The breath of vain report might build again As in the Caliph and his captain's mind Makes me with joy receive them. Then the Count To Abulcacem turned his speech, and said, I pray thee, Chief, give me a messenger May win her back. What I would say requires The errand shall be given. Boldly he spake, Yet wary in that show of open truth, For well he knew what dangers girt him round For them in madness had he sacrificed His name, his baptism, and his native land, Hung on their jealous favour. But his heart Approved him now, where love, too long restrained, My spirit to that vengeance which your aid We made when first our purpose we combined, My only child, so should she be, I thought, Beyond permitted means, and to my heart, Which loved her dearer than its own life-blood, Abhorrent. Silently she suffered all, Or when I urged her with most vehemence, And craved my patience but a little while And verily I feared until this hour, Than flight had driven my child. Chiefs, I appeal All means that law and nature have allowed Hold myself free, that promise being void Thou sayest then, Orpas replied, that from her false belief Her stubborn opposition drew its force. I should have thought that from the ways corrupt Of these idolatrous Christians, little care Might have sufficed to wean a duteous child, The example of a parent so beloved Leading the way; and yet I will not doubt And holy zeal upon thy daughter's mind The truths of Islam. Julian knit his brow, And scowling on the insidious renegade, He answered, By what reasoning my poor mind None better knows than Seville's mitred chief, Led me his follower to the Prophet's pale. Of graven images, unnatural vows, False records, fabling creeds, and juggling priests, Who making sanctity the cloak of sin, Laughed at the fools on whose credulity They fattened. To these arguments, whose worth And to the subtleties of schools unused, The flagrant fact, that Heaven with victory, The chosen Prophet's arms. If thou wert still The mitred metropolitan, and I Some wretch of Arian or of Hebrew race, Thy proper business then might be to pry, And question me for lurking flaws of faith. As Count Julian ceased, From underneath his black and gathered brow There went a look, which with these wary words Bore to the heart of that false renegade Their whole envenomed meaning. Haughtily Withdrawing then his altered eyes, he said, Too much of this! return we to the sum Of my discourse. Let Abulcacem say, In whom the Caliph speaks, if with all faith Having essayed in vain all means to win My child's consent, I may not hold henceforth The covenant discharged. The Moor replied, Well hast thou said, and rightly may'st assure |