650 ANNUAL REGISTER, 1813. 



And oft upon his mother's breast 

 That sound had harmonized his rest ; 

 And oft had Hassan's Youth along 



It's bank been soothed by Beauty's song ; 

 And softer seemed each melting tone 

 Of Music mingled with its own. — 

 But ne'er shall Hassan's Age repose 

 Along the brink at Twilight's close — 

 The stream that filled that font is fled— 

 The blood that warmed his heart is shed— 

 And here no more siiall human voice 

 Be heard to rage — regret — rejoice — 

 The last sad note that swelled the gale 

 Was woman's wildest funeral wail — 

 That quench'd in silence — all is still, 

 But the lattice that flaps when the wind is shrill- 

 Though raves the gust, and floods the rain, 

 No hand shall close its clasp again. 

 On desart sands 'twere joy to scan 

 The rudest steps of fellow man. 

 So here the very voice of Grief 

 Might wake an Echo like relief— 

 At least 'twould say, " all are not gone ;'* 

 There lingers Life, though but in one— 

 For many a gilded chamber's there. 

 Unmeet for Solitude to share ; 

 Within that dome as yet Decay 

 Hath slowly worked her cankering way— 

 But Gloom is gather'd o'er the gate, 

 Nor there the Fakir's self will wait ; 

 Nor there will wandering Dervise stay, 

 For Bounty cheers not his delay ; 

 Nor there will weary stranger halt 

 To share the master's " bread and salt.'* 

 Alike must Wealth and Poverty 

 Pass heedless and unheeded by, 

 For Courtesy and Pity died 

 With Hassan on the mountain side.— 

 His roof — that refuge unto men— 

 Is Desolation's hungry den. — 



The guest flies the hall, and the vassal from labour, 



Since his turban was cleft by the infidel's sabre ! 



