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 't was 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,
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

--

"This hour we part!

--

we part."

my heart foreboded this:

Thus ever fade my fairy dreams of bliss.
This hour - it cannot be this hour away!
Yon bark hath hardly anchor'd 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
The feast these hands delighted to prepare ;
Light toil to cull and dress thy frugal fare!
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.
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,
We'll turn the tale, by Ariosto told,

Of fair Olympia loved and left of old. (1)

Why thou wert worse than he who broke his vow
To that lost damsel, shouldst thou leave me now;
Or even that traitor chief-I've seen thee smile,
When the clear sky show'd 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!"

66

Again - again

and oft again — my love!

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,
Our matrons and thy handmaids with thee stay;
And this thy comfort- that, when next we meet,
Security shall make repose more sweet.

List! 't is the bugle

One kiss

she sprung

Juan shrilly blew — another-Oh! Adieu!"

She rose
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 droop'd in tearless agony.
Her long fair hair lay floating o'er his arms,
In all the wildness of dishevell'd charms;
Scarce beat that bosom where his image dwelt
So full-that feeling seem'd almost unfelt!
Harkpeals the thunder of the signal-gun!
It told 't was sunset- and he cursed that sun.
Again again that form he madly press'd,
Which mutely clasp'd, imploringly caress'd!

(1) Orlando Furioso, Canto x.

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,

turn'd is Conrad gone?

"And is he gone ?""

XV.

on sudden solitude

How oft that fearful question will intrude!

"'T was 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 refused 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 fix'd 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 flow'd - and phrensied seem'd to swim Through those long, dark, and glistening lashes dew'd With drops of sadness oft to be renew’d.

"He's gone!". - against her heart that hand is driven, Convulsed 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; 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 turn'd 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 hail'd him first when homeward from the deep:
And she the dim and melancholy star,

Whose ray of beauty reach'd 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 stopp'd- and nearly gave
His fate to chance, his projects to the wave:

But not -- 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,
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 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;

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, disturb'd by haste, to vulgar view:
For well had Conrad learn'd to curb 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:
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 wish'd to win, so well unbent,
That kindness cancell'd fear in those who heard,
And others' gifts show'd mean beside his word,
When echo'd 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;
The evil passions of his youth had made
Him value less who loved than what obey'd.

XVII.

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

Soon firmly girded on,

دو

- embark'd: the latest boat

"My sword, and my capote." and lightly slung,

His belt and cloak were o'er his shoulders flung:

"Call Pedro here!" He comés -- and Conrad bends,
With all the courtesy he deign'd 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.
Flash'd the dipt oars, and sparkling with the stroke,
Around the waves' phosphoric (1) 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;
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?
Meantime, the steady breeze serenely blew,
And fast and falcon-like the vessel flew ;

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.

(1) 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.

FOL. III.-Z