"When Paswan, after years of strife,

At last for power, but first for life,

In Widdin's walls too proudly sate, 710

Our Pachas rallied round the state;

Not last nor least in high command,

Each brother led a separate band;

They gave their Horse-tails[167] to the wind,

And mustering in Sophia's plain

Their tents were pitched, their post assigned;

To one, alas! assigned in vain!

What need of words? the deadly bowl,

By Giaffir's order drugged and given,

With venom subtle as his soul,[gl]

Dismissed Abdallah's hence to heaven. 720

Reclined and feverish in the bath,

He, when the hunter's sport was up,

But little deemed a brother's wrath

To quench his thirst had such a cup:

The bowl a bribed attendant bore;

He drank one draught,[168] nor needed more!

If thou my tale, Zuleika, doubt,

Call Haroun—he can tell it out.