Not a drum was heard, not a funeral-note,
As his corse to the ramparts we hurried;
Not a soldier discharged his farewell-shot
O'er the grave where our hero we buried.
We buried him darkly at dead of night,
The sods with our bayonets turning,
By the straggling moonbeam's misty light,
And the lantern dimly burning.
No useless coffin inclosed his breast,
Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him,
But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,
With his martial cloak around him.
Few and short were the prayers we said,
And we spoke not a word of sorrow;
But we stedfastly gazed on the face that was dead,
And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
We thought, as we hallowed his narrow bed,
And smoothed down his lonely pillow,
That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head,
And we far away on the billow!
Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone,
And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him,--
But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on
In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
But half of our heavy task was done,
When the clock struck the hour for retiring;
And we heard the distant and random gun
That the foe was sullenly firing.
Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
From the field of his fame fresh and gory;
We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone--
But we left him alone with his glory.
~Persian Tyranny.~
Sir R.K. Porter, in his travels in Persia, met with the sufferer from
despotic tyranny and cruelty whose story is here related. He informs us,
that the benignity of this person's countenance, united with the
crippled state of his venerable frame, from the effects of his
precipitation from the terrible height of execution, excited his
curiosity to inquire into the particulars of so amazing a preservation.
Entering into conversation on the amiable characters of the reigning
royal family of Persia, and comparing the present happiness of his
country under their rule, with its misery during the sanguinary
usurpation of the tyrant Nackee Khan, the good old man, who had himself
been so signal an example of that misery, was easily led to describe the
extraordinary circumstances of his own case. Being connected with the
last horrible acts, and consequent fall of the usurper, a double
interest accompanied his recital, the substance of which was nearly as
follows:--
Having by intrigues and assassinations made himself master of the regal
power at Shiraz, this monster of human kind found that the governor of
Ispahan, instead of adhering to him, had proclaimed the accession of the
lawful heir. No sooner was the intelligence brought to Nackee Khan than
he put himself at the head of his troops, and set forward to revenge his
contemned authority. When he arrived as far as Yezdikast, he encamped
his army for a short halt, near the tomb on the north side. Being as
insatiable of money as blood, he sent to the inhabitants of Yezdikast,
and demanded an immense sum in gold, which he insisted should instantly
be paid to his messengers. Unable to comply, the fact was respectfully
pleaded in excuse; namely, "that all the money the city had possessed
was already taken away by his own officers, and those of the opposite
party; and that, at present, there was scarce a tomaun in the place."
Enraged at this answer, he repaired, full of wrath, to the town, and,
ordering eighteen of the principal inhabitants to be brought before him,
again demanded the money, but with threats and imprecations which made
the hearers tremble. Still, however, they could only return the same
answer--"their utter inability to pay;" and the tyrant, without a
moment's preparation, commanded the men to be seized, and hurled from
the top of the precipice in his sight. Most of them were instantly
killed on the spot; others, cruelly maimed, died in terrible agonies
where they fell; and the describer of the dreadful scene was the only
one who survived. He could form no idea of how long he lay after
precipitation, utterly senseless; "but," added he, "by the will of God I
breathed again; and, on opening my eyes, found myself among the dead and
mangled bodies of my former neighbours and friends. Some yet groaned."
He then related, that, in the midst of his horror at the sight, he heard
sounds of yet more terrible acts, from the top of the cliff; and,
momentarily strengthened by fear of he knew not what, for he believed
that death had already grasped his own poor shattered frame, he managed
to crawl away, unperceived, into one of the numerous caverned holes
which perforate the foot of the steep. He lay there in an expiring
state the whole night, but in the morning was providentially discovered
by some of the town's people, who came to seek the bodies of their
murdered relatives, to mourn over and take them away for burial. The
poor man, feeble as he was, called to these weeping groups; who, to
their astonishment and joy, drew out one survivor from the dreadful heap
of slain. No time was lost in conveying him home, and administering
every kind of assistance; but many months elapsed before he was able to
move from his house, so deep had been the injuries inflicted in his
fall.
In the course of his awful narrative, he told us, that the noise which
had so appalled him, as he lay among the blood-stained rocks, was indeed
the acting of a new cruelty of the usurper. After having witnessed the
execution of his sentence on the eighteen citizens, whose asseverations
he had determined not to believe, Nackee Khan immediately sent for a
devout man, called Saied Hassan, who was considered the sage of the
place, and, for his charities, greatly beloved by the people. "This
man," said the Khan, "being a descendant of the Prophet, must know the
truth, and will tell it me. He shall find me those who can and will pay
the money." But the answer given by the honest Saied being precisely the
same with that of the innocent victims who had already perished, the
tyrant's fury knew no bounds, and, rising from his seat, he ordered the
holy man to be rent asunder in his presence, and then thrown over the
rock, to increase the monument of his vengeance below.
It was the tumult of this most dreadful execution, which occasioned the
noise that drove the affrighted narrator to the shelter of any hole from
the eye of merciless man. But the cruel scene did not end here. Even in
the yet sensible ear of the Saied, expiring in agonies, his execrable
murderer ordered that his wife and daughters should be given up to the
soldiers; and that, in punishment of such universal rebellion in the
town, the whole place should be razed to the ground. But this last act
of blood on a son of the Prophet cost the perpetrator his life. For the
soldiers themselves, and the nobles who had been partisans of the
usurper, were so struck with horror at the sacrilegious murder, and
appalled with the threatened guilt of violating women of the sacred
family, that they believed a curse must follow the abettors of such a
man. The next step, in their minds, was to appease Heaven by the
immolation of the offender; and, in the course of that very night, a
band of his servants cut the cords of his tent, which, instantly falling
in upon him, afforded them a secure opportunity of burying their
poniards in his body. The first strokes were followed by thousands. So
detested was the wretch, that in a few minutes his remains were hewn and
torn to pieces. It does not become men to lift the veil which lies over
the whole doom of a ruthless murderer; but there is something in the
last mortal yell of a tyrant, whether it be a Robespierre or a Nackee
Khan, which sounds as if mingled with a dreadful echo from the eternal
shore.
~Sketches in Virginia.~
The Rock Bridge is described by Mr. Jefferson, late President of the
United States, as one of the most sublime of the productions of Nature.
It is on the ascent of a hill which seems to have been cloven through
its length by some great convulsion of Nature.
Although the sides of the bridge are provided in some parts with a
parapet of fixed rocks, yet few persons have resolution to walk to them,
and look over into the abyss. The passenger involuntarily falls on his
hands, creeps to the parapet, and peeps over it. Looking down from this
height for the space of a minute, occasions a violent headache; and the
view from beneath is delightful in the extreme, as much as that from
above is exquisitely painful.
The following beautiful sketch is from the pen of the Rev. John Todd, of
Philadelphia, author of the Student's Manual, Simple Sketches, and other
admired works.