'* Priest Ludwig 
 
 now cries. 
 And mounts his fleet steed and to welcome 
 
 them flies. 
 
159 
 
 And soon through the wide open gateway they 
 
 pour. 
 Count Albrecht is lord of his castle once more. 
 
 Though life has its shadows more cheerful and 
 
 bright; 
 The sunshine of happiness yields its pure light, 
 And brighter does nature her beauties duties 
 
 display, 
 When the dreaded storm-cloud is passing away, 
 So kindred emotions of joy are more sweet, 
 When long parted kirfdred and lovers do meet. 
 These kindred emotions so pure and sublime. 
 Are oases which rise on the desert of time. 
 But life seldom flows in the same even stream, 
 And pleasure oft wakes from its happiest dream. 
 And some sable cloud often darkens the ray, 
 Of sunshine which smiles at the opening day. 
 Thus, *midst the rejoicing at Lindenwald's halls, 
 A shadow of gloom o'er the bright picture falls. 
 A herald arrives with a message of pain, 
 ^^Duke Heinrich (the brother of Ludwig) is 
 
 slain," 
 
160 
 
 And Agnis still mourns for a father now dead. 
 Who on the same field with his foeman had bled. 
 And Ludwig laments for a brother's sad fate, 
 Though heir to his title and princely estate. 
 
 3 
 
 But time will the deepest of sorrow allay, 
 
 And soon a small group on a bright autumn 
 
 day, 
 Priest Ludwig, the Countess and Albrecht are 
 
 seen. 
 All silently seated with curious mien. 
 While Agnis appears with the casket,whose seal. 
 Which broken might some mystic secret reveal. 
 The package was bound with a strong silken 
 
 band, 
 Which soon was removed with a trembling hand. 
 A letter to Ludwig well written and sealed. 
 Another to Agnes the wrapper revealed. 
 The casket contained, (which was opened and 
 
 shown). 
 The diamonds, the jewels and seal of the crown, 
 Which once as a prince of Samarcand he wore. 
 Ere shorn of his power by the fortunes of war, 
 
161 
 
 Priest Ludwig now opened his letter with care, 
 Disclosing a ringlet of rich golden hair, 
 A ring and a chain, which did cleari}^ reveal 
 His own bridal gifts. Yet he strove to conceal, 
 The sudden emotions that woke in his breast, 
 And silently mused with a sigh half surpressed: 
 **By some mystic fortune this ring and this 
 
 chain 
 Are strangely restored to their donor again." 
 The letter then opened he silently read: 
 ^^Receive your lost jewels, poor Angle is dead. 
 And true to her wishes again I restore, 
 The ring and the chain to its donor once more. 
 And sadly commit to your favor and care. 
 Our daughter, young Agnis, our sole living 
 
 heir. 
 By this last request is the reason explained, 
 Why you as her tutor and guide were retained. 
 Some mystic foreboding my fate has revealed, 
 Ben Hassan must die on the next battle field. 
 At poor Angle's death-bed I solemnly swore. 
 Our daughter again to her land to restore; 
 And long have I fought, but have struggled in 
 
 vain, 
 
162 
 
 A castle and home in her country to gain, 
 
 But when you have witnessed my lifers tragic 
 
 end, 
 Then pardon, Ben Hassan, your rival and friend." 
 
 4. 
 
 Priest Ludwig with calmness had learned to 
 
 control 
 The keenest emotions which rise in the soul. 
 Thus calmly he spoke: ^^I at last am released 
 From years of suspense, and my vows as a priest, 
 My vows as a prelate were but to remain, 
 Till I of lost Angle some tidings should gain/^ 
 Then turned to the Countess he cheerfully said, 
 As quickly before her the jewels he laid; 
 ^To her who has borne as a captive and slave, 
 With me her hard fortune so fearless and brave. 
 To her who has shared in my sorrow and pain, 
 I cheerfully offer these pledges again. '^ 
 Then turning to Agnis, '*My pupil and ward, 
 Duke Ludwig will still be your counsel and 
 
 guard. 
 My care and protection you freely shall share. 
 And dwell at my castle as daughter and heir." 
 
163 
 
 Count Albrecht^ who silently witnessed the 
 
 scene. 
 Now rose to his feet with a light cheerful mien, 
 ^^Duke Ludwig" he says ^'nownolonger a priest 
 Must yield to my claim one concession at least. 
 My mother now loses her title and name 
 Your new foster daughter as Countess I claim. 
 But for her kind aid and assistance so brave, 
 I still had remained as a captive and slave. 
 
 The autumn has passed and the bleak winter's 
 
 reign. 
 Has ended and spring smiles in beauty again, 
 The groves and the meadows in beauty are seen. 
 Adorned with gay flowers and in vesture of 
 
 green. 
 And sweetly is echoed from forest and grove 
 The gaily fledged songbirds'wild accents of love, 
 The Danube released from its wintry chain. 
 Now peacefully flows in its beauty again 
 And Lindenwald's castle is brilliant and gay. 
 Its turrets and walls their rich banners display. 
 The annual festival, honored of yore, 
 
164 
 
 Has gaily returned to the castle once more. 
 And high mettled steeds in gay trappings 
 
 appear, 
 To share with their riders the festal day cheer. 
 Priest Ludwig his robes had long since- laid 
 
 aside, 
 And now as a Duke by the Countess did ride, 
 While next in procession and close in the rear. 
 Well mounted, Count Albrechtand Agnis appear. 
 While knights and fair ladies from palace and 
 
 ourt. 
 All cheerfully join in the wild forest sport. 
 St. Agatha's abbott, well mounted, is there, 
 In new priestly robes, in the pleasures to share. 
 He bears a gilt cross as a strong potent charm. 
 Success to secure and to shield from all harm. 
 And now to the forest with pleasure and pride, 
 The light hearted company joyfully ride. 
 The forest resounds with the bay and the shout 
 Which rings in wild chorus so cheerfully out. 
 The stag is aroused from his wild thicket lair, 
 And crouches more closely the fern sheltered 
 
 hare. 
 The game is secured ere the rays of the sun. 
 Send forth from their zenith the fervor of noon. 
 
165 
 
 The bugle is sounded, whose echo recalls 
 The thrice happy party to Lindenwald^s halls. 
 The scene was delightful, yet wakened the sigh. 
 As memory turned to the years now gone by. 
 But no lurking foe now in ambush is near 
 To check the enjoyment or lessen the cheer. 
 
 6. 
 
 The feast of the evening was amply prepared 
 With spoils of the chase, but ere yet it was 
 
 shared, 
 Arrayed in their badges of honor and state. 
 The guests and attendants impatiently wait 
 The seal of the abbott when Ludwig now 
 
 stands, 
 And shares with the Countess his titles and lands, 
 And Agnis as Countess of Lindenwald's bowers, 
 Enjoys with Count Albrecht his honors and 
 
 powers. 
 The feast is now spread and the abbott has 
 
 blessed 
 Each thrice happy pair, each attendant and 
 
 guest 
 While all are delighted, and happy and gay 
 Are Lindenwald^s halls at the close of the day. 
 
tK , ji. liMW'^li-A. 
 
 Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process 
 Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
 Treatment Date: Oct. 2009 
 
 PreservationTechnologies 
 
 A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 
 
 1 1 1 Thomson Park Drive 
 Cranberry Township, PA 16066