As o'er the waters shoot her trembling rays;
'Tis sweet at star-lit hour to hear the breeze
Waking o'er pebbles its rich melodies,
Like a young minstrel with his tuneful art
Singing to soften the unfeeling heart.
But oh! to gaze upon the love-lit eye,
To feel its warmth and all its witchery;
To hear the melting music of that voice
Which bids the bosom madden or rejoice;
To know that every glance and thought and tone
Of one devoted spirit is our own—
O! this is joy, like that to angels given,
Filled to the brim, the heavenliest cup of heaven.
Her Robber-love and young Nuleeni share
Each bliss as perfect as the heart may bear,
All those soft dreams th' impassioned spirit knows,
Those wild emotions Love alone bestows—
Ecstatic fancies which but once can be,
Making us quite forget Mortality!—
He looked upon her eye, as 'twere the star
Of life and death to him—no gem afar
That sparkled o'er them in the clear blue sky
Foretold so truly of his destiny.
There was a softened sadness on his brow,
But seldom there, though too apparent now—
The savage sternness from his face was gone
Where but the beam of Melancholy shone,
As 'twere prophetic of the grief that soon
Must fling its shadow on their blissful moon—
Or like a herald onward sent to tell
That all within his bosom was not well.
"Thee, sweet! to-night for one short hour I leave—
'A daring conquest must my hand achieve;
"And 'tis my promise, ere another chief
"Shall be selected for thy love's relief,
"Once more to lead them to their prey alone,
"Then quit for ever, and be all thine own.
"Quench not the light of that life-giving eye:
"Swift on the wings of Love to thee I'll fly—
"But one short hour—and I demand no more—
"For ever thine, when that short hour is o'er."