felt;

With sabre keen, or blunt jereed.

And knowst thou not who loves thee best? The Kislar only and his Moors

Oh, Selim dear! Oh, more than dearest! Watch well the Haram's massy doors. Say, is it me thou hat'st or fearest?

Come, lay thy head upon my breast,

And I will kiss thee into rest, His head was leant upon his hand, Since words of mine, and songs must fail His eye look’d o'er the dark blue water Even from my fabled nightingale. That swiftly glides and gently swells I knew our sire at times was stern, Between the winding Dardanelles;

But this from thee had yet to learn: But yet he saw nor sea nor strand

Too well I know he loves thee not;
Nor even his Pacha's turban'd band

But is Zuleika's love forgot ?
Mix in the game of mimic slaughter, Ah! deem I right? the Pacha's plan-
Careering cleave the folded felt

This kinsman Bey of Carasman
With sabre-stroke right sharply dealt;

Perhaps inay prove some foe of thine. Nor mark'd the javelin-darting crowd,

If so, I swear by Mecca's shrine, Nor heard their Ollahs wild and loud

If shrines that ne'er approach allow He thought but of old Gialfir's daughter! To woman's step admit her vow,

Without thy free consent, command, No word from Selim's bosom broke;

The Sultan should not have my hand!

Think'st thou that I could bear to part One sigh Zuleika's thought bespoke: Still gazed he through the lattice grate,

With thee, and learn to halve my heart?

Ah! were 1 sever'd from thy side,
Pale, mute, and mournfully sedate.
To him Zuleika's eye was turn’d,

Where were thy friend-and who my guide?

Years have not seen, Time shall not see But little from his aspect learn’d: Equal her grief, yet not the same;

The hour that tears my soul from thee:

Even Azrael, from his deadly quiver Her heart confess'd a gentler flame:

When flies that shaft, and fly it must, But yet that heart alarm’d or weak, She knew not why, forbade to speak.

That parts all else, shall doom for ever

Our hearts to undivided dust!" Yet speak she must, but when essay ? “How strange he thus should turn away!

He lived-he breathed- he moved-he Not thus we e'er before have met; Not thus shall be our parting yet.” Thrice paced she slowly through the room, His trance was gone-his keen eye shone

He raised the maid from where she knelt: And watch'd his eye-it still was fix'd : She snatch'd the urn wherein was mix'd

With thoughts that long in darkness dwelt; The Persian Atar-gul's perfume,

With thoughts that burn-in rays that melt.

As the stream late conceal'd
And sprinkled all its odours o’er
The pictured roof and marble floor:

By the fringe of its willows,
The drops, that through his glittering vest in the light of its billows;

When it rushes reveal'd
The playful girl's appeal addrest,

As the bolt bursts on high
Unheeded o'er his bosom flew,
As if that breast were marble too.

From the black cloud that bound it,

Flash'd the soul of that eye “What, sullen yet? it must not beOh! gentle Selim, this from thee!”

Through the long lashes round it.

A warhorse at the trumpet's sound,
She saw in curious order set
The fairest flowers of Eastern land

A lion roused by heedless hound
He loved them once; may touch them yet, By graze of ill-directed knife,

A tyrant waked to sudden strife
If offer'd by Zuleika's hand.”
The childish thought was hardly breathed Starts not to more convulsive life

Than he, who heard that vow, display'd, Before the rose was pluck'd and wreathed; • The next fond moment saw her seat

And all, before repress'd, betray'd:

“Now thou art mine, for ever mine, Her fairy form at Selim's feet: “This rose to calm my brother's cares

With life to keep, and scarce with life resign, A message from the Bulbul bears ;

Now thou art mine, that sacred oath, It says to-night he will prolong

Though sworn by one, hath bound us both. For Selim's ear bis sweetest song;

Yes, fondly, wisely hast thou done;

That vow hath saved more heads than one: And though his note is somewhat sad, He'll try for once a strain more glad,

But blench not thou—thy simplest tress

Claims more from me than tenderness;
With some faint hope his alter'd lay
May sing these gloomy thoughts away.

I would not wrong the slenderest hair
That clusters round thy forehead fair,

For all the treasures buried far **What! not receive my foolish flower? Within the caves of Istakar. Nay then I am indeed unblest :

This morning clouds npon me lower'd. On me can thus thy forehead lower? Reproaches on my head were showerd,

And Giaffir almost call'd me coward ! The partner of her infancy!
Now I have motive to be brave;

These cherish'd thoughts with life begun, The son of his neglected slave,

Say, why must I no more avow ? Nay, start not, 'twas the term he gave, What change is wrought to make me shun May show, though little apt to vaunt, The truth; my pride, and thine till now? A heart his words nor deeds can daunt. To meet the gaze of stranger's eyes His son, indeed !-yet, thanks to thee, Our law, our creed, our God denies; Perchance I am, at least shall be; Nor shall one wandering thought of mine But let our plighted secret vow

At such, our Prophet's will, repine: Be only known to us as now.

No! happier made by that decree! I know the wretch who dares demand He left me all in leaving thee. From Giaffir thy reluctant hand;

Deep were my anguish, thus compellid More ill-got wealth, a meaner soul To wed with one I ne'er beheld: Holds not a Musselim's control :

This wherefore should I not reveal ? Was he not bred in Egripo ?

Why wilt thou urge me to conceal ? A viler race let Israel show!

I know the Pacha's haughty mood But let that pass——to none be told To thee hath never boded good; Our oath; the rest shall time unfold. And he so often storms at nought, To me and mine leave Osman Bey;

Allah! forbid that e’er he ought! I've partizans for peril's day:

And why I know not, but within Think not I am what I appear;

My heart concealment weighs like sin. I've arms, and friends, and vengeance near." If then such secrecy be crime,

And such it feels while lurking here, “Think not thou art what thou appearest! Oh, Selim! tell me yet in time, My Selim, thou art sadly changed: Nor leave me thus to thoughts of fear. This morn I saw thee gentlest, dearest; Ah! yonder see the Tchocadar, But now thou’rt from thyself estranged. My father leaves the mimic war; My love thou surely knewst before,

I tremble now to meet his eyeIt ne'er was less, nor can be more.

Say, Selim, canst thou tell me why?" To see thee, hear thee, near thee stay, And hate the night I know not why, Save that we meet not but by day;

“Zuleika! to thy tower's retreat

Betake thee—Giaffir I can greet: With thee to live, with thee to die,

And now with him I fain must prate I dare not to my hope deny:

Of firmans, imposts, levies, state. Thy cheek, thine eyes, thy lips to kiss,

There's fearful news from Danube's banks ; Like this, and this—no more than this;

Our Vizier nobly thins his ranks,
For, Alla! sure thy lips are flame:
What fever in thy veins is flushing ?

For which the Giaour may give him thanks!

Our Sultan hath a shorter way My own have nearly caught the same,

Such costly triumph to repay. At least I feel my cheek too blushing. To soothe thy sickness, watch thy health, Hath warn’d the troops to food and sleep,

But, mark me, when the twilight-drum Partake, but never waste thy wealth, Or stand with smiles unmurmuring by,

Unto thy cell will Selim come:

Then softly from the Haram creep
And lighten half thy poverty;
Do all but close thy dying eye,

Where we may wander by the deep :
For that I could not live to try;

Our garden-battlements are steep,

Nor these will rash intruder climb To these alone my thoughts aspire:

To list our words, or stint our time,
More can I do? or thou require?

And if he doth, I want not steel
But, Selim, thou must answer why
We need so much of mystery ?

Which some have felt, and more may feel.

Then shalt thou learn of Selim more The cause I cannot dream nor tell,

Than thou hast heard or thought before; But be it, since thou say'st 'tis well;

Trust me, Zuleika- fear not me! Yet what thou meanst by

and
“friends,"

Thou knowst I hold a Haram-key."
Beyond my weaker sense extends.
I meant that Giaffir should have heard

"Fear thee, my Selim! ne'er till now The very vow I plighted thee;

Did word like this—" His wrath would not revoke my word:

“Delay not thou, But surely he would leave me free. I keep the key—and Haroun's guard Can this fond wish seem strange in me, Have some, and hope of more reward. To be what I have ever been ?

To-night, Zuleika, thou shalt hear
What other hath Zuleika seen

My tale, my purpose, and my fear:
From simple childhood's earliest hour ? I am not, love! what I appear."
What other can she seek to see
Than thee, companion of her bower,

66
arms

CANTO II.

Till then-no beacon on the cliff

May shape the course of struggling skiff; The winds are high on Helle’s wave,

The scatter'd lights that skirt the bay,

All, one by one, have died away;
As on that night of storiny water
When Love, who sent, forgot to save

The only lamp of this lone hour
The young, the beautiful, the brave,

Is glimmering in Zuleika's tower.
The lonely hope of Sestos' daughter.
Oh! when alone along the sky

Yes ! there is light in that lone chamber, Her turret-torch was blazing high,

And o'er her silken Ottoman Though rising gale, and breaking foam,

Are thrown the fragrant beads of amber, And shrieking sea-birds warn'd him home, O'er which her fairy fingers ran; And clouds aloft and tides below,

Near these, with emerald-rays beset, With signs and sounds forbade to go, (How could she thus that gem forget ?) He could not see, he would not hear Her mother's sainted amulet, Or sound or sign fo feboding fear;

Whereon engraved the Koorsee text, His eye but saw that light of love,

Could smooth this life, and win the next; The only star it haild above,

And by her Comboloio lies His ear but

rang

with Hero's song, A Koran of illumined dyes ; “Ye waves, divide not lovers long !”- And many a bright emblazon'd rhyme That tale is old, but love anew

By Persian scribes redeem'd from time ; May nerve young hearts to prove as true. And o'er those scrolls, not oft so mute,

Reclines her now neglected lute; The winds are high, and Helle's tide And round her lamp of fretted gold Rolls darkly heaving to the main;

Bloom flowers in urns of China's monld; And Night's descending shadows hide The richest work of Iran's loom, That field with blood bedew'd in vain,

And Sheeraz' tribute of perfume; The desert of old Priam's pride;

All that can eye or sense delight The tombs, sole relics of his reign, Are gather'd in that gorgeous room: All – save immortal dreams that could But yet it hath an air of gloom.

beguile

She, of this Peri-cell the sprite, The blind old man of Scio's rocky isle!

What doth she hence, and on so rude a night?

Oh! yet – for there my steps have been ;

Wrapt in the darkest sable vest, These feet have press'd the sacred shore,

Which none save noblest Moslem wear, These limbs that buoyant wave hath borne- To guard from winds of heaven the breast Minstrel! with thee to muse, to mourn,

As heaven itself to Selim dear, To trace again those fields of yore,

With cautious steps the thicket threading, Believing every hillock green

And starting oft, as through the glade Contains no fabled hero's ashes,

The gust its hollow moanings made, And that around the undoubted scene

Till on the smoother pathway trcading, Thine own“ broad Hellespont” still dashes, More free her timid bosom beat, Be long my lot! and cold were he

The maid pursued her silent guide ;
Who there could gaze denying thee!

And though her terror urged retreat
How could she quit her Selim's side?

How teach her tender lips to chide 1
The night hath closed on Helle's stream,
Nor yet hath risen on Ida's hill
That moon, which shone on his high theme: They reach'd at length a grotto, hewn
No warrior chides her peaceful beam, By nature, but enlarged by art,
But conscious shepherds bless it still. Where oft her lute she wont to tune
Their flocks are grazing on the mound

And oft her Koran conn'd apart; Of him who felt the Dardan's arrow: And oft in youthful reverie That mighty heap of gather'd ground She dream'd what Paradise might be : Which Ammon's son ran proudly round, Where woman's parted soul shall go By nations raised, by monarchs crown'd, Her Prophet had disdain'd to show; Is now a lone and nameless barrow! But Selim's mansion was secure, Within-thy dwelling-place how narrow! Nor deem'd she, could he long endure Without-can only strangers breathe His bower in other worlds of bliss, The name of him that was beneath: Without her, most beloved in this! Dust long outlasts the storied stone; Oh! who so dear with him could dwell! But Thou-thy very dust is gone!

What Houri soothe him half so well?

Late, late to-night will Dian cheer Since last she visited the spot
The swain, and chase the boatman's fear; Some change seem'd wrought within the grot:

It might be only that the night

Than live thus 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 contemn'd, reviled.
Her eye on stranger objects fell.

If not thy sister-wouldst thou save
There arms were piled, not such as wield My life, oh! bid me be thy slave!”
The turband Delis in the field;
But brands of foreign blade and hilt, “My slave Zuleika!-nay, I'm thine:
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 set

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, His 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 prided But in its stead a shawl of red,

Must change; but, my Zuleika, know, Wreathed lightly round, his temples wore :

That tie is widen'd, not divided, That dagger, on whose hilt the gem

Although 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 unadorn'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 lull'd me with a vain deceit The cloak of white, the thin capote

That yet a like return may meet. That decks the wandering Candiote:

He 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;

He 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 tone, 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 Galiongée.

But first, beloved Zuleika! hear

How Giaffir wrought this deed of fear. " I said I was not what I seemid;

" How first their strife to rancour grew, And now thou seest iny words were true:

If love or envy made them foes, I have a tale thou hast not dream'd,

It matters little if I knew; If sooth-its truth must others rue.

In fiery spirits, slights, though few My story now 'twere vain to hide,

And thoughtless, will disturb repose. I must not see thee Osman's bride :

In war Abdallah's arm was strong, But had not thine own lips declared

Remember'd yet in Bosniac song, How much of that young heart I shared,

And Paswan's rebel-hordes attest I could not, must not, yet have shown

How little love they bore such guest : The darker secret of my own.

His death is all I need relate, In this I speak not now of love;

The stern effect of Giaffir's hate; That, let time, truth, and peril prove:

And how my birth disclosed to me, But first-Oh! never wed another

Whate'er beside it makes, hath made me free. 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 Pachas 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
Thy sister,-friend-Zuleika still. Their tents were pitch'd, their post assign'd;
Thou ledst me here perchance to kill; To one, alas! assign'd in vain !
If thou hast cause for vengeance, see ! What need of words ? the deadly bowl,
My breast is offer'd-take thy fill! By Giaffir's order drugg'd and given,
Far better with the dead to be

With venom subtle as his soul,

1

Dismiss'd Abdallah's hence to heaven. “ All this, Zuleika, harshly sounds;
Reclined and feverish in the bath, But harsher still my tale inust be:
He, when the hunter's sport was up, Howe'er my tongue thy softness wounds,
But little deem'd 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 vft have worn,
He drank one draught, nor needed more! And long must wear: this Galiongee,
If thou my tale, Zuleika, doubt,

To whom thy plighted vow is sworu, Call Haroun-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; In part suppress'd though ne'er subdued, To hear whose desolating tale Abdallah's Pachalick was gain'd :- Would make thy waning cheek more pale: Thou know'st not what in our Divan Those arins thou seest my band haro Can wealth procure for worse than man

brought, Abdallah's honours were obtain'd

The hands that wield are not reinote; By him a brother's murder stain'd; This cup too for the rugged knaves Tis true, the purchase nearly drain'd Is fill'd-once quaftyd, they ne'er repine: His ill got treasure, soon replaced, Our Prophet might forgive the slaves; Wouldst question whence?Survey the waste, They're only infidels in wine. And ask the squalid peasant how His gains repay his broiling brow!

* What could I be? Proscribed at home, Why me the stern usurper spared,

And taunted to a wish to roam; Why thus with me his palace shared,

And listless left- for Giaffir's fear
I know not. Shame, regret, remorse,

Denied the courser and the spear-
And little fear from infant's force;
Besides, adoption as a son

Though oft-Oh, Mahomet ! how oft! By him whom Heaven accorded none,

In full Divan the despot scoff’d, Or some unknown cabal, caprice,

As if my weak unwilling hand

Refused the bridle or the brand :
Preserved me thus ;--but not in peace:
He cannot curb his haughty mood,

He ever went to war alone,
Nor I forgive a father's blood.

And pent me here untried, unknown;

To Haroun's care with women left, “ Within thy father's house are foes ;

By hope unblest, of fame berest. Not all who break his bread are true :

While thou—whose softness long endear'd, To these should I my birth disclose,

Though it unmann'd me, still had cheerd

To Brusa's walls for safety sent,
His days, his very hours were few.

Awaitedst there the field's event.
They only want a heart to lead,
A hand to point them to the deed.

Haroun, who saw my spirit pining
But Haroun only knows, or knew

Beneath inaction's sluggish yoke, This tale, whose close is almost nigh:

His captive, though with dread, resigning, He in Abdallah's palace grew,

My thraldom for a season broke, And 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. But what could single slavery do?

'Tis vain-my tongue can not impart

My almost drunkenness of heart,
Avenge his lord! alas! too late :

When first this liberated eye
Or save his son from such a fate?
He chose 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!
Proud Giaffir in high triumph sate,
He led me helpless to his gate,

One word alone can paint to thee
And not in vain it seems essay'd

That more than feeling--I was Free!
To save the life for which he pray'd.

E'en for thy presence ceased to pine ;
The World

nay

Heaven itself was The knowledge of my birth secured

mine!
From all and each, but most from me;
Thus Giaffir's safety was ensured.
Removed he too from Roumelie

“ The shallop of a trusty Moor To this onr Asiatic side,

Convey'd me from this idle shore ;
Far from our seats by Danube's tide, I long'd to see the isles that gem
With none but Haroun, who retains Old Ocean's purple diadem:
Such knowledge—and that Nubian feels I sought by turns, and saw them all ;
A tyrant's secrets are but chains

But when and where I joind the crew, From which the captive gladly steals, With whom I'm pledged to rise or fall, And this and more to me reveals:

When all that we design to do Such still to guilt just Alla sends

Is done, 'twill then be time more meet Slaves, tools, accomplices- no friends! To tell thee, when the tale's coinplete.