Then the Chief laid his pale lips upon the little palm,
And sank down with a smile of love, his face all glad and calm;
And through the cage-bars Neila felt the brave heart stop fast,
"O Soorj!"—she cried—"I follow! have patience to the last."
She turned and went. "Who passes?" challenged the Mussulman;
"A Nautch-girl, I."—"What seek'st thou?"—"The presence of the Khan;"
"Ask if the high chief-captain be pleased to hear me sing;"
And Shureef, full of feasting, the Kunchenee bade bring.
Then, all before the Muslims, aflame with lawless wine,
Entered the Ranee Neila, in grace and face divine;
And all before the Muslims, wagging their goatish chins,
The Rajpoot Princess set her to the "bee-dance" that begins,
"If my love loved me, he should be a bee,
I the yellow champâk, love the honey of me."
All the wreathed movements danced she of that dance;
Not a step she slighted, not a wanton glance;
In her unveiled bosom chased th' intruding bee,
To her waist—and lower—she! a Rajpoot, she!
Sang the melting music, swayed the languorous limb:
Shureef's drunken heart beat—Shureef's eyes waxed dim.