Ii monologue — Ismael; an oriental tale. With other poems

Sees’t thou yon crescent gleaming from afar, Like half-hid influence of some meteor star? 40 It glows on Ismael’s tent; the sentry there, With cautious step, keeps more than common care. But say, why (lord of all this num’rous band, The sword of conquest flaming in his hand) He, he alone, of all his armies yield, Is absent now from Caymyr’s tented field; When mark’d by royal jealousy’s keen eye, The Sage of Ardevil[6] was doom’d to die; He, whose high soul e’er soar’d on sacred wings, Above the toils of kingdoms and of kings. 50 Three sons he left; and two their danger knew, Of age to see them, and to fly them too. The third, young Ismael, then of infant age, His father’s friends convey’d from Rustam’s rage. And flying hence, to Pyrchilim the Brave, His sire’s illustrious friend, the child they gave: And there he grew, and every virtuous grace Enrich’d the noblest of Shich-Eidar’s race; Talent and honour all his soul possest, In form of scarcely human beauty drest. 60