Solomon, where is thy throne? It is gone in the wind. Babylon, where is thy might? It is gone in the wind. Like the swift shadows of noon, like the d… - James Clarence Mangan

I see thee ever in my dreams,
Karaman!
Thy hundred hills, thy thousand streams,
Karaman, O Karaman!
As when thy gold-bright morning gleams,
As when the deepening sunset seams
With lines of light thy hills and streams,
Karaman!
So thou loomest on my dreams,
Karaman!
On all my dreams, my homesick dreams,
Karaman, O Karaman!The hot bright plains, the sun, the skies,
Karaman!
Seem death-black marble to mine eyes,
Karaman, O Karaman!
I turn from summer’s blooms and dyes;
Yet in my dreams thou dost arise
In welcome glory to mine eyes,
Karaman!
In thee my life of life yet lies,
Karaman!
Thou still art holy in mine eyes,
Karaman, O Karaman!Ere my fighting years were come,
Karaman!
Troops were few in Erzerome,
Karaman, O Karaman!
Their fiercest came from Erzerome,
They came from Ukhbar’s palace dome,
They dragg’d me forth from thee, my home,
Karaman!
Thee, my own, my mountain home,
Karaman!
In life and death, my spirit’s home,
Karaman, O Karaman!O none of all my sisters ten,
Karaman!
Loved like me my fellow-men,
Karaman, O Karaman!
I was mild as milk till then,
I was soft as silk till then;
Now my breast is as a den,
Karaman!
Foul with blood and bones of men,
Karaman!
With blood and bones of slaughter’d men,
Karaman, O Karaman!My boyhood’s feelings newly born,
Karaman!
Wither’d like young flowers uptorn,
Karaman, O Karaman!
And in their stead sprang weed and thorn;
What once I loved now moves my scorn:
My burning eyes are dried to horn,
Karaman!
I hate the blessèd light of morn,
Karaman!
It maddens me, the face of morn,
Karaman, O Karaman!The Spahi wears a tyrant’s chains,
Karaman!
But bondage worse than this remains,
Karaman, O Karaman!
His heart is black with million stains:
Thereon, as on Kaf’s blasted plains,
Shall nevermore fall dews and rains,
Karaman!
Save poison-dews and bloody rains,
Karaman!
Hell’s poison-dews and bloody rains,
Karaman, O Karaman!But life at worst must end ere long,
Karaman!
Azrael avengeth every wrong,
Karaman, O Karaman!
Of late my thoughts rove more among
Thy fields; o’ershadowing fancies throng
My mind, and texts of bodeful song,
Karaman!
Azrael is terrible and strong,
Karaman!
His lightning sword smites all ere long,
Karaman, O Karaman!There ’s care to-night in Ukhbar’s halls,
Karaman!
There ’s hope, too, for his trodden thralls,
Karaman, O Karaman!
What lights flash red along yon walls?
Hark! hark! the muster-trumpet calls!
I see the sheen of spears and shawls,
Karaman!
The foe! the foe!—they scale the walls,
Karaman!
To-night Muràd or Ukhbar falls,
Karaman, O Karaman!

<small>THE WAIL</small>Here we meet, we three, at length,
Amrah, Osman, Perizad:
Shorn of all our grace and strength,
Poor, and old, and very sad.
We have lived, but live no more;
Life has lost its gloss for us,
Since the days we spent of yore
Boating down the Bosphorus!
La’ laha, il Allah!
The Bosphorus, the Bosphorus!
Old time brought home no loss for us;
We felt full of health and heart
Upon the foamy Bosphorus!La’ laha, il Allah!
Days indeed! A shepherd’s tent
Served us then for house and fold;
All to whom we gave or lent,
Paid us back a thousandfold.
Troublous years, by myriads wail’d,
Rarely had a cross for us,
Never, when we gaily sail’d
Singing down the Bosphorus.
La’ laha, il Allah!
The Bosphorus, the Bosphorus!
There never came a cross for us,
While we daily, gaily sail’d
Adown the meadowy Bosphorus.La’ laha, il Allah!
Blithe as birds we flew along,
Laugh’d and quaff’d and stared about;
Wine and roses, mirth and song,
Were what most we cared about.
Fame we left for quacks to seek,
Gold was dust and dross for us,
While we lived from week to week
Boating down the Bosphorus.
La’ laha, il Allah!
The Bosphorus, the Bosphorus!
And gold was dust and dross for us,
While we lived from week to week
Boating down the Bosphorus.La’ laha, il Allah!
Friends we were, and would have shared
Purses, had we twenty full.
If we spent, or if we spared,
Still our funds were plentiful.
Save the hours we pass’d apart,
Time brought home no loss for us;
We felt full of hope and heart
While we clove the Bosphorus.
La’ laha, il Allah!
The Bosphorus, the Bosphorus!
For life has lost its gloss for us
Since the days we spent of yore
Upon the pleasant Bosphorus!La’ laha, il Allah!
Ah! for youth’s delirious hours,
Man pays well in after-days,
When quenched hopes and palsied powers
Mock his love-and-laughter days.
Thorns and thistles on our path
Took the place of moss for us,
Till false fortune’s tempest-wrath
Drove us from the Bosphorus.
La’ laha, il Allah!
The Bosphorus, the Bosphorus!
When thorns took place of moss for us,
Gone was all! Our hearts were graves
Deep, deeper than the Bosphorus.La’ laha, il Allah!
Gone is all! In one abyss
Lie health, youth, and merriment!
All we’ve learnt amounts to this:
Life’s a sad experiment!
What it is we trebly feel
Pondering what it was for us,
When our shallop’s bounding keel
Clove the joyous Bosphorus.
La’ laha, il Allah!
The Bosphorus, the Bosphorus!
We wail for what life was for us,
When our shallop’s bounding keel
Clove the joyous Bosphorus!<small>THE WARNING</small>La’ laha, il Allah!
Pleasure tempts, yet man has none
Save himself t’ accuse, if her
Temptings prove, when all is done,
Lures hung out by Lucifer.
Guard your fire in youth, O friends!
Manhood’s is but phosphorus,
And bad luck attends and ends
Boatings down the Bosphorus!
La’ laha, il Allah!
The Bosphorus, the Bosphorus!
Youth’s fire soon wanes to phosphorus,
And slight luck or grace attends
Your boaters down the Bosphorus!

Roll forth, my song, like the rushing river, That sweeps along to the mighty sea;
God will inspire me while I deliver My soul of thee!Tell thou the world, when my bones lie whitening Amid the last homes of youth and eld,
That once there was one whose veins ran lightning No eye beheld.Tell how his boyhood was one drear night-hour, How shone for him, through his griefs and gloom,
No star of all heaven sends to light our Path to the tomb.Roll on, my song, and to after ages Tell how, disdaining all earth can give,
He would have taught men, from wisdom’s pages, The way to live.And tell how trampled, derided, hated, And worn by weakness, disease, and wrong,
He fled for shelter to God, who mated His soul with song.—With song which alway, sublime or vapid, Flow’d like a rill in the morning beam,
Perchance not deep, but intense and rapid: A mountain stream.Tell how this Nameless, condemn’d for years long To herd with demons from hell beneath,
Saw things that made him, with groans and tears, long For even death.Go on to tell how, with genius wasted, Betray’d in friendship, befool’d in love,
With spirit shipwreck’d, and young hopes blasted, He still, still strove;Till, spent with toil, dreeing death for others (And some whose hands should have wrought for him,
If children live not for sires and mothers), His mind grew dim;And he fell far through that pit abysmal, The gulf and grave of Maginn and Burns,
And pawn’d his soul for the devil’s dismal Stock of returns.But yet redeem’d it in days of darkness, And shapes and signs of the final wrath,
When death, in hideous and ghastly starkness, Stood on his path.And tell how now, amid wreck and sorrow, And want, and sickness, and houseless nights,
He bides in calmness the silent morrow, That no ray lights.And lives he still, then? Yes! Old and hoary At thirty-nine, from despair and woe,
He lives, enduring what future story Will never know.Him grant a grave to, ye pitying noble, Deep in your bosoms: there let him dwell!
He, too, had tears for all souls in trouble, Here and in hell.