That she may fill the pacha's ear
With prattle fathers love to hear.
But as the Bey, with rapid sign,
Drew one by one from the sad line
For his own thrall, a look she cast
Curious, scarce pitying, as they passed.
Until her full dilating gaze
A sudden earnestness betrays ;
For lo, a youth with' sunny locks.
And eyes whose humid azure mocks
The dewy violet's purest shade.
Attracts the wondering little maid.
Of bearing bold, of stature high.
With sword-cuts fresh on brow and breast.
Though sorrow dimmed his dreamy eye.
His manly lip was firm comprest.
Oft from old Gerda had she heard, —
And much the tale her fancy stirred, —
That in the cold and distant North,
Land of her foster-mother's birth,