CANTO II. f)*t

And one was red — perchance with guilt!Ah! how without can hlood he spilt?

A cup too on the hoard was set Gto

That did not seem to hold sherbet.

What may this mean ? she turned to seeHer Selim — «Oh! can this he he? *

IX

His robe of pride was thrown aside,llishrow no high - crowned turban here, 6i5Rut in its stead a shawl of rod,

Wreathed lightly round, his templeswore :

That dagger, on whose hilt the gemw ere worthy of a diadem ,

No longer glittered at his wai t, 620

Wh< . r e pistols unadorned were braced;

And from his holt a sabre swung.

And from his shoulder loosely hungThe cloak of white, the thin capoteThat decks the wandeiing Candiote: 62 5

Beneath — his golden plated vestClung like a cniiass to his breast;

The greaves below bis knee that woundWith silvery scales were sheathed and bound.But were it not that high command 63 o

II. G