GORDON, OF KHARTOUM

Observer, Volume 7, Issue 231, 14 February 1885, Page 10

GORDON, OF KHARTOUM

(continued.)

(Written for the Observer.)

By W. R. Wnis. ' Lo! on the ramparts of tbe town, Alone and sad he stands — I He casts his weary eyes around, * . ■ . Far in the burning sands. What is it, he sees afar Beyond the rebel lines ; Is it the beams of morning &un That on bright helmets shines ? la it the gleam of rebel spear, Or friendly, help at hand ; Or stiff the phantom mirage there Across the barren stiand ? , Nearer and nearer— nearer still • ■*, , The silent hosts march on, , . He sees the waving bannerettes . i . . Emblazoned in the sun. : ■'" ;He sees the glittering spear and lance, The waving plumes, so, fair— He knows' brave sons are toiling on Across the desert there. : And, here, at last they come ; they come ; Alas ! — what dream so fair? Only tbe waste of, burning sand And phantom help were there. With beating heart; that never knew, defeat, • He ; turns his weary. step's -^patrols the town : Speaks words of hope to faithful hearts, to v friends Of doubtful. trust-r- warning of justice dread ; : Smiles on the little children in the street, Who look witb piteous ejes ..to him far bread. .He cannot give, and sad and bitter pangs Will rend his heart, and agony pent up Will burst its bounds,, arid cry — " How long, O ; . ; Lord I how long?" • ■-';•.. > .•■;,.' Who is it comes this way With stately mien, : now kneeling at his feet ? !No desert chiLd can boast a face more fair, :JSor queen of fabled lands more fairy grace 5 But low she kneels — " Master, foul treason reigns, ;Those whom thy hand has fed now turn on thee, .Traitor and dog alike this day are false ; And few true hearts are left : jet, flee — O, flee, ...My trusty friends now stand without, and wait To escort thee across the desert sands. Why dost thou wait ? the prophet of our God Will spare thee not, but tear that heart of thine, Whose every throb is true. Thine arm is strong, 'Arid oft struck treason down, but helpless now, And' cold thy heart shall be if here you stay. r O, haste thee, master, or it will be late ! I hear the rebels shout 'with joy elate. Treason is rife — the Madhi's at the gate !" ."I do but see thee— l hear thee not : Flee ! W[liy should I be coward ? ' Tell me the place Where treason reigns, and 1 *sill trample down The traitor hearts 1 Art thou nob fair Leila — Ira's rose ? Go, tell him to summon aid, 1 send thee with, a message to the true, And we will teach-these coward hearts how. few ' ' Brave men, and'true, can overthrow the false.' 1 ."Master, thou.kriowest riot- — last night ~ Ira. knelt before tlie 'prophet pi" his God, _ Anct, swore by Allah's aid to let him id, 1 He's false" to thee',' but' true! unto his' king ! '/The' town is'lostV and' 'thoa art lost indeed, (j< But' "standing 1 here, the : rebels come :', wilt thou ''"' : - K '!'ti6i'fLoe? n > ■■'> '■ ■ 'f 1 - " ! ■■'•^•!»> .• ' ' : .fitr.M v^-ii-'.\- ,; at M-._b ;»r! . .>:.'<>!: .■ K .i ; -„ , ^ eyejp.p. .heart more br.ayo, more true, ..Amp/igst the nearest rebels see -him dash—. 'He,, makes a : pathway 'through the "foe,' and -.., „ friends, „, ,_ , „ . . ,tCho' 'few, nb^'gatKer^nea'r^ arid ( 'tumult r r^igns, - '"'' '■' . ' litncl'irie'nd an ! d'f6eman fall.'- ' ' ' ;j,TJ ; pon the; tr,eapjierous^Jbill, the, morning sun .... j l&ilds- the .vriid^wp.y elets, of .the cataract, . jjpind thrpw^^ts.b'^rning^rajjs uppn'a .host „3Ph,at toils on 'mid vyave' and, sunken, rock. j .^.XJp.prLi'.the' vessel's deckhands .^p'rdpn'a friend, /'rteager to .scan'the^dii t^ne's'^'iK.h'ar/bum!. . ' - r , ''Q^fiey "nearer l cpme'td > wii.e ! i:e a; 'few short days' '" ' Hialfeft the fat'e'd 'to wn'to summon aid' ; ; . And bring relief. The morning mist rolls off — 1 'Ah' 1 . h^appy- sight •■ th'e'M'nei'els'sp tall/ v ; ' j> And ramparts bold, now stand in 'view.- But why Si This'flrie? : H'as'hei gone; the' brave '. : lAud trustful ? . In the grave, ; . "Ori massacred RiToo late to save ! !' J ' \'\ Then' r'd.se a' sob 'from' breaking hearts . to tear's 1 : "too late ! on every brow / W.ais'jwrit— top fate'^to's&ve oiir noble son, 6f : Kharlfoum, ( our peerless one. ■ -