Beneath his stately master, with a stately step and slow;
Then rise, oh, rise, Xarifa, lay the golden cushion down;
Unseen here through the lattice, you may gaze with all the town."
The Zegri lady rose not, nor laid her cushion down,
Nor came she to the window to gaze with all the town;
But though her eyes dwelt on her knee, in vain her fingers strove,
And though her needle pressed the silk, no flower Xarifa wove;
One bonny rose-bud she had traced, before the noise drew nigh--
That bonny bud a tear effaced, slow drooping from her eye.
"No--no," she sighs--"bid me not rise, nor lay my cushion down,