Fear not, though the barley sack be empty,
Here’s the half of Hassan’s scanty bread.
Bend thy forehead now to take my kisses,
Lift in love thy dark and splendid eye.
Thou art glad when Hassan mounts the saddle,
Thou art proud he owns thee; so am I.
We have seen Damascus, O my beauty!
And the splendour of the pashas there;
What’s their pomp and riches? Why, I would not
Take them for a handful of thy hair!