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And unto ears as rugged seern'd a song! Her white wings flying-never from ber In scatter'd groups upon the golden sand,
foesThey game-carouse–converse—or whet She walks the waters like a thing of life,
the brand; And seems to dare the elements to strife. Select the arms—to each his blade assign, Who would not brave the battle-fire-tho And careless eye the blood that dims its
To move the monarch of her peopled deck? Repair the boat, replace the helm or oar, While others straggling muse along the Hoarse o'er her side the rustling cable shore;
rings; For the wild bird the busy springes set, The sails are furld; and anchoring round Or spread beneath the sun the dripping net;
she swings: Gaze where some distant sail a speck And gathering loiterers on the land discern
supplies, With all the thirsting eye of Enterprise; 'Tis mann'd- the oars keep concert to the
Her boat descending from the latticed stern. Tell o'er the tales of many a night of toil,
strand, And marvel where they next shall seize a Till grates her keel upon the shallow sand.
Hail to the welcome-shout!-the friendly No matter where—their chief's allotment
When hand grasps hand uniting on the Theirs, to believe no prey nor plan amiss.
beach; But who that Chief? his name on every The smile, the question, and the quick reply,
And the heart's promise of festivity!
The tidings spread, and gathering grows Few are his words, but keen his
the crowd : and
The hum of voices, and the laughter loud, Ne’er seasons he with mirth their jovial And woman's gentler anxious tone is heard
Friends'– husbands?-lovers' names in each
dear word: But they forgive his silence for success. Ne'er for his lip the purpling cup they fill, "Oh! are they safe? we ask not of snccess
But shall we see them? will their accents That goblet passes him untasted stillAnd for his fare-the rudest of his crew
- the billows Would that, in turn, have pass'd untasted too; From where the battle roars
chafe Earth's coarsest bread, the garden's home
They doubtless boldly did - but who are And scarce the summer-luxury of fruits,
safe? His short repast in humbleness supply
Here let them haste to gladden and surprizo, With all a hermit's board would scarce deny. And kiss the doubt from these delighted But while he shuns the grosser joys of sense, His mind seems nonrish'd by that abstinence. “Steer to that shore !”- they sail. “Do 6 Where is our chief? for him we bear this !"_ 'tis done:
report "Now form and follow me!"—the spoil is And doubt that joy - which hails our coin
ing-short; Thus prompt his accents and his actions Yet thus sincere – 'tis cheering, though 80 still,
brief; And all obey and few inquire his will; But, Juan! instant guide us to our chief: To such, brief answer and contemptuous eye Our greeting paid, we'll feast on our retnrn, Convey reproof, nor further deign reply. And all shall hear what each may wish to
Ascending slowly by the rock-hewn way, “A sail !- a sail!”-a promised prize to To where his watch-tower beetles o'er the Hope!
bay, Her nation-flag- how speaks the telescope? By bushy brake, and wild flowers blossomNo prize, alas! - but yet a welcome sail :
ing, The blood-red signal glitters in the gale. And freshness breathing from each silverYes-she is ours - a home-returning bark
spring, Blow fair, thou breeze?- she anchors ere Whose scatter'd streams from granite basins the dark.
burst, Already doubled is the cape—our bay Leap into life, and sparkling woo your Receives that prow which proudly spurns
From crag to cliff they mount--Near yonder How gloriously her gallant course she goes!
What lonely straggler looks along the wave? | Still sways their souls with that commandIn pensive posture leaning on the brand,
ing art Not oft a resting-staff to that red hand? That dazzles, leads, yet chills the vulgar "Tis he 'tis Conrad - here--as wont
What is that spell, that thus his lawless On-Juan! on -- and make our purpose known.
train The bark he views - and tell him we would Confess and envy, yet oppose in vain?
What should it be? that thus their faith His ear with tidings he must quickly meet:
can bind ? We dare not yet approach-thou know'st his The power of Thought-the magic of tho mood,
Mind! When strauge or uninvited steps intrude.” Link'd with success, assumed and kept with
That moulds another's weakness to its will; Him Juan sought, and told of their intent- Wields with their hands, but, still to these He spake not-but a sign express'd assent.
unknown, TheseJuan calls, they come-- to their salute Makes even their mightiest deeds appear He bends him slightly, but his lips are mute.
his own. “These letters, Chief, are from the Greek-- Such hath it been-shall be-beneath the sun Who still proclaims our spoil or péril nigh: "Tis Nature's doom-but let the wretch who
The many still must labour for the one! Whate'er his tidings, we can well report,
toils Much that” _“Peace, peace!”– He cuts their Accuse not, hate not him who wears the
prating short. Wondering they turn, abash’d, while each Oh! if he knew the weight of splendid
spoils. to each
chains, Conjecture whispers in his muttering speech: How light the balance of his humbler pains ! They watch his glance with many a steal
ing look, To gather how that eye the tidings took;
Unlike the heroes of each ancient race, But, this as if he guess'd, with head aside, Demons in act, but Gods at least in face, Perchance from some emotion, doubt, or In Conrad's form seems little to admire,
Though his dark eye-brow shades a glance He read the scroll -—"My tablets, Juan,
of fire: hark
Robust but not Herculean - to the sight Where is Gonsalvo ?” “In the anchor'd bark." Yet, in the whole, who paused to look
Nogiant frame sets forth his common height; “There let him stay-to him this order bear.
again, Back to your duty-for my course prepare: Saw more than marks the crowd of vulgar Myself this enterprize to-night will share.”
men; “To-night, Lord Conrad ? »
They gaze and marvel how -- and still confess
“Ay! at set of sun: That thus it is, but why they cannot guess, The breeze will freshen when the day is Sun-burnt his cheek, his forehead high and done.
pale My corslet - cloak – - one hour, and we are the sable curls in wild profusion veil,
And oft perforce his rising lip reveals Sling on thy bugle- see that free from rust, The haughtier thought it curbs, but scarce My carbine-lock springs worthy of my trust;
conceals. Be the edge sharpen d of my boarding-brand, Though smooth his voice, and calm his And give its guard more room to fit my hand. This let the Armourer with speed dispose ; Still seems there something he would not
general mien, Last time it more fatigued my arm than
have seen: foes:
His features'deepening lines and varying hne Mark that the signal-gun be duly fired To tell us when the hour of stay's expired.” | As if within that murkiness of mind
At times attracted, yet perplex'd the view,
Work'd feelings fearful, and yet undefined; They make obeisance, and retire in haste, Such might it be – that none could truly Too soon to seek again the watery waste:
tell Yet they repine not-so that Conrad guides ; Too close inquiry his stern glance would And who dare question aught that he decides?
quell. That man of loneliness and mystery, There breathe but few whose aspect might Scarce seen to smile,and seldom heard to sigh;
defy Whose name appals the fiercest of his crew, The full encounter of his searching eye; And tints each swarthy cheek with sallower He had the skill, when Cunning's gaze hue ;
To probe his heart and watch his changing He hated man too inuch to feel remorse,
And thought the voice of wrath a sacred call, At once the observer's purpose to espy, To pay the injuries of some on all. And on himself roll back his scrutiny, He knew himself a villain- but he deem'd Lest he to Conrad rather shonld betray The rest no better than the thing he seem'd; Some secret thought, than drag that chief's And scorn'd the best as hypocrites who hid
Those deeds the bolder spirit plainly did. There was a laughing Devil in his sneer, He knew himself detested, but he knew That raised emotions both of rage and fear; The hearts that loathed him, crouch'd and And where his frown of hatred darkly fell,
dreaded too. Hope withering fled—and Mercy sigh'd Lone, wild, and strange, he stood alike farewell!
From all affection and from all contempt : Slight are the outward signs of evil His name could sadden, and his acts surprise;
But they that fear'd him dared not to despise : Within – within —'twas there the spirit The slumbering venoin of the folded snake:
Man spurns the worm, but pauses ere he wake Love shows all changes Hate, Ambition, | The first may turn—but not avenge the Guile,
blow; Betray no further than the bitter smile;
The last expires - but leaves no living foe; The lip's least curl, the lightest paleness Fast to the doom'd offender's form it clings,
And he may crush-not conquer-still it Along the governd aspect, speak alone
stings! of deeper passions; and to judge their mien, He, who would see, must be himself unseen.
None are all evil – quickening round his Then- with the hurried tread, the upward One softer feeling would not yet depart;
heart, eye, The clenched hand, the pause of agouy,
Oft could he sneer at others as beguiled That listens, starting, lest the step too near
By passions worthy of a fool or child; Approach intrusive on that mood of fear:
Yet 'gainst that passion vainly still he strove, Then—with each feature working from the And even in him it asks the name of Love!
Yes, it was love-unchangeable-unchanged, With feelings loosed to strengthen-not
Felt but for one from whom he never ranged; depart:
Though fairest captives daily met his eye, That rise - convulse--contend - that freeze,
He shunn'd, nor sought, but coldly pass’d
them by; or glow, Flush in the cheek, or damp upon the brow; Though many a beauty droop'd in prison'd
bower Then - Stranger! if thou canst, and trem
None ever soothed his most unguarded hour. Behold his soul- the rest that soothes his lot! Yes - it was Love if thoughts of tenderness, Mark-how that lone and blighted bosom Tried in temptation, strengthen’d by distress,
Unmoved by absence, firm in every clime, The scathing thought of execrated years!
And yet - Oh more than all!-untired by
time; Behold—but who hath seen, or e'er shalls
Which nor defeated hope, nor baffled wile
Nor rage could fire, nor sickness fret to vent
calmness part, His soul was changed, before his deeds had Lest that his look of grief should reach driven
her heart; Him forth to war with man and forfeit Which nought removed, nor menaced to
heaven. Warpd by the world in Disappointment's If there be love in mortals - this was love!
He was a villain - ay - reproaches shower In words too wise, in conduct there a fool; On him - but not the passion, nor its power, Too firm to yield, and far too proud to stoop, Which only proved, all other virtues gone, Doom'd by his very virtues for a dupe, Not guilt itself could quench this loveliest He cursed those virtues as the cause of ill,
one! And not the traitors who betray'd him still; Vor deem'd that gifts bestow'd on better men He paused a moment - till his hastening Had left him joy, and means to give again. Fear'd – shunnd-belied - ere youth had Pass'd the first winding downward to the
lost her force,
"Strange tidings!--many a peril have I past, “Remember me- Oh! pass not thou my Nor know I why this next appears the last!
grave Yet so my heart forebodes, but must not Without one thought whose relics there fear,
recline: Nor shall my followers find me falter here. The only pang my bosom dare not brave, 'T'is rash to meet, but surer death to wait Must be to find forgetfulness in thine. Till here they hunt us to undoubted fate; And, if my plan but hold, and Fortune smile,
“My sondest — faintest – latest — accents We'll furnish mourners for our funeral-pile.
hear: Ay- let them slumber-peaceful be their Grief for the dead not Virtue can reprove;
dreams! Morn ne'er awoke them with such brilliant The first - last-sole reward of so much
Then give me all I ever asked - a tear, beams
love!" As kindle high to-night (but blow, thou
breeze!) To warm these slow avengers of the seas. He pass’d the portal – crossd the corridore, Now to Medora-Oh! my sinking heart,
And reach'd the chamber as the strain gave Long may her own be lighter than thou art!
o'er: Yet was I brave-mean boast where all are
“My own Medora! sure thy song is sad —" Even insects sting for aught they seek to
“In Conrad's absence wouldst thou have This common courage which with brutes
it glad? we share,
Without thine ear to listen to my lay, That owes its deadliest efforts to despair, Still must my song my thoughts, my soul Small merit claims - but 'twas my nobler
Still must each accent to my bosoin suit, To teach my few with numbers still to cope; My heart unhush'd- although my lips were Long have I led them, not to vainly bleed:
mute! No medium now, we perish or succeed! Oh! many a night on this lone couch reSo let it be-it irks not me to die;
clined, But thus to urge them whence they cannot My dreaming fear with storms hath wing 'd fly.
the wind, My lot hath long had little of my care, And deem'd the breath that faintly fann'd Butchafes my pride thus baffled in the snare:
thy sail Is this my skill? my craft? to set at last The murmuring prelude of the ruder gale; Hope, power, and life upon a single cast? Though soft, it seem'd the low prophetic Oh, Fate!- accuse thy folly, not thy fate
dirge, She may redeem thee still - nor yet too late." That mourn’d thee floating on the savage
surge: Thus with hinself communion held he, Still would I rise to rouse the beacon-fire,
Lest spies less true should let the blaze till
expire; He reach'd the summit of his tower-crown'd
star, There at the portal paused —for wild and And morning came—and still thou wert
soft He heard those accents never heard too oft; oh! how the chill blast on my bosom blew,
afar. Throngh the high lattice far yet sweet they And day broke dreary on my troubled view,
rung, And these the notes his bird of beauty sung: Was granted to my tears-my truth-my
And still I gazed and gazed - and not a prow
vow! Deep in my soul that tender secret
At length – 'twas noon I hail'd and blest
the mast dwells, Lonely and lost to light for evermore,
That met iny sight - it near'd-- Alas! it past!
Another came – Oh God! 'twas thine at last! Save when to thine my heart responsive Would that those days were over! wilt swells,
thou ne'er, Then trembles into silence as before.
My Conrad! learn the joys of peace to
share? - There, in its centre, a sepulchral lamp Sure thou hast more than wealth, and many Burns the slow flame, eternal-but unseen,
a hone Which not the darkness of despair can As bright as this invites us not to roam :
Thou knowst it is not peril that I fear, Though vain its ray as it had never been. I only tremble when thou art not here;
Then not for mine, but that far dearer life, We'll turn the tale, by Ariosto told,
Why-thou wert worse than he who broke How strange that heart, to me so tender still,
his vow Should war with nature and its better will!” | Tu that lost damsel, shouldst thou leave
Or even that traitor-chief-I've seen thee “Yea, strange indeed—that heart hath
smile, long been changed; When the clear sky show'd Ariadne's Isle, Worm-like 'twas trampled adder - like
Which I have pointed from these clifís the avenged,
while: Without one hope on earth beyond thy love, and thus, half sportive, half in fear, I said, And scarce a glimpse of mercy from above. Lest Time should raise that doubt to more Yet the same feeling which thou dost
than dread, condemn,
Thus Conrad, too, will quit me for the main: My very love to thee is hate to them,
And he deceived me- e-for-he came again!” So closely mingling here, that disentwined, I cease to love thee when I love mankind. Yet dread not this—the proof of all the past
“Again-again--and oft again --my love! Assures the future that my love will last; If there be life below and hope above, But—Oh, Medora! nerve ihy gentler heart, He will return—but now, the moments bring This hour again—but not for long-we The time of parting with redoubled wing:
The why—the where—what boots it now
Since all must end in that wild word. “This hour we part my heart foreboded
Yet would I fain-did time allow-disThus ever fade my fairy-dreams of bliss.
closeThis hour-it cannot be—this hour away! Fear not-these are no formidable foes; Yon bark hath hardly anchored in the bay: And here shall watch a more than wonted Her consort still is absent, and her crew
guard, Have need of rest before they toil anew; For sudden siege and long defence prepared : My love! thou muck’st my weakness; and Nor be thou lonely-though thy lord's away,
Our matrons and thy handmaids with thee My breast before the time when it must feel;
stay ; But trifle now no more with my distress,
And this thy comfort—that, when next we Such mirth hath less of play than bitterness.
meet, Be silent, Conrad !-- dearest! come and Security shall make repose more sweet:
List!— 'tis the bugle-Juan shrilly blewThe feast these hands delighted to prepare; One kiss-one more-another-Oh! Adieu!” Light toil! to call and dress thy frugal fare! See, I have pluck'd the fruit that promised
She rose—she sprung—she clung to his And where not sure, perplex’d, but pleased, till his heart heaved beneath her hidden
embrace, I guess'd
face. At such as seem'd the fairest: thrice the hill My steps have wound to try the coolest rill; He dared not raise to his that deep-blue eye Yes! thy Sherbet to night will sweetly flow, Which downcast droop'd in tearless agony. See how it sparkles in its vase of snow!
Her long fair hair lay floating o'er his The grapes' gay juice thy bosom never
In all the wildness of dishevell'd charms; Thou more than Moslem when the cup
Scarce beat that bosom where his image
dwelt appears : Think not I mean to chide, for I rejoice So full—that feeling seem'd alınost unfelt! What others deem a penance is thy choice. Hark-peals the thunder of the signal-gun! But come, the board is spread; our silver- it told 'twas sunset—and he cursed that sun.
Again-again- that form he madly press'd! ; Is trimmd, and heeds not the Sirocco's Which mutely clasp'd, imploringly caress’d!
And tottering to the couch his bride he bore, Then shall my handmaids while the time One moment gazed—as if to gaze no more; along,
Felt-that for him earth held but her alone, And join me in the dance, or wake the song;
Kiss'd her cold forehead-turn'd-is ConOr any guitar, which still thou lovest to
rad gone? hear, Shall soothe or lull-or, should it vex thine "And is he gone?"--on sudden solitude
How oft that fearful question will intrude?