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Who that beheld that Sun upon thee set, 1230
Fair Athens ! could thine evening face forget?
Not he—whose heart nor time nor distance frees,
Spell-bound within the clustering Cyclades!
Nor seems this homage foreign to his strain,
His Corsair's isle was once thine own domain
Would that with freedom it were thine again!

III.

The Sun hath sunk—and, darker than the night, Sinks with its beam upon the beacon heightMedora's heart—the third day's come and goneWith it he comes not-sends not-faithless one! The wind was fair though light; and storms were

none.

1241

Last eve Anselmo's bark returned, and yet
His only tidings that they had not met!
Though wild, as now, far different were the tale
Had Conrad waited for that single sail.

The night breeze freshens-she that day had past
In watching all that Hope proclaimed a mast;
Sadly she satemon high-Impatience bore
At last her footsteps to the midnight shore,
And there she wandered heedless of the spray 1250
That dashed her garments oft, and warned away:
She saw not-felt not this_nor dared depart,
Nor deemed it cold-her chill was at her heart;
Till grew such certainty from that suspense
His very Sight had shocked from life or sense!

It came at last--a sad and shattered boat,
Whose inmates first beheld whom first they sought;
Some bleeding-all most wretched-these the few-
Scarce knew they how escaped--this all they knew.
In silence, darkling, each appeared to wait 1260
His fellow's mournful guess at Conrad's fate :
Something they would have said; but seemed to fear
To trust their accents to Medora's ear.

She saw at once, yet sunk not-trembled not~
Beneath that grief, that loneliness of lot,
Within that meek fair form, were feelings high,
That deemed not till they found their energy.
While yet was Hope-they softened—Aluttered-

weptAll lost—that softness died not—but it slept; And o’er its slumber rose that Strength which said, “ With nothing left to love-there's nought to dread.”

1271 'Tis more than nature's; like the burning might Delirium gathers from the fever's height.

" Silent you

stand-nor would I hear you tell What-speak not-breathe not-for I know it

well“ Yet would I ask—almost my lip denies The-quick your answer-tell me where he lies ?"

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Lady! we know not-scarce with life we fled; “ But here is one denies that he is dead : 1279 “He saw him bound; and bleeding—but alive."

She heard no further—'twas in vain to strive-
So throbbed each vein-each thought-till then

withstood;
Her own dark soul-these words at once subdued :
She totters-falls-and senseless had the wave
Perchance but snatched her from another grave;
But that with hands though rude, yet weeping eyes,
They yield such aid as Pity's haste supplies :
Dash o'er her deathlike cheek the ocean dew,
Raise-fan-sustain-till life returns anew; 1289
Awake her handmaids, with the matrons leave
That fainting form o'er which they gaze and grieve;
Then seek Anselmo's cavern, to report
The tale too tedious-when the triumph short.

IV. In that wild council words waxed warm and strange, With thoughts of ransom, rescue, and revenge ; All, save repose or flight: still lingering there Breathed Conrad's spirit, and forbade despair; Whate'er his fate--the breasts he formed and led, Will save him living, or appease him dead. Woe to his foes! there yet survive a few, 1300 Whose deeds are daring, as their hearts are true.

V.

Within the Haram's secret chamber sate

Stern Seyd, still pondering o'er his Captive's fate;
His thoughts on love and hate alternate dwell,
Now with Gulnare, and now in Conrad's cell;
Here at his feet the lovely slave reclined
Surveys his brow-would soothe his gloom of mind,
While many an anxious glance her large dark eye
Sends in its idle search for sympathy,

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