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Exists the remnant of a line

Such as the Doric mothers bore;
And there, perhaps, some seed is sown,
The Heracleidan blood might own.
Trust not for freedom to the Franks

They have a king who buys and sells ;
In native swords, and native ranks,

The only hope of courage dwells;
But Turkish force, and Latin fraud,
Would break your shield, however broad.
Fill high the bowl with Samian wine,

Our virgins dance beneath the shade
I see their glorious black eyes shine;

But gazing on each glowing maid,
My own the burning tear-drop laves,
To think such breasts must suckle slaves.
Place me on Sunium's marbled steep-

Where nothing, save the waves and I,
May hear our mutual murmurs sweep ;

There, swan-like, let me sing and die:
A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine-
Dash down yon cup of Samian wine !

When he was gone, there was a sudden change:

I know not what might be the lady's thought,
But o'er her bright brow flash'd a tumult strange,

And into her clear cheek the blood was brought, Blood-red as sun-set summer clouds which range

The verge of heaven; and in her large eyes wrought A mixture of sensations might be scanned, Of half voluptuousness and half command.

Her form had all the softness of her sex,

Her features all the sweetness of the devil, When he put on the cherub to perplex

Eve, and paved (God knows how) the road to evil; The sun himself was scarce more free from specks

Than she from aught at which the eye could cavil; Yet somehow there was something somewhere wanting, As if she rather order'd than was granting. Something imperial, or imperious, threw

A chain o'er all she did ; that is, a chain Was thrown as 'twere about the neck of you

And rapture's self will seem almost a pain
With aught which looks like despotism in view :

Our souls at least are free, and 'tis in vain
We would against them make the flesh obey-
The spirit in the end will have its way.
Her very smile was haughty, though so sweet ;

Her very nod was not an inclination ;
There was a self-will even in her small feet,

As though they were quite conscious of her stationThey trod as upon necks; and to complete

Her state, (it is the custom of her nation), A poniard deck'd her girdle, as the sign She was a sultan's bride, (thank Heaven, not mine.) “ To hear and to obey' had been from birth

The law of all around her; to fulfil All phantasies which yielded joy or mirth,

Had been her slaves' chief pleasure, as her will : Her blood was high, her beauty scarce of earth :

Judge, then, if her caprices e'er stood still : Had she but been a Christian, I've a notion We should have found out the “ perpetual motion.”

Whate'er she saw and coveted was brought;

Whate'er she did not see, if she supposed It might be seen, with diligence was sought,

And when 'twas found straightway the bargain There was no end unto the things she bought, (closed :

Nor to the trouble which her fancies caused;
Yet even her tyranny had such a grace,
The women pardon’d all except her face.


There, breathless, with his digging nails he clung

Fast to the sand, lest the returning wave, From whose reluctant roar his life he wrung,

Should suck him back to her insatiate grave : And there he lay, full length, where he was flung,

Before the entrance of a cliff-worn cave,
With just enough of life to feel its pain,
And deem that it was saved, perhaps in vain.
With slow and staggering effort he arose,

But sunk again upon his bleeding knee
And quivering hand; and then he look'd for those

Who long had been his mates upon the sea, But none of them appear'd to share his woes,

Save one, a corpse, from out the famish'd three, Who died two days before, and now had found An unknown barren beach for burial ground. And, as he gazed, his dizzy brain spun fast,

And down he sunk; and, as he sunk, the sand Swam round and round, and all his senses passed :

He fell upon his side, and his stretch'd hand Droop'd dripping on the oar (their jury mast),

And, like a wither'd lily, on the land His slender frame and pallid aspect lay, As fair a thing as e'er was form'd of clay.

How long in his damp trance young Juan lay

He knew not, for the earth was gone for him, And Time had nothing more of night nor day

For his congealing blood, and senses dim: And how this heavy faintness passed away

He knew not, till each painful pulse and limb, And tingling vein, seemed throbbing back to life, For death, though vanquish’d, still retired with strife. His eyes he open'd, shut, again unclosed,

For all was doubt and dizziness; he thought He still was in the boat, and had but dozed,

And felt again with his despair o'erwrought, And wish'd it death in which he had reposed,

And then once more his feelings back were brought, And slowly by his swimming eyes were seen A lovely female face of seventeen. 'Twas bending close o'er his, and the small mouth

Seem'd almost prying into his for breath; And chafing him, the soft warm hand of youth

Recall’d his answering spirits back from death ;
And, bathing his chill temples, tried to sooth

Each pulse to animation, till beneath
Its gentle touch and trembling care, a sigh
To these kind efforts made a low reply.
Then was the cordial pour'd, and mantle Aung

Around his scarce clad limbs; and the fair arm
Raised higher the faint head which o'er it hung;

And her transparent cheek, all pure and warm, Pillow'd his death-like forehead ; then she wrung

His dewy curls, long drench'd by every storm ; And watched with eagerness each throb that drew A sigh from his heaved bosom--and hers too.


And lifting him with care into the cave,

The gentle girl, and her attendant,Young, yet her elder, and of brow less grave,

And more robust of figure then begun To kindle fire, and as the new flames gave

Light to the rocks that roof'd them, which the sun Had never seen, the maid, or whatsoe’er She was, appear'd distinct, and tall, and fair. Her brow was overhung with coins of gold,

That sparkled o'er the auburn of her hair, Her clustering hair, whose longer locks were roll’d

In braids behind, and though her stature were
Even of the highest for a female mould,

They nearly reach'd her heel; and in her air
There was a something which bespoke command,
As one who was a lady in the land.
Her hair, I said, was auburn; but her eyes

Were black as death, their lashes the same hue,
Of downcast length, in whose silk shadow lies

Deepest attraction, for when to the view
Forth from its raven fringe the full glance flies, .

Ne'er with such force the swiftest arrow flew :
'Tis as the snake late coil'd, who pours his length,
And hurls at once his venom and his strength.
Her brow was white and low, her cheek's pure dye

Like twilight rosy still with the set sun; Short upper lip_sweet lips ! that make us sigh

Ever to have seen such ; for she was one Fit for the model of a statuary,

(A race of mere impostors, when all's doneI've seen much finer women, ripe and real, Than all the nonsense of their stone ideal.)

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