The tent of Alp was on the shore;

The sound was hushed, the prayer was o'er;

The watch was set, the night-round made,

All mandates issued and obeyed:

'Tis but another anxious night,

His pains the morrow may requite

With all Revenge and Love can pay, 290

In guerdon for their long delay.

Few hours remain, and he hath need

Of rest, to nerve for many a deed

Of slaughter; but within his soul

The thoughts like troubled waters roll.[ou]

He stood alone among the host;

Not his the loud fanatic boast

To plant the Crescent o'er the Cross,

Or risk a life with little loss,

Secure in paradise to be 300

By Houris loved immortally:

Nor his, what burning patriots feel,

The stern exaltedness of zeal,

Profuse of blood, untired in toil,

When battling on the parent soil.

He stood alone—a renegade

Against the country he betrayed;

He stood alone amidst his band,

Without a trusted heart or hand:

They followed him, for he was brave, 310

And great the spoil he got and gave;

They crouched to him, for he had skill

To warp and wield the vulgar will:[ov]

But still his Christian origin

With them was little less than sin.

They envied even the faithless fame

He earned beneath a Moslem name;

Since he, their mightiest chief, had been

In youth a bitter Nazarene.

They did not know how Pride can stoop, 320

When baffled feelings withering droop;

They did not know how Hate can burn

In hearts once changed from soft to stern;

Nor all the false and fatal zeal

The convert of Revenge can feel.

He ruled them—man may rule the worst,

By ever daring to be first:

So lions o'er the jackals sway;

The jackal points, he fells the prey,[ow] [351]

Then on the vulgar, yelling, press, 330

To gorge the relics of success.