consisted only of
thirty-two horse and forty foot; but their flanks and rear were secured
by the tent-ropes, and by a deep trench which they had filled with
lighted fagots, according to the practice of the Arabs. The enemy
advanced with reluctance, and one of their chiefs deserted, with thirty
followers, to claim the partnership of inevitable death. In every close
onset, or single combat, the despair of the Fatimites was invincible;
but the surrounding multitudes galled them from a distance with a cloud
of arrows, and the horses and men were successively slain; a truce was
allowed on both sides for the hour of prayer; and the battle at length
expired by the death of the last companions of Hosein. Alone, weary, and
wounded, he seated himself at the door of his tent. As he tasted a
drop of water, he was pierced in the mouth with a dart; and his son and
nephew, two beautiful youths, were killed in his arms. He lifted his
hands to heaven; they were full of blood; and he uttered a funeral
prayer for the living and the dead. In a transport of despair his sister
issued from the tent, and adjured the general of the Cufians, that he
would not suffer Hosein to be murdered before his eyes: a tear trickled
down his venerable beard; and the boldest of his soldiers fell back on
every side as the dying hero threw himself among them. The remorseless
Shamer, a name detested by the faithful, reproached their cowardice;
and the grandson of Mahomet was slain with three-and-thirty strokes of
lances and swords. After they had trampled on his body, they carried his
head to the castle of Cufa, and the inhuman Obeidollah struck him on the
mouth with a cane: "Alas," exclaimed an aged Mussulman, "on these
lips have I seen the lips of the apostle of God!" In a distant age
and climate, the tragic scene of the death of Hosein will awaken
the sympathy of the coldest reader. On the annual festival of his
martyrdom, in the devout pilgrimage to his sepulchre, his Persian
votaries abandon their souls to the religious frenzy of sorrow and
indignation.

When the sisters and children of Ali were brought in chains to the
throne of Damascus, the caliph was advised to extirpate the enmity of
a popular and hostile race, whom he had injured beyond the hope of
reconciliation. But Yezid preferred the councils of mercy; and the
mourning family was honorably dismissed to mingle their tears with
their kindred at Medina. The glory of martyrdom superseded the right of