V.

No sound from Selim's lip was heard, At least that met old Giaffir's ear, But every frown and every word Pierced keener than a Christian's sword. "Son of a slave!--reproached with fear! Those gibes had cost another dear. 110 Son of a slave!--and _who_ my Sire?" Thus held his thoughts their dark career; And glances ev'n of more than ire[ff] Flash forth, then faintly disappear. Old Giaffir gazed upon his son And started; for within his eye He read how much his wrath had done; He saw rebellion there begun: "Come hither, boy--what, no reply? I mark thee--and I know thee too; 120 But there be deeds thou dar'st not do: But if thy beard had manlier length, And if thy hand had skill and strength, I'd joy to see thee break a lance, Albeit against my own perchance." As sneeringly these accents fell, On Selim's eye he fiercely gazed: That eye returned him glance for glance, And proudly to his Sire's was raised[fg], Till Giaffir's quailed and shrunk askance-- 130 And why--he felt, but durst not tell. "Much I misdoubt this wayward boy Will one day work me more annoy: I never loved him from his birth, And--but his arm is little worth, And scarcely in the chase could cope With timid fawn or antelope, Far less would venture into strife Where man contends for fame and life-- I would not trust that look or tone: 140 No--nor the blood so near my own.[fh] That blood--he hath not heard--no more-- I'll watch him closer than before. He is an Arab[131] to my sight, Or Christian crouching in the fight--[fi] But hark!--I hear Zuleika's voice; Like Houris' hymn it meets mine ear: She is the offspring of my choice; Oh! more than ev'n her mother dear, With all to hope, and nought to fear-- 150 My Peri! ever welcome here![fj] Sweet, as the desert fountain's wave To lips just cooled in time to save-- Such to my longing sight art thou; Nor can they waft to Mecca's shrine More thanks for life, than I for thine, Who blest thy birth and bless thee now."[fk]