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Title: The Renegade
Author: George Borrow [
More Titles by Borrow]
Now pay ye the heed that is fitting,
Whilst I sing ye the Iran adventure;
The pasha on sofa was sitting,
Midst his harem's glorious centre.
Greek sang, and Tcherkass, for his pleasure,
And Kergoosian captive is dancing;
In the eyes of the first heaven's azure,
In the others black Eblis is glancing.
But the pasha's attention is failing,
O'er his visage his fair turban stealeth;
From chebouk he sleep is inhaling,
Whilst around him sweet vapours he dealeth.
What rumour without is there breeding?
Ye fair ranks asunder why wend ye?
Kyslar Aga, a strange captive leading,
Cometh forward, and crieth "Efendy."
"Whose face has the power when present
'Mong the stars round the divan which muster?
Who amidst the gems of night's crescent
Has the blaze of Aldeboran's lustre?
"Glance nearer, bright star! I have tiding,
Glad tiding. Behold how in duty
From far Lehistan the wind, gliding,
Has brought this fresh tribute of beauty.
"In the padishaw's garden there bloometh
In proud Istambul no such blossom;
From the wintry regions she cometh,
Whose memory so lives in thy bosom."
Then the gauzes removes he which shade her,
At her beauty all wonder intensely;
One moment the pasha surveyed her,
Then, dropping his chebouk, without sense lay.
His turban has fallen from his forehead,
To assist him the bystanders started.
His mouth foams, his face blackens horrid,--
See, the Renegade's soul has departed!
[The end]
George Borrow's poem: The Renegade
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