As vengeance shall pursue;
And hate, like love in parting pain,
Smiles o’er one hope—we meet again!
To-morrow—and th’ avenger’s hand,
The warrior’s dart is free!
E’en now, no spot in all thy land,
Save this, had shelter’d thee;
Let blood the monarch’s hall profane,—
The Arab’s tent must bear no stain!
Fly! may the desert’s fiery blast