“Oh! look not so—beneath the skies “I now fear nothing but those eyes. “If aught on earth could charm or force “My spirit from its destin’d course,— “If aught could make this soul forget “The bond to which its seal is set, “’Twould be those eyes;—they, only they, “Could melt that sacred seal away! “But no—’tis fix’d—_my_ awful doom “Is fix’d—on this side of the tomb “We meet no more;—why, why did Heaven “Mingle two souls that earth has riven, “Has rent asunder wide as ours? “Oh, Arab maid, as soon the Powers “Of Light and Darkness may combine, “As I be link’d with thee or thine! “Thy Father⸺” “Holy ALLA save “Thou know’st him not—he loves the brave; “Nor lives there under heaven’s expanse “One who would prize, would worship thee “And thy bold spirit, more than he. “Oft when, in childhood, I have play’d “With the bright falchion by his side, “I’ve heard him swear his lisping maid “In time should be a warrior’s bride. “And still, whene’er at Haram hours “I take him cool sherbets and flowers, “He tells me, when in playful mood, “A hero shall my bridegroom be, “Since maids are best in battle woo’d, “And won with shouts of victory! “Nay, turn not from me—thou alone “Art form’d to make both hearts thy own. “Go—join his sacred ranks—thou know’st “The’ unholy strife these Persians wage:— “Good Heaven, that frown!—even now thou glow’st “With more than mortal warrior’s rage. “Haste to the camp by morning’s light, “And, when that sword is raised in fight, “Oh still remember, Love and I “Beneath its shadow trembling lie! “One victory o’er those Slaves of Fire, “Those impious Ghebers, whom my sire “Abhors⸺” “Hold, hold—thy words are death—” The stranger cried, as wild he flung His mantle back, and show’d beneath The Gheber belt that round him clung.—[232] “Here, maiden, look—weep—blush to see “All that thy sire abhors in me! “Yes—_I_ am of that impious race, “Those Slaves of Fire, who, morn and even, “Hail their Creator’s dwelling-place “Among the living lights of heaven:[233] “Yes—_I_ am of that outcast few, “To IRAN and to vengeance true, “Who curse the hour your Arabs came “To desolate our shrines of flame, “And swear, before God’s burning eye, “To break our country’s chains, or die! “Thy bigot sire,—nay, tremble not,— “He, who gave birth to those dear eyes, “With me is sacred as the spot “From which our fires of worship rise! “But know—’twas he I sought that night, “When, from my watch-boat on the sea, “I caught this turret’s glimmering light, “And up the rude rocks desperately “Rush’d to my prey—thou know’st the rest— “I climb’d the gory vulture’s nest, “And found a trembling dove within;— “Thine, thine the victory—thine the sin— “If Love hath made one thought his own, “That Vengeance claims first—last—alone! “Oh! had we never, never met,