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XVI
Still by the shore Alp mutely mused,
And woo`d the freshness night diffused.
There shrinks no ebb in that tideless sea,
Which changeless rolls eternally;
So that wildest of waves, in their angriest mood,
Scarce break on the bounds of the land for a rood;
And the powerless moon beholds them flow,
Heedless if she come or go:
Calm or high, in main or bay,
On their course she hath no sway.
The rock unworn its base doth bare,
And looks o`er the surf, but it comes not there;
And the fringe of the foam may be seen below,
On the line that it left long ages ago:
A smooth short space of yellow sand
Between it and the greener land.
He wander`d on, along the beach,
Till within the range of a carbine`s reach
Of the leaguer`d wall; but they saw him not,
Or how could he `scape from the hostile shot,
Did traitors lurk in the Christian`s hold?
Were their hands grown stiff, or their hearts wax`d cold,
I know not, in sooth; but from yonder wall
There flash`d no fire, and there hiss`d no ball,
Though he stood beneath the bastion`s frown,
That flank`d the sea-ward gate of the town;
Though he heard the sound, and could almost tell
The sullen words of the sentinel,
As his measured step on the stone below
Clank`d, as he paced it to and fro;
And he saw the lean dogs beneath the wall
Hold o`er the dead their carnival,
Gorging and growling o`er carcass and limb!
They were too busy to bark at him!
From a Tartar`s skull they had stripp`d the flesh,
As ye peel the fig when its fruit is fresh;
And their white tusks crunch`d o`er the whiter skull,
As it slipped through their jaws, when their edge grew dull,
As they lazily mumbled the bones of the dead,
When they scarce could rise from the spot where they fed;
So well had they broken a lingering fast
With those who had fall`n for that night`s repast.
And Alp knew, by the turbans that roll`d on the sand,
The foremost of these were the best of his band:
Crimson and green were the shawls of their wear,
And each scalp had a single long tuft of hair,
All the rest was shaven and bare.
The scalps were in the wild-dog`s maw,
The hair was tangled round his jaw.
But close by the shore, on the edge of the gulf,
There sat a vulture flapping a wolf,
Who had stolen from the hills, but kept away,
Scared by the dogs, from the human prey;
But he seized on his share of a steed that lay,
Pick`d by the birds, on the sands of the bay.
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