The Beginning of the Story - Page 11 of 25

161   A nightlong vigil so to keep,
The warrior sacrificed his sleep,
Lest o'er the other beast should leap,
Since many roamed the jungle deep.

162   With groans and moans, his sleep to thwart,
The sleeper woke with many a start,
And every sigh was like a dart
Unto the Moor's responsive heart.

163   But with the morrow's hasting light,
Less fitful slumber soothed him quite;
He sighed no more until the night,
Before Aurora, winged its flight.

164   He sensed a consonance, therefore,
Where the five senses clashed before;
His heart was harassed then no more,
And strength reclaimed the body sore.

165   So when the world entire was gleaming
With golden strands, from sunhead streaming,
He slowly rose and soul abeaming,
Thanked Heaven for his strength redeeming.

166   Now speak of Muslim, pleasure flushed:
He clasped his charge; he hugged and crushed.
Where once his tears with grief had gushed,
It was with gladness now they rushed.

167   Tongue cannot tell how truly great
The thanks of him forlorn of late.
But for the loss of plighted mate.
No shadow blurred his cheery state.

168   For, dolours when from love proceeding,
Though from the breast a while receding,
Must in a wink return, and speeding,
Outswell the wave of pain preceding.

169   So, therefore, joy could scarce alight
Upon the heart accursed with blight,
When whelming pain denied it right,
Its arrow staking in the site.

170   Again his breast with grief was fraught—
How hard to bear since by Love wrought!
But for the cheer the Persian brought,
His weak breath were consigned to naught.

171   How I do wish your weal, you see,
The Muslim spoke, all sympathy.
Your woes, their whence, confide to me;
Some antidote, there yet may be.

172   Replied the youth: Not only will
I trace the sources of my ill,
But go to childhood, farther still,
Your wish expressed so to fulfill.

173   Beneath a tree, the couple sate –
One grieving, one compassionate;
The first proceeding to relate
His life until by Fate:

174   A duchy to Albania sworn
Was where I first beheld the morn,
An heir to Duke Briseus born –
O loved father whom I mourn! ^[19]

175   Now dwelling in that peaceful Sphere,
With my beloved mother near,
Floresca, bride to you most dear,
To you, I dedicate each tear.

176   Why was I born into the sway
Of that Albania, not away
In mother's state, Crotona gay?
Then were I spared these griefs today.