VII.

Love toned he spoke, "Fair sister, [FN#17] art thou here
With pensive looks, so near thy bridal bed,
Fixed on the pale cold moon? Nay! do not fear--
To do thee weal o'er mount and stream I've sped.

[FN#17] Sister, was an affectionate appellation, used by the Jews
towards all women.

XLVIII.

"Say, doth thy soul in all its sweet excess
Rush to this bridegroom, smooth and falsehood-taught.
Ah, now! thou yield'st thee to a loathed caress--
While thy heart tells thee loud it owns him not.

XLIX.

"Hadst thou but seen, on Tigris' banks, this morn
Wasting her wild complaints, a wretched maid,
Stung with her wrongs--lone--beauty-reft--forlorn--
And learned 'twas ev'n thy Meles who betrayed,

"Well hadst thou then shrunk to return his love
But wherefore now, on theme of sorrow bide?--
What would thy beauty? here I wait--nay, prove
A spirit's power, nor be my boon denied!

"I'll tell thee secrets of the neither earth
And highest heaven--or dost some service crave?
Declare thy bidding, best of mortal birth,
I'll be thy winged messenger, thy slave." (7)

L.

Then softly Egla, "Lovely being tell--
In pity to the grief thy lips betray
The knowledge of--say with some kindly spell
Dost come from heaven, to charm my pains away?

"Alas! what know'st thou of my plighted lord?
If guilt pollute him, as unless mine ear
Deceive me in the purport of thy word,
Thou mean'st t' imply--kind spirit rest not here

"But to my father hasten and make known
The fearful truth: my doom is his command;
Writ in heaven's book, I guard the oath I've sworn
Unless he will to blot it by thine hand."

LI.

"Thy plight to Meles little need avail."
Zophiel replies: "ere morn, if't be thy will
To Lybian deserts he shall howl his tale
I'll hurl him, at thy word, o'er forest, sea and hill.

LII.

"By all the frauds, which forged in his black breast,
Come forth so white and silvery from his tongue,
My potency he soon shall prove; nor rest
To banquet on the blood of hearts by him unstrung,

"And reft of all their music. Every pain
By him inflicted for his own vile joys
Rend his vile self! fruition not again
Shall crown such arts as now the slave employs!

"But sooth thee, maiden, be thy soul at peace;
Mine be the care to hasten to thy sire
And null thy vow: let every terror cease:
Perfect success attends thy least desire."

LIII.

Then lowly bending with seraphic grace
The vase he proffered full; and not a