IV.
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Son of a slave"--the Pacha said--"From unbelieving mother bred,Vain were a father's hope to seeAught that beseems a man in thee.Thou, when thine arm should bend the bow,And hurl the dart, and curb the steed,Thou, Greek in soul if not in creed,Must pore where babbling waters flow,[fe]And watch unfolding roses blow.Would that yon Orb, whose matin glow 90Thy listless eyes so much admire,Would lend thee something of his fire!Thou, who woulds't see this battlementBy Christian cannon piecemeal rent;Nay, tamely view old Stambol's wallBefore the dogs of Moscow fall,Nor strike one stroke for life and deathAgainst the curs of Nazareth!Go--let thy less than woman's handAssume the distaff--not the brand. 100But, Haroun!--to my daughter speed:And hark--of thine own head take heed--If thus Zuleika oft takes wing--Thou see'st yon bow--it hath a string!"
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