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Zayda! wilt thou his stern accuser be? False to his country, he is true to thee! Oh, hear me yet!—if Hamet e'er was dear, By our first vows, our young affection, hear! Soon must this fair and royal city fall, Soon shall the cross be planted on her wall; Then who can tell what tides of blood may flow, While her fanes echo to the shrieks of woe? Fly, fly with me, and let me bear thee far From horrors thronging in the path of war: Fly! and repose in safety—till the blast Hath made a desert in its course—and past!"

"Thou that wilt triumph when the hour is come, Hasten’d by thee, to seal thy country's doom, With thee from scenes of death shall Zayda fly To peace and safety?—Woman too can die! And die exulting, though unknown to fame, In all the stainless beauty of her name! Be mine unmurmuring, undismay'd to share The fate my kindred and my sire must bear. And deem thou not my feeble heart shall fail, When the clouds gather, and the blasts assail;