The works of Mrs. Hemans With a memoir of her life, by her sister. In seven volumes |
 | I. |
| II. |
 | III. |
|
SONG.
FOUNDED ON AN ARABIAN ANECDOTE. |
|
|
|
|
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
 | The works of Mrs. Hemans |  |
107
SONG. FOUNDED ON AN ARABIAN ANECDOTE.
Away! though still thy sword is red
With life-blood from my sire,
No drop of thine may now be shed
To quench my bosom's fire;
Though on my heart 'twould fall more blest,
Than dews upon the desert's breast.
With life-blood from my sire,
No drop of thine may now be shed
To quench my bosom's fire;
Though on my heart 'twould fall more blest,
Than dews upon the desert's breast.
I've sought thee 'midst the sons of men,
Through the wide city's fanes;
I've sought thee by the lion's den,
O'er pathless, boundless plains;
No step that mark'd the burning waste,
But mine its lonely course hath traced.
Through the wide city's fanes;
I've sought thee by the lion's den,
O'er pathless, boundless plains;
No step that mark'd the burning waste,
But mine its lonely course hath traced.
Thy name hath been a baleful spell,
O'er my dark spirit cast;
No thought may dream, no words may tell,
What there unseen hath pass'd:
This wither'd cheek, this faded eye,
Are seals of thee—behold! and fly!
O'er my dark spirit cast;
No thought may dream, no words may tell,
What there unseen hath pass'd:
This wither'd cheek, this faded eye,
Are seals of thee—behold! and fly!
Hath not my cup for thee been pour'd,
Beneath the palm-tree's shade?
Hath not soft sleep thy frame restored,
Within my dwelling laid?
What though unknown—yet who shall rest
Secure—if not the Arab's guest?
Beneath the palm-tree's shade?
Hath not soft sleep thy frame restored,
Within my dwelling laid?
What though unknown—yet who shall rest
Secure—if not the Arab's guest?
108
Haste thee! and leave my threshold-floor,
Inviolate and pure!
Let not thy presence tempt me more,
—Man may not thus endure!
Away! I bear a fetter'd arm,
A heart that burns—but must not harm!
Inviolate and pure!
Let not thy presence tempt me more,
—Man may not thus endure!
Away! I bear a fetter'd arm,
A heart that burns—but must not harm!
Begone! outstrip the swift gazelle!
The wind in speed subdue!
Fear cannot fly so swift, so well,
As vengeance shall pursue;
And hate, like love, in parting pain,
Smiles o'er one hope—we meet again!
The wind in speed subdue!
Fear cannot fly so swift, so well,
As vengeance shall pursue;
And hate, like love, in parting pain,
Smiles o'er one hope—we meet again!
To-morrow—and th' avenger's hand,
The warrior's dart is free!
E'en now, no spot in all thy land,
Save this, had shelter'd thee,
Let blood the monarch's hall profane,—
The Arab's tent must bear no stain!
The warrior's dart is free!
E'en now, no spot in all thy land,
Save this, had shelter'd thee,
Let blood the monarch's hall profane,—
The Arab's tent must bear no stain!
Fly! may the desert's fiery blast
Avoid thy secret way!
And sternly, till thy steps be past,
Its whirlwinds sleep to-day!
I would not that thy doom should be
Assign'd by Heaven to aught but me.
Avoid thy secret way!
And sternly, till thy steps be past,
Its whirlwinds sleep to-day!
I would not that thy doom should be
Assign'd by Heaven to aught but me.
| The works of Mrs. Hemans | |