Were I thine own – thou wert not lonely here: | |
An outlaw’s spouse – and leave her lord to roam! | |
What hath such gentle dame to do with home? | |
But speak not now – o’er thine and o’er my head | |
305 | Hangs the keen sabre by a single thread; |
If thou hast courage still, and wouldst be free, | |
Receive this poniard – rise – and follow me!’ | |
‘Ay – in my chains! my steps will gently tread, | |
With these adornments, o’er each slumbering head! | |
310 | Thou hast forgot – 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: | |
315 | 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. | |
That hated tyrant Conrad – he must bleed! | |
320 I see thee shudder – but my soul is changed - | |
Wrong’d, spurn’d, reviled – and it shall be avenged – | |
Accused of what till now my heart disdain’d. | |
Too faithful, though to bitter bondage chain’d. | |
Yes, smile! – but he had little cause to sneer, | |
325 | I was not treacherous then – nor thou too dear. |
But he has said it – and the jealous well, | |
Those tyrants, teasing, tempting to rebel, | |
Deserve the fate their fretting lips foretell. | |
I never loved – he bought me – somewhat high – | |
330 | Since with me came a heart he could not buy. |
I was a slave unmurmuring: he hath said, | |
But for his rescue I with thee had fled. | |
‘Twas false thou know’st – but let such augurs rue, | |
Their words are omens Insult renders true. | |
335 | Nor was thy respite granted to my prayer; |
This fleeting grace was only to prepare | |
New torments for thy life, and my despair. | |
Mine too he threatens; but his dotage still | |
Would fain reserve me for his lordly will: | |
340 | When wearier of these fleeting charms and me, |
There yawns the sack – and yonder rolls the sea! | |
What, am I then a toy for dotard’s play, | |
To wear but till the gilding frets away? | |
I saw thee – loved thee – owe thee all – would save, | |
345 | If but to show how grateful is a slave. |
But had he not thus menaced fame and life, | |
(And well he keeps his oaths pronounced in strife,) | |
I still had saved thee – but the Pacha spared. | |
Now I am all thine own – for all prepared: | |
350 | Thou lov’st me not – nor know’st – or but the worst. |
Alas! this love – that hatred are the first – | |
Oh! couldst thou prove my truth, thou would’st not start, | |
Nor fear the fire that lights an Eastern heart; | |
’Tis now the beacon of thy safety – now | |
355 | It points within the port a Mainote prow: |
But in one chamber, where our path must 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: | |
360 | 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 knife – | |
365 | Who spares a woman’s seeks not slumber’s life. |
Thine saved gladly, Lady, not for this – | |
Let me not deem that mercy shown amiss. | |
Now fare thee well – more peace be with thy breast! | |
Night wears apace – my last of earthly rest!’ | |
370 | ‘Rest! rest! by sunrise must thy sinews shake, |
And thy limbs writhe around the ready stake. | |
I heard the order – saw – will not see – | |
If thou wilt perish, I will fall with thee. | |
My life – my love – my hatred – all below | |
375 | Are on this cast – Corsair! ’tis but a blow! |
Without it flight were idle – how evade | |
His sure pursuit? my wrongs too unrepaid, | |
My youth disgraced – the long, long wasted years, | |
One blow shall cancel with our future fears; | |
380 | But since the dagger suits thee less than brand, |
I’ll try the firmness of a female hand. | |
The guards are gain’d – one moment all were o’er – | |
Corsair! we meet in safety or no more; | |
If errs my feeble hand, the morning cloud | |
385 | Will hover o’er thy scaffold, and my shroud.’ |
IX | |
She turn’d, and vanish’d ere he could reply, | |
But his glance followed far with eager eye; | |
And gathering, as he could, the links that bound | |
His form, to curl their length, and curb their sound, | |
390 | Since bar and bolt no more his steps preclude, |
He, fast as fetter’d limbs allow, pursued. | |
’Twas dark and winding, and he knew not where | |
That passage led; nor lamp nor guard were there: | |
He sees a dusky glimmering – shall he seek | |
395 | Or shun that ray so indistinct and weak? |
Chance guides his steps – a freshness seems to bear | |
Full on his brow, as if from morning air - | |
He reach’d an open gallery – on his eye | |
Gleam’d the last star of night, the clearing sky: | |
400 | Yet scarcely heeded these – another light |
From a lone chamber struck upon his sight. | |
Towards it he moved; a scarcely closing door | |
Reveal’d the ray within, but nothing more. | |
With hasty step a figure outward past, | |
405 | Then paused – and turn’d – and paused – ’tis She at last! |
No poniard in that hand – nor sign of ill – | |
‘Thanks to that softening heart – she could not kill!’ | |
Again he look’d, the wildness of her eye | |
Starts from the day abrupt and fearfully. | |
410 | She stopp’d – threw back her dark far-floating hair, |
That nearly veil’d her face and bosom fair: | |
As if she late had bent her leaning head | |
Above some object of her doubt or dread. | |
They meet - upon her brow – unknown – forgot – | |
415 | Her hurrying hand had left – ’twas but a spot – |
Its hue was all he saw, and scarce withstood – | |
Oh! slight but certain pledge of crime – ’tis blood! | |
X | |
He had seen battle – he had brooded lone | |
O’er promised pangs to sentenced guilt foreshown; | |
420 | He had been tempted – chasten’d – and the chain |
Yet on his arms might ever there remain: | |
But ne’er from strife – captivity – remorse – | |
From all his feelings in their inmost force – | |
So thrill’d – so shudder’d every creeping vein, | |
425 | As now they froze before that purple stain. |
That spot of blood, that light but guilty streak, | |
Had banish’d all the beauty from her cheek! | |
Blood he had view’d – could view unmoved – but then | |
It flow’d in combat, or was shed by men! | |
XI | |
430 | ‘ ’Tis done – he nearly waked – but it is done. |
Corsair! he perish’d – thou art dearly won. | |
All words would now be vain – away – away! | |
Our bark is tossing – ’tis already day. | |
The few gain’d over, now are wholly mine, | |
435 | And these thy yet surviving band shall join: |
Anon my voice shall vindicate my hand, | |
When once our sail forsakes this hated strand.’ | |
XII | |
She clapp’d her hands – and through the gallery pour, | |
Equipp’d for flight, her vassals – Greek and Moor: | |
440 | Silent but quick they stoop, his chains unbind; |
Once more his limbs are free as mountain wind! | |
But on his heavy heart such sadness sate, | |
As if they there transferr’d that iron weight. | |
No words are utter’d – at her sign, a door | |
445 | Reveals the secret passage to the shore; |
The city lies behind – they speed, they reach | |
The glad waves dancing on the yellow beach; | |
And Conrad following, at her beck, obey’d, | |
Nor cared he now if rescued or betray’d; | |
450 | Resistance were as useless as if Seyd |
Yet lived to view the doom his ire decreed. | |
XIII | |
Embark’d, the sail unfurl’d, the light breeze blew – | |
How much had Conrad’s memory to review! |