The Poetical Works of Thomas Aird :: :: University of Virginia Library

Entered Zemberbo, as the Monarch lent,
From hid reluctance, or from free consent,
Permission; wrath was on his forehead high,
Glancing like copper; from his kindled eye
Came out fierce question like a bickering sword;
And thus he stayed not for his Sovereign's word:—
“Prince Julian lies immured?—they tell me so!
I did not send him to endure this wo;
Sire, I did send him, in my battles ta'en,
In Fez an honoured Captive to remain,
Declared my kinsman, bone and blood of mine,
And far-descended of the Prophet's line.
Yet, kin forgot, be chains, be pains for him,
Let dropping dungeons rot him, limb by limb;
So thou, high King of Fez, wilt deign to show
My wish not scorned, but him a traitor foe.”

“Sir Chieftain,” said the Monarch, “deign to bow
The dark defiance of that servant brow!
Then haply we'll remind thee of thy boast
To win that town which rules our northern coast,
Held by the foe. Beyond thy promised date,
That Captive Prince was kept in princely state.
Thy boast was vain; it pleased us then to try
If Ceuta him from chains and death might buy.
Not bought, he dies: 'twere well he died this hour,
Just to remind thee of our sovereign power.”

He said, and clapped his hands; a giant band
Of negroes come, and round Zemberbo stand.

165

Yet dauntless stood the Chief, and eyed his King,
Then proudly turned and scanned the sable ring:
Towering he rose as o'er the warlike brunt;
And darker grew his high embattled front;
And flashed his eye, as brings the steely dint
Red seeds of fire from the deforcèd flint.
“Me menace not,” hoarse whispered he, “proud King;
A thousand hearts are ready forth to spring,
To turn my death to vengeance: ere I came
From out my camp that Captive boy to claim
(For in the distant battle I had heard
Myself despised in him thus doomed to ward),
In my great Captains' hearts I breathed my fear,
And won their oath to avenge me injured here,
To avenge that Captive too. But, Sire, no more
Of this; still let me battle on the shore;
With loyal war I've warred to take that town,
And, trust me, I shall yet restore it to thy Crown.
Around it, flashing down the coast, of all
Bravest, careers the King of Portugal,
With vigour like the eagle's youth renewed,
Has baffled me awhile, yet shall he be subdued.
Deign, Sire, still send me to the embattled line;
Thine be the conquests, but that Captive mine.”
Zemberbo thus. Pausing the Monarch sate:
He longed to close with scorn the bold debate,
But feared a foe in one so stern and great;
So, feigning frankness in his voice and eye,
Thus to his rankling heart he gave the lie:—
“Why, what a jest is here! our Man of might
Deigning to pray us for one Captive Knight,—
The Man of our right hand, the Man whose name
To Fez is safety, and to Fez is fame!

166

Go to thy palace, Chief; the Captive there
Shall come to thee, released: those chains had ne'er
Been put upon him, had we deemed that he
Was honoured farther in thy thoughts to be.
Rest thee the night, come back to us at morn,
One day thy presence must our Court adorn;
Then haste to war, and take the wished-for town;
And be thou still the glory of our Crown.”