Well, though it sound A thing but natural and common-place That you should by a Templar have been saved, Is it the less a miracle for that? The greatest of all miracles seems this: That real wonders, genuine miracles, Can seem and grow so commonplace to us. Without this universal miracle, Those others would scarce strike a thinking man, Awaking wonder but in children's minds, Who love to stare at strange, unusual things, And hunt for novelty.
Why will you thus With airy subtleties perplex her mind, Already overheated?
Silence, Daja! And was it then no miracle that Recha Should be indebted for her life to one Whom no small miracle preserved himself? Who ever heard before, that Saladin Pardoned a Templar? that a Templar asked it-- Hoped it--or for his ransom offered more Than his own sword--belt, or at most his dagger?
That argues for me, father! All this proves That my preserver was no Templar knight, But only seemed so. If no captive Templar Has e'er come hither but to meet his death, And through Jerus'lem cannot wander free, How could I find one, in the night, to save me?
Ingenious, truly! Daja, you must speak. Doubtless, you know still more about this knight; For 'twas from you I learnt he was a prisoner.
'Tis but report indeed, but it is said That Saladin gave freedom to the knight, Moved by the likeness which his features bore To a lost brother whom he dearly loved, Though since his disappearance twenty years Have now elapsed. He fell I know not where, And e'en his very name's a mystery. But the whole tale sounds so incredible, It may be mere invention, pure romance.
And why incredible? Would you reject This story, Daja, as so oft is done, To fix on something more incredible, And credit that? Why should not Saladin, To whom his race are all so dear, have loved In early youth a brother now no more? Since when have features ceased to be alike? Is an impression lost because 'tis old? Will the same cause not work a like effect? What, then, is so incredible? My Daja, This can to you be no great miracle; Or does a wonder only claim belief When it proceeds from you?
Nay, 'tis the very tone you use yourself. And yet, dear Recha, your escape from death Remains no less a miracle Of Him who turns the proud resolves of kings To mockery, or guides them to their end By the most slender threads.