Trust me, Zuleika-fear not me!

Thou know'st I hold a harem key."

"Fear thee, my Selim! ne'er till now Did word like this-"

"Delay not thou;

I keep the key-and Haroun's guard
Have some, and hope, of more reward.
To-night, Zuleika, thou shalt hear
My tale, my purpose, and my fear-
I am not, love! what I appear."

The Bride of Abydos.

CANTO THE SECOND.

THE winds are high on Helle's wave,
As on that night of stormy water
When Love-who sent-forgot to save
The young, the beautiful, the brave,
The lonely hope of Sestos' daughter.
Oh! when alone along the sky
Her turret-torch was blazing high,
Though rising gale, and breaking foam,

And shrieking sea-birds warn'd him home;
And clouds aloft, and tides below,
With signs and sounds, forbade to go,
He could not see, he would not hear,
Or sound or sign foreboding fear;
His eye but saw that light of love,
The only star it hail'd above;

His ear but rang with Hero s song,

"Ye waves divide not lovers long!" That tale is old, but love anew

May nerve young hearts to prove as true.

II.

The winds are high, and Helle's tide Rolls darkly heaving to the main ; And Night's descending shadows hide That field with blood bedew'd in vain; The desert of old Priam's pride;

The tombs, sole relics of his reign, All-save immortal dreams that could be

guile

The blind old man of Scio's rocky isle!

III.

Oh! yet-for there my steps have been; These feet have press'd the sacred shore, These limbs that buoyant wave hath borneMinstrel! with thee to muse, to mourn,

To trace again those fields of yore,

Believing every hillock green

Contains no fabled hero's ashes,

And that around the undoubted scene

Thine own "broad Hellespont" 23 still Be long my lot! and cold were he [dashes, Who there could gaze denying thee!

IV.

The night hath closed on Helle's stream,
Nor yet hath risen on Ida's hill

That moon, which shone on his high theme;
No warrior chides her peaceful beam,

But conscious shepherds bless it still. Their flocks are grazing on the mound Of him who felt the Dardan's arrow; That mighty heap of gather'd ground Which Ammon's 24 son ran proudly round, By nations rais'd, by monarchs crown'd, Is now a lone and nameless barrow! Within-thy dwelling-place how narrow! Without-can only strangers breathe The name of him that was beneath.

Dust long outlasts the storied stone;
But Thou-thy very dust is gone!

Late, late to night will Dian cheer
The swain, and chase the boatman's fear;
Till then-no beacon on the cliff

May shape the course of struggling skiff;
The scatter'd lights that skirt the bay,
All, one by one, have died away;
The only lamp of this lone hour

Is glimmering in Zuleika's tower.

Yes! there is light in that lone chamber, And o'er her silken Ottoman

Are thrown the fragrant beads of amber,
O'er which her fairy fingers ran; 25

Near these, with emerald rays beset,
(How could she thus that gem forget?)
Her mother's sainted amulet, 26

Whereon engraved the Koorsee text,

Could smooth this life, and win the next;