Our sands are bare, but down their slope
The silvery-footed antelope
As gracefully and gayly springs
As o'er the marble courts of kings.
Then come—thy Arab maid will be
The loved and lone acacia-tree.
The antelope whose feet shall bless
With their light sound thy loneliness.
Oh! there are looks and tones that dart
An instant sunshine thro' the heart,—
As if the soul that minute caught
Some treasure it thro' life had sought;
As if the very lips and eyes,
Predestined to have all our sighs
And never be forgot again,
Sparkled and spoke before us then!
So came thy every glance and tone,
When first on me they breathed and shone,
New as if brought from other spheres
Yet welcome as if loved for years.
Then fly with me,—if thou hast known
No other flame nor falsely thrown
A gem away, that thou hadst sworn
Should ever in thy heart be worn.
Come if the love thou hast for me
Is pure and fresh as mine for thee,—
Fresh as the fountain under ground,
When first 'tis by the lapwing found.[340]
But if for me thou dost forsake
Some other maid and rudely break
Her worshipt image from its base,
To give to me the ruined place;—
Then fare thee well—I'd rather make
My bower upon some icy lake
When thawing suns begin to shine
Than trust to love so false as thine.
There was a pathos in this lay,
That, even without enchantment's art,
Would instantly have found its way
Deep in to SELIM'S burning heart;
But breathing as it did a tone
To earthly lutes and lips unknown;
With every chord fresh from the touch
Of Music's Spirit,—'twas too much!
Starting he dasht away the cup,—
Which all the time of this sweet air
His hand had held, untasted, up,
As if 'twere fixt by magic there—
And naming her, so long unnamed,
So long unseen, wildly exclaimed,
"Oh NOURMAHAL! oh NOURMAHAL!
"Hadst thou but sung this witching strain,
"I could forget—forgive thee all
"And never leave those eyes again."