Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 3.djvu/195

I would not trust that look or tone: 140
No—nor the blood so near my own.^{[lower-roman 1]}
That blood—he hath not heard—no more—
I'll watch him closer than before.
He is an Arab^{[decimal 1]} to my sight,
Or Christian crouching in the fight—^{[lower-roman 2]}
But hark!—I hear Zuleika's voice;
Like Houris' hymn it meets mine ear:
She is the offspring of my choice;
Oh! more than ev'n her mother dear,
With all to hope, and nought to fear— 150
My Peri! ever welcome here!^{[lower-roman 3]}
Sweet, as the desert fountain's wave
To lips just cooled in time to save—
Such to my longing sight art thou;
Nor can they waft to Mecca's shrine
More thanks for life, than I for thine,
Who blest thy birth and bless thee now."^{[lower-roman 4]}

VI.
Fair, as the first that fell of womankind,
When on that dread yet lovely serpent smiling,
Whose Image then was stamped upon her mind— 160
But once beguiled—and ever more beguiling;
Dazzling, as that, oh! too transcendent vision
To Sorrow's phantom-peopled slumber given,
When heart meets heart again in dreams Elysian,
And paints the lost on Earth revived in Heaven;
Soft, as the memory of buried love;

Variants

1. No—nor the blood I call my own.—[MS.]
2. Or Christian flying from the fight.—[MS.]
3. Zuleika! ever welcome here.—[MS.]
4. Who never was more blest than now.—[MS.]

Notes

1. The Turks abhor the Arabs (who return the compliment a hundredfold) even more than they hate the Christians.