To Zara

Miss Porden

My lovely Zara, dearest weep no more
Again thy Hassan sees his native shore
For he whom love protects can safely go
O’er Afric’s sands, or Chimborazo’s snow.

Charmed by thy voice the winds forgot to rise
It seem’d no ruder than thy tender sighs
Those sighs which, forc’d to leave thee, firm tho’ griev’d
My ear rejected, but my heart receiv’d.

Fearless I met the Simoom’s arid blast,
Or flying columns of the sandy waste
Harmless o’er me the hot Sirocco flew
Or death’s chill wind, the icy Sarzar blew.

I heard the fierce hyena laugh around
The jackal moaning o’er the game he found
The lion eyed me as he roam’d for prey
But only growl’d, and sullen slunk away.