The works of lord Byron

Mark his gay course and own the hues of His Corsair's isle was

once thine o heaven; domainTill, darkly shaded from the land and deep, Would that with freedom it were th Behind his Delphian cliff he sinks to sleep.

On such an eve, his palest beam he cast, When - Athens! here thy Wisest look'd his last.

How watch'd thy better sons his farewell-ray,
That closed their murder'd sage's latest day!
Not yet not yet-Sol pauses on the hill-
The precious hour of parting lingers still;
But sad his light to agonizing eyes,
And dark the mountain's once delightful dyes:
Gloom o'er the lovely land he seem'd to pour,
The land, where Phoebus never frown'd
before,

But ere he sunk below Cithaeron's head,
The cup of woe was quaff'd - the spirit fled;
The soul of him who scorn'd to fear or fly-
Who lived and died, as none can live or die!

again!

The Sun hath sunk — and, darker th the night,

Sinks with his beam upon the bead
height-

Medora's heart-the third day's come a
gone--
With it he comes not - sends not-faithl
one!

The wind was fair though light; and stor

were none.

Last eve Anselmo's bark return'd, and
His only tidings that they had not met!
Though wild, as now, far different w
the tale

Had Conrad waited for that single sail

The night-breeze freshens--she that d
had past

In watching all that Hope proclaim'd a mas
Sadly she sate-on high-Impatience be
At last her footsteps to the midnight sho
And there she wander'd heedless of the spr
That dash'd her garments oft, and warn

away:

She saw not-felt not this-nor dared depa Nor deem'd it cold-her chill was at h heart;

Till grew such certainty from that su pense

His very Sight had shock'd from life sense!

Her emblem sparkles o'er the minaret:
The groves of olive scatter'd dark and wide
Where meek Cephisus pours his scanty tide,
The cypress saddening by the sacred mosque,
The gleaming turret of the gay Kiosk,
And, dun and sombre 'mid the holy calm,
Near Theseus' fane yon solitary palm,
All tinged with varied hues arrest the eye-Some bleeding-all most wretched-the
And dull were his that pass'd them heedless

It came at last-a sad and shatter'd bo Whose inmates first beheld whom first th sought;

the few-
Scarce knew they how escaped—this {|
In silence, darkling, each appear'd to wi
they knew.
His fellow's mournful guess at Conrad's fat
Something they would have said; but seen
to fear

To trust their accents to Medora's ear.
She saw at once, yet sunk not-trembled not
Beneath that grief, that loneliness of lot;
Within that meek fair form were feelin
high,

That deem'd not till they found their energ
While yet was Hope-they soften'd--flu

ter'd-wept

All lost-that softness died not--but it slep
And o'er its slumber rose that Streng
which said,
"With nothing left to love-there's nougl
to dread."
Tis more than nature's; like the burnin
might
Delirium gathers from the fever's height.

“Silent you stand—nor would I hear you |
tell
What-speak not-breathe not-for I know
it well-

Yet would I ask-almost my lip denies
The quick your answer-
-tell me where
he lies?"

"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;

"Lady! we know not-scarce with life Report speaks largely of his pirate-hoard

we fled;

But here is one denies that he is dead:

Would that of this my Pacha were the Lord!
While baffled, weaken'd by this fatal fray-

He saw him bound; and bleeding-but | Watch'd-follow'd-he were then an easier

alive."

She heard no further-'twas in vain to

strive

So throbb'd each vein-each thought-till
then withstood;

Her own dark soul—these words at once
subdued:
She totters-falls-and senseless had the

wave

Perchance but snatch'd her from another

grave;

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 Were offer'd rich as Stamboul's diadem; gem 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-that gold should not redeem!

But that with hands though rude, yet weep-It had not now redeem'd a single hour, And, thirsting for revenge, I ponder still But that I know him fetter'd, in my power; On pangs that longest rack and latest kill."

ing eyes,
They yield such aid as Pity's haste supplies:
er her deathlike cheek the ocean-dew,
Le-fan-sustain, till life returns anew;
Jake her handmaids, with the matrons
leave

That fainting form o'er which they gaze
and grieve;
Then seek Anselmo's cavern, to report
The tale too tedious-when the triumph
short,

With not a friend to animate, and tell
To other ears that death became thee we
Around thee foes to forge the ready lie
And blot life's latest scene with calumn
Before thee tortures, which the soul can da
Yet doubts how well the shrinking fle
may bear;
But deeply feels a single cry would shan
To valour's praise thy last and dearest clai
The life thou leavest below, denied abo
By kind monopolists of heavenly love;
And more than doubtful paradise-t

heaven

Of earthly hope-thy loved one from th riven. Such were the thoughts that outlaw m sustain, And govern pangs surpassing mortal pai And those sustain'd he-boots it well or i Since not to sink beneath, is something sti

The first day pass'd-be saw not her
Gulnare-

The second-third-and still she came there;

But what her words avouch'd, her char had done,

Or else he had not seen another sun. The fourth day roll'd along, and with t night

Came storm and darkness in their mingli might;

Oh! how he listen'd to the rushing deep That ne'er till now so broke upon his slee And his wild spirit wilder wishes sent, Roused by the roar of his own element Oft had he ridden on that winged way And loved its roughness for the speed it gav And now its dashing echo'd on his ear, A long known voice - alas! too vainly nea Loud sung the wind above; and, doub

Whate'er her sins, to him a guardian-saint, | Thou hast forgot
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:

O him she cast her dark and hurried eye, Which spoke before her accents-"thou must die!

Tes, thou must die-there is but one re

source, The last-the worst-if torture were not

worse.

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:
The crime-'tis none to punish those of
Seyd.

Lady! I look to none-my lips proclaim That hated tyrant, Conrad-he must bleed! What last proclaim'd they - Conrad still I see thee shudder-but my soul is changed— Wrong'd-spurn'd-reviled-and it shall be avenged-

the same:

Why shouldst 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

Seyd's revenge by many a lawless deed."

head

Has the keen sabre by a single thread; hast courage still, and wouldst be free,

Receive this poniard-rise-and follow

me!"

Ay-in my chains! my steps will gently

tread,

I was a slave unmurmuring; he hath said,
Since with me came a heart he could not buy.
But for his rescue I with thee had fled.
"Twas false thou knowst-but let such
augurs rue,

Their words are omens Insult renders true.
This fleeting grace was only to prepare
Nor was thy respite granted to my prayer;
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

I still had saved thee-but the Pacha spared.
Now I am all thine own--for all prepared:
Thou lov'st me not-nor knowst-or but
the worst.
Alas! this love-that hatred are the first
Oh! couldst thou prove my truth, thou
wouldst not start,
Nor fear the fire that lights an Eastern heart;

With these adornments, o'er each slumber- 'Tis now the beacon of thy safety- now

ing head!

It points within the port a Mainote prow:

But in one chamber, where our path must | From a lone chamber struck upon his si

lead,

There sleeps - he must not wake-the oppressor Seyd!"

"Gulnare Gulnare -I never felt till now My abject fortune, wither'd fame so low: Seyd is mine enemy: had swept my band From earth with ruthless but with open hand,

And therefore came I, in my bark of war, To smite the smiter with the scimitar; Such is my weapon-not the secret knifeWho spares a woman's seeks not slumber's life.

Thine saved I gladly, Lady, not for thisLet me not deem that mercy shewn amiss. Now fare thee well-more peace be with thy breast!

Night wears apace-my last of earthly rest!”

were o'er

Towards it he moved, a scarcely closing Reveal'd the ray within, but nothing n With hasty step a figure outward past Then paused-and turn'd- and pausedShe at last!

No poniard in that hand-nor sign of i "Thanks to that softening heart-she c

not kill!"

He had been tempted-chasten'd—and chain

Yet on his arms might ever there rem But ne'er from strife-captivity-remors From all his feelings in their inmost for So thrill'd so shudder'd every creeping y As now they froze before that purple st That spot of blood, that light but gu streak,

Had banish'd all the beauty from her che Blood he had view'd could view unmove but then

Corsair! we meet in safety or no more;
If errs my feeble hand, the morning-cloud
Will hover o'er thy scaffold and my shroud." It flow'd in combat, or was shed by m

where

That passage led; nor lamp nor guard were there:

She clapp'd her hands-and through gallery pour, He sees a dusky glimmering-shall he seek Equipp'd for flight, her vassals - Greek Or shun that ray so indistinct and weak? Chance guides his steps- a freshness seems Silent but quick they stoop, his cha

to bear

Moor;

unbind;

Full on his brow, as if from morning-air-Once more his limbs are free as mounta
He reach'd an open gallery-on his eye
Gleam'd the last star of night, the clearing

sky:

Yet scarcely heeded these-another light

wind!

But on his heavy heart such sadness sal As if they there transferr'd that iron weig No words are utter'd-at her sign, a d

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