As she lay This morning sleeping, all at once she started And cried: "list, list! there come my father's camels!"

And then she drooped again upon her pillow And I withdrew--when, lo! you really came.

Her thoughts have only been with you--and him.

NATHAN.

And HIM? What him?

DAYA.

With him, who from the fire Preserved her life,

NATHAN.

Who was it? Where is he, That saved my Recha for me?

DAYA.

A young templar, Brought hither captive a few days ago, And pardoned by the Sultan.

NATHAN.

How, a TEMPLAR Dismissed with life by Saladin. In truth, Not a less miracle was to preserve her, G.o.d!--G.o.d! -

DAYA.

Without this man, who risked afresh The Sultan's unexpected boon, we'd lost her.

NATHAN.

Where is he, Daya, where's this n.o.ble youth?

Do, lead me to his feet. Sure, sure you gave him What treasures I had left you--gave him all, Promised him more--much more?

DAYA.

How could we?

NATHAN.

Not?

DAYA.

He came, he went, we know not whence, or whither.

Quite unacquainted with the house, unguided But by his ear, he prest through smoke and flame, His mantle spread before him, to the room Whence pierced the shrieks for help; and we began To think him lost--and her; when, all at once, Bursting from flame and smoke, he stood before us, She in his arm upheld. Cold and unmoved By our loud warmth of thanks, he left his booty, Struggled into the crowd, and disappeared.

NATHAN.

But not for ever, Daya, I would hope.

DAYA.

For some days after, underneath you palms, That shade his grave who rose again from death, We saw him wandering up and down. I went, With transport went to thank him. I conjured, Intreated him to visit once again The dear sweet girl he saved, who longed to shed At her preserver's feet the grateful tear -

NATHAN.

Well?

DAYA.

But in vain. Deaf to our warmest prayers, On me he flung such bitter mockery -

NATHAN.

That hence rebuffed -

DAYA.

Oh, no, oh, no, indeed not, Daily I forced myself upon him, daily Afresh encountered his dry taunting speeches.

Much I have borne, and would have borne much more: But he of late forbears his lonely walk Under the scattered palms, which stand about Our holy sepulchre: nor have I learnt Where he now is. You seem astonished--thoughtful -

NATHAN.

I was imagining what strange impressions This conduct makes on such a mind as Recha's.

Disdained by one whom she must feel compelled To venerate and to esteem so highly.

At once attracted and repelled--the combat Between her head and heart must yet endure, Regret, Resentment, in unusual struggle.

Neither, perhaps, obtains the upper hand, And busy fancy, meddling in the fray, Weaves wild enthusiasms to her dazzled spirit, Now clothing Pa.s.sion in the garb of Reason, And Reason now in Pa.s.sion's--do I err?

This last is Recha's fate--Romantic notions -

DAYA.

Aye; but such pious, lovely, sweet, illusions.

NATHAN.

Illusions though.

DAYA.

Yes: and the one, her bosom Clings to most fondly, is, that the brave templar Was but a transient inmate of the earth, A guardian angel, such as from her childhood She loved to fancy kindly hovering round her, Who from his veiling cloud amid the fire Stepped forth in her preserver's form. You smile - Who knows? At least beware of banishing So pleasing an illusion--if deceitful Christian, Jew, Mussulman, agree to own it, And 'tis--at least to her--a dear illusion.

NATHAN.

Also to me. Go, my good Daya, go, See what she's after. Can't I speak with her?

Then I'll find out our untamed guardian angel, Bring him to sojourn here awhile among us - We'll pinion his wild wing, when once he's taken.

DAYA.

You undertake too much.