AND still the Tartar loves the shores The Euxine washes, and deplores The glories of his race, gone by! And often when the east-winds sigh, -- The winds that warm from Asia blow, -- He dreams 't is the murmur of hosts that go Forth with Genghis and Timour strong; And his dark eyes flash, and he hears the song Of the victors sung where the tent lines glisten, While, couched on carpets Bokhara wove For the chiefs that over their pastures rove, The Khan and his jewelled ladies listen. But the wind goes by, and a roll of drums From the fort of the conquering Russian comes; And their ships sail over the Euxine's foam, And their bells ring clear from tower and dome: "It was written in Fate's decree," he cries; "Allah requite us in Paradise!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AFTER WRITING A POEM by DAVID IGNATOW HIRAM POWERS' GREEK SLAVE by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN: THE FIRST DAY: ROBERT OF SICILY by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW PICTURES FROM APPLEDORE: 1 by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL FUNERAL by ETHEL SKIPTON BARRINGER A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 20 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT ON THE SINKING OF THE VICTORIA by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN |