But does she dream? has Fear again
Perplext the workings of her brain,
Or did a voice, all music, then
Come from the gloom, low whispering near--
"Tremble not, love, thy Gheber's here?"
She _does_ not dream--all sense, all ear,
She drinks the words, "Thy Gheber's here."
'Twas his own voice--she could not err--
Throughout the breathing world's extent
There was but _one_ such voice for her,
So kind, so soft, so eloquent!
Oh, sooner shall the rose of May
Mistake her own sweet nightingale,
And to some meaner minstrel's lay
Open her bosom's glowing veil,[254]
Than Love shall ever doubt a tone,
A breath of the beloved one!
Though blest mid all her ills to think
She has that one beloved near,
Whose smile tho' met on ruin's brink
Hath power to make even ruin dear,--
Yet soon this gleam of rapture crost
By fears for him is chilled and lost.
How shall the ruthless HAFED brook
That one of Gheber blood should look,
With aught but curses in his eye,
On her--a maid of ARABY--
A Moslem maid--the child of him,
Whose bloody banners' dire success
Hath left their altars cold and dim,
And their fair land a wilderness!
And worse than all that night of blood
Which comes so fast--Oh! who shall stay
The sword, that once hath tasted food
Of Persian hearts or turn its way?
What arm shall then the victim cover,
Or from her father shield her lover?
"Save him, my God!" she inly cries--
"Save him this night--and if thine eyes
"Have ever welcomed with delight
"The sinner's tears, the sacrifice
"Of sinners' hearts--guard him this night,
"And here before thy throne I swear
"From my heart's inmost core to tear
"Love, hope, remembrance, tho' they be
"Linkt with each quivering life-string there,
"And give it bleeding all to Thee!
"Let him but live,--the burning tear,
"The sighs, so sinful, yet so dear,
"Which have been all too much his own,
"Shall from this hour be Heaven's alone.
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