Then pledg'd we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore,

From

my home and my weeping friends never to part;

My little ones kiss'd me a thousand times o'er,

And my wife sobb'd aloud in her fulness of heart.

Stay, stay with us-rest, thou art weary

and worn;

And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay

But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn,

And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.

THE TURKISH LADY.

'Twas the hour when rites unholy

Call'd each Paynim voice to pray'r,

And the star that faded slowly

Left to dews the freshen'd air.

Day her sultry fires had wasted,

Calm and sweet the moonlight rose:

Ev'n a captive's spirit tasted

Half oblivion of his woes.

Then 'twas from an Emir's palace
Came an eastern lady bright:

She, in spite of tyrants jealous,

Saw and lov'd an English knight.

Tell me, captive, why in anguish

"Foes have dragg'd thee here to dwell,

'Where poor Christians as they languish

'Hear no sound of sabbath bell?'

"'Twas on Transylvania's Bannat

"When the crescent shone afar,

'Like a pale disastrous planet

'O'er the purple tide of war

In that day of desolation,

'Lady, I was captive made;

'Bleeding for my Christian nation

'By the walls of high Belgrade.'

'Captive! could the brightest jewel

'From my turban set thee free?'

'Lady, no!-the gift were cruel,

'Ransom'd, yet if reft of thee.

'Christian climes should we behold?'

"Nay, bold knight! I would not leave thee 'Were thy ransom paid in gold!'