"Father! for fear that thou shouldst chide

My sister, or her sable guide,
Know-for the fault, if fault there be,
Was mine, then fall thy frowns on me-
So lovelily the morning shone,

That let the old and weary sleep-
I could not; and to view alone

The fairest scenes of land and deep, With none to listen and reply

To thoughts with which my heart beat high

Were irksome for whate'er my mood, In sooth I love not solitude;

I on Zuleika's slumber broke,

And, as thou knowest that for me
Soon turns the Haram's grating key,
Before the guardian slaves awoke
We to the cypress groves had flown,
And made earth, main, and heaven qur
own!

There linger'd we, beguiled too long
With Mejnoun's tale, or Sadi's song;
Till I, who heard the deep tambour
Beat thy Divan's approaching hour,
To thee, and to my duty true,
Warn'd by the sound, to greet thee
flew;

But there Zuleika wanders yet-
Nay, Father, rage not-nor forget
That none can pierce that secret bower
But those who watch the woman's
tower."

"Son of a slave "--the Pacha said"From unbelieving mother bred, Vain were a father's hope to see Aught that beseems a man in thee. Thou, when thine arm should bend the bow,

And hurl the dart, and curb the steed,
Thou, Greek in soul if not in creed,
Must pore where babbling waters flow,
And watch unfolding roses blow.
Would that yon orb, whose matin glow
Thy listless eyes so much admire,
Would lend thee something of his fire!
Thou, who wouldst see this battlement
By Christian cannon piecemeal rent;
Nay, tamely view old Stambol's wall
Before the dogs of Moscow fall,

Nor strike one stroke for life and death
Against the curs of Nazareth!
Go-let thy less than woman's hand
Assume the distaff-not the brand.
But, Haroun !--to my daughter speed!
And hark-of thine own head take heed-
If thus Zuleika oft takes wing-
Thou see'st yon bow-it hath a string!"

No sound from Selim's lip was heard,
At least that met old Giaffir's ear.
But every frown and every word
Pierced keener than a Christian's sword.
Son of a slave !--reproach'd with
fear!

Those gibes had cost another dear.
Son of a slave !-and who my sire?"
Thus held his thoughts their dark

career;

And glances ev'n of more than ire
Flash forth, then faintly disappear.
Old Giaffir gazed upon his son

And started; for within his eye
He read how much his wrath had done;
He saw rebellion there begun :

"Come hither, boy-what, no reply?
I mark thee-and I know thee too;
But there be deeds thou dar'st not do:
But if thy beard had manlier length,
And if thy hand had skill and strength,
I'd joy to see thee break a lance,
Albeit against my own perchance."

As sneeringly these accents fell,
On Selim's eye he fiercely gazed:
That eye return'd him glance for glance
And proudly to his sire's was raised,
Till Giaffir's quail'd and shrunk as-
kance-

I'll watch him closer than before.
He is an Arab to my sight,
Or Christian crouching in the fight-
But hark!--I hear Zuleika's voice;

Like Houris' hymn it meets mine ear; She is the offspring of my choice ;

Oh! more than ev'n her mother dear, With all to hope, and nought to fearMy Peri! ever welcome here! Sweet, as the desert fountain's wave To lips just cool'd in time to save

Such to my longing sight art thoy • Nor can they waft to Mecca's shrine More thanks for life, than I for thine. Who blest thy birth and bless the now."

Was she-the daughter of that rude old Chief,

Who met the maid with tears-but not of grief.

Who hath not proved how feebly words essay

To fix one spark of Beauty's heavenly ray?

Who doth not feel, until his failing sight

Faints into dimness with its own delight,

His changing cheek, his sinking heart confess

The might, the majesty of Loveliness? Such was Zuleika, such around her shone

The nameless charms unmark'd by her alone

The light of love, the purity of grace, The mind, the Music, breathing from her face,

The heart whose softness harmonized the whole,

And oh! that eye was in itself a Soul !

Her graceful arms in meekness bending
Across her gently budding breast;
At one kind word those arms extending
To clasp the neck of him who blest
His child caressing and carest,
Zuleika came-and Giaffir felt
His purpose half within him melt:
Not that against her fancied weal
His heart though stern could ever feel;
Affection chain'd her to that heart;
Ambition tore the links apart.

"Zuleika! child of gentleness!

How dear this very day must tell,

When I forget my own distress,
In losing what I love so well,
To bid thee with another dwell:
Another and a braver man
Was never seen in battle's van.
We Moslem reck not much of blood;
But yet the line of Carasman
Unchanged, unchangeable hath stood
First of the bold Timariot bands
That won and well can keep their lands.
Enough that he who comes to woo
Is kinsman of the Bey Oglou:
His years need scarce a thought employ;
I would not have thee wed a boy.
And thou shalt have a noble dower:
And his and my united power
Will laugh to scorn the death-firman,
Which others tremble but to scan,
And teach the messenger what fate
The bearer of such boon may wait.
And now thou know'st thy father's will:
All that thy sex hath need to know:
'T was mine to teach obedience still-
The way to love, thy lord may show."
In silence bow'd the virgin's head;

And if her eye was fill'd with tears
That stifled feeling dare not shed,
And changed her cheek from pale to
red,

And red to pale, as througn her ears Those winged words like arrows sped,

What could such be but maiden fears i
So bright the tear in Beauty's eye,
Love half regrets to kiss it dry;
So sweet the blush of Bashfulness,
Even Pity scarce can wish it less!
Whate'er it was the sire forgot;
Or if remember'd, mark'd it not;
Thrice clapp'd his hands, and call'd hi
steed,

Resign'd his gem-adorn'd chibouque,
And mounting featly for the mead,
With Maugrabee and Mamaluke,
His way amid his Delis took.
To witness many an active deed
With sabre keen, or blunt jerreed.
The Kislar only and his Moors
Watch well the Haram's massy doors.

His head was leant upon his hand,

His eye look'd o'er the dark blue water

That swiftly glides and gently swells
Between the winding Dardanelles ;
But yet he saw nor sea nor strand,
Nor even his Pacha's turban'd band
Mix in the game of mimic slaughter,
Careering cleave the folded felt.

With sabre stroke right sharply dealt;
Nor nark'd the javelin-darting crowd
Nor heard their Ollahs wild and loud-
He thought but of old Giaffir's
daughter!

No word from Selim's bosom broke ;
One sigh Zuleika's thought bespoke:
Still gazed he through the lattice grate,
Pale, mute, and mournfully sedate.
To him Zuleika's eye was turn'd,
But little from his aspect learn'd:
Equal her grief, yet not the same;
Her heart confess'd a gentler flame:
But yet that heart, alarm'd or weak,
She knew not why, forbade to speak.
Yet speak she must-but when essay?
'How strange he thus should turn
away!

Not thus we e'er before have met;
Nor thus shall be our parting yet."
Thrice paced she slowly through the

room,

And watch'd his eye-it still was fix'd : She snatch'd the urn wherein was mix'd

The Persian Atar-gul's perfume,
And sprinkled all its odors o'er
The pictured roof and marble floor:
The drops, that through his glittering
vest

The playful girl's appeal address'd,
Unheeded o'er his bosom flew,
As if that breast were marble too.
"What, sullen yet? it must not be-
Oh! gentle Selim, this from thee!"
She saw in curious order set

The fairest flowers of eastern land"He loved them once: may touch them yet,

If offer'd by Zuleika's hand."

The childish thought was hardly breathed

Before the rose was pluck'd and wrea

And know'st thou not who loves thee best?

Oh, Selim dear! oh, more than dearest !
Say, is it me thou hat'st or fearest?
Come, lay thy head upon my breast,
And I will kiss thee into rest,

Since words of mine, and songs must fail,

Ev'n from my fabled nightingale.
I knew our sire at times was stern,
But this from thee had yet to learn:
Too well I know he loves thee not;
But is Zuleika's love forgot?
Ah! deem I right? the Pacha's plan-
This kinsman Bey of Carasman
Perhaps may prove some foe of thine.
If so, I swear by Mecca's shrine,-
If shrines that ne'er approach allow
To woman's step, admit her vow,-
Without thy free consent, command,
The Sultan should not have my hand!
Think'st thou that I could bear to part
With thee, and learn to halve my heart?
Ah! were I sever'd from thy side,
Where were thy friend-and who my
guide?

Years have not seen, Time shall not see
The hour that tears my soul from thee:
Ev'n Azrael, from his deadly quiver

When flies that shaft, and fly it must, That parts all else, shall doom for ever Our hearts to undivided dust!"

He lived, he breathed, he moved, he felt; He raised the maid from where she knelt;

His trance was gone, his keen eye shone With thoughts that long in darkness dwelt:

With thoughts that burn-in rays that melt.

As the stream late conceal'd

By the fringe of its willows, When it rushes reveal'd

In the light of its billows; As the bolt bursts on high

From the black cloud that bound it, Flash'd the soul of that eye

Through the long lashes round it. A war-horse at the trumpet's sound, A lion roused by heedless hound, A tyrant waked to sudden strife By graze of ill-directed knife, Starts not to more convulsive life Than he, who heard that vow, display'd, And all, before repress'd, betray'd: "Now thou art mine, for ever mine, With life to keep, and scarce with life resign;

Now thou art mine, that sacred oath, Though sworn by one, hath bound us both.

Yes, fondly, wisely hast thou done; That vow hath saved more heads than

one:

But blench not thou-thy simplest tress
Claims more from me than tenderness;
I would not wrong the slenderest hair
That clusters round thy forehead fair,
For all the treasures buried far
Within the caves of Istakar.

This morning clouds upon me lower'd,
Reproaches on my head were shower'd,
And Giaffir almost call'd me coward!
Now I have motive to be brave;
The son of his neglected slave,

Nay, start not, 'twas the term he gave,
May show, though little apt to vaunt,
A heart his words nor deeds can daunt.
His son, indeed !-yet, thanks to thee,
Perchance I am, at least shall be ;
But let our plighted secret vow
Be only known to us as now.

I know the wretch who dares demand
From Giaffir thy reluctant hand;
More ill-got wealth, a meaner soul
Holds not a Musselim's control:
Was he not bred in Egripo?
A viler race let Israel show!
But let that pass-to none be told
Our oath; the rest shall time unfold.
To me and mine leave Osman Bey;
I've partisans for peril's day:
Think not I am what I appear;
I've arms, and friends, and vengeance

near.

"Think not thou art what thou appearst! My Selim, thou art sadly changed : This morn I saw thee gentlest, dearest; But now thou'rt from thyself es tranged.

My love thou surely knew'st before,
It ne'er was less, nor can be more.
To see thee, hear thee, near thee stay,
And hate the night I know not why,
Save that we meet not but by day;

With thee to live, with thee to die,
I dare not to my hope deny :
Thy cheek, thine eyes, thy lips to kiss,
Like this-and this-no more than this;
For, Allah! sure thy lips are flame:

What fever in thy veins is flushing? My own have nearly caught the same,

At least I feel my cheek, too, blushing. To soothe thy sickness, watch thy health, Partake, but never waste thy wealth, Or stand with smiles unmurinuring by,

To be what I have ever been?
What other bath Zuleika seen
From simple childhood's earliest hour?
What other can she seek to see
Than thee, companion of her bower,
The partner of her infancy?
These cherish'd thoughts with life begun,
Say, why must I no more avow?
What change is wrought to make me
shun

The truth; my pride, and thine till now?

To meet the gaze of stranger's eyes
Our law, our creed, our God denies;
Nor shall one wandering thought of mine
At such, our Prophet's will, repine:
No! happier made by that decree,
He left me all in leaving thee.
Deep were my anguish, thus compell'd
To wed with one I ne'er beheld:
This wherefore should I not reveal?
Why wilt thou urge me to conceal?
I know the Pacha's haughty mood
To thee hath never boded good;
And he so often storms at nought,
Allah! forbid that e'er he ought!
And why I know not, but within
My heart concealment weighs like sin.
If then such secrecy be crime,

And such it feels while lurking here; Oh, Selim! tell me yet in time,

Nor leave me thus to thoughts of fear. Ah! yonder see the Tchocadar, My father leaves the mimic war; I tremble now to meet his eyeSay, Selim, canst thou tell me why?"

"Zuleika-to thy tower's retreat Betake thee-Giaffir I can greet! And now with him I fain must prate Of firmans, imposts, levies, state.

There's fearful news from Danube's banks,

Our Vizier nobly thins his ranks,
For which the Giaour may give him
thanks!

Our Sultan hath a shorter way
Such costly triumph to repay.
But, mark me, when the twilight drum
Hath warn'd the troops to food and
sleep,

Unto thy cell will Selim come:

Then softly from the Haram creep
Where we may wander by the deep:
Our garden battlements are steep;
Nor these will rash intruder climb
To list our words, or stint our time;
And if he doth, I want not steel
Which some have felt, and more may
feel.

Then shalt thou learn of Selim more
Than thou hast heard or thought before:
Trust me, Zuleika-fear not me!
Thou know'st I hold a Haram key."
"Fear thee, my Selim! ne'er till now
Did word like this-

"Delay not thou: I keep the key-ana Haroun's guard Have some, and hope of more reward. To-night, Zuleika, thou shalt hear My tale, my purpose, and my fear : I am not, love! what I appear."

CANTO THE SECOND

THE winds are high on Helle's wave,
As on that night of stormy water
When Love, who sent, forgot to save
The young, the beautiful, the brave,

The lonely hope of Sestos' daughter.
Oh! when alone along the sky
Her turret-torch was blazing high,
Though rising gale, and breaking foam,
And shrieking sea-birds warn'd him
home :

And clouds aloft and tides below,
With signs and sounds, forbade to go,
He could not see, he would not hear,
Or sound or sign foreboding fear;
His eye but saw that light of love,
The only star it hail'd above;

His ear but rang with Hero's song,

Ye waves, divide not lovers long!"

That tale is old, but love anew

May nerve young hearts to prove as true.

The winds are high, and Helle's tide Rolls darkly heaving to the main ;

The night hath closed on Helle's stream,
Nor yet hath risen on Ida's hill
That moon, which shone on his high
theme:

No warrior chides her peaceful beam

But conscious shepherds bless it still. Their flocks are grazing on the mound

Of him who felt the Dardan's arrow: That mighty heap of gather'd ground Which Ammon's son ran proudly round, By nations raised, by monarchs crown'd, Is now a lone and nameless barrow ! Within-thy dwelling-place how narrow!

Without-can only strangers breathe
The name of him that was beneath:
Dust long outlasts the storied stone;
But Thou-thy very dust is gone!

Late, late to-night will Dian cheer
The swain, and chase the boatman's
fear;

Till then--no beacon on the cliff
May shape the course of struggling skiff;
The scatter'd lights that skirt the bay,
All, one by one, have died away;
The only lamp of this lone hour
Is glimmering in Zuleika's tower.
Yes! there is light in that lone chamber,
And o'er her silken ottoman
Are thrown the fragrant beads of amber,
O'er which her fairy fingers ran;
Near these, with emerald rays beset,
(How could she thus that gem forget?)
Her mother's sainted amulet,