The English Merchant, &c. His English habits aside he flung, And he learn'd to speak with a Saracen tongue, For the sake of that damsel fair. He taught Zarina the Christian's lore; When together they trod the lonely shore, And she listen'd to him with a willing ear, And he gazed in her eyes, so deep and clear, By the light of the morning sky. They plighted their faith, and they vow'd to wed, If Gilbert should e'er be free; How could she doubt a word he said? For her heart was trustful, pure, and mild, Like the heart of a young unfearing child, And she loved him hopefully. But days stole on, and months stole on, A long, long year had come and gone, When the maiden wander'd with earnest eye To the shadowy walk 'neath the palm-trees high, Where oft before they met. "I am a Christian, my Gilbert, now," The Saracen lady said; The tone of her voice was sweet and low, Like the voice of the night-breeze, cool and calm, When it sighs through the leaves of the murmuring palm, Of its own light sounds afraid. "At eve and at morn to thy God I pray ; Oh, why should I linger here? Let us flee to thine England, far away; The God we serve shall guide our bark Over the desert of waters dark; For how can a Christian fear? Where is Zarina? A captive lone Till two long years are come and gone, And at last, when her ruthless gaolers slept, One eve of beauty, forth she crept To gaze from the lattice high. The wall was steep, yet she dared to leap- She hath wander'd down to the shore, Is a bark about to sail, With tapering masts that seem'd to bear, Upon their crests so slight and high, The outspread curtains of the sky, Hung o'er with star-lamps pale. Oft hath the maiden her lover heard, When he spake of his far-off home; Back to her lip returns the word, And "London! London!" in haste she cries, With a piteous tone and with streaming eyes, While the seamen around her come. |