'Tis gone—and in its place a false one shines,—
I ask for justice."
Brandishing aloft
His naked scimitar, the cadi cried,
"By Allah and his Prophet! guilt like this
Shall feel the avenger's stroke. Show me the wretch
Who robbed thy casket."
Then the appellant tore
The turban from his head, and cast it down;
"Lo! the false jewel see. And would'st thou know
Whose fraud exchanged it for my precious gem?
Thou art the man. My birth-right was the faith
Of Jesus Christ, which thou hast stolen away
With hollow words. Take back thy tinselled bait
And let me, sorrowing, seek my Saviour's fold.
Tempted I was, and madly have I fallen—
Oh, give me back my faith."
And there he stood,
The stately-born of Scio, in whose veins
Stirred the high blood of Greece. There was a pause,
A haughty lifting up of Turkish brows,
In wonder and in scorn; a hissing tone
Of wrath precursive, and a stern reply
"The faith of Moslem, or the sabre-stroke:
Choose thee, young Greek!"
Then rose his lofty form
In all its majesty, and his deep voice
