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With it he comes not---sends not---faithless one!
The wind was fair though light; and storms were none.
Last eve Anselmo's bark return'd, and yet
His only tidings that they had not met!
Though wild, as now, far different were the tale 1245
Had Conrad waited for that single sail.

The night-breeze freshens---she that day had past
In watching all that Hope proclaim'd a mast;
Sadly she sate---on high---Impatience bore
At last her footsteps to the midnight shore, 1250
And there she wander'd heedless of the spray
That dash'd her garments oft, and warn’d away:
She saw not---felt not this---nor dared depart
Nor deem'd it cold---her chill was at her heart;
Till grew such certainty from that suspense--- 1255
His very Sight had shock'd from life or sense !

It came at last---a sad and shatter'd boat,
Whose inmates first beheld whom first they sought;
Some bleeding---all most wretched---these the few---
Scarce knew they how escaped---this all they knew.
In silence, darkling, each appear'd to wait 1261
His fellow's mournful guess at Conrad's fate :
Something they would have said ; but seem'd to fear
To trust their accents to Medora's ear.
She saw at once, yet sunk not---trembled not-- 1265
Beneath that grief, that loneliness of lot,
Within that meek fair form, were feelings high,
That deem'd not till they found their energy.

While yet was Hope-they soften’d--flutter'd--wept-All lost--that softness died not-but it slept; 1270 And o'er its slumber rose that Strength which said, “With nothing left to love--there's nought to dread." 'Tis more than nature's; like the burning might Delirium gathers from the fever's height. “ Silent you stand-nor would I hear you

tell 1275 “ What--speak not--breathe not--for I know it well“ Yet would I ask-almost my lip denies “ The-quick your answer—tell me where he lies?”

“ Lady! we know not-scarce with life we fled; « But here is one denies that he is dead:

1280 “He saw him bound; and bleeding—but alive."

She heard no further--'twas in vain to strive---
So throbb'd each vein--each thought--till then with-

Her own dark soul---these words at once subdued :
She totters---falls---and senseless had the wave 1285
Perchance but snatch'd her from another grave;
But that with hands though rude, yet weeping eyes,
They yield such aid as Pity's haste supplies :
Dash o'er her deathlike cheek the ocean dew,
Raise---fan---sustain---till life returns anew; 1290
Awake her handmaids, with the matrons leave
That fainting form o'er which they gaze and grieve;
Then seek Anselmo's cavern, to report
The tale too tedious---when the triumph short.

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In that wild council words wax'd warm and strange, 1295
With thoughts of ransom, rescue, and revenge;
All, save repose or flight: still lingering there
Breathed Conrad's spirit, and forbade despair ;
Whate'er his fate---the breasts he form'd and led,
Will save him living, or appease him dead. 1900
Wo to his foes! there yet survive a few,
Whose deeds are daring, as their hearts are true.


Within the Haram's secret chamber sate
Stern Seyd, still pondering o'er his Captive's fate;
His thoughts on love and hate alternate dwell, 1305
Now with Gulnare, and now in Conrad's cell ;
Here at his feet the lovely slave reclined
Surveys his brow---would sooth his gloom of mind,
While many an anxious glance her large dark eye
Sends in its idle search for sympathy,

1310 His only bends in seeming o'er his beads, (15) But inly views his victim as he bleeds.

“ Pacha! the day is thine; and on thy crest “ Sits Triumph---Conrad taken---fall’n the rest ! “ His doom is fix'd---he dies : and well his fate 1315 “ Was earn'd---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--6 Would that of this my Pacha were the Lord ! 1320 “ While baffled, weaken'd by this fatal fray--“ Watch'd---follow'd --- 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 1325 “ Were offer'd 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 redeem'd a single hour; 1331 “ But that I know him fetter'd, 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, 1935 “ 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.” 1340 “ His capture could !---and shall I then resign “ One day to him---the wretch already mine? “ Release my foe !---at whose remonstrance ?---thine « Fair suitor !---to thy virtuous gratitude, “ That thus repays this Giaour's relenting mood, 1945

“ Which thee and thine alone of all could spare, “ No doubt---regardless if the prize were fair, “ My thanks and praise alike are due---now hear! 6. I have a counsel for thy gentler ear: “I do mistrust thee, woman! and each word 1350 “Of thine stamps truth on all Suspicion heard. 6. Borne in his arms through fire from yon Serai--“ Say, wert thou lingering there with him to fly? “ Thou need'st not answer---thy confession speaks,

Already reddening on thy guilty cheeks; 1355 " Then, lovely dame, bethink thee! and beware: “ 'Tis not his life alone may claim such care! 66 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 mourn'd thee with a lover's WO--- 1361 “ Now 'tis thy lord that warns---deceitful thing! “ Know'st thou that I can clip thy wanton wing? 6. In words alone I am not wont to chafe: “ Look to thyself---nor deem thy falsehood safe!" 1365

He rose---and slowly, sternly thence withdrew,
Rage in his eye and threats in his adieu :
Ah! little reck'd that chief of womanhood---
Which frowns ne'er quell'd, nor menaces subdued;
And little deem'd he what thy heart, Gulnare! 1370
When soft could feel, and when incensed could dare.
His doubts appeard to wrong---nor yet she knew
How deep the root from whence compassion grew---

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