Yet has she hearts, mid all this ill,
O'er all this wreck high buoyant still
With hope and vengeance;--hearts that yet--
Like gems, in darkness, issuing rays
They've treasured from the sun that's set,--
Beam all the light of long-lost days!
And swords she hath, nor weak nor slow
To second all such hearts can dare:
As he shall know, well, dearly know.
Who sleeps in moonlight luxury there,
Tranquil as if his spirit lay
Becalmed in Heaven's approving ray.
Sleep on--for purer eyes than thine
Those waves are husht, those planets shine;
Sleep on and be thy rest unmoved
By the white moonbeam's dazzling power;--
None but the loving and the loved
Should be awake at this sweet hour.
And see--where high above those rocks
That o'er the deep their shadows fling.
Yon turret stands;--where ebon locks,
As glossy as the heron's wing
Upon the turban of a king,[199]
Hang from the lattice, long and wild,--
'Tis she, that EMIR'S blooming child,
All truth and tenderness and grace,
Tho' born of such ungentle race;--
An image of Youth's radiant Fountain
Springing in a desolate mountain![200]
Oh what a pure and sacred thing
Is Beauty curtained from the sight
Of the gross world, illumining
One only mansion with her light!
Unseen by man's disturbing eye,--
The flower that blooms beneath the sea,
Too deep for sunbeams, doth not lie
Hid in more chaste obscurity.
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