BRIDE OF ABYDOS.

A TURKISH TALE.

BY LORD BYRON.

"Had we never loved so kindly,
Had we never loved so blindly,
Never met, or never parted,

We had ne'er been broken-hearted."-Burns.

LONDON:

PRINTED FOR THOMAS WILSON, OXFORD STREET,

AND SOLD BY ALL BOOKSELLERS.

1825.

THE

BRIDE OF ABYDOS.

CANTO I.

I.

KNOW ye the land where the cypress and myrtle
Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime;
Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle,
Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime?
Know ye the land of the cedar and vine,

Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine; Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppress'd with perfume,

T

Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gul (1) in her bloom;
Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit,
And the voice of the nightingale never is mute;
Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky,
In colour though varied, in beauty may vie,
And the purple of Ocean is deepest in dye;
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 SunCan he smile on such deeds as his children have

done? (2)

Oh! wild as the accents of lovers' farewell

Are the hearts which they bear, and the tales which

they tell.

II.

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 sat in his divan:

Deep thought was in his aged eye;
And though the face of Mussulman
Not oft betrays to standers by
The mind within, well skill'd to hide
All but unconquerable pride,

His pensive cheek and pondering brow

Did more than he was wont avow.

III.

"Let the chamber be clear'd."-The train disap

pear'd.

"Now call me the chief of the Haram guard."
With Giaffic is none but his only son,

And the Nubian awaiting the sire's award.
"Haroun when all the crowd that wait
Are pass'd beyond the outer gate,
(Woe to the head whose eye beheld

My child Zuleika's face unveil'd!) son nila a
Hence, lead my daughter from her tower;
Her fate is fix'd this very hours olla vafo a
Yet not to her repeat my thought;
By me alone be duty taught !"

"Pachal to hear is to obey.”ar
No more must slave to despot say—
Then to the tower had ta’en his way;
But here young Selim silence brake,

First lowly rendering reverence meet;
And downcast look'd, and gently spake,
Still standing at the Pacha's feet: