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Article THE WELL OF THE DESERT. ← Page 2 of 3 →
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
The Well Of The Desert.
Hail ! balmy sleep , solace of human care—The poor man ' s friend , the soother of despair . Who can describe that weary traveller ' s dream ? Perchance in thought upon the banks of Seine Gazing on well-remember'd , love-lit eyes , Breathing his heart ' s young , hope-impassion'd sighs , He wander'd with some bright-hair'd Gallic maid
, At evening ' s silent hour and pleasing shade ; Perhaps the vine-clad hills of genial France Rose to his view in that delicious trance : The old chateau—the cradle of his race , His brave ancestors' ancient dwelling-place . Wood , stream , and valley—the dark abbey near—Scenes known to youth—by youthful love made dear .
'Chance on his ear the parting blessing hung , . Light graceful forms around his shoulders clung ; Again he felt the wild , convulsive swell , That wrung his heart at that sad word—farewell . And tears , warm tears , their crystal barrier broke , As starting from the earth , the soldier woke . Short time for feeling—wildlgazing round
y , Nor life , nor thing of life , Demourviile found . Amid the desert , friendless and alone , Arms—steed—and treacherous guide—all , all were gone . One hasty prayer the hopeless wanderer breathed ; One deep-drawn sigh his throbbing breast relieved .
Arm'd by despair with resolution ' s power , He wasted not in grief the fleeting hour , But traced with patient care the war-steed ' s track , Trusting the sand-press'd clue might guide him back To that red plain flush'd with Egyptian gore—To friends which hope scarce bade him think of more ! Long weary miles the worn-out traveller past ,
No friendly shrub its grateful shadow cast . Madden'd by thirst , he dragg'd his blister'd feet , Trusting some desert-well or camp to meet . Just as hope left him with a parting sigh A tinkling bell proclaim'd a camel nigh : With strength renew'd , he traced the welcome sound Till a rude Arab tent his footsteps found .
And , oh , bless'd sight ! a gushing fountain play'd By the green palm-trees' sleep-inviting shade . Frantic with joy , he rush'd , the stream to sip , And wash the film from off his blood-swoln lip ; When in his path an armed Arab sprung , His lance in rest , his bow behind him slung , — " Back , Frenchman , back ! the spring is not for thee ;
I he Desert s gift must unpolluted be . Back , victor , back ! Hath not Egyptian blood Slaked thy rank thirst ?—wouldst thou profane the flood That gush'd from earth at Alla ' s dread command , A stream of life amid the desert sand . " Vainly Demourviile pray'd , by every tie Of human love—or human sympathy .
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
The Well Of The Desert.
Hail ! balmy sleep , solace of human care—The poor man ' s friend , the soother of despair . Who can describe that weary traveller ' s dream ? Perchance in thought upon the banks of Seine Gazing on well-remember'd , love-lit eyes , Breathing his heart ' s young , hope-impassion'd sighs , He wander'd with some bright-hair'd Gallic maid
, At evening ' s silent hour and pleasing shade ; Perhaps the vine-clad hills of genial France Rose to his view in that delicious trance : The old chateau—the cradle of his race , His brave ancestors' ancient dwelling-place . Wood , stream , and valley—the dark abbey near—Scenes known to youth—by youthful love made dear .
'Chance on his ear the parting blessing hung , . Light graceful forms around his shoulders clung ; Again he felt the wild , convulsive swell , That wrung his heart at that sad word—farewell . And tears , warm tears , their crystal barrier broke , As starting from the earth , the soldier woke . Short time for feeling—wildlgazing round
y , Nor life , nor thing of life , Demourviile found . Amid the desert , friendless and alone , Arms—steed—and treacherous guide—all , all were gone . One hasty prayer the hopeless wanderer breathed ; One deep-drawn sigh his throbbing breast relieved .
Arm'd by despair with resolution ' s power , He wasted not in grief the fleeting hour , But traced with patient care the war-steed ' s track , Trusting the sand-press'd clue might guide him back To that red plain flush'd with Egyptian gore—To friends which hope scarce bade him think of more ! Long weary miles the worn-out traveller past ,
No friendly shrub its grateful shadow cast . Madden'd by thirst , he dragg'd his blister'd feet , Trusting some desert-well or camp to meet . Just as hope left him with a parting sigh A tinkling bell proclaim'd a camel nigh : With strength renew'd , he traced the welcome sound Till a rude Arab tent his footsteps found .
And , oh , bless'd sight ! a gushing fountain play'd By the green palm-trees' sleep-inviting shade . Frantic with joy , he rush'd , the stream to sip , And wash the film from off his blood-swoln lip ; When in his path an armed Arab sprung , His lance in rest , his bow behind him slung , — " Back , Frenchman , back ! the spring is not for thee ;
I he Desert s gift must unpolluted be . Back , victor , back ! Hath not Egyptian blood Slaked thy rank thirst ?—wouldst thou profane the flood That gush'd from earth at Alla ' s dread command , A stream of life amid the desert sand . " Vainly Demourviile pray'd , by every tie Of human love—or human sympathy .