STANZAS . [ O'er Ilion's plains , where once the warrior bled ] O'er Ilion's plains , where once the warrior bled , And once the poet rais'd his deathless strain , O'er Ilion's plains a weary driver led His stately camels : For the ruin'd fane Wide round the lonely scene his glance he threw , For now the red cloud faded in the west , And twilight o'er the silent landscape drew Her deep'ning veil ; eastward his course he prest : There , on the grey horizon's glimm'ring bound , Rose the proud columns of deserted Troy , And wand'ring shepherds now a shelter found Within those walls , that rang with princes joy ! Beneath a lofty porch the driver pass'd , Then , from his camels heav'd the heavy load ; Partook with them the simple , cool , repast , And , in short vesper , gave himself to God . From distant lands with merchandise he came , His all of wealth his patient servants bore ; Oft deep-drawn sighs his anxious wish proclaim To reach , again , his happy cottage door ; For there , his wife , his little children , dwell ; Their smiles shall pay the toil of many an hour . Ev'n now warm tears to expectation swell , As fancy o'er his mind extends her pow'r . A death-like stillness reign'd , where once the song , The song of heroes , wak'd the midnight air , Save , when a solemn murmur roll'd along , That seem'd to say — " For future worlds prepare . " For Time's imperious voice was frequent heard Shaking the marble temple to its fall , ( By hands he long had conquer'd , vainly rear'd ) And distant ruins answer'd to his call . While Hamet slept , his camels round him lay , Beneath him , all his store of wealth was pil'd ; And here , his cruise and empty wallet lay , And there , the flute that cheer'd him in the wild . The robber Tartar on his slumber stole , For o'er the waste , at eve , he watch'd his train ; Ah ! who his thirst of plunder shall control ? Who calls on him for mercy — calls in vain ! A poison'd poignard in his belt he wore , A crescent sword depended at his side , The deathful quiver at his back he bore , And infants — at his very look had died ! The moon's cold beam athwart the temple fell , And to his sleeping prey the Tartar led ; But soft ! — a startled camel shook his bell , Then stretch'd his limbs , and rear'd his drowsy head . Hamet awoke ! the poignard glitter'd high ! Swift from his couch he sprung , and ' scap'd the blow ; When from an unknown hand the arrows fly , That lay the ruffian , in his vengeance , low . He groan'd , he died ! from forth a column'd gate A fearful shepherd , pale and silent , crept , Who , as he watch'd his folded flock star-late , Had mark'd the robber steal where Hamet slept . He fear'd his own , and sav'd a stranger's life ! Poor Hamet clasp'd him to his grateful heart ; Then , rous'd his camels for the dusty strife , And , with the shepherd , hasten'd to depart . And now , Aurora breathes her fresh'ning gale , And faintly trembles on the eastern cloud ; And now , the sun , from under twilight's veil , Looks gaily forth , and melts her airy shroud . Wide o'er the level plains , his slanting beams Dart their long lines on Ilion's tower'd scite ; The distant Hellespont with morning gleams , And old Scamander winds his waves in light . All merry sound the camel bells , so gay , And merry beats fond Hamet's heart , for he , E'er the dim ev'ning steals upon the day , His children , wife and happy home shall see .