"Pacha! the day is thine; and on thy crest Sits Triumph Conrad taken -fall'n the rest! His doom is fix'd he dies: and well his fate Was earn'd—yet much too worthless for thy hate : Methinks, a short release, for ransom told With all his treasure, not unwisely sold; Report speaks largely of his pirate-hoard - Would that of this my Pacha were the lord! While baffled, weaken'd by this fatal fray Watch'd - follow'd -
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 Were offer'd 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 It had not now redeem'd 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."
that gold should not redeem!
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."
and shall I then resign the wretch already mine? at whose remonstrance? to thy virtuous gratitude,
One day to him Release my foe! Fair suitor!
That thus repays this Giaour's relenting mood, Which thee and thine alone of all could spare, No doubt
- regardless if the prize were fair,
My thanks and praise alike are due 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, wert thou lingering there with him to fly? 'Thou need'st not answer - thy confession speaks, Already reddening on thy guilty cheeks;
Then, lovely dame, bethink thee! and beware: 'T is 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 far - but I then had mourn'd thee with a lover's woe
Now 't is thy lord that warns deceitful thing! Know'st thou that I can clip thy wanton wing? In words alone I am not wont to chafe : Look to thyself
nor deem thy falsehood safe!"
and slowly, sternly thence withdrew, 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 incensed 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;
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!
Meanwhile-long anxious weary
Roll'd day and night — his soul could never tame This fearful interval of doubt and dread,
When every hour might doom him worse than dead, When every step that echo'd by the gate
Might entering lead where axe and stake await; When every voice that grated on his ear Might be the last that he could ever hear; Could terror tame that spirit stern and high Had proved unwilling as unfit to die;
"T was worn - perhaps decay'd
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 fix'd in fetter'd solitude,
To pine, the prey of every changing mood; 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; Before thee tortures, which the soul can dare, Yet doubts how well the shrinking flesh may 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 sustain'd he- boots it well or ill? Since not to sink beneath, is something still!
The first day pass'd — he saw not her
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 roll'd 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! Oft had he ridden on that winged wave, And loved its roughness for the speed it gave; And now its dashing echo'd 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. He raised his iron hand to Heaven, and pray'd One pitying flash to mar the form it made : His steel and impious prayer attract alike The storm roll'd onward, and disdain'd to strike; Its peal wax'd fainter ceased. he felt alone, As if some faithless friend had spurn'd his groan
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: 'T is as his heart foreboded - that fair she! Whate'er her sins, to him a guardian saint, And beauteous still as hermit's hope can paint; Yet changed since last within that cell 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 "Lady! I look to none What last proclaim'd they -
my lips proclaim 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
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 - Because despite thy crimes
It fear'd thee thank'd thee - pitied
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 hath such gentle dame to do with home? 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 poniard — rise and follow me!"
"Ayin my chains! my steps will gently tread, With these adornments, o'er each slumbering head! Thus hast forgot - is this a garb for flight? Or is that instrument more fit for fight?"
"Misdoubting Corsair! I have gain'd the guard, Ripe for revolt, and greedy for reward.
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:
- 't is none to punish those of Seyd. - he must bleed!
That hated tyrant, Conrad
I see thee shudder- but my soul is changed - Wrong'd, spurn'd, reviled and it shall be avenged- Accused 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.
'T was false thou know'st -- but let such augurs rue, Their words are omens Insult renders true. Nor was thy respite granted to my prayer; This fleeting grace was only to prepare New torments for thy life, and my despair. 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?
I saw thee loved thee owe thee all would save, If but to show how grateful is a slave.
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:
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;
'T is 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-
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