" Nay ! nay ! these hands in youth were found
Too weak to burst the cords that bound.
Now, trembling fast with age and pain,
How should they break another's chain ?
I too have questioned, and they say
He stands of late before the Bey.
For Fatmeh ! know, I more than share
For Melleff all thy watchful care.
Child of my poor lost child, to me
Dearer than all on earth save thee ! —
Thou hast no words for wonder ! stay —
My tale thou'lt hear another day.
Enough, enough, that now I show
One chapter of my early woe.
They tore me from my babe, my joy —
Her, since the mother of this boy —
From him I learned that mother's name,
Her orphan state, and whence she came.
Then through my soul there shot a light,
As if the noon should flash on night.