THE ADMIRAL'S FAREWELL
The royal fleet with fluttering sail is waiting in the bay;
And brave Mustapha, the Admiral, must start at break of day.
His hood and cloak of many hues he swiftly dons, and sets
Upon his brow his turban gay with pearls and amulets;
Of many tints above his head his plumes are waving wide;
Like a crescent moon his scimitar is dangling at his side;
And standing at the window, he gazes forth, and, hark!
Across the rippling waters floats the summons to embark.