THE BROKEN SPELL.
29
When from her favourite rose a cloud
Floated like those at break of day;—
She mark'd its silvery folds unshroud,
And there a radiant figure lay.
And in murmurs soft as those
Which sweep the sea at evening close,
Spoke the Spirit of the Rose:—
"Mirzala, thy lover sleeps
While his mistress for him weeps.
He is bound by magic spell,
Of force which woman's love may quell;
I will guide thee to the hall
Where thy faith may break his thrall.
Think thou if thy heart can dare
All that thou must look on there.
Turn not thou for hope nor fear,
Till the marble hall appear.
