Page:The Statues in the Block and Other Poems (1881).djvu/34

The fierce sun glares on the clouds of dust and battle smoke,
The hoarsened soldiers choke in the blinding heat.
Muley the King is afield, but sick to the death.
Borne on a litter he lies, his blood on fire, his eyes
Flaming with fever light.
Hamah Tabah the Captain, stands by the curtained bed,
Telling him news of the fight—how the waves roll and
rise, and clash and mingle and seethe.
And Hamah bends to the scene. He peers under archéd hand—
As an eagle he stoops to the field. One hand on the hilt
Is white at the knuckles, so fiercely gripped; while the hand
That had parted the curtains before now clutches the silk and wrings.

Hamet's squadrons are moving in mass—their lines are circling the plain!
The thousands of Muley stand, like bison dazed by an earthquake;