Classic Poem

MUSTAPHA.
By what enchantment does this lovely Greek
Hold in her chains the captivated sultan?
He tires his fav'rites with Irene's praise,
And seeks the shades to muse upon Irene;
Irene steals, unheeded, from his tongue,
And mingles, unperceiv'd, with ev'ry thought.

CALI.
Why should the sultan shun the joys of beauty,
Or arm his breast against the force of love?
Love, that with sweet vicissitude relieves
The warriour's labours and the monarch's cares.
But, will she yet receive the faith of Mecca?

MUSTAPHA.
Those pow'rful tyrants of the female breast,
Fear and ambition, urge her to compliance;
Dress'd in each charm of gay magnificence,
Alluring grandeur courts her to his arms,
Religion calls her from the wish'd embrace,
Paints future joys, and points to distant glories.

CALI.
Soon will th' unequal contest be decided.
Prospects, obscur'd by distance, faintly strike;
Each pleasure brightens, at its near approach,
And ev'ry danger shocks with double horrour.

MUSTAPHA.
How shall I scorn the beautiful apostate!
How will the bright Aspasia shine above her!

CALI.
Should she, for proselytes are always zealous,
With pious warmth receive our prophet's law--

MUSTAPHA.
Heav'n will contemn the mercenary fervour,
Which love of greatness, not of truth, inflames.

CALI.
Cease, cease thy censures; for the sultan comes
Alone, with am'rous haste to seek his love.