The works of lord Byron

of the sky,

In colour though varied, in beauty may vie,
And the purple of Ocean is deepest in die;
Where the virgins are soft as the roses they
twine,

And all, save the spirit of man, is divine?
Tis the clime of the east; 'tis the land of
the Sun-

Where the tints of the earth, and the hues In sooth I love not solitude;
I on Zuleika's slumber broke,
And, as thou knowest that for me
Soon turns the Haram's grating key,
Before the guardian slaves awoke
We to the cypress-groves had flown,
And made earth, main, and heaven our own!
There linger'd we, beguiled too long
With Mejnoun's tale, or Sadi's song;
Till I, who heard the deep tambour
Beat thy Divan's approaching hour,
To thee and to my duty true,
Warn'd by the sound, to greet thee flew :
But there Zuleika wanders yet-
Nay, father, rage not-nor forget
That none can pierce that secret bower
But those who watch the women's tower."

Can he smile on such deeds as his children have done?

Oh! wild as the accents of lovers' farewell Are the hearts which they bear, and the tales which they tell.

Begirt with many a gallant slave,
Apparel'd as becomes the brave,
Awaiting each his Lord's behest

To guide his steps, or guard his rest,
Old Giaffir sate in his Divan:
Deep thought was in his aged eye:
And though the face of Mussulman
at oft betrays to standers by
The mind within, well skill'd to hide
All bat unconquerable pride,
Expensive cheek and pondering brow
more than he was wont avow.

Pacha! to hear is to obey."

more must slave to despot say-
T to the tower had ta'en his way,
But
There young Selim silence brake,
First lowly rendering reverence meet;
And downcast look'd, and gently spake,
ill standing at the Pacha's feet:
Fer son of Moslem must expire,
Le dare to sit before his sire!

"Son of a slave"-the Pacha said-
"From unbelieving mother bred,
Vain were a father's hopes to see
Aught that beseems a man in thee.
Thou, when thine arm should bend the bow,
And hurl the dart, and curb the steed,
Thou, Greek in soul if not in creed,
Must pore where babbling waters flow,
And watch unfolding roses blow.
Would that yon orb, whose matin-glow
Would lend thee something of his fire!
Thy listless eyes so much admire,
Thou, who would'st see this battlement

By Christian cannon piecemeal rent;
Before the dogs of Moscow fall,
Nay, tamely view old Stambol's wall

Nor strike one stroke for life and death
Against the curs of Nazareth!
Go-let thy less than woman's hand
Assume the distaff-not the brand.
But, Haroun !-to my daughter speed:
And hark-of thine own head take heed-
If thus Zuleika oft takes wing-
Thou seest yon bow-it hath a string!"

No sound from Selim's lip was heard,
At least that met old Giaffir's ear,
But every frown and every word
Pierced keener than a Christian's sword.
"Son of a slave!-reproach'd with fear!
Those gibes had cost another dear.
Son of a slave!-and who my sire?"
Thus held his thoughts their dark career,
And glances even of more than ire
Flash forth, then faintly disappear.

Father! for fear that thou should'st chide Old Giaffir gazed upon his son

Mister, or her sable guide,

-for the fault, if fault there be,

And started; for within his eye

He read how much his wrath had done;

Wa mine, then fall thy frowns on me- He saw rebellion there begun :

velily the morning shone,

That-let the old and weary sleep-

Ild not; and to view alone

The fairest scenes of land and deep,

With

none to listen and reply

To thenghts with which my heart beat high
Were irksome-for whate'er my mood,

"Come hither, boy-what, no reply?
1 mark thee-and I know thee too;
But there be deeds thou darest not do:
But if thy beard had manlier length,
And if thy hand had skill and strength,
I'd joy to see thee break a lance,
Albeit against my own perchance.”

As sneeringly these accents fell,
On Selim's eye he fiercely gazed:

The heart whose softness harmonized th

whole

Her graceful arms in meekness bendin
Across her gently-budding breast;
At one kind word those arms extending
To clasp the neck of him who blest
His child caressing and carest,
Zuleika came- and Giaffir felt
His purpose half within him melt:
Not that against her fancied weal
His heart though stern could ever feel;
Affection chain'd her to that heart;
Ambition tore the links apart.

That eye return'd him glance for glance, And, oh! that eye was in itself a Soul!
And proudly to his sire's was raised,
Till Giaffir's quail'd and shrunk askance-
And why-he felt, but durst not tell.
"Much I misdoubt this wayward boy
Will one day work me more annoy;
I never loved him from his birth,
And-but his arm is little worth,
And scarcely in the chase could cope
With timid fawn or antelope,
Far less would venture into strife
Where man contends for fame and life-
I would not trust that look or tone:
No-nor the blood so near my own.
That blood-he hath not heard-no more-
I'll watch him closer than before.
He is an Arab to my sight,

Or Christian crouching in the fight-
But hark!-I hear Zuleika's voice;
Like Houris' hymn it meets mine ear:
She is the offspring of my choice;
O! more than even her mother dear,
With all to hope, and nought to fear-
My Peri! ever welcome here!
Sweet, as the desert-fountain's wave
To lips just cool'd in time to save-
Such to my longing sight art thou;
Nor can they waft to Mecca's shrine
More thanks for life, than I for thine
Who blest thy birth, and bless thee now."

“Zuleika! child of gentleness!
How dear this very day must tell,
When I forget my own distress,
In losing what I love so well,
To bid thee with another dwell:
Another! and a braver man

Was never seen in battle's van.
We Moslem reck not much of blood;
But yet the line of Carasman
Unchanged, unchangeable hath stood
First of the bold Timariot bands
That won and well can keep their lands.
Enough that he who comes to woo
His years need scarce a thought employ:
Is kinsman of the Bey Oglou:
I would not have thee wed a boy.
And thou shalt have a noble dower:
And his and my united power
Will laugh to scorn the death-firman,
Which others tremble but to scan,
And teach the messenger what fate
The bearer of such boon may wait.
And now thou knowst thy father's will;
All that thy sex hath need to know:
Twas mine to teach obedience still-
The way to love, thy lord may show.'

In silence bow'd the virgin's head;
That stifled feeling dare not shed,
And if her eye was fill'd with tears
And changed her cheek from pale to red
And red to pale, as through her ears
What could such be but maiden-fears?
Those winged words like arrows sped,
So bright the tear in Beauty's eye,
Love half regrets to kiss it dry;
So sweet the blush of Bashfulness,
Even Pity scarce can wish it less!
Whate'er it was the sire forgot,
Or if remember'd, mark'd it not;
Thrice clapp'd his hands, and call'd
steed,
Resign'd his gem-adorn'd Chibouque,
And mounting featly for the mead,
With Mangrabee and Mamaluke,
His way amid his Delis took,
To witness many an active deed

With sabre keen, or blunt jereed.
The Kislar only and his Moors
Watch well the Haram's massy doors.

His head was leant upon his hand,
His eye look'd o'er the dark blue water
That swiftly glides and gently swells
Between the winding Dardanelles ;
But yet he saw nor sea nor strand

or even his Pacha's turban'd band
Mix in the game of mimic slaughter,
Careering cleave the folded felt
With sabre-stroke right sharply dealt;
Nor mark'd the javelin-darting crowd,
Nor beard their Ollahs wild and loud-
He thought but of old Giaffir's daughter!

No word from Selim's bosom broke; One sigh Zuleika's thought bespoke:

gazed he through the lattice grate, mute, and mournfully sedate. Thim Zuleika's eye was turn'd, tittle from his aspect learn'd: Lal her grief, yet not the same; br heart confess'd a gentler flame: yet that heart alarm'd or weak, knew not why, forbade to speak. I peak she must-but when essay ? strange he thus should turn away! thus we e'er before have met; has shall be our parting yet." arice paced she slowly through the room, and watch'd his eye-it still was fix'd: Veatch'd the urn wherein was mix'd Persian Atar-gul's perfume,

kad sprinkled all its odours o'er pictured roof and marble floor:

And knowst thou not who loves thee best?
Oh, Selim dear! Oh, more than dearest!
Say, is it me thou hat'st or fearest?
Come, lay thy head upon my breast,
And I will kiss thee into rest,

Since words of mine, and songs must fail
Even from my fabled nightingale.
I knew our sire at times was stern,
But this from thee had yet to learn:
Too well I know he loves thee not;
But is Zuleika's love forgot?
Ah! deem I right? the Pacha's plan-
This kinsman Bey of Carasman
Perhaps may prove some foe of thine.
If so, I swear by Mecca's shrine,
If shrines that ne'er approach allow
To woman's step admit her vow,
Without thy free consent, command,
The Sultan should not have my hand!
Think'st thou that I could bear to part
With thee, and learn to halve my heart?
Ah! were I sever'd from thy side,

Where were thy friend-and who my guide?
Years have not seen, Time shall not see
The hour that tears my soul from thee:
Even Azrael, from his deadly quiver
When flies that shaft, and fly it must,
That parts all else, shall doom for ever
Our hearts to undivided dust!"

He lived-he breathed-he moved-he

felt;

He raised the maid from where she knelt:

His trance was gone-his keen eye shone
With thoughts that long in darkness dwelt;
With thoughts that burn-in rays that melt.
As the stream late conceal'd
By the fringe of its willows,
When it rushes reveal'd

trops, that through his glittering vest In the light of its billows;

Tayful girl's appeal addrest,

ded o'er his bosom flew, that breast were marble too. at allen yet? it must not beeatle Selim, this from thee!" sin curious order set The rest flowers of Eastern land hered them once; may touch them yet, dat by Zuleika's hand." The childish thought was hardly breathed Bre the rose was pluck'd and wreathed; The next fond moment saw her seat Bairy form at Selim's feet:

The rose to calm my brother's cares
wage from the Bulbul bears;
tay to-night he will prolong

lim's ear his sweetest song;
hat though his note is somewhat sad,
try for once a strain more glad,
some faint hope his alter'd lay
Masing these gloomy thoughts away.

What! not receive my foolish flower? ay then I am indeed unblest: me can thus thy forehead lower?

As the bolt bursts on high

From the black cloud that bound it,
Flash'd the soul of that eye
Through the long lashes round it.
A warhorse at the trumpet's sound,
A lion roused by heedless hound
A tyrant waked to sudden strife
By graze of ill-directed knife,
Starts not to more convulsive life

And all, before repress'd, betray'd:
Than he, who heard that vow, display'd,
"Now thou art mine, for ever mine,
With life to keep, and scarce with life resign;
Now thou art mine, that sacred oath,
Though sworn by one, hath bound us both.
Yes, fondly, wisely hast thou done;
That vow hath saved more heads than one:
But blench not thou-thy simplest tress
Claims more from me than tenderness;
I would not wrong the slenderest hair
That clusters round thy forehead fair,
For all the treasures buried far
Within the caves of Istakar.
This morning clouds upon me lower'd,
Reproaches on my head were shower'd,

And Giaffir almost call'd me coward!
Now I have motive to be brave;
The son of his neglected slave,
Nay, start not, 'twas the term he gave,
May show, though little apt to vaunt,
A heart his words nor deeds can daunt.
His son, indeed!-yet, thanks to thee,
Perchance I am, at least shall be;
But let our plighted secret vow
Be only known to us as now.

I know the wretch who dares demand
From Giaffir thy reluctant hand;
More ill-got wealth, a meaner soul
Holds not a Musselim's control:
Was he not bred in Egripo?
A viler race let Israel show!
But let that pass-to none be told
Our oath; the rest shall time unfold.
To me and mine leave Osman Bey;
I've partizans for peril's day:
Think not I am what I appear;
I've arms, and friends, and vengeance near."

"Think not thou art what thou appearest!
My Selim, thou art sadly changed:
This morn I saw thee gentlest, dearest;
But now thou'rt from thyself estranged.
My love thou surely knewst before,
It ne'er was less, nor can be more.
To see thee, hear thee, near thee stay,
And hate the night I know not why,
Save that we meet not but by day;
With thee to live, with thee to die,
I dare not to my hope deny:
Thy cheek, thine eyes, thy lips to kiss,
Like this-and this-no more than this;
For, Alla! sure thy lips are flame:
What fever in thy veins is flushing?
My own have nearly caught the same,
At least I feel my cheek too blushing.
To soothe thy sickness, watch thy health,
Partake, but never waste thy wealth,
Or stand with smiles unmurmuring by,
And lighten half thy poverty;
Do all but close thy dying eye,
For that I could not live to try;
To these alone my thoughts aspire:
More can I do? or thou require?
But, Selim, thou must answer why
We need so much of mystery?
The cause I cannot dream nor tell,
But be it, since thou say'st 'tis well;
Yet what thou meanst by "arms"
"friends,"

"and

Beyond my weaker sense extends.
I meant that Giaffir should have heard
The very vow I plighted thee;
His wrath would not revoke my word:
But surely he would leave me free.
Can this fond wish seem strange in me,
To be what I have ever been?
What other hath Zuleika seen
From simple childhood's earliest hour?
What other can she seek to see
Than thee, companion of her bower,

The partner of her infancy?
These cherish'd thoughts with life begun,
Say, why must I no more avow?
What change is wrought to make me shu
The truth; my pride, and thine till now
To meet the gaze of stranger's eyes
Our law, our creed, our God denies;
Nor shall one wandering thought of mine
At such, our Prophet's will, repine:
No! happier made by that decree!
He left me all in leaving thee.
Deep were my anguish, thus compell'd
To wed with one I ne'er beheld:
This wherefore should I not reveal?
Why wilt thou urge me to conceal?
I know the Pacha's haughty mood
To thee hath never boded good;
And he so often storms at nought,
Allah! forbid that e'er he ought!
And why I know not, but within
My heart concealment weighs like sin.
If then such secrecy be crime,
And such it feels while lurking here,
Oh, Selim! tell me yet in time,
Nor leave me thus to thoughts of fear.
Ah! yonder see the Tchocadar,
My father leaves the mimic war;
I tremble now to meet his eye-
Say, Selim, canst thou tell me why?'

"Zuleika! to thy tower's retreat Betake thee-Giaffir I can greet: And now with him I fain must prate Of firmans, imposts, levies, state. There's fearful news from Danube's bank Our Vizier nobly thius his ranks, For which the Giaour may give him thank Our Sultan hath a shorter way Such costly triumph to repay. Hath warn'd the troops to food and sleep But, mark me, when the twilight-drum Unto thy cell will Selim come: Then softly from the Haram creep Where we may wander by the deep: Our garden-battlements are steep, Nor these will rash intruder climb To list our words, or stint our time, And if he doth, I want not steel Which some have felt, and more may fe Then shalt thou learn of Selim more Than thou hast heard or thought before; Trust me, Zuleika --fear not me! Thou knowst I hold a Haram-key.”

"Fear thee, my Selim! ne'er till now Did word like this-"

"Delay not thou, I keep the key-and Haroun's guard Have some, and hope of more reward. To-night, Zuleika, thou shalt hear My tale, my purpose, and my fear: I am not, love! what I appear.”

CANTO II.

The winds are high on Helle's wave, As on that night of stormy water When Love, who sent, forgot to save The young, the beautiful, the brave, The lonely hope of Sestos' daughter. Oh! when alone along the sky Her turret-torch was blazing high, Though rising gale, and breaking foam, And shrieking sea-birds warn'd him home, And clouds aloft and tides below, With signs and sounds forbade to go, He could not see, he would not hear Or sound or sign foreboding fear; His eye but saw that light of love, The only star it hail'd above, His ear but rang with Hero's song, Te waves, divide not lovers long!"That tale is old, but love anew

May nerve young hearts to prove as true.

The winds are high, and Helle's tide Bells darkly heaving to the main; And Night's descending shadows hide The field with blood bedew'd in vain, The desert of old Priam's pride; The tombs, sole relics of his reign, -save immortal dreams that could beguile

The blind old man of Scio's rocky isle!

Oh! yet-for there my steps have been; These feet have press'd the sacred shore,

Till then-no beacon on the cliff
May shape the course of struggling skiff;
The scatter'd lights that skirt the bay,
All, one by one, have died away;
The only lamp of this lone hour
Is glimmering in Zuleika's tower.

Yes! there is light in that lone chamber,
And o'er her silken Ottoman
Are thrown the fragrant beads of amber,
O'er which her fairy fingers ran;
Near these, with emerald-rays beset,
(How could she thus that gem forget?)
Her mother's sainted amulet,

Whereon engraved the Koorsee text,
Could smooth this life, and win the next;
And by her Comboloio lies

A Koran of illumined dyes;

And many a bright emblazon'd rhyme
By Persian scribes redeem'd from time;
And o'er those scrolls, not oft so mute,
Reclines her now neglected lute;
And round her lamp of fretted gold
Bloom flowers in urns of China's mould;
The richest work of Iran's loom,
And Sheeraz' tribute of perfume;
All that can eye or sense delight
Are gather'd in that gorgeous room:
But yet it hath an air of gloom.
She, of this Peri-cell the sprite,
What doth she hence, and on so rude a night?

Wrapt in the darkest sable vest, Which none save noblest Moslem wear,

The limbs that buoyant wave hath borne-To guard from winds of heaven the breast

trel! with thee to muse, to mourn,

trace again those fields of yore,

ving every hillock green

Trains no fabled hero's ashes,

And that around the undoubted scene
Thise own "broad Hellespont " still dashes,
Beleg my lot! and cold were he

there could gaze denying thee!

The night hath closed on Helle's stream, yet hath risen on Ida's hill Tad moon, which shone on his high theme:

varrior chides her peaceful beam, Bt conscious shepherds bless it still. Their flocks are grazing on the mound him who felt the Dardan's arrow : That mighty heap of gather'd ground Which Ammon's son ran proudly round, Bnations raised, by monarchs crown'd, by a lone and nameless barrow! hin-thy dwelling-place how narrow! nt-can only strangers breathe The name of him that was beneath: Du long outlasts the storied stone; Pat Thon-thy very dust is gone!

Late, late to-night will Dian cheer The swain, and chase the boatman's fear;

As heaven itself to Selim dear,

With cautious steps the thicket threading,
And starting oft, as through the glade
The gust its hollow moanings made,
Till on the smoother pathway treading,
More free her timid bosom beat,
The maid pursued her silent guide;
And though her terror urged retreat
How could she quit her Selim's side?
How teach her tender lips to chide?

They reach'd at length a grotto, hewn By nature, but enlarged by art, Where oft her lute she wont to tune And oft her Koran conn'd apart; And oft in youthful reverie She dream'd what Paradise might be: Where woman's parted soul shall go Her Prophet had disdain'd to show; But Selim's mansion was secure, Nor deem'd she, could he long endure His bower in other worlds of bliss, Without her, most beloved in this! Oh! who so dear with him could dwell? What Houri soothe him half so well?

Since last she visited the spot Some change seem'd wrought within the grot:

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