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What, silent still ? and silent all ?
Ah! no;—the voices of the dead
And answer, “ Let one living head,
Fill high the cup with Samian wine ! Leave battles to the Turkish hordes,
And shed the blood of Scio's vine!
Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone !
The nobler and the manlier one ? You have the letters Cadmus gave Think ye he meant them for a slave ? Fill high the bowl with Samian wine !
We will not think of themes like these : It made Anacreon's song divine :
He served—but served Polycrates
Was freedom's best and bravest friend; That tyrant was Miltiades !
Oh! that the present hour would lend Another despot of the kind ! Such chains as his were sure to bind. Fill high the bowl with Samian wine !
On Suli's rock, and Parga's shore, .
Exists the remnant of a line
Such as the Doric mothers bore ;
They have a king who buys and sells ;
The only hope of courage dwells;
Our virgins dance beneath the shade
But gazing on each glowing maid,
Where nothing, save the waves and I,
There, swan-like, let me sing and die :
THE SULTANA GULBEYAZ.
I know not what might be the lady's thought,
And into her clear cheek the blood was brought, Blood-red as sun-set summer clouds which range
The verge of heaven ; and in her large eyes wrought A mixture of sensations might be scanned, Of half voluptuousness and half command.
Her form had all the softness of her sex,
Her features all the sweetness of the devil, When he put on the cherub to perplex
Eve, and paved (God knows how) the road to evil; The sun himself was scarce more free from specks
Than she from aught at which the eye could cavil; Yet somehow there was something somewhere wanting, As if she rather order'd than was granting. Something imperial, or imperious, threw
A chain o'er all she did ; that is, a chain Was thrown as 'twere about the neck of you
And rapture's self will seem almost a pain
Our souls at least are free, and 'tis in vain
Her very nod was not an inclination;
As though they were quite conscious of her station They trod as upon necks; and to complete
Her state, it is the custom of her nation)
The law of all around her ; to fulfil
Had been her slaves' chief pleasure, as her will: Her blood was high, her beauty scarce of earth :
Judge, then, if her caprices e'er stood still ; Had she but been a Christian, I've a notion We should have found out the perpetual motion.”
Whate'er she saw and coveted was brought;
Whate'er she did not see, if she supposed It might be seen, with diligence was sought,
And when 'twas found straightway the bargain There was no end unto the things she bought, (closed :
Nor to the trouble which her fancies caused;
HAIDEE DISCOVERING JUAN.
Fast to the sand, lest the returning wave,
Should suck him back to her insatiate grave:
Before the entrance of a cliff-worn cave,
But sunk again upon his bleeding knee
Who long had been his mates upon the sea,
Save one, a corpse, from out the famish'd three,
And down he sunk; and as he sunk, the sand
He fell upon his side, and his stretch'd hand Droop'd dripping on the oar (their jury mast),
And, like a wither'd lily, on the land His slender frame and pallid aspect lay, As fair a thing as e'er was form’d of clay.
How long in his damp trance young Juan lay
He knew not, for the earth was gone for him, And.Time had nothing more of night nor day
For his congealing blood, and senses dim : And how this heavy faintness passed away
He knew not, till each painful pulse and limb, And tingling vein, seem'd throbbing back to life, For death, though yanquish'd, still retired with strife. His eyes he open'd, shut, again unclosed,
For all was doubt and dizziness; methought He still was in the boat, and had but dozed,
And felt again with his despair o'erwrought, And wish'd it death in which he had reposed,
And then once more his feelings back were brought, And slowly by his swimming eyes were seen A lovely female face of seventeen, 'Twas bending close o'er his, and the small mouth
Seem'd almost prying into his for breath; And chafing him, the soft warm hand of youth
Recall’d his answering spirits back from death ;
Each pulse to animation, till beneath
Around his scarce clad limbs; and the fair arm
And her transparent cheek, all pure and warm, Pillow'd his death-like forehead; then she wrung
His dewy curls long drench'd by every storm; And watched with eagerness each throb that drew A sigh from his heaved bosom—and hers too.