Page:Poetical Remains.pdf/164

132

Vicissitudes in all things, but the most In human hearts. Oh! yet a while tame down That royal spirit, till the hour be come When it may burst its bondage! On thy brow The suns of burning climes have set their seal, And toil, and years, and perils, have not passed O'er the bright aspect, and the ardent eye As doth a breeze of summer. Be that change The mask beneath whose shelter thou may'st read Men's thoughts, and veil thine own.

Sebast.Am I thus changed From all I was? And yet it needs must be, Since e'en my soul hath caught another hue From its long sufferings. Did I not array The gallant flower of Lusian chivalry, And lead the mighty of the land, to pour Destruction on the Moslem? I return, And as a fearless and a trusted friend, Bring, from the realms of my captivity, An arab of the desert!—But the sun