 | The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer |  |
208
IBLA.
Rise, Ibla, rise!
From cloudless skies
Look down the moon and stars;
And near the shore
With boat and oar,
Keep watch, my gallant tars.
Oh, fly this hold of Turkish power,
For land beyond the wave,
Where woman lives a cherished flower,
And not a gold-bought slave!
From cloudless skies
Look down the moon and stars;
And near the shore
With boat and oar,
Keep watch, my gallant tars.
Oh, fly this hold of Turkish power,
For land beyond the wave,
Where woman lives a cherished flower,
And not a gold-bought slave!
Fear not the guard!
Through buckler hard
His heart my dagger found;
And redly now
His turbaned brow
Lies pillowed on the ground.
Haste, Ibla, haste!—my bark for thee
Flings out her canvas white,
And the blue waters of the sea
Will leave no trace of flight!
Through buckler hard
His heart my dagger found;
And redly now
His turbaned brow
Lies pillowed on the ground.
Haste, Ibla, haste!—my bark for thee
Flings out her canvas white,
And the blue waters of the sea
Will leave no trace of flight!
| The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer | |