Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 3.djvu/283

CANTO II.] While dance the Almas to wild minstrelsy.

The rising morn will view the chiefs embark;

But waves are somewhat treacherous in the dark:

And revellers may more securely sleep

On silken couch than o'er the rugged deep:

Feast there who can—nor combat till they must,

And less to conquest than to Korans trust;

And yet the numbers crowded in his host

Might warrant more than even the Pacha's boast.

III. With cautious reverence from the outer gate

Slow stalks the slave, whose office there to wait,

Bows his bent head—his hand salutes the floor,

Ere yet his tongue the trusted tidings bore:

"A captive Dervise, from the Pirate's nest

Escaped, is here—himself would tell the rest."

He took the sign from Seyd's assenting eye,

And led the holy man in silence nigh.

His arms were folded on his dark-green vest,

His step was feeble, and his look deprest;

Yet worn he seemed of hardship more than years,

And pale his cheek with penance, not from fears.

Vowed to his God—his sable locks he wore,

And these his lofty cap rose proudly o'er: