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By spells from ore and jewels, that shine In Afric's stream and Indian mine; And she, his dark-eyed guide, were queen Alone in the enchanted scene.

They past the columns, and they stood By the depths of a pitchy flood, Where silent, leaning on his oar, An Ethiop slave stood by the shore. "My faithful !" cried the maid, And then to gain the boat essay'd, Then paused, as in her heart afraid To trust that slight and fragile bark Upon a stream so fierce, so dark; Such sullen waves, the torch's glare Fell wholly unreflected there.