Let us change the scene, and introduce once more the fair lady of our tale, whom we have already too long neglected. Throughout the day all had been bustle and preparation in the house of her father. The halls had been richly hung with tapestry, and put in readiness for the giddy dance; the tables were loaded with the choicest productions of that fruitful clime for the marriage banquet. Zareda had been all gayety and happiness; but towards evening she appeared more thoughtful, and her accustomed laugh and words of mirth were no longer heard. She expected to have seen him ere this, and to have met that embrace, which would crown all her love. An hour passed away, yet still he came not:--her watchfulness was fast verging to anxiety. Another long half hour is gone--in gloomy sadness she sat herself down ’neath the arcade, where they had so often met together. ‘Why comes he not?--has any mischief befallen him?--has he fallen into the hands of any marauding company of the enemy? has he--can it be, that he has deserted me?--away, ungrateful thought! it cannot be; some accident surely has overtaken him.’ As these, and various like reflections, were passing in her mind, a song of plaintive melancholy fell softly on her ear. The rainbow’s brightest tint Soonest fades away; The tenderest floweret’s bloom Quickest meets decay. The first bright rose of spring, That exhales its morning breath, Returning dews of even Strike with the chill of death. So I, my love, must soon Ne’er meet with thee again,-- Our marriage tie is changed To slavery’s cruel chain. Thy ruby cheek will fade, Tears dim thine eye of blue, For I, my love, must bid A long, a last adieu. So deeply melancholy was the strain--so much in unison with her own increasing fears, that Zareda recognized not the cheerful voice of her Muza, till the song was finished, and he himself stood before her. ‘Muza, is it thou?--thanks to Allah! now will we indeed be happy. But why so late? Is this the eagerness with which to meet thy bride?--or why didst thou fright me with that gloomy song?’ ‘Zareda, I am a prisoner; perhaps a slave--two hours ago I fell into the hands of the enemy, and I am now to behold thee for the last time.’ ‘A prisoner! how so, even if thou hast been with the enemy, since thou now standest here free before me? Thy bonds are loose for a Christian’s hands to inflict. Oh Allah! hast thou too proved faithless to thy country! art thou a--’ ‘Traitor! and from thee! Zareda, hear me: accuse me not of faithlessness either to thee or to my country. Though I am now before thee, still am I no less a prisoner; I must return before to-morrow’s sun--my word is pledged. Then doubt me not, but take my last farewell. Would that I might see _thee_ happy; then would I be content.’