Poem XII

He lived--he breathed--he moved--he felt;He raised the maid from where she knelt;His trance was gone, his keen eye shoneWith thoughts that long in darkness dwelt;With thoughts that burn--in rays that melt.As the stream late concealedBy the fringe of its willows,When it rushes reveal'dIn the light of its billows;As the bolt bursts on highFrom the black cloud that bound it,Flashed the soul of that eyeThrough the long lashes round it.A war-horse at the trumpet's sound,A lion roused by heedless hound,A tyrant waked to sudden strifeBy graze of ill-directed knife,fvStarts not to more convulsive lifeThan he, who heard that vow, displayed,And all, before repressed, betrayed:"Now thou art mine, for ever mine,With life to keep, and scarce with life resign;fwNow thou art mine, that sacred oath,Though sworn by one, hath bound us both.Yes, fondly, wisely hast thou done;That vow hath saved more heads than one:But blench not thou--thy simplest tressClaims more from me than tenderness;I would not wrong the slenderest hairThat clusters round thy forehead fair,fxFor all the treasures buried farWithin the caves of Istakar.This morning clouds upon me lowered,Reproaches on my head were showered,And Giaffir almost called me coward!Now I have motive to be brave;The son of his neglected slave,Nay, start not,'twas the term he gave,May show, though little apt to vaunt,A heart his words nor deeds can daunt.His son, indeed!--yet, thanks to thee,Perchance I am, at least shall be;But let our plighted secret vowBe only known to us as now.I know the wretch who dares demandFrom Giaffir thy reluctant hand;More ill-got wealth, a meaner soulHolds not a Musselim's control;Was he not bred in Egripo?A viler race let Israel show!But let that pass--to none be toldOur oath; the rest shall time unfold.To me and mine leave Osman Bey!I've partisans for Peril's day:Think not I am what I appear;I've arms--and friends--and vengeance near."