wiftly glides and gently swells
Between the winding Dardanelles;
But yet he saw nor sea nor strand,
Nor even his Pacha's turbaned band
Mix in the game of mimic slaughter,
Careering cleave the folded felt[142]
With sabre stroke right sharply dealt;
Nor marked the javelin-darting crowd, 250
Nor heard their Ollahs[143] wild and loud--
He thought but of old Giaffir's daughter!

X.

No word from Selim's bosom broke;
One sigh Zuleika's thought bespoke:
Still gazed he through the lattice grate,
Pale, mute, and mournfully sedate.
To him Zuleika's eye was turned,
But little from his aspect learned:
Equal her grief, yet not the same;
Her heart confessed a gentler flame:[fp] 260
But yet that heart, alarmed or weak,
She knew not why, forbade to speak.
Yet speak she must--but when essay?
"How strange he thus should turn away!
Not thus we e'er before have met;
Not thus shall be our parting yet."
Thrice paced she slowly through the room,
And watched his eye--it still was fixed:
She snatched the urn wherein was mixed
The Persian Atar-gul's perfume,[144] 270
And sprinkled all its odours o'er
The pictured roof[145] and marble floor:
The drops, that through his glittering vest[fq]
The playful girl's appeal addressed,
Unheeded o'er his bosom flew,
As if that breast were marble too.
"What, sullen yet? it must not be--
Oh! gentle Selim, this from thee!"
She saw in curious order set
The fairest flowers of Eastern land-- 280
"He loved them once; may touch them yet,
If offered by Zuleika's hand."
The childish thought was hardly breathed
Before the rose was plucked and wreathed;
The next fond moment saw her seat
Her fairy form at Selim's feet:
"This rose to calm my brother's cares
A message from the Bulbul[146] bears;
It says to-night he will prolong
For Selim's ear his sweetest song; 290
And though his note is somewhat sad,
He'll try for once a strain more glad,
With some faint hope his altered lay
May sing these gloomy thoughts away.

XI.

"What! not receive my foolish flower?
Nay then I am indeed unblest: