Arabian Poetry, by W. A. Clouston, , at sacred-texts.com
Make now your choice—the terms we give,
Desponding victims, hear:
These fetters on your hands receive,
Or in your hearts the spear."
"And is the conflict o’er?" we cried;
"And lie we at your feet?
And dare you vauntingly decide
The fortune we must meet?
"A brighter day we soon shall see,
Though now the prospect lowers;
And conquest, peace, and liberty
Shall gild our future hours."
The foe advanced;—in firm array
We rushed o’er Sabla's sands;
And the red sabre marked our way
Amidst their yielding bands.
Then, as they writhed in Death's cold grasp,
We cried, "Our choice is made:
These hands the sabres’ hilt shall clasp,
Your hearts shall have the blade!"