Page:Lalla Rookh - Moore - 1817.djvu/110

 Those lanterns countless as the winged lights That spangle INDIA'S field on showery nights,-- Far as their formidable gleams they shed, The mighty tents of the beleaguerer spread, Glimmering along the horizon's dusky line And thence in nearer circles till they shine Among the founts and groves o'er which the town In all its armed magnificence looks down. Yet, fearless, from his lofty battlements MOKANNA views that multitude of tents; Nay, smiles to think that, tho' entoiled, beset, Not less than myriads dare to front him yet;-- That friendless, throneless, he thus stands at bay, Even thus a match for myriads such as they. "Oh, for a sweep of that dark Angel's wing, "Who brushed the thousands of the Assyrian King "To darkness in a moment that I might "People Hell's chambers with yon host to-night! "But come what may, let who will grasp the throne, "Caliph or Prophet, Man alike shall groan; "