More glittering eye, and black brow’s sabler gloom, | |
150 | Glared on the Moslems’ eyes some Afrit sprite, |
Whose demon death-blow left no hope for fight. | |
The wild confusion, and the swarthy glow | |
Of flames on high, and torches from below; | |
The shriek of terror, and the mingling yell – | |
155 | For swords began to clash, and shouts to swell – |
Flung o’er that spot of earth the air of hell! | |
Distracted, to and fro, the flying slaves | |
Behold but bloody shore and fiery waves; | |
Nought heeded they the Pacha’s angry cry, | |
160 | They |
He saw their terror – check’d the first despair | |
That urged him but to stand and perish there, | |
Since far too early and too well obey’d, | |
The flame was kindled ere the signal made; | |
165 | He saw their terror – from his baldric drew |
His bugle – brief the blast – but shrilly blew; | |
’Tis answer’d – ‘Well ye speed, my gallant crew! | |
Why did I doubt their quickness of career? | |
And deem design had left me single here?’ | |
170 | Sweeps his long arm – that sabre’s whirling sway |
Sheds fast atonement for its first delay; | |
Completes his fury, what their fear begun, | |
And makes the many basely quail to one. | |
The cloven turbans o’er the chamber spread, | |
175 | And scarce an arm dare rise to guard its head: |
Even Seyd, convulsed, o’erwhelm’d, with rage, surprise, | |
Retreats before him, though he still defies. | |
No craven he – and yet he dreads the blow, | |
So much Confusion magnifies his foe! | |
180 | His blazing galleys still distract his sight, |
He tore his beard, and foaming fled the fight; | |
For now the pirates pass’d the Haram gate, | |
And burst within – and it were death to wait; | |
Where wild Amazement shrieking – kneeling – throws | |
185 | The sword aside – in vain – the blood o’erflows! |
The Corsairs pouring, haste to where within, | |
Invited Conrad’s bugle, and the din | |
Of groaning victims, and wild cries for life, | |
Proclaim’d how well he did the work of strife. | |
190 | A glutted tiger mangling in his lair! |
They shout to find him grim and lonely there, | |
But short their greeting – shorter his reply – | |
‘ ’Tis well – but Seyd escapes – and he must die – | |
Much hath been done – but more remains to do – | |
195 | Their galleys blaze – why not their city too?’ |
V | |
Quick at the word – they seized him each a torch, | |
And fire the dome from minaret to porch. | |
A stern delight was fix’d in Conrad’s eye, | |
But sudden sunk – for on his ear the cry | |
200 | Of women struck and like a deadly knell |
Knock’d at that heart unmoved by battle’s yell. | |
‘Oh! burst the Haram – wrong not on your lives | |
One female form – remember – | |
On them such outrage Vengeance will repay; | |
205 | Man is our foe, and such ’tis ours to slay: |
But still we spared – must spare the weaker prey. | |
Oh! I forgot – but Heaven will not forgive | |
If at my word the helpless cease to live: | |
Follow who will – I go – we yet have time | |
210 | Our souls to lighten of at least a crime.’ |
He climbs the crackling stair – he bursts the door, | |
Nor feels his feet glow scorching with the floor; | |
His breath choked gasping with the volumed smoke, | |
But still from room to room his way he broke. | |
215 | They search – they find – they save: with lusty arms |
Each bears a prize of unregarded charms; | |
Calm their loud fears; sustain their sinking frames | |
With all the care defenceless beauty claims: | |
So well could Conrad tame their fiercest mood | |
220 | And check the very hands with gore imbrued. |
But who is she? whom Conrad’s arms convey | |
From reeking pile and combat’s wreck – away – | |
Who but the love of him he dooms to bleed? | |
The Haram queen – but still the slave of Seyd! | |
VI | |
225 | Brief time had Conrad now to greet Gulnare, |
Few words to re-assure the trembling fair; | |
For in that pause compassion snatch’d from war, | |
The foe before retiring, fast and far, | |
With wonder saw their footsteps unpursued, | |
230 | First slowlier fled – then rallied – then withstood. |
This Seyd perceives, then first perceives how few, | |
Compared with his, the Corsair’s roving crew, | |
And blushes o’er his error, as he eyes | |
The ruin wrought by panic and surprise. | |
235 | Alla il Alla! Vengeance swells the cry - |
Shame mounts to rage that must atone or die! | |
And flame for flame and blood for blood must tell, | |
The tide of triumph ebbs that flow’d too well – | |
When wrath returns to renovated strife, | |
240 | And those who fought for conquest strike for life. |
Conrad beheld the danger – he beheld | |
His followers faint by freshening foes repell’d: | |
‘One effort – one – to break the circling host!’ | |
They form – unite – charge – waver – all is lost! | |
245 | Within a narrower ring compress’d, beset, |
Hopeless, not heartless, strive and struggle yet – | |
Ah! now they fight in firmest file no more, | |
Hemm’d in – cut off – cleft down – and trampled o’er; | |
But each strikes singly, silently, and home, | |
250 | And sinks outwearied rather than o’ercome, |
His last faint quittance rendering with his breath, | |
Till the blade glimmers in the grasp of death! | |
VII | |
But first, ere came the rallying host to blows, | |
And rank to rank, and hand to hand oppose, | |
255 | 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, | |
And dried those tears for life and fame that flow’d: | |
And when that dark-eyed lady, young Gulnare, | |
260 | Recall’d those thoughts late wandering in despair, |
Much did she marvel o’er the courtesy | |
That smooth’d his accents; soften’d in his eye: | |
‘Twas strange – | |
Seem’d gentler then than Seyd in fondest mood. | |
265 | 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: | |
270 | 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!’ | |
VIII | |
And him she saw, where thickest carnage spread, | |
But gather’d breathing from the happier dead; | |
275 | 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, | |
280 | While Vengeance ponder’d o’er new plans of pain, |
And stanch’d the blood she saves to shed again – | |
But drop for drop, for Seyd’s unglutted eye | |
Would doom him ever dying – ne’er to die! | |
Can this be he? triumphant late she saw, | |
285 | 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. | |
290 | 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, | |
295 | 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 |