Ibrahim, then, is come from the camp!
So she fancies, and, in her despair,
Thinks she will scale the turret-stair,
And dash herself down from the castle-wall,
When, lo! her two little daughters call—
“It isn’t our father, mother dear!
This is our uncle, Djaffar-al-Meer.”
Turning around, the weeping mother
Flings her arms about her brother—
“Oh, brother! that this black day should arrive!