Thy band may perish, or thy friends may flee,
Farewell to Life--but not Adieu to thee!
Farewell to Life--but not Adieu to thee!
Byron
970
Return or fly! --What glitters in the rear?
'Tis Otho's banner--the pursuer's spear!
Are those the shepherds' fires upon the height?
Alas! they blaze too widely for the flight:
Cut off from hope, and compassed in the toil,
Less blood perchance hath bought a richer spoil!
XIII.
A moment's pause--'tis but to breathe their band,
Or shall they onward press, or here withstand?
It matters little--if they charge the foes
Who by their border-stream their march oppose, 980
Some few, perchance, may break and pass the line,
However linked to baffle such design.
"The charge be ours! to wait for their assault
Were fate well worthy of a coward's halt. "
Forth flies each sabre, reined is every steed,
And the next word shall scarce outstrip the deed:
In the next tone of Lara's gathering breath
How many shall but hear the voice of Death!
XIV.
His blade is bared,--in him there is an air
As deep, but far too tranquil for despair; 990
A something of indifference more than then
Becomes the bravest, if they feel for men--
He turned his eye on Kaled, ever near,
And still too faithful to betray one fear;
Perchance 'twas but the moon's dim twilight threw
Along his aspect an unwonted hue
Of mournful paleness, whose deep tint expressed
The truth, and not the terror of his breast.
This Lara marked, and laid his hand on his:
It trembled not in such an hour as this; 1000
His lip was silent, scarcely beat his heart,
His eye alone proclaimed, "We will not part!
Thy band may perish, or thy friends may flee,
Farewell to Life--but not Adieu to thee! "
The word hath passed his lips, and onward driven,
Pours the linked band through ranks asunder riven:
Well has each steed obeyed the armed heel,
And flash the scimitars, and rings the steel;
Outnumbered, not outbraved, they still oppose
Despair to daring, and a front to foes; 1010
And blood is mingled with the dashing stream,
Which runs all redly till the morning beam. [ks]
XV. [282]
Commanding--aiding--animating all,[283]
Where foe appeared to press, or friend to fall,
Cheers Lara's voice, and waves or strikes his steel,
Inspiring hope, himself had ceased to feel.
None fled, for well they knew that flight were vain;
But those that waver turn to smite again,
While yet they find the firmest of the foe
Recoil before their leader's look and blow: 1020
Now girt with numbers, now almost alone,
He foils their ranks, or re-unites his own;
Himself he spared not--once they seemed to fly--
Now was the time, he waved his hand on high,
And shook--Why sudden droops that plumed crest?
The shaft is sped--the arrow's in his breast!
That fatal gesture left the unguarded side,
And Death has stricken down yon arm of pride.
The word of triumph fainted from his tongue;
That hand, so raised, how droopingly it hung! 1030
But yet the sword instinctively retains,
Though from its fellow shrink the falling reins;
These Kaled snatches: dizzy with the blow,
And senseless bending o'er his saddle-bow,
Perceives not Lara that his anxious page
Beguiles his charger from the combat's rage:
Meantime his followers charge, and charge again;
Too mixed the slayers now to heed the slain!
XVI.
Day glimmers on the dying and the dead,
The cloven cuirass, and the helmless head; 1040
The war-horse masterless is on the earth,[kt][284]
And that last gasp hath burst his bloody girth;
And near, yet quivering with what life remained,
The heel that urged him and the hand that reined;
And some too near that rolling torrent lie,[ku]
Whose waters mock the lip of those that die;
That panting thirst which scorches in the breath
Of those that die the soldier's fiery death,
In vain impels the burning mouth to crave
One drop--the last--to cool it for the grave; 1050
With feeble and convulsive effort swept,
Their limbs along the crimsoned turf have crept;
The faint remains of life such struggles waste,
But yet they reach the stream, and bend to taste:
They feel its freshness, and almost partake--
Why pause? No further thirst have they to slake--
It is unquenched, and yet they feel it not;
It was an agony--but now forgot!
XVII.
Beneath a lime, remoter from the scene,
Where but for him that strife had never been, 1060
A breathing but devoted warrior lay:
'Twas Lara bleeding fast from life away.
His follower once, and now his only guide,
Kneels Kaled watchful o'er his welling side,
And with his scarf would staunch the tides that rush,
With each convulsion, in a blacker gush;
And then, as his faint breathing waxes low,
In feebler, not less fatal tricklings flow:
He scarce can speak, but motions him 'tis vain,
And merely adds another throb to pain. 1070
He clasps the hand that pang which would assuage,
And sadly smiles his thanks to that dark page,
Who nothing fears--nor feels--nor heeds--nor sees--
Save that damp brow which rests upon his knees;
Save that pale aspect, where the eye, though dim,
Held all the light that shone on earth for him.
Return or fly! --What glitters in the rear?
'Tis Otho's banner--the pursuer's spear!
Are those the shepherds' fires upon the height?
Alas! they blaze too widely for the flight:
Cut off from hope, and compassed in the toil,
Less blood perchance hath bought a richer spoil!
XIII.
A moment's pause--'tis but to breathe their band,
Or shall they onward press, or here withstand?
It matters little--if they charge the foes
Who by their border-stream their march oppose, 980
Some few, perchance, may break and pass the line,
However linked to baffle such design.
"The charge be ours! to wait for their assault
Were fate well worthy of a coward's halt. "
Forth flies each sabre, reined is every steed,
And the next word shall scarce outstrip the deed:
In the next tone of Lara's gathering breath
How many shall but hear the voice of Death!
XIV.
His blade is bared,--in him there is an air
As deep, but far too tranquil for despair; 990
A something of indifference more than then
Becomes the bravest, if they feel for men--
He turned his eye on Kaled, ever near,
And still too faithful to betray one fear;
Perchance 'twas but the moon's dim twilight threw
Along his aspect an unwonted hue
Of mournful paleness, whose deep tint expressed
The truth, and not the terror of his breast.
This Lara marked, and laid his hand on his:
It trembled not in such an hour as this; 1000
His lip was silent, scarcely beat his heart,
His eye alone proclaimed, "We will not part!
Thy band may perish, or thy friends may flee,
Farewell to Life--but not Adieu to thee! "
The word hath passed his lips, and onward driven,
Pours the linked band through ranks asunder riven:
Well has each steed obeyed the armed heel,
And flash the scimitars, and rings the steel;
Outnumbered, not outbraved, they still oppose
Despair to daring, and a front to foes; 1010
And blood is mingled with the dashing stream,
Which runs all redly till the morning beam. [ks]
XV. [282]
Commanding--aiding--animating all,[283]
Where foe appeared to press, or friend to fall,
Cheers Lara's voice, and waves or strikes his steel,
Inspiring hope, himself had ceased to feel.
None fled, for well they knew that flight were vain;
But those that waver turn to smite again,
While yet they find the firmest of the foe
Recoil before their leader's look and blow: 1020
Now girt with numbers, now almost alone,
He foils their ranks, or re-unites his own;
Himself he spared not--once they seemed to fly--
Now was the time, he waved his hand on high,
And shook--Why sudden droops that plumed crest?
The shaft is sped--the arrow's in his breast!
That fatal gesture left the unguarded side,
And Death has stricken down yon arm of pride.
The word of triumph fainted from his tongue;
That hand, so raised, how droopingly it hung! 1030
But yet the sword instinctively retains,
Though from its fellow shrink the falling reins;
These Kaled snatches: dizzy with the blow,
And senseless bending o'er his saddle-bow,
Perceives not Lara that his anxious page
Beguiles his charger from the combat's rage:
Meantime his followers charge, and charge again;
Too mixed the slayers now to heed the slain!
XVI.
Day glimmers on the dying and the dead,
The cloven cuirass, and the helmless head; 1040
The war-horse masterless is on the earth,[kt][284]
And that last gasp hath burst his bloody girth;
And near, yet quivering with what life remained,
The heel that urged him and the hand that reined;
And some too near that rolling torrent lie,[ku]
Whose waters mock the lip of those that die;
That panting thirst which scorches in the breath
Of those that die the soldier's fiery death,
In vain impels the burning mouth to crave
One drop--the last--to cool it for the grave; 1050
With feeble and convulsive effort swept,
Their limbs along the crimsoned turf have crept;
The faint remains of life such struggles waste,
But yet they reach the stream, and bend to taste:
They feel its freshness, and almost partake--
Why pause? No further thirst have they to slake--
It is unquenched, and yet they feel it not;
It was an agony--but now forgot!
XVII.
Beneath a lime, remoter from the scene,
Where but for him that strife had never been, 1060
A breathing but devoted warrior lay:
'Twas Lara bleeding fast from life away.
His follower once, and now his only guide,
Kneels Kaled watchful o'er his welling side,
And with his scarf would staunch the tides that rush,
With each convulsion, in a blacker gush;
And then, as his faint breathing waxes low,
In feebler, not less fatal tricklings flow:
He scarce can speak, but motions him 'tis vain,
And merely adds another throb to pain. 1070
He clasps the hand that pang which would assuage,
And sadly smiles his thanks to that dark page,
Who nothing fears--nor feels--nor heeds--nor sees--
Save that damp brow which rests upon his knees;
Save that pale aspect, where the eye, though dim,
Held all the light that shone on earth for him.
