And bathe his pallid, deathlike face;
And now he heaves a deep drawn sigh,
And gazes round with languid eye.
XLIII.
“Young Selim! there is water near!
O, list thee now, and thou wilt hear
The murm’ring of a blessed stream;
Cheer up! it is no fev’rish dream!
See nature’s best restorative!
Poor fainting Selim! drink and live!”