And but his presence now restrains her foes.

On wings of flame the sun had left the main;

Journal of a West India Proprietor — Part 123

And peeping from the trees, the imps too plain

Journal of a West India Proprietor — Part 123

Shot darts of rage from their green orbs of sight:

Journal of a West India Proprietor — Part 123

She heard their gibberings, and she mark’d their spite;

And, while they eyed her form, their care she saw

To grind their teeth, and whet each cruel claw.

Appear’d least fierce; of ills she chose the best,

Sought, where profaned her coral rosary lay,

Then slowly mounted where he show’d the way.

Cautious he led her tow’rds his lone abode,

And clear’d each stone that might impede her road.

With pain she trod: she reach’d the cave; but there

No more their weight her wearied limbs could bear.

Exhausted, fainting, anguish, terror, thirst,

Fatigue o’erpower’d her frame: her heart must burst,

Her eyes grow dim! Sunk on the rock she lies,

And sinking, prays she never more may rise.

Long in this deathlike swoon she lay: at length

Exhausted nature show’d forth all its strength,

And call’d her back to life. Her opening eyes

Whose high straight sides forbade all hopes of flight:

The fractured roof gave ample space for light,

Through which in gorgeous guise the day-star shone

On many a lucid shell and brilliant stone.

Through pendent spars and crystals as it falls,

Each beam with rainbow hues adorns the walls,

Gilds all the roof, emblazes all the ground,

And scatters light, and warmth, and splendour round.

Gently on pillowing furs reposed her head;

With many a verdant rush her couch was spread;

A gourd with blushing fruits was near her placed,

Whose scent and colour woo’d alike her taste;

And round her strewn there bloom’d unnumber’d flowers

One only object chill’d her blood with ear:

Far off removed (but still, alas! too near),

Scarce breathing, lest a breath her sleep might break,

There stood the fiend, and watch’d to see her wake.

In sooth, if credit outward show might crave,

Than Irza, ne’er had nymph an humbler slave.

He watched her every glance; her frown he fear’d;

And if his pains to meet her wish appear’d,

All pains seem’d far o’er-paid, all cares appeased,

And so she found but pleasure, he was pleased.

One power he claim’d, but claim’d that power alone:

Still, when he left her side, a mass of stone

Barr’d up the grotto, nor allow’d her feet