“Ha, my fair Priestess!”—thus, with ready wile, The’ impostor turn’d to greet her—“thou, whose smile “Hath inspiration in its rosy beam “Beyond the’ Enthusiast’s hope or Prophet’s dream! “Light of the faith! who twin’st religion’s zeal “So close with love’s, men know not which they feel, “Nor which to sigh for, in their trance of heart, “The heaven thou preachest or the heaven thou art! “What should I be without thee? without thee “How dull were power, how joyless victory! “Though borne by angels, if that smile of thine “Bless’d not my banner, ’twere but half divine. “But—why so mournful, child? those eyes, that shone “All life last night—what!—is their glory gone? “Come, come—this morn’s fatigue hath made them pale, “They want rekindling—suns themselves would fail, “Did not their comets bring, as I to thee, “From light’s own fount supplies of brilliancy. “Thou seest this cup—no juice of earth is here, “But the pure waters of that upper sphere, “Whose rills o’er ruby beds and topaz flow, “Catching the gem’s bright colour as they go. “Nightly my Genii come and fill these urns— “Nay, drink—in every drop life’s essence burns; “’Twill make that soul all fire, those eyes all light— “Come, come, I want thy loveliest smiles to-night:— “There is a youth—why start?—thou saw’st him then; “Look’d he not nobly? such the godlike men “Thou’lt have to woo thee in the bowers above;— “Though _he_, I fear, hath thoughts too stern for love, “Too rul’d by that cold enemy of bliss “The world calls virtue—we must conquer this;— “Nay, shrink not, pretty sage! ’tis not for thee “To scan the mazes of Heaven’s mystery: “The steel must pass through fire, ere it can yield “Fit instruments for mighty hands to wield. “This very night I mean to try the art “Of powerful beauty on that warrior’s heart. “All that my Haram boasts of bloom and wit, “Of skill and charms, most rare and exquisite, “Shall tempt the boy;—young MIRZALA’S blue eyes, “Whose sleepy lid like snow on violets lies; “AROUYA’S cheeks, warm as a spring-day sun, “And lips that, like the seal of SOLOMON, “Have magic in their pressure; ZEBA’S lute, “And LILLA’S dancing feet, that gleam and shoot “Rapid and white as sea-birds o’er the deep— “All shall combine their witching powers to steep “My convert’s spirit in that soft’ning trance, “From which to heaven is but the next advance; “That glowing, yielding fusion of the breast, “On which Religion stamps her image best. “But hear me, Priestess!—though each nymph of these “Hath some peculiar, practis’d power to please, “Some glance or step which, at the mirror tried, “First charms herself, then all the world beside; “There still wants _one_, to make the victory sure, “One who in every look joins every lure; “Through whom all beauty’s beams concentred pass, “Dazzling and warm, as through love’s burning glass;