Page:Poetical Remains.pdf/161

Rh

The dreams of rest were on me, and I lay Shrouded in slumber's mantle, as within The chambers of the dead. Who saved me then, When the Pard, soundless as the midnight, stole Soft on the sleeper? Whose keen dart transfixed The monarch of the solitudes? I woke, And saw thy javelin crimsoned with his blood, Thou, my deliverer! and my heart e'en then Called thee its brother.

Sebast.For that gift of life With one of tenfold price, even freedom's self, Thou hast repaid me well.

Zamor.Then bid me not Forsake thee! Though my father's tents may rise At times upon my spirit, yet my home Shall be amidst thy mountains, Prince, and thou Shalt be my chief, until I see thee robed With all thy power. When thou canst need no more Thine Arab's faithful heart and vigorous arm, From the green regions of the setting sun