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It might be only that the night
Disguised things seen by better light:
That brazen lamp but dimly threw
A ray of no celestial hue;
But in a nook within the cell
Her eye on stranger objects fell.
There arms were piled, not such as wield
The turban'd Delis in the field;
But brands of foreign blade and hilt,
And one was red--perchance with guilt!
Ah! how without can blood he spilt?
A cup too on the board was set
That did not seem to hold sherbet.
What may this mean? she turn'd to see
Her Selim-"Oh! can this be he?"

His robe of pride was thrown aside, His brow no high-crown'd turban bore, But in its stead a shawl of red, Wreathed lightly round, his temples wore : That dagger, on whose hilt the gem Were worthy of a diadem, No longer glitter'd at his waist, Where pistols unadorn'd were braced; And from his belt a sabre swung, And from his shoulder loosely hung The cloak of white, the thin capote That decks the wandering Candiote: Beneath his golden plated vest Clung like a cuirass to his breast; The greaves below his knee that wound With silvery scales were sheathed and bound. But were it not that high command Spake in his eye, and tone, and hand, All that a careless eye could see In him was some young Galiongée.

"I said I was not what I seem'd; And now thou seest my words were true: I have a tale thou hast not dream'd, If sooth-its truth must others rue. My story now 'twere vain to hide, I must not see thee Osman's bride : But had not thine own lips declared How much of that young heart I shared, I could not, must not, yet have shown The darker secret of my own. In this I speak not now of love; That, let time, truth, and peril prove: But first-Oh! never wed anotherZuleika! I am not thy brother!"

"Oh! not my brother!-yet unsayGod! am I left alone on earth To mourn-I dare not curse-the day That saw my solitary birth? Oh! thou wilt love me now no more! My sinking heart foreboded ill; But know me all I was before, Thy sister-friend-Zuleika still. Thou ledst me here perchance to kill; If thou hast cause for vengeance, see! My breast is offer'd-take thy fill! Far better with the dead to be

Than live thus nothing now to thee;
Perhaps far worse, for now I know
Why Giaffir always seem'd thy foe;
And I, alas! am Giaffir's child,
For whom thou wert contemn'd, reviled.
If not thy sister-wouldst thou save
My life, oh! bid me be thy slave!"

"My slave Zuleika!-nay, I'm thine: But, gentle love, this transport calm, Thy lot shall yet be link'd with mine; I swear it by our Prophet's shrine, And be that thought thy sorrow's balm. So may the Koran-verse display'd Upon its steel direct my blade, In danger's hour to guard us both, As I preserve that awful oath! The name in which thy heart hath pride Must change; but, my Zuleika, know, That tie is widen'd, not divided, Although thy Sire's my deadliest for. My Father was to Giaffir all That Selim late was deem'd to thee; That brother wrought a brother's fall, But spared, at least, my infancy; And full'd me with a vain deceit That yet a like return may meet. He rear'd me, not with tender help, But like the nephew of a Cain; He watch'd me like a lion's whelp, That gnaws and yet may break his chain My father's blood in every vein Is boiling; but for thy dear sake No present vengeance will I take; Though here I must no more remain. But first, beloved Zuleika! hear How Giaffir wrought this deed of fear.

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"When Paswan, after years of strife,
At last for power, but first for life,
In Widin's walls too proudly sate,
Our Pachas rallied round the state;
Nor last nor least in high command
Each brother led a separate band;
They gave their horsetails to the wind,
And mustering in Sophia's plain
Their tents were pitch'd, their post assign't
To one, alas! assign'd in vain!
What need of words? the deadly bowl,
By Giaffir's order drugg'd and given,
With venom subtle as his sonl,

Dismiss'd Abdallah's hence to heaven.
Reclined and feverish in the bath,

He. when the hunter's sport was up,
But little deem'd a brother's wrath
To quench his thirst had such a cup:
The bowl a bribed attendant bore;

He drank one draught, nor needed more!
If thou my tale, Zuleika, doubt,
Call Haroun-he can tell it out.

The deed once done, and Paswan's feud
In part suppress'd though ne'er subdued,
Abdallah's Pachalick was gain'd:—
Thou know'st not what in our Divan
Can wealth procure for worse than man--
Abdallah's honours were obtain'd
By him a brother's murder stain'd;
Tis true, the purchase nearly drain’d
His ill got treasure, soon replaced,
Wouldst question whence?Survey the waste,
And ask the squalid peasant how
His gains repay his broiling brow!-
Why me the stern usurper spared,
Why thus with me his palace shared,
new not. Shame, regret, remorse,
And little fear from infant's force;
Besides, adoption as a son

him whom Heaven accorded none,
fr some unknown cabal, caprice,
bserved me thus ;-but not in peace:
cannot curb his haughty mood,
I forgive a father's blood.

Within thy father's house are foes;
At all who break his bread are true:
To these should I my birth disclose,
He days, his very hours were few.
They only want a heart to lead,
hand to point them to the deed.
Haroun only knows, or knew
This tale, whose close is almost nigh:
Abdallah's palace grew,
held that post in his Serai
Bach holds he here--he saw him die:
what could single slavery do?
Avenge his lord! alas! too late :

ave his son from such a fate?

chose the last, and when elate
With foes subdued, or friends betray'd,
Pond Giaffir in high triumph sate,
He led me helpless to his gate,
And not in vain it seems essay'd

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save the life for which he pray'd. The knowledge of my birth secured From all and each, but most from me; Ta Giaffir's safety was ensured. moved he too from Roumelie 1 this our Asiatic side, Fu from our seats by Danube's tide,

none but Haroun, who retains h knowledge--and that Nubian feels Ayrant's secrets are but chains From which the captive gladly steals, ad this and more to me reveals: Sh still to guilt just Alla sends Naves, tools, accomplices-no friends!

"All this, Zuleika, harshly sounds;
But harsher still my tale must be:
Howe'er my tongue thy softness wounds,
Yet I must prove all truth to thee.
I saw thee start this garb to see,
Yet it is one I oft have worn,
And long must wear: this Galiongee,
To whom thy plighted vow is sworn,
Is leader of those pirate-hordes,
Whose laws and lives are on their swords;
To hear whose desolating tale
Would make thy waning cheek more pale:
Those arms thou seest my band have
brought,

The hands that wield are not remote;
This cup too for the rugged knaves
Is fill'd-once quaff'd, they ne'er repine:
Our Prophet might forgive the slaves;
They're only infidels in wine.

"What could I be? Proscribed at home, And taunted to a wish to roam; And listless left-for Giaffir's fear Denied the courser and the spearThough oft-Oh, Mahomet! how oft! In full Divan the despot scoff'd, As if my weak unwilling hand Refused the bridle or the brand: He ever went to war alone, And pent me here untried, unknown; To Haroun's care with women left, By hope unblest, of fame bereft. While thou-whose softness long endear'd, Though it unmann'd me, still had cheer'd-To Brusa's walls for safety sent, Awaitedst there the field's event. Haroun, who saw my spirit pining Beneath inaction's sluggish yoke, His captive, though with dread, resigning, My thraldom for a season broke, On promise to return before The day when Giaffir's charge was o'er. Tis vain-my tongue can not impart My almost drunkenness of heart, When first this liberated eye Survey'd Earth, Ocean, Sun and Sky, As if my spirit pierced them through, And all their inmost wonders knew! One word alone can paint to thee That more than feeling-I was Free! E'en for thy presence ceased to pine; The World nay Heaven itself was mine!

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"Tis true, they are a lawless brood,
But rough in form, nor mild in mood;
And every creed, and every race,
With them hath found-may find a place:
But open speech, and ready hand,
Obedience to their chief's command,
A soul for every enterprize,
That never sees with terror's eyes,
Friendship for each, and faith to all,
And vengeance vow'd for those who fall,
Have made them fitting instruments
For more than even my own intents.
And some and I have studied all
Distinguish'd from the vulgar rank,
But chiefly to my council call

The wisdom of the cautious Frank-
And some to higher thoughts aspire,
The last of Lambro's patriots there
Anticipated freedom share;

And oft around the cavern-fire
On visionary schemes debate,

To snatch the Rayahs from their fate.
So let them ease their hearts with prate
Of equal rights, which man ne'er knew ;
I have a love for freedom too.
Ay! let me like the Ocean-Patriarch roam,
Or only know on land the Tartar's home!
My tent on shore, my galley on the sea,
Are more than cities and Serais to me:
Borne by my steed, or wafted by my sail,
Across the desert, or before the gale,
Bound where thou wilt, my barb! or glide,
my prow!

But be the star that guides the wanderer,
Thou!

Thou my Zuleika, share and bless my bark; The Dove of peace and promise to mine ark! Or, since that hope denied in worlds of strife, Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life! The evening-beam that smiles the clouds

away,

And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray! Blest—as the Muezzin's strain from Mecca's wall

To pilgrims pure and prostrate at his call: Soft-as the melody of youthful days, That steals the trembling tear of speechless praise;

Dear as his native song to Exile's ears, Shall sound each tone thy long-loved voice endears,

For thee in those bright isles is built a bower
Blooming as Aden in its earliest hour.
A thousand swords, with Selim's heart and
hand,

Wait - wave - defend - destroy

at thy

command! Girt by my band, Zuleika at my side, The spoil of nations shall bedeck my bride. The Haram's languid years of listless ease Are well resign'd for cares for joys like

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Though fortune frown, or falser frien betray.

How dear the dream in darkest hours of i Should all be changed, to find thee faithf still!

Be but thy soul, like Selim's, firmly show To thee be Selim's tender as thine own: To soothe each sorrow,share in each delig Blend every thought, do all-but disunit Once free, 'tis mine our horde again to guid Friends to each other, foes to aught besid Yet there we follow but the bent assign By fatal nature to man's warring kind: Mark! where his carnage and his conque cease!

He makes a solitude, and calls it-peac I like the rest must use my skill or streng But ask no land beyond my sabre's lengt Power sways but by division-her resou The blest alternative of fraud or force! Ours be the last; in time deceit may con When cities cage us in a social home: There even thy soul might err-how the heart

Corruption shakes which peril could part!

And woman, more than man, when dea

or woe

Or even Disgrace would lay her lover lo Sunk in the lap of Luxury will shameAway suspicion!—not Zuleika's name! But life is hazard at the best; and here No more remains to win, and much to fe Yes, fear!—the doubt, the dread of losi thee,

By Osman's power and Giaffir's stern decr That dread shall vanish with the favouri gale, Which Love to-night hath promised to 1 sail:

No danger daunts the pair his smile ha blest, Their steps still roving, but their hea

at rest.

With thee all toils are sweet, each cli hath charms; Earth-sea alike—our world within arms! Ay-let the loud winds whistle o'er the dec So that those arms cling closer round u

neck:

The deepest murmur of this lip shall be
No sigh for safety, but a prayer for the
The war of elements no fears impart
To love, whose deadliest bane is human Ar
There lie the only rocks our course can chec
Here moments menace- there are years
wreck!

But hence ye thoughts that rise in Horror shape!

This hour bestows, or ever bars escape. Few words remain of mine my tale to close Of thine but one to waft us from our foc Yea-foes-to me will Giaffir's hate decline And is not Osman, who would part us, thin

**His head and faith from doubt and death | Farewell, Zuleika!-Sweet! retire:
Beturn'd in time my guard to save;
Fes heard, none told, that o'er the wave
Fram isle to isle I roved the while:

1

And since, though parted from my band
Too seldom now I leave the land,

No deed they've done, nor deed shall do,
Ere I have heard and doom'd it too:
I form the plan, decree the spoil,
Tis fit I oftener share the toil.

But now too long I've held thine ear;
Time presses, floats my bark, and here
We leave behind but hate and fear.
To-morrow Osman with his train
Arrives-to-night must break thy chain:
And wouldst thou save that haughty Bey,
Perchance his life who gave thee thine,
With me this hour away-away!
But yet though thou art plighted mine,
Wouldst thou recal thy willing vow,
Appall'd by truths imparted now,
Here rest I-not to see thee wed:
But be that peril on my head!”

Zeleika, mute and motionless, Sod like that statue of distress, Then her last hope for ever gone, mother harden'd into stone; the maid that eye could see Ja but a younger Niobé. Bere her lip, or even her eye, Ly'd to speak, or look reply, Bath the garden's wicket porch fur flash'd on high a blazing torch! Another and another—and anothery-no more—yet now my more than brother!"

Ob! fy-no

F. wide, through every thicket spread,
The fearful lights are gleaming red;

these alone for each right hand
lady with a sheathless brand.
They part, pursue, return, and wheel
With searching flambeau, shining steel;
And last of all, his sabre waving,
Norm Giaffir in his fury raving:

now almost they touch the cave—
must that grot be Selim's grave?

Dauntless he stood-"Tis come-soon past

One kiss, Zuleika-'tis my last: But yet my band not far from shore My hear this signal, see the flash; ow too few-the attempt were rash : atter-yet one effort more." Farh to the cavern-mouth he stept; pistol's echo rang on high. Zabika started not, nor wept, Despair benumb'd her breast and eye!— "They hear me not, or if they ply Their ears, 'tis but to see me die; Then forth my father's scimitar, That sound bath drawn my focs more nigh. Thon ne'er hast seen less equal war!

Yet stay within-here linger safe,
At thee his rage will only chafe.
Stir not-lest even to thee perchance
Some erring blade or ball should glance.
Fear'st thou for him?-may I expire
If in this strife I seek thy sire!
No-though by him that poison pour'd;
No-though again he call me coward!
But tamely shall I meet their steel?
No-as each crest save his may feel!"

One bound he made, and gain'd the sand : Already at his feet hath sunk The foremost of the prying band, A gasping head, a quivering trunk: Another falls-but round him close A swarming circle of his foes; From right to left his path he cleft, And almost met the meeting wave: His boat appears-not five oars' lengthHis comrades strain with desperate strength. Oh! are they yet in time to save? His feet the foremost breakers lave; His band are plunging in the bay, Their sabres glitter through the spray; Wet-wild-unwearied to the strand They struggle-now they touch the land! They come 'tis but to add to slaughterHis heart's best blood is on the water!

Escaped from shot, unharm'd by steel, Or scarcely grazed it's force to feel, Had Selim won, betray'd, beset, To where the strand and billows met: There as his last step left the land, And the last death-blow dealt his handAh! wherefore did he turn to look For her his eye but sought in vain? That pause, that fatal gaze he took, Hath doom'd his death, or fix'd his chain. Sad proof, in peril and in pain, How late will Lover's hope remain! His back was to the dashing spray, Behind, but close, his comrades lay, When, at the instant, hiss'd the ball"So may the foes of Giaffir fall!" Whose voice is heard? whose carbine rang? Whose bullet through the night-air sang, Too nearly, deadly aim'd to err? Tis thine-Abdallah's Murderer! The father slowly rued thy hate, The son hath found a quicker fate: Fast from his breast the blood is bubbling, The whiteness of the sea-foam troubling. If aught his lips essay'd to groan, The rushing billows choak'd the tone!

Morn slowly rolls the clouds away; Few trophies of the fight are there: The shouts that shook the midnight-bay Are silent; but some signs of fray That strand of strife may bear, And fragments of each shiver'd brand;

Steps stamp'd; and dash'd into the sand
The print of many a struggling hand
May there be mark'd; nor far remote
A broken torch, an oarless boat;
And tangled on the weeds that heap
The beach where shelving to thee deep
There lies a white Capote!

'Tis rent in twain-one dark-red stain
The wave yet ripples o'er in vain:
But where is he who wore?
Ye! who would o'er his relics weep
Go, seek them where the surges sweep
Their burthen round Sigæum's steep
And cast on Lemnos' shore:

The sea-birds shriek above the prey,
O'er which their hungry beaks delay,
As shaken on his restless pillow,

His head heaves with the heaving billow;
That hand, whose motion is not life,
Yet feebly seems to menace strife,
Flung by the tossing tide on high,
Then levell'd with the wave-

Thought of the gloomy day and ghast
night,
That dreads the darkness, and yet loath
the light,

That winds around, and tears the quiveri
heart!

Ah! wherefore not consume it - and depar
Woe to thee, rash and unrelenting chief
Vainly thou heap'st the dust upon thy hea
Vainly the sackcloth o'er thy limbs do
spread:

By that same hand Abdallah - Selim ble
Now let it tear thy beard in idle grief:
Thy pride of heart, thy bride for Osman
bed,

She, whom thy sultan had but seen
wed,

Thy Daughter's dead!

Hope of thine age, thy twilight's lone beam,

The Star hath set that shone on Hell stream.

What recks it, though that corse shall lie What quench'd its rays? the blood th

Within a living grave?

The bird that tears that prostrate form

Hath only robb'd the meaner worm;

The only heart, the only eye

Had bled or wept to see him die,

Had seen those scatter'd limbs composed,

And mourn'd above his turban-stone,

thou hast shed! Hark! to the hurried question of Despai "Where is my child?" an Echo answers "Where?"

Within the place of thousand tombs
That shine beneath, while dark above

That heart hath burst-that eye was closed-The sad but living cypress glooms
Yea-closed before his own!

By Helle's stream there is a voice of wail!
And woman's eye is wet-man's cheek is pale:
Zuleika! last of Giaffir's race,
Thy destined lord is come too late;
He sees not ne'er shall see thy face!
Can he not hear

The loud Wal-wulleh warn his distant ear?
Thy handmaids weeping at the gate,

The Koran-chanters of the hymn of fate,
The silent slaves with folded arms that wait,
Sighs in the hall, and shrieks upon the gale,
Tell him thy tale!

Thou didst not view thy Selim fall!
That fearful moment when he left the cave
Thy heart grew chill:

He was thy hope- thy joy-thy love-thine
all -

And that last thought on him thou couldst

Sufficed to kill;

not save

Burst forth in one wild cry-and all was still.
Peace to thy broken heart, and virgin-grave!
Ah! happy! but of life to lose the worst!
That grief- though deep-though fatal-
was thy first!

Thrice happy! ne'er to feel nor fear the force
Of absence, shame, pride, hate, revenge,
remorse!

And, oh! that pang where more than Madness lies!

|

|

And withers not, though branch and lea
Are stamp'd with an eternal grief,
Like early unrequited Love,
One spot exists, which ever blooms,
Even in that deadly grove -
A single rose is shedding there
It's lonely lustre, meek and pale:
It looks as planted by Despair-
So white-so faint- the slightest gale
Might whirl the leaves on high;
And yet, though storms and blight ass
And hands more rude than wintry sky
May wring it from the stem -- in vain --
To-morrow sees it bloom again!
The stalk some spirit gently rears,
And waters with celestial tears;
For well may maids of Helle deem
That this can be no earthly flower,
Which mocks the tempest's withering ho
And buds unshelter'd by a bower;
Nordroops, though spring refuse her show
Nor woos the summer-beam:
To it the livelong night there sings
A bird unseen-but not remote:
Invisible his airy wings,

But soft as harp that Houri strings
His long entrancing note!

| It were the Bulbul; but his throat,
Though mournful, pours not such a strai
For they who listen cannot leave
The spot, but linger there and grieve
As if they loved in vain!

The worm that will not sleep— and never | And yet so sweet the tears they shed,

dies;

Tis sorrow so unmix'd with dread,

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