Page:Works of Voltaire Volume 16.djvu/36



Or reason’s powerful voice, I cannot bear To see her in the hands of Mahomet; Would I could mould her to my wishes, form Her willing mind, and make her hate the tyrant As I do! She has sent to speak with me Here in the sacred porch and lo! she comes: On her fair cheek the blush of modesty And candor speaks the virtues of her heart.

Hail, lovely maid! the chance of cruel war Hath made thee Zopir’s captive, but thou art not Amongst barbarians; all with me revere Palmira’s virtues, and lament her fate, Whilst youth with innocence and beauty plead Thy cause; whatever thou askest in Zopir’s power, Thou shalt not ask in vain: my life declines Towards its period, and if my last hours Can give Palmira joy, I shall esteem them The best, the happiest I have ever known.

These two months past, my lord, your prisoner here, Scarce have I felt the yoke of slavery; Your generous hand, still raised to soothe affliction, Hath wiped the tears of sorrow from my eyes, And softened all the rigor of my fate: Forgive me, if emboldened by your goodness I ask for more, and centre every hope Of future happiness on you alone; Forgive me, if to Mahomet’s request