_Sa._ I would have done so. But thou didst hear the king refuse. He is sworn To grant no terms till Ceuta be restored. 320 Our law moreover doth forbid this traffic, To exchange our captives with the infidels. _Al._ But hast thou then thyself, Sala, no power To do them any kindness; or for me Wilt thou not grant them so much liberty As to walk in the garden once a day? If I might speak with them I might do somewhat To pay the debt we owe their general; And to speak truth, for my own sake I ask it. _Sa._ How for thy sake? _Al._ I wish to hear them sing. 330 _Sa._ How could that please? Who told thee that they sing? _Al._ ’Twas last night, Sala, as I lay long awake Dreamily hearkening to the ocean murmur, Softer than silence, on mine ears there stole A solemn sound of wailful harmony: So beautiful it was that first I thought This castle was enchanted, as I have read In eastern tales; or else that ’twas the song Of people of this land, who make the sea Their secret god, and at midnight arise 340 To kneel upon the shore, and his divinity Trouble with shrilling prayer: or then it seemed A liquid-voicèd choir of spirits that swam Upon the ocean surface, harp in hand, Swelling their hymns with his deep undersong. That was the Christian captives. _Sa._ ’Twas the night Softened their wails to sweetness: as the space ’Twixt hell and heaven makes the cries of the damned Music to the angels. _Al._ Sala, ’tis not the king, ’Tis thou art cruel; thou hast a heart of hate. 350 _Sa._ O nay, a heart of love. I would not count Dishonour, Almeh; I would be at peace With shame and infidels and all the world, Wouldst thou be mine. _Al._ Now, if my father heard thee! Thou dar’st much, thinking that I cannot tell: Which if I have never done, ’tis that I am loth To lose so old a friend; ’tis pain to see That as I am grown from childhood, thou art grown From friendship, and for loving me too much Must love me now no more. _Sa._ Ah! what is that? 360 A portrait in thy hand? Nay show it me. Why dost thou blush? Who is the happy one Thou carriest thus to gaze on? _Al._ Look and see. _Sa._ ’Tis Tarudante. O thou faithless Almeh, To speak of friendship who hast never told me Thou hast a lover. Now I see the cause Why thou art here. This boy.—’Tis a smooth cheek, A pretty picture. Ah! wert thou not shamed To slight me for a sprinkling of grey hair About my temples, thou wouldst never thus 370 Have hid thy passion. _Al._ Tho’thou hast stolen from me A privilege to love me, I deny thee The liberty to judge me and reprove. _Sa._ Ever, when thou hast bidden my love be dumb, My tongue hath been obedient: but my anger, My jealousy will speak. How gottest thou this?