DEATH OF THE LION AMONG THE RUINS OF SBEITLAH.
Hurriedly, disturbing night
With a red and sudden light,
Came the morning, as it knew
What there was for day to do.
And that ere it sank again,
It must show the Lion's den.
All night long, a sullen roar,
Like the billows on the shore,
Sounded on the desert air,
Telling who was lurking there.
And the sleepless child was prest
Closer to the mother's breast
Girdled by the watch-fire's ray
Did we wait the coming day;
And beneath the morning sun
Flashed the spear and gleamed the gun.
Forth we went to seek the shade
Where the Lion-King was laid.
Dark the towering palm was spread,
Like a giant, overhead;
But the dewy grass below
Served the Lion's path to show.
Long green bough and flowery spray
He had rent upon his way.
By the aqueduct, of old,
Where the silver river rolled,
Long since laid in ruins low—
But there still the waters flow.
Soon decayeth man's endeavour,
Nature's works endure for ever.
There we found the Lion's cave-
There we made the Lion's grave.
Three shots echoed—three—no more,
And the grass is red with gore.
For the claws and skin we come—
Let us bear our trophy home.
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