Part 6 / Book 2 — THE LAST CRUSADER.

Left to the Saviour's conquering foes, The land that girds the Saviour's grave; Where Godfrey's crosier-standard rose, He saw the crescent-banner wave. There, o'er the gently-broken vale, The halo-light on Zion glow'd; There Kedron, with a voice of wail, By tombs[F] of saints and heroes flow'd; There still the olives silver o'er The dimness of the distant hill; There still the flowers that Sharon bore, Calm air with many an odour fill. Slowly The Last Crusader eyed The towers, the mount, the stream, the plain, And thought of those whose blood had dyed The earth with crimson streams in vain! He thought of that sublime array, The Hosts, that over land and deep The Hermit marshall'd on their way, To see those towers, and halt to weep![G] Resign'd the loved familiar lands, O'er burning wastes the cross to bear, And rescue from the Paynim's hands The empire of a sepulchre! And vain the hope, and vain the loss, And vain the famine and the strife; In vain the faith that bore the Cross, The valour prodigal of life! And vain was Richard's lion-soul, And guileless Godfrey's patient mind— Like waves on shore, they reach'd the goal, To die, and leave no trace behind! "O God!" the last Crusader cried, "And art thou careless of thine own? For us thy Son in Salem died, And Salem is the scoffer's throne! "And shall we leave, from age to age, To godless hands the Holy Tomb? Against thy saints the heathen rage— Launch forth thy lightnings, and consume!" Swift, as he spoke, before his sight A form flash'd, white-robed, from above; All Heaven was in those looks of light, But Heaven, whose native air is love. "Alas!" the solemn Vision said, "Thy God is of the shield and spear— To bless the Quick and raise the Dead, The Saviour-God descended here! "Ask not the Father to reward The hearts that seek, through blood, the Son; O warrior! never by the sword The Saviour's Holy Land is won!"