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A viler race let Israel show;
But let that pass—to none be told
Our oath; the rest shall time unfold.
To me and mine leave Osman Bey;
I've partisans for peril's day:
Think not I am what I appear;
I've arms, and friends, and vengeance near.”


“Think not thou art what thou appeares: !

My Selim, thou art sadly changed:
This morn I saw thee gentlest, dearest;

But now thou 'rt from thyself estranged.
My love thou surely knew'st before,
It ne'er was less, nor can be more.
To see thee, hear thee, near thee stay,

And hate the night I know not why,
Save that we meet not but by day;

With thee to live, with thee to die,

I dare not to my hope deny;
Thy cheek, thine eyes, thy lips to kiss,
Like this—and this-no more than this;
For, Allah! sure thy lips are flame:

What fever in thy veins is flushing?
My owu have nearly caught the same,

At least I feel my cheek too blushing.
To soothe thy sickness, watch thy health,
Partake, but never waste, thy wealth,
Or stand with smiles unmurmuring by,
And lighten half thy poverty;
Do all but close thy dying eye,
For that I could not live to try!
To these alone my thoughts aspire:
More can I do, or thou require ?
But, Selim, thou must answer why
We need so much of mystery ?
The cause I cannot dream nor tell,
But be it, since thou say'st 't is well;
Yet what thou mean'st by 'arms' and 'friends'
Beyond my weaker sense extends.
I meant that Giaffir should have heard

The very vow I plighted thee;
His wrath would not revoke my word:

But surely he would leave me free.

Can this fond wish seem strange in me,
To be what I have ever been ?
What other hath Zuleika seen
From simple childhood's earliest hour?

What other can she seek to see
Than thee, companion of her bower,

The partner of her infancy?
These cherish'd thoughts, with life begun,

Say, why must I no more avow ?
What change is wrought to make me shun

The truth; my pride, and thine till now?

To meet the gaze of stranger's eyes
Our law, our creed, our God denies;
Nor shall one wandering thougbt of mine
At such, our Prophel's will, repine:
No! happier made by that decree,
He left me all in leaving thee.
Deep were my anguish, thus compellid
To wed with one I ne'er beheld :
This wherefore should I not reveal ?
Why wilt thou urge me to conceal ?
I know the Pacha's haughty mood
To thee hath never boded good;
And he so often storms at nought,
Allah! forbid that e'er he ought!
And why, I know not, but within
My heart concealment weighs like sin.
If then such secrecy be crime,

And such it feels while lurking herpe
Oh, Selim ! tell me yct in time,

Nor leave me thus to thoughts of fear.
Ah! yonder see the tchocadar, (1)
My father leaves the mimic war;
I tremble now to meet his eye-
Say, Selim, canst thou tell me why?"

“ Zuleika-to thy tower's retreat
Betake thee-Giaffir I can greet;
And now with him I fain must prate
Of firmans, impost, levies, state.
There's fearful news from Danube's banks :
Our Vizier nobly thins his ranks,
For which the Giaour may give him thanks!
Our Sultan hath a shorter way
Such costly triumph to repay.
But, mark me, when the twilight drum

Hath warn'd the troops to food and sleep, Unto thy cell will Selim come:

Then softly from the haram creep
Where we may wander by the deep:

Our garden-battlements are steep;
Nor these will rash intruder climb
To list our words, or stint our time;
And if he doth, I want not steel
Which some have felt, and more may feel.
Then shalt thou learn of Selim more
Than thou hast heard or thought before :
Trust me, Zuleika-fear not me!
Thou know'st I hold a haram key.”
“Fear thee, my Selim! ne'er till now
Did word like this,”

“Delay not thou; I keep the key-and Haroun's guard Have some, and hope of more reward. To-night, Zuleika, thou shalt hear

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Turks of Egripo, the Jews of Salonica, and the Greeks of Athens, ure the worst of their respective races.

(1) “ Tchocadar"-one of the attendants wbo precedes a man of authority

To trace again those fields of yore, Believing every hillock green

Contains no fabled hero's ashes, And that around the undoubted scene

Thine own“broad Hellespont'(1) still dashes,
Be long my lot! and cold were he
Who there could gaze denying thee!

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 ardan's arrow: Thai mighty heap of gather'd ground Which Ammon's son ran proudly round, (2) By nations raised, by monarchs crown'd,

Is now a lone and nameless barrow!

Within-thy dwelling-place how narrow!
Without-can only strangers breathe
The name of him that was beneath:
Dust long outlasts the storied stone;
But thou-lhy very dust is gone!

Lațe, late to-night will Dian cheer
The swain, and chase the boatman's fear;
Till then-no beacon on the cliff
May shape the course of straggling skiff;
The scatter'd lights that skirt the bay,
All, one by one, have died away;
The only lamp of this lone hour
Is glimmering in Zuleika's tower.
Yes! There is light in that lone chamber,

And o'er her silken oltoman
Are thrown the fragrant beads of amber,

O'er which her fairy fingers ran; (3)
Near these, with emerald rays beset,
(How could she thus that gem forget?)
Her mother's sainted amulet, (4)
Whereon engraved the Koorsee text,
Could smooth this life, and win the next;

My tale, my purpose,


I am not, love! what I appear.”


1. The winds are high on Helle's wave,

As on that night of stormy water
When love, who sent, forgot to save
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,
He could not see, he would not hear,
Or sound or sign foreboding fear;
His eye but saw that light of love,
The only star it hail'd above;
His ear but rang with Hero's song,
“Ye waves, divide not lovers long!”-
That tale is old, but love anew
May nerve young hearts to prove as true.

The winds are high, and Helle's tide

Rolls darkly-heaving to the main;
And night's descending shadows hide

That field with blood bedew'd in vain,
The desert of old Priam's pride;

The tombs, sole relics of his reign,
All-save immortal dreams that could beguile
The blind old man of Scio's rocky isle!

Oh! yel--for there my steps have been;

These feet have press'd the sacred shore,
These limbs that buoyant wave hath borne-
Minstrel ! with thee to muse, to mourn,

The wrangling about this epithet, "the broad Hellespont" reeding on the tombs of Æsietes and Antilochus: the first is in of the boundless lellespont,” whether it means one or the other, the centre of the plain. or what it means at all, has been beyond all possibility of delail. (5) When rubbed, the amber is susceptible of a persume, which I have even heard it disputed on the spot; and, not foreseeing a is slight, but not disagreeable.-(On discovering that, in some of

speedy conclusion to the controversy, amused myself with the early copies, the all-important monosyllable" not" had been swimming across it in the mean time ; and probably may again, omilled, Lord Byron wrole to Mr. Murray,-“There is a diabolical before the point is settled. Indeed, the question as to the truth mistake, which must be corrected; it is the omission of 'no' of " the tale of Troy divine” still continues, much of it resting before disagreeable, in the note on the amber rosary. This is upon the talismanic word “ įnzipo; :" probably Homer had the really horrible, and nearly as bad as the stumble of mine at the sure notion of distance that a coquette has of time; and when threshold -I mean the misnomer of bride. Pray do not let a be talks of boundless, means half a mile; as the latter, by a like copy go without the 'nol :' it is nonsense, and worse than nonEgure, when she says e'ernal atlachment, simply specifies three sense. I wish the printer was saddled with a vampire."-E.) seeks.

(4) 'The belief in amulets engraved on gems, or inclosed in (4 Before his Persian invasion, and crowned the allar with gold boxes, containing scraps from the Koran, worn round the laurel, etc. He was afterwards imitated by Caracalla in his race. neck, wrist, or arm, is still universal in the East. The Koorsee

is believed that the last also poisoned a friend, named Festus, (throne) verse in the second cap. of the Koran describes the for the sake of new Patroclan games. I have seen the sheep attributes of the Most High, and is engraved in this manner, and

It might be only that the night
Disguised things seen by better light:
That brazen lamp but dimly threw

ray of no celestial hue;
Bul in a nook within the cell
Her eye on stranger objects fell.
There arms were piled, not such as wield
The turban'd delis in the field;
But brands of foreign blade and hilt,
And one was red-perchance with guilt!
Ah! how without can blood be spilt?
A cup too on the board was set
That did not seem to hold sherbet.
What may this mean? she turn'd to see
Her Selim—"Oh! can this be he ?”

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 lone, and hand, All that a careless


could see In him was some young Galiongée.(2)

X. “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 pow of love;
That, let time, truth, and peril prove:

And by her comboloio (1) 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 limid 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 ?

They reach'd at length a grotto, hewn

by nature, but enlarged by art, Where oft her lute she wont to tune,

And oft her Koran conn'd apart;
And oft in youthful reverie
She dream'd what Paradise might be:
Where woman's parted soul shall go
Her Prophet had disdain'd to show;
But.Selim's mansion was secure,
Nor deem'd she, could he long endure
His bower in other worlds of bliss,
Without her, most beloved in this!
Oh! who so dear with him could dwell?
What houri soothe him half so well ?

Since last she visited the spot
Some change seem'd wrought within the grot.

worn by the pious, as the most esteemed and sublime of all sailor; the Greeks navigate, the Turks work the guns. Their sentences.

dress is picturesque; and I have seen the Capitan Pacha more (1) "Comboloio”—a Turkish rosary. The mss., particularly than once wearing it as a kind of incog. Their legs, however, are those of the Persians, are richly adorned and illuminated. The generally naked. The buskins described in the text as sheathed Greek females are kept in utler ignorance ; but many of the behind with silver are those of an Arnaout robber, who was my Turkish girls are highly accomplished, though not actually qua- bost (he had quitted the profession) at bis Pyrgo, near Gastouni lified for a Christian coterie. Perhaps some of our own" blues" in the Morea; they were plated in scales one over the other, like might not bc the worse for bleaching.

the back of an armadillo. (2) “Galiongée" - or galiongi, a sailor, that is, a Turkish

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-lhe day (1)

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,

Thy sister-friend-Zuleika still. Thou ledd'st me here perchance to kill;

If thou hast cause for vengeance, see! My breast is offer'd—lake 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 always seem'd thy foe;
And I, alas! am Giaffir's child,
For whom thou wert contemn’d, reviled.
If not thy sister-wouldst thou save
My life, oh! bid me be thy slave !"

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He rear'd me, not with tender help,

But like the nephew of a Cain;(3)
He watch'd 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 lake;

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

" How tirst their strife to rancour 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(1) 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 Widin's walls too proudly sale,
Our pachas rallied round the state;
Nor last nor least in high command,
Each brother led a separate band;
They gave their horse-tails (5) to the wind,

And mustering in Sophia's plain,
Their tents were pitch'd, their post assign'd;

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

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

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

He, when the hunters' sport was up,
But little deem'd a brother's wrath

To quench his thirst had such a cup:


"My slave, Zuleika!--nay, I'm thine:

But, gentle love! this transport calm,
Thy lot shall yet be link'd with mine;
I swear it by our Prophet's shrine,
And be that thought thy sorrow's balm.
So may the Koran (2) 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 lullid me with a vain deceit That yet a like return may meet.

(1) Originally,—“To curse, if I could curse, the day."-E. bulous, of the patriarchs, than is warranted by our own sacred (3) The characters on all Turkish scimitars conlain sometimes writ; and, not content with Adam, they have a biography of prethe name of tbe place of their manufacture, but more generally Adamites. Solomon is the monarch of all necromancy, and a text from the Koran, in letters of gold. Amongst those in my Moses a prophet inferior only to Christ and Mahomet. Zuleika possession is one with a blade of singular construction; it is very is the Persian name of Potiphar's wise ; and her amour with Joseph broad, and the edge notched into serpentine curves like the ripple constitutes one of the finest poems in their language. It is, thereof water, or the waveriog of flame. I asked the Armenian who fore, no violation of costume to put the names of Cain, or Noah, sold it, wbat possible use such a figure could add : he said, in into the mouth of a Moslem.—(Some doubt having been expressed haliae, that he did not know; but the Mussulmans had an idea by Mr. Murray, as lo the propriety of putting the name of Cain into that those of this form gave a severer wound; and liked it because the mouth of a Mussulman, Lord Byron sent him the preceding i was * piu feroce." I did not much admire the reason, but note" for the benefit of the ignorant.” “I don't care one lump bought it for its peculiarily.

of sugar," he says, "for my poelry; but for my costume, and my (3) It is to be observed, that every allusion to any thing or correctness on those points, I will combat lustily."-E.) personage in the Old Testament, such as the Ark, or Cain, is (4) Paswan Oglou, the rebel of Widin; who, for the last years equally the privilege of Mussulman and Jew: indeed, the former of his life, set the whole power of the Porte at defiance. prosess to be much better acquainted with the lives, true and fa (5) " Horse-tail," the standard of a pacha.

The bowl a bribed attendant bore;
He drank one draught, (1) nor needed more!
If thou my tale, Zuleika, doubt,
Call Haroun-he can tell it out.


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 sendsSlaves, 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 check 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 qualf'd, they ne'er repine: Our Prophet might forgive the slaves;

They're only infidels in wine..

“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 honours 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.

XVI. “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:
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 ensured.

Removed he too from Roumelie


“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 oft!-
In full divan the despot scoffd,
As if my weak unwilling hand
Refused the bridle or the brand :
He ever went to war alone,
And pent me here untried-unknown;
To Haroun's care with women left,
By hope unblest, of fame bereft,
While thou-whose softness long endear'd,
Though it unmannid me, still had cheer'd-
To Brusa's walls for safety sent,
Awaited'st there the field's event.
Haroun, who saw my spirit pining

Beneath inaction's sluggish yoke,
His captive, though with dread resigning, ,

My thraldom for a scason broke,
On promise to return before
The day when Giaffir's charge was o'er.

(1) Giaffir, Pacha of Argyro Castro, or Scutari, I am not sure had taken place at a bath in Sophia, or Adrianople. The poisc which, was aclually taken off by the Albanian Ali, in the manner was mixed in the cup of coffee, which is presented before it described in the text. Ali Pacha, wbile I was in the country, sherbet, by the bath-keeper, after dressing. married the daughter of his victim, some years after the event

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