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So steeld by pondering o'er his far career, True'tis to him my life, and more, I owe,
'Tis late to think-but soft-his slumber breaksXI.
How heavily he sighs !-he starts-awakes!" In the high chamber of his highest tower Sate Conrad, fetter'd in the Pacha's power. He raised his head-and dazzled with the light, His palace perish'd in the flame—this fort His eye seem'd dubious if it saw aright: Contain'd at once his captive and his court. He moved his hand-the grating of his chain Not much could Conrad of his sentence blame, Too harshly told him that he lived again. His foe, if vanquish'd, had but shared the same : “ What is that form ? if not a shape of air, Alone he sate-in solitude had scann'd
Methinks, my jailor's face shows wond'rous fair !" His guilty bosom, but that breast he mann'd: One thought alone he could not-dared not meet « Pirate! thou know'st me not-but I am one, “Oh, how these tidings will Medora greet? Grateful for deeds thou hast too rarely done; Then-only then-his clanking hands he raised, Look on me and remember her, thy hand And strain’d with rage the chain on which he gazed; Snatch'd from the flames, and thy more fearful band But soon he found-or feign'd-or dream'd relief, I come through darkness—and I scarce know whyAnd smiled in self-derision of his grief,
Yet not to hurt-I would not see thee die." “ And now come torture when it will-or may, More need of rest to nerve me for the day!” “ If so kind lady! thine the only eye This said, with languor to his mat he crept, That would not here in that gay hope delight: And, whatsoe'er his visions, quickly slept. Theirs is the chance-and let them use their right. 'Twas hardly midnight when that fray begun, But still I thank their courtesy or thine, For Conrad's plans matured, at once were done; That would confess me at so fair a shrine!” And Havoc loathes so much the waste of time, She scarce had left an uncommitted crime.
Strange though it seem-yet with extremest griet One hour beheld him since the tide he stemm'd Is link'd a mirth-it doth not bring reliefDisguised — discover'd --- conquering - ta’en 1-con- That playfulness of Sorrow ne'er beguiles, demn'd
And smiles in bitterness—but still it smiles;
Yet not the joy to which it seems akin-
It may deceive all hearts, save that within.
XIV. Of that closed eye, which opens but to pain, “ Corsair ! thy doom is named—but I have power And once unclosed-but once may close again. To sooth the Pacha in his weaker hour. That form, with eye so dark, and cheek so fair, Thee would I spare-nay more would save thee And auburn waves of gemm'd and braided hair;
now, With shape of fairy lightness-naked foot, But this-time-hope-nor even thy strength allow That shines like snow, and falls on earth as mute-But all I can, I will: at least delay Through guards and dunnest night how came it The sentence that remits thee scarce a day. there?
More now were ruin-even thyself were loth Ah! rather ask what will not woman dare ? The vain attempt should bring but doom to both.' Whom youth and pity lead like thee, Gulnare ! She could not sleep-and while the Pacha's rest “Yes !--loth indeed:-my soul is nerved to all, In muttering dreams yet saw his pirate-guest, Or fall'n too low to fear a further fall : She left his side his signet-ring she bore, Tempt not thyself with peril; me with hope Which oft in sport adorn’d her hand before Or flight from foes with whom I could not cope : And with it, scarcely question'd, won her way Unfit to vanquish-shall I meanly fly, Through drowsy guards that must that sign obey. The one of all my band that would not die ? Worn out with toil, and tired with changing blows, Yet there is one-to whom my memory clings, Their eyes had envied Conrad his repose;
Till to these eyes her own wild softness springs. And chill and nodding at the turret door,
My sole resources in the path I trod They stretch their listless limbs, and watch no more: Were these-my bark-my sword-my love-su) Just raised their heads to hail the signet-ring,
God! Nor ask or what or who the sign may bring.
The last I left in youth—he leaves me now
And man but works his will to lay me low.
I have no thought to mock his throne with prayer She gazed in wonder, “Can he calmly sleep, Wrung from the coward crouching of despair ; While other eyes his fall or ravage weep?
It is enough-I breathe and I can bear. And mine in restlessness are wandering here My sword is shaken from the worthless hand What sudden spell hath made this man so dear? That might have better kept so true a brand :
+ Come vedianoor non m'abbandona.
My bark is sunk or captive-but my love That weapon of her weakness she can wield, For her in sooth my voice would mount above : To save, subdue-at once her spear and shield: Oh! she is all that still to earth can bind
Avoid it-Virtue ebbs and Wisdom errs, And this will break a heart so more than kind, Too fondly gazing on that grief of hers ! And blight a forin-till thine, appear'd, Gulnare ! What lost a world, and bade a hero fly? Mine eye ne'er ask'd if others were as fair." The timid tear in Cleopatra's eye.
Yet be the soft triumvir’s fault forgiven, "Thou lov'st another then ?-but what to me By this--how many lose not earth--but hearen! Is this,'tis nothing--nothing e'er can be : Consign their souls to man's eternal foe, But yet-thou lor'st-and--Oh! I envy those And seal their own to spare some wanton's wo. Whose hearts on hearts as faithful can repose. Who never feel the void-the wandering thought
XVI. That sighs o'er visions such as mine hath wrought." "Tis mom-and o'er his alter'd features play
The beams-without the hope of yesterday. " Lady-methought thy love was his, for whom What shall he be ere night? perchance a thing This arm redeem'd thee from a fiery tomb." O'er which the raven flaps her funeral wing:
By his closed eye, unheeded and unfelt, "My love stern Seyd's! Oh-No-No-not my While sets that sun, and dews of evening melt, love
Chill-wet-and misty round each stiffen'd limb Yet much this heart, that strives no more, once Refreshing earth-reviving all but him!
Slow sinks, more lovely ere his race be run, No warmth these lips return by his impress'd, Along Morea's hills the setting sun; And chill'd remembrance shudders o'er the rest. Not, as in Northern climes, obscurely bright, Yes-had I ever proved that passion's zeal, But one unclouded blaze of living light! The change to hatred were at least to feel : O'er the hush'd deep the yellow beam he throws But still—he goes unmourn’d-returns unsought- Gilds the green wave, that trembles as it glows And oft when present-absent from my thought. On old Ægina's rock, and Idra's isle, Or when reflection comes-and come it must- The god of gladness sheds his parting smile; I fear that henceforth 'twill but bring disgust; O'er his own regions lingering, loves to shine, I am his slave-but, in despite of pride,
Though there his altars are no more divine; 'Twere worse than bondage to become his bride. Descending fast, the mountain shadows kiss Oh! that this dotage of his breast would cease! Thy glorious gulf, unconquer'd Salamis ! Or seek another and give mine release,
Their azure arches through the long expanse But yesterday, I could have said, to peace ! More deeply purpled meet his mellowing glance, Yes-if unwonted fondness now I feign,
And tenderest tints, along their summits driven, Remember-captive ! 'tis to break thy chain ; Mark his gay course, and own the hues of heaven Repay the life that to thy hand I owe;
Till, darkly shaded from the land and deep, To give thee back to all endear'd below,
Behind his Delphian cliff he sinks to sleep. Who share such love as I can never know. On such an eve, his palest beam he cast, Farewell--morn breaks—and I must now away : When-Athens ! here thy Wisest look'd his lasta 'Twill cost me dear-but dread no death to-day!” How watch'd thy better sons his farewell ray,
That closed their murder'd sage's 12 latest day!
Not yet-not yet-Sol pauses on the hill-
The precious hour of parting lingers still ;
Gloom o'er the lovely land he seem'd to pour, And was she here? and is he now alone ? The land, where Phæbus never frown'd before; gem
hath dropp'd and sparkles o'er his chain ? But ere he sank below Cithæron's head,
Who liv'd and died, as none can live or die!
The queen of night asserts her silent reign."
No murky vapor, herald of the storm,
While yet was Hope-they soften'd-futter'd Hides her fair face, nor girds her glowing form;
wept With cornice glimmering as the moonbeams play, All lost—that softness died not-but it slept; There the white column greets her grateful ray, And o'er its slumber rose that Strength which said, And, bright around with quirering beams beset, “ With nothing left to love there's nought to Her emblem sparkles o'er the minaret:
dread." The groves of olive scatter'd dark and wide | 'Tis more than nature's; like the burning might Where meek Cephisus pours his scanty tide, Delirium gathers from the fever's height. The cypress saddening by the sacred mosque, The gleaming turret of the gay Kiosk,14
" Silent you stand-nor would I hear you tell And, dun and sombre 'mid the holy calın,
What-speak not-breathe not-for I know it well Near Theseus' fane yon solitary palm,
Yet would I ask-almost my lip denies All tinged with varied hues arrest the eye
The-quick your answer-tell me where he lies" And dull were his that pass'd them heedless by. Again the Ægean, heard no more afar,
“ Lady! we know not-scarce with life we fled;
But here is one denies that he is dead:
He saw him bound; and bleeding—but alive."
She heard no further-'twas in vain to strive Mixt with the shades of many a distant isle, That frown-where gentler ocean seems to smile.15 So throbb'd each vein-each thought-till then with
Her own dark soul-these words at once subdued : II.
She totters-falls-and senseless had the wave Not now my theme-why turn my thoughts to thee? Perchance but snatch'd her from another grave: Oh! who can look along thy native sea,
But that with hands though rude, yet weeping eyes, Nor dwell upon thy name, whate'er the tale, They yield such aid as Pity's haste supplies : So much its magic must o'er all prevail ?
Dash o'er her deathlike cheek the ocean dew, Who that beheld that Sun upon thee set,
Raise-fan-sustain-till life returns anew; Fair Athens! could thine evening face forget? Awake her handmaids, with the matrons leave Not he-whose heart nor time nor distance frees, That fainting form o'er which they gaze and grieve; Spell-bound within the clustering Cyclades !
Then seek Anselmo's cavern, to report Nor seems this homage foreign to his strain, The tale too tedious-when the triumph short. His Corsair's isle was once thine own domainWould that with freedom it were thine again!
In that wild council words wax'd warm and strange, III.
With thoughts of ransom, rescue, and revenge; l'he Sun hath sunk-and, darker than the night,
All, save repose or flight: still lingering there
Breathed Conrad's spirit, and forbade despair ; Sinks with its beam upon the beacon height,
Whate'er his fate the breasts he form'd and led Medora's heart-the third day's come and gone
Will save him living, or appease him dead. With it he comes not-sends not-faithless one!
Wo to his foes! there yet survive a few, The wind was fair though light; and storms were whose deeds are daring, as their hearts are true. Last eve Anselmo's bark return'd, and yet His only tidings that they had not met!
Within the Haram's secret chamber sate Though wild, as now, far different were the tale,
Stern Seyd, still pondering o'er his Captive's fate; Had Conrad waited for that single sail.
His thoughts on love and hate alternate dwell, The night-breeze freshens--she that day had past Now with Gulnare, and now in Conrad's cell; In watching all that Hope proclaim'd a mast; Here at his fect the lovely slave reclined Sadly she sate-on high-Impatience bore
Surveys his brow-would sooth his gloom of mind
But inly views his victim as he bleeds.
His doom is fix'd-he dies : and well his fate
Was earn'd—yet much too worthless for thy hate: Whose inmates first beheld whom first they sought; Methinks, a short release, for ransom told Some bleeding-all most wretched-these the few With all his treasure, not unwisely sold; Scarce knew they how escaped—this all they knew. Report speaks largely of his pirate-hoard In silence, darkling, each appear'd to wait Would that of this my Pacha were the lord ! His fellow's mournful guess at Conrad's fate : While baffled, weaken'd by this fatal fraySomething they would have said ; but seem'd to fear Watch'd-follow'd-he were then an easier prey; To trust their accents to Medora's ear.
But once cut off-the remnant of his band She saw at once, yet sunk not-trembled not Embark their wealth, and seek a safer strand." Beneath that grief, that loneliness of lot; Within that meck fair form, were feelings high, “Gulnare !--if for each drop of blood a gem That deem'd not till they found their energy. Were offer'd rich as Stamboul's diadem;
If for each hair of his a massy mine
|"Twaś worn-perhaps decay'd-et silent bore of virgin ore should supplicating shine;
That conflict deadlier far than all before: If all our Arab tales divulge or dream
The heat of fight, the hurry of the gale, Of wealth were here that gold should not redeem ! Leave scarce one thought inert enough to quail; It had not now redeem'd a single hour;
But bound and fix'd in fetter'd solitude, But that I know him fetter'd in my power ; To pine, the prey of every changing mood; And, thirsting for revenge, I ponder still
To gaze on thine own heart; and meditate On pangs that longest rack, and latest kill." Irrevocable faults, and coming fate
Too late the last to shun-the first to mend "Nay, Seyd !-I seek not to restrain thy rage, To count the hours that struggle to thine end, Too justly moved for mercy to assuage;
With not a friend to animate, and tell My thoughts were only to secure for thee
To other ears that death became thee well. His riches-thus released, he were not free: Around thee foes to forge the ready lie, Disabled, shorn of half his might and band,
And blot life's latest scene with calumny, His capture could but wait thy first command.” Before the tortures, which the soul can dare,
Yet doubts how well the shrinking flesh may bear; "His capture could !—and shall I then resign But deeply feels a single cry would shame, One day to him—the wretch already mine?
To valor's praise thy last and dearest claim; Release my foe!-at whose remonstrance ?-thine
The life thou leav'st below, denied above Fair suitor !-to thy virtuous gratitude,
By kind monopolists of heavenly love; That thus repays this Giaour's relenting mood,
And more than doubtful paradise-thy heaven Which thee and thine alone of all could spare,
of earthly hope thy loved one from thee riven. No doubt-regardless if the prize were fair,
Such were the thoughts that outlaw must sustain, My thanks and praise alike are due-now hear! And govern pangs surpassing mortal pain : I have a counsel for thy gentler ear :
And those sustain'd he-boots it well or ill ? I do mistrust thee, woman! and each word
Since not to sink beneath, is something still ! Of thine stamps truth on all Suspicion heard. Borne in his arms through fire from yon Serai
VII. Saswert thou lingering there with him to fly?
The first day pass'd-he saw not her-Gulnare Thou need'st not answer-thy confession speaks,
The second--third-and still she came not there; Already reddening on thy guilty cheeks;
But what her words avouch'd, her charms had done Then lovely dame, bethink thee! and beware:
Or else he had not seen another sun. "Tis not his life alone may claim such care !
The fourth day roll'd along and with the night, Another word and-nay-I need no more. Came storm and darkness in their mingling might: Accursed was the moment when he bore
Oh! how he listen'd to the rushing deep, 1 Thee from the flames, which better far-but-now That ne'er till now so broke upon his sleep; I then had mourn'd thee with a lover's wo–
And his wild spirit Wilder wishes sent, Now 'tis thy lord that warns-deceitful thing!
Roused by the roar of his own element! Know'st thou that I can clip thy wanton wing? Oft had he ridden on that winged wave, In words alone I am not wont to chafe:
And loved its roughness for the speed it gave; Look to thyself-nor deem thy falsehood safe!”'
And now its dashing echo'd on his ear,
A long known voice-alas ! too vainly near! He rose and slowly, sternly thence withdrew,
Loud sung the wind above; and, doubly loud, Rage in his eye, and threats in his adieu :
Shook o'er his turret cell the thunder-cloud; Ah! little reck'd that chief of womanhood
And flashed the lightning by the latticed bar, Which frowns ne'er quell’d, nor menaces subdued ; To him more genial than the midnight star: And little deem'd he what thy heart, Gulnare !
Close to the glimmering grate he dragg'd his chain, When soft could feel, and when incensed could dare. And hoped that peril might not prove in vain. His doubts appear'd to wrong-nor yet she knew He raised his iron hand to Heaven, and pray'd How deep the root from whence compassion grew-One pitying flash to mar the form it made: She was a slave—from such may captives claim
His steel and impious prayer attract alike A fellow-feeling, differing but in name;
The storm rollid onward, and disdain'd to strike; Still half unconscious-heedless of his wrath,
Its peal wax'd fainter-ceased-he felt alone, Again she ventured on the dangerous path,
As if some faithless friend had spurn'd his groan! Again his rage repellid-until arose That strife of thought, the source of woman's woes.
The midnight pass'd-and to the massy door
A light step came it paused—it moved once more ;
Whate'er her sins, to him a guardian saint, When every hour might doom him worse than dead, And beauteous still as hermit's hope can paint; When every step that echo'd by the gate
Yet changed since last within that cell she came, Might entering lead where axe and stake await; More pale her cheek, more tremulous her frame: When every voice that grated on his ear
On him she cast her dark and hurried eye, Might be the last that he could ever hear; Which spoke before her accents—thou must die Could terror tame--that spirit stern and high Yes, thou must die-there is but one resource, Had proved unwilling as unfit to die;
The last-the worst-if torture were not worse."
“Lady! I look to none-my lips proclaim But had he not thus menaced fame and life,
Oh! could'st thou prove my truth, thou would's!
not start, “Why should I seek ? because-Oh! didst thou not Redeem my life from worse than slavery's lot?
Nor fear the fire that lights an Eastern hcart; Why should I seek ?-hath misery made thee blind 'Tis now the beacon of thy safety-now
It points within the port a Maniote prov:
But in one chamber, where our path must lead, With all that woman feels, but should not tell
There sleeps—he must not wakethe oppres for Because—despite thy crimes—that heart is moved:
Seyd!" It fear'd thee-thank'd thee-pitied-madden'd
“Gulnare-Gulnare-I never felt till now loved : Reply ngt, tell not now thy tale again,
My abject fortune, wither'd fame so low. Thou lov'st another-and I love in vain ;
Seyd is mine enemy: had swept my band
From earth with ruthless but with open hand, Though fond as mine her bosom, form more fair,
And therefore came I, in my bark of war,
To smite the smiter with the scimitar ;
Such is my weapon—not the secret knife
Who spares a woman's seeks not slumber's life. What hath such gentle dame to do with home?
Thine saved I gladly, Lady, not for this But speak not now-o'er thine and o'er my head
Let me not deem that mercy shown amiss. Hangs the keen sabre by a single thread;
Now fare thee well—more peace be with thy breast! If thou hast courage still, and would'st be free,
Night wears apace-my last of earthly rest!” Receive this poniard-rise-and follow me!”
“Rest! rest! by sunrise must thy sinews shake,
And thy limbs writhe around the ready stake. "Ay-in my chains ! my steps will gently tread,
I heard the order-saw-I will not see With these adornments, o'er each slumbering head! If thou wilt perish, I will fall with thee. Thou hast forgot-is this a garb for flight ?
My life my love-my hatred-all below Or is that instrument more fit for fight?"
Are on this cast-Corsair! 'tis but a blow!
Without it flight were idle-how evade “Misdoubting Corsair ! I have gain'd the guard, His sure pursuit ? my wrongs too unrepaid, Ripe for revolt, and greedy for, reward.
My youth disgraced—the long, long wasted years, A single word of mine removes that chain: One blow shall cancel with our future fears; Without some aid how here could I remain ? But since the dagger suits thee less than brand, Well, since we met, hath sped my busy time, I'll try the firmness of a female hand; If in aught evil, for thy sake the crime:
The guards are gain'd-one moment all were o'ert
And gathering, as he could, the links that bound But he has said it—and the jealous well,
His form, to curl their length, and curb their sound, Those tyrants, teasing, tempting to rebel, Since bar and bolt no more his steps preclude, Deserve the fate their fretting lips foretell. He, fast as fetter'd limbs allow, pursued. I never loved he bought me-somewhat high 'Twas dark and winding, and he knew not where Since with me came a heart he could not buy. That passage led; nor lamp nor guard were there : I was a slave unmurmuring: he hath said, He sees a dusky glimmering-shall he seek But for his rescue I with thee had fled.
Or shun that ray so indistinct and weak ? 'Twas false thou know'st—but let such augurs rue, Chance guides his steps--a freshness seems to bear Their words are omens Insult renders true. Full on his brow, as if from morning airNor was thy respite granted to my prayer ; He reach'd an open gallery-on his eye This fleeting grace was only to prepare
Gleamed the last star of night, the clearing sky: New torments for thy life, and my despair. Yet scarcely heeded these-another light Mine too he threatens ; but his dotage still From a lone chamber struck upon his sight. Would fain reserve me for his lordly will ; Towards it he moved ; a scarcely closing door When wearier of these fleeting charms and me, Reveal'd the ray within, but nothing more. There yawns the sack-and yonder rolls the sea ! With hasty step a figure outward past, What, am I then a toy for dotard's play,
Then paused—and turn'd-and paused-'tis She at To wear but till the gilding frets away?
last! I saw thee-loved thee-owe thee all-would save, No poniard in that hand-nor sign of ill— [kill!" If, but to show how grateful is a slave.
" Thanks to that softening heart-she could not