 | A collection of original poems and translations |  |
The Turk with Rapture saw the pleasing scene,
The Home-felt Joy ran warm thro' ev'ry Vein.
Their Gratitude his inmost Soul approv'd,
That loudly told how much himself was lov'd.
“Come then, he said, the sumpt'ous Feast prepare,
“My Wives, to deck the Banquet be your Care,
“As if great Ottoman himself was here.
“For know th'Imperial Crescent's sacred Flame,
“Can ne'er more Homage than Cornaro claim.
“And ye, my Sons, whate'er my Wardrobe boast,
“What Crimson, Gold, or Gems can have of cost
“Bring forth; but oh! however rich the Dress,
“How faintly will it his Soul's worth express!
“Come then, my Friend, but why that downcast Eye,
“That Cheek yet pale, and that still heaving Sigh!
“Freedom thou hast, and what else Wealth can give,
“Is my blest Task—Yours only to receive.
The Home-felt Joy ran warm thro' ev'ry Vein.
Their Gratitude his inmost Soul approv'd,
That loudly told how much himself was lov'd.
“Come then, he said, the sumpt'ous Feast prepare,
“My Wives, to deck the Banquet be your Care,
“As if great Ottoman himself was here.
“For know th'Imperial Crescent's sacred Flame,
“Can ne'er more Homage than Cornaro claim.
“And ye, my Sons, whate'er my Wardrobe boast,
“What Crimson, Gold, or Gems can have of cost
“Bring forth; but oh! however rich the Dress,
“How faintly will it his Soul's worth express!
“Come then, my Friend, but why that downcast Eye,
“That Cheek yet pale, and that still heaving Sigh!
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“Is my blest Task—Yours only to receive.
| A collection of original poems and translations | |