Select Poetry.

Hawke's Bay Times, Volume XIII, Issue 578, 18 May 1868, Page 3

Select Poetry.

Oil AH AND THE FHIISIAN, {TTUE victor stood beside the «{•<.!!, 'O And by tbe grinning dead. “ Tie land is oui£, the foe is ours, But while Uo spoke there came a baud Of font-sore, pantin'; men; “ The latest prisoner, ray lord, We took him in the glen, And left behind dead hostages That we would come again.” The victor spoke, •• Thou, Persian dog 5 Hast cost more lives than thine; That was thy will, and thou shouldst die Pull thrice, if i had uiiny.^ The Persian bent his head, “ I know both sides of victory, And only grieve,” he said, “ Because there will bo none- to fight ’Gainst thee, when I am dead. “ No Persian faints at sight of Heath, Wo know his lace too well, He waits for ns on mountain side, In town, or shelter’d dell, And yet I crave a cup of wine, Thy first and latest boon, For I have gone three days athirst, And fear lest I may swoon, Or even wrong mine enemy, By dying now, too soon.” The cup was brought, but ere ho drank, The Persian shudder'd white, Oinflr replied, “ What fearest thou? The wine is clear and bright; W» are no poisoners, not we, _Nor traitors to a guest, No dart behind, nor dart within, Shall pierce thy gallant breast; Till thou hast drained the draught, 0 foe, Thou dost In safety rest.” The Persian smiled, with parched lips, Upon the foemeu round, Then poured the precious liipiid 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: Omtir, the worthy, battle fair la but thy god-like right.” Upsprang a wrathful army then,— Oraitr restrained them all, Upon uo battle-field had rung More clear his martial call, The dead men’s hair bo.-ido his feet As by a breeze was stirr’d, The farthest henchman in the camp The noble mandate heard; 1 Hold 1 If there be a sacred thing, It is the warrior’s word.” S. A. D. I.