496 Dclur Amanliori. [May, 



As he was fair be3'ond all measure, he 

 Was paid into the satrap's treasur}' ; 

 For, — which to us appears an oddity, — 

 Beauty is there a saleable commodity ! 

 • In harems all's conducted with precision ; 



The last new-comers 'habit one division : 

 Proclus came next to me ; and so he 

 Was register'd as chum to Zoe ! 



I shall not strive — 'twere vain — to paint 



The tide of feelings, fast and faint, 



Which flow'd and ebb'd within my breast ! 



He — he was with me ; all the rest 



Was nothing ; he had come to free 



His bride betroth'd from slavery ! 



Where is the heart, whose pulses beat. 



Which cannot guess the throng of sweet 



And strong tumultuous thoughts, which rush'd 



Back to the heart, as though they gush'd 



Along with, in the blood ! Oh, no ! 



Athenians ! I'll not strive to shew 



In words, what words were always weak, 



And always will be so, to speak ! 



I now felt courage rise within me ; 



For I will now confess it, spite 



Of my light tone, I did not quite 

 Like the old satrap's wish to win me ; 

 For when such swains are our pursuers. 

 They are not very gentle wooers. 



Day waned apace — a moonless night, 

 Calm, but without a ray of light. 

 Set in : the satrap came alone ; 



He thought to find a tender chicken 



Just waiting for his highness' picking. 

 But the old lord was quickly shewn 

 That he was like to prove the martyr — 

 He found that he had caught — a Tartar ! 

 For Proclus seized him by the hair. 



And, drawing forth his dagger, said, 

 " Now, Persian villain, if you dare 



To breathe a single word, you're dead ! 

 Open for us the harem door — 

 Shew us the passage to the shore — 



Conduct us to a boat — 

 Ijcad on — and if you dare to speak, 

 Or utter sound, as I'm a Greek, 



You dog ! I'll cut your throat !" 

 The lamp flash'd on the naked blade; 

 The Persian lord was sore afraid ; 

 He saw he'd one to deal with, who 

 Wouldn't only threat, but do it too ! 

 Slowly he moved ; the poniard goad 

 Made him more quickly shew the road : 

 'Tis strange how soon the taste of steel 

 Can make the most unfeeling feel ! 

 And when the red and waning moon 



At midnight rose above the sea, 



Its earliest beam beheld us free. 



And the old lord in slavery ! 

 Tiie breeze blew merrily, ami soon 



