LI.
"Thy plight to Meles little need avail."
Zophiel replies: "ere morn, if't be thy will
To Lybian deserts he shall howl his tale
I'll hurl him, at thy word, o'er forest, sea and hill.
LII.
"By all the frauds, which forged in his black breast,
Come forth so white and silvery from his tongue,
My potency he soon shall prove; nor rest
To banquet on the blood of hearts by him unstrung,
"And reft of all their music. Every pain
By him inflicted for his own vile joys
Rend his vile self! fruition not again
Shall crown such arts as now the slave employs!
"But sooth thee, maiden, be thy soul at peace;
Mine be the care to hasten to thy sire
And null thy vow: let every terror cease:
Perfect success attends thy least desire."
LIII.
Then lowly bending with seraphic grace
The vase he proffered full; and not a gem
Drawn forth successive from its sparkling place
But put to shame the Persian diadem.
LIV.
While he "Nay, let me o'er thy white arms bind
These orient pearls less smooth; Egla, for thee,
My thrilling substance pained by storm and wind,
I sought them mid the caverns of the sea.