"All this, Zuleika, harshly sounds;

But harsher still my tale must be:

Howe'er my tongue thy softness wounds,

Yet I must prove all truth to thee."[gn]

I saw thee start this garb to see,

Yet is it one I oft have worn,790

And long must wear: this Galiongée,

To whom thy plighted vow is sworn,

Is leader of those pirate hordes,

Whose laws and lives are on their swords;

To hear whose desolating tale

Would make thy waning cheek more pale:

Those arms thou see'st my band have brought,

The hands that wield are not remote;

This cup too for the rugged knaves

Is filled—once quaffed, they ne'er repine:800

Our Prophet might forgive the slaves;

They're only infidels in wine.