XIII.

Embarked, the sail unfurled, the light breeze blew
How much had Conrad's memory to review!
Sunk he in contemplation-till the cape

Where last he anchored reared its giant shape.
Ah!—since that fatal night, though brief the time,
Had swept an age of terror, grief, and crime.
As its far shadow frowned above the mast,
He veiled his face, and sorrowed as he past;
He thought of all-Gonsalvo and his band,
His fleeting triumph and his failing hand;
He thought on her afar, his lonely bride-
He turned and saw-Gulnare, the homicide!

XIV.

She watched his features till she could not bear
Their freezing aspect and averted air,
And that strange fierceness foreign to her eye,
Fell quenched in tears, too late to shed or dry.
She knelt beside him and his hand she prest,
"Thou may'st forgive though Alla's self detest;
« But for that deed of darkness what wert thou?

Reproach me but not yet-Oh! spare me now!

« I am not what I seem—this fearful night

My brain bewildered-do not madden quite!

« If I had never loved-though less my guilt,

« Thou hadst not lived to-hate me- -if thou wilt. »

XV.

She wrongs his thoughts, they more himself upbraid Than her, though undesigned, the wretch he made; But speechless all, deep, dark, and unexprest, They bleed within that silent cell-his breast.

Still onward, fair the breeze, nor rough the surgè, The blue waves sport around the stern they urge; Far on the horizon's verge appears a speck— A spot-a mastt—a sail—an armed deck! Their little bark her men of watch descry, And ampler canvas woos the wind from high; She bears her down majestically near, Speed on her prow, and terror in her tier; A flash is seen-the ball beyond their bow Booms harmless hissing to the deep below. Uprose keen Conrad from his silent trance, A long, long absent gladness in his glance; « 'Tis mine-my blood-red flag!-again-again" I am not all deserted on the main!

They own the signal, answer to the hail,
Hoist out the boat at once, and slacken sail,
« 'Tis Conrad! Conrad! » shouting from the deck,
Command nor duty could their transport check!
With light alacrity and gaze of pride,

They view him mount once more his vessel's side;
A smile relaxing in each rugged face,

Their arms can scarce forbear a rough embrace.
He-half forgetting danger and defeat,

Returns their greeting as a chief

may greet, Wrings with a cordial grasp Anselmo's hand, And feels he yet can conquer and command!

XVI.

These greetings o'er, the feelings that o'erflow,
Yet grieve to win him back without a blow;
They sailed prepared for vengeance—had they known
A woman's hand secured that deed her own,
She were their queen-less scrupulous are they
Than haughty Conrad how they win their way.

With many an asking smile, and wondering stare,
They whisper round, and gaze upon Gulnare;
And her, at once above-beneath her sex,
Whom blood appalled not, their regards perplex.
To Conrad turns her faint imploring eye,
She drops her veil, and stands in silence by ;
Her arms are meekly folded on that breast,
Which-Conrad safe-to fate resigned the rest.
Though worse than phrenzy could that bosom fill,
Extreme in love or hate, in good or ill,
The worst of crimes had left her woman still!

XVII.

This Conrad marked, and felt-ah! could he less?
Hate of that deed-but grief for her distress;
What she has done no tears can wash away,
And heaven must punish on its angry day:
But-it was done-he knew, whate'er guilt,
For him that poignard smote, that blood was spilt;
And he was free!—and she for him had given
Her all on earth, and more than all in heaven!
And now he turned him to that dark-eyed slave
Whose brow was bowed beneath the glance he gave,
Who now seemed changed and humbled :-faint and meek
But varying oft the colour of her cheek

To deeper shades of paleness—all it's red

That fearful spot which stained it from the dead!
He took that hand-it trembled-now too late-
So soft in love-so wildly nerved in hate;
He clasped that hand-it trembled and his own
Had lost its firmness, and his voice its tone.
« Gulnare!»—but she replied not-
She raised her eye-her only answer there—

dear Gulnare!»>

At once she sought and sunk in his embrace:
If he had driven her from that resting place,
His had been more or less than mortal heart,
But-good or ill-it bade her not depart.
Perchance, but for the bodings of his breast,
His latest virtue then had joined the rest.
Yet even Medora might forgive the kiss
That asked from form so fair no more than this-
The first the last that Frailty stole from Faith-
To lips where Love had lavished all his breath,
To lips-whose broken sighs such fragrance fling,
As he had fanned them freshly with his wing!

XVIII.

They gain by twilight's hour their lonely isle.
To them the very rocks appear to smile;

The haven hums with many a cheering sound,
The beacons blaze their wonted stations round,
The boats are darting o'er the curly bay,
And sportive dolphins bend them through the spray;
Even the hoarse sea-bird's shrill, discordant shriek,
Greets like the welcome of his tuneless beak!
Beneath each lamp that through its lattice gleams,
Their fancy paints the friends that trim the beams.
Oh! what can sanctify the joys of home,

Like Hope's gay glance from Ocean's troubled foam?

XIX.

The lights are high on beacon and from bower,
And midst them Conrad seeks Medora's tower:
He looks in vain-'tis strange-and all remark,
Amid so many,
hers alone is dark.
"Tis strange-of yore its welcome never failed,
Nor now, perchance, extinguished, only veiled.

With the first boat descends he for the shore,
And looks impatient on the lingering oar.
Oh! for a wing beyond the falcon's flight,
To bear him like an arrow to that height!
With the first pause the resting rowers gave,
He waits not looks not-leaps into the wave,
Strives through the surge, bestrides the beach, and high
Ascends the path familiar to his eye.

He reached his turret door-he paused-no sound
Broke from within; and all was night around.
He knocked, and loudly-footstep nor reply
Announced that any heard or deemed him nigh;
He knocked-but faintly-for his trembling hand
Refused to aid his heavy heart's demand.
The portal opens-'tis a well-known face-
But not the form he panted to embrace.
Its lips are silent-twice his own essayed,
And failed to frame the question they delayed;
He snatched the lamp-its light will answer all-
It quits his grasp, expiring in the fall.

He would not wait for that reviving ray—
As soon could he have lingered there for day;
But, glimmering through the dusky corridor,
Another chequers o'er the shadowed floor;
His steps the chamber gain-his eyes behold
All that his heart believed not-yet foretold!

XX.

He turned not-spoke not-sunk not-fixed his look,
And set the anxious frame that lately shook:
He gazed-how long we gaze despite of pain,
And know, but dare not own, we gaze in vain!