And sprang the teardrop from his eye;
’Twas hard to part from Selim there,
Where all was woe, and blank despair.
XXIII.
’Tis sad to see proud manhood lie
As weak as helpless infancy!
Not one in all that caravan
With stronger heart their march began,
Than he, whose long drawn, gasping breath
Was wavering ’twixt life and death.