Page:Lalla Rookh - Moore - 1817.djvu/29



The pomp is at an end--the crowds are gone-- Each ear and heart still haunted by the tone Of that deep voice, which thrilled like ALLA'S own! The Young all dazzled by the plumes and lances, The glittering throne and Haram's half-caught glances, The Old deep pondering on the promised reign Of peace and truth, and all the female train Ready to risk their eyes could they but gaze A moment on that brow's miraculous blaze!

But there was one among the chosen maids Who blushed behind the gallery's silken shades, One, to whose soul the pageant of to-day Has been like death:--you saw her pale dismay, Ye wondering sisterhood, and heard the burst Of exclamation from her lips when first She saw that youth, too well, too dearly known, Silently kneeling at the Prophet's throne.

Ah ZELICA! there was a time when bliss Shone o'er thy heart from every look of his, When but to see him, hear him, breathe the air In which he dwelt was thy soul's fondest prayer;