So lost in thought she seems, the warrior’s feet
Unheard approach her solitary seat,
Till his known accents every sense restore—
“My own loved Zayda! do we meet once more?”
She starts, she turns—the lightning of surprise,
Of sudden rapture, flashes from her eyes;
But that is fleeting—it is past—and how
Far other meaning darkens o’er her brow:
Changed is her aspect, and her tone severe—
“Hence, Aben-Zurrah! death surrounds thee here!”