178

Whereon engraved the Koorsee text, Could smooth this life, and win the

next;

And by her comboloio lies
A Koran of illumined dyes;

And many a bright emblazon'd rhyme
By Persian scribes redeem'd from time;
And o'er those scrolls, not oft so mute,
Reclines her now neglected lute;
And round her lamp of fretted gold
Bloom flowers in urns of China's mould;
The richest work of Iran's loom,
And Sheeraz, tribute of perfume;
All that can eye or sense delight

Are gather'd in that gorgeous room :
But yet it hath an air of gloom
She, of this Peri cell the sprite,
What doth she hence, and on so rude a
night?

Wrapt in the darkest sable vest,

Which none save noblest Moslem wear, To guard from winds of heaven the breast

As heaven itself to Selim dear, With cautious steps the thicket threading,

And starting oft, as through the glade The gust its hollow moanings made, Till on the smoother pathway treading, More free her timid bosom beat,

The maid pursued her silent guide ; And though her terror urged retreat, How could she quit her Selim's side? How teach her tender lips to chide?

His robe of pride was thrown aside,

His brow no high-crown'd turban bore, But in its stead a shawl of red,

Wreathed lightly round, his temples

wore:

That dagger, on whose hilt the gem
Were worthy of a diadem,
No longer glitter'd at his waist,
Where pistols unadorn'd were braced;
And from his belt a sabre swung,
And from his shoulder loosely hung
The cloak of white, the thin capote
That decks the wandering Candiote;
Beneath his golden plated vest
Clung like a cuirass to his breast;
The greaves below his knee that wound
With silvery scales were sheathed and
bound.

But were it not that high command
Spake in his eye, and tone, and hand,
All that a careless eye could see
In him was some young Galiongée.1

"I said I was not what I seem'd;
And now thou see'st my words were
true:

I have a tale thou hast not dream'd,
If sooth-its truth must others rue.
My story now 't were vain to hide.
I must not see thee Osman's bride:
But had not thine own lips declared
How much of that young heart I shared,
I could not, must not, yet have shown
The darker secret of my own.
In this I speak not now of love;
That, let time, truth, and peril prove:
But first-Oh! never wed another-
Zuleika! I am not thy brother!"

"Oh! not my brother!--yet unsay-
God! am I left alone on earth
To mourn-I dare not curse-the day
That saw my solitary birth?
Oh! thou wilt love me now no more!
My sinking heart foreboded ill;
But know me all I was before,

1 A Turkish sailor.

Thy sister-friend-Zuleika still. Thou led'st me here perchance to kill ; If thou hast cause for vengeance, see! My breast is offer'd-take thy fill!

Far better with the dead to be Than live thus nothing now to thee! Perhaps far worse, for now I know Why Giaffir alway seem'd thy foe; And I, alas! am Giaffir's child,

For whom thou wert contemn'd, reviled. If t thy sister--wouldst thou save Myfe, oh! bid me be thy slave!"

slare Zleika !-nay, I'm thine : But, re ve, this transport calm, Thy lot shall yet be link'd with mine; I swear by our Prophet's shrine, And that thought thy sorrow's

balm.

So may the Koran verse display'd
Upon its steel direct my blade,
In danger's hour to guard us both,
As I preserve that awful oath!

The name in which thy heart hath prided
Must change; but, my Zuleika, know,
That tie is widen'd, not divided,

Although thy Sire's my deadliest foe. My father was to Giaffir all

That Selim late was deem'd to thee: That brother wrought a brother's fall, But spared, at least, my infancy; And lull'd me with a vain deceit That yet a like return may meet. He rear'd me, not with tender help, But like the nephew of a Cain ; He watched me like a lion's whelp, That gnaws and yet may break his

chain.

My father's blood in every vein Is boiling; but for thy dear sake No present vengeance will I take ;

Though here I must no more remain.
But first, beloved Zuleika! hear
How Giaffir wrought this deed of fear.

"How first their strife to rancor grew,
If love or envy made them foes,
It matters little if I knew ;
In fiery spirits, slights, though few

And thoughtless, will disturb repose.
In war Abdallah's arm was strong,
Remember'd yet in Bosniac song,
And Paswan's rebel hordes attest
How little love they bore such guest:
His death is all I need relate,
The stern effect of Giaffir's hate;
And how my birth disclosed to me,
Whate'er beside it makes, hath made me
free.

"When Paswan, after years of strife,
At last for power, but first for life,
In Widdin's walls too proudly sate,
Our Pachas rallied round the state;
Nor last nor least in high command,
Each brother led a separate band;
They gave their horse-tails 1 to the wind,
And mustering in Sophia's plain
Their tents were pitch'd, their post as-
sign'd;

To one, alas! assign'd in vain !
What need of words! the deadly bowl,

By Giaffir's order drugged and given, With venom subtle as his soul,

Dismiss'd Abdallah's hence to heaven. Reclined and feverish in the bath,

He, when the hunter's sport was up, But little deem'd a brother's wrath To quench his thirst had such a cup: The bowl a bribed attendant bore; He drank one draught, nor needed more! If thou my tale, Zuleika, doubt, Call Haroun-he can tell it out.

"The deed once done, and Paswan's feud
In part suppress'd, though ne'er subdued,
Abdallah's Pachalick was gain'd:-
Thou know'st not what in our Divan
Can wealth procure for worse than man-
Abdallah's honors were obtain'd

By him a brother's murder stain'd;
T is true, the purchase nearly drain'd
His ill got treasure, soon replaced.
Wouldst question whence? Survey the
waste,

And ask the squalid peasant how
His gains repay his broiling brow!-
Why me the stern usurper spared,
Why thus with me his palace shared,
I know not. Shame, regret, remorse,
And little fear from infant's force;
Besides, adoption as a son

By him whom Heaven accorded none,
Or some unknown cabal, caprice,
Preserved me thus;-but not in peace:
He cannot curb his haughty mood,
Nor I forgive a father's blood.

"Within thy father's house are foes; Not all who break his bread are true; To these should I my birth disclose,

His days, his very hours were few; They only want a heart to lead, A hand to point them to the deed. But Haroun only knows, or knew, This tale, whose close is almost nigh

1" Horse-tail," the standard of a pacha.

(Byron.)

He in Abdallah's palace grew,

And held that post in his Serai Which holds he here-he saw him die; But what could single slavery do? Avenge his lord? alas! too late; Or save his son from such a fate? He chose the last, and when elate

With foes subdued, or friends betray'd, Proud Giaffir in high triumph sate, He led me helpless to his gate,

And not in vain it seems essay'd To save the life for which he pray'd. The knowledge of my birth secured

From all and each, but most from me; Thus Giaffir's safety was insured.

Removed he too from Roumelie
To this our Asiatic side,

Far from our seats by Danube's tide,
With none but Haroun, who retains
Such knowledge-and that Nubian feels
A tyrant's secrets are but chains,
From which the captive gladly steals,
And this and more to me reveals:
Such still to guilt just Alla sends-
Slaves, tools, accomplices-no friends!

"All this, Zuleika, harshly sounds;

But harsher still my tale must be: Howe'er my tongue thy softness wounds, Yet I must prove all truth to thee. I saw thee start this garb to see, Yet is it one I oft have worn,

And long must wear: this Galiongée, To whom thy plighted vow is sworn, Is leader of those pirate hordes, Whose laws and lives are on their swords;

To hear whose desolating tale

Would make thy waning cheek more

pale:

Those arms thou see'st my band have brought.

The hands that wield are not remote ; This cup too for the rugged knaves

Is fill'd--once quaff'd, they ne'er repine: Our prophet might forgive the slaves: They're only infidels in wine.

What could I be? Proscribed at home, And taunted to a wish to roam; And listless left-for Giaffir's fear Denied the courser and the spear-Though oft-Oh, Mahomet! how oftIn full Divan the despot scoff'd, As if my weak unwilling hand Refused the bridle or the brand:. Heever went to war alone,

And pent me here untried-unknown;

To Haroun's care with women left.

66

""T is true, they are a lawless brood,
But rough in form, nor mild in mood;
And every creed, and every race,
With them hath found-may find a
place;

But open speech, and ready hand,
Obedience to their chief's command;
A soul for every enterprise,

That never sees with terror's eyes;
Friendship for each, and faith to all,
And vengeance vow'd for those who fall,
Have made them fitting instruments
For more than ev'n my own intents.
And some-and I have studied all

Distinguish'd from the vulgar rank, But chiefly to my council call

The wisdom of the cautious FrankAnd some to higher thoughts aspire, The last of Lambro's patriots there Anticipated freedom share;

And oft around the cavern fire

On visionary schemes debate,

To snatch the Rayahs from their fate. So let them ease their hearts with prate Of equal rights, which man ne'er knew; I have a love for freedom too.

Ay! let me like the ocean-Patriarch roam Or only know on land the Tartar's home! My tent on shore, my galley on the sea, Are more than cities and Serais to me: Borne by my steed, or wafted by my sail, Across the desert, or before the gale, Bound where thou wilt, my barb! or glide, my prow!

But be the star that guides the wanderer, Thou!

Thou, my Zuleika, share and bless my bark;

The Dove-of peace and promise to mine

ark!

Or, since that hope denied in worlds of

strife,

Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life!

The evening beam that smiles the clouds

away,

And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray! Blest-as the Muezzin's strain from Mecca's wall

To pilgrims pure and prostrate at his call;

Soft--as the melody of youthful days, That steals the trembling tear of speechless praise;

Dear--as his native song to Exile's ears, Shall sound each tone thy long-loved voice endears.

For thee in those bright isles is built a bower

Blooming as Aden in its earliest hour.
A thousand swords, with Selim's heart
and hand,
Wait-wave-defend-destroy-at thy

command!

When cities cage us in a social home:` There ev'n thy soul might err-how oft the heart

Corruption shakes which peril could not part!

And woman, more than man, whe death or woe,

Or even Disgrace, would lay her love. low,

Sunk in the lap of Luxury will shameAway suspicion !--not Zuleika's name! But life is hazard at the best; and here No more remains to win, and much to fear:

Yes, fear the doubt, the dread of losing thee,

By Osman's power, and Giaflir's stern decree.

That dread shall vanish with the favouring gale,

Which Love to-night hath promised to my sail :

No danger daunts the pair his smile hath blest,

Their steps still roving, but their hearts

at rest.

With thee all toils are sweet, each clime hath charms;

Earth-sea alike-our world within ou

arms!

Ay-let the loud winds whistle o'er the

deck,

So that those arms cling closer round my neck:

"His head and faith from doubt and death

Return'd in time my guard to save;
Few heard, none told, that o'er the wave
From isle to isle I roved the while;
And since, though parted from my band,
Too seldom now I leave the land,
No deed they've done, nor deed shall do,
Ere I have heard and doom'd it too :
I form the plan, decree the spoil,
'Tis fit I oftener share the toil.
But now too long I've held thine ear;
Time presses, floats my bark, and here
We leave behind but hate and fear.
To-morrow Osman with his train
Arrives-to-night must break thy chain:
And wouldst thou save that haughty
Bey,-

Perchance his life who gave thee thine,

With me this hour away-away!

But yet, though thou art plighted mine,

Wouldst thou recall thy willing vow,
Appall'd by truths imparted now,
Here rest I- not to see thee wed:
But be that peril on my head!"

Zuleika, mute and motionless,
Stood like that statue of distress,
When, her last hope for ever gone,
The mother harden'd into stone:
All in the maid that eye could see
Was but a younger Niobe.
But ere her lip, or even her eye,
Essay'd to speak, or look reply,
Beneath the garden's wicket porch
Far flash'd on high a blazing torch!

Another-and another-and another"Oh! fly-no more-yet now my more than brother!"

Far, wide, through every thicket spread
The fearful lights are gleaming red;
Nor these alone-for each right hand
Is ready with a sheathless brand.
They part, pursue, return, and wheel
With searching flambeau, shining steel;
And last of all, his sabre waving,
Stern Giaffir in his fury raving:
And now almost they touch the cave-
Oh! must that grot be Selim's grave?

Dauntless he stood-""Tis come-soon past

One kiss, Zuleika-'tis my last :

But yet my band not far from shore May hear this signal, see the flash; Yet now too few-the attempt were rash:

No matter-yet one effort more." Forth to the cavern mouth he stept; His pistol's echo rang on high, Zuleika started not, nor wept,

Despair benumb'd' her breast and eye!

"They hear me not, or if they ply
Their oars 'tis but to see me die;
That sound hath drawn my foes more
nigh.

Then forth my father's scimitar,
Thou ne'er hast seen less equal war!
Farewell, Zuleika !-sweet! retire:

Yet stay within--here linger safe,
At thee his rage will only chafe.
Stir not--lest even to thee perchance
Some erring blade or ball should glance.
Fear'st thou for him?--may I expire
If in this strife I seek thy sire!
No--though by him that poison pour'd;
No-though again he call me coward!
But tamely shall I meet their steel?
No--as each crest save his may feel!"

One bound he made, and gain'd the sand:

Already at his feet hath sunk The foremost of the prying band,

A gasping head, a quivering trunk : Another falls-but round him close A swarming circle of his foes; From right to left his path he cleft,

And almost met the meeting wave: His boat appears-nct five oars' lengthHis comrades strain with desperate strength-

Oh! are they yet in time to save?
His feet the foremost breakers lave;