Ayesha. My love, do you hear? (Aside to FATIMA.) (Aloud.)

And pray does your highness suppose they are near?
Abou Malek. Oh Prophet! great Prophet!—if ever I come
To bliss, I entreat let my Houri be dumb!
Give that clapper a holiday once in thy life.
But come thou to my bosom, my friend, and

Thy silence, thy gentleness, ever must please.
Alas-I forgot-you may give me the keys.

my

wife!

[TO FATIMA.

Fatima. The keys, my dread Lord ?—give me time to prepare,

I have lost them, mislaid them—can't tell where they are. Abou Malek. You have lost them! mislaid them! oh ominous word!

The keys, in an instant!

Fatima (kneeling and covering her face). Receive them, my Lord!

Abou Malek. (After looking at the keys, he drops them.) And art thou detected, whom least I suspected?

Oh prophetess! prophetess! great was thy skill! Ayesha (flinging herself at his feet). It all was my doing!-mine, mine, be the ruin!

But do not, oh do not your Fatima kill !

Abou Malek (turning away from FATIMA). I dare not behold thee, should my arms once enfold thee,

My purpose, I feel, in a moment would cool. Ayesha (aside to FATIMA). Yet, yet I would try him— with compliments ply him :

A husband, well flatter'd, is always a fool.—

♦

Fatima. Is pity so strange to a conqueror's bosom?

So slight an offence must such vengeance pursue? Ayesha. Was your father a wolf?—was your nurse an opossum,

That your heart does not melt her distresses to view? Fatima. When first from the cot of my father you bore me, I hoped for protection from peril and scorn.

Abou Malek. Oh horror to see thee thus kneeling before me,

And kneeling in vain! I have sworn! I have sworn! [A great noise without, fire of musketry, shouts, &c. By Heaven! are these Arabs so close on my traces? Have the rascals such courage, such conduct and skill? For a moment I leave thee, 'twere bliss to reprieve thee,

But hope not, oh hope not to soften my will. [Exit. Ayesha. Thank our stars! he is gone, and the castle's surrounded!

And-oh! blessed accident, here are the keys! I swear he shall keep us no longer impounded, Make off!

—we can get through the postern with ease.

Oh me! come again.

Re-enter ABOU MALEK, who catches FATIMA.

Abou Malek.

AYESHA escapes.

What, ye fiends! are ye flying? Have ye sold me to fall by the bands of Mount Hor? Ayesha (without). Oh hasten to rescue a lady from dying! Oh hasten, Selim, I'm unbolting the door!

Abou Malek. Is it thus? Oh I thank thee for giving me rest;

Thy treason has taken a load from my breast!

I can murther thee now without fear of relenting,
And fall, if my doom is to fall, unrepenting!
But live, while I print a last kiss on thy brow,
The last and the sweetest !

Selim (rushing in with a drawn sabre). Now, murderer, now!

Turn, infidel Giaour!

Abou Malek.

Is the lion at bay?

Woe, woe to the hunter who stands in his way!

[Fight.

Ha! Peasant! well fought! that last thrust was a raker, And my business-will soon be-with Monkir—and

Hakir.

[Falls.

Enter AYESHA and ARABS.

Abou Malek. Oh prophetess! prophetess! well hast

thou said!

And Fatima, fear not! kneel down by my head!
Believers-bear witness! my sins to atone,

I make her my heiress-the castle's her own!
Forgive me! farewell—I had more-but 'tis past,
The first of my wives whom I loved is—the last! [Dies.
Shekh. The Bashaw had a right to devise his estate,
But the Shekh of Mount Hor has a hold on his plate!
[The SHEKH and his Attendants are all loaded with booty.
Fatima. Alas, my Lord Shekh !—you can ne'er be repaid,
For your generous assistance!

my trade!

Shekh.
Pooh! fighting's
But, Selim, in my mind, ere your union is hurried,
Abou Malek had better be handsomely buried.
Of weddings, poor man! he abundance has seen,
But 'tis always unlucky to marry thirteen!

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

ΤΟ

LIEUTENANT-GENERAL SIR ROWLAND HILL, K.B.

HILL! whose high daring with renew'd success
Hath cheered our tardy war, what time the cloud
Of expectation, dark and comfortless,

Hung on the mountains; and yon factious crowd
Blasphemed their country's valour, babbling loud!
Then was thine arm reveal'd, to whose young might,
By Toulon's leaguer'd wall, the fiercest bow'd;
Whom Egypt honour'd, and the dubious fight
Of sad Corunna's winter, and more bright
Douro, and Talavera's gory bays;

Wise, modest, brave, in danger foremost found.—
So still, young warrior, may thy toil-earn'd praise,
With England's love and England's honour crown'd,
Gild with delight thy father's latter days!

LINES

SPOKEN IN THE THEATRE, OXFORD,

ON LORD GRENVILLE'S INSTALLATION AS CHANCELLOR.

YE viewless guardians of these sacred shades,
Dear dreams of early song, Aonian maids !-
And you, illustrious dead! whose spirits speak
In each warm flush that tints the student's cheek,
As, wearied with the world, he seeks again
The page of better times and greater men;
If with pure worship we your steps pursue,
And youth, and health, and rest forget for you,

(Whom most we serve, to whom our lamp burns bright
Through the long toils of not ingrateful night,)
Yet, yet be present!-Let the worldly train

Mock our cheap joys, and hate our useless strain,
Intent on freighted wealth, or proud to rear
The fleece Iberian or the pamper'd steer;—
Let sterner science with unwearied eye
Explore the circling spheres and map the sky;
His long-drawn mole let lordly commerce scan,
And of his iron arch the rainbow
span:

Yet, while, in burning characters imprest,
The poet's lesson stamps the youthful breast;
Bids the rapt boy o'er suffering virtue bleed,
Adore a brave or bless a gentle deed,