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There sleeps as true an Osmanlie
735 And stranger in his native land; Yet died he as in arms he stood, And unavenged, at least in blood. But him the maids of Paradise Impatient to their halls invite,
740 And the dark Heaven of Houri's eyes
On him shall glance for ever bright; They come—their kerchiefs green they wave, (34) And welcome with a kiss the brave! Who falls in battle 'gainst a Giaour
745 Is worthiest an immortal bower.
But thou, false Infidel! shalt writhe
Then ghastly haunt thy native place,
Till these in horror shrink away
“ How name ye yon lone Caloyer?
“ His features I have scann'd before " In mine own land : 'tis many a year,
“ Since, dashing by the lonely shore, “ I saw him urge as fleet a steed “ As ever served a horseman's need. “ But once I saw that face, yet then " It was so mark d with inward pain, “ I could not pass it by again; " It breathes the same dark spirit now, “ As death were stamped upon his brow.” “ 'Tis twice three years at summer tide
“ Since first among our freres he came; 6 And here it soothes him to abide
" For some dark deed he will not name. “ But never at our vesper prayer, 66 Nor e'er before confession chair “ Kneels he, nor recks he when arise * Incense or anthem to the skies, 6 But broods within his cell alone, “ His faith and race alike unknown. “ The sea from Paynim land he crost, « And here ascended from the coast; “ Yet seems he not of Othman race,
Christian in his face:
" I'd judge him some stray renegade,
Repentant of the change he made, “ Save that he shuns our holy shrine, “ Nor tastes the sacred bread and wine. “ Great largess to these walls he brought, " And thus our abbot's favour bought; “ But were I Prior, not a day • Should brook such stranger's further stay, 6 Or pent within our penance cell
Should doom him there for aye to dwell.
Much in his visions mutters he * Of maiden 'whelm'd beneath the sea; • Of sabres clashing, foemen flying, 6 Wrongs avenged, and Moslem dying. “ On cliff he hath been known to stand, “ And rave as to some bloody hand 6 Fresh sever'd from its parent limb, “ Invisible to all but him, 6. Which beckons onward to his
grave, " And lures to leap into the wave."
Dark and unearthly is the scowl
For in it lurks that nameless spell
850 And when he doth 'tis sad to see That he but mocks at Misery. How that pale lip will curl and quiver! Then fix once more as if for ever; As if his sorrow or disdain
855 Forbade him e'er to smile again. Well were it so-such ghastly mirth From joyaunce ne'er derived its birth. But sadder still it were to trace What once were feelings in that face: 860 Time hath not yet the features fix'd, But brighter traits with evil mix'd; And there are hues not always faded, Which speak a mind not all degraded Even by the crimes through which it waded: 865