I knew our sire at times was stern,
But this from thee had yet to learn:
Too well I know he loves thee not;
But is Zuleika's love forgot?

Ah! deem I right? the Pacha's plan-
This kinsman Bey of Carasman
I'erhaps may prove some foe of thine.
If so, I swear by Mecca's shrine,
If shrines that ne'er approach allow
To woman's step admit her vow,
Without thy free consent, command,
The Sultan should not have my hand!
Think'st thou that I could bear to part
With thee, and learn to halve my heart?
Ah! were I sever'd from thy side,
Where were thy friend-and who my guide?
Years have not seen, time shall not see
The hour that tears my soul from thee:
Even Azrael 18 from his deadly quiver

When flies that shaft, and fly it must,
That parts all else, shall doom for ever
Our hearts to undivided dust!"

XII.

He lived he breathed-he moved--he felt; He raised the maid from where she knelt; His trance was gone-his keen eye shone With thoughts that long in darkness dwelt; With thoughts that burn-in rays that melt. As the stream late conceal'd

By the fringe of its willows, When it rushes reveal'd

In the light of its billows; As the bolt bursts on high

From the black cloud that bound it,
Flash'd the soul of that eye

Through the long lashes round it.
A war-horse at the trumpet's sound,
A lion roused by heedless hound,
A tyrant waked to sudden strife
By graze of ill-directed knife,
Starts not to more convulsive life

Than he, who heard that vow, display'd,
And all, before repress'd, betray'd:
"Now thou art mine, for ever mine,

With life to keep, and scarce with life resign;
Now thou art mine, that sacred oath,
Though sworn by one, hath bound us both.
Yes, fondly, wisely hast thou done;

That row hath saved more heads than one:
But blench not thou-thy simplest tress
Claims more from me than tenderness;
I would not wrong the slenderest hair
That cluster round thy forehead fair,
For all the treasures buried far
Within the caves of Istakar, 19
This morning clouds upon me lower'd,
Reproaches on my head were shower'd,
And Giaffir alnost called me coward!
Now I have motive to be brave;
The son of his neglected slave,
Nay, start not 'twas the term he gave,
May show, though little apt to vaunt,
A heart his words nor deeds can daunt.
His son, indeed!-yet, thanks to thee,
Perchance I am, at least shall be;
But let our plighted secret vow
Be only known tens as now

I know the wretch who dares demana
From Giaffir thy reluctant hand;
More ill-got wealth, a meaner soul
Holds not a Musselims 20 control:
Was he not bred in Egripo? 21

A viler race let Israel show!

But let that pass-to none be told
Our oath; the rest shall time unfold.
To me and mine leave Osman Bey;
I've partisans for peril's day:
Think not I am what I appear;

I've arms, and friends, and vengeance near

XIII.

"Think not thou art what thou appearest,
My Selim, thou art sadly changed:
This morn I saw thee gentlest, dearest;
But now thou'rt from thyself estranged.
My love thou surely knew'st before,
It ne'er was less, nor can be more.
To see thee, hear thee, near thee stay,
And hate the night I know not why.
Save that we meet not but by day;

With thee to live, with thee to die,
I dare not to my hope deny :
Thy cheek, thine eyes, thy lips to kiss,
Like this-and this-no more than this;
For, Alla! sure thy lips are flame:

What fever in thy veins is flushing? My own have nearly caught the same,

At least I feel my cheek too blushing. To sooth thy sickness, watch thy health. Partake, but never waste thy wealth, Or stand with smiles unmurmuring by. And lighten half thy poverty; Do all but close thy dying eye, For that I could not live to try; To these alone my thoughts aspire' More can I do? or thou require ? But, Selim, thou must answer why We see so much of mystery?

The cause I cannot dream nor tell,

But be it, since thou say'st 'tis well;

Yet what thou mean'st by arms' and 'friends
Beyond my weaker sense extends.

I meant that Giaffir should have heard
The very vow I plighted thee;

His wrath would not revoke my word:
But surely he would leave me free.
Can this fond wish seem strange in me,
To be what I have ever been?
What other hath Zuleika seen
From simple childhood's earliest hour?
What other can she seek to see

Than thee, companion of her bower,
The partner of her infancy?
These cherish'd thoughts with life begur,
Say, why must I no more avow?
What change is wrought to make me shun

The truth; my pride, and thine till now?
To meet the gaze of stranger's eyes

Our law, our creed, our God denies ;
Nor shall one wandering thought of mine
At such, our Prophet's will repine:
No! happier made by that decree !
He left me all in leaving thee.
Deep were my anguish, thus compell'd
To wed with one I ne'er beheld:

This wherefore should I not reveal?
Why wilt thou urge me to conceal ?
I know the Pacha's haughty mood
To thee hath never boded good:
And he so often storms at nought,
Allah! forbid that e'er he ought!
And why, I know not, but within
My heart concealment weighs like sin.
If then such secrecy be crime,

And such it feels while lurking here; Oh, Selim! tell me yet in time,

Nor leave me thus to thoughts of fear. Ah! yonder see the Tchocadar," My father leaves the mimic war; I tremble now to meet his eyeSay, Selim, canst thou tell me why?"

XIV.

"Zuleika! to thy tower's retreat
Betake thee-Giaffir I can greet;
And now with him I fain must prate
Of firmans, imposts, levies, state.
There's fearful news from Danube's bank,
Our Vizier nobly thins his ranks,

For which the Giaour may give him thanks!
Our Sultan bath a shorter way
Such costly triumph to repay.

But, mark me, when the twilight drum

Hath warn'd the troops to food and sleep, Unto thy cell will Selim come;

Then softly from the Haram creep Where we may wander by the deep: Our garden-battlements are steep; Nor these will rash intruder climb To list our words, or stint our time; And if he doth, I want not steel Which some have felt, and more may feel. Then shalt thou learn of Selim more Than thou hast heard or thought before: Trust me, Zuleika-fear not me! Thou know'st I hold a Haram 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."

CANTO II.

I.

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 beguile
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 borne-
Minstrel 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 " still dashes

Be long my lot! and cold were he
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 raised, by monarchs crown'd. Is now a lone and nameless barrow ! Within-thy dwelling-place how na cow, 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!

V.

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,

Whereon engraved the Koorsee text,
Could smooth this life, and win the next;

And by her comboloio lies

A Koran of illumined dyes;

And many a bright emblazon'd rhyme
By Persian scribes redeem'd from time;
And o'er those scrolls, not oft so mute,
Reclines her now neglected lute;
And round her lamp of fretted gold
Bloom flowers in urns of China's mould;
The richest work of Iran's loom,
And Sheeraz' tribute of perfume;
All that can eye or sense delight

Are gather'd in that gorgeous room:
But yet it hath an air of gloom.
She, of this Peri cell the sprite,
What doth she hence, and on so rude a night?
VI.

Wrapt in the darkest sable vest,

Which none save noblest Moslem wear,
To guard from winds of heaven the breast
As heaven itself to Selim dear,
With cautious steps the thicket threading,
And starting oft, as through the glade
The gust its hollow moanings made,
Till on the smoother pathway treading,
More free her timid bosom beat,

The Laid pursued her silent guide;
And though her terror urged retreat,
How could she quit her Selim's side?
How teach her tender lips to chide?

VII.

They reach'd at length a grotto, hewn
By nature but enlarged by art,
Where oft her lute she wont to tune,
And oft her Koran conn'd apart;
And oft in youthful reverie
She dream'd what Paradise might be :
Where woman's parted soul shall go
Her prophet had disdained to show;
But Selim's mansion was secure,
Nor deem'd she, could he long endure
His bower in other worlds of bliss,
Without her, most beloved in this!
Oh! who so dear with him could dwell?
What Houri sonth him half so well?

VIII.

Since last she visited the spot

Some change seem'd wrought within the grot : It might be only that the night

Disguised things seen by better light:

That brazen lamp but dimly threw

A ray of no celestial hue;

But in a nook within the cell

Her eye on stranger objects fell.

There arms were piled, not such as wield
The turban'd Delis in the field;
But brands of foreign blade and hilt,
And one was red-perchance with guilt!
Ah! how without can blood be spilt?
A cup too on the board was set

That did not seem to hold sherbet.
What may this mean? she turn'd to see
Her Selim-"Oh! can this be he?

IX.

His robe of pride was thrown aside,

"

That dagger, on whose hilt the gem
Were worthy of a diadem,
No longer glitter'd at his waist,
Where pistols unadorn'd were braced;
And from his belt a sabre swung,
And from his shoulder loosely hung
The cloak of white, the thin capote
That decks the wandering Candiote.
Beneath-his golden-plated vest
Clung like a cuirass to his breast;
The greaves below his knee that wound
With silvery scales were sheathed and bound
But were it not that high command
Spake in his eye, and tone, and hand,
All that a careless eye could see
In him was some young Galiongée.

X.

28

"I said I was not what I seem'd:
And now thou seest my words were true
I have a tale thou hast not dream'd,
If sooth-its truth must others rue
My story now 'twere vain to hide;
I must not see thee Osman's bride;
But had not thine own lips declared
How much of that young heart I shared,
I could not, must not, yet have shown
The darker secret of my own.

In this I speak not now of love;
That, let time, truth, and peril prove.
But first-Oh! never wed another-
Zuleika! I am not thy brother!"

XI.

"Oh! not my brother!-yet unsay-
God! am I left alone on earth
To mourn-I dare not curse-the day
That saw my solitary birth?

Oh! thou wilt love me now no more!
My sinking heart foreboded ill;
But know me all I was before,

Thy sister-friend-Zuleika still.
Thou led'st me here perchance to kill;
If thou has cause for vengeance, see
My breast is offer'd-take thy fill!
Far better with the dead to be
Than live thus nothing now to thee:
Perhaps far worse, for now I know
Why Giaffir always seem'd thy foe;
And I alas! am Giaffir's child,

For whom thou wert contemn'd, reviled. If not thy sister-wouldst thou save My life, Oh! bid me be thy slave ""

XII.

"My slave, Zuleika !-nay, I'm thine;
But, gentle love, this transport calm:
Thy lot shall yet be link'd with mine;
I swear it by our Prophet's shrine,
And be that thought thy sorrow's balm.
So may the Koran 29 verse display'd
Upon its steel direct my blade,
In danger's hour to guard us both,
As I preserve that awful oath!

The name in which thy heart hath prided
Must change; but, my Zuleika, know,
That tie is widen'd, not divided,

Although thy Sire's my deadliest fre

My father was to Giaffir all

That Selim late was deem'd to thee;
That brother wrought a brother's fall,
But spared, at least, my infancy;
And lull'd me with a vain deceit
That yet a like return may meet.
He rear'd me, not with tender help,
But like the nephew of a Cain ;30
He watched me like a lion's whelp,
That gnaws and yet may break his chain.
My father's blood in every vein
Is boiling; but for thy dear sake
No present vengeance will I take:

Though here I must no more remain.
But first, belov'd Zuleika! hear
How Giaffir wrought this deed of fear.

XIII.

"How first their strife to rancor grew,
If love or envy made them foes,
It matters little if I knew:
In fiery spirits, lights, though few

And thoughtless, will disturb repose.
In war Abdallah's arm was strong,
Remember'd yet in Bosniac song,
And Paswan's 31 rebel hordes attest
How little love they bore such guest;
His death is all I need relate,
The stern effect of Giaffir's hate;
And how my birth disclosed to me,
Whate'er beside it makes, hath made me free.

XIV.

"When Paswan, after years of strife,
At last for power, but first for life,
In Widin's walls too proudly sate,
Our Pachas rallied round the state;
Nor last nor least in high command
Each brother led a separate band;
They gave their horsetails 32 to the wind,

And, mustering in Sophia's plain,
Their tents were pitch'd, their post assign'd:
To one, alas! assign'd in vain!
What need of words? the deadly bowl,

By Giaffir's order drugg'd and given, With venom subtle as his soul,

Dismiss'd Abdallah's hence to heaven. Reclined and feverish in the bath,

He, when the hunter's sport was up, But little deem'd a brother's wrath

To quench his thirst had such a cup: The bowl a bribed attendant bore; He drank one draught, nor needed more! If thou my tale, Zuleika, doubt, Call Haroun-he can tell it out.

XV.

"The deed once done, and Paswan's feud
In part suppress'd, though ne'er subdued,
Abdallah's Pachalick was gain'd:-
Thou know'st not what in our Divan
Can wealth procure for worse than man-
Abdallah's honors were obtain'd
By him a brother's murder stain'd;
'Tis true, the purchase nearly drain'd
His ill-got treasure, soon replaced.

Would'st question whence? Survey the waste
And ask the squalid peasant how

His gains repay his broiling brow!

Why me the stern usurper spared, Why thus with me his palace shared, I know not. Shame, regret, remorse And little fear from infant's force; Besides, adoption as a son

By him whom Heaven accorded none Or some unknown cabal, caprice, Preserved me thus; but not in peace He cannot curb his haughty mood, Nor I forgive a father's blood.

XVI.

"Within thy father's house are foes; Not all who break his bread are trie To these should I my birth disclose,

His days, his very hours were few: They only want a neart to lead, A hand to point them to the deed. But Haroun only knows, or knew This tale, whose close is almost nigh. He in Abdallah's palace grew,

And held that post in his Serai Which holds he here-he saw him die : But what could single slavery do? Avenge his lord? alas! too late; Or save his son from such a fate? He chose the last, and when elate

With foes subdued, or friends betray'd, Proud Giaffir in high triumph sate, He led me helpless to his gate,

And not in vain it seems essay'd To save the life for which he pray'd. The knowledge of my birth secured From all and each, but most from me; Thus Giaffir's safety was insured.

Removed he too from Roumelie

To this our Asiatic side,

Far from our seats by Danube's tide,
With none but Haroun, who retains
Such knowledge-and that Nubian feels
A tyrant's secrets are but chains,
From which the captive gladly steals.
And this and more to me reveals:
Such still to guilt just Alla sends-
Slaves, tools, accomplices-no friends!

XVII.

"All this, Zuleika, harshly sounds;
But harsher still my tale must be ·
Howe'er, my tongue thy softness wounds,
Yet I must prove all truth to thee.
I saw thee start this garb to see,

Yet is it one I oft have worn,

And long must wear: this Galiongée, To whom thy plighted vow is sworn,

Is leader of those pirate hordes,
Whose laws and lives are on their swords;
To hear whose desolating tale

Would make thy waning check more pale,
Those arms thou see'st my band have brought;
The hands that wield are not remote
This cup too for the rugged knaves

Is fill'd-once quaff'd, they ne'er repine;
Our Prophet might forgive the slaves;
They're only infidels in wine.

XVIII.

"What could I be? Proscribed at home, And taunted to a wish to roam;

Ana listless lett -for Giaffir's fear
Denied the courser and the spear-
Though oft-Oh, Mahomet! how oft!-
In full Divan the despot scoff'd,
As if my weak unwilling hand
Refused the bridle or the brand:
He ever went to war alone,

And pent me here untried, Enknown;
To Haroun's care with women left,
By hope unblest, of fame bereft,

While thou-whose softness long endear'd,
Though it unmann'd me, still had cheer'd-
To Brusa's walls for safety sent,
Awaited'st there the field's event.
Haroun, who saw my spirit pining

Beneath inaction's sluggish yoke,
His captive, though with dread resigning,
My thraldom for a season broke,
On promise to return before

The day when Giaffir's charge was o'er.
Tis vain-my tongue cannot impart
My almost drunkenness of heart,
When first this liberated eye
Survey'd Earth, Ocean, Sun, and Sky,
As if my spirit pierced them through,
And all their inmost wonders knew!
One word alone can paint to thee
That more than feeling-I was Free!
E'en for thy presence ceased to pine;
The World-nay-Heaven itself was mine!

"Tis true, they are a lawless brood, But rough in form, nor mild in mood; And every creed, and every race, With them hath found-may find a place But open speech, and ready hand, Obedience to their chief's command; A soul for every enterprise, That never sees with terror's eyes; Friendship for each, and faith to all, And vengeance vow'd for those who fall, Have made them fitting instruments For more than even my own intents. And some-and I have studied all Distinguish'd from the vuigar rank, But chiefly to my counsel call

The wisdom of the cautious FrankAnd some to higher thoughts aspire, The last of Lambro's 35 patriot's there Anticipated freedom share;

And oft around the cavern fire
On visionary schemes debate,

To snatch the Rayahs 36 from their fate.
So let them ease their hearts with prate
Of equal rights, which man ne'er knew:
I have a love for freedom too.

roam.

Ah! let me like the ocean patriarch
Or only know on land the Tartar's home! 38
My tent on shore, my galley on the sea,
Are more than cities and serais to me:
Borne by my steed, or wafted by my sail,
Across the desert, or before the gale.
Bound where thou wilt, my barb! or glide, my pro
But be the star that guides the wanderer, Thou!
Thou, my Zuleika, share and bless my bark;
The dove of peace and promise to mine ark!
Or, since that hope denied in worlds of strife,
Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life!
The evening beam that smiles the clouds away,
And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray!
Blest-as the Muezzin's strain from Mecca's wall
To pilgrim's pure and prostrate at his call:
Soft-as the melody of youthful days,

That steals the trembling tear of speechless praise;
Dear-as his native song to exile's ears,

Shall sound each tone thy long-loved voice endears For thee in those bright isles is built a bower Blooming as Aden 39 in its earliest hour.

A thousand swords, with Selim's heart and hand
Wait-wave-defend-destroy-at thy command.
Girt by my band, Zuleika at my side,

The spoil of nations shall bedeck my bride.
The Haram's languid years of listless ease
Are well resign'd for cares-for joys like these:
Not blind to fate, I see, where'er I rove,
Unnumber'd perils-but one only love!
Yet well my toils shall that fond breast repay,
Though fortune frowns, or falser friends betray.
How dear the dream in darkest hours of ill,
Should all be changed, to find thee faithful stil
Be but thy soul like Selim's, firmly shown
To thee be Selim's tender as thine own;
To sooth each sorrow, share in each delight,
Blend every thought, do all-but disunite!
Once free, 'tis mine our horde again to guide;
Friends to each other, foes to aught beside:
Yet, there we follow but the bent assign'd
By fatal nature to man's warring kind:
Mark! where his carnage and his conquests cease
He makes a solitude, and calls it-peace!
I, like the rest, must use my skill or strength,
But ask no land beyond my sabre's length
Power sways but by division-her resource
The blest alternative of fraud or force;
Ours be the last; in time deceit may come,
Wher cities cage us in a social home:
There even thy soul might err-how oft the heart
Corruption shakes which peril could not part!
And woman, more than man, when death or wo,
Or even disgrace would lay her lover low,
Sunk in the lap of luxury will shame-
Away suspicion! not Zuleika's name:
But life is hazard at the best; and here
No more remains to win, and much to fear;
Yes, fear!-the doubt, the dread of losing thee,
By Osman's power and Giafh stern decree.
That dread shall vanish with the favoring gale,
Which love to-night hath promised to my sail :
No danger daunts the pair his smile hath blest,
Their steps still roving, but their hearts at rest.
With thee all toils are sweet, each clime hath charme
Earth-sea alike-our world within our arms!
Ay-let the loud winds whistle o'er the deck,
So that those arms cling closer round my neck,
The deepest murmur of this lip shall be