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Full text of "The Giaour, a fragment of a Turkish tale"

.. :. "-- 







THE GIAOUR. 








THE GIAOUR, 



A FRAGMENT OF 



A TURKISH TALE. 



BY LORD BYRON. 



" One fatal remembrance one sorrow that throws 
" It's bleak shade alike o'er our joys and our woes 
" To which Life nothing darker nor brighter can bring, 
" For which joy hath no balm and affliction no sting." 



Muonr. 



THE ELEVENTH EDITION. 



LONDON: 

l*rintcd by Thomas Daviaon, Whitefriars> 
FOR JOHN MURRAY, A LB EM A RLE-STREET, 

1814. 








FHB 1 
, 

VSITY 0; 







PR 

MSfet. 
Al 



TO 



I 






SAMUEL ROGERS, ESQ. 

AS A SLIGHT BUT MOST SINCERE TOKEN 

OF ADMIRATION OF HIS GENIUS; 

RESPECT FOR HIS CHARACTER, 

AND GRATITUDE FOR HIS FRIENDSHIP; 

THIS PRODUCTION IS INSCRIBED BY 
HIS OBLIGED AND AFFECTIONATE SERVANT, 



BYRON 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



THE tale which these disjointed fragments present, is 
founded upon circumstances now less common in the 
East than formerly; either because the ladies are more 
circumspect than in the " olden time;" or because the 
Christians have better fortune, or less enterprize. The 
story, when entire, contained the adventures of a female 
slave, who was thrown, in the Mussulman manner, into 
the sea for infidelity, and avenged by a young Venetian, 
her lover, at the time the Seven Islands were possessed 
by the Republic of Venice, and soon after the Arnauts 
were beaten back from the Morea, which they had ra- 
vaged for some time subsequent to the Russian invasion. 
The desertion of the Mainotes, on being refused the 
plunder of Misitra, led to the abandonment of that en- 
terprize, and to the desolation of the Morea, during 
which the cruelty exercised on all sides was unparalleled 
even in the annals of the faithful. 



THE GIAOUR, 

A FRAGMENT OF A TURKISH TALE, 



N o breath of air to break the wave 
That rolls below the Athenian's grave, 
That tomb l which, gleaming o'er the cliff, 
First greets the homeward-veering skiff, 
High o'er the land he saved in vain 
When shall such hero live again ? 



Fair clime ! where every season smiles 
Benignant o'er those blessed isles, 
Which seen from far Colonna's height, 
Make glad the heart that hails the sight, 10 

And lend to loneliness delight. 
There mildly dimpling Ocean's cheek 
Reflects the tints of many a peak 
Caught by the laughing tides that lave 
These Edens of the eastern wave ; 1 5 



THE GIAOUR. 

And if at times a transient breeze 

Break the blue chrystal of the seas, 

Or sweep one blossom from the trees, 

How welcome is each gentle air, 

That wakes and wafts the odours there ! 20 

For there the Rose o'er crag or vale, 

Sultana of the Nightingale, 2 

The maid for whom his melody 

His thousand songs are heard on high, 
Blooms blushing to her lover's tale ; 25 

His queen, the garden queen, his Rose, 
Unbent by winds, unchill'd by snows, 
Far from the winters of the west 
By every breeze and season blest, 

Returns the sweets by nature given 30 

In softest incense back to heaven ; 
And grateful yields that smiling sky 
Her fairest hue and fragrant sigh . 
And many a summer flower is there, 
And many a shade that love might share,, 35 

And many a grotto, meant for rest, 
That holds the pirate for a guest ; 



THE GIAOUR. ^ 

Whose bark in sheltering cove below 

Lurks for the passing peaceful prow, 

Till the gay mariner's guitar 3 40 

Is heard, and seen the evening star ; 

Then stealing with the muffled oar, 

Far shaded by the rocky shore, 

Rush the night-prowlers on the prey, 

And turn to groans his roundelay. 45 

Strange that where Nature lov'd to trace, 

As if for Gods, a dwelling-place, 

And every charm and grace hath mixed 

Within the paradise she fixed 

There man, enamour'd of distress, 50 

Should mar it into wilderness, 

And trample, brute-like, o'er each flower 

That tasks not one laborious hour ; 

Nor claims the culture of his hand 

To bloom along the fairy land, 55 

But springs as to preclude his care, 

And sweetly woos him but to spare ! 

Strange that where all is peace beside 

There passion riots in her pride, 



THE GIAOUR. 

And lust and rapine wildly reign, 60 

To darken o'er the fair domain. 

It is as though the fiends prevail'd 

Against the seraphs they assail'd, 

And fixed, on heavenly thrones, should dwell 

The freed inheritors of hell 65 

So soft the scene, so form'd for joy, 

So curst the tyrants that destroy ! 

He who hath bent him o'er the dead, 

Ere the first day of death is fled ; 

The first dark day of nothingness, 70 

The last of danger and distress ; 

(Before Decay's effacing fingers 

Have swept the lines where beauty lingers,) 

And mark'd the mild angelic air 

The rapture of repose that's there 75 

The fixed yet tender traits that streak 

The languor of the placid cheek, 

And but for that sad shrouded eye, 

That fires not wins not weeps not now 
And but for that chill changeless brow, 80 

Where cold Obstruction's apathy 4 



THE GIAOUR. 

Appals the gazing mourner's heart, 

As if to him it could impart 

The doom he dreads, yet dwells upon 

Yes but for these and these alone, 85 

Some moments aye one treacherous hour, 

He still might doubt the tyrant's power, 

So fair so calm so softly seal'd 

The first last look by death reveal'd! 5 

Such is the aspect of this shore ' 9O 

Tis Greece but living Greece no more! 

So coldly sweet, so deadly fair, 

We start for soul is wanting there. 

Hers is the loveliness in death, 

That parts not quite with parting breath ; 9-5 

But beauty with that fearful bloom, 

That hue which haunts it to the tomb 

Expression's last receding ray, 

A gilded halo hovering round decay, 

The farewell beam of Feeling past away! 100 

Spark of that flame perchance of heavenly birth 
Which gleams but warms no more its cherish'd earth ! 



THE GIAOUR. 

Clime of the unforgotten brave ! 
Whose land from plain to mountain-cave 
Was Freedom's home or Glory's grave 10.5 

Shrine of the mighty ! can it be, 
That this is all remains of thee ? 
Approach thou craven crouching slave- 
Say, is not this Thermopylae ? 

These waters blue that round you lave 110 

Oh servile offspring of the free 
Pronounce what sea, what shore is this? 
The gulf, the rock of Salamis ! 
These scenes their story not unknown 
Arise, and make again your own ; 115 

Snatch from the ashes of your sires 
The embers of their former fires, 
And he who in the strife expires 
Will add to theirs a name of fear, 

That Tyranny shall quake to hear, 120 

And leave his sons a hope, a fame, 
They too will rather die than shame ; 
For Freedom's battle once begun, 
Bequeathed by bleeding Sire to Son, 
Though baffled oft is ever won. 12,5 






'HIE C1IAOI 7 

Bear witness, Greece, thy living page, 

Attest it many a deathless age! 

While kingg in dusty darkness hid; 

Have left a nameless pyramid, 

Thy heroes though the general doom 1 30 

Hath swept the column from their tomb, 

A mightier monument command, 

The mountains of their native land ! 

There points thy Muse to stranger's eye, 

The graves of those that cannot die ! 1 35 

'Twere long to tell, and sad to trace, 

Each step from splendour to disgrace, 

Enough no foreign foe could quell 

Thy soul, till from itself it fell, 

Yes! Self-abasement pav'd the way 140 

To vilain-bonds and despot-sway. 

What can he tell who treads thy shore? 

No legend of thine olden time, 
No theme on which the muse might soar, 
High as thine own in days of yore, 14,> 

When man was worthy of thy clime. 



THE GIAOUR. 

The hearts within thy valleys bred, 
The fiery souls that might have led 

Thy sons to deeds sublime ; 

Now crawl from cradle to the grave, 150 

Slaves nay the bondsmen of a slave, 6 

And callous, save to crime ; 
Stain'd with each evil that pollutes 
Mankind, where least above the brutes ; 
Without even savage virtue blest, 155 

Without one free or valiant breast. 
Still to the neighbouring ports they waft 
Proverbial wiles, and ancient craft, 
In this the subtle Greek is found, 

For this, and this alone, renown'd. 1 60 

In vain might Liberty invoke 
The spirit to its bondage broke, 
Or raise the neck that courts the yoke : 
No more her sorrows I bewail, 

Yet this will be a mournful tale, JCJ5 

And they who listen may believe, 
Who heard it first had cause to grieve. 



THE GIAOUR. 9 

Far, dark, along the blue sea glancing, 
The shadows of the rocks advancing, 
Start on the fisher's eye like boat 1 70 

Of island-pirate or Mainote ; 
And fearful for his light caique 
He shuns the near but doubtful creek, 
Though worn and weary with his toil, 
And cumber'd with his scaly spoil, 175 

Slowly, yet strongly, plies the oar, 
Till Port Leone's safer shore 
Receives him by the lovely light 
That best becomes an Eastern night. 



Who thundering comes on blackest steed ? 180 

With slackened bit and hoof of speed, 
Beneath the clattering iron's sound 
The cavern'd echoes wake around 
In lash for lash, and bound for bound ; 
The foam that streaks the courser's side, 185 

Seems gather'd from the ocean-tide: 
Though weary waves are sunk to rest, 
There's none within his rider's breast, 






10 THE GIAOUR. 

And though to-morrow's tempest lower, 

Tis calmer than thy heart, young Giaour! 7 190 

I know thee not, I loathe thy race, 

But in thy lineaments I trace 

What time shall strengthen, not efface ; 

Though young and pale, that sallow front 

Is scath'd by fiery passion's brunt, 19.5 

Though bent on earth thine evil eye 

As meteor like thou glidest by, 

Right well I view, and deem thee one 

Whom Othman's sons should slay or shun. 

On on he hastened and he drew 200 

My gaze of wonder as he flew : 
Though like a demon of the night 
He passed and vanished from my sight ; 
His aspect and his air impressed 

A troubled memory on my breast ; 205 

And long upon my startled ear 
Rung his dark courser's hoofs of fear. 
He spurs his steed he nears the steep, 
That jutting shadows o'er the deep 



THE CJI \OITR. 1 I 

He winds around he hurries by 2 1 

The rock relieves him from mine eye 

For well I ween unwelcome he 

Whose glance is fixed on those that flee ; 

And not a star but shines too bright 

On him who takes such timeless flight. '1 1 5 

He wound along but ere he passed 

One glance he snatched as if his last 

A moment checked his wheeling steed 

A moment breathed him from his speed 

A moment on his stirrup stood 220 

Why looks he o'er the olive wood ? 

The crescent glimmers on the hill, 

The Mosque's high lamps are quivering 

Though too remote for sound to wake 

In echoes of the far tophaike, 8 225 

The flashes of each joyous peal 

Are seen to prove the Moslem's zeal. 

To-night set Rhamazani's sun 

To-night the Bairam feast's begun 

To-night but who and what art thou 230 

Of foreign garb and fearful brow ? 





ing still ; 

O 



THE GIAOUR. 

And what are these to thine or thee, 
That thou should'st either pause or flee ? 
He stood some dread was on his face 
Soon Hatred settled in its place 235 

It rose not with the reddening flush 
Of transient Angers darkening blush, 
But pale as marble o'er the tomb, 
Whose ghastly whiteness aids its gloom. 
His brow was bent his eye was glazed 240 

He raised his arm, and fiercely raised ; 
And sternly shook his hand on high, 
As doubting to return or fly ; 
Impatient of his flight delayed 

Here loud his raven charger neighed 245 

Down glanced that hand, and grasped his blade- 
That sound had burst his waking dream, 
As Slumber starts at owlet's scream. 
The spur hath lanced his courser's sides 
Away-r-away for life he rides 250 

Swift as the hurled on high jerreed, 9 
Springs to the touch his startled steed, 



THE (ilAOUH. 



13 




The rock is doubled and the shore 

Shakes with the clattering tramp no more 

The crag is won no more is seen - ".' 

His Christian crest and haughty mien. 

'Twas but an instant* he, restrained 

That fiery barb so sternly reined 

'Twas but a moment that he stood, 

Then sped as if by death pursued ; 260 

But in that instant, o'er his soul 

Winters of Memory seemed to roll ; 

And gather in that drop of time 

A life of pain, an age of crime. 

O'er him who loves, or hates, or fears, 26$ 

Such moment pours the grief of years- 
What felt he then at once opprest 

By all that most distracts the breast ? 

That pause which pondered o'er his fate, 

Oh, who its dreary length shall date ! 270 

Though in Time's record nearly nought, 

It was Eternity to Thought ! 
\ For infinite as boundless space 
j The thought that Conscience must embrace, 



[4 THE GIAOUR. 

Which in itself can comprehend 275 

Woe without name or hope or end. 

The hour is past, the Giaour is gone, 
And did he fly or fall, alone ? 
Woe to that hour he came or went, 
The curse for Hassan's sin was sent 28() 

To turn a palace to a tomb ; 
He came, he went, like the Simoom, 10 
That harbinger of fate and gloom, 
Beneath whose widely-wasting breath 
The very cypress droops to death 285 

Dark tree still sad, when others' grief is fled, 
The only constant mourner o'er the dead ! 

The steed is vanished from the stall, 
No serf is seen in Hassan's hall 

The lonely Spider's thin grey pall 29{> 

Waves slowly widening o'er the wall ; 
The Bat builds in his Haram bower; 
And in the fortress of his power 
The Owl usurps the beacon-tower ; 






THE GIAOUR. 15 

The wild-dog howls o'er the fountain's brim, 295 

With baffled thirst, and famine, grim, 

For the stream has shrunk from its marble bed, 

\\ IK re the weeds and the desolate dust are spread. 

'Twas sweet of yore to see it play 

And chase the sultriness of day 300 

As springing high the silver dew 

In whirls fantastically flew, 

And flung luxurious coolness round 

The air, and verdure o'er the ground. 

'Twas sweet, when cloudless stars were bright, 30a 

To view the wave of watery light, 

And hear its melody by night. 

And oft had Hassan's Childhood played 

Around the verge of that cascade ; 

And oft upon his mother's breast 3 1 

That sound had harmonized his rest ; 

And oft had Hassan's Youth along 

Its bank been sooth'd by Beauty's song ; 

And softer seemed each melting tone 

Of Music mingled with its own. 315 

But ne'er shall Hassan's Age repose 

Along the brink at Twilight's close* 



16 THE GIAOUli. 

The stream that filled that font is fled 

The blood that warmed his heart is shed ! 

And here no more shall human voice 320 

Be heard to rage regret rejoice 

The last sad note that swelled the gale 

Was woman's wildest funeral wail 

That quenched in silence all is still, 

But the lattice that flaps when the wind is shrill 325 

Though raves the gust, and floods the rain, 

No hand shall close its clasp again. 

On desart sands 'twere joy to scan 

The rudest steps of fellow man, 

So here the very voice of Grief 330 

Might wake an Echo like relief 

At least 'twould say, " all are not gone ; 

" There lingers Life, though but in one 

For many a gijded chamber's there, 

Which Solitude might well forbear ; 

Within that dome as yet Decay 

Hath slowly worked her cankering way 

But Gloom is gathered o'er the gate, 

Nor there the Fakir's self will wait; 



THE GIAOUR. 17 

Nor there will wandering Dervise stay, 3 10 

For Bounty cheers not his delay ; 

Nor there will weary stranger halt 

To bless the sacred " bread and salt." 11 

Alike must Wealth and Poverty 

Pass heedless and unheeded by, 345 

For Courtesy and Pity died 

With Hassan on the mountain side. 

His roof that refuge unto men 

Is Desolation's hungry den. .j^jt c 

fJAigljLA. tJU 

The guest flies the hall, and the vassal from labour, 3 SO '^jj^+j^ 
Since his turban was cleft by the infidel's sabre ! " 

~ 



I hear the sound of coming feet, 
But not a voice mine ear to greet 
More near each turban I can scan, 
And silver-sheathed ataghan ; * dloflf^ 3;55 

The foremost of the band is seen 
An Emir by his garb of green : u 
" Ho ! who art thou? this low salam Is 
" Replies of Moslem faith I am. 



THE GIAOUR. 

" The burthen ye so gently bear, 360 

" Seems one that claims your utmost care, 
" And, doubtless, holds some precious freight, 
" My humble bark would gladly wait." 

" Thou speakest sooth, thy skiff unmoor, 
" And waft us from the silent shore ; 36.5 

" Nay, leave the sail still fuii'd, and ply 
" The nearest oar that's scattered by, 
" And midway to those rocks*where sleep 
" The channel'd waters dark and deep. 
" Rest from your task so bravely done, 370 

" Our course has been right swiftly run, 
" Yet 'tis the longest voyage, I trow, 
"That one of * * * * 



Sullen it plunged, and slowly sank, 
The calm wave rippled to the bank ; 375 

I watch'd it as it sank, methought 
Some motion from the current caught 



THE GIVOUR. 19 

Bestirr'd it more, 'twas but the beam 

That chequer'd o'er the living stream 

I gaz'd, till vanishing from view, 380 

Like lessening pebble it withdrew ; 

Still less and less, a speck of white 

That gemm'd the tide, then mock'd the sight ; 

And all its hidden secrets sleep. 

A J 

Known but to Genii of the deep, 385 

Which, trembling in their coral caves, 
They dare not whisper to the waves. 

******** 

As rising on its purple wing 
The insect-queen l6 of eastern sprbig, 
O'er emerald meadows of Kashmeer 390 

Invites the young pursuer near, 
And leads him on fr,om flower to flower 
A weary chase and wasted hour, 
Then leaves him, as it soars on high, 
With panting heart and tearful eye : 395 

So Beauty lures the full-grown child 
With hue as bright, and wing as wild; 

c 2 



20 THE GIAOUR. 



A chase of idle hopes and fears, 

Begun in folly, closed in tears. 

If won, to equal ills betrayed, 400 

Woe waits the insect and the maid, 

A life of pain, the loss of peace, 

From infant's play, or man's caprice : 

The lovely toy so fiercely sought 

Has lost its charm by being caught, 405 

For every touch that wooed it's stay 

Has brush'd the brightest hues away 

Till charm, and hue, and beauty gone, 

Tis left to fly or fall alone. 

With wounded wing, or bleeding breast, 4 10 

Ah ! where shall either victim rest ? 

Can this with faded pinion soar 

From rose to tulip as before ? 

Or Beauty, blighted in an hour, 

Find joy within her broken bower ? 415 

No : gayer insects fluttering by 

Ne'er droop the wing o'er those that die, 

And lovelier things liave mercy shewn 

To every failing but their own, 



THE GIAOUR. 21 

And every woe a tear can claim 420 

Except an erring sister's shame. K 
*****# 

The Mind, that broods o'er guilty woes, 

Is like the Scorpion girt by fire, 
In circle narrowing as it glows 

The flames around their captive close, 425 

Till inly searched by thousand throes, 

And maddening in her ire, 
One sad and sole relief she knows, 
The sting she nourished for her foes, 
Whose venom never yet was vain, 430 

Gives but one pang, and cures all pain, 
And darts into her desperate brain. 
So do the dark in soul expire, 
Or live like Scorpion girt by fire ; 17 
So writhes the mind Remorse hath riven, 435 

Unfit for earth, undoom'd for heaven, 
Darkness above, despair beneath, 

Around it flame, within it death ! 

******** 



22 THE GIAOUR. 

Black Hassan from the Haram flies, 
Nor bends on woman's form his eyes, 440 

The unwonted chase each hour employs, 
Yet shares he not the hunter's joys. 
Not thus was Hassan wont to fly 
When Leila dwelt in his Serai. 

Doth Leila there no longer dwell ? 445 

That tale can only Hassan tell : 
Strange rumours in our city say 
Upon that eve she fled away ; 
When Rhamazan's l8 last sun was set, 
And flashing from each minaret 450 

Millions of lamps proclaim'd the feast 
Of Bairam through the boundless East. 
Twas then she went as to the bath, 
Which Hassan vainly searched in wrath, 
But she was flown Her. master's rage 455 

In likeness of a Georgian page ; 
And far beyond the Moslem's power 
Had wrong'd him with the faithless Giaour. 
Somewhat of this had Hassan deem'd, 
But still so fond, so fair she seem'd, 460 



THE GIAOUR. 

Too well he trusted to the slave 

\Yhose treachery deserv'd a grave: 

And on that eve had gone to mosque, 

And thence to feast in his kiosk. 

Such is the tale his Nubians tell, 4-65 

Who did not watch their charge too well ; 

But others say, that on that night, 

By pale Phingari's I9 trembling light, 

The Giaour upon his jet black steed 

Was seen but seen alone to speed 470 

With bloody spur along the shore, 

Nor maid nor page behind him bore. 



Her eye's dark charm 'twere vain to tell, 
But gaze on that of the Gazelle, 

It will assist thy fancy well> " 47.5 

As large, as languishingly dark, 
But Soul beam'd forth in every spark 
That darted from beneath the lid, 
Bright as the jewel of Giamschid 2 *. 



24 THE GIAOUR. 

Yea, Soul, and should our prophet say 480 

That form was nought but breathing clay, 
By Alia ! I would answer nay ; 
Though on Al-Sirat's 2I arch I stood, 
Which totters o'er the fiery flood, 

With Paradise within my view, 485 

And all his Houris beckoning through. 
Oh ! who young Leila's glance could read 
And keep that portion of his creed 2Z 
Which saith, that woman is but dust, 
A soulless toy for tyrant's lust ? 490 

On her might Muftis gaze, and own 
I That through her eye the Immortal shone 
On her fair cheek's unfading hue, 
The young pomegranate's 23 blossoms strew 
Their bloom in blushes ever new 49.5 

Her hair in hyacinthine a4 flow 
When left to roll its folds below ; 
As midst her handmaids in the hall 
She stood superior to them all, 

Hath swept the marble where her feet 500 

Gleamed whiter than the mountain sleet 



THE GIAOLlt. 25 

Ere from the cloud that gave it birth, 

It tell, and caught one stain of earth. 

The cygnet nobly walks the \vater 

So moved on earth Circassia's daughter 505 

The loveliest bird of Franguestan ! 1S 

As rears her crest the ruffled Swan, 

And spurns the wave with wings of pride, 
When pass the steps of stranger man 

Along the banks that bound her tide; 510 

Thus rose fair Leila's whiter neck : 
Thus armed with beauty would she check 
Intrusion's glance, till Folly's gaze 
Shrunk from the charms it meant to praise. 
Thus high and graceful was her gait ; 515 

Her heart as tender to her mate 
Her mate stern Hassan, who was he ? 
Alas ! that name was not for thee ! 
******** 



Stern Hassan hath a journey ta'en 
With twenty vassals in his train, .520 

Each armM as best becomes a man 
With arquebuss and ataghan ; 



; THE GIAOUR. 

The chief before, as deck'd for war 

Bears in his belt the scimitar 

Stain'd with the best of Arnaut blood, 52.5 

When in the pass the rebels stood, 

And few returned to tell the tale 

Of what befell in Fame's vale. 

The pistols which his girdle bore 

Were those that once a pasha wore, 530 

Which still, though gemm'd and boss'd with gold, 

Even robbers tremble to behold. 

'Tis said he goes to woo a bride 

More true than her who left his side ; 

The faithless slave that broke her bower, 53,5 

And, worse than faithless, for a Giaour I- 



The sun's last rays are on the hill, 
And sparkle in the fountain rill, 
Whose welcome waters cool and clear, 
Draw blessings from the mountaineer ; 540 

Here may the loitering merchant Greek 
Find that repose 'twere vain- to seek 



THE GIAOUR. 27 

In cities lodg'd too near his lord, 
And trembling for his secret hoard- 
Here may he rest where none can see, 54.5 
In crowds a slave, in deserts free ; 
And with forbidden wine may stain 
The bowl a Moslem must not drain. 
******** 

The foremost Tartar's in the gap, 
Conspicuous by his yellow cap, 550 

The rest in lengthening line the while 
Wind slowly through the long defile ; 
Above, the mountain rears a peak, 
Where vultures whet the thirsty beak, 
And their's may be a feast to-night, 555 

Shall tempt them down ere morrow's light. 
Beneath, a river's wintry stream 
Has shrunk before the summer beam, 
And left a channel bleak and bare, 
Save shrubs that spring to perish there. 560 

Each side the midway path there lay 
Small broken crags of granite gray, 



THE GIAOUR. 

By time or mountain lightning riven, 

From summits clad in mists of heaven ; 

For where is he that hath beheld 56.5 

The peak of Liakura unveil'd ? 



They reach the grove of pine at last, 
* Bismillah ! 16 now the peril's past ; 
a For yonder view the opening plain, 
" And there we'll prick our steeds amain :" 570 

The Chiaus spake, and as he said, 
A bullet whistled o'er his head ; 
The foremost Tartar bites the ground ! 

Scarce had they time to check the rein 
Swift from their steeds the riders bound, 575 

But three shall never mount again, 
Unseen the foes that gave the wound, 

The dying ask revenge in vain. 
With steel unsheath'd, and carbine bent, 
Some o'er their courser's harness leant, 580 

Half shelter'd by the steed, 
Some fly behind the nearest rock, 
And there await the coming shock, 



THE GIAOl It. '& 

Nor tamely stand to bleed 

Beneath the shaft of foes unseen, 585 

Who dare not quit their craggy screen. 
Stern Hassan only from his horse 
Disdains to light, and keeps his course, 
Till fiery flashes in the van 

Proclaim too sure the robber-clan 590 

Have well secur'd the only way 
Could now avail the promis'd prey ; 
Then ctirl'd his very beard 87 with ire, 
And glared his eye with fiercer fire. 
" Though far and near the bullets hiss, 595 

" Fve scaped a bloodier hour than this." 
And now the foe their covert quit, 
And call his vassals to submit ; 
Rut Hassan's frown and furious word 
Are dreaded more than hostile sword, GOO 

Nor of his little band a man 
Resigned carbine or ataghan 
Nor raised the craven cry, Amaun ! 1 
In fuller sight, more near and near, 
The lately ambush'd foes appear, f,05 







30 THE GIAOUR. 

And issuing from the grove advance, 

Some who on battle charger prance. 

Who leads them on with foreign brand, 

Far flashing in his red right hand ? 

" Tis he 'tis he I know him now, 6 1 

" I know him by his pallid brow ; 

" I know him by the evil eye 29 

" That aids his envious treachery; 

"I know him by his jet-black barb, 

" Though now array 'd in Arnaut garb, 615 

" Apostate from his own vile faith, 

" It shall not save him from the death ; 

" 'Tis he, well met in any hour, 

" Lost Leila's love accursed Giaour!" 

As rolls the river into ocean, 620 

lu sable torrent wildly streaming ; 

As the sea-tide's opposing motion 
In afcure column proudly gleaming, 
Beats back the current many a rood, 
In curling foam and mingling flood; 62$ 



THE G1AOUK. 31 

\Vhi!e eddying whirl, and breaking wave, 

Roused by the blast of winter rave ; 

Through sparkling spray in thundering clash, 

The lightnings of the waters flash 

In ftwefu) whiteness o'er the shore, 630 

That shines and shakes beneath the roar ; 

Tims as the stream and ocean greet, 

With waves that madden as they meet 

Thus join the bands whom mutual wrong, 

And fate and fury drive along. 635 

The bickering sabres' shivering jar 

And pealing wide or ringing near 

It's echoes on the throbbing ear 
The deathshot hissing from afar 
The shock the shout the groan of war O'lO 

Reverberate along that vale, 

More suited to the shepherd's tale : 
Though few the numbers their's the strife, 
That neither spares nor speaks for life ! 
Ah! fondly youthful hearts can press-, 645 

To seire and share the dear caress j 



32 THE GIAOUR. 

But Love itself could never pant 

For all that Beauty sighs to grant, 

With half the fervour Hate bestows 

Upon the last embrace of foes, 650 

When grappling in the fight they fold 

Those arms that ne'er shall lose their hold; 

Friends meet to part Love laughs at faith ; - 

True foes, once met, are joined till death ! 



With sabre shiver'd to the hilt, 655 

Yet dripping with the blood he spilt ; 

Yet strain'd within the severed hand 

Which quivers round that faithless brand ; 

His turban far behind him roli'd, 

And cleft in twain its firmest fold ; 660 

His flowing robe by falchion torn, 

And crimson as those clouds of mom 

That streak'd with dusky red, portend 

The day shall have a stormy end; 

A stain on every bush that bore 65 

A fragment of his palampore, 3 * 



THE GIAOUR. 33 

His breast with wounds unnumber'd riven, 

His back to earth, his face to heaven, 

Fall'ii Hassan lies his unclos'd eve 

Yet lowering on his enemy, 670 

As if the hour that seal'd his fate, 

Surviving left his quenchless hate ; 

And o'er him bends that foe with 

As dark as his that bled below, 

******* 



vith brow 

>v. 



" Yes, Leila sleeps beneath the wave, 675 

" But his shall be a redder grave ; 
" Her spirit pointed well the steel 
" Which taught that felon heart to feel. $^ 

" He call'd the Prophet, but his power 
" Was vain against the vengeful Giaour : 680 

" He called on Alia but the word 
" Arose unheeded or unheard. 
" Thou Paynim fool ! could Leila's prayer 
" Be pass'd, and thine accorded there ? 
" I watch'd iny time, I leagued with these, 685 

" The traitor in his turn to seize ; 

D 



34 THE GIAOUR. 

" My wrath is wreak'd, the deed is done, " 

" And now I go but go alone." 

* * * * * * * 

******* 

The browzing camels' bells are tinkling 
His Mother looked from her lattice high, 690 

She saw the dews of eve besprinkling 
The pasture green beneath her eye, 

She saw the planets faintly twinkling, 
" 'Tis twilight sure his train is nigh." 
She could not rest in the garden-bower, 695 

But gazed through the grate of his steepest tower 
" Why comes he not ? his steeds are fleet, 
" Nor shrink they from the summer heat ; 
" Why sends not the Bridegroom his promised gift, 
" Is his heart more cold, or his barb less swift ? 700 
" Oh, false reproach ! yon Tartar now 
" Has gained our nearest mountain's brow, 
" And warily the steep descends, 
" And now within the valley bends ; 



THE GIAOUR. 35 

" And he bears the gift at his saddle bow 705 

" How could I deem his courser slow ? 

" Right well my largess shall repay 

" His welcome speed, and weary way." 

The Tartar lighted at the gate, 

But scarce upheld his fainting weight; 710 

His swarthy visage spake distress, 

But this might be from weariness ; 

His garb with sanguine spots was dyed, 

But these might be from his courser's side ; 

He drew the token from his vest 715 

Angel of Death ! 'tis Hassan's cloven crest ! 

His calpac 31 rent his caftan red p** * 

" Lady, a fearful bride thy Son hath wed 

" Me, not from mercy, did they spare, 

" But this empurpled pledge to bear. 720 

" Peace to the brave ! whose blood is spilt 

" Woe to the Giaour ! for his the guilt." 

****** * 

D2 



36 



THE GIAOUR. 



A turban 32 carv'd in coarsest stone, 
A pillar with rank weeds o'ergrown, 
Whereon can now be scarcely read 
The Koran verse that mourns the dead ; 
Point out the spot where Hassan fell 
A victim in that lonely dell. 
There sleeps as true an Osmanlie 
As e'er at Mecca bent the knee ; 
As ever scorn'd forbidden wine, 
Or pray'd with face towards the shrine, 
In orisons resumed anew 
At solemn sound of" Alia Hu!"" 
Yet died he by a stranger's hand, 
And stranger in his native land 
Yet died he as in arms he stood, 
And unaveng'd, at least in blood. 
But him the maids of Paradise 

Impatient to their halls invite, 
And the dark Heaven of Houri's eyes 

On him shall glance for ever bright ; 
They come their kerchiefs green they wave, 34 
And welcome with a kiss the brave ! 



725 



730 



735 



740 



THE GIAOUR. 

Who falls in battle 'gainst a Giaour, 
Is worthiest an immortal bower. 

**-***** 



37 
745 






But thou, false Infidel ! shalt writhe 
Beneath avenging Monkir's 3S scythe ; 
And from its torment 'scape alone 
To wander round lost Eblis' 36 throne ; 
And fire unquench'd, unquenchable 
Around within thy heart shall dwell, 
Nor ear can hear, nor tongue can tell 
The tortures of that inward hell ! 
But first, on earth as Vampire 37 sent, 
Thy corse shall from its tomb be rent ; 
Then ghastly haunt thy native place, 
And suck the blood of all thy race, 
There from thy daughter, sister, wife, 
At midnight drain the stream of life ; 
Yet loathe the banquet which perforce 
Must feed thy livid living corse ; 
Thy victims ere they yet expire 
Shall know the daemon for their sire, 



750 



755 



760 



38 THE GIAOUK. 

As cursing thee, thou cursing them, 765 

Thy flowers are wither'd on the stem. 

But one that for thy crime must fall 

The youngest most belov'd of all, 

Shall bless thee with a. father's name 

That word shall wrap thy heart in flame! 770 

Yet must thou end thy task, and mark 

Her cheek's last tinge, her eye's last spark, 

And the last glassy glance must view 

Which freezes o'er its lifeless blue ; 

Then with unhallowed hand shalt tear 77-5 

The tresses of her yellow hair, 

Of which in life a lock when shorn, 

Affection's fondest pledge was worn ; 

But now is borne away by thee, 

Memorial of thine agony! 780 

Wet with thine own best blood shall drip, 38 

Thy gnashing tooth and haggard lip ; 

Then stalking to thy sullen grave 

Go and with Gouls and Afrits rave; 



TIIE GIAOUlt 39 

Till these in horror shrink away 785 

From spectre more accursed than they! 



" How name ye yon lone Caloyer ? ^<V^ 

" His features I have scann'd before 
" In mine own land 'tis many a year, 

" Since, dashing by the lonely shore, 790 

t I saw him urge as fleet a steed 
" As ever serv'd a horseman's need. 
" But once I saw that face yet then 
" It was so mark'd with inward pain 

" I could not pass it by again ; 79.5 

\ 
11 It breathes the same dark spirit now, 

" As death were stamped upon his brow. J 



4 



" 'Tis twice three years at summer tide 
" Since first among our freres he came ; 

" And here it soothes him to abide 800 

" For some dark deed he will not name. 

" But never at our vesper prayer, 

" Nor e'er before confession chair 



40 THE GIAOUR. 

" Kneels he, nor recks lie when arise 
" Incense or anthem to the skies, 805 

" But broods within his cell alone, 
i " His faith and race alike unknown. 
" The sea from Paynim land he crost, 
" And here ascended from the coast, 
" Yet seems he not of Othman race, 810 

" But only Christian in his face : 
" I'd judge him some stray renegade, 
" Repentant of the change he made, 
" Save that he shuns our holy shrine, 
te Nor tastes the sacred bread and wine. 815 

" Great largess to these walls he brought, 
|" And thus our abbot's favour bought } 
" But were I Prior, not a day 
'" Should brook such stranger's further stay, 
" Or pent within our penance cell 820 

" Should doom him there for aye to dwell. 
" Much in his visions mutters he 
" Of maiden ? whelmed beneath the sea; 
" Of sabres clashing foemen flying, 
" Wrongs aveng'd and Moslem dying. 825 






THE GIAOUR. 41 

u On cliff he hath been known to stand, 

" And rave as to some bloody hand 

" Fresh sever'd from its parent limb, 

" Invisible to all but him, 

" Which beckons onward to his grave, S30 

" And lures to leap into the wave." 



Dark and unearthly is the scowl 

That glares beneath his dusky cowl 

The flash of that dilating eye 

Reveals too much of times gone by 835 

Though varying indistinct its hue, 

Oft will his glance the gazer rue 

For in it lurks that nameless spell 

Which speaks itself unspeakable J 

A spirit yet unquelled and high 840 

That claims and keeps ascendancy, 

And like the bird whose pinions quake 

But cannot fly the gazing snake 

Will others quail beneath his look, 

Nor 'scape the glance they scarce can brook. 845 



42 THE GIAOUR. 

From him the half-affrighted Friar 
When met alone would fain retire 
As if that eye and bitter smile 
Transferred to others fear and guile 



_ [ot oft to smile descendeth he, 850 



N( 

And when he doth 'tis sad to see 
That he but mocks at Misery. 
. How that pale lip will curl and quiver ! 
Then fix once more as if for ever 
As if his sorrow or disdain 855 

Forbade him e'er to smile again. 
Well were it so such ghastly mirth 

From joyaunce ne'er deriv'd its birth. 

- 
But sadder still it were to trace 

What once were feelings in that face 860 

Time hath not yet the features fixed, 
But brighter traits with evil mixed 
And there are hues not always faded, 
Which speak a mind not all degraded 
Even by the crimes through which it waded 865 

. The common crowd but see the gloom 
Of wayward deeds and fitting doom 



TIII-: GIAOI it 



4:5 



The close observer can espy 

A noble soul, and lineage high. 

Alas ! though both bestowed in vain, 870 

Which Grief could change and Guilt could stain 

It was no vulgar tenement 

To which such lofty gifts were lent, 

And still with little less than dread 

On such the sight is riveted. $15 

The roofless cot decayed and rent, 

Will scarce delay the passer by 
The tower by war or tempest bent, 
While yet may frown one battlement, 

Demands and daunts the stranger's eye 330 

Each ivied arch and pillar lone, 
Pleads haughtily for glories gone ! 

" His floating robe around him folding, 

" Slow sweeps he through the columned aisle 

" With dread beheld with gloom beholding 885 

" The rites that sanctify the pile. 

" But when the anthem shakes the choir, 

" And kneel the monks his steps retire 



44 THE GUOUR. 

" By yonder lone and wavering torch 

" His aspect glares within the porch ; 890 

" There will he pause till all is done 

"" And hear the prayer but utter none. 

See by the half-illumin'd wall 

" His hood fly back his dark hair fall 

" That pale brow wildly wreathing round, S95 

" As if the Gorgon there had bound 

" The sablest of the serpent-braid 

" That o'er her fearful forehead strayed. 

" For he declines the convent oath, 

" And leaves those locks unhallowed growth 900 

" But wears our garb in all beside ; 

" And not from piety but pride 

t( Gives wealth to walls that never heard 

" Of his one holy vow nor word. 

" Lo ! mark ye as the harmony 905 

t Peals louder praises to the sky 

" That livid cheek that stoney air 

" Of mixed defiance and despair ! 

" Saint Francis ! keep him from the shrine ! 

" Else may we dread the wrath divine 910 



THE GIAOUR. 45 

u Made manifest by awful sign. 

" If ever evil angel bore 

" The form of mortal, such he wore 

" By all my hope of sins forgiven 

" Such looks are not of earth nor heaven !" 9 1 /> 

To love the softest hearts are prone, 

But such can ne'er be all his own ; 

Too timid in his woes to share, 

Too meek to meet, or brave despair ; 

And sterner hearts alone may feel 1)20 

The wound that time can never heal. 

The rugged metal of the mine 

Must burn before its surface shine, 

But plung'd within the furnace-flame, 

It bends and melts though still the same ; 925 

Then tempered to thy want, or will, 

'Twill serve thee to defend or kill ; 

A breast-plate for thine hour of need, 

Or blade to bid thy foeman bleed ; 

But if a dagger's form it bear, 930 

Let those who shape it's edge, beware ! 



46 THE GIAOUR. 

Thus passion's fire, and woman's art, 
< Can turn and tame the sterner heart ; 
From these its form and tone are ta'en, 
And what they make it, must remain, 935 

But break before it bend again. 



- 



* # 


* 


* 


* * 


* * 



If solitude succeed to grief, 
Release from pain is slight relief; 
The vacant bosom's wilderness 

Might thank the pang that made it less. 940 

We loathe what none are left to share- 
Even bliss 'twere woe alone to bear ; 
The heart once left thus desolate, 
Must fly at last for ease to hate. 

It is as if the dead could feel 94,5 

The icy worm around them steal, 
And shudder, as the reptiles creep 
To revel o'er their rotting sleep 
Without the power to scare away 
The cold consumers of their clay ! 950 



THE GIAOUR. 4? 

It is as if the desart-bird, 3 ' 

Whose beak unlocks her bosom's stream ; 

To still her famish'd nestlings' scream, 
Nor mourns a life to them transferr'd ; 
Should rend her rash devoted breast, 955 

And find them flown her empty nest. 
The keenest pangs the wretched find 

Are rapture to the dreary void 
The leafless desart of the mind 

The waste of feelings unemploy'd 960 

Who would be doom'd to gaze upon 
A sky without a cloud or sun ? 
Less hideous far the tempest's roar, J 
Than ne'er to brave the billows more-^ 
Thrown, when the war of winds is o'er, 965 

A lonely wreck on fortune's shore, 
'Mid sullen calm, and silent bay, 
Unseen to drop by dull decay ; 
Better to sink beneath the shock 
Than moulder piecemeal on the rock ! 970 



48 THE GIAOUR. 

" Father ! thy days have pass'd in peace, 

" Mid counted beads, and countless prayer; 

" To bid the sins of others cease, 
*' Thyself without a crime or care, 

" Save transient ills that all must bear, 975 

" Has been thy lot, from youth to age, 

" And thou wilt bless thee from the rage 

" Of passions tierce and uncontroufd, 

" Such as thy penitents unfold, 

" Whose secret sins and sorrows rest 980 

" Within thy pure and pitying breast. 

" My days, though few, have pass'd below 

" In much of joy, but more of woe ; 

" Yet still in hours of love or strife, 

" I've scap'd the weariness of life ; 985 

" Now leagu'd with friends, now girt by foes, 

" I loath'd the languor of repose ; 

" Now nothing left to love or hate, 

" No more with hope or pride elate ; 

" I'd rather be the thing that crawls 990 

" Most noxious o'er a dungeon's walls, 



THE GIAOUH. 40 

" Than pass my dull, unvarying days, 

" Condemned to meditate and gaze 

" Yet, lurks a wish within my breast 

" For rest but not to feel 'tis rest '95 

" Soon shall my fate that wish fulfil ; 

" And I shall sleep without the dream 
" Of what I was, and would be still, 

" Dark as to thee my deeds may seem 
" My memory now is but the tomb 1000 

" Of joys long dead my hope their doom: 
" Though better to have died with those 
" Than bear a life of lingering woes 
" My spirit shrunk not to sustain 
" The searching throes of ceaseless pain; 1005 

" Nor sought the self-accorded grave 
" Of ancient fool, and modern knave : 
" Yet death I have not fear'd to meet, 
" And in the field it had been sweet 
" Had danger wooed me on to move J010 

" The slave of glory, not of love. 
" I've brav'd it not for honour's boast ; 
" I smile at laurels won or lost. 



50 THE GIAOUR. 

" To such let others carve their way, 

" For high renown, or hireling pay; 1015 

" But place again before my eyes 

" Aught that I deem a worthy prize ; 

" The maid I love the man I hate 

" And I will hunt the steps of fate, 

" (To save or slay as these require) 1 020 

" Through rending steel, and rolling fire ; 

" Nor need'st thou doubt this speech from one 

" Who would but do what he hath done. 

" Death is but what the haughty brave 

" The weak must bear the wretch must crave 1025 

"Then let Life go to him who gave; 

" I have not quailed to danger's brow 

" When high and happy need I now ? 



" I lov'd her, friar ! nay, adored 

" But these are words that all can use 1030 

" I prov'd it more in deed than word 
tf There's blood upon that dinted sword 



THE GIAOUR. 



.51 



" A stain it's steel can never lose : 
:< 'Twas shed for her, \vho died for me, 

" It warmed the heart of one abhorred: 1035 

" Nay, start not no nor bend thy knee, 

" Nor midst my sins such act record, 
" Thou wilt absolve me from the deed, 
" For he was hostile to thy creed ! 
" The very name of Nazarene 1040 

" Was wormwood to his Paynim spleen, 
" Ungrateful fool! since but for brands, 
" Well wielded in some hardy hands ; 
" And wounds by Galileans given, 
" The surest pass to Turkish heav'n ; 1045 

" For him his Houris still might wait 
" Impatient at the prophet's gate. 
" I lov'd her love will find its way 
' Through paths where wolves would fear to prey, 
" And if it dares enough, 'twere hard 1050 

" If passion met not some reward 
" No matter how or where or why, 
" I did not vainly seek nor sigh : 

E 2 



52 THE GIAOUR. 

" Yet sometimes with remorse in vain 
" I wish she had not lovM again. 1055 

t She died I dare not tell thee how, 
" But look 'tis written on my brow ! 
" There read of Cain the curse and crime, 
" In characters unworn by time : 
" Still, ere thou dost condemn me pause 1060 
" Not mine the act, though I the cause ; 
" Yet did he but what I had done 
" Had she been false to more than one ; 
" Faithless to him he gave the blow, 
" But true to me I laid him low ; 1065 

u Howe'er deserv'd her doom might be, 
" Her treachery was truth to me ; 
" To me she gave her heart, that all 
u Which tyranny can ne'er enthrall ; 
" And I, alas ! too late to save, 1 070 

" Yet all I then could give I gave 
*' 'Twas some relief our foe a grave. 
" His death sits lightly ; but her fate 
u Has made me what thou well may'st hate. 
" His doom was seaPd he knew it well, 1075 

in 



THE GIAOUlt 53 

" Warn'd by the voice of stern Taheer, 
" Deep in whose darkly boding ear 40 
" The deathshot peal'd of murder near 
"As filed the troop to where they fell ! 

" He died too in the battle broil 1080 

" A time that heeds nor pain nor toil 

" One cry to Mahomet for aid, 

" One prayer to Alia all he made : 

" He knew and crossed me in the fray 

** I gazed upon him where he lay, 1085 

41 And watched his spirit ebb away; 

" Though pierced like Pard by hunters' steel, 

" He felt not half that now I feel. 

" I search'd, but vainly search'd to find, 

" The workings of a wounded mind; 1090 

41 Each feature of that sullen corse 

" Betrayed his rage, but no remorse. 

" Oh, what had Vengeance given to trace 

" Despair upon his dying face ! 

" The late repentance of that hour, 1095 

" When Penitence hath lost her power 



54 THE GIAOUR. 

t To tear one terror from the grave 
" And will not soothe, and can not save! 

****** 

" The cold in clime are cold in blood, 

" Their love can scarce deserve the name ; 1 100 
" But mine was like the lava flood 

" That boils in ^Etna's breast of flame, 
" I cannot prate in puling strain 
" Of ladye-love, and beauty's chain ; 
" If changing cheek, and scorching vein- 1 105 

" Lips taught to writhe, but not complain 
" If bursting heart, and mad'ning brain 
" And daring deed, and vengeful steel 
" And all that I have felt and feel 
" Betoken love that love was mine, 1 110 

" And shewn by many a bitter sign. 
" 'Tis true, I could not whine nor sigh, 
" I knew but to obtain or die. 
" I die but first I have possest, 

" And come what may, I have been blest ; 1115 

" Shall I the doom I sought upbraid ? 
" No reft of all yet undismayed 



THE GIAOUR. 55 

" But for the thought of Leila slain, 

" Give me the pleasure with the pain, 

" So would I live and love again. 1 120 

" I grieve, but not, my holy guide ! 

" For him who dies, but her who died ; 

" She sleeps beneath the wandering wave, 

" Ah ! had she but an earthly grave, 

" This breaking heart and throbbing head 1 125 

" Should seek and share her narrow bed. 

" She was a form of life and light 

" That seen became a part of sight, 

" And rose where'er I turned mine eye 

" The Morning-star of Memory ! 1130 

" Yes, Love indeed is light from heaven 

" A spark of that immortal fire 
" With angels shar'd by Alia given, 

" To lift from earth our low desire. 
" Devotion wafts the mind above, 1 1 35 

" But Heaven itself descends in love 
" A feeling from the Godhead caught, 
" To wean from self each sordid thought 



$6 THE GIAOUK. 

!" A Ray of him who form'd the whole 
" A Glory circling round the soul ! 1 14O 

" I grant my love imperfect all 
" That mortals by the name miscall 
" Then deem it evil what thou wilt 
" But say, oh say, hers was not guilt ! 
" She was my life's unerring light 1145 

" That quench'd what beam shall break my night ? 
" Oh ! would it shone to lead me still, 
" Although to death or deadliest ill! 
" Why marvel ye ? if they who lose 

' This present joy, this future hope, 1 150 

" No more with sorrow meekly cope 
" In phrenzy then their fate accuse 
" In madness do those fearful deeds 

" That seem to add but guilt to woe, 
" Alas! the breast that inly bleeds 115,5 

" Hath nought to dread from outward blow 
" Who falls from all he knows of bliss, 
" Cares little into what abyss. 
" Fierce as the gloomy vulture's now 

" To thee, old man, my deeds appear 1 1 60 



THE GIAOUU. 57 

" I read abhorrence on thy brow, 

" And this too was I bom to bear! 
" "Vis true, that, like that bird of prey, 
" With havock have I mark'd my way 
" But this was taught rue by the dove 1 16,5 

" To die and know no second love. 
" This lesson yet hath man to learn, 
" Taught by the thing he dares to spurn 
" The bird that sings within the brake, 
" The swan that swims upon the lake, 1 110 

" One mate, and one alone, will take. 
" And let the fool still prone to range, 
" And sneer on all who cannot change 
" Partake his jest with boasting boys, 
" I envy not his varied joys 1 175 

" But deem such feeble, heartless man, 
" Less than yon solitary swan 
" Far far beneath the shallow maid 
" He left believing and betray'd. 

" Such shame at least was never mine 1 1 80 

" Leila each thought was only thine ! 
" My good, my guilt, my weal, my woe, 
" My hope on high my all below. 



58 THE GIAOUR. 

" Earth holds no other like to thee, 

" Or if it doth, in vain for me 1 185 

" For worlds I dare not view the dame 

" Resembling thee, yet not the same. 

" The very crimes that mar my youth 

" This bed of death attest my truth 

" 'Tis all too late thou wert thou art 1190 

" The cherished madness of my heart ! 

" And she was lost and yet I breathed, 

" But not the breath of human life 
u A serpent round my heart was wreathed, 

" And stung my every thought to strife. 1195 

" Alike all time abhorred all place, 
tf Shuddering I shrunk from Nature's face, 
" Where every hue that charmed before 
" The blackness of my bosom wore : 
" The rest thou do'st already know, 1200 

" And all my sins and half my woe 
" But talk no more of penitence, 
" Thou see'st I soon shall part from hence 
" And if thy holy tale were true 
" The deed that's done can'st thou undo ? 1205 



THE GIAOUR 



.09 



Think me not thankless but this grief 
Looks not to priesthood for relief. 4I 
My soul's estate in secret guess 
But vvoulcTst thou pity more say less 
When thou can'st bid my Leila live, 
Then'will I sue thee to forgive; 
Then plead my cause in that high place 
Where purchased masses proffer grace 
Go when the hunter's hand hath wrung 
From forest-cave her shrieking young, 
And calm the lonely lioness 
But soothe not mock not my distress ! 



" In earlier days, and calmer hours, 
" When heart with heart delights to blend, 

" Where bloom my native valley's bowers 
" I had Ah ! have I now ? a friend ! 

" To him this pledge I charge thee send 

" Memorial of a youthful vow ; 

" I would remind him of my end, 

" Though souls absorbed like mine allow 

" Brief thought to distant friendship's claim, 

" Yet dear to him my blighted name. 



1210 



1215 



1225 



GO THE GIAOUR. 



" 'Tis strange he prophesied my doom, 

" And I have smil'd (I then could smile ) 

" When Prudence would his voice assume, 1230 

" And warn I reck'd not what the while 

" But now remembrance whispers o'er 

" Those accents scarcely mark'd before. 

" Say that his bodings came to pass, 

" And he will start to hear their truth, 1235 

" And wish his words had not been sooth, 

" Tell him unheeding as I was 
" Through many a busy bitter scene 
" Of all our golden youth had been 

" In pain, rny faultering tongue had tried 1240 

" To bless his memory ere I died ; 

" But heaven in wrath would turn away, 

" If Guilt should for the guiltless pray. 

" I do not ask him not to blame 

" Too gentle he to wound my name ; 1245 

" And what have I to do with fame ? 

lt I do not ask him not to mourn, 

" Such cold request might sound like scorn ; 



THE GIAOUR. 



" And what than friendship's manly tear 
" May better grace a brother's bier? 
" But bear this ring his own of old 
" And tell him what thou dost behold ! 
" The wither'd frame, the ruined mind, 
" The wrack by passion left behind 
" A shrivelled scroll, a scattered leaf, 
" Sear'd by the autumn blast of grief! 



f I 



1250 



** Tell me no more of fancy's gleam, 
" No, father, no, 'twas not a dream ; 
" Alas ! the dreamer first must sleep, 
" I only watch'd, and wish'd to weep ; 
" But could not, for my burning brow 
" Throbb'd to the very brain as now. 
" I wish'd but for a single tear, 
" As something welcome, new, and dear; 
" I wish'd it then I wish it still, 
" Despair is stronger than my will. 
" Waste not thine orison despair 
" Is mightier than thy pious prayer ; 



1260 



THE GIAOUR. 

" I would not, if I might, be blest, 

" I want no paradise but rest. 1270 

" 'Twas then, I tell thee, father! then 

" I saw her yes she liv'd again ; 

" And shining in her white symar, 4 * 

" As through yon pale grey cloud the star 

" Which now I gaze on, as on her 1275 

" Who look'd and looks far lovelier ; 

" Dimly I view its trembling spark 

" To-morrow's night shall be more dark 

" And I before its rays appear, 

" That lifeless thing the living fear. 1280 

" I wander, father ! for my soul 

" Is fleeting towards the final goal ; 

" I saw her, friar ! and I rose, 

" Forgetful of our former woes ; 

tl And rushing from my couch, I dart, 1285 

" And clasp her to my desperate heart ; 

" I clasp what is it that I clasp ? 

" No breathing form within my grasp, 

" No heart that beats reply to mine, 

" Yet, Leila ! vet the form is thine ! 1290 



THK Gfiont. 






4 ' And art thou, dearest, chang'd so much, 

" As meet my eye, yet mock my touch ? 

" Ah ! were thy beauties e'er so cold, 

" I care not so my arms enfold 

" The all they ever wish'd to hold. 1295 

" Alas ! around a shadow prest, 

(< They shrink upon my lonely breast ; 

" Yet still 'tis there in silence stands, 

" And beckons with beseeching hands ! 

" With braided hair, and bright-black eye 1300 

" I knew 'twas false she could not die ! 

" But he is dead within the deli 

" I saw him buried where he fell ; 

" He comes not for he cannot break 

" From earth why then art thou awake ? 1 305 

" They told me, wild waves rolPd above 

" The face I view, the form I love ; 

" They told me 'twas a hideous tale ! 

" I'd tell it but my tougue would fail 

" If true and from thine ocean-cave 13 W 

" Thou com'st to claim a calmer grave ; 

" Oh ! pass thy dewy fingers o'er 

" This brow that then will burn no more ; 



64 THE GIAOUR. 

" Or place them on my hopeless heart 
" But, shape or shade ! \vhute'er thou art, 131/5 

u In mercy, ne'er again depart 
" Or farther with thee bear my soul, 
" Than winds can waft or waters roll! 
* * * -x- * * 

" Such is my name, and such my tale, 

" Confessor to thy secret ear, f 32O 

" I breathe the sorrows I bewail, 

" And thank thee for the generous tear 
u This glazing eye could never shed, 
" Then lay me with the humblest dead, 
" And save the cross above my head, 1 325 

" Be neither name nor emblem spread 
" By prying stranger to be read, 
u Or stay the passing pilgrim's tread." 
He pass'd nor of his name and race 
Hath left a token or a trace, 1330 

Save what the father must not say 
Who shrived him on his dying day ; 
This broken tale was all we knew 
Of her he lov'd, or him he slew. 43 



NOTES 



TO 



THE GIAOUR, 



Note I, page 1, line 3. 
TJiat tomb, which, gleaming o'er the cliff". 
A tomb above the rocks on the promontory, by some supposed 
the sepulchre of Themistocles. 

Note 2, page 2, line 7- 
Sultana of the Nightingale. 

The attachment of the nightingale to the rose is a well-known 
Persian fable if I mistake not, the " Bulbulofa thousand tales" is one 
of his appellations. 

Note 3, page 3, line 3. 
Till the gay mariner's guitar. 
The guitar is the constant amusement of the Greek sailor by night, 

I with a steady fair wind, and during a calm, it is accompanied always 
;>y the voice, and often by dancing. 



66 NOTES. 

Note 4, page 4, line 22. 
Where cold Obstruction's apathy. 
" Aye, but to die and go we know not where, 
" To lie in cold obstruction." 

Measure for Measure, Act III. 130. Sc. 2. 

Note 5, page 5, line 8. 
Thejirst last look by death reveal'd. 

I trust that few of my readers have ever had an opportunity of wit- 
nessing what is here attempted in description, but those who have will 
probably retain a painful remembrance of that singular beauty which 
pervades, with few exceptions, the features of the dead, a few hours, 
and but for a few hours after " the spirit is not there." It is to be re- 
marked in cases of violent death by gun-shot wounds, the expression is 
always that of languor, whatever the natural energy of the sufferer's 
character; but in death from a stab the countenance preserves its traits 
of feeling or ferocity, and the mind its bias, to the last. 

Note tj, page 8, line 5. 
Slaves nay the bondsmen of a slave. 

Athens is the property of the Kislar Aga, (the slave of the seraglio 
and guardian of the women), who appoints the Waywode. A pandar 
and eunuch these are not polite yet true appellations now governs 
the governor of Athens ! 

Note 7, page 10, line 2. 
'Tis calmer than thy heart, young Giaour. 
Infidel. 

NoteS, page 11, line 16. 
In echoes of the far tophaike. 

f< Tophaike/' musquet. The Bairam is announced by the cannon 
at sunset ; the illumination of the Mosques, and the firing of all kinds 
of small arms, loaded with lall, proclaim it during the night. 



NOTES. 



Note 9, page 12, line CO. 
Swift as the hnrlt d <>n lii^li jerreed. 

Jerreed, or Djerrid, a blunted Turkish javelin, which is darted from 
>rseback with great force and precision. It is a favourite exercise of 
ic Mussulmans ; but I know not if it can be called a manly one, since 
le most expert 'in the art are the Bhtck Eunuchs of Constantinople. 
think, next to these, a Mamlouk at Smyrna was the most skilful that 
ne within my own observation. 

Note 10, page 14, line 8. 
He came, he went, like the Simoom. 
The blast of the desart, fatal to every thing living, and often ai- 
led to iu eastern poetry. 

Note 11, page 17, line 4. 
To tless the sacred " Iread and salt" 

To partake of food to break bread and salt with your host insures 
ic safety of the guest, even though an enemy j his person from that 
mient is sacred. 

Note 12, page 17, line 12. 
Since his turban was cleft by the infidefs sabre. 
I need hardly observe, that Charity and Hospitality are the fir?t 
ities enjoined by Mahomet ; and to say truth, very generally practised 
his disciples. The first praise that can be bestowed on a chief, is a 
mejiyric on his bounty ; the next, on his valour. 

Note 13, page 17, line 16. 
And silver-sheathed ataghan. 
The ataghan, a Ions; dagger worn with pistols in the belt, in a 
metal scabbard, generally of silver - t and, among the wealthier, gilt, or 

of gold. 



6S NOTES. 

Note 14, page 17, line 18. 
An Emir ly his garb of' green. 

Green is the privileged colour of the prophet's numerous pre- 
tended descendants ; with them, as here, faith (the family inheritance) 
is supposed to supersede the necessity of good works j they are the worst 
of a very indifferent brood. 

Note 15, page 17, line 19. 
Ho ! who art thou ? this low salam. 

Salarn aleikoiun! aleikoum salam! peace be with you; be with 
you peace the salutation reserved for the faithful; to a Christian, 
" Urlarula," a good journey ; or saban hiresem, sabaii serula ; good 
morn, good even; and sometimes, " may your end be happy j" are the 
usual salutes. 

Note 16, page 19, line 12. 
The insect-queen of eastern spring. 

The blue-winged butterfly of Kashmeer, the most rare and beau- 
tiful of the species. 

Note 17, page 21, line 15. 
Or like the Scorpion girt ly fire. 

Alluding to the dubious suicide of the scorpion, so placed for ex- 
periment by gentle philosophers. Some maintain that the position of the 
sting, when turned towards the head, is merely a convulsive move- 
ment ; but others have actually brought in the verdict " Felo de se." 
The scorpions are surely interested in a speedy decision of the question , 
as, if once fairly established as insect Catos, they will probably be al- 
lowed to live as long as they think proper, without being martyred for 
the sake of an hypothesis. 

Note 18, page 22, line 11. 
When Rhamazan's last sun was set. 
T^he cannon ar. sunset close the Rhamazan ; see note 8. 



NOTES. 69 

Note 19, page 23, line 8. 
Ky pule Phingaris trembling light. 
Phingari, the moon. 

Note 20, page 23, line 19 
Hright as tltc jewel of Giamscliid. 

The celebrated fabulous ruby of Sultan Ginmschid, the embellisher 
of Jstakhar; from its splendour, named Schebgerag, "the torch of 
night ;" also, the ' cup of the sun," &c. In the first editions " Giams- 
chid" was written as a word of three syllables, so D'Herbelot has it; 
but I am told Richardson reduces it to a dissyllable, and writes " Jam- 
shid." I have left in the text the orthography of the one with the 
pronunciation of the other. 

Note 21 , page 24, line 4. 
Though on Al-SiraCs arch I stood. 

Al-Sirat, the bridge of breadth less than the thread of a famished 
spider, over which the Mussulmans must skate into Paradise, to which 
it is the only entrance ; but this is not the worst, the river beneath being 
hell itself, into which, as may be expected, the unskilful and tender of 
foot contrive to tumble with a " facilis descensus Averni," not very 
pleasing in prospect to the next passenger. There is a shorter cut down- 
wards for the Jews and Christians. 

Note 22, page 24, line 9. 
And keep that portion of his creed. 

A vulgar error; the Koran allots at least a third of Paradise to 
well-behaved women ; but by far the greater number of Mussulmans 
interpret the text their own way, and exclude their moieties from 
heaven. Being enemies to Platonics, they cannot discern " any fit- 
ness of things" in the souls of the other sex, conceiving them to be 
superseded by the Houris. 



70 NOTES. 

Note 23, page 24, line 15. 
The young pomegranate s blossoms strew. 

An oriental simile, which may, perhaps, though fairly stolen, be 
deemed " plus Arabe qu'en Arabic." 

Note 24, page 24, line 17. 
Her hair in hyacinlhine flow. 

Hyacinthine, in Arabic, " Sunbul," as common a thought in the 
eastern poets as it was among the Greeks. 

Note 25, page 25, line 5. 
The loveliest bird of Frangueslan. 
'* Franguestan," Circassia. 

Note 26, page 28, line 6. 
Bismillah ! now the peril's past. 

Bismillah " In the name of God;" the commencement of all 
the chapters of the Koran but one, and of prayer and thanksgiving. 

Note 27, page 29, line 10. 
Then curl'd his very beard with ire. 

A phenomenon not uncommon with an angry Mussulman. In 
1809, the Capitan Pacha's whiskers at a diplomatic audience were no 
less lively with indignation than a tiger cat's, to the horror of all the 
dragomans; the portentous mustachios twisted, they stood erect of their 
own accord, and were expected every moment to change their colour, 
but at last condescended to subside, which, probably, saved more head's 
than they contained hairs. 

Note 28, page 29, line 20. 
Nor raised the craven cry, Amaun ! 
" Amaun," quarter, pardon. 

Note 29, page 30, line 7. 
/ know him ly the evil eye. 
The " evil eye," a common superstition in the Levant, and of 




NOTES* 



71 



which the imaginary effects are yet very singular on those who conceive 
themselves affected. 

Note 30, page 32, line 20. 
A fragment of his palampore. 
The flowered shawls generally worn by persons of rank. 

Note 31, page 35, line 13. 
His calpac rent his caftan red. 

The " Calpac" is the solid cap or centre part of the head-dre?s; 
the shawl is wound round it, and forms the turban. 

Note 32, pageSG, line 1. 
A (urban carv'd in coarsest stone. 

The turban pillar and inscriptive verse, decorate the tombs of 
the Osmanlies, whether in the cemetery or the wilderness. In the 
mountains you frequently pass similar mementos $ and on enquiry you 
are informed that they record some victim of rebellion, plunder, or 
revenge. 

Note 33, page 36, line 12. 
At solemn sound of " Alia Hu /" 

"Alia Hu!" the concluding words of the Muezzin's call to 
prayer from the highest gallery on the exterior of the Minaret. On a 
still evening, when the Muezzin has a fine voice (which they fre- 
quently have) the effect is solemn and beautiful beyond all the bells in 
Christendom. 

Note 34, page 36, line 21. 
They come their kerchiefs green they wave. 

The following is part of a battle song of the Turks : " I see 1 
" see a dark-eyed girl of Paradise, and she waves a handkerchief, a 
" kerchief of green j and cries aloud, Come, kiss me, for I love thee," 
&c. 



72 NOTES. 

Note 35, page 37, line 4. 
Beneath avenging Monkir's scythe. 

Monklr and Nekir are the inquisitors of the dead, before whom 
the corpse undergoes a slight noviciate and preparatory training for 
damnation. If the answers are none of the clearest, he is hauled up 
with a scythe and thumped down with a red hot mace till properly sea- 
soned, with a variety of subsidiary probations. The office of these 
angels is no sinecure ; there are but two ; and the number of orthodox 
deceased being in a small proportion to the remainder, their hands are 
always full. 

Note 36, page 37, line 6. 
To wander round lost Ellis' throne. 
Eblis the Oriental Prince of Darkness. 

Note 37, page 37, line 1 1 . 
Butjirst, on earth as Vampire sent. 

The Vampire superstition is still general in the Levant. Honest 
Tournefort tells a long story, which Mr. Southey, in the notes on 
Thalaba, quotes about these " Vroucolochas," as he calls them. The 
Romaic term is " Vardoulacha." I recollect a whole family being 
terrified by the scream of a child, which they imagined must proceed 
from such a visitation. The Greeks never mention the word without 
horror. I find that " Broucolokas" is an old legitimate Hellenic ap- 
pellation at least is so applied to Arsenius, who, according to the 
Greeks, was after his death animated by the Devil. The moderns, 
however, use the word I mention. 

Note 38, page 38, line 17. 
Wet with thine own Lest Hood shall drip. 

The freshness of the face, and the wetness of the lip with blood, 
are the never-failing signs of a Vampire. The stories told in Hungary 
and Greece of these foul feeders are singular, and some of them most 
incredibly attested. \ 



NOTES. 



Note 39, page 47, line 1. 
It is as if the desart-lird. 

The pelican Is, I believe, the hird so libelled, by the imputation of 
ling her chickens with her blood. 

Note 40, page 53, line 2. 
Deep in whose darkly boding ear. 

This superstition of a second-hearing (for I never met with down- 
right second-sight in the East) fell once under my own observation. 
On my third journey to Cape Colonna early in 1811, as we passed 
through the defile that leads from the hamlet between Keratia and 
Colonna, I observed Dervish Tahiri riding rather out of the path, and 
leaning his head upon his hand, as if in pain. I rode up and enquired. 
" We are in peril," he answered. ' What peril ? we are not now in 
Albania, nor in the passes to Ephesus, Messalunghi, or Lepanto; there 
are plenty of us, well armed, and the Choriates have not courage to be 
thieves ?" " True, Affendi, but nevertheless the shot is ringing in my 
ears." "The shot! not a tophaike has been fired this morning." 
*' I hear it notwithstanding Bom Bom as plainly as I hear your 
voice." " Psha." "As you please, Affendi; if it is written, so 
will it be." I left this quickeared predestinarian, and rode up to 
Basili, his Christian compatriot ; whose ears, though not at all prophetic, 
by no means relished the intelligence. We all arrived at Colonna, 
remained some hours, and returned leisurely, saying a variety of bril- 
liant things, in more languages than spoiled the building of Babel, upon 
the mistaken seer. Romaic, Arnaout, Turkish, Italian, and English 
were all exercised, in various conceits, upon the unfortunate Mussulman. 
While we were contemplating the beautiful prospect, Dervish was 
occupied about the columns. I thought he was deranged into an 
antiquarian, and asked* him if he had become a " Palao-castro" man : 
" No," said he, " but these pillars will be useful in making a stand ;" 
and added other remarks, which at least evinced his own belief in hit 

o 



*4 NOTES. 

troublesome faculty of fore-hearing. On our return to Athens, we 
heard from Leone (a prisoner set ashore some days after) of the in- 
tended attack of the Mai notes, mentioned, with the cause of its not 
taking place, in the notes to Childe Harolde, Canto 2d. I was at 
some pains to question the man, and he described the dresses, arms, 
and marks of the horses of our party so accurately, that with other 
circumstances, we could not doubt of his having been in " villanous 
company," and ourselves in a bad neighbourhood. Dervish became 
a soothsayer for life, and J. dare say is now hearing more muscjuetry 
than ever will be fired, to the great refreshment of the Arnaouts of 
Berat, and his native mountains. I shall mention one trait more of 
this singular race. In March 1811, a remarkably stout and active 
Arnaont came (I believe the 50th on the same errand,) to offer himself 
as an attendant, which was declined : "Well, Affendi/'quoth he, "may 
you live ! you would have found me useful. I shall leave the town for 
the hills to-morrow, in the winter I return, perhaps you will then 
receive me." Dervish, who was present, remarked as a thing of course, 
And of no consequence, " in the mean time he will join the Klephtes," 
(robbers), which was true to the letter. If not cut off, they come down 
in the winter, and pass it unmolested in some town, where they are 
pften as well known as their exploits. 

Note 41, page 59, lines. 
Looks not to priesthood for relief. 

The monk's sermon is omitted. It seems to have had so little effect 
upon the patient, that it could have no hopes from the reader. It may 
be sufficient to say, that it was of a customary length, (as may be per- 
ceived from the interruptions and uneasiness of the penitent), and was 
delivered in the nasal tone of all orthodox preachers. 

Note 42, page 62, line 5. 
And shining in her white symar. 
," Symar" Shroud. 




NOTES. 75 

Note 43, page 64, last line. 

The circumstance to which the above story relates was not very un- 
common in Turkey. A few years ago the wife of Much tar Pacha com- 
plained to his father of his son's supposed infidelity ; he asked with 
whom, and she had the barbarity to give in a list of the twelve hand- 
somest women in Yanina. They were seized, fastened up in sacks, and 
drowned in the lake the same night ! One of the guards who was 
present informed me, that not one of the victims uttered a cry, or shewed 
a symptom ot' terror at so sudden a " wrench from all we know, 
from all we love." The fate of Phrosine, the fairest of this sacrifice, 
is the subject of many a Romaic and Arnaut ditty. The story in the 
text is one told of a young Venetian many years ago, and now nearly 
forgotten. I heard it by accident recited by one of the coffee-house 
story-tellers who abound in the Levant, and sing or recite their narra- 
tives. The additions and interpolations by the translator will be easily 
distinguished from the rest by the want of Eastern imagery; and I re- 
gret that my memory has retained so few fragments of the original. 

For the contents of some of the notes I am indebted partly to D'Her- 
belut, and partly to that most eastern, and, as Mr. Webb justly entitles 
it, " sublime tale," the " Caliph Vathek." I do not know from what 
source the author of that singular volume may have drawn his materials; 
some of his incidents are to be found in the "Bibliotheque Orientals ;" 
but for correctness of costume, beauty of description, and power of 
imagination, it far surpasses all European imitations; and bears such 
marks of originality, that those who have visited the East will find some 
difficulty in believing it to be more than a translation. As an Eastern 
tale, even Rasselas -must bow before it ; his s * Happy Valley" will not 
hear a comparison with the " Hall of Eblis." 




T. DAVISON, Lombard-street, 
Whitefriars, London. 









THE 



BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 



A TURKISH TALE. 



BY LORD BYRON. 



lind we never loved so kindly, 
Had we never loved so blindly, 
Never met or never parted, 
We had r,e'r been broken-hearted. 



EIGHTH EDITION. 



LONDON: 

Printed ly Thomas Datison, WJiitcfrinrs, 
FOR JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE-STREF.T. 

1814. 



TO 
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 

LORD HOLLAND, 

THIS TALE 

IS INSCRIBED, WITH 

EVERY SENTIMENT OF REGARD 

AND RESPECT, 

BY HIS GRATEFULLY OBLIGED 
AND SINCERE FRIEND, 

BYRON. 



Hd 



THE 

BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 

CANTO I. 



I. 

KNOW ye the land where the cypress and myrtle 
Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime, 

Where the rage of the vulture the love of the turtle 
Now melt into sorrow now madden to crime ?- 

Know ye the land of the cedar and vine ? 

Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine, 

Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppressed with perfume, 

Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gul x in her bloom ; 

Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit, 

And the voice of the nightingale never is mute ; 10 

Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky, 

In colour though varied, in beauty may vie, 

And the purple of Ocean is deepest in die ; 

Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine, 

And all, save the spirit of man, is divine 



\ THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 

'Tis the clime of the east 'tis the land of the Sun 
Can he smile on such deeds as his children have done ? * 
Oh ! wild as the accents of lovers' farewell 
Are the hearts which they bear, and the tales which they tell. 

II. 

Begirt with many a gallant slave, 20 

Apparelled as becomes the brave, 
Awaiting each his Lord's behest 
To guide his steps, or guard his rest, 
Old Giaffir sate in his Divan, 

Deep thought was in his aged eye ; 
And though the face of Mussulman 

Not oft betrays to standers by 
The mind within, well skilPd to hide 
All but unconquerable pride, 

His pensive cheek and pondering brow 30 

Did more than he was wont avow. 

III. 

" Let the chamber be cleared" the train disappeared 
" Now call me the chief of the Haram guard"* 

With Giaffir is none but his only son, 

And the Nubian awaiting the sire's award. 



THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 3 

" Haroun when all the crowd that wait 

" Are passed beyond the outer gate, 

" ( Woe to the head whose eye beheld 

" My child Zuleika's face unveiled !) 

" Hence, lead my daughter from her tower 40 

" Her fate is fixed this very hour ; 

" Yet not to her repeat my thought 

" By me alone be duty taught ! " 

" Pacha ! to hear is to obey." 
No more must slave to despot say 
Then to the tower had ta'en his way, 
But here young Selim silence brake, 

First lowly rendering reverence meet ; 
And downcast looked, and gently spake, 

Still standing at the Pacha's feet 50 

For son of Moslem must expire, 

Ere dare to sit before his sire ! 



" Father! for fear that thou should'st chide 
" My sister, or her sable guide 
" Know for the fault, if fault there be, 
" Was mine then fall thy frowns on me ! 

B2 



THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 



" So lovelily the morning shone, 

te That let the old and weary sleep 
" I could not ; and to view alone 

" The fairest scenes of land and deep, 60 

" With none to listen and reply 
" To thoughts with which my heart beat high 
" Were irksome for whatever my mood, 
" In sooth I love not solitude : 
" I on Zuleika's slumber broke, 
" And, as thou knowest that for me 
" Soon turns the Haram's grating key, 
" Before the guardian slaves awoke 
" We to the cypress groves had flown, 
" And made earth, main, and heaven our own ! 70 

u There h'ngered we, beguiled too long 
" With Mejnoun's tale, or Sadi's song ; 3 
" Till I, who heard the deep tambour 4 

" Beat thy Divan's approaching hour 

" To thee and to my duty true, 

" Warn'd by the sound, to greet thee flew : 

" But there Zuleika wanders yet 

" Nay, father, frown not nor forget 



THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 

That none can pierce that secret bower 
But those who watch the women's tower. 



IV. 

* Son of a slave !" the Pacha said 
" From unbelieving mother bred, 

" Vain were a father's hope to see 
" Aught that beseems a man in thee. 
" Thou, when thine arm should bend the bow, 
" And hurl the dart, and curb the steed, 
" Thou Greek in soul, if not in creed, 
" Must pore where babbling waters flow, 
" And watch unfolding roses blow. 
" Would that yon orb, whose matin glow 
" Thy listless eyes so much admire, 
" Would lend thee something of his fire ! 
" Thou, who would'st see this battlement 
" By Christian cannon piecemeal rent 
" Nay, tamely view old Stambol's wall 
" Before the dogs of Moscow fall 
" Nor strike one stroke for life and death 

* Against the curs of Nazareth ! 



THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 

Go let thy less than woman's hand 

" Assume the distaff not the brand. 1 00 

" But, Haroun ! to my daughter speed 

" And hark of thine own head take heed 

" If thus Zuleika oft takes wing 

" Thou see'st yon bow it hath a string !" 

V. 

No sound from Selim's lip was heard, 

At least that met old GiamYs ear, 
But every frown and every word 
Pierced keener than a Christian's sword 

" Son of a slave ! reproached with fear 

" Those gibes had cost another dear. 110 

" Son of a slave ! and who my sire ?" 

Thus held his thoughts their dark career, 
And glances even of more than ire 

Flash forth then faintly disappear. 
Old Giaffir gazed upon his son 

And started for within his eye 
He read how much his wrath had done, 
He saw rebellion there begun 

" Come hither, boy what, no reply ? 



THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 7 

* I mark thee and I know thee too ; 1 20 
" But there be deeds thou dar'st not do : 

" But if thy beard had manlier length, 
" And if thy hand had skill and strength, 
" I'd joy to see thee break a lance, 
" Albeit against my own perchance." 

As sneeriugly these accents fell, 
On Selim's eye he fiercely gazed 

That eye returned him glance for glance, 
And proudly to his sire's was raised, 

Till Giaffir's quailed and shrunk askance 130 

And why he felt, but durst not tell. 
" Much I misdoubt this wayward boy 
" Will one day work me more annoy 
" I never loved him from his birth, 
" And but his arm is little worth, 
** And scarcely in the chace could cope 
" With timid fawn or antelope, 
" Far less would venture into strife 
" Where man contends for fame and life 
" I would not trust that look or tone 140 

* No nor the blood so near my own 



THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 

" That blood he hath not heard no more 



" I'll watch him closer than before 
" He is an Arab s to my sight, 
" Or Christian crouching in the fight. 
" But hark ! I hear Zuleika's voice, 

" Like Houris' hymn it meets mine ear ; 
" She is the offspring of my choice 

" Oh ! more than even her mother dear, 
" With all to hope, and nought to fear, 15O 

" My Peri ! ever welcome here ! 
" Sweet, as the desart-fountain's wave 
" To lips just cooled in time to save 
" Such to my longing sight art thou ; 
" Nor can they waft to Mecca's shrine 
" More thanks for life, than I for thine 

" Who blest thy birth, and bless thee now," 

VI. 

Fair as the first that fell of womankind 
When on that dread yet lovely serpent smiling, 

Whose image then was stamped upon her mind 160 
But once beguiled and ever more beguiling ; 



THE BRIDK OK ABYDOS. 9 

Dazzling as that, oh! too transcendant vision 

To Sorrow's phantom-peopled slumber given, 
When heart meets heart again in dreams Elysian, 

And paints the lost on Earth revived in Heaven 
Soft as the memory of buried love 
Pure as the prayer which Childhood wafts above 
Was she the daughter of that rude old Chief, 
Who met the maid with tears but not of grief. 

Who hath not proved how feebly words essay 170 

To fix one spark of Beauty's heavenly ray? 

Who doth not feel until his failing sight 

Faints into dimness with its own delight 

His changing cheek his sinking heart confess 

The might the majesty of Loveliness ? 

Such was Zuleika such around her shone 

The nameless charms unmarked by her alone 

The light of love the purity of grace 

The mind the Music breathing from her face ! * 

The heart whose softness harmonized the whole 180 

And, oh ! that eye was in itself a Soul ! 






10 THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 

Her graceful arms in meekness bending 

Across her gently-budding breast 
At one kind word those arms extending 

To clasp the neck of him who blest 

His child caressing and carest, 

Zuleika came and Giaffir felt 

His purpose half within him melt; 

Not that against her fancied weal 

His heart though stern could ever feel 190 

Affection chained her to that heart 

Ambition tore the links apart. 

VII. 

" Zuleika child of gentleness ! 

" How dear this very day must tell, 
" When I forget my own distress 

" In losing what I love so well 

" To bid thee with another dwell, 
" Another and a braver man 

" Was never seen in battle's van. 
" We Moslem reck not much of blood 200 

" But yet the line of Carasman 7 
" Unchanged unchangeable hath stood, 



THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 1 1 



" First of the bold Timariot bands 

" That won and well can keep their lands. 

" Enough that he who comes to woo 

" Is kinsman of the Bey Oglou 

" His years need scarce a thought employ 

" I would not have thee wed a boy 

" And thou shalt have a noble dower: 

" And his and my united power 

u Will laugh to scorn the death-firman, 

" Which others tremble but to scan 

" And teach the messenger 8 what fate 

" The bearer of such boon may wait. 

" And now thou know'st thy father's will 

" All that thy sex hath need to know 
" 'Twas mine to teach obedience still, 

" The way to lore, thy lord may shew." 



VIII. 

In silence bowed the virgin's head 

And if her eye was filled with tears 220 

That stifled feeling dare not shed, 

And changed her cheek from pale to red, 



THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 

And red to pale, as through her ears 

Those -winged words like arrows sped 
What could such be but maiden fears ? 
So bright the tear in Beauty's eye 
Love half regrets to kiss it dry 
So sweet the blush of Bashfulness, 
Even Pity scarce can wish it less ! 

Whate'er it was the sire forgot 230 

Or if remembered, marked it not- 
Thrice clapped his hands, and called his steed, 
Resigned his gem-adorn'd Chibouque, 10 
And mounting featly for the mead, 
With Maugrabee " and Mamaluke 
His way amid his Delis took, " 
To witness many an active deed 
With sabre keen or blunt jereed. 
The Kislar only and his Moors 
Watch well the Haram's massy doors. 240 

IX. 

His head was leant upon his hand, 

His eye looked o'er the dark blue water, 



THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 13 

That swiftly glides and gently swells 
Between the winding Dardanelles; 
But yet he saw nor sea nor strand, 
Nor even his Pacha's turbaned band 

Mix in the game of mimic slaughter ; 
Careering cleave the folded felt 13 
With sabre stroke right sharply dealt 
Nor marked the javelin-darting crowd, 250 

Nor heard their Ollahs 14 wild and loud 

He thought but of old Giaffir's daughter. 



I 



No word from Selim's bosom broke 
One sigh Zuleika's thought bespoke 
Still gazed he through the lattice grate, 
Pale mute and mournfully sedate. 
To him Zuleika's eye was turned, 
But little from his aspect learned ; 
Equal her grief yet not the same, 
Her heart confessed a gentler flame- 
But yet that heart alarmed or weak, 
She knew not why, forbade to speak 






14 THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 

Yet speak she must but when essay 
" How strange he thus should turn away ! 
" Not thus we e'er before have met, 
" Not thus shall be our parting yet." 
Thrice paced she slowly through the room, 
And watched his eye it still was fixed 
She snatched the urn wherein was mixed 
, The Persian Atar-gul's' 5 perfume, 270 

And sprinkled all it's odours o'er 
The pictured roof 16 and marble floor 
The dropsy that through his glittering vest 
The playful girl's appeal addrest, 
Unheeded o'er his bosom flew, 
As if that breast were marble too 
" What sullen yet ? it must not be 
* Oh ! gentle Selim, this from thee !" 
She saw in curious order set 

The fairest flowers of Eastern land 280 

" He loved them once may touch them yet, 
" If offered by Zuleika's hand." 
The childish thought was hardly breathed 
Before the Rose was pluck'd and wreathed 



THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 



15 



The next fond moment saw her seat 

Her fairy form at Selim's feet 

" This rose to calm my brother's cares 

" A message from the Bulbul 17 bears; 

" It says to-night he will prolong, 

" For Selim's ear his sweetest song 290 

" And though his note is somewhat sad, 

" He'll try for once a strain more glad, 

" With some faint hope his altered lay 

" May sing these gloomy thoughts away. 

XL 

" What not receive my foolish flower ? 

" Nay then I am indeed unblest : 

" On me can thus thy forehead lower ? 

" And know'st thou not who loves thee best ? 

" Oh, Setim dear ! Oh, more than dearest ! 

" Say, is it I thou hat'st or fearest? 300 

" Come, lay thy head upon my breast, 

" And I will kiss thee into rest, 

" Since words of mine and songs must fail, 

" Even from my fabled nightingale. 






16 THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 

<f 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 310 

" Perhaps 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 severed from thy side, 

" Where were thy friend and who my guide ? 320 

4e Years have not seen Time shall not see 

" The hour that tears my soul from thee 

" Even Azrael l8 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!" 



THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 



17 



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 330 

With thoughts that burn in rays that melt. 

As the stream late concealed 

By the fringe of its willows 
When it rushes revealed 

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 warhorse at the trumpet's sound, SIO 

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, displayed, 
And all, before repressed, betrayed. 



18 THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 

" 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 vow 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 clusters round thy forehead fair, 

" For all the treasures buried far 

" Within the caves of Istakar. l9 

" This morning clouds upon me lowered, 

" Reproaches on my head were showered, 360 

" And Giaffir almost 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 shew, 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 ; 



THK KRIDK OF ABYDOS. 






" But let our plighted secret vow 

" Be only known to us as now. 

" I know the wretch who dare* demand 

" From Giaftir thy reluctant hand ; 

" More ill-got wealth, a meaner soul 

" Holds not a Musselini's 20 control ; 

" Was he not bred in Egripo ? " 

" 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 partizans 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, 

c2 



370 



380 



THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 

" To see thee, hear thee, near thee stay, 

" And hate the night I know not why, 3!*0 

" 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, Alia ! 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 soothe thy sickness, watch thy health, 400 

(t Partake, but never \?aste 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 aspii 
" More can I do ? or thou require ? 
" But, Selim, thou must answer why 
" We need so much of mystery ? 



THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 2) 

" The cause I cannot dream nor tell, 410 

" 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 4-:0 

" 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 cherished thoughts with life begun, 

" 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 strangers eyes 
" Our law, our creed, our God denies ; 430 

" Nor shall one wandering thought of mine 
" At such, our Prophet's will, repine : 



22 THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS, 

" No happier made by that decree, 

" He left me all in leaving thee. 

" Deep were my anguish, thus compelled 

" To wed with one I ne'er beheld 

" This wherefore should I not reveal ? 

" Why wilt thoti urge me to conceal ? 

" I know the Pacha's haughty mood 

" To thee hath never boded good ; 440 

" 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 ; 450 

" I tremble now to meet his eye 
" Say, Selim, can'st thou tell me why ?" 



THE BRIDK OF ABYDOS. 

XIV. 

" Zuleika to thy tower's retreat 

" Betake thee Giaffir I can greet; 

" And now with him t fain must prate 

" Of firmans, imposts, levies, state : 

" There's fearful news from Danube's banks, 

" Our Vizier nobly thins his ranks, 

" For which the Giour may give him thanks ! 

" Our Sultan hath a shorter way 46() 

" Such costly triumph to repay. 

" But, mark me, when the twilight drum 

" Hath warned 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 470 

" Which some have felt, and more may feel. 
" Then shalt thou learn of Selim more 
" Than thou hast heard or thought before; 



THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 

" Trust me, Zuleika fear not me ! 
" Thou kuow'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. 480 

" To night, Zuleika, thou shalt hear 
" My tale, my purpose, and my fear 
" I am not, love! what I appear." 



END OF CANTO I. 



THE 



BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 



CANTO II. 



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 ; 



10 



26 THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 

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 20 

Rolls darkly heaving to the main; 
And Night's descending shadows hide 

That field with blood bedew'd in vain; 
The desart 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 30 

Minstrel ! with thee to muse, to mourn 
To trace again those fields of yoi 



THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 



'27 



Believing every hillock green 

Contains no fabled hero's ashes 
And that around the undoubted scene 

Thine own " broad Hellespont" 23 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 * 4 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 wan beneath. 



50 



28 THE BRIDE OF ABYDQS, 

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

y. 

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; 60 

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, 10 

Could smooth this life, and win the next; 



THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 

And by her Comboloio 27 lies 

A Koran of illumin'd dyes ; 

And many a bright emblazoned rhyme 

By Persian scribes redeemed 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 5 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 . 



29 



f;o 



THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 

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 maid 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. 

The} 7 reach'd at length a grotto, hewn 100 

By nature, but enlarged by art, 
Where oft her lute she wont to tune, 

And oft her Koran conned apart ; 
And oft in youthful reverie 
She dream'd what Paradise might be- 
Where woman's parted soul shall go 
Her Prophet had disdain'd to show ; 
But Selim's mansion was secure, 
Nor deem'd she, could he long endure 




THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 

His bower in other worlds of bliss, 
Without her most beloved in this ! 
Oh ! who so dear with him could dwell '. 
What Houri soothe him half so well ? 



31 



110 



VIII. 

Since last she visited the spot 

Some change seem'd wrought within the grot: 

It might be only that the night 

Disguis'd things seen by better light 

That brazen lamp but dimly threw 

A ray of no celestial hue; 

But in a nook within the cell 1 20 

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 Mood 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 ?" 1 30 



32 THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 

IX. 

His robe of pride was thrown aside, 
His brow no high-crown'd turban bore, 

But in its stead a shawl of red, 

Wreath'd lightly round, his temples wore : 

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 140 

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 Galionge.* s 150 



THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 33 

X. 

" I said I was not what I seemed 

" And now thou seest my words were true; 

" I have a tale thou hast not dreamed, 
" 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. 160 

" 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 !" 

XL 

" Oh ! not my brother! yet unsay 


" God ! am I left alone on earth F 

" To mourn I dare not curse the day 
" That saw my solitary birth ! 

D 



34 THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 

" 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 hast cause for vengeance See ! 
" My breast is offered 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 seemed thy foe; 
" And I, alas ! am Giaffir's child, 
** For whom thou wert contemned reviled- 
" If not thy sister would st 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 linked with mine ; 

" I swear it by our Prophet's shrine, 

" And be that thought thy sorrow's balm. 



THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 



35 



" So may the Koran* 9 verse displayed 

" Upon its steel direct my blade, 190 

" 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 widened not divided - 

" Although thy Sire's my deadliest foe. 
" My father was to Giaffir all 

" That Selim late was deemed to thee ; 
" That brother wrought a brother's fall, 

" But spared at least, my infancy 200 

" And lulled me with a vain deceit 
" That yet a like return may meet. 
" He reared 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. 10 

D 2 



36 THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 

" But first beloved Zuleika ! hear 

" How Giaffir wrought this deed of fear. 

XIII. 

" How first their strife to rancour grew 

" If love or envy made them foes 
" It matters little if I knew ; 
*' In fiery spirits, slights though few 

" And thoughtless will disturb repose : 
" In war Abdallah's arm was strong, 
" Remembered yet in Bosniac song, 
" And PaswanV 1 rebel hordes attest 220 

" How little love they bore such guest. 
" His death is all I need relate, 
The stem effect of Giaffir's hate ; 
" And how my birth disclosed to me, 
" Whatever 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 
a Our Pachas rallied round the state j 



THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 37 

" Nor last nor least in high command 230 

" Each brother led a separate band ; 

" They gave their horsetails 31 to the wind, 

" And mustering in Sophia's plain 
" Their tents were pitched their post assigned 

" To one, alas ! assigned in vain ! 
" What need of words ? the deadly bowl, 

u By GiafhVs order drugged and given, 
" With venom subtle as his soul, 

" Dismissed Abdallah's hence to heave.n. 
" Reclined and feverish in the bath, 240 

" He, when the hunter's sport was up, 
" But little deemed a brother's wrath 

" To quench his thirst had such a cup. 
" The bowl a bribed attendant bore, 
" He drank one draught 33 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 suppressed though ne'er subdued 



38 THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 

" Abdallah's Pachalick was gained ' 250 

" (Thou know'st not what in our Divan 
" Can wealth procure for worse than man) : 

" Abdallah's honours were obtained 

" By him a brother's murder stained ; 

" Tis true the purchase nearly drained 

" 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, .260 

" Why thus with me his palace shared, 

" I know not. Shame regret remorsfi 

" 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. 



Till- HRIDK OF ABYDOS. 



39 



XVI. 

u Within thy father's house are foes 270 

" Not all who break his bread are true ; 
" To these should I my birth disclose, 

" His days his very hours were few : 
" They only want a heart to lead, 
<{ A hand to point them to the deed. 
u But Ilaroun 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 : 280 

" 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 betrayed 
" Proud Giaffir in high triumph sate, 
" He led me Uelpless to his gate, 

" And not in vain it seems essayed 

" To save the life for which lie prayed. 



40 THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS 

" The knowledge of my birth secured 290 

" From all and each but most from me ; 
" Thus Giaffir's safety was ensured, 

" 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. 300 

" Such still to guilt just Alia 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 Galiongee 
" To whom thy plighted vow is sworn, 810 



THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 



" Is leader of those pirate hordes, 

" Whose laws and lives are on their swords ; 
" To hear whose desolating tale 
" Would make thy waning cheek more pale ; 
" Those arms thou see'st my band have brought, 
" Tbe hands that wield are not remote ; 
" This cup too for the rugged knaves 

" Is filled once quaffed, they ne'er repine, 
" Our Prophet might forgive the slaves, 

" They're only infidels in wine. 320 



XVIII. 

What could I be ? Proscribed at home, 

And taunted to a wish to roam ; 

And listless left for GiafnYs fear 

Denied the courser and the spear; 

Though oft Oh, Mahomet ! how oft 

In full Divan the despot scoffed, 

As if my weak unwilling hand 

Refused the bridle or the brand : 

He ever went to war alone, 

And pent me here untried unknown 830 






4-2 THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 

" To Haroun's care with women left, 

" By hope unblest of fame bereft. 

" While thou whose softness long endeared, 

" Though it unmanned me, still had cheered 

" 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 ; 340 

" On promise to return before 
" The day when Giaffir's charge was o'er. 
" 'Tis vain my tongue can not impart 
" My almost drunkenness of heart, 
" When first this liberated eye 
" Surveyed 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 ! 350 

" E'en for thy presence ceased to pine 
" The World nay Heaven itself was mine J 



TIIK BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 



XIX. 

" The shallop of a trusty Moor 

" Conveyed me from this idle shore ; 

" I longed to see the isles that gem 

* Old Ocean's purple diadem : 

" I sought by turns, and saw them all, 3 * 

t But when and where I joined the crew, 
" With whom I'm pledged to rise or fall, 

" When all that we design to do 
" Is done 'twill then be time more meet 
" To tell thee, when the tale's complete. 

XX. 

" Tis true they are a lawless brood, 

" But rough in form, nor mild in mood ; 

u And every creed, and every race, 

" With them hath found may find a place j 

" But open speech, and ready hand, 

" Obedience to their chief's command ; 

" A soul for every enterprize, 

" 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. 



360 



370 



44 THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 

" And some and I have studied all 

" Distinguish'd from the vulgar rank, 
" But chiefly to my council call 

" The wisdom of the cautious Frank : 
" And some to higher thoughts aspire, . 

" The last of Lambro's 3S patriots there 380 

" 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. 
" Ay! let me like the ocean-Patriarch 37 roam, 
" Or only know on land the Tartar's home, * 
" My tent on shore my galley on the sea 390 

" Are more than cities and Serais to me ; 
te Borne by my steed, or wafted by my sail, 
** Across the desart, or before the gale, 
" Bound where thou wilt, my barb ! or glide my prow, 
" 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 ! 



THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 



45 



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, 400 

And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray ! 

Blest as the Muezzin's strain from Mecca's wall 

To pilgrims 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 * in its earliest hour. 

A thousand swords with Selim's heart and hand 410 

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 resigned 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 frown, or falser friends betray. 

How dear the dream ! in darkest hours of ill, 420 

Should all be changed, to find thee faithful still! 



16 THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 

" Be but thy soul, like Selim's, firmly shown 

" To thee, be Selim's tender as thine own! 

" To soothe 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 assigned 

" By fatal Nature to man's warring kind, 

" Mark ! where his carnage and his conquests cease 430 

" 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 

" When cities cage us in a social home : 

" There even thy soul might err how oft the heart 

et Corruption shakes which Peril could not part! 

" And woman, more than man, when death or woe 440 

" 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 

u No more remains to win, and much to fear 



THEBRIDK OF ABVDOS. 



47 



\ rs, h-ar ! the doubt, the dread of losing thee, 
' By Oman's power, and Giaflir's stem decree r 
" Tliat dread shall vanish with the favouring gale, 
' Which Love to night hath promised to my sail 
4< No danger daunts the pair his smile hath blest, 450 

" Their steps still roving, but their hearts at rest; 

With thee all toils are sweet each clime hath charm.- 
" 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 
" No sigh for safety, but a prayer for thee ! 
" The war of elements no fears impart 
" To Love, whose deadliest bane is human Art 
" There lie the only rocks our course can check, 4(i(> 

" Here moments menace there are years of wreck ! 
" But hence ye thoughts ! that rise in Horror's shape 
" This hour bestows or ever bars escape 
" Few words remain of mine my tale to close 
" Of thine but one to waft us from our foes : 
" Yea foes to me will GiaffiYs hate decline? 
" And is not Osman who would part us thine ? 



48 THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 

XXL 

" His head and faith from doubt and death 

" Returned in time my guard to save ; 

" Few heard none told that o'er the wave 470 
" From isle to isle I roved the while ; 
" And since, though parted from my band 
" Too seldom now I leave the land ; 
" No deed they've done nor deed shall do, 
" Ere I have heard and doomed it too ; 
" I form the plan, decree the spoil, 
" Tis fit I oftener share the toil. 
fe But now too long I've held thine ear, 
" Time presses floats my bark and here 
" We leave behind but hate and fear. 480 

" To-morrow Osman with his train 
" Arrives to-night must break thy chain ; 
" And would'st thou save that haughty Bey 

" Perchance his life who gave thee thine 
" With me this hour away away 

" But yet, though thou art plighted mine, 
" Would'st thou recal thy willing vow, 
" Appalled by truths imparted now 



THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 

u Here rest I not to see thee wed, 
" But be that peril on my head !" 



49 



490 



XXII. 

Zuleika mute and motionless, 
Stood like that statue of distress 
When, her last hope for ever gone, 
The mother hardened into stone ; 
All in the maid that eye could see 
Was but a younger Niobe ! 
But ere her lip, or even her eye, 
Essayed to speak, or look reply- 
Beneath the garden's wicket porch 
Far flashed on high a blazing torch ! 500 

Another and another and another 
" Oh ! fly no more yet now my more than brother !" 
Far w ide through every thicket spread 
The fearful lights are gleaming red ; 
Nor these alone for each right hand 
Is ready with a sheathless brand : 
They part, pursue, return, and wheel 
With searching flambeau, shining steel ; 



,50 THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 

And last of all his sabre waving, 

Stern Giaffir in his fury raving, 510 

And now almost they t uch the cave 

Oh ! must that grot be Seiirn's grave ? 

XXHL 

Dauntless he stood " 'Tis come soon past* 
" One kiss, Zuleika 'tis my last ; 

" But yet my band not far from shore 
" May hear this signal see the Hash- 
" Yet now too few the attempt were rash 

" !No matter yet one effort more." 
Forth to the cavern mouth he stept, 

His pistol's echo rang on high: 520 

Zuleika started not, nor wept, 

Despair benumbed her breast and eye ! 
" They hear me not, or if they ply 
<( Their oars, 'tis but to see me die ; 
" That sound hath drawn my foes more nigh. 
" Then forth my father's scimitar, 
" Thou ne'er hast seen bess equal war ! 



THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 



' Farewell, Zuleika !- Sweet ! retire 
" Yet stay within here linger safe, 
"At thee his rage will only chafe. 
Stir not lest even to thee perchance 
Some erring blade or ball should glance : 
Fear'st thou for him ? may I expire 
If in this strife I seek thy sire! 
No -though by him that poison poured 
No though again he call me coward! 
But tamely shall I meet their steel ? 
No as each crest save his may feelj 



I 



XXIV. 

One bound he made, and gained the sand 

Already at his feet hath sunk 
The foremost of the prying band 

A gasping head, a quivering trunk ; 
Another falls but round him close 
A swarming circle of his foes : 
From right to left his path he cleft, 

And almost met the meeting wave ; 
His boat appears not five oars' length 
His comrades strain with desperate strength 



530 



540 



52 THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 

Oh ! are they yet in time to save ? 

His feet the foremost breakers lave ; 550 

His band are plunging in the bay, 
Their sabres glitter through the spray; 
Wet wild unwearied to the strand 
They struggle now they touch the land ! 
They come 'tis but to add to slaughter 
His heart's best blood is on the water ! 

XXV. 

Escaped from shot unharmed by steel, 

Or scarcely grazed it's force to feel 

Had Selim won betrayed beset 

To where the strand and billows met 560 

There as his last step left the land, 

And the last death-blow dealt his hand 

Ah ! wherefore did he turn to look 

For her his eye but sought in vain ? 
That pause that fatal gaze he took 

Hath doomed his death or fixed his chain 
Sad proof in peril and in pain 
How late will Lover's hope remain ! 
His back was to the dashing spray 
Behind but close his comrades lay 570 



THE BRIDE OF A BY DOS. 53 

When at the instant, hissed the ball, 

" So may the foes of Giaffir fall !" 

Whose voice is heard ? whose carbine rang f 

Whose bullet through the night-air sang ? 

Too nearly deadly aimed to err 

Tis thine Abdallalf s Murderer ! 

The father slowly rued thy hate, 

The son hath found a quicker fate 

Fast from his breast the blood is bubbling, 

The whiteness of the sea-foam troubling, 53() 

If aught his lips essayed to groan 

The rushing billows choaked the tone ! 

xxvr. 

Morn slowly rolls the clouds away 

Few trophies of the fight are there 
The shouts that shook the midnight-bay 
Are silent but some signs of fray 

That strand of strife may bear 
And fragments of each shivered brand 
Steps stamped and dashed into the sand 
The print of many a struggling hand 590 

May there be marked nor far remote 
A broken torch an oarless boat 
And tangled on the weeds that heap 



54 THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 

The beach where shelving to the deep 
There lies a white Capote ! 
'Tis rent in twain one dark-red stain 
The wave yet ripples o'er in vain 

But where is he who wore ? 
Ye ! who would o'er his relics weep 
Go seek them where the surges sweep. 60O 

Their burthen round Sigaeum's steep 

And cast on Lemnos' shore : 
The sea-birds shriek above the prey, 
O'er which their hungry beaks delay 
As shaken on his restless pillow, 
His head heaves with the heaving billow 
That hand whose motion is not life 
Yet feebly seems to menace strife 
Flung by the tossing tide on high, 

Then levelled with the wave 6 1 

What recks it ? though that corse shall lie 

Within a living grave? 
The bird that tears that prostrate form 
Hath only robbed the meaner worm ! 
The only heart the only eye 
Had bled or wept to see him die, 



THK BKIDE OF ABYDOS. 



Had seen those scattered limbs composed, 
And mourned above his turban-stone 40 

That heart hath burst that eye was closed- 
Yea closed before his own ! 



620 



XXVII. 

By Helle's stream there is a voice of wail ! 
And woman's eye is wet man's cheek is pale 
Zuleika ! last of Giaffir's race, 

Thy destin'd lord is come too late 
He sees not ne'er shall see thy face I 

Can he not hear 
The loud Wul-wulleh 41 warn his distant ear ? 

Thy handmaids weeping at the gate, 
The Koran-chaunters of the hymn of fate 

The silent slaves with folded arms that wait, 
Sighs in the hall and shrieks upon the gale, 

Tell him thy tale! 
Thou didst not view thy Selim fall ! 

That fearful moment when he left the cave 

Thy heart grew chill 
He was thy hope thy joy thy love thine all- 



630 



56 THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 



And that last thought on him thou could'st not save 

Sufficed to kill 
Burst forth in one wild cry and all was still 

Peace to thy broken heart and virgin grave ! 640 
Ah ! happy ! but of life to lose the worst, 
That grief though deep though fatal was thy first ! 
Thrice happy ! ne'er to feel nor fear the force 
Of absence shame pride hate revenge remorse ! 
And, oh! that pang where more than Madness lies 
The Worm that will not sleep and never dies 
Thought of the gloomy day and ghastly night, 
That dreads the darkness, and yet loathes the light 
That winds around, and tears the quiv'ring heart 
Ah! wherefore not consume it and depart! 65O 

Woe to thee, rash and unrelenting chief ! 

Vainly thou heap'st the dust upon thy head - 
Vainly the sackcloth o'er thy limbs dost spread : 
By that same hand Abdallah Selim bled 
Now let it tear thy beard in idle grief 
Thy pride of heart thy bride for Osman's bed 



THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 



57 



She whom thy sultan had but seen to wed 

Thy Daughter's dead! 

Hope of thine age thy twilight's lonely beam 
The Star hath set that shone on Helle's stream 660 

What quench'd its ray? the blood that thou hast shed! 

Hark to the hurried question of Despair ! 

" Where is my child?" an Echo answers " Where?" 4 * 

XXVIII. 

Within the place of thousand tombs 

That shine beneath, while dark above 
The sad but living cypress glooms 

And withers not, though branch and leaf 
Are stamped with an eternal grief ; 

Like early unrequited Love ! 
One spot exists which ever blooms, 670 

Ev'n in that deadly grove. 
A single rose is shedding there 

It's lonely lustre, meek and pale, 
It looks as planted by Despair 

So white so faint the slightest gale 
Might whirl the leaves on high ; 



58 THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 

And yet, though storms and blight assail, 
And hands more rude than wintry sky 

May wring it from the stem in vain 
To-morrow sees it bloom again ! 680 

The stalk some spirit gently rears, 
And waters with celestial tears. 

For well may maids of Helle deem 
That this can be no earthly flower, 

Which mocks the tempest's withering hour 

And buds unsheltered by a bower, 

Nor droops though spring refuse her shower 

Nor woos the summer beam. 
To it the livelong night there sings 

A bird unseen but not remote 690 

Invisible his airy wings, 
But soft as harp that Houri strings 

His long entrancing note! 
It were the Bulbul but his throat, 

Though mournful, pours not such a strain ; 
For they who listen cannot leave 
The spot, but linger there and grieve 

As if they loved in vain ! 



THE BRIDE Otf ABYDOS. 



59 



And yet so sweet the tears they shed, 

'Tis sorrow so unmixed with dread, 700 

They scarce can bear the morn to break 
That melancholy spell, 

And longer yet would weep and wake, 
He sings so wild and well ! 

But when the day-blush bursts from high- 
Expires that magic melody. 

And some have been who could believe, 

(So fondly youthful dreams deceive, 
Yet harsh be they that blame,) 

That note so piercing and profound 710 

Will shape and syllable its sound 
Into Zuleika's name. 4J 

'Tis from her cypress' summit heard, 

That melts in air the liquid word 

'Tis from her lowly virgin earth 

That white rose takes its tender birth. 

There late was laid a marble stone, 

Eve saw it placed the Morrow gone ! 

Jt was no mortal arm tfcat bore 

That deep-fixed pillar to the shore ; 720 



30 THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. 

For there, as Helle's legends tell, 
Next morn 'twas found where Selim fell- 
Lashed by the tumbling tide, whose wave 
Denied his bones a holier grave 
And there by night, reclin'd, 'tis said, 
Is seen a ghastly turban'd head 
And hence extended by the billow, 
'Tis named the " Pirate-phantom's pillow !" 
Where first it lay that mourning flower 
Hath flourished flourisheth this hour 730 

Alone and dewy coldly pure and pale 
As weeping Beauty's cheek at Sorrow's tale ! 



NOTES. 



Note l, page 1, line 8. 

Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gul in her bloom. 
" Gul," the rose. 

Note 2, page 2, line 2. 

Can he smile on such deeds as his children have done ? 
* Souls made of fire, and children of the Sun, 
" With whom Revenge is Virtue." 

YOUNG'S REVENGE. 



Note 3, page 4, line 16. 
With MeJHOun's tale, or Sadi's song. 
Mejnoun and Leila, the Romeo and Juliet of the East. 
the moral poet of Persia. 



Sadi, 



Note 4, page 4-, line 17. 
Till /, who heard the deep tambour. 

Tambour, Turkish drum, which sounds at sunrise, noon, and 
twilight. 

Note 5, page 8, line 3. 
He is an Arab to my sight. 

The Turks abhor the Arabs (who return the compliment a 
hundred fold) even more than they hate the Christians. 



6'2 NOTES. 

Note 6, page 9, line 18. 
The mind the Music breathing from her face. 

This expression has met with objections. I will not refer to 
" Him who hath not Music in his soul," but merely request the 
reader to recollect, for ten seconds, the features of the woman 
whom he believes to be the most beautiful ; and if he then does 
not comprehend fully what is feebly expressed in the above line, 
I shall be sorry for us both. For an eloquent passage in the 
latest work of the first female writer of this, perhaps, of any age, 
on the analogy (and the immediate comparison excited by that 
analogy) between " painting and music," see vol. iii. cap. 10. DE 
L'ALLEMAGNE. And is not this connexion still stronger with 
the original than the copy ? With the colouring of Nature than of 
Art ? After all, this is rather to be felt than described ; still I 
think there are some who will understand it, at least they would 
have done had they beheld the countenance whose speaking har- 
mony suggested the idea ; for this passage is not drawn from 
imagination but memory, that mirror which Affliction dashes to the 
earth, and looking down upon the fragments, only beholds the re- 
flection multiplied ! 



Note /, page 10, line 20. 
Eat yet the line of Carasman. 



Carasman Oglou, or Kara Osman Oglou, is the principal land- 
holder in Turkey, he governs Magnesia ; those, who by a kind 
of feudal tenure, possess land on condition of service, are called 
Timariots: they serve as Spahis, according to the extent of terri- 
tory, and bring a certain number into the field, generally cavalry. 



NOTES. 



63 



Note 8, page 11, line U. 
And teach the messenger what fate. 

When a Pacha is sufficiently strong to resist, the single messen- 
ger, who is always the first bearer of the order for his death, is 
strangled instead, and sometimes five or six, one after the other, 
on the same errand, by command of the refractory patient ; if, on 
tlv contrary, he is weak or loyal, he bows, kisses the Sultan's re- 
spectable signature, and is bowstrung with great complacency. 
In 1810, several of these presents were exhibited in the niche of 
the Seraglio gate ; among others, the head of the Pacha of Bag- 
dat, a brave young man, cut oft' by treachery, after a desperate 
resistance. 

Note 9, page 12, line 10. 
Thrice clapped his hands, and called his steed. 

Clapping of the hands calls the servants. The Turks hate a 
superfluous expenditure of voice, and they have no bells. 

Note 10, page 12, line 11. 
Resigned his gem-adorned Chibouque. 

Chibouque, the Turkish pipe, of which the amber mouth-piece, 
and sometimes the ball which contains the leaf, is adorned with 
precious stones, if in possession of the wealthier orders. 

Note 11, page 12, line 13. 
With Maugrabee and Mamaluke. 
Maugrabee, Moorish mercenaries. 



64 NOTES. 

Note 12, page 12, line 14. 
His way amid his Delis took. 

Deli, bravos who form the forlorn hope of the cavalry, and 
al ways begin the action. 

Note 13, page 13, line 6. 
Careering cleave the folded felt. 

A twisted fold ofjelt is used for scimitar practice by the Turks, 
and few but Mussulman arms can cut through it at a single stroke: 
sometimes a tough turban is used for the same purpose. The 
jerreed is a game of blunt javelins, animated and graceful. 

Note 14, page 13, line 9. 
Nor heard their Ollahs zvild and loud. 
" Ollahs," Alia il Allah, the " Leilies," as the Spanish poets 
call them, the sound is Ollah ; a cry of which the Turks, for a si- 
lent people, are somewhat profuse, particularly during the jerreed, 
or in the chase, but mostly in battle. Their animation in the 
field, and gravity in the chamber, with their pipes and comboloios, 
form an amusing contrast. 

Note 15, page 14, line 8. 
The Persian Jttar-guCs perfume. 
" Atar-gul," ottar of roses. The Persian is the finest. 

Note 16, page 14, line 10. 
The pictured roof and marble floor. 

The ceiling and wainscots, or rather walls, of the Mussulman 
apartments are generally painted, in great houses, with one eter- 



NOTES. 



O.v 



nal and highly coloured view of Constantinople, wherein the 
principal feature is a noble contempt of perspective ; below, 
arms, scimitars, &c. are in general fancifully and not inelegantly 
disposed. 

Note 17, page 15, line 4. 
A message from the Bulbul bears. 

It has been much doubted whether the notes of this " Lover 
of the rose" are sad or merry ; and Mr. Fox's remarks on the sub- 
ject have provoked some learned controversy as to the opinions 
of the ancients on the subject. I dare not venture a conjecture 
on the point, though a little inclined to the " errare mallem," &c. 
if Mr. Fox toas mistaken. 

Note 18, page 1 6, line 19. 
Even Azraelfrom his deadly quiver. 
* Azrael" the angel of death. 

Note 19, page 18, line 12. 
Within the caves of Istakar. 

The treasures of the Preadamite Sultans. See D'HERBELOT, 
article Istakar. 

Note 20, page 19, line 6. 
Holds not a Musselim's control. 

Musselim, a governor, the next ? in rank after a Pacha; a 
Waywode is the third ; and then come the Agas. 



66 NOTES. 

Note 21, page 19, line 7. 
Was he not bred in Egripo. 

Egripo the Negropont. According to the proverb, the Turks 
of Egripo, the Jews of Salonica, and the Greeks of Athens, are 
the worst of their respective races. 

Note 22, page 22, line 1?. 
Ah ! yonder see the Tchocadar. 

" Tchocadar" one of the attendants who precedes a man of 
authority, 

Note 23, page 27, line 4. 
Thine own " broad Hellespont" still dashes. 

The wrangling about this epithet, " the broad Hellespont" or 
the " boundless Hellespont," whether it means one or the other, 
or what it means at all, has been beyond all possibility of detail. 
I have even heard it disputed on the spot ; and not foreseeing 
a speedy conclusion to the controversy, amused myself with 
swimming across it in the mean time, and probably may again, 
before the point is settled. Indeed, the question as to the truth 
of " the tale of Troy divine" still continues, much of it resting 
upon the talismanic word " arteif>o$:" probably Homer had 
the same notion of distance that a coquette has of time, and 
when he talks of boundless, means half a mile ; as the latter, by 
a like figure, when she says eternal attachment, simply specifies 
three weeks. 



NOTES. 67 

Note 24, page 27, line 15. 
Which Amman's son ran proudly round. 
Before his Persian invasion, and crowned the altar with laurel, 
&c. He was afterwards imitated by Caracalla in his race. It is 
believed that the last also poisoned a friend, named Festus, for 
the sake of new Patroclan games. I have seen the sheep feeding 
on the tombs of ^Esietes and Antilochus ; the first is in the centre 
wf the plain. 

Note 25, page 28, line 14. 
O'er K'/iich her fairy fingers ran. 

When rubbed, the amber is susceptible of a perfume, which is 
slight but not disagreeable. 

Note 26, page 28, line 17. 
Her mother's sainted amulet* 

The belief in amulets engraved on gems, or enclosed in gold 
boxes, containing scraps from the Koran, worn round the neck, 
wrist, or arm, is still universal in the East. The Koorsee (throne) 
verse in the second cap. of the Koran describes the attributes 
of the Most High, and is engraved in this manner, and worn by 
the pious, as the most esteemed and sublime of all sentences. 

Note 27, page 29, line 1 . 
And by her Comboloio lies. 
" Comboloio" a Turkish rosary. The MSS. particularly 



68 NOTES. 

those of the Persians, are richly adorned and illuminated. The 
Greek females are kept in utter ignorance ; but many of the 
Turkish girls are highly accomplished, though not actually qua- 
lified for a Christian coterie ; perhaps some of our own " blues" 
might not be the worse for bleaching. 

Note 28, page 32, line 20. 
In him was some young Galiongee. 

" Galiongee" or Galiongi, a sailor, that is, a Turkish sailor^; 
the Greeks navigate, the Turks work the guns. Their dress is 
picturesque ; and I have seen the Capitan Pacha more than once 
wearing it as a kind of incog. Their legs, however, are generally 
naked. The buskins described in the text as sheathed behind 
with silver, are those of an Arnaut robber, who was my host (he 
had quitted the profession ) , at his Pyrgo, near Gastouni in the 
Morea; they were plated in scales one over the other, like the 
back of an armadillo. 

Note 29, page 35, line 1. 
So may the Koran verse displayed. 

The characters on all Turkish scimitars contain sometimes the 
name of the place of their manufacture, but more generally a 
text from theKoran, in letters of gold. Amongst those in my pos- 
session is one with a blade of singular construction ; it is very 
broad, and the edge notched into serpentine curves like the ripple 
of water, or the wavering of flame. I asked the Armenian who 
sold it, what possible use such a figure could add: he said, in 
Italian, that he did not know ; but the Mussulmans had an idea 



N< )'!}> n<J 

that those of this form gave a severer wound; and liked it be- 
cause it was " piu feroce." I did not much admire the reason, 
but bought it for its peculiarity. 

Note 30, page 35, line \6. 
But like the nephew of a Cain. 

It is to be observed, that every allusion to any thing or per- 
sonage in the Old Testament, such as the Ark, or Cain, is equally 
the privilege of Mussulman and Jew; indeed the former profess 
to be much better acquainted with the lives, true and fabulous, 
of the patriarchs, than is warranted by our own Sacred writ, 
and not content with Adam, they have a biography of Pre- 
Adamites. Solomon is the monarch of all necromancy, and 
Moses a prophet inferior only to Christ and Mahomet. Zuleika 
is the Persian name of Potiphar's wife, and her amour with 
Joseph constitutes one of the finest poems in their language. It 
is therefore no violation of costume to put the names of Cain, 
or Noah, into the mouth of a Moslem. 

Note 31, page 36, line 10. 
And Paszcan's rebel hordes attest. 

Paswan Oglou, the rebel of Widin, who for the last year* of 
his life set the whole power of the Porte at defiance. 

Note 32, page 37, line 3. 
They gave their horsetails to the rev 
Horsetail, the standard of u Pacha. 



70 NOTES. 

Note 33, page 37, line 16. 
He drank one draught nor needed more! 

Giaffir, Pacha of Argyro Castro, or Scutari, I am not sure 
which, was actually taken off by the Albanian Ali, in the manner 
described in the text. Ali Pacha, while I was in the country, 
married the daughter of his victim, some years after the event 
had taken place at a bath in Sophia, or Adrianople. The poison 
was mixed in the cup of coffee, which is presented before the 
sherbet by the bath-keeper, after dressing. 

Note 34, page 43, line 5. 
/ sought by turns, and sazv them all. 

The Turkish notions of almost all islands are confined to the 
Archipelago, the sea alluded to. 

Note 35, page 44, line 6. 
The last of Lambro's patriots there. 

Lambro Canzani, a Greek, famous for his efforts in 1789 90 
for the independence of his country; abandoned by the Russians 
he became a pirate, and the Archipelago was the scene of his en- 
terprizes. He is said to be still alive at Petersburg. He and Riga 
are the two most celebrated of the Greek revolutionists. 

Note 3(3, page 44, line 10. 
To snatch the Rayahs from their fate. 

" Rayahs," all who pay the capitation tax, called the " Ha- 
ratch." 



NOTKS. 



71 



Note 37, page 44, line 14. 
Ay I let me like the ocean-Patriarch roam. 

This first of voyages is one of the few with which the Mussul* 
mans profess much acquaintance. 

Note 38, page 44, line 15. 
Or only knozc on land the Tartar's home. 

The wandering life of the Arabs, Tartars, and Turkomans, 
will be found well detailed in any book of Eastern travels. That 
it possesses a charm peculiar to itself cannot be denied. A young 
French renegado confessed to Chateaubriand, that he never 
found himself alone, galloping in the desart, without a sensation 
approaching to rupture, which was indescribable. 

Note 39, page 45, line 12. 
Blooming as Aden in its earliest hour. 
" Jannat al Aden/' the perpetual abode, the Mussulman Para- 
dise. 

Note 40, page 55, line 2. 
And mourned above his turban-stone. 
A turban is carved in stone above the graves of men only. 

Note 41, page 55, line 11. 
The loud Wul-wulleh warn his distant ear. 
The death-song of the Turkish women. The " silent *>lav t >" 
i re the men whose notions of decorum forbid complaint in public. 



12 NOTES. 



Note 42, page 57, line 7. 
" Where is my child?' an Echo answers " Where'!" 

" I came to the place of my birth and cried, * The friends of 
w my youth, where are they?' and an Echo answered, ' Where 
w are they ?' " From an Arabic MS. 

The above quotation (from which the idea in the text is taken) 
must be already familiar to every reader it is given in the first 
annotation, page 67, of " The Pleasures of Memory;" a poem 
so well known as to render a reference almost superfluous ; but 
to whose pages all will be delighted to recur. 

Note 43, page 59, line 12. 

Into Zuleika j s name. 
" And airy tongues that syllable men's names." 

MILTON. 

For a belief that the souls of the dead inhabit the form of birds, 
we need not travel to the East. Lord Lyttleton's ghost story, 
the belief of the Duchess of Kendal, that George II. flew into 
her window in the shape of a raven (see Orford's Reminiscences), 
and many other instances, bring this superstition nearer home. 
The most singular was the whim of a Worcester lady, who be- 
lieving her daughter to exist in the shape of a singing bird, li- 
terally furnished her pew in the Cathedral with cages-fall of the 
kind ; and as she was rich, and a benefactress in beautifying the 
church, no objection was made to her harmless folly. For this 
anecdote, see Orford's Letters. 

THE END. 



T. DAVISON, Lombard-street, 
Whitefriars, London. 



THE CORSAIR. 



THE CORSAIR, 



A TALE. 



BY LORD BYRON. 



I suoi pensieri in lui dormir non ponno." 

TASUO, Canto decimo, Gerusaleinme Libcruta. ' 



FIFTH EDITION. 



LONDON: 

PRINTED FOR JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE-STREET; 
By Thomas Davison, Whitefriart. 

1814. 



TO 

THOMAS MOORE, ESQ. 

MY DEAR MOORE, 

I DEDICATE to you the last production 
with which I shall trespass on public patience, 
and your indulgence, for some years ; and I 
own that I feel anxious to avail myself of this 
latest and only opportunity of adorning my 
pages with a name, consecrated by unshaken 
public principle, and the most undoubted and 
various talents. While Ireland ranks you 
among the firmest of her patriots while you 
stand alone the first of her bards in her esti- 
mation, and Britain repeats and ratifies the 



VI DEDICATION. 

decree permit one, whose only regret, since 
our first acquaintance, has been the years he 
had lost before it commenced, to add the 
humble, but sincere suffrage of friendship, to 
the voice of more than one nation. It will at 
least prove to you, that I have neither for- 
gotten the gratification derived from your so- 
ciety, nor abandoned the prospect of its 
renewal, whenever your leisure or inclination 
allows you to atone to your friends for too 
long an absence. It is said among those 
friends, I trust truly, that you are engaged in 
the composition of a poem whose scene will 
be laid in the East ; none can do those scenes 
so much justice. The wrongs of your own 
country, the magnificent and fiery spirit of 
her sons, the beauty and feeling of her daugh- 
ters, may there be found ; and Collins, when 



DEDICATION. Vll 

he denominated his Oriental, his Irish 
Eclogues, was not aware how true, at least, 
was a part of his parallel. Your imagination 
will create a warmer sun, and less clouded sky; 
but wildness, tenderness, and originality are 
part of your national claim of oriental descent, 
to which you have already thus far proved 
your title more clearly than the most zealous of 
your country's antiquarians. May I add a 
few words on a subject on which all men are 
supposed to be fluent, and none agreeable ? 
Self. I have written much, and published 
more than enough to demand a longer silence 
than I now meditate ; but for some years to 
come it is my intention to tempt no further 
the award of " Gods, men, nor columns/' 
In the present composition I have attempted 
not the most difficult, but, perhaps, the best 



Vlll DEDICATION. 

adapted measure to our language, the good 
old and now neglected heroic couplet : the 
stanza of Spenser is perhaps too slow and 
dignified for narrative ; though, I confess, it 
is the measure most after my own heart ; and 
Scott alone, of the present generation, has 
hitherto completely triumphed over the fatal 
facility of the octo-syllabic verse ; and this 
is not the least victory of his fertile and 
mighty genius. In blank verse, Milton, 
Thomson, and our dramatists, are the bea- 
cons that shine along the deep, but warn 
us from the rough and barren rock on which 
they are kindled. The heroic couplet is 
not the most popular measure certainly ; but 
as I did not deviate into the other from a 
wish to flatter what is called public opinion, 
I shall quit it without further apology, and 



DEDICATION. IX 

take my chance once more with that versifi- 
cation, in which I have hitherto published 
nothing but compositions whose former circu- 
lation is part of my present and will be of my 
future regret. 

With regard to my story, and stories in ge- 
neral, I should have been glad to have ren- 
dered my personages more perfect and amia- 
ble, if possible, inasmuch as I have been 
sometimes criticised, and considered no less 
responsible for their deeds and qualities than 
if all had been personal. Be it so if I have 
deviated into the gloomy vanity of " drawing 
from self/' the pictures are probably like, 
since they are unfavourable; and if not, those 
who know me are undeceived, and those who 
do not, I have little interest in undeceiving. 



X DEDICATION. 

I have no particular desire that any but 
my acquaintance should think the author 
better than the beings of his imagining; but 
I cannot help a little surprise, and perhaps 
amusement, at some odd critical exceptions in 
the present instance, when I see several bards 
(far more deserving, I allow) in very reputable 
plight, and quite exempted from all participa- 
tion in the faults of those heroes, who, never- 
theless, might be found with little more mora- 
lity than " The Giaour/' and perhaps but 
no I must admit Childe Harold to be a very 
repulsive personage ; and as to his identity, 
those who like it must give him whatever 
" alias" they please. 

If, however, it were worth while to remove 
the impression, it might be of some service to 



DEDICATION. 



XI 



me, that the man who is alike the delight of his 
readers and his friends the poet of all cir- 
cles and the idol of his own, permits me 
here and elsewhere to subscribe myself, 

most truly, 

and affectionately, 
his obedient servant, 
BYRON. 

January 2, 1814. 



THE CORSAIR, 



A TALE. 



CANTO I. 



nessun maggior dolort, 



" Che ricordarsi del tempo felice 
" Nella miseria, 



DANTE. 



L 

" O'ER the glad waters of the dark blue sea, 
" Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free, 
" Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam, 
" Survey our empire and behold our home ! 
" These are our realms, no limits to their sway 
" Our flag the sceptre all who meet obey. 
" Ours the wild life in tumult still to range 
" From toil to rest, and joy in every change. 
" Oh, who can tell ? not thou, luxurious slave ! 
" Whose soul would sicken o'er the heaving wave; 



10 



2 THE CORSAIR. 

" N ot thou, vain lord of wantonness and ease ! 

" Whom slumber soothes not pleasure cannot please 

" Oh, who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried, 

" And danc'd in triumph o'er the waters wide, 

" The exulting sense the pulse's maddening play, 

" That thrills the wanderer of that trackless way ? 

" That for itself can woo the approaching fight, 

" And turn what some deem danger to delight ; 

" That seeks what cravens shun with more than zeal, 

" And where the feebler faint can only feel 20 

" Feel to the rising bosom's inmost core, 

" Its hope awaken and its spirit soar ? 

" No dread of death if with us die our foes 

" Save that it seems even duller than repose : 

" Come when it will we snatch the life of life 

" When lost what recks it by disease or strife ? 

" Let him who crawls enamoured of decay, 

" Cling to his couch, and sicken years away ; 

" Heave his thick breath ; and shake his palsied head ; 

" Ours the fresh turf, and not the feverish bed. SO 

u While gasp by gasp he faulters forth his soul, 

" Ours with one pang one bound escapes controul. 



THE CORSAIR. 3 

" His corse may boast it's urn and narrow cave, 

" And they who loath'd his life may gild his grave : 

" Ours are the tears, though few, sincerely shed, 

" When Ocean shrouds and sepulchres our dead. 

" For us, even banquets fond regret supply 

" In the red cup that crowns our memory ; 

" And the brief epitaph in danger's day, 

" When those who win at length divide the prey, 40 

" And cry, Remembrance saddening o'er each brow, 

" How had the brave who fell exulted now /" 

II. 

Such were the notes that from the Pirate's isle, 
Around the kindling watch-fire rang the while ; 
Such were the sounds that thrilFd the rocks along, 
And unto ears as rugged seem'd a song ! 
In scattered groupes upon the golden sand, 
They game carouse converse or whet the brand ; 
Select the arms to each his blade assign, 
And careless eye the blood that dims its shine : 50 

Repair the boat replace the helm or oar, 
While others straggling muse along the shore ; 

B 2 



4 THE CORSAIR. 

For the wild bird the busy springes set, 

Or spread beneath the sun the dripping net : 

Gaze where some distant sail a speck supplies, 

With all the thirsting eye of Enterprize 

Tell o'er the tales of many a night of toil, 

And marvel where they next shall seize a spoil : 

No matter where their chiefs allotment this 

Theirs to believe no prey nor plan amiss. 60 

But who that CHIEF ? his name on every shore 

Is famed and fear'd they ask and know no more. 

With these he mingles not but to command 

Few are his words, but keen his eye and hand. 

Ne'er seasons he with mirth their jovial mess, 

But they forgive his silence for success. 

Ne'er for his lip the purpling cup they fill, 

That goblet passes him untasted still 

And for his fare the rudest of his crew 

Would that, in turn, have pass'd untasted too ; 70 

Earth's coarsest bread, the garden's homeliest roots, 

And scarce the summer luxury of fruits, 

His short repast in humbleness supply 

With all a hermit's board would scarce deny. 



I 



THE CORSAIR. 5 

But while he shuns the grosser joys of sense, 

His mind seems nourished by that abstinence. 

" Steer to that shore!" they sail. " Do this !" 'tis done : 

" Now form and follow me !" the spoil is won. 

Thus prompt his accents and his actions still, 

And all obey and few enquire his will ; 80 

To such, brief answer and contemptuous eye 

Convey reproof, nor further deign reply. 

III. 

" A sail ! a sail !" a promised prize to Hope! 

Her nation flag how speaks the telescope ? 

No prize, alas ! but yet a welcome sail : 

The blood-red signal glitters in the gale. 

Yes she is our's a home returning bark 

Blow fair, thou breeze ! she anchors ere the dark. 

Already doubled is the cape our bay 

Receives that prow which proudly spurns the spray ; QO 

How gloriously her gallant course she goes ! 

Her white wings flying never from her foes. 

She walks the waters like a thing of life, 

And seems to dare the elements to strife 



o THE CORSAIR. 

Who would not brave the battle-fire the wreck 
To move the monarch of her peopled deck ? 

IV. 

Hoarse o'er her side the rustling cable rings ; 

The sails are furl'd ; and anchoring round she swings : 

And gathering loiterers on the land discern 

Her boat descending from the latticed stern. 100 

'Tis mann'd the oars keep concert to the strand, 

Till grates her keel upon the shallow sand. 

Hail to the welcome shout ! the friendly speech ! 

When hand grasps hand uniting on the beach ; 

The smile, the. question, and the quick reply, 

And the heart's promise of festivity ! 

* 

V. 

The tidings spread and gathering grows the crowd : 

The hum of voices and the laughter loud, 

And woman's gentler anxious tone is heard 109 

Friends' husbands' lovers' names in each dear word. 

" Oh! are they safe ? we ask not of success 

" But shall we see them? will their accents bless ? 






THE CORSAIR. 

" From where the battle roars the billows chafe 
" They doubtless boldly did but who are safe ? 
" Here let them haste to gladden and surprize, 
" And kiss the doubt from these delighted eyes!" 



VI. 

" Where is our chief ? for him we bear report 
" And doubt that joy which hails our coming short, 
" Yet thus sincere 'tis cheering, though so brief ; 
" But, Juan ! instant guide us to our chief: 120 

a Our greeting paid, we'll feast on our return, 
" And all shall hear what each may wish to learn." 
Ascending slowly by the rock-hewn way, 
To where his watch-tower beetles o'er the bay, 
By bushy brake, and wild flowers blossoming, 
And freshness breathing from each silver spring, 
Whose scattered streams from granite basins burst, 
Leap into life, and sparkling woo your thirst ; 
From crag to cliff they mount Near yonder cave, 
What lonely straggler looks along the wave ? 1 30 

In pensive posture leaning on the brand, 
Not oft a resting-staff to that red hand ! 



3 THE CORSAIR. 

" 'Tis he 'tis Conrad here as wont alone, 

On Juan ! on and make our purpose known. 

" The bark he views and tell him we would greet 

" His ear with tidings he must quickly meet : 

" We dare not yet approach thou know'st his mood, 

" When strange or uninvited steps intrude." 

VII. 

Him Juan sought, and told of their intent 

He spake not but a sign express'd assent. 140 

These Juan calls they come to their salute 

He bends him slightly, but his lips are mute. 

" These letters, chief, are from the Greek the spy 

" Who still proclaims our spoil or peril nigh ; 

" Whatever his tidings, we can well report, 

" Much that" " Peace, peace !" he cuts their prating short. 

Wondering they turn abashed while each to each 

Conjecture whispers in his muttering speech : 

They watch his glance with many a stealing look, 

To gather how that eye the tidings took ; 1 50 

But this as if he guess' d with head aside 

Perchance from some emotion doubt, or pride 



Tllii CORSAIR. 

ilr read the scroll " My tablets, Juan, hark 
" Where is Gonsalvo?" 

" In the anchored bark." 
" There let him stay to him this order bear. 
" Back to your duty for my course prepare : 
" Myself this enterprize to-night will share." 



" To-night, Lord Conrad ?" 

"Ay! at set of sun: 160 

" The breeze will freshen when the day is done. 
" My corslet cloak one hour and we are gone. 
" Sling on thy bugle see that free from rust, 
" My carbine-lock springs worthy of my trust ; 
" Be the edge sharpen'd of my boarding-brand, 
" And give it's guard more room to fit my hand. 
" This let the Armourer with speed dispose ; 
" Last time it more fatigued my arm than foes : 
" Mark that the signal-gun be duly fired, 
" To tell us when the hour of stay's expired." 170 



10 THE CORSAIR. 

VIII. 

They make obeisance, and retire in haste, 

Too soon to seek again the watery waste : 

Yet they repine not so that Conrad guides, 

And who dare question aught that he decides? 

That man of loneliness and mystery, 

Scarce seen to smile, and seldom heard to sigh 

Whose name appals the fiercest of his crew, 

And tints each swarthy cheek with sallower hue ; 

Still sways their souls with that commanding art 

That dazzles leads yet chills the vulgar heart. 1 80 

What is that spell, that thus his lawless train 

Confess and envy yet oppose in vain ? 

What should it be ? that thus their faith can bind ? 

The power of Thought the magic of the Mind ! 

Linked with success assumed and kept with skill, 

That moulds another's weakness to it's will 

Wields with their hands but still to these unknown, 

Makes even their mightiest deeds appear his own. 

Such hath it been shall be beneath the sun 

The many still must labour for the one; 1 90 

'Tis Nature's doom but let the wretch who toils, 

Accuse not hate not him who wears the spoils. 



I 



TIIK fORSAltt. 



( )h ! if he knew the weight of splendid chains, 
How light the balance of his humbler pains ! 



11 



IX. 

Unlike the heroes of each ancient race, 

Demons in act, but Gods at least in face, 

In Conrad's form seems little to admire, 

Though his dark eye-brow shades a glance of fire : 

Robust but not Herculean to the sight 

No giant frame sets forth his common height ; 200 

Yet in the whole who paused to look again, 

Saw more than marks the crowd of vulgar men 

They gaze and marvel how and still confess 

That thus it is, but why they cannot guess. 

Sun-burnt his cheek his forehead high and pale,- 

The sable curls in wild profusion veil ; 

And oft perforce his rising lip reveals 

The haughtier thought it curbs, but scarce conceals. 

Though smooth his voice, and calm his general mien, 

Still seems there something he would not have seen : 210 

His features' deepening lines and varying hue, 

At times attracted, yet perplex'd the view, 



12 THE CORSAIR. 

As if within that murkiness of mind 

Work'd feelings fearful, and yet undefined ; 

Such might it be that none could truly tell 

Too close enquiry his stern glance could quell. 

There breathe but few whose aspect could defy 

The full encounter of his searching eye ; 

He had the skill, when Cunning's gaze would seek 

To probe his heart and watch his changing cheek, 220 

At once the observer's purpose to espy, 

And on himself roll back his scrutiny, 

Lest he to Conrad rather should betray 

Some secret thought than drag that chief's to day. 

There was a laughing Devil in his sneer, 

That raised emotions both of rage and fear ; 

And where his frown of hatred darkly fell, 

Hope withering fled and Mercy sighed farewell ! 

X. 

Slight are the outward signs of evil thought, 
Within within 'twas there the spirit wrought! 230 
Love shows all changes Hate, Ambition, Guile, 
Betray no further than the bitter smile ; 









THE CORSAIR. IS 

The lip's least curl, the lightest paleness thrown 
Along the governed aspect, speak alone 
Of deeper passions; and to judge their mien, 
He, who would see, must be himself unseen. 
Then with the hurried step, the upward eye, 
The clenched hand, the pause of agony, 
That listens, starting, lest the step too near 
Approach intrusive on that mood of fear: 240 

Then with each feature working from the heart, 
. With feelings loosed to strengthen not depart 
That rise convulse subside that freeze, or glow, 
Flush in the cheek, or damp upon the brow, 
Then Stranger ! if thou canst, and tremblest not, 
Behold his soul the rest that soothes his lot ! 
Mark how that lone and blighted bosom sears 
The scathing thought of execrated years ! 
Behold but who hath seen, or e'er shall see, 
Man as himself the secret spirit free ? 250 

XL 

Yet was not Conrad thus by Nature sent 

To lead the guilty guilt's worst instrument 



14? THE CORSAIH 

His soul was changed before his deeds had driven 

Him forth to war with man and forfeit heaven. 

Warp'd by the world in Disappointment's school, 

In words too wise in conduct there a fool 

Too firm to yield and far too proud to stoop 

DoomM by his very virtues for a dupe, 

He curs'd those virtues as the cause of ill, 

And not the traitors who betrayed him still; 260 

Nor deem'd that gifts bestowed on better men 

Had left him joy, and means to give again. 

Fear'd shunn'd belied ere youth had lost her force, 

He hated man too much to feel remorse 

t 

And thought the voice of wrath a sacred call, 

To pay the injuries of some on all. 

He knew himself a villain but he deem'd 

The rest no better than the thing he seem'd ; 

And scorn'd the best as hypocrites who hid 

Those deeds the bolder spirit plainly did. 270 

He knew himself detested, but he knew 

The hearts that loath'd him crouch'd and dreaded too. 

Lone, wild, and strange, he stood alike exempt 

From all affection and from all contempt : 



THE CORSAIR. 1.3 

His name could sadden, and his acts surprize ; 
But they that fear'd him dared not to despise : 
Man spurns the worm, but pauses ere he wake 
The slumbering venom of the folded snake. 

XII. 

None are all evil clinging round his heart, 

One softer feeling would not yet depart ; 280 

Oft could he sneer at others as beguil'd 

By passions worthy of a fool or child 

Yet 'gainst that passion vainly still he strove, 

And even in him it asks the name of Love ! 

Yes, it was love unchangeable unchanged 

Felt but for one from whom he never ranged ; 

Though fairest captives daily met his eye, 

He shunn'd, nor sought, but coldly pass'd them by ; 

Though many a beauty droop'd in prison'd bower, 

None ever sooth'd his most unguarded hour. 290 

Yes it was Love if thoughts of tenderness, 

Tried in temptation, strengthen'd by distress, 

Unmoved by absence, firm in every clime, 

And yet Oh more than all ! untired by time 



16 THE CORSAIR. 

1 Which nor defeated hope, nor baffled wile, 
Could render sullen were she ne'er to smile, 
Nor rage could fire, nor sickness fret to vent 
On her one murmur of his discontent 
Which still would meet with joy, with calmness part, 
Lest that his look of grief should reach her heart ; 300 
Which nought remov'd nor menaced to remove 
I If there be love in mortals this was love ! 
He was a villain aye reproaches shower 
On him but not the passion, nor its power, 
Which only proved, all other virtues gone, 
Not guilt itself could quench this loveliest one ! 

XIII. 

He paused a moment till his hastening men 

Pass'd the first winding downward to the glen. 

" Strange tidings ! many a peril have I past, 

" Nor know I why this next appears the last! 310 

" Yet so my heart forebodes, but must not fear, 

" Nor shall my followers find me falter here. 

" 'Tis rash to meet but surer death to wait 

" Till here they hunt us to undoubted fate, 



THE C011SAIU. 17 

" And, if my plan but hold, and Fortune smile, 

" \\ t-'ll furnish mourners for our funeral-pile. 

" Ay let them slumber peaceful be their dreams 1 

" Morn ne'er awoke them with such brilliant beams 

" As kindle high to-night (but blow, thou breeze!) 

*' To warm these slow avengers of the seas. 320 

" Now to Medora Oh! my sinking heart, 

" Long may her own be lighter than thou art ! 

" Yet was I brave mean boast ! where all are brave 

" Ev'n insects sting for aught they seek to save 

" This common courage which with brutes we share, 

" That owes its deadliest efforts to despair, 

" Small merit claims but 'twas my nobler hope 

" To teach my few with numbers still to cope ; 

" Long have I led them not to vainly bleed : 

" No medium now we perish or succeed ! 330 

" So let it be it irks not me to die ; 

" But thus to urge them whence they cannot fly 

" My lot hath long had little of my care, 

" But chafes my pride thus baffled in the snare : 

" Is this my skill ? my craft? to set at last 

" Hope, power, and life upon a single cast ? 






18 THE CORSAIR. 

" Oh, Fate! accuse thy folly, not thy fate 
" She may redeem thee still nor yet too late." 

XIV. 

Thus with himself communion held he till 

He reached the summit of his tower-crown'd hill : 340 

There at the portal paus'd for wild and soft 

He heard those accents never heard too oft ; 

Through the high lattice far yet sweet they rung, 

And these the notes his bird of beauty sung : 

1. 
" Deep in my soul that tender secret dwells, 

Lonely and lost to light for evermore, 
Save when to thine my heart responsive swells, 

Then trembles into silence as before. 

2. 
" There in its centre a sepulchral lamp 

Burns the slow flame eternal but unseen ; 350 

Which not the darkness of despair can damp, 

Though vain its ray as it had never been. 



THE CORSAIR. 



19 



3. 
" Remember me Oh! pass not thou my grave 

Without one thought whose relics there recline 
The only pang my bosom dare not brave, 

Must be to find forgetfulness in thine. 



4. 
" My fondest faintest latest accents hear : 

Grief for the dead not Virtue can reprove ; 
Then give me all I ever asked a tear, 

The first last sole reward of so much love!" 



3GO 



He pass'd the portal cross'd the corridore, 
And reach' d the chamber as the strain gave o'er : 
" My own Medora sure thy song is sad" 

" In Conrad's absence wouldst thou have it glad ? 

" Without thine ear to listen to my lay, 

" Still must my song my thoughts, my soul betray : 

" Still must each accent to my bosom suit, 

" My heart unhush'd although my lips were mute ! 

" Oh ! many a night on this lone couch reclin'd, 369 

" My dreaming fear with storms hath wing'd the wind, 



20 THE CORSAIR. 

" And deern'd the breath that faintly fann'd thy sail 

" The murmuring prelude of the ruder gale ; 

" Though soft it seem'd the low prophetic dirge, 

" That mourn'd thee floating on the savage surge : 

" Still would I rise to rouse the beacon fire, 

" Lest spies less true should let the blaze expire ; 

" And many a restless hour outwatch'd each star, 

" And morning came and still thou wert afar. 

" Oh! how the chill blast on my bosom blew, 

" And day broke dreary on my troubled view, 380 

" And still I gazed and gazed and not a prow 

" Was granted to my tears my truth my vow ! 

" At length 'twas noon I hail'd and blest the mast 

" That met my sight it near'd Alas ! it past ! 

* Another came Oh God! 'twas thine at last! 

" Would that those days were over ! wilt thou ne'er, 

" My Conrad ! learn the joys of peace to share ? 

" Sure thou hast more than wealth and many a home 

" As bright as this invites us not to roam : 

" Thou know'st it is not peril that I fear, 390 

" I only tremble when thou art not here ; 

" Then not for mine but that far dearer life, 

" Which flies from love and languishes for strife 



THE CORSAIR. 21 

w How strange that heart, to me so tender still, 
" Should \var with nature and its better will ! " 

" Yea, strange indeed that heart hath long been changed, 

" Worm-like 'twas trampled adder-like avenged, 

" Without one hope on earth beyond thy love, 

" And scarce a glimpse of mercy from above. 

" Yet the same feeling which thou dost condemn, 400 

" My very love to thee is hate to them, 

" So closely mingling here, that disentwin'd, 

" I cease to love thee when I love mankind : 

" Yet dread not this the proof of all the past 

" Assures the future that my love will last ; 

" But Oh, Medora ! nerve thy gentler heart, 

" This hour again but not for long we part.*' 

" This hour we part ! my heart foreboded this. 

" Thus ever fade my fairy dreams of bliss 

" This hour it cannot be this hour away ! 410 

" Yon bark hath hardly anchored in the bay. 

" Her consort still is absent and her crew 

" Have need of rest before they toil anew ; 



22 THE CORSAIR. 

" My love ! thou mock'st my weakness ; and would'st steel 

" My breast before the time when it must feel. 

" But trifle now no more with my distress, 

" Such mirth hath less of play than bitterness : 

" Be silent, Conrad ! dearest come and share 

" The feast these hands delighted to prepare 

" Light toil! to cull and dress thy frugal fare! 420 

" See, I have pluck'd the fruit that promised best, 

" And where not sure, perplex'd, but pleased, I guess'd 

" At such as seem'd the fairest : thrice the hill 

" My steps have wound to try the coolest rill ; 

" Yes ! thy Sherbet to-night will sweetly flow, 

" See how it sparkles in its vase of snow! 

" The grapes' gay juice thy bosom never cheers 

" Thou more than Moslem when the cup appears 

" Think not I mean to chide for I rejoice 

" What others deem a penance is thy choice. 430 

" But come the board is spread our silver lamp 

" Is trimm'd, and heeds not the Sirocco's damp: 

" Then shall my handmaids while the time along, 

" And join with me the dance, or wake the song ; 

" Or my guitar, which still thou lov'st to hear, 

" Shall soothe or lull or, should it vex thine ear, 



I 



THE CORSAIR. 23 

" We'll turn the tale, by Ariosto told, 

" Of fair Olympia lov'd and left of old. 1 

" Why thou wert worse than he who broke his vow 

" To that lost damsel, shouldst thou leave me now ; 440 

" Or even that traitor chief I've seen thee smile, 

" When the clear sky showed Ariadne's Isle, 

" Which I have poiated from these cliffs the while : 

" And thus half sportive half in fear I said, 

" Lest Time should raise that doubt to more than dread, 

" Thus Conrad, too, will quit me for the main : 

" And he deceiv'd me for he came again !" 

" Again again and oft again my love ! 

" If there be life below, and hope above, 

" He will return but now the moments bring 450 

" The time of parting with redoubled wing : 

" The why the where what boots it now to tell ? 

" Since all must end in that wild word farewell ! 

" Yet would I fain did time allow disclose 

" Fear not these are no formidable foes ; 

" And here shall watch a more than wonted guard, 

" For sudden siege and long defence prepar'd : 



24 THE CORSAIR. 

" Nor be them lonely though thy lord's away, 

" Our matrons and thy handmaids with thee stay ; 

" And this thy comfort that, when next \ve meet, 460 

" Security shall make repose more sweet : 

" List! 'tis the bugle Juan shrilly blew 

" One kiss one more another Oh! Adieu!" 

She rose she sprung she clung to his embrace, 

Till his heart heaved beneath her hidden face. 

He dared not raise to his that deep-blue eye, 

That downcast droop'd in tearless agony. 

Her long fair hair lay floating o'er his arms, 

In all the wilduess of dishevelled charms ; 

Scarce beat that bosom where his image dwelt 410 

So full that feeling seem'd almost unfelt ! 

Hark peals the thunder of the signal-gun ! 

It told 'twas sunset and he curs'd that sun. 

Again again that form he madly pressed, 

Which mutely clasp'd imploringly cai ess'd ! 

And tottering to the couch his bride he bore, 

One moment gazed as if to gaze no more 

Felt that for him earth held but her alone, 

Kiss'd her cold forehead turn'd is Conrad gone ? 



1 11K CORSAIR. 2.5 

\\. 

" And is he gone ?" on sudden solitude 480 

How oft that fearful question \vill intrude ? 
" 'Twas but an instant past and here he stood ! 
" And now" without the portal's porch she rush'd 
And then at length her tears in freedom gush'd, 
Big bright and fast, unknown to her they fell ; 
But still her lips refus'd to send " Farewell!" 
For in that word that fatal word howe'er 
We promise hope believe there breathes despair. 
O'er every feature of that still, pale face, 
Had sorrow lix'd what time can ne'er erase : 490 

The tender blue of that large loving eye 
Grew frozen with its gaze on vacancy 
Till Oh, how far! it caught a glimpse of him 
And then it flovv'd and phrenzied seem'd to swim 
Through those long, dark, and glistening lashes dew'd 
With drops of sadness oft to be renevt'd. 
" He's gone!" against her heart that hand is driven, 
Convuls'd and quick then gently raised to heaven ; 
She look'd and saw the heaving of the main ; 
The white sail set she dared not look again ; 500 



26 THE CORSAIR. 

But turn'd with sickening soul within the gate 
" It is no dream and I am desolate !" 

XVI. 

From crag to crag descending swiftly sped 
Stern Conrad down, nor once he turnM his head ; 
But shrunk whene'er the windings of his way 
Forced on his eye what he would not survey 
His lone, but lovely dwelling on the steep, 
That hailed him first when homeward from the deep : 
And she the dim and melancholy star, 
Whose ray of beauty reach'd him from afar, 510 

On her he must not gaze, he must not think, 
There he might rest but on Destruction's brink- 
Yet once almost he stopp'd and nearly gave 
His fate to chance, his projects to the wave ; 
But no it must not be a worthy chief 
May melt, but not betray to woman's grief. 
He sees his bark, he notes how fair the wind, 
And sternly gathers all his might of mind : 
Again he hurries on and as he hears 
The clang of tumult vibrate on his ears, 



I 



THE CORSAIR. 27 

The busy sounds, the bustle- of the shore, 

The shout, the signal, and the dashing oar 

As marks his eye the seaboy on the mast, 

The anchor's rise, the sails unfurling fast, 

The waving kerchiefs of the crowd that urge 

That mute adieu to those who stem the surge ; 

And more than all his blood-red flag aloft 

He marvell'd how his heart could seem so soft. 

Fire in his glance, and wildness in his breast, 

He feels of all his former self possest ; .530 

He bounds he flies until his footsteps reach 

The verge where ends the cliflf, begins the beach, 

There checks his speed ; but pauses less to breathe 

The breezy freshness of the deep beneath, 

Than there his wonted statelier step renew ; 

Nor rush, disturb'd by haste, to vulgar view : 

For well had Conrad learn'd to awe the crowd, 

By arts that veil, and oft preserve the proud ; 

His was the lofty port, the distant mien, 

That seems to shun the sight and awes if seen : 540 

The solemn aspect, and the high-born eye, 

That checks low mirth, but lacks not courtesy ; 



28 THE CORSAIR. 

All these he wielded to command assent 

But where he wished to win, so well unbent, 

That kindness cancelled fear in those who heard, 

And other's gifts shewed mean beside his word 

When echoed to the heart as from his own, 

His deep yet tender melody of tone : 

But such was foreign to his wonted mood, 

He cared not what he soften' d -but subdued ; 550 

The evil passions of his youth had made 

Him value less who loved than what obeyed. 

XVII. 

Around him mustering ranged his ready guard. 
Before him Juan stands " Are all prepared ?" 

" They are nay more embarked : the latest boat 

" Waits but my chief " 

" My sword, and my capote." 
Soon firmly girded on, and lightly slung, 
His belt and cloak were o'er his shoulders flung ; 
" Call Pedro here !" He comes and Conrad bends, 
With all the courtesy he deign'd his friends ; 560 



I 



THE CORSAIR. 2<J 

" Receive these tablets, and peruse with care, 

" Words of high trust, and trutli are graven there ; 

" Double the guard, and when Anselmo's bark 

" Arrives, let him alike these orders mark : 

" In three days (serve the breeze) the sun shall shine 

" On our return till then all peace be thine ! " 

This said, his brother Pirate's hand he wrung, 

Then to his boat with haughty gesture sprung. 

FlashM the dipt oars, and sparkling with the stroke, 

Around the waves' phosphoric 1 brightness broke ; 57O 

They gain the vessel on the deck he stands. 

Shrieks the shrill whistle ply the busy hands 

He marks how well the ship her helm obeys, 

How gallant all her crew and deigns to praise. 

His eyes of pride to young Gonsalvo turn ; 

Why doth he start, and inly seem to mourn ? 

Alas! those eyes beheld his rocky tower, 

And live a moment o'er the parting hour; 

She his Medora did she mark the prow ? 

Ah ! never loved he half so much as now ! 580 

But much must yet be done ere dawn of day. 

Again he mans himself and turns away ; 



30 THE CORSAIR. 

Down to the cabin with Gonsalvo bends, 

And there unfolds his plan his means and ends ; 

Before them burns the lamp, and spreads the chart, 

And all that speaks and aids the naval art ; 

They to the midnight watch protract debate 

To anxious eyes what hour is ever late ? 

Mean time, the steady breeze serenely blew> 

And fast and Falcon-like the vessel flew ; 590 

Pass'd the high headlands of each clustering isle, 

To gain their port long long ere morning smile : 

And soon the night-glass through the narrow bay 

Discovers where the Pacha's galleys lay. 

Count they each sail and mark how there supine 

The lights in vain o'er heedless Moslem shine ; 

Secure unnoted Conrad's prow pass'd by, 

And anchor' d where his ambush meant to lie ; 

Screen'd from espial by the jutting cape, 

That rears on high its rude fantastic shape. 600 

Then rose his band to duty not from sleep 

Equipp'd for deeds alike on land or deep ; 

While lean'd their leader o'er the fretting flood, 

And calmly talk'd and yet he talk'd of blood ! 

END OF CANTO I. 



THE CORSAIR 



CANTO IF. 



tf Conosceste i dubiosi desiri ?" 

DANTE. 



I. 

IN Coron's bay floats many a Galley light, 

Through Coron's lattices the lamps are bright, 

For Seyd, the Pacha, gives a feast to-night : 

A feast for promised triumph yet to come, 

When he shall drag the fetter'd Rovers home ; 

This hath he sworn by Alia and his sword, 

And faithful to his firman and his word, 

His summoned prows collect along the coast, 

And great the gathering crews and loud the boast 

Already shared the captives and the prize, 

Though far the distant foe they thus despise. 



610 



32 THE COBS AI It. 

'Tis but to sail no doubt to-morrow's Sun 

Will see the Pirates bound their haven won ! 

Mean time the watch may slumber, if they will, 

]Vor only wake to war, but dreaming kill : 

Though all, who can, disperse on shore and seek 620 

To flesh their glowing valour on the Greek ; 

How well such deed becomes the turban'd brave 

To bare the sabre's edge before a slave ! 

Infest his dwelling but forbear to slay, 

Their arms are strong, yet merciful to-day, 

And do riot deign to smite because they may ! 

Unless some gay caprice suggests the blow, 

To keep in practice for the coming foe. 

Revel and rout the evening hours beguile, 

And they who wish to wear a head must smile ; 630 

For Moslem mouths produce their choicest cheer, 

And hoard their curses, till the coast is clear. 

II. 

High in his hall reclines the turban'd Seyd : 
Around the bearded chiefs he came to lead. 
Removed the banquet, and the last pilaff 
Forbidden draughts, 'tis said, he dared to quaff, 



THE CORSAIR. 3* 

Though to flic rest the sober berry's juice, 3 

The slaves bear round for rigid Moslem's use ; 

The long Chibouque's 4 dissolving cloud supply, 

While dance the Almas s to wild minstrelsy : 640 

The rising morn will view the chiefs embark ; 

But waves are somewhat treacherous in the dark : 

And revellers may more securely sleep 

On silken-couch than o'er the rugged deep ; 

Feast there who can nor combat till they must, 

And less to conquest than to Korans trust ; 

And yet the numbers crowded in his host 

Might warrant more than even the Pacha's boast. 

III. 

With cautious reverence from the outer gate, 

Slow stalks the slave, whose office there to wait, 650 

Bows his bent head his hand salutes the floor, 

Ere yet his tongue the trusted tidings bore : 

" A captive Dervise, from the pirate's nest 

" Escaped, is here himself would tell the rest." 

He took the sign from Seyd's assenting eye, 

And led the holy man in silence nigh. 

D 



34 THE CORSAIR. 

His arms were folded on his dark-green vest, 

His step was feeble, and his look deprest ; 

Yet worn he seem'd of hardship more than years, 

And pale his cheek with penance, not from fears, 660 

Vow'd to his God his sable locks he wore, 

And these his lofty cap rose proudly o'er : 

Around his form his loose long robe was thrown, 

And wrapt a breast bestow'd on heaven alone ; 

Submissive, yet with self-possession mann'd, 

He calmly met the curious eyes that scann'd ; 

And question of his coming fain would seek, 

Before the Pacha's will allowed to speak. 

IV. 

" Whence com'st thou, Dervise i* 

" From the outlaw's den,. 670 
" A fugitive ' y 

" Thy capture where and when ?" 
" From Scalanova's port to Scio's isle, 
" The Saick was bound ; but Alia did not smile 
" Upon our course the Moslem merchant's gain* 
u The Rovers won ; our limbs have worn their chains. 






THE CORSALR. 

" I had no death to fear, nor wealth to boast, 
" Beyond the wandering freedom which I lost ; 
" At length a fisher's humble boat by night 
" Afforded hope, and offer'd chajice of flight : 
" I seized the hour, and find my safety here 
'' With thee most mighty Pacha! who can fear?" 



680 



" How speed the outlaws ? stand they well prepared, 
" Their plunder'd wealth, and robber's rock, to guard? 
" Dream they of this our preparation, doom'd 
* To view with fire their scorpion nest consumed r" 

" Pacha ! the fettered captive's mourning eye 

" That weeps for flight, but ill can play the spy ; 

" I only heard the reckless waters roar, 

" Those waves that would not bear me from the shore ; 

" I only mark'd the glorious sun and sky, 690 

" Too bright too blue for my captivity ; 

" And felt that all which Freedom's bosom cheete, 

" Must break my chain before it dried my tears. 

" This may'st thou judge, at least, from my escape, 

" They little deem of aught in peril's shape: 



36 THE CORSAIR. 

" Else vainly had I prayed or sought the chance 

" That leads me here if eyed with vigilance : 

t( The careless guard that did not see me fly, 

" May watch as idly when thy power is nigh. 

" Pacha ! my limbs are faint and nature craves 70$ 

" Food for my hunger, rest from tossing waves ; 

" Permit my absence peace be with thee ! Peace 

" With all around ! now grant repose release." 

" Stay, Dervise ! I have more to question stay, 
" I do command thee sit dost hear ? .obey ! 
" More I must ask, and food the slaves shall bring ; 
" Thou shalt not pine where all are banqueting : 
" The supper done prepare thee to reply, 
" Clearly and full I love not mystery." 

'Twere vain to guess what shook the pious man, 710 

Who look'd not lovingly on that 'Divan ; 

Nor show'd high relish for the banquet prest, 

And less respect for every fellow guest. 

'Twas but a moment's peevish hectic past 

Along his cheek, and tranquillized as fast : 



THE CORSAIR. 37 

He sate him down in silence, and his look 

Resumed the calmness which before forsook : 

The feast was usher'd in but sumptuous fare 

He shuun'd as if some poison mingled there. 

For one so long condemn'd to toil and fast, 720 

Methinks he strangely spares the rich repast. 

" What ails thee, Dervisc ? eat dost thou suppose 

11 This feast a Christian's ? or my friends thy foes ? 

" Why dost thou shun the salt? that sacred pledge, 

" Which, once partaken, blunts the sabre's edge, 

" Makes even contending tribes in peace unite, 

" And hated hosts seem brethren to the sight !" 

41 Salt seasons dainties and my food is still 

" The humblest root, my drink the simplest rill ; 

" And my stern vow and order's 6 laws oppose 730 

" To break or mingle bread with friends or foes ; 

" It may seem strange if there be aught to dread, 

" That peril rests upon my single head ; 

" But for thy sway nay more thy Sultan's throne, 

" I taste nor bread nor banquet save alone; 



3S THE CORSAIR. 

" Infringed our order's rule, the Prophet's ragfe 
" To Mecca's dome might bar my pilgrimage/* 

" Well as thou wilt ascetic as thou art 
" One question answer ; then in peace depart. 
u How many ?. Ha ! it cannot sure be day ? 740 

f What star. what sun is bursting on the bay ? 
" It shines a lake of fire ! away away ! 
" Ho ! treachery ! my guards ! my scimitar ! 
" The galleys feed the flames and I afar ! 
" Accursed Dervise ! these thy tidings thou 
*' Some villain spy seize cleave him slay him now \" 

Up rose the Dervise with that burst of light, 

Nor less his change of form appall'd the sight : 

Up rose that Dervise not in saintly garb, 

But like a warrior bounding from his barb, 750 

Dash'd his high cap, and tore his robe away 

Shone his maiPd breast, and flash'd his sabre's ray ! 

His close but glittering casque, and sable plume, 

More glittering eye, and black brow's sabler gloom, 

Glared on the Moslems* eyes some Afrit sprite, 

Whose demon death-blow left no hope for fight. 



THE CORSAIR. 89 

The wild confusion, and the swarthy glow 

Of flames on high, and torches from below ; 

The shriek of terror, and the mingling yell 

For swords began to clash, and shouts to swell, 760 

Flung o'er that spot of earth the air of hell! 

Distracted to and fro tire flying slaves 

Behold but bloody shore and fiery waves ; 

Nought heeded they the Pacha's angry cry, 

They seize that Dervise ! seize on Zatanai ! 7 

He saw their terror chcck'd the first despair 

That urged him but to stand and perish there, 

Since far too early and too well obey'd, 

The flame was kindled ere the signal made ; 

He saw their terror from his baldric drew 770 

His bugle brief the blast but shrilly blew, 

'Tis answer'd " Well ye speed, my gallant crew ! 

" Why did I doubt their quickness of career ? 

" And deem design had left me single here ?" 

Sweeps his long arm that sabre's whirling sway, 

Sheds fast atonement for its first delay ; 

Completes his fury, what their fear begun, 

And makes the many basely quail to one. 



40 THE CORSAIR. 

The cloven turbans o'er the chamber spread, 

And scarce an arm dare rise to guard its head : 780 

Even Seyd, convuls'd, o'erwhelm'd with rage, surprize, 

Retreats before him, though he still defies. 

No craven he and yet he dreads the blow, 

So much Confusion magnifies his foe ! 

His blazing galleys still distract his sight, 

He tore his beard, and foaming fled the fight; 8 

For now the pirates pass'd the Haram gate, 

And burst within and it were death to wait ; 

Where wild Amazement shrieking kneeling throws 

The sword aside in vain the blood o'erflows ! 790 

The Corsairs pouring, haste to where within, 

Invited Conrad's bugle, and the din 

Of groaning victims, and wild cries for life, 

Proclaim'd how well he did the work of strife. 

They shout to find him grim and lonely there, 

A glutted tyger mangling in his lair ! 

But short their greeting shorter his reply 

" 'Tis well but Seyd escapes and he must die. 



THE CORSAIR. 41 

w> Much hath been done but more remains to do 

*' Their galleys blaze why not their city too ?" 300 

V. 

Quick at the word they seized him each a torch, 

And fire the dome from minaret to porch. 

A stern delight was fixM in Conrad's eye, 

But sudden sunk for on his ear the cry 

Of women struck, and like a deadly knell 

Knock'd at that heart unmoved by battle's yell. 

" Oh ! burst the Haram wrong not on your lives 

" One female form remember zee have wives. 

u On them such outrage Vengeance will repay ; 

" Man is our foe, and such 'tis ours to slay: 810 

" But still we spared must spare the weaker prey. 

" Oh ! I forgot but Heaven will not forgive 

" If at my word the helpless cease to live ; 

" Follow who will I go we yet have time 

" Our souls to lighten of at least a crime." 

He climbs the crackling stair he bursts the door, 

Nor feels his feet glow scorching with the floor ; 

His breath choak'd gasping with the volumed smoke, 

But still from room to room his way he broke : 



4 42 TH CORSAIR 

They search they find they save : with lusty arms 820 

Each bears a prize of unregarded charms ; 

Calm their loud fears ; sustain their sinking frames 

With all the care defenceless beauty claims : 

So well could Conrad tame their fiercest mood, 

And check the very hands with gore imbrued. 

But who is she ? whom Conrad's arms convey 

From reeking pile and combat's wreck away - 

Who but the love of him he dooms to bleed ? 

The Haram queen but still the slave of Seyd ! 

VI. 

Brief time had Conrad now to greet Gulnare*, SIX) 

Few words to reassure the trembling fair ; 

For in that pause compassion snatch'd from war, 

The foe before retiring, fast and far, 

With wonder saw their footsteps unpursued, 

First slowlier fled then rallied then withstood. 

This Seyd perceives, then first perceives how few, 

Compar'd with his, the Corsair's roving crew, 

And blushes o'er his error as he eyes 

The ruin wrought by panic and surprize. 



T11K CORSAIR. i 

Alia il Alia ! Vengeance swells the cry 840 

Shame mounts to rage that must atone or die ! 

And flame for flame and blood for blood must tell, 

The tide of triumph ebbs that flowed too well 

When wrath returns to renovated strife, 

And those who fought for conquest strike for life. 

Conrad beheld the danger he beheld 

His followers faint by freshening foes repelled: 

" One effort one to break the circling host!" 

They form unite charge waver all is lost ! 

Within a narrower ring compress'd, beset, 850 

1 lopeless, not heartless, strive and struggle yet 

Ah ! now they fight in firmest file no more, 

Hemm'd in cut off cleft down and trampled o'er ; 

But each strikes singly, silently, and home, 

Ajid sinks out wearied rather than o'ercome, 

His last faint quittance rendering with his breath, 

Till the blade glimmers in the grasp of death ! t 



VII. 

But first, ere came the rallying host to blows, 
And rank to rank, and hand to hand oppose, 



44 THE CORSAIR. 

Gulnare and all her Haram handmaids freed, 

Safe in the dome of one who held their creed 

By Conrad's mandate safely were bestow'd, 

And dried those tears for life and fame that flow'd : 

And when that dark-eyed lady, young Gulnare, 

RecalPd those thoughts late wandering in despair, 

Much did she marvel o'er the courtesy 

That smooth'd his accents soften'd in his eye. 

'Twas strange that robber thus with gore bedew'd, 

Seem'd gentler then than Seyd in fondest mood. 

The Pacha wooed as if he deem'd the slave 870 

Must seem delighted with the heart he gave ; 

The Corsair vowed protection, sootlr d affright, 

As if his homage were a woman's right. 

" The wish is wrong nay worse for female vain : 

" Yet much I long to view that chief again ; 

" If but to thank for, what my fear forgot, 

" The life my loving lord remembered not !" 

VIII. 

And him she saw, where thickest carnage spread, 
But gathered breathing from the happier dead ; 



Till- CORSA1U 1'. 

Far Irom his baud, and battling with a host 880 

That deem right dearly \\ on the field he lost, 

FelFd bleeding baffled of the death he sought, 

And snatch'd to expiate all the ills he wrought ; 

Preserved to linger and to live in vain, 

While Vengeance ponder'd o'er new plans of pain, 

And staunch'd the blood she saves to shed again 

But drop by drop, for Seyd's unglutted eye 

Would doom him ever dying ne'er to die ! 

Can this be he ? triumphant late she saw, 

When his red hand's wild gesture waved, a law ! 890 

'Tis he indeed disarm'd but undeprest, 

His sole regret the life he still possest ; 

His wounds too slight, though taken with that will, 

Which would have kiss'd the hand that then could kill. 

Oh were there none, of all the many given, 

To send his soul he scarcely asked to heaven ? 

Must he alone of all retain his breath, 

Who more than all had striv'n and struck for death . ? 

He deeply felt what mortal hearts must feel; 

When thus reversed on faithless fortune's wheel, 900 



46 THE CORSAIR, 

For crimes committed, and the victor's threat 

Of lingering tortures to repay the debt 

He deeply, darkly felt ; but evil pride 

That led to perpetrate now serves to hide. 

Still in his stern and self-collected mien 

A conqueror's more than captive's air is seen, 

Though faint with wasting toil and stiffening wound, 

But few that saw so calmly gaz'd around : 

Though the far shouting of the distant crowd, 

Their tremors o'er, rose insolently loud, 910 

The better warriors who beheld him near, 

Insulted not the foe who taught them fear 

And the grim guards that to his durance led, 

In silence eyed him with a secret dread. 

IX. 

The Leech was sent tout not in mercy there 

To note how much the life yet left could bear ; 

He found enough to load with heaviest chain, 

And promise feeling for the wrench of pain : 

To-morrow yea to-morrow's evening sun 

Will sinking see impalement's pangs begun, 920 



THE CORSAIR. 4? 

And rising with the wonted blush of morn 

Behold how well or ill those pangs arc borne;. 

Of torments this the longest and the worst, 

Which adds all other agony to thirst, 

That day by day death still forbears to slake, 

While famish'd vultures flit around the stake. 

n Oh ! water water !" smiling Hate denies 

The victim's prayer for if he drinks he dies. 

This was his doom : the Leech, the guard were gone, 

And left proud Conrad fetter'd and alone. 930 



X. 

Twere vain to paint to what his feelings grew 
It even were doubtful if their victim knew. 
There is a war, a chaos of the mind, 
When all its elements convuls'd combined 
Lie dark and jarring with perturbed force, 
And gnashing with impenitent Remorse ; 
That juggling fiend who never spake before 
But cries, " I warn'd thee !" when the deed is o'er. 
Vain voice ! the spirit burning but unbent, 
May writhe rebel the weak alone repent ! 



48 THE CORSAIR, 

Even in that lonely hour when most it feels, 
And to itself all all that self reveals, 
No single passion, and no ruling thought 
That leaves the rest as once unseen, unsought, 
But the wild prospect when the soul reviews 
All rushing through their thousand avenues 
Ambition's dreams expiring, love's regret, 
Endangered glory, life itself beset ; 
5 he joy untasted, the contempt or hate 
Gainst those who fain would triumph in our fate j Q50 
The hopeless past the hasting future driven 
Too quickly on to guess if hell or heaven ; 
Deeds, thoughts, and words, perhaps remembered not 
So keenly till that hour, but ne'er forgot; 
Things light or lovely in their acted time, 
But now to stern reflection each a crime ; 
The withering sense of evil unreveal'd, 
Not cankering less because the more conceal'd 
All in a word from which all eyes must start, 
That opening sepulchre the naked heart 960 

Bares with its buried woes, till Pride awake, 
To snatch the mirror from the soul and break. 



THE CORSAIR. 49 

Ay Pride can veil, and Courage brave it all 

-All all before beyond the deadliest fall: 

Each hath some fear, and he who least betrays, 

The only hypocrite deserving praise : 

Not the loud recreant wretch who boasts and flies ; 

But he who looks on death and silent dies : 

So steel'd by pondering o'er his far career, 

He halfway meets him should he menace near ! 970 

XL 

In the high chamber of his highest tower, 
Sate Conrad, fetter'd in the Pacha's power. 
His palace perish'd in the flame this fort 
Contain'd at once his captive and his court. 
Not much could Conrad of his sentence blame, 
His foe, if vanquished, had but shared the same : 
Alone he sate in solitude had scann'd 
His guilty bosom, but that breast he mann'd : 
One thought alone he could not dared not meet 
" Oh, how these tidings will Medora greet?" 980 

Then only then his clanking hands he rais'd, 
And strain' d with rage the chain on which he gazed ; 

E 



50 THE CORSAIK. 

But soon he found or feign'd or dream'd relief. 
And smiFd in self-derision of his grief, 
" And now come torture when it will or may 
" More need of rest to nerve me for the day!" 
This said, with languor to his mat he crept, 
And, whatsoe'er his visions, quickly slept. 

'Twas hardly midnight when that fray begun, 

For Conrad's plans matured, at once were done ; 990 

And Havoc loathes so much the waste of time, 

She scarce had left an uncommitted crime. 

One hour beheld him since the tide he stemm'd - 

Disguis'd discovered conquering ta'en condemn'd- 

A chief on land an outlaw on the deep 

Destroying saving prison'd and asleep ! 

XII. . s 

He slept in calmest seeming for his breath 
Was hush'd so deep Ah ! happy if in death ! 
He slept Who o'er his placid slumber bends ? 
His foes are gone and here he hath no friends; 1000 
Is it some seraph sent to grant him grace ? 
No, 'tis an earthly form with heavenly face ! 



THE CORSAIR. 51 

Its white arm rais'd a lamp yet gently hid, 

Lest the ray flash abruptly on the lid 

Of that clos'd eye, which opens but to pain, 

And once unclosed but once may close again. 

That form, with eye so dark, and cheek so fair, 

And auburn waves of gemm'd and braided hair ; 

With shape of fairy lightness naked foot, 

That shines like snow, and falls on earth as mute 1010 

Through guards and dunnest night how came it there t 

All ! rather ask what will not woman dare ? 

Whom youth and pity lead like thee, Gulnare ! 

She could not sleep and while the Pacha's rest 

In muttering dreams yet saw his pirate-guest, 

She left his side his signet ring she bore, 

Which oft in sport adorn'd her hand before 

And with it, scarcely questioned, won her way 

Through drowsy guards that must that sign obey. 

Worn out vvith toil, and tir'd with changing blows, 1020 

Their eyes had envied Conrad his repose ; 

And chill and nodding at the turret door, 

They stretch their listless limbs, and watch no more 

Just raised their heads to hail the signet-ring, 

Nor ask or what or who the sign may bring. 



1 



52 THE CORSAIR. 

XIII. 

She gazed in wonder, " can he calmly sleep, 

" While other eyes his fall or ravage weep? 

" And mine in restlessness are wandering here 

" What sudden spell hath made this man so dear ? 

" True 'tis to him my life, and more, I owe, 1030 

" And me and mine he spared from worse than woe : 

" Tis late to think but soft his slumber breaks 

" How heavily he sighs ! he starts awakes !" 

He rais'd his head and dazzled with the light, 

His eye seem'd dubious if it saw aright : 

He moved his hand the grating of his chain 

Too harshly told him that he liv'd again. 

" What is that form ? if not a shape of air, 

" Methinks, my jailor's face shows wond'rous fair !" 

" Pirate ! thou know'st me not but I am one, 1040 

" Grateful for deeds thou hast too rarely done ; 

" Look on me and remember her, thy hand 

" Snatch'd from the flames, and thy more fearful band. 



THE CORSAIR. 55 

" I come through darkness and I scarce know \vhy 
" Yet not to hurt I would not see thee die." 

" If so, kind lady ! thine the only eye 

" That would not here in that gay hope delight : 

" Theirs is the chanco and let them use their right. 

" But still I thank their courtesy or thine, 

" That would confess me at so fair a shrine!" 10.50 

Strange though it seem yet with extremest grief 

Is limVd a mirth it doth not bring relief 

That playfulness of Sorrow ne'er beguiles, 

And smiles in bitterness but still it smiles 

And sometimes with the wisest and the best, 

Till even the scaffold I0 echoes with their jest ! 

Yet not the joy to which it seems akin 

It may deceive all hearts, save that within. 

Whate'er it was that flash'd on Conrad, now 

A laughing wildness half unbent his brow : 106O 

And these his accents had a sound of mirth, 

As if the last he could enjoy on earth ; 



34 THE CORSAIR. 

Yet 'gainst his nature for through that short life, 
Few thoughts had he to spare from gloom and strife. 

XIV. 

11 Corsair ! thy doom is named but I have power 

" To soothe the Pacha in his weaker hour. 

" Thee would I spare nay more would save thee now, 

" But this time hope nor even thy strength allow ; 

" But all I can, I will : at least, delay 

" The sentence that remits thee scarce a day. 1070 

" More now were ruin even thyself were loth 

" The vain attempt should bring but doom to both." 

" Yes! loth indeed : my soul is nerv'd to all, 

" Or falPn too low to fear a further fall: 

" Tempt not thyself with peril me with hope, 

" Of flight from foes with whom I could not cope ; 

" Unfit to vanquish shall I meanly fly, 

" The one of all my band that would not die ? 

" Yet there is one to whom my memory clings, 

" 'Till to these eyes her own wild softness springs. .1080 



THE CORSAIR. ,35 

" My sole resources in the path I trod 

" Were these my bark my sword my love my God! 

" The last I left in youth he leaves me now 

" And Man but works his will to lay me low. 

" I have no thought to mock his throne with prayer 

" Wrung from the coward crouching of despair, 

" It is enough I breathe and I can bear. 

" My sword is shaken from the worthless hand 

" That might have better kept so true a brand ; 

11 My bark is sunk or captive but my love 1090 

" For her in sooth my voice would mount above : 

" Oh ! she is all that still to earth can bind 

" And this will break a heart so more than kind, 

" And blight a form till thine appeared, Gulnare ! 

" Mine eye ne'er ask'd if others were as fair ? 

" Thou lov'st another then ? but what to me 

" Is this- 'tis nothing nothing e'er can be : 

" But yet thou lov'st and Oh! I envy those 

" Whose hearts on hearts as faithful can repose, 

" Who never feel the void the wandering thought J100 

" That sighs o'er visions such as mine hath wrought." 



56 THE CORSAIR. 

" Lady methought thy love was his, for whom 
" This arm redeem'd thee from a fiery tomb/' 

" My love stern Seyd's ? Oh No No not my love 

" Yet much this heart, that strives no more, once strove 

" To meet his passion but it would not be. 

" I felt I feel love dwells with with the free. 

" I am a slave, a favoured slave at best, 

t To share his splendour, and seem very blest ! 

" Oft must my soul the question undergo, 1110 

" Of Dost thou love ?' and burn to answer ' No !' 

" Oh ! hard it is that fondness to sustain, 

" And struggle not to feel averse in vain ; 

" But harder still the heart's recoil to bear, 

" And hide from one perhaps another there. 

t He takes the hand I give not nor withhold 

" Its pulse nor check'd nor quicken'd calmly cold : 

" And when he quits it drops a lifeless weight < 

" From one I never loved enough to hate. 

" No warmth these lips return by his imprest, 1 12(> 

" And chilFd remembrance shudders o'er the rest. 



THE CORSAIR. .57 

" Yes had I ever proved that passion's zeal, 

" The change to hatred were at least to feel : 

" But still he goes unmouni'd returns unsought 

" And oft when present absent from my thought. 

" Or when reflection comes, and come it must 

" I fear that henceforth 'twill but bring disgust; 

" I am his slave but, in despite of pride, 

" 'Twere worse than bondage to become his bride. 

" Oh! that this dotage of his breast would cease! 113O 

" Or seek another and give mine release, 

" But yesterday I could have said, to peace ! 

" Yes if unwonted fondness now I feign, 

" Remember captive ! 'tis to break thy chain. 

" Repay the life that to thy hand I owe ; 

" To give thee back to all endear'd below, 

" Who share such love as I can never know. 

" Farewell morn breaks and I must now away : 

" Twill cost me dear but dread no death to-day ! 



XV. 

She press'd his fetter'd fingers to her heart, 
And bow'd her head, and turn'd her to depart, 



1140 



38 THE CORSAIK. 

And noiseless as a lovely dream is gone. 

And was she here ? and is he now alone ? 

What gem hath dropp'd and sparkles o'er his chain ? 

The tear most sacred shed for others' pain 

That starts at once bright pure from Pity's mine. 

Already polish'd by the band divine ! 

Oh ! too convincing dangerously dear 

In woman's eye the unanswerable tear ! 

That weapon of her weakness she can wield, 1 1 50 

To save subdue at once her spear and shield 

Avoid it Virtue ebbs and Wisdom errs, 

Too fondly gazing on that grief of hers ! 

What lost a world, and bade a hero fly ? 

The timid tear in Cleopatra's eye. 

Yet be the soft triumvir's fault forgiven, 

this how many lose not earth but heaven ! 
Consign their souls to man's eternal foe, 
And seal their own to spare some wanton's woe! 

XVI. 

'Tis morn and o'er his alter'd features play 1160 

The beams without the hope of yesterday. 



THE CORSA1H. 

What shall he be ere night ? perchance a thing 
O'er which the raven flaps her funeral wing : 
By his closed eye unheeded and unfelt, 
While sets that sun, and dews of evening melt, 
Chill wet and misty round each stiffened limb, 
Refreshing earth reviving all but him ! 



tND OF CANTO 11, 



THE CORSAIR. 



CANTO III. 



" Come vedi ancor non m'abbandona." 

DANTE. 



I. 

SLOW sinks, more lovely ere his race be run, 

Along Morea's hills the setting sun ; 

Not as in Northern climes obscurely bright, 1 1 70 

But one unclouded blaze of living light ! 

O'er the hush'd deep the yellow beam he throws, 

Gilds the green wave, that trembles as it glows. 

On old jEgina's rock, and Idra's isle, 

The god of gladness sheds his parting smile ; 

O'er his own regions lingering loves to shine, 

Though there his altars are no more divine. 



62 THE CORSAIR. 

Descending fast the mountain shadows kiss 

Thy glorious gulph, unconquer'd Salamis ! 

Their azure arches through the long expanse i 1 80 

More deeply purpled meet his mellowing glance, 

And tenderest tints, along their summits driven, 

Mark his gay course and own the hues of heaven : 

Till, darkly shaded from the land and deep, 

Behind his Delphian cliff he sinks to sleep. 



On such an eve, his palest beam he cast, 
When Athens ! here thy wisest look'd his last. 
How watched thy better sons his farewell ray, 
That closed their murder'd sage's " latest day ! 
Not yet not yet Sol pauses on the hill 
The precious hour of parting lingers still ; 
But sad his light to agonizing eyes, 
And dark the mountain's once delightful dyes : 
Gloom o'er the lovely land he seem'd to pour, 
The land, where Phoebus never frown'd before, 
But ere he sunk below Cithaeron's head, 
The cup of woe was qnafFd the spirit fled : 



TIIK CORSAIR. t;:> 

The soul of him who scorn'd to fear or fly 
Who liv'd and died, as none can live or die! 

But lo! from high Hymettus to the plain, 1200 

The queen of night asserts her silent reign. ** 

No murky vapour, herald of the storm, 

Hides her fair face, nor girds her glowing form ; 

With cornice glimmering as the moon-beams play, 

There the white column greets her grateful ray, 

And bright around with quivering beams beset 

Her emblem sparkles o'er the minaret : 

The groves of olive scattered dark and wide 

Where meek Cephisus pours his scanty tide, 

The cypress saddening by the sacred mosque, 1210 

The gleaming turret of the gay Kiosfc, 13 

And, dun and sombre 'mid the holy calm. 

Near Theseus' fane yon solitary palm, 

All tinged with varied hues arrest the eye 

And dull were his that pass'd them heedless by. 

Again the /Egean, heard no more afar, 
Lulls his chaf d breast from elemental war ; 



64 THE CORSAIH. 

Again his waves in milder tints unfold 

Their long array of sapphire and of gold, 

Mixt with the shades of many a distant isle, 1<2<>() 

That frown where gentler ocean seems to smile. 14 

II. 

Not now my theme why turn my thoughts to thee ? 

Oh ! who can look along thy native sea, 

Nor dwell upon thy name, whatever the tale, 

So much its magic must o'er all prevail ? 

Who that beheld that Sun upon thee set, 

Fair Athens ! could thine evening face forget ? 

Not he whose heart nor time nor distance frees, 

Spell-bound within the clustering Cyclades ! 

Nor seems this homage foreign to his strain, 1230 

His Corsair's isle was once thine own domain 

Would that with freedom it were thine again ! 

III. 

The Sun hath sunk and, darker than the night, 
Sinks with its beam upon the beacon height 
Medora's heart the third day's come and gone 
With it he comes not sends not faithless one ! 
The wind was fair though light and storms were none, 



THK CORSAIR. 65 

Last ere Anselmo's bark return'd, and yet 

His only tidings that they had not met! 

Though \vild, as now, far different were the tale 121-0 

Had Conrad waited for that single sail. 

The night-breeze freshens she that day had past 

In watching all that Hope proclaimed a mast ; 

Sadly she sate on high Impatience bore 

At last her footsteps to the midnight shore, 

And there she wandered heedless of the spray 

That dash'd her garments oft, and warn'd away : 

She saw not felt not this nor dared depart, 

Nor deemed it cold her chill was at her heart ; 

Till grew such certainty from that suspense 1250 

His very Sight had shock'd from life or sense ! 

It came at last a sad and shattered boat, 
Whose inmates first beheld whom first they sought 
Some bleeding all most wretched these the few 
Scarce knew they how. escaped this all they knew. 
In silence darkling each appeared to wait 
His fellow's mournful guess at Conrad's fate. 

r 






*6 THE COIISAIR. 

Something they would have said ; but seemed to fear 

To trust their accents to Medora's ear. 

She saw at once, yet sunk not trembled not 12GO 

Beneath that grief that loneliness of lot 

Within that meek fair form were feelings high^ 

That deem'd not till they found their energy. 

While yet was Hope they soften'd fluttered wept 

All lost that softness died not but it slept 

And o'er its slumber rose that Strength which said, 

" With nothing left to love there's nought to dread." 

'Tis more than nature's; like the burning might 

Delirium gathers from the fever's height. 

" Silent you stand nor would I hear you tell 127Q 

" What speak not breathe not for I know it well 
" Yet would I ask almost my lip denies 
" The quick your answer -tell me where he lies ?" 

" Lady ! we know not scarce with life we fled ; 

" But here is one denies that he is dead : 

" He saw him bound ; and bleeding but alive." 

She heard no further 'twas in vain to strive 



THE CORSAIR. OT 

So throbb'd each vein each thought till then withstood; 

Her own dark soul these words at once subdued 

She totters falls and senseless had the wave 1280 

Perchance but snatch'd her from another grave; 

But that with hands though rude, yet weeping eyes, 

They yield such aid as Pity's haste supplies : 

Dash o'er her deathlike cheek the ocean dew, 

Raise fan sustain till life returns anew ; 

Awake her handmaids with the matrons leave 

That fainting form o'er \\hich they gaze and grieve; 

Then seek Anselmo's cavern to report 

The tale too tedious when the triumph short. 

IV. 

ID that wild council words wax'd warm and strange, 1290 
With thoughts of ransom, rescue, and revenge ; 
All, save repose or flight still lingering there 
Breathed Conrad's spirit, and forbade despair ; 
Whatever his fate the breasts he form'd and led, 
Will save him living, or appease him dead. 
Woe to his foes ! there yet survive a few, 
Whose deeds are daring, as their hearts are true. 



68 THE CORSAIH. 

Vv" 

Within the Haram's secret chamber sate 
Stern Seyd, still pondering o'er his Captive's fate ; 
His thoughts on love and hate alternate dwell, 1300 

Now with Gulnare, and now in Conrad's cell j 
Here at his feet the lovely slave reclined 
Surveys his brow would soothe his gloom of mind, 
While many an anxious glance her large dark eye 
Sends in its idle search for sympathy, 
His only bends in seeming o'er his beads, 15 
But inly views his victim as he bleeds. 

" Pacha ! the day is thine ; and on thy crest 

" Sits Triumph Conrad taken falPn the rest ! 

" His doom is fix'd he-dies and well his fate 1310 

" Was earn'd yet much too worthless for thy hate : 

" Methinks a short release, for ransom told 

tf With all his treasure, not unwisely sold ; 

" Report speaks largely of his pirate-hoard 

" Would that of this my Paclm were the Lord 1 



THE CORSAIR. 

'* While baffled weakened by this fatal fray 
" \Vatch\I followed he were then an easier prey ; 
" But once cut off the remnant of his band 
" Embark their wealth, and seek a safer strand." 



Gulnare ! if for each drop of blood a gem 1320 

Were offered rich as Stamboul's diadem ; 

If for each hair of his a massy mine 

Of virgin ore should supplicating shine ; 

If all our Arab tales divulge or dream 

Of wealth were here that gold should not redeem ! 

It had not now redeemed a single hour-^ 

But that I know him fetter'd, in my power ; 

And, thirsting for revenge, I ponder still 

On pangs that longest rack and latest kill." 



" Nay, Seyd ! I seek not to restrain thy rage, 
" Too justly moved for mercy to assuage ; 
" My thoughts were only to secure for thee 
" His riches thus released, he were not free : 
" Disabled, shorn of half his might and band, 
His capture could but wait thy first command." 



IfJSO 



,u THE CORSAIR. 

" His capture could! and shall I then resign 

" One day to him the wretch already mine ? 

" Release my foe ! at whose remonstrance ? thine ! 

" Fair suitor ! to thy virtuous gratitude, 

" That thus repays this Giaour's relenting mood, 1310 

tl Which thee and thine alone of all could spare, 

"No doubt regardless if the prize were fair, 

" My thanks and praise alike are due now hear ! 

" I have a counsel for thy gentler ear : 

" I do mistrust thee, woman ! and each word 

# Of thine stamps truth on all Suspicion heard. 

" Borne in his arms through fire from yon Serai 

" Say, \vert thou lingering there with him to fly ? 

" Thou need'st not answer thy confession speaks, 

u Already reddening on thy guilty cheeks ; 1350 

" Then, lovely dame, bethink thee ! and beware : 

" 'Tis not his life alone may claim such care ! 

" Another word and nay I need no more. 

<( Accursed was the moment when he bore 

" Thee from the flames, which better farbut no 

" I then had mourn'd thee with a lover's woe 

fe Now 'tis thy lord that warns deceitful thing ! 

** Know'st thou that I can clip thy wanton wing ? 






THE CORSAIR. 71 

" In words alone I um not wont to chafe : 

" Look to thyself nor deem thy falsehood safe 1" 1360 

lie rose and slowly, sternly thence withdresy, 

Rage in his eye and threats in his adieu : 

Ah ! little reck'd that chief of womanhood 

Which frowns ne'er quell'd, nor menaces subdued ; 

And little deem'd he what thy heart Gulnare ! 

When soft could feel, and when incens'd could dare. 

His doubts appear'd to wrong nor yet she knew 

How deep the root from whence compassion grew 

She was a slave from such may captives claim 

A fellow-feeling differing but in name ; 1 37$ 

Still half unconscious heedless of his wrath, 

Again she ventured on the dangerous path, 

Again his rage repell'd until arose 

That strife of thought the source of woman's woes ! 

VI. 

Meanwhile long anxious weary still the same 
Roll'd day and night his soul could terror tame 
This fearful interval of doubt and dread, 
\Vlien every hour might doom him worse than dead, 



72 tHE CORSAIR. 

When ever}- step that echoed by the gate, 

Might entering lead where axe and stake await ; 1380 

When every voice that grated on his ear 

Might be the last that he could ev^er hear ; 

Could terror tame that spirit stern and high 

Had proved unwilling as unfit to die ; 

Twas worn perhaps decayed 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 fiVd in fettered solitude, 

To pine, the prey of every changing mood ; 1390 

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 : 

JSefore thee tortures, which the soul can dare, 

Yet cjoubts how well the shrinking flesh may bear; HOO 



I UK (ORSAiK 73 

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 sustained he boots it well or ill ? 

Since not to sink beneath, is something still! 1410 

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 rolPd 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 ! 1420 



74 TJiE CORSAIR. 

Oft had lie ridden on that winged wave, 

And loved its roughness for the speed it gavs ; 

And now its dashing echoed on his ear, 

A long known voice alas ! too vainly near! 

Loud sung the wind above and, doubly loud, 

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 hoped that peril might not prove in vain. 143$ 

He raised his iron hand to Heaven, and prayed 

One pitying flash to mar the form it made : 

His steel and impious prayer attract alike 

The storm roll'd onward and disdained to strike ; 

Its peal waxed 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 bolt and sullen key 

Tis as his heart foreboded that fair she ! 1440 



THE COns.MK. 



Whatc'er her sins to him a guardian saint, 
And beauteous still as hermit's hope can paint ; 
Yet changed since last within that ceil she came, 
More pale her cheek more tremulous her frame : 
On him she cast her dark and hurried eye, 
Which spoke before her accents " thou must die! 
" Yes, thou must die there is but one resource, 
" The last the worst if torture were not worse." 

u Lady ! I look to none my lips proclaim I44U 

" What last proclaimed 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 1460 



76 THE CORSAIR. 

" Because despite thy crimes that heart is moved 

" It Jfear'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 halh such gentle dame to do with home ? 1470 

" 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 poignard -rise and follow me !" 

" Ay in my chains ! my steps will gently tread, 
" With these adornments, o'er each slumbering head ! 
" Thou hast forgot is this a garb for flight ? 
" Or is t that instrument more fit for fight !" 

" Misdoubting Corsair ! I have gain'd the guard, 

" Ripe for revolt, and greedy for reward. 1480 



THE CORSAIR. 



77 



" 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 'tis 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 
" Accus'd 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. 
" Twas false thou know'st but let such augurs rue, 150O 
" Their words are omens, Insult renders true. 
" Nor was thy respite granted to my prayer; 
" This fleeting grace was only to prepare 
" Nevf torments for thy life, and my despair. 



IS THE CORSAIR. 

" 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 ? 1510 

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

" If but to shew how grateful is a ilave. 

" 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, 1 520 

" '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 Guluare I never felt till now 
" My abject fortune withered fame so low : 



THE CORSAIR. M 

" Seyd is mine enemy : had swept my hand 

" From earth with ruthless but with open hand, 

" And therefore came I, in my bark of war, 

" To smite the smiter with the scimitar ; 1530 

" Such is my weapon not the secret knife 

" Who spares a woman's seeks not slumber's life 

4< Thine saved I gladly, Lady, not for this 

" Let me not deem that mercy *hc\vu amiss. 

" Now fare thee well more peace be with th\ bi . 

" 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 

ft If thou wilt perish, 1 \vill fall with thee. I ; \ - 

11 My life my love my hatred all below 

" Are on this cast Corsair! 'tis but a blow f 

" Without it flight were idle how evade 

" His sure pursuit ? my wrongs too utircpaid, 

" My youth disgraced the long long wasted year- 

" One blow shall cancel with our future fears; 

" But since the dagger suits thee less than brand. 

u I'll trv the firmness of a female hand 



*0 THE CORSAIR. 

" The guards are gain'd one moment all were o'er 
" Corsair ! we meet in safety or no more ; 1550 

" If errs my feeble hand, the morning cloud 
" Will hover o'er thy scaffold, and my shroud." 

IX. 

She turn'd, and vanished ere he could reply, 

But his glance followed 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 fettered limbs allow, pursued. 

Twas dark and winding, and he knew not where 

That passage led nor lamp nor guard were there : 1560 

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 reached 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 



THE CORSAIR. 



si 



Towards it he moved, a scarcely closing door 
Reveal'd the ray within, but nothing more. 1570 

With hasty step a figure outward past, 
Then paused and tuni'd and paused 'tis She at last ! 
No poignard in that hand nor sign of ill 
* Thanks to that softening heart she could not kill !" 
Again he looked, 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. 1589 

They meet upon her brow unknown forgot- 
Her hurrying hand had left 'twas but a spot 
Its hue was all he saw and scarce withstood 
Oh ! slight but certain pledge of crime 'tis blood J 

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 



8-S THE CORSAIR, 

But ne'er from strife captivity remorse 

From all his feelings in their inmost force 1590 

So thrill'd so shuddered every creeping vein 

As now they froze before that purple stain. 

That spot of blood, that light but guilty streak, 

Had banish'id all the beauty from her cheek ! 

Blood he had viewed could view unmoved but then 

It flow'd in combat, or was shed by men ! 

XL 

' u 'Tis 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 1600 

" The few gain'd over, now are wholly mine, 
" And these thy yet surviving band shall join : 
" Anon my voice shall vindicate my hand, 
a When once our sail forsakes this hated strand. 11 

XII. 

She clapp'd her hands and through the gallery pour, 
JEquipp'd for flight, her vassals Greek and Moor 5 



THE CORSAIR. S3 

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 transferred that iron weight 1610 

No words are uttered at her sign, a door 

Reveals the secret passage to the shore ; 

The city lies behind they speed, they reach 

The glad \vaves dancing on the yellow beach ; 

And Conrad following, at her beck, obey'd, 

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. 

xm. 

Embark 'd, tiie sail unfurPd, the light breeze blew- 
How much had Conrad's memory to review ! 1620 
Sunk he in contemplation till the cape 
Where last he anchored 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 sorrowed as he past ; 
He thought of all Gonsalvo and his band, 
His fleeting triumph and his failing hand ; 



84 THE CORSAIR. 

\ He thought on her afar, his lonely bride 

\ lie turned and saw Gulnare, the homicide! 163$ 

XIV. 

She watch'd his features till she could not bear 
Their freezing aspect arid 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, 
ft 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 ! 1640 

" 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 undesigned, the wretch he made j 
But speechless all, deep, dark, and unexprest, 
They bleed within that silent cell his breast. 



THE CORSAIR. ** 

Still onward, fair iht brrcv, 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 I 1G5O 

Their little bark her men of watch descry, 

And ampler canvas woos the wind from hiirh; 

She bears her down majestically near, 

Speed on her prow, and terror in her tier ; 

A flash is seen the ball beyond their bow 

Booms harmless hissing to the deep below. 

Uprose keen Conrad from his silent trance, 

A long, long absent gladness in his glance ; 

" 'Tis mine my blood- red flag again agam 

" I am not all deserted on the main !" 1660 

"They own the signal, answer to the hail, 

Hoist out the boat at once, and slacken sail. 

<; 'Tis Conrad ! Conrad!" shouting from the deck, 

Command nor duty could their transport check ! 

With light alacrity and gaze of pride, 

They view him mount once more his vessel's side ; 

A smile relaxing in each rugged face, 

Tlteir arms cnfi scarce forbear a rough embrace. 



36 THE CORSAIK, 

He half forgetting danger and defeat, 

Returns their greeting as a chief may greet, 1670 

Wrings with a cordial grasp Anselmo's hand, 

And feels he yet can conquer and command! 

XVI. 

These greetings o'er, the feelings that overflow, 

Yet grieve to win him back without a blow ^ 

They sail'd prepared for vengeance had they known 

A woman's hand secured that deed her own, 

She were their queen less scrupulous are they 

Than haughty Conrad how they win their way. 

With many an asking smile, and wondering stare, 

They whisper round, and gaze upon Gulnare ; 1680 

And her, at once above beneath her sex, 

Whom blood appall'd not, their regards perplex. 

To Conrad turns her faint imploring eye, 

She drops her veil, and stands in silence by ; 

Her arms are meekly folded on that breast, 

Which Conrad safe to fate resign'd the rest. 

Though worse than phrenzy could that bosom till, 

Extreme. in love or hate in good or ill, 

The worst of crimes had left her woman still ! 



I ilK CORSAIR. 17 

XVII. 

This Conrad mark'd, and felt ah ! could he less: 1690 
Hate of that deed Obut grief for her distress ; 
What she had done no tears can wash away, 
And heaven must punish on its angry day : 
But it was done he knew, whate'cr her guilt, 
For him that poignard smote that blood was spilt-* 
And he was free ! -and she for him had given 
Her all on earth, and more than all in heaven ! 
And now he turn'd him to that dark-eyed slave 
Whose brow was bowed beneath the glance he gave, 1699 
Who now seemed changed and humbled : faint and meek, 
But varying oft the colour of her cheek 
To deeper shafdes of paleness all it's red 
That fearful spot which stain'd it from the dead ! 
He took that hand it trembled now too late 
So soft in love so wildly nerved in hate ; 
He clasp'd that hand rt trembled -and his own 
Had lost it's firmness, and his voice it's tone. 
" Gulnare!" but she replied not " dear Gulnare!" 
She raised her eye her only answer there 
At once she sought and sunk in his embrace : 
If he had driven her from that resting place, 



S3 THE CORSAIR. 

His had been more or less than mortal heart, 
But good or ill it bade her not depart. 
Perchance, but for the bodings of his breast, 
His latest virtue then had joined the rest. 
Yet even Medora might forgive the kiss 
That asked from form so fair no more than this- 
The first the last that Frailty stole from Faith 
To lips where Love had lavished all his breath, 
To lips whose broken sighs such fragrance fling, 1720 
As he had fann'd them freshly with his wing ! 

XVIH. 

They gain by twilight's hour their lonely isle. 

To them the very rocks appear to smile, 

The haven hums with many a cheering sound, 

The beacons blaze their wonted stations round, 

The boats are darting o'er the curly bay, 

And sportive dolphins bend them through the spray ; 

Even the hoarse sea-bird's shrill discordant shriek, 

Greets like the welcome of his tuneless beak ! 

Beneath each lamp that through its lattice gleams, 1750 

Their fancy paints the friends that trim the beams. 



THE CORSAIR. 



Oh ! what can sanctify the joys of home, 

Like Hope's gay glance from Ocean's troubled foam ? 

XIX. 

The lights are high on beacon and from bower, 

And midst them Conrad seeks Medora's tower : 

He looks in vain 'tis strange and all remark, 

Amid so many, her's al'one is dark. 

5 Tis strange of yore its welcome never fail'd, 

Nor now, perchance, extinguished, only veil'd. 

With the first boat descends he for the shore, 1 7*0 

And looks impatient on the lingering oar. 

Oh ! for a wing beyond the falcon's flight, 

To bear him like an arrow to that height! 

With the first pause the resting rowers gave, 

He waits not looks not leaps into the wave, 

Strives through the surge bestrides the beach and high 

Ascends the path familiar to his eye. 

He reach'd his turret door he paused no sound 
Broke from within and all was night around. 
He knock'd, and loudly footstep nor reply 175O 

Announced that any heard or deem'd him nigh ; 



90 THE CORSAIR. 

He knock'd but faintly for his trembling hand 

Refused to aid his heavy heart's demand. 

The portal opens 'tis a well known face 

But not the form he panted fo embrace. 

Its lips are silent twice his own essay'd, 

And fail'd to frame the question they delayed; 

He snatch'd the lamp its light will answer all 

It quits his grasp expiring in the fall. 

He would not wait for that reviving ray 1760 

As soon could he have lingered there for day ; 

But, glimmering through the dusky corridore, 

Another chequers o'er the shadowed floor ; 

His steps the chamber gain his eyes behold 

All that his heart believed not ^-yet foretold! 

XX. 

He turn'd not -spoke not sunk not flx'd his loofc, 

And set the anxious frame that lately shook : 

He gazed how long we gaze despite of pain, 

And know but dare not own we gaze in vain f 

In life itself she was so still and fair, 1770 

That death with gentler aspect withered there : 



THE CORSAIR. J 

And the cold flowers l6 her colder hand contain'*}, 

In that last grasp as tenderly were slrain'd 

As if she scarcely felt, but feign'd a sleep, 

And made it almost mockery yet to weep : 

The long dark lashes fringed her lids of snow 

And veil'd thought shrinks from all that lurk'd below 

Oil ! o'er the eye death most exerts his might, 

And hurls the spirit from her throne of light ! 

Sinks those blue orbs in that long last eclipse, 1780 

But spares, as yet, the charm around her lips 

Yet yet they seem as they forbore to smile, 

And wish'd repose but only for a while ; 

Hut the white shroud, and each extended tress, 

Long fair but spread in utter lifelessness, 

Which, late the sport of every summer wind, 

Escaped the baffled wreath that strove to bind ; 

These and the pale pure cheek, became the bier 

But she is nothing wherefore is he here ? 

XXI. 

He ask'd no question all were answer'd now I79a 

By the first glance on that still marble brow. 
It was enough she died what reck'd it hour ? 



U'2 THE COllSAlft. 

The love of youth, the hope of better years, 

The source of softest joy and tenderest fears., 

The only living thing he could not hate, 

Was reft at once and he deserv'd his fate, 

But did not feel it less ; the good explore, 

For peace, thoise realms where guilt can never soaf : 

The proud the wayward tvho. have fixed below 

T.heir joy and find this earth enough for woe, 1800 

Lose in that one their all perchance a mite 

But who in patience parts with all delight ? 

Full many a stoic eye antl aspect stern 

Hide hearts where grief hath little teft to learn ; 

And many a withering thought lies hid not lost 

In smiles that least befit who wear them most. 

XXII. 

By those, that deepest feel, are ill exprest 

The indistinctness of the suffering breast; 

Where thousand thoughts begin to end in one, 

Which seeks from all the refuge found in none; 18 JO 

No words suffice the secret soul to show, 

Arid Truth denies all eloquence to Woe. 



THE CORSAIR. ) | 

On Conrad's stricken soul exhaustion prest, 

And stupor almost lull'd it into rest; 

So feeble now his mother's softness crept 

To those wild eyes, which like an infant's w-npt : 

It was the very weakness of his brain, 

Which thus confess'd without relieving pain. 

None saw his trickling tears perchance, if seen, 

That useless flood of grief had never been : 1 820 

Nor long they flowed he dried them to depart, 

Jn helpless hopeless brokenness of heart : 

The sun goes forth but Conrad's day is dim 

And the night cometh ne'er to pass from him 

There is no darkness like the cloud of mind, 

On Griefs vain eye the blindest of the blind ! 

Which may not dare not see but turns aside 

To blackest shade nor will endure a guide ! 

XXIII. 

His heart was form'd for softness warp'd to wrong 
Betray'd too early, and beguil'd too long; 1830 

Each feeling pure as falls die dropping dew 
Within the grot; like that had hardened too; 



94 THE CORSAIR. 

Less clear, peixhance, its .earthly trials pass'd, 

But sunk, and chill'd, and petrified at last. 

Yet tempests wear, and lightning cleaves the rock; 

If such his heart, so shatter'd it the shock. 

There grew one flower beneath its rugged brow, 

Though dark the shade it sheltered, saved till now. 

The thunder came that bolt hath blasted both, 

The Granite's firmness, and the Lily's growth: 1840 

The gentle plant hath left no leaf to tell 

Its tale, but shrunk and wither'd where it fell, 

And of its cold protector, blacken round 

But shiver'd fragments on the barren ground ! 

XXIV. 

'Tis morn to venture on his lonely hour 

Few dare though now Anselmo sought his tower. 

He was not there nor seen along the shore ; 

Ere night, alarm'd, their isle is traversed o'er : 

Another morn another bids them seek, 

And shout his name till echo waxeth weak ; 1850 

Mount grotto cavern valley search' d in vain, 

They find on shore a sea-boat's broken chain 

Their hope revives they follow o'er the main. 



THE CORSAIR. 95 

is idle all moons roll on moons away, 
And Conrad comes not came not since that day 
Nor trace, nor tidings of his doom declare 
Where lives his grief, or perish'd his despair! 
Long mourn'd his band whom none could mourn beside ; 
And fair the monument they gave his bride : 
For him they raise not the recording stone I860 

His death yet dubious, deeds too widely known ; 
He left a Corsair's name to other times, 
JJnk'd with one virtue, and a thousand crimes. 



NOTES. 



The time in this poem may seem too short for the occur- 
rences, but the whole of the JEgean isles are within a few 
hours sail of the continent, and the reader must be kind 
enough to take the ivind as I have often found it. 

Note 1, page 23, line 2. 
" Of fair Olympia lotfd and left of old. 
Orlando, Canto 10. 

Note 2, page 2Q, line 10. 
Around the waves 9 phosphoric brightness broke; 
By night, particularly in a warm latitude, every stroke of 
the oar, every motion of the boat or ship, is followed by a 
slight flash like sheet lightning from the water. 

Note 3, page 33, line 1. 
Though to the rest the sober berry 1 's juice, 
Coffee. 

Note 4, page 33, line 3. 
The long Chibouque's dissolving cloud supply, 
Pipe. 

Note 5, page 33, line 4. 
While dance the Almas to wild minstrelsy ; 
Dancing-girls. 

U 



y$ NOTES. 

Note 6, page 37, line 15. 
" And my stern vow and order's laws oppose 
The Derrises are in colleges, and of different orders, as the 
monks. 

Note 7> page 39, line 9. 
They seize that Dervise ! seize on Zatanai ! 
Satan. 

Note 8, page 40, line 8. 
He tore his beard, and foaming fled thejight, 
A common and not very novel effect of Mussulman anger. 
See Prince Eugene's Memoirs, page 24. *' The Seraskier 
" received a wound in the thigh ;,he plucked up his beard 
" by the roots, because he was obliged to quit the field." 

Note 9, page 42, line 11. 
Brief time had Conrad now to greet Gulnare, 
Gulnare, a female name ; it means, literally, the flower of 
the Pomegranate. 

Note 10, page 53, line 13. 
Till even the scaffold echoes with their jest! 
In Sir Thomas More, for instance, on the scaffold, and Anne 
Boleyn in the Tower, when grasping her neck, she remarked, 
that it "was too slender to trouble the headsman much." 
During one part of the French Revolution, it became a 
fashion to leave some " mot" as a legacy; and the quantity of 
facetious last words spoken during that period would form a 
melancholy jest-book of a considerable size. 



NOTES. 1M> 

Note 11, page 62, line 12. 
That closed their murder d sage's latest day ! 
Socrates drank the hemlock a short time before sunset (the 
hour of execution), notwithstanding the entreaties of his dis- 
ciples to wait till the sun went down. 

Note 12, page 63, line 4. 
The queen of night asserts her silent reign. 
The twilight in Greece is much shorter than in our own 
country; the days in winter are longer, but in summer of 
shorter duration. 

Note 13, page 63, line 14. 
The gleaming turret of the gay Kiosk, 

The Kiosk is a Turkish summer-house ; the palm is without, 
the present walls of Athens, not far from the temple of The- 
seusi between which and the tree the wall intervenes. Ce- 
phisus' stream is indeed scanty, and Ilissus has no stream at 
all. 

Note 14, page 64, line 4. 

That frown where gentler ocean seems to smile. 
The opening lines as far as section II. have, perhaps, little 
business here, and were annexed to an unpublished (though 
printed) poem; but they were written on the spot in the 
Spring of 1811, and I scarce know why the reader must 
excuse their appearance here if he can. 

Note 15, page 68, line 9. 
His only bends in seeming o'er his bead*, 
The Comboloio, or Mahometan rosary ; the beads are in 
number ninety-nine. 



100 NOTES. 

Note 16, page 91, line i. 
And the cold flowers her colder hand contained, 
In the Levant it is the custom to strew flowers on the bo- 
dies of the dead, and in the hands of young persons to place a 
nosegay. 



POEMS. 



To a Lady weeping. 

WEEP, daughter of a royal line, 
A Sire's disgrace, a realm's decay ; 

Ah, happy ! if each tear of thine 
Could wash a father's fault away ! 

Weep for thy tears are Virtue's tears 
Auspicious to these suffering isles; 

And be each drop in future years 
Repaid thee by thy people's smiles ! 

March, J812. 



102 POEMS. 



From the Turkish. 

1. 

THE chain I gave was fair to view, 
The lute I added sweet in sound, 

The heart that offered both was true, 
And ill deserv'd the fate it found. 

2. 
These gifts were charm'd by secret spell 

Thy truth in absence to divine; 
And they have done their duty well, 

Alas ! they could not teach thee thine. 

3. 
That chain was firm in every link, 

But not to bear a stranger's touch ; 
That lute was sweet till thou could'st think 

In other hands its notes were such. 



POEMS. 103 

4. 

Let him, who from thy neck unbound 
The chain which shiver'd in his grasp, 

Who saw that lute refuse to sound, 
Restring the chords, renew the clasp. 

5. 
When thou wert chang'd, they altered too ; 

The chain is broke, the music mute : 
Tis past to them and thee adieu 

False heart, frail chain, and silent lute. 



104 POEMS. 

SONNET. 

To Genevra. 

THINE eyes blue tenderness, thy long fair hair, 
And the wan lustre of thy features caught 
From contemplation where serenely wrought, 

Seems Sorrow's softness charm'd from its despair- 

Have thrown such speaking sadness in thine air, 
That but I know thy blessed bosom fraught 
With mines of unalloy'd and stainless thought 

I should have deem'd thee doom'd to earthly care. 

With such an aspect by his colours blent, 

When from his beauty-breathing pencil born, 

(Except that thou hast nothing to repent) 
The Magdalen of Guido saw the morn 

Such seem'st thou but how much more excellent! 
With nought Remorse can claim nor Virtue scorn. 



POEMx 105 

SONNET. 

To Gene-era. 

THY cheek is pale with thought, but not from woe, 
And yet so lovely, that if Mirth could flush 
Its rose of whiteness with the brightest blush, 

My heart would wish away that ruder glow : 

And dazzle not thy deep-blue eyes but oh ! 
While gazing on them sterner eyes will gush, 
And into mine my mother's weakness rush, 

Soft as the last drops round heaven's airy bow ; 

For, through thy long dark lashes low depending, 
The soul of melancholy Gentleness 

Gleams like a seraph from the sky descending, 
Above all pain, yet pitying all distress; 

At once such majesty with sweetness blending, 
I worship more, but cannot love thee less* 



106 POEMS. 





Inscription on the Monument of a Newfoundland Dog. 

WHEN some proud son of man returns to earth, 
Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth, 
The sculptor's art exhausts the pomp of woe, 
And storied urns record who rests below ; 
When all is done, upon the tomb is seen, 
Not what he was, but what he should have been : 
But the poor dog, in life the firmest friend, 
The first to welcome, foremost to defend, 
Whose honest heart is still his master's own, 
Who labours, fights, lives, breathes for him alone, 
Unhonour'd falls, unnotic'd all his worth, 
Denied in heaven the soul he held on earth : 
While man, vain insect ! hopes to be forgiven, 
And claims himself a sole exclusive heaven. 
Oh man ! thou feeble tenant of an hour, 
Debas'd by slavery, or corrupt by power, 
Who knows thee well must quit thee with disgust, 
Degraded mass of animated dust ! 



POEMS. 107 

Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat, 

Thy smiles hypocrisy, thy words deceit ! 

By nature vile, ennobled but by name, 

Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for shame. 

Ye ! who perchance behold this simple urn, 

Pass on it honours none you wish to mourn : 

To mark a friend's remains these stones arise, 

I never knew but one, and here he lies. 

Newstead Abbey, Oct. 30, 1808. 



10S POEMS. 



Farewell. 

FAREWELL ! if ever fondest prayer 

For other's weal availed on high, 
Mine will not all be lost in air, 

But waft thy name beyond the sky, 
'Twere vain to speak, to weep, to sigh : 

Oh ! more than tears of blood can tell, 
When wrung from guilt's expiring eye, 

Are in that word Farewell ! Farewell ! 

These lips are mute, these eyes are dry ; 

But in my breast, and in my brain, 
Awake the pangs that pass not by, 

The thought that ne'er shall sleep again. 
My soul nor deigns nor dares complain, 

Though grief and passion there rebel ; 
I only know we loved in vain 

I only feel Farewell ! Farewell ! 

THE END. 



T. DAV1SON, LomoarcKlreet, 
Wbitefriars, London. 



JJJNU 



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CARDS OR SLIPS FROM THIS POCKET 

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The Giaour. llth ed.