Though Moab had His name forgot,
Hath still His own in every land
Taught by His voice led by His hand !
Old Gerda at the maiden's side
Beholds her with a mother's pride ;
Their talk is of the late demand
Made by Algeria's tyrant lord,
Stern Ibrahim, for Fatmeh's hand,
To which the Bey will not accord ;
And much the grateful daughter fears
Her father's pity for her tears
May kindle wear's devouring flame —
'Then hers the sin and hers the shame !'
Behind the women came a troop
Of slaves — a strangely mingled group,
Together brought o'er land and sea,
Of every faith and every kin.
From Ethiop's darkest ebony
To Europe's fairest, rosiest skin.