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With many an asking smile, and wondering stare,
They whisper round, and gaze upon Gulnare; 1690
And her, at once above-beneath her sex,
Whom blood appall’d 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 1695
Which-Conrad safe-to fate resign'd the rest.
Though worse than phrensy 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 mark'd, and felt-ah! could he less 1700 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 her guilt, For him that poniard smote, that blood was spilt; 1705 And he was free!—and she for him had given Her all on earth, and more than all in heaven! And now he turn'd him to that dark-eyed slave Whose brow was bow'd beneath the glance he gave, Who now seem'd changed and humbled :-faint and meek,

1710 But varying oft the colour of her cheek To deeper shades of paleness—all its red That fearful spot which stain'd it from the dead!

He took that hand-it trembled—now too late-
So soft in love-so wildly nerved in hate; 1715
He clasp'd that hand-it trembled--and his own
Had lost its firmness, and his voice its tone.
6 Gulnare !"--but she replied not—" dear Gulnare!"
She raised her eye-her only answer there-
At once she sought and sunk in his embrace: 1720
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 joind the rest. 1725
Yet even Medora might forgive the kiss
That ask'd from form so fair no more than this,
The first, the last that Frailty stole from Faith-
To lips where Love had lavish'd all his breath,
To lips--whose broken sighs such fragrance fling,
As he had fann'd them freshly with his wing! 1731

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, 1735 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, 1740
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: 1745 He looks in vain—'tis strange—and all remark, Amid so many, hers alone is dark. 'Tis strange-of yore its welcome never fail'd, Nor now, perchance, extinguish'd, only veild. With the first boat descends he for the shore, 1750 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, 1755 Strives through the surge, bestrides the beach, and high Ascends the path familiar to his eye.

He reach'd his turret door---he paused---no sound
Broke from within; and all was night around.
He knock'd, and loudly---footstep nor reply 1760
Announced that any heard or deem'd him nigh;
He knock’d---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. 1765

Its lips are silent-twice his own essay'd,
And faild to frame the question they delay'd;
He snatch'd the lamp-its light will answer all---
It quits his grasp, expiring in the fall;
He would not wait for that reviving ray--- 1770
As soon could he have linger'd there for day;
But, glimmering through the dusky corridore,
Another chequers o'er the shadow'd floor;
His steps the chamber gain---his eyes behold
All that his heart beliered not---yet foretold! 1775

XX. He turn'd not ---spoke not---sunk not---fix'd 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! In life itself she was so still and fair,

1780 That death with gentler aspect wither'd there; And the cold flowers (16) her colder hand contain'd, In that last grasp as tenderly were strain'd Asif she scarcely felt, but feign'd a sleep, And made it almost mockery yet to weep: 1785 The long dark lashes fringed her lids of snow, And veil'd--thought shrinks from all that lurk'd below-Oh! o'er the eye death most exerts his might, And hurls the spirit from her throne of light! Sinks those blue orbs in that long last eclipse, 1790 But spares, as yet, the charm around her lipsYet, yet they seem as they forbore to smile, And wie?

but only for a while;

But the white shroud, and each extended tress, Long---fair---but spread in utter lifelessness, 1795 Which, late the sport of every summer wind, Escaped the baffled wreath that strove to bind; These-and the pale pure cheek, became the bier But she is nothing ---wherefore is he here?


XXI. He ask'd no question---all were answer'd now 1800 By the first glance on that still---marble brow. It was enough---she died---what reck'd it how ? The love of youth, the hope of better years, The source of softest wishes, tenderest fears, The only living thing he could not hate, Was reft at once---and he deserved his fate, But did not feel it less ;---the good explore, For peace, those realms where guilt can never soar: The proud---the wayward---who have fix'd below Their joy---and find this earth enough for wo, 1810 Lose in that one their all---perchance a mite--But who in patience parts with all delight? Full many a stoic eye and aspect stern Mask hearts where grief hath little left to learn; And many a withering thought lies hid, not lost, 1815 In smiles that least befit who wear them most.

By those, that deepest feel, is ill exprest
The indistinctness of the suffering breast;

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