Page:Twilight Hours (1868).djvu/123

Rh The Persian smiled, with parched lips, upon the foe-men round, Then poured the precious liquid out, untasted, on the ground. "Till that is drunk, I live, said he, and while I live, I fight So, see you to your victory, for 'tis undone this night Omar the worthy, battle fair is but thy god-like right. Upsprang a wrathful army then, — Omar restrained them all, Upon no battle-field had rung more clear his martial call, The dead men's hair beside his feet as by a breeze was stirr'd, The farthest henchman in the camp the noble mandate heard : "Hold ! if there be a sacred thing, it is the warrior's word."