Page:Lalla Rookh - Moore - 1817.djvu/23

 With turbaned heads of every hue and race, Bowing before that veiled and awful face, Like tulip-beds, of different shape and dyes, Bending beneath the invisible West-wind's sighs! What new-made mystery now for Faith to sign And blood to seal, as genuine and divine, What dazzling mimicry of God's own power Hath the bold Prophet planned to grace this hour?

Not such the pageant now, tho' not less proud; Yon warrior youth advancing from the crowd With silver bow, with belt of broidered crape And fur-bound bonnet of Bucharian shape. So fiercely beautiful in form and eye, Like war's wild planet in a summer sky; That youth to-day,--a proselyte, worth hordes Of cooler spirits and less practised swords,-- Is come to join, all bravery and belief, The creed and standard of the heaven-sent Chief.

Tho' few his years, the West already knows Young AZIM'S fame;--beyond the Olympian snows