And drawing back, held forth her bloody hands, ...
’Tis Moorish!... In the day of massacre,
A captain of Alcahman’s murderous host
Reserved me from the slaughter. Not because
My rank and station tempted him with thoughts
Of ransom, for amid the general waste
Of ruin all was lost; ... Nor yet, be sure,
That pity moved him, ... they who from this race
Accurst for pity look, such pity find
As ravenous wolves shew the defenceless flock.