THE TURKISH LADY.
’Twas the hour when rites unholy
Called each Paynim voice to prayer,
And the star that faded slowly
Left to dews the freshened air.
Day her sultry fires had wasted,
Calm and sweet the moonlight rose;
E’en a captive spirit tasted
Half oblivion of his woes.
Then ’twas from an Emir’s palace
Came an Eastern lady bright:
She, in spite of tyrants jealous,
Saw and loved an English knight.
“Tell me, captive, why in anguish
Foes have dragged thee here to dwell,
Where poor Christians as they languish
Hear no sound of Sabbath bell?”
“’Twas on Transylvania’s Bannat,
When the Crescent shone afar,
Like a pale disastrous planet
O’er the purple tide of war—
“In that day of desolation,
Lady, I was captive made;
Bleeding for my Christian nation
By the walls of high Belgrade.”
“Captive! could the brightest jewel
From my turban set thee free?”
“Lady no!—the gift were cruel,
Ransomed, yet if reft of thee.”
“Say, fair princess! would it grieve thee
Christian climes should we behold?”
“Nay, bold knight! I would not leave thee
Were thy ransom paid in gold!”
Now in heaven’s blue expansion
Rose the midnight star to view,
When to quit her father’s mansion
Thrice she wept, and bade adieu!
“Fly we then, while none discover!
Tyrant barks, in vain ye ride!”
Soon at Rhodes the British lover
Clasped his blooming Eastern bride.