Читать книгу Ismael; an oriental tale. With other poems онлайн

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And Selyma, awak’ning from her trance,

Sent all her soul to his in one fond glance.

“Ah, dost thou leave me, still, alas! unkind,

“Must Ismael go, and I remain behind?180

“Perhaps some arm, amid the bloody strife,

“May rear the blade against thy valued life;—

“Oh, let me go with thee!—thine arm, my shield,

“Oh, let me share the perils of the field!

“What though I fall, what death can be so dear,

“To cast my dying eyes around, and see thee near.”

High Ismael clasp’d the mourner to his breast,

And dried the falling torrents in his vest;

E’en though inur’d to war, to toil, to pain,

Though wont to gaze, unmoved, at heaps of slain,190

Yet, as he view’d the anguish of the maid,

Adown his cheek the pitying tear-drop stray’d.

‘Farewell, another sun perchance may see,

‘Thine Ismael return to love, and thee.

‘How could that form of beauty learn to bear

‘The din of camps, the toils of blood and war!

‘Unman me not with this thy pleading wo—

‘Think, O my love, that Honour bids me go;