The Beginning of the Story - Page 20 of 25

305   Here, panic stalked among the horde
Of luckless foes on whom we warred;
With famed Menander's deadly sword,
The camp was ours, and victory scored!

306   Victory chased the gloom of late
Settling on the imperiled state,
Hearts once in dread became elate;
The city open flung its gate.

307   All the state met us: royal king,
With subjects saved beneath our wing.
They came, their chorused thanks to bring;
Long did their acclamations ring!

308   The weary people, just made free
From erstwhile fearsome enemy,
Vied for the first approach to me
To kiss my garments gratefully.

309   Fame loudly, glibly interwove
Hurrahs and Vivas as it rove;
The hails of 'Savior, thanks!' thereof
Reaching the skies and stars above.

310   The more they joyed, discovering
Me grandson of their loved king.
The monarch's joy, no lesser thing –
Tears did out of his gladness spring.

311   To the great palace we were squired,
My troops to rst their bodies tired,
And though three days had nigh transpired,
The whole state never once retired.

312   But our happiness was O
Clouded by Sorrow – treacherous foe!
My cherished mother's death, although
Long past, revived our common woe.

313   Here, my young heart acknowledged this:
On earth there is no perfect bliss.
For each one joy, a chain there is
Of griefs for man till death be his.

314   Five months there in Crotona, and
Thence to Albania must I wend.
But then who will Love's bidding fend,
When there's a Laura at the end?

315   We sped – a speed impatience spited.
Ah, could I fly, the pace were righted!
But... with the city ramparts sighted,
My heart, a deep anxiety blighted.

316   For o'er the fort the flag in view
Was not the banner Christians flew:
Crescent! ^[24] The state had fallen to
Aladdin, conquered countries' rue!

317   Reaching a rugged hilly place,
I bade my troops rest at the base,
But shortly came into our gaze
A Muslim band in measured pace.

318   They led a maid by cords oppressed,
To be beheaded, so we guessed.
My heart became more anxious lest
Laura, my life, be she distressed.

319   So that my fears might be allayed,
Fast on that band, I forced a raid.
Lucky who ran, else were they laid
Beneath my hatred-driven blade.

320   None left to lash my fury on,
I near the silent fettered one;
Unveil her... O! I gaze upon
My Laura! Deeper hurt is none!