This fearful interval of doubt and dread,
When every hour might doom him worse than dead,
When every step that echo'd by the gate
Might entering lead where axe and stake await;
When voice that grated on his ear
Might be the last that he could ever hear;
Could terror tame-that spirit stern and high
Had proved unwilling as unfit to die;

every

"T was worn-perhaps decay'd-yet silent bore
That conflict deadlier far than all before:
The heat of fight, the hurry of the gale,

Leave scarce one thought inert enough to quail;
But bound and fix'd in fetter'd solitude,
To pine, the prey of every changing mood;
To gaze on thine own heart; and meditate
Irrevocable faults, and coming fate-

Too late the last to shun-the first to mend-
To count the hours that struggle to thine end,
With not a friend to animate, and tell
To other ears that death became thee well:
Around thee foes to forge the ready lie,
And blot life's latest scene with calumny;
Before the tortures, which the soul can dare,
Yet doubts how well the skrinking flesh may bear;
But deeply feels a single cry would shame,
To valour's praise thy last and dearest claim;
The life thou leav'st below, denied above
By kind monopolists of heavenly love;
And more than doubtful paradise-thy heaven
Of earthly hope-thy loved one from thee riven.
Such were the thoughts that outlaw must sustain,
And govern pangs surpassing mortal pain:
And those sustain'd he-boots it well or ill?
Since not to sink beneath, is something still!

VII.

The first day pass'd-he saw not her-Gulnare-
The second-third-and still she came not there;
But what her words avouch'd, her charms had done,
Or else he had not seen another sun.

The fourth day roll'd along, and with the night
Came storm and darkness in their mingling might:
Oh! how he listen'd to the rushing deep,
That ne'er till now so broke upon his sleep;
And his wild spirit wilder wishes sent,
Roused by the roar of his own element!
Oft had he ridden on that winged wave,
And loved its roughness for the speed it gave;
And now its dashing echo'd on his ear,

A long known voice-alas! too vainly near!
Loud the wind above; and, doubly loud,
sung
Shook o'er his turret cell the thunder-cloud;
And flash'd the lightning by the latticed bar,
To him more genial than the midnight star:
Close to the glimmering grate he dragg'd his chain,
And hope that peril might not prove in vain.
He raised his iron hand to Heaven, and pray'd
One pitying flash to mar the form it made:
His steel and impious prayer attract alike—
The storm roll'd onward, and disdain'd to strike;
Its peal wax'd fainter-ceased-he felt alone,
As if some faithless friend had spurn'd his groan!

VIII.

The midnight pass'd-and to the massy door
A light step came-it paused-it moved once more;
Slow turns the grating boit and sullen key:
'Tis as his heart foreboded-that fair she!
Whate'er her sins. to him a guardian saint,
And beauteous still as hermit's hope can paint;
Yet changed since last within that cell she came,
More pale her cheek, more tremulous her frame:
On him she cast her dark and hurried eye,
Which spoke before her accents-"ou must die.
Yes, thou must die--there is but one resource,
The last--the worst-if torture were not worse."

"Lady! I look to none-my lips proclaim
What last proclaim'd they-Conrad still the same:
Why should'st thou seek an outlaw's life to spare,
And change the sentence I deserve to bear?
Well have I earn'd-nor here alone-the meed
Of Seyd's revenge, by many a lawless deed."

"Why should I seek? because-Oh! didst thou not
Redeem my life from worse than slavery's lot?
Why should I seek?-hath misery made thee blind
To the fond workings of a woman's mind!
And must I say? albeit my heart rebel

With all that woman feels, but should not tell-
Because-despite thy crimes-that heart is moved:
It fear'd thee-thank'd thee-pitied-madden'd-loved
Reply not, tell not now thy tale again,

Thou lov'st another-and I love in vain;
Though fond as mine her bosom, form more fair,
I rush through peril which she would not dare.
If that thy heart to hers were truly dear,
Were I thine own-thou wert not lonely here:
An outlaw's spouse-and leave her lord to roam!
What hath such gentle dame to do with home?
But speak not now-o'er thine and o'er my head
Hangs the keen sabre by a single thread;
If thou hast courage still, and would'st be free,
Receive this poniard-rise-and follow me!"

«Ay-in my chains! my steps will gentry tread,
With these adornments, o'er each slumbering head!
Thou hast forgot-is this a garb for flight?
Or is that instrument more fit for fight?”

Misdoubting Corsair! I have gain'd the guard,
Ripe for revolt, and greedy for reward.
A single word of mine removes that chain:
Without some aid how here could I remain?
Well, since we met, hath sped my busy time,
If in aught evil, for thy sake the crime:
The crime-t is none to punish those of Seyd.
That hated tyrant, Conrad-he must bleed!
I see thee shudder-but my soul is changed-
Wrong'd, spurn'd, reviled-and it shall be avenged-
Accused of what till now my heart disdain'd-
Too faithful, though to bitter bondage chain'd.
Yes, smile!-but he had little cause to sneer,
I was not treacherous then-nor thou too dear:
But he has said it—and the jealous well,
Those tyrants, teasing, tempting to rebel,
Deserve the fate their fretting lips foretell.

I never loved-he bought me somewhat high-
Since with me came a heart he could not buy.
I was a slave unmurmuring: he hath said,
But for his rescue I with thee had fled.

"T was false thou know'st-but let such augurs rue,
Their words are omens Insult renders true.
Nor was thy respite granted to my prayer;
This fleeting grace was only to prepare
New torments for thy life, and my despair.
Mine too he threatens ; but his dotage still
Would fain reserve me for his lordly will:
When wearier of these fleeting charms and me,
There yawns the sack-and yonder rolls the sea!
What, am I then a toy for dotard's play,

To wear but till the gilding frets away?

I saw thee-loved thee-owe thee all-would save,

If but to show how grateful is a slave.

But had he not thus menaced fame and life,
(And well he keeps his oaths pronounced in strife)

I still had saved thee-but the Pacha spared.
Now I am all thine own-for all prepared:
Thou lov'st me not-nor know'st--or but the worst.
Alas! this love-that hatred are the first-
Oh! could'st thou prove my truth, thou would'st not start
Nor fear the fire that lights an Eastern heart,

Tis now the beacon of thy safety-now
It points within the port a Mainote prow:
But in one chamber, where our path must lead,
There sleeps he must not wake-the oppressor Seyd!"

'Gulnare-Gulnare-I never felt till now
My abject fortune, wither'd fame so low
Seyd is mine enemy: had swept my band
From earth with ruthless but with open hand,
And therefore came I, in my bark of wat
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.
Thine saved I gladly, Lady, not for this-
Let me not deem that mercy shown amiss.
Now fare thee well-more peace be with thy breast!
Night wears apace-my last of earthly rest!"

"Rest! rest! by sunrise must thy sinews shake,
And thy limbs writhe around the ready stake.
I heard the order-saw-I will not see-
If thou wilt perish, I will fall with thee.
My life my love-my hatred-all below
Are on this cast-Corsair! 't is but a blow!
Without it flight were idle-how evade
His sure pursuit? my wrongs too unrepaid,
My youth disgraced-the long, long wasted years,
One blow shall cancel with our future fears;
But since the dagger suits thee less than brand,
I'll try the firmness of a female hand,
The guards are gain'd-one moment all were o'er-
Corsair! we meet in safety or no more;
If errs my feeble hand, the morning cloud
Will hover o'er thy scaffold, and my shroud."

IX.

She turn'd, and vanish'd ere he could reply,
But his glance follow'd far with eager eye;
And gathering, as he could, the links that bound
His form, to curl their length, and curb their sound,
Since bar and bolt no more his steps preclude,
He, fast as fetter'd limbs allow, pursued.

'T was dark and winding, and he knew not where
That passage led; nor lamp nor guard were there:
He sees a dusky glimmering-shall he seek
Or shun that ray so indistinct and weak?
Chance guides his steps-a freshness seems to bear
Full on his brow, as if from morning air-
He reach'd an open gallery-on his eye
Gleam'd the last star of night, the clearing sky:
Yet scarcely heeded these-another light
From a lone chamber struck upon his sight.
Towards it he moved; a scarcely closing door
Reveal'd the ray within, but nothing more.
With hasty step a.figure outward past,
Then paused and turn'd-and paused-'t is She at last!
No poniard in that hand-nor sign of ill-
"Thanks to that softening heart-she could not kill!"
Again he look'd, the wildness of her eye
Starts from the day abrupt and fearfully.
She stopp'd-threw back her dark far-floating hair,
That nearly veil'd her face and bosom fair:
As if she late had bent her leaning head
Above some object of her doubt or dread.
They meet-upon her brow-unknown-forgot-
Her hurrying hand had left-'t was but a spot-
Its hue was all he saw, and scarce withstood-
Oh! slight but certain pledge of crime-'t is blood!

X.

He had seen battle-he had brooded lone
O'er promised pangs to sentenced guilt foreshown;
He had been tempted-chastened and the chain
Yet on his arms might ever there remain:

But ne'er from strife-captivity-remorse—
From all his feelings in their inmost force-
So thrill'd-so shudder'd every creeping vein,
As now they froze before that purple stain.
That spot of blood, that light but guilty streak,
Had banish'd all the beauty from her cheek!
Blood he had view'd-could view unmoved-but then
It flow'd in combat, or was shed by men.

XI.

"T is done-he nearly waked-but it is done. Corsair! he perish'd-thou art dearly won. All words would now be vain-away-away! Our bark is tossing-'tis already day. The few gain'd over, now are wholly mine, And these thy yet surviving band shall join: Anon my voice shall vindicate my hand, When once our sail forsakes this hated strand."

XII.

She clapp'd her hands-and through the gallery pour
Equipp'd for flight, her vassals-Greek and Moor;
Silent but quick they stoop, his chains unbind;
Once more his limbs are free as mountain wind
But on his heavy heart such sadness sate,
As if they there transferr'd that iron weight.
No words are utter'd-at her sign, a door
Reveals the secret passage to the shore;
The city lies behind-they speed, they reach
The glad waves dancing on the yellow beach;
And Conrad following, at her beck, obeyed
Nor cared he now if rescued or betray'd:
Resistance were as useless as if Seyd
Yet lived to view the doom his ire decreed.

XIII.

Embark'd the sail unfurl'd, the light breeze blew-
How much had Conrad's memory to review!
Sunk he in Contemplation, till the cape
Where last he anchor'd rear'd its giant shape.
Ah! since that fatal night, though brief the time.
Had swept an age of terror, grief, and crime.
As its far shadow frown'd above the mast,
He veil'd his face, and sorrow'd as he past;
He thought of all-Gonsalvo and his band,
His fleeting triumph and his failing hand;
He thought on her afar, his lonely bride:
He turn'd and saw-Gulnare, the homicide!

XIV.

She watch'd his features till she could not bear
Their freezing aspect and averted air,
And that strange fierceness foreign to her eye,
Fell quench'd in tears, too late to shed or dry
She knelt beside him and his hand she prest,
"Thou may'st forgive though Alla's self detest;
But for that deed of darkness what wert thou?
Reproach me-but not yet-Oh! spare me now!
I am not what I seem-this fearful night
My brain bewilder'd-do not madden quite!
If I had never loved-though less my guilt,
Thou hadst not lived to-hate me-if thou wilt."

XV.

She wrongs his thoughts, they more himself upbraid
Than her, though undesign'd, the wretch he made;
But speechless all, deep, dark, and unexprest,
They bleed within that silent cell—his breast.
Still onward, fair the breeze, nor rough the surge,
The blue waves sport around the stern they urge;
Far on the horizon's verge appears a speck,
A spot-a mast-a sail-an armed deck!
Their little bark her men of watch descry,
And ampler canvass woos the wind from high
She bears her down majestically near,
Speed on her prow, and terror in her tier