"I loved her, Friar! nay, adored-- But these are words that all can use-- 1030 I proved it more in deed than word; There's blood upon that dinted sword, A stain its steel can never lose: 'Twas shed for her, who died for me, It warmed the heart of one abhorred: Nay, start not--no--nor bend thy knee, Nor midst my sin such act record; Thou wilt absolve me from the deed, For he was hostile to thy creed! The very name of Nazarene 1040 Was wormwood to his Paynim spleen. Ungrateful fool! since but for brands Well wielded in some hardy hands, And wounds by Galileans given-- The surest pass to Turkish heaven-- For him his Houris still might wait Impatient at the Prophet's gate. I loved her--Love will find its way Through paths where wolves would fear to prey; And if it dares enough,'twere hard 1050 If Passion met not some reward-- No matter how, or where, or why, I did not vainly seek, nor sigh: Yet sometimes, with remorse, in vain I wish she had not loved again. She died--I dare not tell thee how; But look--'tis written on my brow! There read of Cain the curse and crime, In characters unworn by Time: Still, ere thou dost condemn me, pause; 1060 Not mine the act, though I the cause. Yet did he but what I had done Had she been false to more than one. Faithless to him--he gave the blow; But true to me--I laid him low: Howe'er deserved her doom might be, Her treachery was truth to me; To me she gave her heart, that all Which Tyranny can ne'er enthrall; And I, alas! too late to save! 1070 Yet all I then could give, I gave-- 'Twas some relief--our foe a grave.[ed] His death sits lightly; but her fate Has made me--what thou well mayst hate. His doom was sealed--he knew it well, Warned by the voice of stern Taheer, Deep in whose darkly boding ear[117] The deathshot pealed of murder near, As filed the troop to where they fell! He died too in the battle broil, 1080 A time that heeds nor pain nor toil; One cry to Mahomet for aid, One prayer to Alla all he made: He knew and crossed me in the fray-- I gazed upon him where he lay, And watched his spirit ebb away: Though pierced like pard by hunter's steel, He felt not half that now I feel. I searched, but vainly searched, to find The workings of a wounded mind; 1090 Each feature of that sullen corse Betrayed his rage, but no remorse.[118] Oh, what had Vengeance given to trace