"Twere vain to guess what shook the pious man,
Who look'd not lovingly on that Divan;
Nor shew'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 tranquillised as fast:
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 shunn'd as if some poison mingled there.
For one so long condemn'd 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,
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;
And my stern vow and order's 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.
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 appall'd the sight:
Up rose that Dervise-not in saintly garb,
But like a warrior bounding on his barb,
Dash'd his high cap, and tore his robe away-
Shone his mail'd 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 wild confusion, and the swarthy glow
Of flames on high, and torches from below!
*The dervises are in colleges, and of different orders, as the monks.
The shriek of terror, and the mingling yell-
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!*
He saw their terror-check'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
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.
The cloven turbans o'er the chamber spread,
And scarce an arm dare rise to guard its head:
Even Seyd, convulsed, o'erwhelm'd with rage, surprise,
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 ;+
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!
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 tiger mangling in his lair!
But short their greeting-shorter his reply-
""Tis well-but Seyd escapes-and he must die-
Much hath been done-but more remains to do-
Their galleys blaze-why not their city too?"
Quick at the word-they seized him each a torch,
And fire the dome from minaret to porch.
A stern delight was fix'd 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.
A common and not very novel effect of Mussulman anger. See "Prince Eugene's Memoirs," p. 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."
"Oh! burst the Haram-wrong not on your lives
One female form-remember-we have wives.
On them such outrage Vengeance will repay;
Man is our foe, and such 'tis ours to slay;
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 choked gasping with the volumed smoke,
But still from room to room his way he broke.
They search-they find-they save with lusty arms
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!
Brief time had Conrad now to greet Gulnare,*
Few words to re-assure 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,
Compared with his, the Corsair's roving crew,
And blushes o'er his error, as he eyes
The ruin wrought by panic and surprise.
Alla il Alla! Vengeance swells the cry-
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 flow'd 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 repell'd:
"One effort--one-to break the circling host!"
They form-unite-charge-waver-all is lost!
Within a narrower ring compress'd, beset,
Hopeless, 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,
And sinks out wearied rather than o'ercome,
His last faint quittance rendering with his breath,
Till the blade glimmers in the grasp of death!
*Gulnare, a female name. It means, literally, the flower of the pomegranate.
"Oh! burst the Haram-wrong
One female form-remember-w
On them such outrage Vengeance
Man is our foe, and such 'tis our
But still we spared-must spare
Oh! I forgot-but Heaven will
If at my word the helpless cease
Follow who will-I go-we yet
Our souls to lighten of at least
He climbs the crackling stair-
Nor feels his feet glow scorching
His breath choked gasping with
But still from room to room hi
They search-they find-they
Each bears a prize of unregarde
Calm their loud fears; sustain
With all the care defenceless b
So well could Conrad tame the
And check the very hands wit
But who is she? whom Conrad
From reeking pile and combat
Who but the love of him he de
The Haram queen-but still ti
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