Classic Poem

The night is dark. No moonlight shines
Along the Moslem's battle-lines;
And jewelled mosque and stern serai
Lie darkling 'neath an Eastern sky.
The fair Zareefa in her bower
Trembling awaits the fatal hour
When Cassim, on his fiery horse,
Will carry her away of course.

Noureddin's eyeballs blazed with ire,
His bondmen trembled at their fire.
Across the chamber's length he paced
And to and fro his steps retraced
While, musing o'er Zareefa's guilt,
His right hand sought his dagger hilt.
At moments too his favourite page
Declared his whiskers curled with rage.
Fiercely he scowled to left and right.
Bismillah! 'twas a shocking sight.