"THE WATCHERS: Illustration of a Picture"

Graham’s Magazine, Vol. XXI, No. 2, August 1842.

Sultana! Sultana! thy watch is in vain—

With the sun that is setting in gloom o’er the main

The empire from Selim is passing away:

Ho! up with Mustapha! Death waits on delay!

The morning that broke on the spires of

SallesSaw his ships ride triumphant upon the blue sea;

But the foam of the waves, ere the noon, was made red

With the blood of the wounded, the dying and dead.

They came from the mountains, as sand on the gale

That sweeps o’er Zahara, his throne to assail;

The fierce Otazi and the stern Almohade

Were kind, to the war-bands that follow El Said.

The courser of Selim flies wild o’er the plain,

His flag on the seas shall ne’er flutter again;

The reign of the son of Mohammed is o’er,

And thine eyes shall delight in his presence no more!

Then bind up thy tresses and dash from thine eyes

The tear that betokens distrust of the skies;

Nor deem that around thee one spirit’s so poor

As to bend to a sceptre not swayed by a Moor.

Away with thy watching! the son of thy lord

Of the chiefs of Morocco is monarch and ward!

Give him into their hands! bid them think of his sire,

And his safety, their triumph—shall crown each desire!