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Which adds all other agony to thirst, In the high chamber of his highest tower, That day by day death still forbears to slake, Sate Conrad, fetter'd in the Pacha's power. While famish'd vultures flit around the stake. His palace perish'd in the flame-this fort “Oh! water – water!” – smiling Hate denies Containd at once his captive and his court. The victim's prayer – for if he drinks – he Not much could Conrad of his sentence dies.
blame, This was his doom:-the Leech, the guard His foe, if vanquish’d, had but shared the
were gone, And left proud Conrad fetter'd and alone. Alone he sate-in solitude had scann'd
His guilty bosom, but that breast he mann'd:
One thought alone he could not - dared Twere vain to paint to what his feelings
not meet grew
“Oh, how these tidings will Medora greet?” It even were doubtful if their victim knew. Then only then his clanking hands he There is a war, a chaos of the mind,
raised, When all its elements convulsed com- And strain’d with rage the chain on which bined
he gazed ; Lie dark and jarring with perturbed force, But soon he found—or feign'd—or dream'd And gnashing with impenitent Remorse;
relief, That juggling fiend who never spake And sıniled in self-derision of his grief:
• And now come torture when it will or But cries, “I warnd thee!" when the deed
may, is o'er.
More need of rest to nerve me for the day!” Vain voice! the spirit burning but unbent, This said, with languor to his mat he crepit, May writhe-rebel - the weak alone repent! And, whatsoe'er his visions, quickly slept. Even in that lonely hour when most it feels, And, to itself, all - all that self reveals, No single passion, and no rolling thought
'Twas hardly midnight when that fray That leaves the rest at once unseen, unsought; For Conrad's plans matured, at once were
begun, But the wild prospect when the soul reviews
done; All rushing through their thousand avenues. And Havoc loathes so much the waste of time, Ambition's dreams expiring, love's regret. She scarce had left an uncommitted crime.
One hour beheld him since the tide he Endanger'd glory, life itself beset; The joy untasted, the contempt or hate
stemm'd Gainst those who fain would triumph in Disguised- discover'd conquering-ta'en our fate;
-condemn'dThe hopeless past, the hasting future driven A chief on land-art-outlaw on the deepToo quickly on to guess if hell or hearen; Destroying—saving - prison d—and asleep! Deeds, thoughts, and words, perhaps remem
He slept in calmest seeming -- for liis So keenly till that hour, but ne'er forgot ;
breath Things light or lovely in their acted time, Was hush'd so deep-Ah! happy if in But now to stern reflection each a crime;
death! The withering sense of evil unreveald, He slept—who o'er his placid slumber bends? Not cankering less because the more con- His foes are gone -- and here he hath no ceal'd
friends; All, in a word, from which all eyes must Is it some seraph sent to grant him grace?
No, 'tis an earthly form with heavenly face ! That opening sepulchre—the naked heart Its white arm raised a lamp-yet gently hid, Bares with its buried woes, till Pride awake, Lest the ray flash abruptly on the lid To snatch the mirror from the soul—and of that closed eye, which opens but to pain,
And once unclosed but once may close Ay-Pride can veil, and Courage brave it all,
again. All-all - before — beyond — the deadliest That form, with eye so dark, and cheek so fair,
And auburn waves of gemm’d and braided Each hath some fear, and he who least
With shape of fairy lightness-naked foot, The only hypocrite deserving praise : That shines like snow, and falls on earth Sot the loud recreant wretch who boasts
as inuteand fies ;
Through guards and dunnest night how But he who looks on death---and silent dies.
came it there? So steeld by pondering o'er his far career, Ah! rather ask what will not woman dare ? He halfway meets him should he menace Whom youth and pity lead like thee, near!
She could not sleep--and while the Pacha's | Till even the scaffold echoes with their jest !
Yet not the joy to which it seems akinIn muttering dreams yet saw his pirate- It may deceive all hearts, save that within.
Whate'er it was that flash'd on Conrad, now She left his side-- his signet-ring she bore, A laughing wildness half unbent his brow: Which oft in sport adornd her hand before- And these his accents had a sound of mirth, And with it,scarcely question d,won her way As if the last he could enjoy on earth; Through drowsy guards that must that Yet 'gainst his nature — for through that sign obey.
short life, Worn out with toil, and tired with changing Few thoughts had he to spare from gloom blows,
and strife. Their eyes had envied Conrad his repose; And chill and nodding at the turret-door,
“ Corsair! thy doom is named - but I They stretch their listless limbs, and watch
no more ;
To soothe the Pacha in his weaker hour. Just raised their heads to hail the signet- Thee would I spare – nay more – would ring,
save thee now, Nor ask or what or who the sign may bring. But this -- time – hope even thy
strength allow; She gazed in wonder , “Can he calmly But all I can, I will : at least,. delay
The sentence that remits thee scarce a day. While other eyes his fall or ravage weep? More now were ruin-even thyself were loth And mine in restlessness are wandering here. The vain attempt should bring but doom What sudden spell hath made this man so
to both." dear? T'rue— 'tis to him my life, and more I owe, “ Yes !- loth indeed :-my soul is nerved And me and mine he spared from worse
to all, than woe:
Or fall'n too low to fear a further fall: 'Tis late to think - but soft – his slumber Tempt not thyself with peril; me with hope,
Of flight from foes with whom I could not How heavily he sighs!-- he starts--awakes!”
cope: He raised his head --and dazzled with the Unfit to vanquish - shall I meanly fly,
The one of all my band that would not die? His eye seem'd dubious if it saw aright: Yet there is one – to whom my memory He moved his hand ---thegrating of his chain
clings, Too harshly told him that he lived again. Till to these eyes her own wild softness “ What is that form?, if not a shape of air,
springs. Methinks my jailor's face shows wondrous My sole resources in the path I trod
my sword – my
love-my God! “ Pirate! thou knowst me not — but I The last I left in youth - he leaves me now
And man but works his will to lay me low. Grateful for deeds thou hast too rarely done; I have no thought to mock his throne with Look on me, and remember her, thy hand
prayer Snatch'd from the flames, and thy more Wrung from the coward crouching of fearful band.
despair; I come through darkness- and I scarce know It is enough-I breathe—and I can bear.
My sword is shaken from the worthless hand Yet not to hurt - I wonld not see thee die.” That might have better kept so true a brand;
My bark is sunk or captive - but my love“If so, kind lady! thine the only eye
For her in sooth my voice would mount That would not here in that gay hope
Oh! she is all that still to earth can bindTheirs is the chance- and let them use their Ayd this will break a heart so more than right.
kind, But still I thank their courtesy or thine,
And blight a form till thine appeared, That would confess me at so fair a shrine!”
Mine eye ne'er ask'd if others were as fair?" Strange though it seem, yet with extremest grief
" Thou lov'st another then? - but what Is link'd a mirth, it doth not bring relief
to me That playfulness of Sorrow ne'er beguiles, Is this --'tis nothing -- nothing e'er can be : And smiles in bitterness - but still it smiles ; But yet thou lovest – and -- Oh! I envy And sometimes with the wisest and the best. I
Whose hearts on hearts as faithful can repose, | What gem hath dropp'd and sparkles o'er Who never feel the void – the wandering
his chain? thought
The tear most sacred, shed for other's pain, That sighs o'er visions—such as mine hath That starts at once – bright - pure- from Wrought."
Already polish'd by the hand divine ! ** Lady methought thy love was his,
for whom This arm redeem'd thee from a fiery tomb.” Oh! too convincing-dangerously dear
In woman's eye the unanswerable tear! My love stern Seyd's! Oh-No-No-That weapon of her weakness she can wield,
not my love- To save, subdue at once her spear and Yet much this heart, that strives no more, | Avoid it-Virtue ebbs and Wisdom errs,
shield : once strove To meet his passion, but it would not be. Too fondly gazing on that grief of hers! I felt-I feel – love dwells with-with the What lost a world, and bade a hero fly?
The timid tear in Cleopatra's eye. I am a slave, a favour'd slave at best,
Yet be the soft triumvir's fault forgiven, To share his splendour, and seem very blest! By this -- how many lose not earth - but Oft must my soul the question undergo,
heaven! Of—• Dost thou love?' and burn to answer Consign their souls to man's eternal foe,
And seal their own to spare some wanton's Oh! hard it is that fondness to sustain,
woe! And struggle not to feel averse in vain; But harder still the heart's recoil to bear, 'Tis inorn - and o’er his alter'd features And hide from one-perhaps another there.
play He takes the hand I give not-nor with- The beams – without the hope of yesterday.
What shall he be ere night? perchance a Its pulse nor check'd -- nor quickend –
thing calmly cold: O'er which the raven flaps her funeral wing, And when resign’d, it drops a lifeless weight By his closed eye unheeded and unfelt, From one I never loved enough to hate. While sets that sun, and dews of evening No warmth these lips return by his imprest,
melt, And chill'd remembrance shudders o'er the Chill-wet- and misty round each stiffen'd
limb, Yes, had I ever proved that passion's zeal, Refreshing earth-reviving all but him! The change to hatred were at least to feel : But still – he goes unmourn’d-returns un
“Come vedi-ancor non m'abbandona."
DANTE. I am his slave-but, in despite of pride, 'Twere worse than bondage to become his Slow sinks, more lovely ere his race bc bride.
run, Oh! that this dotage of his breast would Along Morea's hills the setting sun;
Not, as in Northern climes, obscurely bright, Or seek another and give mine release, But one upclouded blaze of living light! But yesterday- I could have said, to peace! O'er the hush'd deep the yellow beamı he Yes—if unwonted fondness now I feign,
throws, Remember-captive!'tis to break thy chain; Gilds the green wave, that trembles as it Repay the life that to thy hand I owe:
glows. To give thee back to all endear'd below, On old Aegina's rock, and Idra's isle, Who share such love as I can never know. The god of gladness sheds his parting smile; Farewell - - morn breaks—and I must now O’er his own regions lingering,loves to shine,
Though there his altars are no more divine. Twill cost me dear-but dread no death Descending fast the mountain-shadows kiss
Thy glorious gulph, unconquer'd Salamis!
Their azure arches through the long expanse She press'd his fetter'd fingers to her heart, More deeply purpled meet his mellowing And bow'd her head,and turn'd her to depart,
glance, And noiseless as a lovely dream is gone. And tenderest tints, along their summits And was she here? and is he now alone?
Mark his gay course and own the hues of His Corsair's isle was once thine own heaven;
domainTill, darkly shaded from the land and deep, Would that with freedom it were thine Behind his Delphian cliff he sinks to sleep.
On such an eve, his palest beam he cast, The Sun hath sunk — and, darker than When - Athens! here thy Wisest look'd his
the night, last.
Sinks with his beam upon the beacon How watch'd thy better sons his farewell-ray,
heightThat closed their murder'd sage's latest day! Medora's heart- the third day's come and Not yet -- not yet-Sol pauses on the hill –
goneThe precious hour of parting lingers still; With it he comes not -- sends not-faithless But sad his light to agonizing eyes,
one! And dark the mountain's once delightfuldyes: The wind was fair though light; and storms Gloom o'er the lovely land he seem'd to pour, The land, where Phoebus never frown's Last eve Anselmo's bark return'd, and yet
His only tidings that they had not met! But ere he sunk below Cithaeron's head, Though wild, as now, far different were Thecup of woe was quaff?d- the spirit fled;
the tale The soul of him who scorn’d to fear or fly- Had Conrad waited for that single sail. Who lived and died, as none can live or die!
The night breeze freshens-she that day But lo! from high Hymettus to the plain,
had past The queen of night asserts her silent reign. In watching all that Hope proclaim'd a mast; No murky vapour, herald of the storm, Sadly she sate-on high-Impatience bore Hides her fair face, nor girds her glowing At last her footsteps to the midnight shore,
And there she wander'd hecdless of the spray With cornice glimmering as the moon- That dash'd her garments oft, and warn'd beams play,
away: There the white column greets her grateful She saw not-felt not this, nor dared depart,
Nor deem'd it cold-her chill was at her And, bright around with quivering beams
Till grew such certainty from that susHer emblem sparkles o'er the minaret:
penseThe groves of olive scatter'd dark and wide His very Sight had shock'd from life or Where meek Cephisus pours his scanty tide,
sense! The cypress saddening by the sacred mosque, The gleaming turret of the gay Kiosk,
It came at last-a sad and shatter'd boat, And, dun and sombre 'mid the holy calm, Whose inmates first beheld whom first they Near Theseus' fane yon solitary palm,
sought; All tinged with varied hues arrest the eye
Some bleeding-all most wretched—these And dull were his that pass’d them heedless
the fewby. Scarce knew they how escaped - this all
they knew. Again the Acgean, heard no more afar, In' silence, darkling, each appear'd to wait Lulls his chafed breast from elemental war; His fellow's mournful guess at Conrad's fate: Again his waves in milder tints unfold
Something they would have said; but seem'd Their long array of sapphire and of gold,
to fear Mixt with the shades of many a distant isle, To trust their accents to Medora's ear. That frown -- where gentler ocean seems to Shesaw at once yet sunk not-trembled not
Beneath that grief, that loneliness of lot;
Within that meek fair forin were feelings Not now my theme -why turn my thoughts
high, to thce ?
That deem'd not till they found their energy. Oh! who can look along thy native sea, While yet was Hope-they soften'd-flutNor dwell upon thy name, whate'er the tale,
ter'd--weptSo much its magic must o'er all prevail ? All lost—that softness died not—but it slept; Who that beheld that Sun upon thee set, And o'er its slumber rose that Strength Fair Athens ! could thine evening - face
which said, forget?
“With nothing left to love--there's nought Not he-- whose heart nor time nor distance
to dread.” frees,
'Tis more than nature's; like the burning Spell-bound within the clustering Cyclades!
might Nor seems this homage foreign to his strain, | Delirium gathers from the sever's height.
Sits Triumph-Conrad taken-fallin the What-speak not-breathe not-for I know
rest! it well
His doom is fix'd-he dies: and well his fate Yet would I ask-almost my lip denies Was earn'd-yet much too worthlegs for thy The_quick your answer--tell me where
hate: he lies?"
Methinks, a short release, for ransom told
With all his treasure, not unwisely sold; “Lady! we know not-scarce with life Report speaks largely of his pirate-hoard
Would that of this my Pacha were the Lord ! But here is one denies that he is dead :
While baffled, weaken’d by this fatal frayHe saw him bound; and bleeding-but Watch'd-follow'd—he were then an easier alive."
prey ; But once cut off-the remnant of his band
Embark their wealth, and seek a safer She heard no further—'twas in vain to
strand." strive--So throbb'd each vein-each thought-till
“Gulnare !--If for each drop of blood a then withstood;
gem Her own dark soul—these words at once were offer'd rich as Stamboul's diadem;
If for each hair of his a massy mine She totters-falls-and senseless had the
Of virgin-ore should supplicating shine; Perchance but snatch'd her from another of wealth were here-that gold should
If all our Arab tales divulge or dream grave;
not redeem ! But that with hands though rude, yet weep. It had not now redeem'd a single hour,
But that I know him fetter'd, in my power; They yield such aid as Pity's haste supplies : And, thirsting for revenge, I ponder stil! Dasho'er her deathlike cheek the ocean-dew: On pangs that longest rack and latest kill." Raise-fan-sustain, till life returns anew; Awake her handmaids, with the matrons
“Nay, Seyd!—I seek not to restrain thy That fainting form o'er which they gaze
rage, and grieve; Too justly moved for mercy to assuage; Then seek Anselmo's cavern, to report My thoughts were only to secure for thee The tale too tedious---when the triumph His riches—thus released, he were not free:
Disabled, shorn of half his might and band,
His capture could but wait thy first comIn that wild council words wax'd warm
and strange, With thoughts of ransom, rescue, and re- “His capture could!—and shall I then venge;
resign All, save repose or flight: still lingering there One day to him—the wretch already mine? Breathed Conrad's spirit, and forbade despair; Release my foe!-at whose remonstrance?Whate'er his fate - the breasts he form'd
thine! and led,
Fair suitor!-tó thy virtuous gratitude, Will save him living, or appease him dead. That thus repays this Giaour's relenting Woe to his foes! there yet survive a few,
mood, Whose deeds are daring, as their hearts Which thee and thine alone of all could are true.
No doubt-regardless if the prize were fair, Within the Haram's secret chamber sate My thanks and praise alike are due—now Stern Seyd, still pondering o'er his Captive's
I have a counsel for thy gentler ear: His thoughts on love and hate alternate I do mistrust thee, woman! and each word
Of thine stamps truth on all Suspicion heard. Now with Gulnare, and now in Conrad's cell; Borne in his arms through fire from yon Here at his feet the lovely slave reclined
SeraiSurveys his brow-would soothe his gloom Say, wert thou lingering there with him of mind,
to fly? While many an anxious glance her large Thou need'st 'not answer-thy confession
speaks, Sends in its idle search for sympathy, Already reddening on thy guilty cheeks; His only bends in seeming o'er his beads, Then, lovely dame, bethink thee! and But inly views his victim as he bleeds.