Escaped from shot, unharmed by steel,

Or scarcely grazed its force to feel,[ha] 1040

Had Selim won, betrayed, beset,

To where the strand and billows met;

There as his last step left the land,

And the last death-blow dealt his hand—

Ah! wherefore did he turn to look[hb]

For her his eye but sought in vain?

That pause, that fatal gaze he took,

Hath doomed his death, or fixed his chain.

Sad proof, in peril and in pain,

How late will Lover's hope remain! 1050

His back was to the dashing spray;

Behind, but close, his comrades lay,

When, at the instant, hissed the ball—

"So may the foes of Giaffir fall!"

Whose voice is heard? whose carbine rang?

Whose bullet through the night-air sang,

Too nearly, deadly aimed to err?

'Tis thine—Abdallah's Murderer!

The father slowly rued thy hate,

The son hath found a quicker fate: 1060

Fast from his breast the blood is bubbling,

The whiteness of the sea-foam troubling—

If aught his lips essayed to groan,

The rushing billows choked the tone!