« Pacha! the day is thine; and on thy crest

« Sits Triumph-Conrad taken—fall'n the rest! « His doom is fixed—he dies—and well his fate « Was earned—yet much too worthless for thy hate : Methinks, a short release for ransom told

« With all his treasure, not unwisely sold; '

Report speaks largely of his pirate-hoard— « Would that of this my Pacha were the Lord! « While baffled—weakened by this fatal fray— « Watched—followed-he were then an easier prey; « But once cut off—the remnant of his band « Embark their wealth, and seek a safer strand. »

◄ Gulnare!—if for each drop of blood a gem
« Were offered rich as Stamboul's diadem;
« If for each hair of his a massy mine
« Of virgin ore should supplicating shine;
« If all our arab tales divulge or dream

« Of wealth were here—that gold should not redeem! « It had not now redeemed a single hour—

■ But that I know him fettered, in my power;

And, thirsting for revenge, I ponder still

« On pangs that longest rack, and latest kill. »

«Nay, Seyd!—I seek not to restrain thy rage,
« Too justly moved for mercy to assuage ;
« My thoughts were only to secure for thee
« His riches--thus released, he were not free:
. Disabled, shorn of half his might and band,
His capture could but wait thy first command. »

« His capture could!—and shall I then resign

One day to him—the wretch already mine?

Release foe!—at whose remonstrance?—thine!'

my

Fair suiter!-to thy virtuous gratitude,

« That thus repays this Giaour's relenting mood,

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Which thee and thine alone of all could spare, «No doubt-regardless if the prize were fair,

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My thanks and praise alike are due-—now hear! « I have a counsel for thy gentler ear:

« I do mistrust thee, woman! and each word
"Of thine stamps truth on all Suspicion heard.

« Borne in his arms through fire from yon Serai-
Say, wert thou lingering there with him to fly?

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« Thou need'st not answer-thy confession speaks, Already reddening on thy guilty cheeks;

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Then, lovely dame, bethink thee! and beware:: " 'Tis not his life alone may claim such care!. « Another word and-nay-I need no more. « Accursed was the moment when he bore "Thee from the flames, which better far-but-no<< I then had mourned thee with a lover's woe— Now 'tis thy lord that warns-deceitful thing! « Know'st thou that I can clip thy wanton wing? « In words alone I am not wont to chafé:

Look to thyself-nor deem thy falsehood safe!».

He rose-and slowly, sternly thence withdrew,
Rage in his eye and threats in his adieu :.
Ah! little recked that chief of womanhood
Which frowns ne'er quelled, nor menaces subdued;
And little deemed he what thy heart, Gulnare!:
When soft could feel, and when incensed could dare.
His doubts appeared to wrong-nor yet she knew
How deep the root from whence compassion grew-
She was a slave—from such may captives claim
A fellow-feeling, differing but in name;

Still half unconscious-heedless of his wrath,
Again she ventured on the dangerous path,
Again his rage repelled-until arose

That strife of thought, the source of woman's woes!

VI.

Meanwhile-long anxious-weary-still-the same Rolled day and night—his soul could terror tameThis fearful interval of doubt and dread,

When every hour might doom him worse than dead,
When every step that echoed by the gate,

Might entering lead where axe and stake await;
When every voice that grated on his ear
Might be the last that he could ever hear;
Could terror tame-that spirit stern and high
Had proved unwilling as unfit to die;
'Twas worn-perhaps decayed-yet silent bore
That conflict deadlier far than all before:
The heat of fight, the hurry of the gale,
Leave scarce one thought inert enough to quail;
But bound and fixed in fettered solitude,
To pine, the prey of every changing mood;
To gaze on thine own heart; and meditate
Irrevocable faults, and coming fate-

Too late the last to shun-the first to mend—
To count the hours that struggle to thine end,
With not a friend to animate, and tell
To other ears that death became thee well;
Around thee foes to forge the ready lie,
And blot life's latest scene with calumny`;
Before thee tortures, which the soul can dare,
Yet doubts how well the shrinking flesh may bear;
But deeply feels a single cry would shame,
To valour's praise thy last and dearest claim;

The life thou leav'st below, denied above
By kind monopolists of heavenly love,
And more than doubtful paradise-thy heaven
Of earthly hope thy loved one from thee riven.
Such were the thoughts that outlaw must sustain,
And govern pangs surpassing mortal pain:

And those sustained he-boots it well or ill?
Since not to sink beneath, is something still!

VII.

The first day passed-he saw not her-GulnareThe second-third-and still she came not there; But what her words avouched, her charms had done, Or else he had not seen another sun.

The fourth day rolled along, and with the night Came storm and darkness in their mingling might: Oh! how he listened to the rushing deep,

his sleep;

That ne'er till now so broke upon
And his wild spirit wilder wishes sent,
Roused by the roar of his own element!
Oft had he ridden on that winged wave,
And loved its roughness for the speed it gave;
And now its dashing echoed on his ear,
A long known voice-alas! too vainly near!
Loud sung the wind above; and, doubly loud,
Shook o'er his turret cell the thunder-cloud;
And flashed the lightning by the latticed bar,
To him more genial than the midnight star :
Close to the glimmering grate he dragged his chain,
And hoped that peril might not prove in vain.
He raised his iron hand, to Heaven, and prayed
One pitying flash to mar the form it made:
His steel and impious prayer attract alike-
The storm rolled onward and disdained to strike;

Its peal waxed fainter-ceased-he felt alone,
As if some faithless friend had spurned his groan!

VIII.

The midnight passed-and to the massy door,
A light step came-it paused-it moved once more;
Slow turns the grating bolt and sullen key:
'Tis as his heart foreboded—that fair she!
Whate'er her sins, to him a guardian saint,
And beauteous still as hermit's hope can paint;
Yet changed since last within that cell she came,
More pale her cheek, more tremulous her frame:
On him she cast her dark and hurried eye,
Which spoke before her accents-
—« thou must die!

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Yes, thou must die-there is but one resource,

« The last-the worst-if torture were not worse. »

Lady! I look to none-my lips proclaim

<< What last proclaimed they-Conrad still the same: Why should'st thou seek an outlaw's life to spare, << And change the sentence I deserve to bear?

« Well have I earned-nor here alone-the meed « Of Seyd's revenge, by many a lawless deed. »

Why should I seek? because-Oh! didst thou not « Redeem my life from worse than slavery's lot?

Why should I seck ?—hath misery made thee blind To the fond workings of a woman's mind!

a And must. I say? albeit my heart rebel

« With all that woman feels, but should not tell-
« Because despite thy crimes-that heart is moved :

« It feared thee-thanked thee--pitied--maddened--loved. Reply not, tell not now thy tale again,

"

« Thou loy'st another and I love in vain.;