But lo! a messenger, whose reeking steed Bears tacit witness to its rider’s speed, Stops at the palace gate:--“Haste, haste, I bear “Important tidings to the Sultan’s ear.” Admittance granted, from his breast he drew A scroll, and gave it to Alvante’s view:-- The Sultan open’d it--his steady cheek Was little wont his inward thoughts to speak; 280 But, as he read, his varying hue exprest That Fury’s tortures rack’d his raging breast;-- Knit were his sable brows--his flashing eye Shone like some orbit in a clouded sky;-- Fierce tow’rd his giant form, his hand of war Stretch’d down to grasp his pond’rous scymitar;-- His sounding voice was like the thunder’s roll, And all the hero swell’d his mighty soul:-- “’Tis well; the rebel boy shall rue the hour “When first he dar’d to tempt Alvante’s pow’r:-- “Brav’d by a stripling! where is then this arm, “At which whole squadrons fled with dire alarm? “Am _I_ not king? and shall this Ismael dare “To seize a crown which I alone should wear?-- “No, never no! but hence--command Reylain “To draw our troops before high Tauris’ plain.” He ceas’d--but still his mutt’ring tongue, the fire Which flash’d his eye, declar’d his inward ire. While deepest passions o’er his senses came, The monarch’s musing, and the hero’s flame, 300 Mingled with many a pang that conscience brought, To dampen courage, and t’ embitter thought.
His fav’rite slave approach’d, the salem made, And some low words in whisp’ring accent said-- “’Tis right, them instant to our presence bring,” With hasty tone replied the haughty king. The doors of polish’d cedar open flew, And gave a warrior legion to the view; While, in the midst, fast bound in iron bands, A warlike youth, with scorn indignant, stands: 310 The simply-splendid garments that he wore, Some blast of battle-storm had lately tore, And the rich gold blush’d deep in harden’d gore; Yet his bright face and form divine, where love And war’s fierce monarch for the mastery strove, Seem’d ’mid soil’d garb and fett’ring chains t’ exclaim, “Behold a son of Conquest and of Fame.”
He that had seen his eye of azure fair, (Tint in those darkly-glowing climes so rare,) And the soft cygnet down, that now began 320 His cheek to blossom, and to promise man, And a sweet something o’er it spread--might trace A woman’s softness in that god-like face. But, had he seen the almost burning flame That o’er his eye, when rous’d by wrath or fame, Flash’d (like the lightning hurl’d from heav’nly arm, When hush’d each wind, on ocean’s azure calm), And, with a blaze that pierc’d the bosom’s core, Made it still fiercer from the peace before: And, had he mark’d the form, the tow’ring crest, 330 The gait, that spurn’d the vile earth which it prest, Oh! he would cry,--“Sure Glory’s charms alone “Can call this youth of mightiness her own.” As glares some lion on his num’rous foe; So here and there bright flash’d his eye-ball’s glow: Upon the guards who held him, first it beam’d; Then to the Sultan’s lofty form it gleam’d: Alvante met the fire with steady eye, Which darted back the flame of majesty, 339 Then, turning to the guards,--“Ye’ve speeded well, “Where met ye this young warrior?--Sadi, tell.”-- With lowly salem, the time-serving man, Pimp to his master’s vices, thus began:--