Chapter 14 No.14

Ay, he wakes,-and dull of cheer,

Though this queen be very dear,

Though a respite come with day

From th' abhorrèd flight and fray,

E'en though life be not the cost,

Nay, nor crown nor honour lost;

For in his soul abideth fear

Worse than of the Khalif's spear,

Smiting when perforce in flight

He was borne,-for that was nigh