"Within thy Father's house are foes;

Not all who break his bread are true:

To these should I my birth disclose,

His days-his very hours were few:

They only want a heart to lead,

A hand to point them to the deed.

But Haroun only knows, or knew

This tale, whose close is almost nigh:

He in Abdallah's palace grew, 760

And held that post in his Serai

Which holds he here—he saw him die;

But what could single slavery do?

Avenge his lord? alas! too late;

Or save his son from such a fate?

He chose the last, and when elate

With foes subdued, or friends betrayed,

Proud Giaffir in high triumph sate,

He led me helpless to his gate,

And not in vain it seems essayed 770

To save the life for which he prayed.

The knowledge of my birth secured

From all and each, but most from me;

Thus Giaffir's safety was ensured.

Removed he too from Roumelie

To this our Asiatic side,

Far from our seats by Danube's tide,

With none but Haroun, who retains

Such knowledge—and that Nubian feels

A Tyrant's secrets are but chains, 780

From which the captive gladly steals,

And this and more to me reveals:

Such still to guilt just Allah sends—

Slaves, tools, accomplices—no friends!