In every quiv'ring of my spear A sympathetic sigh I hear; The camel bending with his load, And struggling thro' the thorny road, 'Midst the fatigues that bear him down, In Hassan's woes forgets his own; Yet cruel friends my wanderings chide, My sufferings slight, my toils deride.
Once wealth, I own, engrossed each thought, There was a moment when I sought The glitt'ring stores Ambition claims To feed the wants his fancy frames; But now 'tis past--the changing day Has snatch'd my high-built hopes away, And bade this wish my labors close-- Give me not riches, but repose. 'Tis he--that mien my friend declares, That stature, like the lance he bears; I see that breast which ne'er contain'd A thought by fear or folly stain'd, Whose powers can every change obey, In business grave, in trifles gay, And, form'd each varying taste to please, Can mingle dignity with ease.
What, tho' with magic influence, sleep, O'er every closing eyelid creep: Tho' drunk with its oblivious wine Our comrades on their bales recline, My Selim's trance I sure can break-- Selim, 'tis I, 'tis I who speak. Dangers on every side impend, And sleep'st thou, careless of thy friend? Thou sleep'st while every star on high, Beholds me with a wakeful eye-- Thou changest, ere the changeful night Hath streak'd her fleeting robe with white.
'Tis love that hurries me along-- I'm deaf to fear's repressive song-- The rocks of Idham I'll ascend, Tho' adverse darts each path defend, And hostile sabres glitter there, To guard the tresses of the fair.
Come, Selim, let us pierce the grove, While night befriends, to seek my love. The clouds of fragrance as they rise Shall mark the place where Abla lies. Around her tent my jealous foes, Like lions, spread their watchful rows; Amidst their bands, her bow'r appears Embosom'd in a wood of spears-- A wood still nourish'd by the dews, Which smiles, and softest looks diffuse. Thrice happy youths! who midst yon shades Sweet converse hold with Idham's maids, What bliss, to view them gild the hours, And brighten wit and fancy's powers, While every foible they disclose New transport gives, new graces shows. 'Tis theirs to raise with conscious art The flames of love in every heart; 'Tis yours to raise with festive glee The flames of hospitality: Smit by their glances lovers lie, And helpless sink and hopeless die; While slain by you the stately steed To crown the feast, is doom'd to bleed, To crown the feast, where copious flows The sparkling juice that soothes your woes, That lulls each care and heals each wound, As the enlivening bowl goes round. Amidst those vales my eager feet Shall trace my Abla's dear retreat, A gale of health may hover there, To breathe some solace to my care. I fear not love--I bless the dart Sent in a glance to pierce the heart: With willing breast the sword I hail That wounds me thro' an half-clos'd veil: Tho' lions howling round the shade, My footsteps haunt, my walks invade, No fears shall drive me from the grove, If Abla listen to my love.