Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 3.djvu/285

CANTO II.] I only marked the glorious Sun and sky,

Too bright—too blue—for my captivity;

And felt that all which Freedom's bosom cheers

Must break my chain before it dried my tears.

This mayst thou judge, at least, from my escape,

They little deem of aught in Peril's shape;

Else vainly had I prayed or sought the chance

That leads me here—if eyed with vigilance:

The careless guard that did not see me fly,

May watch as idly when thy power is nigh.

Pacha! my limbs are faint—and nature craves

Food for my hunger, rest from tossing waves:

Permit my absence—peace be with thee! Peace

With all around!—now grant repose—release."

"Stay, Dervise! I have more to question—stay,

I do command thee—sit—dost hear?—obey!

More I must ask, and food the slaves shall bring;

Thou shalt not pine where all are banqueting:

The supper done—prepare thee to reply,

Clearly and full—I love not mystery."

'Twere vain to guess what shook the pious man,

Who looked not lovingly on that Divan;

Nor showed high relish for the banquet prest,

And less respect for every fellow guest.

'Twas but a moment's peevish hectic passed

Along his cheek, and tranquillised as fast:

He sate him down in silence, and his look

Resumed the calmness which before forsook:

The feast was ushered in—but sumptuous fare

He shunned as if some poison mingled there.

For one so long condemned to toil and fast,

Methinks he strangely spares the rich repast.

"What ails thee, Dervise? eat—dost thou suppose