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And Havoc loathes so much the waste of time,
She scarce had left an uncommitted crime.
One hour beheld him since the tide he stemm'd-

demn'd--A chief on land---an outlaw on the deep--- 1000 Destroying---saving---prison'd---and asleep!


He slept in calmest seeming---for his breath
Was hush'd so deep---Ah! happy if in death!
He slept---Who o'er his placid slumber bends ?
His foes are gone---and here he hath no friends; 1005
Is it some seraph sent to grant him grace?
No, 'tis an earthly form with heavenly face!
Its white arm raised a lamp---yet gently hid,
Lest the ray flash abruptly on the lid
Of that closed eye, which opens but to pain, 1010
And once unclosed---but once may close again.
That form, with eye so dark, and cheek so fair,
And auburn waves of gemm'd and braided hair;
With shape of fairy lightness---naked foot, 1014
That shines like snow, and falls on earth as mute---
Through guards and dunnest night how came it there?
Ah! rather ask what will not woman dare?
Whom youth and pity lead like thee, Gulnare!
She could not sleep---and while the Pacha's rest
In muttering dreams yet saw his pirate-guest, 1020
She left his side---his signet-ring she bore,
Which oft in sport adorn'd her hand before---

And with it, scarcely question'd, won her way Through drowsy guards that must that sign obey. Worn out with toil, and tired with changing blows, Their eyes had envied Conrad his repose;

1026 And chill and nodding at the turret door, They stretch their listless limbs, and watch no more: Just raised their heads to hail the signet-ring, Nor ask or what or who the sign may bring. 1030

XIII. She gazed in wonder, “ Can he calmly sleep, “ While other eyes his fall or ravage weep? “ And mine in restlessness are wandering here.-“ What sudden spell hath made this man so dear? “ True---'tis to him my life, and more, I owe,

1035 “And me and mine he spared from worse than wo: “ 'Tis late to think---but soft---his slumber breaks--"How heavily he sighs !---he starts---awakes!"

He raised his head---and dazzled with the light,

seem'd dubious if it saw aright: 1040 He moved his hand---the grating of his chain Too harshly told him that he lived again. “ What is that form ? if not a shape of air, " Methinks, my jailor's face shows wond'rous fair!"

- Pirate! thou know'st me not---but I am one, 1045

Grateful for deeds thou hast too rarely done; “ Look on me---and remember her, thy hand “ Snatch'd from the flames, and thy more fearful band.

“ I come through darkness---and I scarce know why--" Yet not to hurt---I would not see thee die." 1050

“ If so, kind lady! thine the only eye 6 That would not here in that gay hope delight: “ Theirs is the chance---and let them use their right. “ But still I thank their courtesy or thine, " That would confess me at so fair a shrine !" 1055

Strange though it seem--

---yet with extremest grief Is link'd a mirth---it doth not bring relief--That playfulness of Sorrow ne'er beguiles, And smiles in bitterness---but still it smiles; And sometimes with the wisest and the best, 1060 Till even the scaffold (10) echoes with their jest! Yet not the joy to which it seems akin--It may deceive all hearts, save that within. Whate'er it was that flash'd on Conrad, now A laughing wildness half unbent his brow: 1065 And these his accents had a sound of mirth, As if the last he could enjoy on earth; Yet 'gainst his nature---for through that short life, Few thoughts had he to spare from gloom and strife.


“ Corsair! thy doom is named-but I have power 66 To sooth the Pacha in his weaker hour. 1071 “ Thee would I spare-nay more-would save thee


“ But this-time-hope--nor even thy strength allow; “ But all I can, I will : at least, delay “ The sentence that remits thee scarce a day. 1075 “ More now were ruin-even thyself were loth “ The vain attempt should bring but doom to both.”

“Yes !-loth indeed :--my soul is nerved to all, " Or fall'n too low to fear a further fall : " Tempt not thyself with peril; me with hope, 1080 “Of flight from foes with whom I could not cope: “ Unfit to vanquish-shall I meanly fly, " The one of all my band that would not die? “ Yet there is one-to whom my memory clings, “ Till to these eyes her own wild softness springs. 1085

My sole resources in the path I trod “ Were these---my bark---my sword---my love---my

God! * The last I left in youth---he leaves me now--“ And Man but works his will to lay me low. 1089

I have no thought to mock his throne with prayer W:

Vrung from the coward crouching of despair; “It is enough--- I breathe---and I can bear. “My sword is shaken from the worthless hand " That might have better kept so true a brand ; “My bark is sunk or captive---but my love--- 1095

For her in sooth my voice would mount above: “ Oh! she is all that still to earth can bind--“And this will break a heart so more than kind, " And blight a form---till thine appear’d, Gulnare! eye ne'er ask'd if others were as fair ?" 1100

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66 Thou lov'st another then ?---but what to me “ Is this---'tis nothing---nothing e'er can be: “ But yet---thou lov'st---and---Oh! I envy those " Whose hearts on hearts as faithful can repose, 1104 " Who never feel the void---the wandering thought “ That sighs o'er visions---such as mine hath wrought."

“ Lady---methought thy love was his, for whom « This arm redeem'd thee from a fiery tomb."

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My love stern Seyd's! Oh---No---No---not my

love--“ Yet much this heart, that strivés no more, once strove. “ To meet his passion---but it would not be. 1111 • 1 felt---I feel---love dwells with---with the free.

I am a slave, a favour'd slave at best, 66 To share his splendour, and seem very

blest! • Oft must my soul the question undergo,

1115 “ Of--- Dost thou love?' and burn to answer "No!' " Oh! hard it is that fondness to sustain, « And struggle not to feel averse in vain; “ But harder still the heart's recoil to bear, 66 And hide from one--

---perhaps another there. 1120 “ He takes the hand I give not---nor withhold--“ Its pulse nor check’d---nor quicken'd---calmly cold: " And when resign'd, it drops a lifeless weight « From one I never loved enough to hate. “ No warmth these lips return by his imprest, 1125

And chill'd remembrance shudders o'er the rest.

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