Zelis at Tripoli, to Ibrahim in London

Oh, thou delight and sovereign of my soul, Haste to revisit thy lov'd native shore, Quick as the lightning flies from pole to pole, Fly thou to me, ere yet I am no more!

Those charms which thou wert wont so much to prize, Those charms, alas! are now for ever fled, Faded and gone the lustre of my eyes, And all the roses on my cheeks are dead.

As the pale lily, drench'd with morning dews, Hangs down dejectedly its drooping head, So my wan cheek to the beholder shews, Ne'er to resume its once delicious red.

Black boding thoughts first robb'd me of my peace, And long in secret on my mind have prey'd, In vain is medicine tried to give me ease, In vain, alas! is the physician's aid.

For babbling Fame has whisper'd in my ear, Since you your Zelis could no longer see, That to your bosom she no more is dear, And Ibrahim is false to love and me;

That you're a rover, like the birds of air, Or, like the bee, that sips each honied flower, You flutter round each gay fantastic fair, And fondly court her to the myrtle bower.

Does the first object of my early love, To whom I gave my spotless virgin charms, Ungrateful to his faithful Zelis prove, And waste his substance in a Dancer's arms?

Hark! Honour warns thee from each vicious deed, Oh rouse each virtue sleeping in thy breast! Thy Zelis' bosom then no more shall bleed, No more shall be with jealous cares opprest.

What wouldst thou think, if traitor to thy bed Thy Zelis should, while thou art absent, prove, By every amorous youth astray be led, And to whoever courts her yield her love?

But she, tho' sharp thorns rankle in her breast, Still to her mate, like Philomel, is true, Like that sweet bird at night can take no rest, But sings a plaintive song of love and you.

No need have I of slaves to guard my door, Of Negro hags most hideous to the sight, Virtue can shield, whoe'er she dwells with, more Than eunuchs watching round her bed each night.

Oh think, thou dear destroyer of my ease, Oh think how cruel those deep wounds must prove, How it must rob me of all joy and peace, To know that Ibrahim's faithless to his love?

Haste to my arms, before my eyes I close, To calm the torments I for thee endure, Haste, for 'tis thou alone canst bring repose, The hand that gave the wound alone can cure.

Oh then restore my peace before I die; Let me thy graceful, manly person view; Oh let me hear thee say, that "tho' thy eye Was free, thy heart to me was always true."

So will I clasp thee in my longing arms, So will I bless thee with my latest breath, So will I pleas'd resign my faded charms To the relentless clay-cold hands of death.

And sure these faded charms again shall bloom, And, like to man's, my soul to heaven shall fly, My body rise more glorious from the tomb, And live with Allah to eternity.

Else why has heaven bestow'd a generous mind, Adorn'd with virtue, constancy, and love? If here on earth no due reward they find, They surely must be recompens'd above.

Perhaps there walking in immortal groves, Like some celestial Houri I shall shine, Perhaps again we shall renew our loves, And my dear Ibrahim be for ever mine.

No jealous fears shall then my peace destroy, No thoughts of parting shall disturb my rest, But love alone my every thought employ, For ever blessing, and for ever blest.