“'Twas 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 phrenzied seem'd to swim

Through those long, dark, and glistening lashes dewed

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!"

Yet once almost he stopp'd-and nearly gave
His fate to chance, his projects to the wave;
But no-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 anchor's 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 disturbed 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 court

esy;

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 other's gifts show'd mean beside his word,

When echoed 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.

Around him mustering ranged his ready guard. Before him Juan stands-"Are all prepared?" "They are-nay more - embark'd: the latest

Waits but my chief——”

boat

"My sword, and my capote." Soon firmly girded on, and lightly slung, His belt and cloak were o'er his shoulders flung;

"Call Pedro here!" He comes- 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

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 turnWhy 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 meansand 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? Mean time, 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. Then rose his band to duty-not from sleep

Equipp'd for deeds alike on land or deep; While lean'd their leader o'er the fretting flood, of

And calmly talk'd - and yet he talk'd blood!

CANTO II.

"Conosceste i dubiosi desiri?“

DANTE.

And faithful to his firman and his word, His summon'd prows collect along the coast, And great the gathering crews, and loud the boast;

Already shared the captives and the prize, Though far the distant foe they thus despise; 'Tis but to sail-no doubt to-morrow's Sun Will see the Pirates bound-their haven won!

Mean time the watch may slumber, if they will,

Nor only wake to war, but dreaming kill: Though all, who can, disperse on shore and seek To flesh their glowing valour on the Greek; How well such deed becomes the turban'd brave

To bare the sabre's edge before a slave! Infest his dwelling-but forbear to slay, Their arms are strong, yet merciful to-day, And do not deign to smite because they may!

Unless some gay caprice suggests the blow, To keep in practice for the coming foe. Revel and rout the evening-hours beguile, And they who wish to wear a head must smile,

For Moslem mouths produce their choicest cheer,

And hoard their curses, till the coast is clear.

With cautious reverence from the outer gate.

bright,

to wait, Bows his bent head-his hand salutes the floor,

Ere yet his tongue the trusted tidings bore: "A captive Dervise, from the pirate's nest Escaped, is here-himself would tell the rest."

He took the sign from Seyd's assenting eye,
And led the holy man in silence nigh.
His arms were folded on his dark green vest,
His step was feeble, and his look deprest;
Yet worn he seem'd of hardship more than
years,

And pale his cheek with penance, not from fears.

Vow'd to his God - his sable locks he wore, And these his lofty cap rose proudly o'er: Around his form his loose long robe was thrown,

And wrapt a breast bestow'd on heaven alone; Submissive, yet with self-possession mann'd, He calmly met the curious eyes that scaun'd, And question of his coming fain would seek, Before the Pacha's will allow'd to speak.

"Whence com'st thou, Dervise?"

A fugitive-"

"From the outlaw's den,

"Thy capture where and when?" "From Scalanova's port to Scio's isle The Saick was bound; but Alla did not smile

Upon our course-the Moslem merchant's gains

The Rovers won: our limbs have worn their chains.

I had no death to fear, nor wealth to boast, Beyond the wandering freedom which I lost; At length a fisher's humble boat by night Afforded hope, and offer'd chance of flight: I seized the hour, and find my safety hereWith thee-most mighty Pacha! who can fear? "

Who look'd not lovingly on that Divan;
Nor show'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 tranquillized 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?

But first ere came the rallying host to blows,

And rank to rank and hand to hand oppose,
Gulnare and all her Haram-handmaids freed,
Safe in the dome of one who held their
creed,

By Conrad's mandate safely were bestow'd,
Aud dried those tears for life and fame that
flow'd:
And when that dark-eyed lady, young
Gulnare,

Recall'd those thoughts late wandering in despair,

Much did she marvel o'er the courtesy That smoothed his accents; soften'd in his eye:

'Twas strange-that robber thus with gore bedew'd,

Seem'd gentler then than Seyd in fondest mood.

The Pacha woo'd as if he deem'd the slave Must seem delighted with the heart he gave; The Corsair vow'd protection, soothed affright,

-

As if his homage were a woman's right. "The wish is wrong nay worse for female- vain : Yet much I long to view that chief again; If but to thank for, what my fear forgot, The life - my loving lord remember'd not!"

And him she saw,

where thickest carnage spread,

But gather'd breathing from the happier dead;

Far from his band, and battling with a host That deem right dearly won the field he lost, Fell'd-bleeding - baffled of the death he sought,

And snatch'd to expiate all the ills he wrought; Preserved to linger and to live in vain, While Vengeance ponder'd o'er new plans of pain,

And staunch'd the blood she saves to shed again

But drop by drop, for Seyd's unglutted eye Would doom him ever dying-ne'er to die! Can this be he? triumphant late she saw, When his red hand's wild gesture waved, a law!

Tis he indeed-disarm❜d but undeprest, His sole regret the life he still possest; His wounds too slight, though taken with that will,

Which would have kiss'd the hand that then could kill.

Oh! were there none, of all the many given, To send his soul – he scarcely ask❜d to heaven?

Must he alone of all retain his breath, Who more than all had striven and struck for death?

He deeply felt what mortal hearts must
feel,
When thus reversed on faithless fortune's
wheel,

For crimes committed, and the victor's threat
Of lingering tortures to repay the debt —
He deeply, darkly felt; but evil pride
That led to perpetrate-now serves to hide.
Still in his stern and self-collected mien
A conqueror's more than captive's air is seen;
Though faint with wasting toil and stiff-
ening wound,

But few that saw-so calmly gazed around: Though the far shouting of the distant crowd,

Their tremors o'er, rose insolently loud, The better warriors who beheld him near, Insulted not the foe who taught them fear; And the grim guards that to his durance led, In silence eyed him with a secret dread.

The Leech was sent-but not in mercy

there

To note how much the life yet left could bear;

He found enough to load with heaviest chain, And promise feeling for the wrench of pain: To-morrow-yea-to-morrow's evening sun Will sinking see impalement's pangs begun, And rising with the wonted blush of morn Behold how well or ill those pangs are borne. Of torments this the longest and the worst,