That season approaches, gay Azima grew
Of an old helpless father, the pride and the heir;
Her treasures were coveted not by a few,
And by one, of a heart not inclined to despair.
Hermossan's chief rival, an arrogant youth,
An Armenian his father! his mother a Turk!
That mother, more noted for cunning, than truth,
On Azima's fancy had studied to work.
The crescent, to give her young bosom alarm,
On the child she had fix'd with a soft silken cord;
To persuade the gay nymph, by this magical charm,
That none but a Mussulman must be her lord.
Hermossan a Persian, more noble and true.
As to woman she rose, put those fancies to flight;
But Ayesha, who watch'd with a mischievous view,
Soon the ruby surveyed, and survey'd it with spite.
She saw, 'twas a talisman fashioned by love,
Which she hoped to destroy by a daring device;
And, purloining the ring, as it lay in a glove,
With a diamond replaced it, far richer in price.
With her prize she escaped, from her visit uncheck'd;
Soon a change so unwish'd, was to Azima known,
She detested the diamond, with which she was deckt,
Sent back the new gem, and demanded her own.
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