Oh, dry your unavailing tears !
Let faith and prayer assuage your woes,
And leave the grave to its repose !"
Admonished thus, their grief they stayed,
And silent there a moment prayed,
Then with sad looks still backward cast,
Forth from the place of tombs they passed.
Meanwhile toward Nefta rode the Bey,
And on his heart strange burden lay.
Was it the morning's sight of woe
That left his sluggish pulse so low ?
Aali was wont to look on death,
And lightly valued life's poor breath.
'Twas no weak terror of the tomb
That wrapped his spirit in this gloom.
It was the agony of life,
The change, the chance, the mortal strife,
That o'er the vision of his soul