No matter where-their chief's allotment this; Would that, in turn, have pass'd untasted too; Earth's coarsest bread, the garden's homeliest roots, And scarce the summer luxury of fruits, His short repast in humbleness supply With all a hermit's board would scarce deny. But while he shuns the grosser joys of sense, His mind seems nourish'd by that abstinence. "Steer to that shore!"—they sail. "Do this!"—'tis done : "Now form and follow me!"—the spoil is won. Thus prompt his accents and his actions still, And all obey and few inquire his will; To such, brief answer and contemptuous eye III. "A sail!-a sail!". —a promised prize to Hope! No prize, alas!—but yet a welcome sail : Blow fair, thou breeze!-she anchors ere the dark. Receives that prow which proudly spurns the spray. And seems to dare the elements to strife. Who would not brave the battle-fire-the wreck To move the monarch of her peopled deck? IV. Hoarse o'er her side the rustling cable rings; The sails are furl'd; and anchoring round she swings: And gathering loiterers on the land discern Her boat descending from the latticed stern. The smile, the question, and the quick reply, And the heart's promise of festivity! V. The tidings spread, and gathering grows the crowd: The hum of voices, and the laughter loud, And woman's gentler anxious tone is heard— Friends-husbands'-lovers' names in each dear word: "Oh! are they safe? we ask not of success— "But shall we see them? will their accents bless? "From where the battle roars—the billows chafe— 66 They doubtless boldly did-but who are safe? “Here let them haste to gladden and surprise, "And kiss the doubt from these delighted eyes!" VI. "Where is our chief? for him we bear report— "And doubt that joy-which hails our coming-short; "Yet thus sincere 'tis cheering, though so brief; "But, Juan! instant guide us to our chief: "Our greeting paid, we'll feast on our return, To where his watch-tower beetles o'er the bay, By bushy brake, and wild flowers blossoming, And freshness breathing from each silver spring, ""Tis he-'tis Conrad-here-as wont-alone; VII. Him Juan sought, and told of their intentHe spake not-but a sign express'd assent. These Juan calls--they come to their salute He bends him slightly, but his lips are mute. "These letters, Chief, are from the Greek-the spy, "Who still proclaims our spoil or peril nigh: “Whate'er his tidings, we can well report, "Much that "Peace, peace!"-he cuts their prating short. Wondering they turn, abash'd, while each to each "In the anchor'd bark." "There let him stay-to him this order bear. "Back to your duty-for my course prepare: 66 66 Myself this enterprise to-night will share." To-night, Lord Conrad ?” "Ay! at set of sun: "The breeze will freshen when the day is done. 66 66 My corslet-cloak-one hour-and we are gone. Sling on thy bugle-see that free from rust, My carbine-lock springs worthy of my trust; "Be the edge sharpen'd of my boarding-brand, "And give its guard more room to fit my hand. "This let the Armourer with speed dispose; "Last time, it more fatigued my arm than foes: "Mark that the signal-gun be duly fired, "To tell us when the hour of stay's expired." |