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Like a pale disastrous planet
O'er the purple tide of war—
On that day of desolation,
Lady, I was captive made;
Bleeding for my Christian nation,
By the walls of high Belgrade
Captive, could the highest jewel
In my turban set thee free?
Lady, no, the gift were cruel,
Ransom'd yet if reft of thee.
Say, fair princess would it grieve thee,
Christian climes should we behold?
Nay, bold knight, I would not leave thee,
Were thy ransom paid in gold.
Now in heaven's blue expansion
Rose the midnight star to view,
Then, to quit her father's mansion,
Thrice she wept, and bade adieu.
Fly we then while none discover,
Tyrant banks in vain ye ride—
Soon as Rhodes the British lover,
Clasp'd his blooming Eastern bride.
