sitting in the sun,
Will wondering listen, and this tale shall ease
For long, the burthen of their talking griefs.

_Cola._ Upon my knees I pray you, let it sleep,
The vision.

_Mosada._ You're pale and weeping, child.
Be not afraid, you'll see no fearful thing.
Thus, thus I beckon from her viewless fields--
Thus beckon to our aid a Phantom fair
And calm, robed all in raiment moony white.
She was a great enchantress once of yore,
Whose dwelling was a tree-wrapt island, lulled
Far out upon the water world and ringed
With wonderful white sand, where never yet
Were furled the wings of ships. There in a dell
A lily blanched place, she sat and sang,
And in her singing wove around her head
White lilies, and her song flew forth afar
Along the sea; and many a man grew hushed
In his own house or 'mong the merchants grey,
Hearing the far off singing guile and groaned,
And manned an argosy and sailing died.
In the far isle she sang herself asleep
At last. But now I wave her to my side.

_Cola._ Stay, stay, or I will hold your white arms down.
Ah me, I cannot reach them--here and there
Darting you wave them, darting in the vapour.
Heard you? Your lute upon the wall has sounded!
I feel a finger drawn across my cheek!

_Mosada._ The phantoms come; ha ha! they come, they come!
I wave them hither, my breast heaves with joy.
Ah! now I'm eastern-hearted once again,
And while they gather round my beckoning arms,
I'll sing the songs the dusky lovers sing,
Wandering in sultry palaces of Ind,
A lotus in their hands--

[_The door is flung open. Enter the Officers of the Inquisition._]

_First Inquisitor._ Young Moorish girl
Taken in magic. In the Church's name
I here arrest thee.

_Mosada._ It is Allah's will.
Touch not this boy, for he is innocent.

_Cola._ Forgive! for I have told them everything.
They said I'd burn in hell unless I told
Them all, and let them find you in the vapour.

[_She turns away--he clings to her dress._]

Forgive me!

_Mosada._ It was Allah's will.

_Second Inquisitor._ Now cords.

_Mosada._ No need to bind my hands. Where are ye, sirs,
For ye are hid with vapours?

_Second Inquisitor._ Round the stake
The vapour is much thicker.

_Cola._ God! the stake!
Ye said that ye would fright her from her sin--
No more; take me instead of her, great sirs.
She was my only friend; I