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More free her timid bosom beat,

The maid pursued her silent guide;
And though her terror urged retreat,

How could she quit her Selim's side ?
How teach her tender lips to chide ?

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They reach'd at length a grotto, hewn

By nature, but enlarged by art,
Where oft her lute she wont to tune,

And oft her Koran conn'd apart;
And oft in youthful reverie
She dream'd what Paradise might be:
Where woman's parted soul shall go
Her Prophet had disdain'd to show;
But Selim's mansion was secure,
Nor deem'd she, could he long endure
His bower in other worlds of bliss,
Without her, most beloved in this !
Oh! who so dear with him could dwell?
What Houri soothe him half so well?

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Since last she visited the spot
Some change seem'd wrought within the grot:
It might be only that the night
Disguised things seen by better light:
That brazen lamp but dimly threw
A ray of no celestial hue;


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But in a nook within the cell
Her eye on stranger objects fell.
There arms were piled, not such as wield
The turban'd Delis in the field;
But brands of foreign blade and hilt,
And one was red-perchance with guilt!
Ah! how without can blood be spilt ?
A cup too on the board was set
That did not seem to hold sherbet.
What may this mean? she turn'd to see
Her Selim—“Oh! can this be he?"

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His robe of pride was thrown aside,

His brow no high-crown'd turban bore,
But in its stead a shawl of red,

Wreathed lightly round, his temples wore: That dagger, on whose hilt the gem Were worthy of a diadem, No longer glitter'd at his waist, Where pistols unadorn'd were braced; 620 And from his belt a sabre swung, And from his shoulder loosely hung The cloak of white, the thin capote That decks the wandering Candiote: Beneath—his golden plated vest

625 Clung like a cuirass to his breast; The greaves below his knee that wound With silvery scales were sheathed and bound.


But were it not that high command
Spake in his eye, and tone, and hand,
All that a careless eye could see
In him was some young Galiongée. (28)

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“ I said I was not what I seem'd;

“ And now thou seest my words were true: “ I have a tale thou hast not dream'd, 635

“ If sooth-its truth must others rue. “ My story now 'twere vain to hide, " I must not see thee Osman's bride: “ But had not thine own lips declared “How much of that young heart I shared, 640 “ I could not, must not, yet have shown • The darker secret of my own. “ In this I speak not now of love; " That, let time, truth, and peril prove: “ But first-Oh! never wed another

845 “ Zuleika! I am not thy brother!"

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- Thou led'st me here perchance to kill;

“ If thou hast cause for vengeance, see! “My breast is offer'd—take thy fill!

" Far better with the dead to be

6 Than live thus nothing now to thee: " Perhaps far worse, for now I know “ Why Giaffir always seem'd thy foe; " And I, alas! am Giaffir's child, “For whom thou wert contemn'd, reviled. 66 If not thy sister--would'st thou save “My life, Oh! bid me be thy slave!"

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XII. “My slave, Zuleika !-nay, I'm thine:

“ But, gentle love, this transport calm, " Thy lot shall yet be link'd with mine; " I swear it by our Prophet's shrine,

" And be that thought thy sorrow's balm. “ So may the Koran (29) verse display'd “ Upon its steel direct my blade, “ In danger's hour to guard us both, " As I preserve that awful oath! “ The name in which thy heart hath prided

“ Must change; but, my Zuleika, know, “ That tie is widen'd, not divided,

“ Although thy Sire's my deadliest foe. * My father was to Giaffir all

us That Selim late was deem'd to thee; 56 That brother wrought a brother's fall,

* But spared, at least, my infancy;

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6 And lull'd me with a vain deceit
“ That yet a like return may meet.
6 He rear'd me, not with tender help,

“But like the nephew of a Cain ; (30) “ He watch'd me like a lion's whelp,

“ That gnaws and yet may break his chain,

“ My father's blood in every vein “ Is boiling; but for thy dear sake - 690 “ No present vengeance will I take;

“ Though here I must no more remain. “ But first, beloved Zuleika! hear “ How Giaffir wrought this deed of fear.


XIII. “ How first their strife to rancour grew, 695

“ If love or envy made them foes, “ It matters little if I knew; " In fiery spirits, slights, though few

“ And thoughtless, will disturb repose. “ In war Abdallah's arm was strong, “ Remember'd yet in Bosniac song, “ And Paswan's (31) rebel hordes attest " How little love they bore such guest: “ His death is all I need relate, “ The stern effect of Giaffir's hate;

705 " And how my birth disclosed to me, - Whate'er beside it makes, hath made me free.

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