Song of Selim's Sword

Deep in the ancient bosom of earth
The marvelous ore that gave me birth
For ages slumbered, awaiting the flower
Of the perfect and predestined hour
When, fused by the vital force of fire,
I should shape to a thing for man's desire.

By many a hand was I gripped and swung
Where the press of battle raged and rung;
And ever, although my gleam was fair,
Death hovered where I was poised in air;
But I never tasted the wine of bliss
Till Selim grasped me and claimed me his.

At his touch am I like the lightning made,
And the fiercest foemen flee, afraid;
Deeply his vengeance-lust I slake;
Safely he sleeps, for I ever wake;
And I kindle and thrill with more than pride
When he clasps me tightly and calls me bride!