THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. CANTO II. THE winds are high on Helle's wave, 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, 10 His eye but saw that light of love, His ear but rang with Hero's song, That tale is old, but love anew May nerve young hearts to prove as true. II. The winds are high-and Helle's tide The tombs-sole relics of his reign— III. Oh! yet-for there my steps have been, These feet have press'd the sacred shore, These limbs that buoyant wave hath borneMinstrel! with thee to muse, to mourn To trace again those fields of yore 20 30 Believing every hillock green Contains no fabled hero's ashes And that around the undoubted scene Thine own "broad Hellespont" 23 still dashesBe long my lot and cold were he Who there could gaze denying thee! IV. 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;- 40 50 Dust long outlasts the storied stone But Thou- thy very dust is gone! V. Late, late to night will Dian cheer The swain, and chase the boatman's fear; May shape the course of struggling skiff; Is glimmering in Zuleika's tower. Yes, there is light in that lone chamber, Are thrown the fragrant beads of amber, Her mother's sainted amulet, 26 Whereon engraved the Koorsee text, Could smooth this life, and win the next; 60 70 And by her Comboloio 27 lies A Koran of illumin'd dyes; And many a bright emblazon'd rhyme 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? VI. 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; 80 90 |