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It might be only that the night
Than live thits nothing now to thee; Disguised things seen by better light: Perhaps far worse, for now I know That brazen lamp but dimly threw Why Giaffir always seem'd thy foe; A ray of no celestial hue;
And I, alas! am Giaffir's child, But in a nook within the cell
For whom thou wert conteinnd, reviled. Her eye on stranger objects fell.
If not thy sister--wouldst thoni save There arms were piled, not such as yield My life, oh! bid me be thy slave!" The turban'd Delis in the field; But brands of foreign blade and hilt, “My slave Zuleika!-nay, I'm thinc: And one was red--perchance with guilt! But, gentle love, this transport calm, Ah! how without can blood he spilt? Thy lot shall yet be link'd with mine; A cup too on the board was se:
I swear it by our Prophet's shrine, That did not seem to hold sherbet.
And be that thought thy sorrow's balm. What may this mean? she turn’d to see So may the Koran-verse display'd Her Selim-“Oh! can this be he?" Upon its steel direct my blade,
In danger's hour to guard us both, ilis robe of pride was thrown aside,
As I preserve that awful oath! His brow no high-crown'd turban bore,
The name in which thy heart hath pride But in its stead a shawl of red,
Must change; but, my Zuleika, kaow, Wreathed lightly round, his temples wore :
That tie is widen'd, not divided, That dagger, on whose hilt the gem
Althongh thy Sire's my deadliest foe. Were worthy of a diadem,
My Father was to Giaffir all No longer glitter'd at his waist,
That Selim late was deem'd to thee; Where pistols anadorn'd were braced ;
That brother wrought a brother's fall, And from his belt a sabre swung,
But spared, at least, my infancy; And from his shoulder loosely hung
And lulld me with a vain deceit The cloak of white, the thin capote
That yet a like return may mect. That decks the wandering Candiote:
lle rear’d me, not with tender help, Beneath-his golden plated vest
But like the nephew of a Cain; Clung like a cuirass to his breast;
lle watch'd me like a lion's whelp, The greaves below his knee that wound That gnaws and yet may break his chain With silvery scales were sheathed and bound. My father's blood in every vein But were it not that high command
Is boiling; but for thy dear sake Spake in his eye, and tope, and hand,
No present vengeance will I take; All that a careless eye could see
Though here I must no more remain. In him was some young Galiongee.
But first, beloved Zuleika! hear
llow Giallir wrought this deed of fear. " I said I was n t what I seem'd;
• Ilow first their strife to rancour gre And now thou seest my words were true:
If love or envy made them foes,
In fiery spirits, slights, though few
And thoughtless, will disturb repose. I inust not see thee Osman's bride :
In war Abdallah's arın was strong,
Remember'd yet in Bosniac song,
And Paswan's rebel-hordes attest
How little love they bore such guest :
His death is all I need relate,
The stern effect of Giaflir's hate;
And how my birth disclosed to me,
Whate'er beside it makes, hath made me fre Zuleika! I am not thy brother!”
" When Paswan, after years of strife, “Oh! not my brother!- yet unsay- At last for power, but first for life, God! am I left alone on earth
In Widin's walls too proudly sate, To mourn--I dare not curse-the day Our Pacbas rallied round the state; That saw my solitary birth?
Nor last nor least in high command Oh! thou wilt love me now no more! Each brother led a separate band; My sinking heart foreboded ill;
They gave their horsetails to the wind, But know me all I was before,
And mustering in Sophia's plain
Thou ledst me here perchance to kill; To one, alas! assignd in vain!
With venom subtle as his sonl,
Dismiss'd Abdallah's hence to heaven. “All this, Zuleika, harshly sounds ; Reclined and feverish in the bath,
But harsher still my tale must be: He, when the hunter's sport was up,
Howe'er my tongue thy softness wounds, But little deemnd a brother's wrath Yet I must prove all truth to thee. To quench his thirst had such a cup:
I saw thee start this garb to see, The bowl a bribed attendant bore ;
Yet it is one I oft have worn, He drank one draught, nor needed more! And long must wear: this Galiongee, It has my tale, Zuleika, doubt,
To whom thy plighted vow is sworn, Call llaroun- he can tell it out.
Is leader of those pirate-hordes, The deed once done, and Paswan's feud Whose laws and lives are on their swords; la part suppress'd though ne'er subdued, To bear whose desolating tale Abdallah's Pachalick was gaind :
Would make thy waning cheek more pale: Thoa kosust not what in our Divan Those arms thou seest my band have Can wealth procure for worse than man
brought, Abdallah's honours were obtain'd
The hands that wield are not remote; By hin a brother's murder stain'd; This cup too for the rugged knaves Tis trae. the purchase nearly drain'd Is fillid |--once quaff'd, they ne'er repine : His ill got treasure, soon replaced, Our Prophet might forgive the slaves; Neuldst question whence?Survey the waste, They're only infidels in wine. And ak the squalid peasant how His gains repay his broiling brow!-
“ What could I be? Proscribed at livme, Why me the stern usurper spared,
And taunted to a wish to roam;
And listless left for Giaffir's fear
Though oft-Oh, Mahomet ! how oft!him whom Heaven accorded none,
In full Divan the despot scoff’d, breme unknown cabal, caprice,
As if my weak unwilling hand
Refused the bridle or the brand : buried me thus ;-but not in peace:
He ever went to war alone, k cannot curb his haughty mood,
And pent me here untried, unknown; le forgive a father's blood.
To Haroun's care with women left, Within thy father's house are foes;
By hope unblest, of fame bereft. Wat all who break his bread are true:
While thou—whose softness long endeard, Is there should I my birth disclose,
Though it unmann'd me, still had cheer'd-
To Brusa's walls for safety sent, Ho days, his very hours were few.
Awaitedst there the field's event. They only want a heart to lead,
Haroun, who saw my spirit pining
Beneath inaction's sluggish yoke,
His captive, though with dread, resigning, le in Abdallah's palace grew,
My thraldom for a season broke, As held that post in his Serai
On promise to return before which holds he here-he saw him die:
The day when Giaffir's charge was o'er. ku what could single slavery do ?
Tis vain--my tongue can not impart Avenge his lord! alas! too late :
My almost drunkenness of heart, De are his son froin such a fate?
When first this liberated eye I hose the last, and when elate
Survey'd Earth, Ocean, Sun and Sky, With foes subdued, or friends betray'd,
As if my spirit pierced them through,
And all their inmost wonders knew! Hand Giaffir in high triumph sate, le led me helpless to his gate,
One word alone can paint to thee lad not in vain it seems essay'd
That more than feeling-I was Free! la cave the life for which he pray'd.
E’en for thy presence ceased to pine;
Heaven itself was The bnowledge of my birth secured
mine! foti all and each, but most from me; Taxi Giaffir's safety was ensured. med he too from Roumelie
** The shallop of a trusty Moor Puthis our Asiatic side,
Convey'd me from this idle shore ; Su from our seats by Danube's tide, I longd to see the isles that gem W none but Haroun, who retains Old Ocean's purple diadem: en knowledge--and that Nubian feels I sought by turns, and saw them all ; trrant's secrets are but chains
But when and where I join'd the crew, from which the captive gladly steals, With whom I'm pledged to rise or fall, ind this and inore to me reveals:
When all that we design to do Sort still to guilt just Alla sends
Is done, 'twill then be time more meet Staren, tools, accomplices, no friends! To tell thee, when the tale's complete.
“ Tis true, they are a lawless brood, Though fortune frown, or falser friene But rough in form, nor mild in mood;
betray. And every creed, and every race,
How dear the dream in darkest hours of il With them hath found—may find a place: Should all be changed, to find thee faithf But open speech, and ready hand,
still! Obedience to their chief's command, Be but thy soul, like Selim's, firmly show A soul for every enterprize,
To thee be Selim's tender as thine own; That never sees with terror's eyes, To soothe each sorrow,share in each deligh Friendship for each, and faith to all, Blend every thought, do all—but disunite And vengeance vow'd for those who fall, Once free, 'tis mine our horde again to guid Have made them fitting instruments Friends to each other, foes to aught beside For more than even my own intents. Yet there we follow but the bent assign And some—and I have studied all
By fatal nature to man's warring kind : Distinguish'd from the vulgar rank, Mark! where his carnage and his conquest But chiefly to my council call
cease! The wisdom of the cautious Frank- He makes a solitude, and calls it-peace And some to higher thoughts aspire, I like the rest must use my skill or strengti The last of Lambro's patriots there But ask no land beyond my sabre's length Anticipated freedom share;
Power sways but by division-her resour And oft around the cavern-fire
The blest alternative of fraud or force! On visionary schemes debate,
Ours be the last; in time deceit may con To snatch the Rayahs from their fate. When cities cage us in a social home : So let them ease their hearts with prate There even thy soul might err-how o Of equal rights, which man ne'er knew ;
the heart I have a love for freedom too.
Corruption shakes which peril could no Ay! let me like the Ocean-Patriarch roam, Or only know on land the Tartar's home! And woman, more than man, when deat My tent on shore, my galley on the sea, Are more than cities and Serais to me: Or even Disgrace would lay her lover los Borne by my steed, or wafted by my sail, Sunk in the lap of Luxury will shameAcross the desert, or before the gale, Away suspicion !-- not Zuleika's name! Bound where thou wilt, my barb! or glide, But life is hazard at the best; and here
No more remains to win, and much to fea But be the star that guides the wanderer, Yes, fear !--the doubt, the dread of losir Thou !
thee, Thou my Zuleika, share and bless my bark; By Osman's power and Giaffir's stern decre The Dove of peace and promise to mine ark! That dread shall vanish with the favouri Or, since that hope denied in worlds of strife,
gale, Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life! Which Love to-night hath promised to si The evening-beam that smiles the clouds
sail : away,
No danger daunts the pair his smile ha And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray!
blest, Blest—as the Muezzin's strain from Mecca's Their steps still roving, but their hear wall
at rest. To pilgrims pure and prostrate at his call: With thee all toils are sweet, each clin Soft-as the melody of youthful days,
hath charms; That steals the trembling tear of speechless Earth-sea alike-our world within ou praise;
arms! Dear-as his native song to Exile's ears, Ay, let the loud winds whistle o'er the dec Shall sound each tone thy long-loved voice so that those arms cling closer round i endears,
neck: For thee in those bright isles is built a bower The deepest murmur of this lip shall be Blooming as Aden in its earliest hour. No sigh for safety, but a prayer for the A thousand swords, with Selim's heart and The war of elements no fears impart
To love, whose deadliest bane is human Ar Wait wave - defend – destroy - at thy There lie the only rocks our course can check
command ! Here moments menace - there are years Girt by my band, Zuleika at my side,
wreck! The spoil of nations shall bedeck my bride. But hence ye thoughts that rise in Horror The Haram's languid years of listluss ease
shape! Are well resign'd for cares---for joys like This hour bestows, or ever bars escape.
Few words remain of mine my tale to close Not blind to fate, I see, where'er 1 rove, Of thine but one to waft us from our foes Unnumher'd perils--but one only love! Yea - foes -- to me will Giaffir's hate decline Yet well my toilsshall that fond breast repay, I And jo not Osman, who would part us, thine - His head and faith from doubt and death | Farewell, Zuleika!-Sweet! retire : Retard in time my guard to save; Yet stay within—here linger safe, fes heard, none told, that o'er the wave At thee his rage will only chafe. Frem isle to isle I roved the while: Stir not-lest even to thee perchance And since, though parted from my band Some erring blade or ball should glance. Twieldom now I leave the land,
Fear'st thou for him?--may I expire Je deed they've done, nor deed shall do, If in this strife I seek thy sire! Ere I have heard and doom'd it too : No—though by him that poison pour'd; lion the plan, decree the spoil,
No—though again he call me coward!
But tamely shall I meet their steel?
One bound he made, and gain'd the sand : To-martin Osman with his train
Already at his feet hath sunk
The foremost of the prying band,
A swarming circle of his foes;
From right to left his path he cleft, Waldst thou recal thy willing vow, And almost met the meeting wave: Appallt by truths imparted now,
His boat appears—not five oars' length Here rest I-not to see thee wed :
His comrades strain with desperate strength. Bet be that peril on my head!”
Oh! are they yet in time to save?
His feet the foremost breakers lave; laleika, mute and motionless,
His band are plunging in the bay, Sand like that statue of distress,
Their sabres glitter through the spray ; Bez , her last hope for ever gone,
Wet-wild-unwearied to the strand De mother harden'd into stone;
They struggle—now they touch the land! Via the maid that eye could see
They come--'tis but to add to slanghter
His heart's best blood is on the water!
Escaped from shot, unharm’d by steel, bezath the garden's wicket porch Or scarcely grazed it's force to feel, fx fashid on high a blazing torch! Had Selim won, betray'd, beset, deather — and another and another- To where the strand and billows met: more-yet now my more than There as his last step left the land, brother!”
And the last death-blow dealt his handfa. vide, through every thicket spread, Ah! wherefore did he turn to look The fearful lights are gleaming red; For her his eye but sought in vain ? be there alone-for each right hand That pause, that fatal gaze he took, be ready with a sheathless brand.
Hath doom’d his death, or fix'd his chain. Dot part, pursue, return, and wheel Sad proof, in peril and in pain, With searching flambeau, shining steel; How late will Lover's hope remain! And last of all, his sabre waving,
His back was to the dashing spray, kon Giaffir in his fury raving:
Behind, but close, his comrades lay, day tow almost they touch the cave- When, at the instant, hiss'd the ball o past that grot be Selim's grave? “So may the foes of Giaffir fall!”
Whose voice is heard? whose carbine rang? bauntless he stood — " Tis come—soon
Whose bullet through the night-air sang,
Too nearly, deadly aim'd to err? pastGae kiss, Zuleika— 'tis my last :
Tis thine-Abdallah's Murderer! Bert vet my band not far from shore
The father slowly rued thy hate, o hear this signal, see the flash;
The son hath found a quicker fate: fel tow too few-the attempt were rash:
Fast from his breast the blood is bubbling, alter- yet one effort more.”
The whiteness of the sea-foam troubling ford to the cavern-mouth he stept;
If anght his lips essay'd to groan, Hopitol's echo rang on high.
The rushing billows choak'd the tone!
Few trophies of the fight are there:
That strand of strife may bear,
Steps stamp'd ; and dash d into the sand | Thought of the gloomy day and gha The print of many a straggling hand
night, May there be mark'd; nor far remote That dreads the darkness, and yet loat A broken torch, an oarless boat;
the light, And tangled on the weeds that heap That winds around, and tears the quiver The beach where shelving to thee deep
heart! There lies a white Capote!
Ah! wherefore not consume it - and depa Tis rent in twain-one dark-red stain Woe to thee, rash and unrelenting chie The wave yet ripples o'er in vain : Vainly thou heap'st the dust upon thy be But where is he who wore?
Vainly the sackcloth o'er thy limbs de Ye! who would o'er his relics weep
spread: Go, seek them where the surges sweep
By that same hand Abdallah - Selim ble Their burthen round Sigæum's steep Now let it tear thy beard in idle grief: And cast on Lemnos' shore:
Thy pride of heart, thy bride for Osına The sea-birds shriek above the prey, O'er which their hungry beaks delay, She, whom thy sultan had but seen As shaken on his restless pillow, His head heaves with the heaving billow; Thy Daughter's dead ! That hand, whose motion is not life, Hope of thine age, thy twilight's lop Yet feebly seems to menace strife,
beam, Flung by the tossing tide on high, The Star hath set that shone on Hel Then levell’d with the wave
stream. What recks it, though that corse shall lie What quench'd its rays ? - the blood Within a living grave?
thou hast shed The bird that tears that prostrate form Hark! to the hurried question of Despa Hath only robb’d the meaner worm; “Where is my child?” an Echo answer The only heart, the only eye
“Where?" Had bled or wept to see him die, Had seen those scatter'd limbs composed, Within the place of thousand tombs And mourn'd above his turban-stone, That shine beneath, while dark above That heart hath burst-that eye was closed — The sad but living cypress glooms Yea-closed before his own!
And withers not, though branch and lei
Are stamp'd with an eternal grief,
Even in that deadly grove
It looks as planted by Despair-
To-morrow sees it bloom again! Thou didst not view thy Selim fall ! The stalk some spirit gently rears, That fearful moment when he left the cave And waters with celestial tears; Thy heart grew chill:
For well may maids of Helle deem He was thy hope-thy joy- thy love-thine That this can be no earthly flower,
Which inocks the tempest's withering die And that last thought on him thou couldst And buds unshelter'd by a bower;
Nordroops, though spring refuse her show Sufficed to kill;
Vor woos the summer-beam : Burst forth in one wild cry—and all was still. To it the livelong night there sings Peace to thy broken heart, and virgin-grave! A bird unseen -- but not remote: Ah! happy! but of life to lose the worst ! Invisible his airy wings, That grief - though deep-though fatal - But soft as harp that Houri strings
was thy first ! His long entrancing note! Thrice happy! ne'er to feel nor fear the force It were the Bulbul; but his throat, of absence, shame, pride, hate, revenge, Though mournful, pours not such a stra
For they who listen cannot leave And, oh! that pang where more than Mad- | The spot, but linger there and griove
As if they loved in vain! The worm that will not sleep- and never And yet so sweet the tears they shed.
'Tis sorrow so unmix'd with dread,