VII

"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; 200
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
Is kinsman of the Bey Oglou:

His years need scarce a thought employ;

210

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 know'st thy father's will;
All that thy sex hath need to know:
"T was mine to teach obedience still-
The way to love, thy lord may show.'

IX

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, Nor 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, 250 Nor heard their Ollahs wild and loud He thought but of old Giaffir's daughter!

X

No word from Selim's bosom broke; One sigh Zuleika's thought bespoke: Still gazed he through the lattice grate, Pale, mute, and mournfully sedate. To him Zuleika's eye was turn'd, But little from his aspect learn'd; Equal her grief, yet not the same; Her heart confess'd a gentler flame: 260 But yet that heart, alarm'd or weak, She knew not why, forbade to speak. Yet speak she must-but when essay? 'How strange he thus should turn away! Not thus we e'er before have met; Not thus shall be our parting yet.' Thrice paced she slowly through the room, And watch'd his eye-it still was fix'd: She snatch'd the urn wherein was mix'd The Persian Atar-gul's perfume, And sprinkled all its odours o'er The pictured roof and marble floor: The drops, that through his glittering

vest

The playful girl's appeal address'd, Unheeded o'er his bosom flew,

As if that breast were marble too. 'What, sullen yet? it must not be Oh! gentle Selim, this from thee!' She saw in curious order set

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279

The fairest flowers of eastern land'He loved them once; may touch them yet, If offer'd by Zuleika's hand.' The childish thought was hardly breathed

Before the Rose was pluck'd and wreathed;

The next fond moment saw her seat
Her fairy form at Selim's feet:
'This rose to calm my brother's cares
A message from the Bulbul bears;

300

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,
Ev'n 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?

310

320

When it rushes reveal'd

In the light of its billows; 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 war-horse at the trumpet's sound, 340 A lion roused by heedless hound, A tyrant waked to sudden strife By graze of ill-directed knife, Starts not to more convulsive life Than he, who heard that vow, display'd, And all, before repress'd, betray'd: 'Now thou art mine, for ever mine, With life to keep, and scarce with life resign;

351

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! 361
Now I have motive to be brave;
The son of his neglected slave, -
Nay, start not, 't was 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.

370

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 partisans for peril's day:
Think not I am what I appear;
I've arms, and friends, and vengeance

near.

XIII

380

'Think not thou art what thou appearest ! My Selim, thou art sadly changed:

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, 401 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 't is well; Yet what thou mean'st by "arms "friends,"

410

" 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,

420

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
shun

The truth; my pride, and thine till
now?

To meet the gaze of stranger's eyes
Our law, our creed, our God denies; 430
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.

460

Our Sultan hath a shorter way
Such costly triumph to repay.
But, mark me, when the twilight drum
Hath warn'd the troops to food and
sleep,

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 feel. Then shalt thou learn of Selim more Than thou hast heard or thought before: Trust me, Zuleika - fear not me! Thou know'st I hold a Haram key.'

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

470

'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.'

V

30

60

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

70

They reach'd at length a grotto, hewn 100
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 revery

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?

VIII

Since last she visited the spot

Some change seem'd wrought within the grot.

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.

120

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 be 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?'

IX

130

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.

140

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.

X

150

'I said I was not what I seem'd,
And now thou see'st my words were
true;

I have a tale thou hast not dream'd,
If sooth its truth must others rue.
My story now 't were 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 another-
Zuleika! I am not thy brother!'

XI

'Oh! not my brother!-yet unsay God! am I left alone on earth To mourn-I dare not curse

160

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,

170

Thy sister-friend- Zuleika still. Thou led'st 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!'

180