For thee in those bright isles is built a bower Aden, in its earliest hour Blooming as {-Eden--guarded like a tower-} A thousand swords--thy Selim's soul and hand Wait on thy voice, and bow to thy command pair No Danger daunts--the {-souls-} that Love hath blest steps still roving With {-feet long-wandering-}--but with hearts at rest. {-For thee my blade shall shine--my hand shall toil-} With thee all toils were sweet--each clime hath charms {line 934} Earth--sea--alike--one World within our arms {line 935} Girt by my hand--Zuleika at my side-- The Spoil of nations shall bedeck my bride slumbring The Haram's sluggish life of listless ease Is well exchanged for cares and joys like these {-Mine be the lot to know where'er I rove-} {-A thousand perils wait where-er I rove,-} Not blind to fate I view where-er I rove A thousand perils--but one only love-- Yet well my labor shall fond breast repay When Fortune frowns or falser friends betray How dear the thought in darkest hours of ill Should all be changed to find thee faithful still Be but thy soul like Selim's firmly shown {-mine in firmness-} {-Firm as my own I deem thy tender heart-} To thee be Selim's tender as thine own Exchange, or mingle every thought with his And all our future days unite in this. * * * * * Man I may lead--but trust not--I may fall By those now friends to me--yet foes to all-- In this they follow but the bent assigned fatal Nature By {-savage Nature-} to our warning kind _But there--oh, far be every thought of fear_ Life is but peril at the best--and here No more remains to win and much to fear Yes fear--the doubt the dread of losing thee-- That dread must vanish. FOOTNOTES: [ey] To the Right Hon^ble^ Henry Richard Vassal Lord Holland This Tale Is inscribed with Every sentiment of the Most affectionate respect by his gratefully obliged serv^t. And sincere Friend Byron. [_Proof and Revise._--See _Letters to Murray_, November 13, 17, 1813.] [124] {157} ["Murray tells me that Croker asked him why the thing was called the _Bride_ of Abydos? It is a cursed awkward question, being unanswerable. _She_ is not a _bride_, only about to become one. I don't wonder at his finding out the _Bull_; but the detection ... is too late to do any good. I was a great fool to make it, and am ashamed of not being an Irishman."--_Journal_, December 6, 1813; _Letters_, 1898, ii. 365.