No More Learning

He makes a solitude, and calls it--peace! [gv][180]
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[gw]
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 ev'n thy soul might err--how oft the heart 920
Corruption shakes which Peril could not part!
And Woman, more than Man, when Death or Woe,
Or even Disgrace, would lay her lover low,
Sunk in the lap of Luxury will shame--
Away suspicion! --_not_ Zuleika's name!
But life is hazard at the best; and here
No more remains to win, and much to fear:
Yes, fear! --the doubt, the dread of losing thee,
By Osman's power, and Giaffir's stern decree.
That dread shall vanish with the favouring gale, 930
Which Love to-night hath promised to my sail:[gx]
No danger daunts the pair his smile hath blest,
Their steps still roving, but their hearts at rest.
With thee all toils are sweet, each clime hath charms;
Earth--sea alike--our world within our arms!
Aye--let the loud winds whistle o'er the deck,[181]
So that those arms cling closer round my neck:
The deepest murmur of this lip shall be,[gy][182]
No sigh for safety, but a prayer for thee!
The war of elements no fears impart 940
To Love, whose deadliest bane is human Art:
_There_ lie the only rocks our course can check;
_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. [gz]
Few words remain of mine my tale to close;
Of thine but _one_ to waft us from our foes;
Yea--foes--to me will Giaffir's hate decline?
And is not Osman, who would part us, thine?

XXI.

"His head and faith from doubt and death 950
Returned in time my guard to save;
Few heard, none told, that o'er the wave
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.
But now too long I've held thine ear; 960
Time presses--floats my bark--and here
We leave behind but hate and fear.
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 recall thy willing vow,
Appalled by truths imparted now, 970
Here rest I--not to see thee wed:
But be that peril on _my_ head! "

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, 980
Beneath the garden's wicket porch
Far flashed on high a blazing torch!
Another--and another--and another--[183]
"Oh! fly--no more--yet now my more than brother! "
Far, wide, 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; 990
And last of all, his sabre waving,
Stern Giaffir in his fury raving:
And now almost they touch the cave--
Oh! must that grot be Selim's grave?

XXIII.

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 flash;
Yet now too few--the attempt were rash:
No matter--yet one effort more. " 1000
Forth to the cavern mouth he stept;
His pistol's echo rang on high,
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 less equal war!
Farewell, Zuleika! --Sweet! retire: 1010
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 them 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 feel! " 1020

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-- 1030
Oh! are they yet in time to save?
His feet the foremost breakers lave;
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 its force to feel,[ha] 1040
Had Selim won, betrayed, beset,
To where the strand and billows met;
There as his last step left the land,
And the last death-blow dealt his hand--
Ah! wherefore did he turn to look[hb]
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! 1050
His back was to the dashing spray;
Behind, but close, his comrades lay,
When, at the instant, hissed the ball--
"So may the foes of Giaffir fall! "
Whose voice is heard? whose carbine rang?
Whose bullet through the night-air sang,
Too nearly, deadly aimed to err?
'Tis thine--Abdallah's Murderer!
The father slowly rued thy hate,
The son hath found a quicker fate: 1060
Fast from his breast the blood is bubbling,
The whiteness of the sea-foam troubling--
If aught his lips essayed to groan,
The rushing billows choked the tone!

XXVI.

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; 1070
Steps stamped; and dashed into the sand
The print of many a struggling hand
May there be marked; nor far remote
A broken torch, an oarless boat;
And tangled on the weeds that heap
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? 1080
Ye! who would o'er his relics weep,
Go, seek them where the surges sweep
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,[hc]
As shaken on his restless pillow,
His head heaves with the heaving billow;
That hand, whose motion is not life,[hd]
Yet feebly seems to menace strife, 1090
Flung by the tossing tide on high,
Then levelled with the wave--[184]
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,
Had seen those scattered limbs composed,
And mourned above his turban-stone,[185] 1100
That heart hath burst--that eye was closed--
Yea--closed before his own!

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 destined lord is come too late:
He sees not--ne'er shall see thy face!
Can he not hear
The loud Wul-wulleh[186] warn his distant ear?
Thy handmaids weeping at the gate, 1110
The Koran-chanters of the Hymn of Fate,[he][187]
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,
And that last thought on him thou could'st not save
Sufficed to kill; 1120
Burst forth in one wild cry--and all was still.
Peace to thy broken heart--and virgin grave!
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, 1130
That winds around, and tears the quivering heart!
Ah! wherefore not consume it--and depart!
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:[188]
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,
She, whom thy Sultan had but seen to wed,[hf]
Thy Daughter's dead! 1140
Hope of thine age, thy twilight's lonely beam,
The Star hath set that shone on Helle's stream.
What quenched its ray? --the blood that thou hast shed!
Hark! to the hurried question of Despair:[189]
"Where is my child? "--an Echo answers--"Where? "[190]

XXVIII.

Within the place of thousand tombs
That shine beneath, while dark above
The sad but living cypress glooms[hg]
And withers not, though branch and leaf
Are stamped with an eternal grief, 1150
Like early unrequited Love,
One spot exists, which ever blooms,
Ev'n in that deadly grove--
A single rose is shedding there
Its lonely lustre, meek and pale:
It looks as planted by Despair--
So white--so faint--the slightest gale
Might whirl the leaves on high;
And yet, though storms and blight assail,
And hands more rude than wintry sky 1160
May wring it from the stem--in vain--
To-morrow sees it bloom again!
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: 1170
To it the livelong night there sings
A Bird unseen--but not remote:
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! 1180
And yet so sweet the tears they shed,
'Tis sorrow so unmixed with dread,
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[hh]
Expires that magic melody.
And some have been who could believe,[hi]
(So fondly youthful dreams deceive, 1190
Yet harsh be they that blame,)
That note so piercing and profound
Will shape and syllable[191] its sound
Into Zuleika's name.
'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! 1200
It was no mortal arm that bore
That deep fixed pillar to the shore;
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, reclined, 'tis said.
Is seen a ghastly turbaned head:[192]
And hence extended by the billow,
'Tis named the "Pirate-phantom's pillow! " 1210
Where first it lay that mourning flower
Hath flourished; flourisheth this hour,
Alone and dewy--coldly pure and pale;
As weeping Beauty's cheek at Sorrow's tale! [hj][193]





THE CORSAIR. [197]



CANTO THE FIRST.

"----nessun maggior dolore,
Che ricordarsi del tempo felice
Nella miseria,----"
Dante, _Inferno_, v. 121.

I.

"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! [198]
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
Not 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 danced 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;[hk]
Heave his thick breath, and shake his palsied head;
Ours the fresh turf, and not the feverish bed,-- 30
While gasp by gasp he falters forth his soul,
Ours with one pang--one bound--escapes control.
His corse may boast its urn and narrow cave,
And they who loathed 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 thrilled the rocks along,
And unto ears as rugged seemed a song!
In scattered groups 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;
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 Enterprise;
Tell o'er the tales of many a night of toil,
And marvel where they next shall seize a spoil:
No matter where--their chief's allotment this;
Theirs to believe no prey nor plan amiss. 60
But who that Chief? his name on every shore
Is famed and feared--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 passed 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.
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 inquire 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? [hl]
No prize, alas! but yet a welcome sail:
The blood-red signal glitters in the gale.
Yes--she is ours--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. 90
How gloriously her gallant course she goes!
Her white wings flying--never from her foes--
She walks the waters like a thing of Life! [199]
And seems to dare the elements to strife.
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 furled; and anchoring round she swings;
And gathering loiterers on the land discern
Her boat descending from the latticed stern. 100
'Tis manned--the oars keep concert to the strand,
Till grates her keel upon the shallow sand. [hm]
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--
Friends'--husbands'--lovers' names in each dear word: 110
"Oh! are they safe? we ask not of success--
But shall we see them? will their accents bless?
From where the battle roars, the billows chafe,
They doubtless boldly did--but who are safe?
Here let them haste to gladden and surprise,
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
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, the 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? 130
In pensive posture leaning on the brand,
Not oft a resting-staff to that red hand?
"'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 expressed 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:
Whate'er 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; 150
But, this as if he guessed, with head aside,
Perchance from some emotion, doubt, or pride,
He 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 enterprise to-night will share. "
"To-night, Lord Conrad? "
"Aye! at set of sun:
The breeze will freshen when the day is done.
My corslet--cloak--one hour and we are gone. 160
Sling on thy bugle--see that free from rust
My carbine-lock springs worthy of my trust;
Be the edge sharpened of my boarding-brand,
And give its 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. "

VIII.

They make obeisance, and retire in haste,
Too soon to seek again the watery waste: 170
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.
What is that spell, that thus his lawless train
Confess and envy--yet oppose in vain? 180
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 its 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!
'Tis Nature's doom--but let the wretch who toils,
Accuse not--hate not--_him_ who wears the spoils. 190
Oh! if he knew the weight of splendid chains,
How light the balance of his humbler pains!

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 eyebrow shades a glance of fire:
Robust but not Herculean--to the sight
No giant frame sets forth his common height;
Yet, in the whole, who paused to look again,
Saw more than marks the crowd of vulgar men; 200
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. [hn]
Though smooth his voice, and calm his general mien,
Still seems there something he would not have seen:
His features' deepening lines and varying hue
At times attracted, yet perplexed the view, 210
As if within that murkiness of mind
Worked feelings fearful, and yet undefined;
Such might it be--that none could truly tell--
Too close inquiry his stern glance would quell.
There breathe but few whose aspect might defy
The full encounter of his searching eye;
He had the skill, when Cunning's gaze would seek[ho]
To probe his heart and watch his changing cheek,
At once the observer's purpose to espy,
And on himself roll back his scrutiny, 220
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! [200]

X. [201]

Slight are the outward signs of evil thought,
Within--within--'twas there the spirit wrought!
Love shows all changes--Hate, Ambition, Guile,
Betray no further than the bitter smile; 230
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 tread, 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:
Then--with each feature working from the heart,
With feelings, loosed to strengthen--not depart, 240
That rise--convulse--contend--that freeze or glow,[hp]
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! [hq]
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?

XI.

Yet was not Conrad thus by Nature sent
To lead the guilty--Guilt's worse instrument-- 250
His soul was changed, before his deeds had driven
Him forth to war with Man and forfeit Heaven.
Warped 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,
Doomed by his very virtues for a dupe,
He cursed those virtues as the cause of ill,
And not the traitors who betrayed him still;
Nor deemed that gifts bestowed on better men
Had left him joy, and means to give again. 260
Feared--shunned--belied--ere Youth had lost her force,
He hated Man too much to feel remorse,
And thought the voice of Wrath a sacred call,
To pay the injuries of some on all.
He knew himself a villain--but he deemed
The rest no better than the thing he seemed;
And scorned the best as hypocrites who hid
Those deeds the bolder spirit plainly did.
He knew himself detested, but he knew
The hearts that loathed him, crouched and dreaded too. 270
Lone, wild, and strange, he stood alike exempt
From all affection and from all contempt:
His name could sadden, and his acts surprise;
But they that feared him dared not to despise:
Man spurns the worm, but pauses ere he wake
The slumbering venom of the folded snake:
The first may turn, but not avenge the blow;
The last expires, but leaves no living foe;
Fast to the doomed offender's form it clings,
And he may crush--not conquer--still it stings! [202] 280

XII.

None are all evil--quickening round his heart,
One softer feeling would not yet depart;
Oft could he sneer at others as beguiled
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 shunned, nor sought, but coldly passed them by; 290
Though many a beauty drooped in prisoned bower,
None ever soothed his most unguarded hour,
Yes--it was Love--if thoughts of tenderness,
Tried in temptation, strengthened by distress,
Unmoved by absence, firm in every clime,
And yet--Oh more than all! --untired by Time;
Which nor defeated hope, nor baffled wile,
Could render sullen were She near to smile,
Nor rage could fire, nor sickness fret to vent
On her one murmur of his discontent; 300
Which still would meet with joy, with calmness part,
Lest that his look of grief should reach her heart;
Which nought removed, nor menaced to remove--
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! [hr]

XIII.

He paused a moment--till his hastening men
Passed the first winding downward to the glen. 310
"Strange tidings! --many a peril have I passed,
Nor know I why this next appears the last!
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;
And, if my plan but hold, and Fortune smile,
We'll furnish mourners for our funeral pile.
Aye, let them slumber--peaceful be their dreams!
Morn ne'er awoke them with such brilliant beams 320
As kindle high to-night (but blow, thou breeze! )
To warm these slow avengers of the seas.
Now to Medora--Oh! my sinking heart,[hs]
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; 330
Long have I led them--not to vainly bleed:
No medium now--we perish or succeed!
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?
Oh, Fate! --accuse thy folly--not thy fate;
She may redeem thee still--nor yet too late. " 340

XIV.

Thus with himself communion held he, till
He reached the summit of his tower-crowned hill:
There at the portal paused--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. 350

2.

"There, in its centre, a sepulchral lamp
Burns the slow flame, eternal--but unseen;
Which not the darkness of Despair can damp,
Though vain its ray as it had never been.

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--[ht]
Grief for the dead not Virtue can reprove; 360
Then give me all I ever asked--a tear,[203]
The first--last--sole reward of so much love! "

He passed the portal, crossed the corridor,
And reached the chamber as the strain gave o'er:
"My own Medora! sure thy song is sad--"

"In Conrad's absence would'st 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 unhushed--although my lips were mute! 370
Oh! many a night on this lone couch reclined,
My dreaming fear with storms hath winged the wind,
And deemed the breath that faintly fanned thy sail
The murmuring prelude of the ruder gale;
Though soft--it seemed the low prophetic dirge,
That mourned 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 outwatched each star,
And morning came--and still thou wert afar. 380
Oh! how the chill blast on my bosom blew,
And day broke dreary on my troubled view,
And still I gazed and gazed--and not a prow
Was granted to my tears--my truth--my vow!
At length--'twas noon--I hailed and blest the mast
That met my sight--it neared--Alas! it passed!
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 390
As bright as this invites us not to roam:
Thou know'st it is not peril that I fear,
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--
How strange that heart, to me so tender still,
Should war 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, 400
And scarce a glimpse of mercy from above.
Yet the same feeling which thou dost condemn,
My very love to thee is hate to them,
So closely mingling here, that disentwined,
I cease to love thee when I love Mankind:
Yet dread not this--the proof of all the past
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: 410
Thus ever fade my fairy dreams of bliss.
This hour--it cannot be--this hour away!
Yon bark hath hardly anchored in the bay:
Her consort still is absent, and her crew
Have need of rest before they toil anew;
My Love! thou mock'st my weakness; and wouldst 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 420
The feast these hands delighted to prepare;
Light toil! to cull and dress thy frugal fare!
See, I have plucked the fruit that promised best,
And where not sure, perplexed, but pleased, I guessed
At such as seemed 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: 430
Think not I mean to chide--for I rejoice
What others deem a penance is thy choice.
But come, the board is spread; our silver lamp
Is trimmed, 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,
We'll turn the tale, by Ariosto told,
Of fair Olympia loved and left of old. [204] 440
Why, thou wert worse than he who broke his vow
To that lost damsel, should thou leave me _now_--
Or even that traitor chief--I've seen thee smile,
When the clear sky showed Ariadne's Isle,
Which I have pointed 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 deceived me--for--he came again! "

"Again, again--and oft again--my Love! 450
If there be life below, and hope above,
He will return--but now, the moments bring
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 prepared:
Nor be thou lonely, though thy Lord's away, 460
Our matrons and thy handmaids with thee stay;
And this thy comfort--that, when next we meet,
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,
Which downcast drooped in tearless agony.
Her long fair hair lay floating o'er his arms, 470
In all the wildness of dishevelled charms;
Scarce beat that bosom where his image dwelt
So full--_that_ feeling seem'd almost unfelt!
Hark--peals the thunder of the signal-gun!
It told 'twas sunset, and he cursed that sun.
Again--again--that form he madly pressed,
Which mutely clasped, imploringly caressed! [hu]
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, 480
Kissed her cold forehead--turned--is Conrad gone?

XV.

"And is he gone? "--on sudden solitude
How oft that fearful question will intrude!
"'Twas but an instant past, and here he stood!
And now"--without the portal's porch she rushed,
And then at length her tears in freedom gushed;
Big, bright, and fast, unknown to her they fell;
But still her lips refused to send--"Farewell! "
For in that word--that fatal word--howe'er
We promise--hope--believe--there breathes Despair. 490
O'er every feature of that still, pale face,
Had Sorrow fixed what Time can ne'er erase:
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 flowed, and phrensied seemed to swim
Through those long, dark, and glistening lashes dewed
With drops of sadness oft to be renewed.
"He's gone! "--against her heart that hand is driven,
Convulsed and quick--then gently raised to Heaven: 500
She looked and saw the heaving of the main:
The white sail set--she dared not look again;
But turned 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 turned 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: 510
And she--the dim and melancholy Star,
Whose ray of Beauty reached him from afar,
On her he must not gaze, he must not think--
There he might rest--but on Destruction's brink:
Yet once almost he stopped--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: 520
Again he hurries on--and as he hears
The clang of tumult vibrate on his ears,
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 anchors 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 marvelled how his heart could seem so soft. 530
Fire in his glance, and wildness in his breast,
He feels of all his former self possest;
He bounds--he flies--until his footsteps reach
The verge where ends the cliff, 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, disturbed by haste, to vulgar view:
For well had Conrad learned to curb the crowd,
By arts that veil, and oft preserve the proud; 540
His was the lofty port, the distant mien,
That seems to shun the sight--and awes if seen:
The solemn aspect, and the high-born eye,
That checks low mirth, but lacks not courtesy;
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 others' gifts showed mean beside his word,
When echoed to the heart as from his own
His deep yet tender melody of tone: 550
But such was foreign to his wonted mood,
He cared not what he softened, but subdued;
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: 560
"Call Pedro here! " He comes--and Conrad bends,
With all the courtesy he deigned his friends;
"Receive these tablets, and peruse with care,
Words of high trust and truth 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. 570
Flashed the dipt oars, and sparkling with the stroke,
Around the waves' phosphoric[205] brightness broke;
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; 580
She--his Medora--did she mark the prow?
Ah! never loved he half so much as now!
But much must yet be done ere dawn of day--
Again he mans himself and turns away;
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? 590
Meantime, the steady breeze serenely blew,
And fast and falcon-like the vessel flew;
Passed 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 passed by,
And anchored where his ambush meant to lie; 600
Screened from espial by the jutting cape,
That rears on high its rude fantastic shape. [206]
Then rose his band to duty--not from sleep--
Equipped for deeds alike on land or deep;
While leaned their Leader o'er the fretting flood,
And calmly talked--and yet he talked of blood!



CANTO THE SECOND.

"Conosceste i dubbiosi desiri? "
Dante, _Inferno_, v, 120.

I.

In Coron's bay floats many a galley light,
Through Coron's lattices the lamps are bright,[207]
For Seyd, the Pacha, makes a feast to-night:
A feast for promised triumph yet to come, 610
When he shall drag the fettered Rovers home;
This hath he sworn by Allah 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;
'Tis but to sail--no doubt to-morrow's Sun
Will see the Pirates bound--their haven won!
Meantime the watch may slumber, if they will, 620
Nor only wake to war, but dreaming kill.
Though all, who can, disperse on shore and seek
To flesh their glowing valour on the Greek;
How well such deed becomes the turbaned 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 not deign to smite because they may!
Unless some gay caprice suggests the blow,
To keep in practice for the coming foe. 630
Revel and rout the evening hours beguile,
And they who wish to wear a head must smile;
For Moslem mouths produce their choicest cheer,
And hoard their curses, till the coast is clear.

II.

High in his hall reclines the turbaned Seyd;
Around--the bearded chiefs he came to lead.
Removed the banquet, and the last pilaff--
Forbidden draughts, 'tis said, he dared to quaff,
Though to the rest the sober berry's juice[208]
The slaves bear round for rigid Moslems' use; 640
The long chibouque's[209] dissolving cloud supply,
While dance the Almas[210] to wild minstrelsy.
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. 650

III.

With cautious reverence from the outer gate
Slow stalks the slave, whose office there to wait,
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. "[211]
He took the sign from Seyd's assenting eye,
And led the holy man in silence nigh.
His arms were folded on his dark-green vest,
His step was feeble, and his look deprest; 660
Yet worn he seemed of hardship more than years,
And pale his cheek with penance, not from fears.
Vowed 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 bestowed on heaven alone;
Submissive, yet with self-possession manned,
He calmly met the curious eyes that scanned;
And question of his coming fain would seek,
Before the Pacha's will allowed to speak. 670

IV.

"Whence com'st thou, Dervise? "
"From the Outlaw's den
A fugitive--"
"Thy capture where and when? "
"From Scalanova's port[212] to Scio's isle,
The Saick[213] was bound; but Allah did not smile
Upon our course--the Moslem merchant's gains
The Rovers won; our limbs have worn their chains.
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 offered chance of flight; 680
I seized the hour, and find my safety here--
With thee--most mighty Pacha! who can fear? "

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

"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; 690
I only marked the glorious Sun and sky,
Too bright--too blue--for my captivity;
And felt that all which Freedom's bosom cheers
Must break my chain before it dried my tears.
This mayst thou judge, at least, from my escape,
They little deem of aught in Peril's shape;
Else vainly had I prayed or sought the Chance
That leads me here--if eyed with vigilance:
The careless guard that did not see me fly,
May watch as idly when thy power is nigh. 700
Pacha! my limbs are faint--and nature craves
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 shall not pine where all are banqueting:
The supper done--prepare thee to reply,
Clearly and full--I love not mystery. " 710
'Twere vain to guess what shook the pious man,
Who looked not lovingly on that Divan;
Nor showed high relish for the banquet prest,
And less respect for every fellow guest.
Twas but a moment's peevish hectic passed
Along his cheek, and tranquillised as fast:
He sate him down in silence, and his look
Resumed the calmness which before forsook:
The feast was ushered in--but sumptuous fare
He shunned as if some poison mingled there. 720
For one so long condemned to toil and fast,
Methinks he strangely spares the rich repast.
"What ails thee, Dervise? eat--dost thou suppose
This feast a Christian's? or my friends thy foes?
Why dost thou shun the salt? that sacred pledge,[214]
Which, once partaken, blunts the sabre's edge,
Makes even contending tribes in peace unite,
And hated hosts seem brethren to the sight! "

"Salt seasons dainties--and my food is still
The humblest root, my drink the simplest rill; 730
And my stern vow and Order's[215] laws oppose
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;
Infringed our Order's rule, the Prophet's rage
To Mecca's dome might bar my pilgrimage. "

"Well--as thou wilt--ascetic as thou art--
One question answer; then in peace depart. 740
How many? --Ha! it cannot sure be day?
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 appalled the sight:
Up rose that Dervise--not in saintly garb, 750
But like a warrior bounding on his barb,
Dashed his high cap, and tore his robe away--
Shone his mailed breast, and flashed 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 wild confusion, and the swarthy glow
Of flames on high, and torches from below;
The shriek of terror, and the mingling yell-- 760
For swords began to clash, and shouts to swell--
Flung o'er that spot of earth the air of Hell!
Distracted, to and fro, the flying slaves
Behold but bloody shore and fiery waves;
Nought heeded they the Pacha's angry cry,
_They_ seize that Dervise! --seize on Zatanai! [216]
He saw their terror--checked the first despair
That urged him but to stand and perish there,
Since far too early and too well obeyed,
The flame was kindled ere the signal made; 770
He saw their terror--from his baldric drew
His bugle--brief the blast--but shrilly blew;
'Tis answered--"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.