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And little deem'd he what thy heart, Gulnare! But what her words arouch'd her charms had done,
When soft could feel, and when incensed could dare. Or else he had not seen another sun.
His doubts appear'i to wrong-nor yet she knew The fourth day rolld along, and with the night
How deep the root from whence compassion grew- Came storm and darkness in their mingling might:
She was a slave-from such may captives claim

Oh! how he listen’d to the rushing deep,
A fellow-feeling, differing but in name;

That ne'cr till now so broke upon his sleep;
Still half unconscious—heedless of his wrath, And his wild spirit wilder wishes sent,
Again she ventured on the dangerous path, Roused by the roar of his own element!
Again his rage repelld-until arose

Oft had he ridden on that winged wave,
That strife of thought, the source of woman's woes! And loved its roughness for the speed it gave;
1
VI.

And now its dashing echo'd on his ear, Meanwhile-long anxious-weary-still--the same A long-known voice--alas! too vainly near! Roll'd day and night—his soul could terror tame, Loud sung the wind above; and, doubly loud, This fearful interval of doubt and dread,

Slook o'er his lurrel cell the thunder-cloud; When every hour might doom bin worse than lead, And Aash'd the lightning by the latticed bar, When every step that echo'd by the gate

To him more genial than the midnight star: Might entering lead where axe and stake await;

Close to the glimmering grate he dragg'd his chain, When every voice that grated on his ear

And hoped that peril might prove not in vain, Might be the last that he could ever hear;

He raised his iron hand to Heaven, and pray'd Could terror tame—that spirit stern and high

One pitying flash to mar the form it made: (1) Had proved unwilling as unfit to die;

His steel and impious prayer altract alikeT was worn-perhaps decay d---yet silent bore

The storm rollid onward, and disdain’d to strike; That conflict, deadlier far than all before:

Its peal wax'd fainter-ceased-he felt alone, The heat of fight, the hurry of the gale,

As if some faithless friend had spurn’d his groan! Leave scarce one thought inert enough to quail;

VIII. But bound and fix'd in fetter d solitude

The midnight pass'd—and to the massy door To pine, the prey of every changing mood;

A light step came-it paused-it moved once more; To gaze on thine own heart; and meditate

Slow turns the graling bolt and sullen key; Irrevocable faults, and coming fate

'T is as his heart foreboded--that fair she! Too late the last to shun-the first to mend

Whate'er her sins, to him a guardian saint, To count the hours that struggle to thine end,

And beauteous still as hermit's hope can paint; With not a friend lo animale, and tell

Yet changed since last within that cell she came, Toolt er ears that death became thee well;

More pale ber cheek, more Iremulous her frame: Around thee foes to forge the ready lie,

On him she cast her dark and hurried eye, And blot life's latest scene with calumny:

Which spoke before her accents—"Thou must die ! Before Thee tortures, which the soul can dare,

Yes, thou must die-There is but one resource, Yet doubts how well the shrinking flesh may bear: The last-the worst-if torture were not worse.” But deeply feels a single cry would shame, To valour's praise thy last and dearest claim:

“Lady! I look to none--my lips proclaim The life thou leavest below, denied above

What last proclaim'd they-Conrad still the same : By kind monopolists of heavenly love;

Why shouldst thou seek an outlaw's life to spare, And more than doubtful paradise-ihy heaven

And change the sentence I deserve to bear ?

Well have I earn'd-nor nere alone-the meed Of earthly hope—thy loved one from thee riven, Such were the thoughts that outlaw must sustain,

Of Seyd's revenge, by many a lawless deed.” And govern pangs surpassing mortal pain :

Why should I seek? because-Oh! didst thou not And those sustain'd he-bools it well or ill ?

Redeem my life from worse than slavery's lot? Since not to sink beneath is something still!

Why should I seek ? hath misery made thee blind VII.

To the fond workings of a woman's mind ? The first day pass'd—he saw not her-Gulnare And must I say ? albeit my heart rebel The second-third-and still she came not there; With all that woman feels, but should not tell

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(1) "By the way I have a charge against you. As the great the appearance of that composition and of your tragedies." Mr. Dennis roared out on a similar occasion, “By G-d, that is Lord B. 10 Mr. Sotheby, Sept. 25, 1815.— The following are the any thunder!-so do I exclaim, 'this is my lightning! I allude lines in Mr. Sotheby's tragedy :lo a speech of Ivan's, in the scene with Petrowna and the Em

. And I have leap press, where the thought and almost expression are similar 10

lu transport from my flinly couchi, to welcome Conrad's in the third canto of The Corsair. I, however, do not

The thunder asil burst opon my rool,

And beckond to the lighining, is il flash'd say this to accuse you, but to crcept myself from suspicion; as

And sparkled on these follers." there is a priority of sis months' publication, on my pari, between Notwithstanding Lord Byrou's precaution, the coincidence in

Because-despite thy crimes that heart is moved : i still had saved thee-but the Pacna spared.
It fear d thee-thank thee--pitied-madden'd- Now I am all thine own--for all prepared :
Reply noi, lel nol now thy tale again, [loved. Thou lovest me not-nor knowist-or but the worst,
Thou lovest another-and I love in vain ;

Alas! this love--that hatred are the first (start,
Though fond as mine her bosom, form more fair, Oh! couldst thou prove my truth, thou wouldst not
1 rush throu:bi perii which she would not dare. Nor fear the fire that lights an Eastern hearl;
If that thy heari lo hers were truly dear,

'T is now the beacon of thy safely--now
Were I thine own--ibou wert not lonely here : It points within the port a Mainote prow:
An outlaw's spouse—nd Icave her lord to roam ! But in one chamber, where our path must lead,
What hath such gentle dame to do with home? There sleeps--he must not wake-the oppressor
But speak nol now-o'er thine and o'er my head

Seyd!"
Hangs the keen sabre by a single thread;
If thou hast courage still, and wouldst be frec,

“Gulnare-Gulnare-I never felt till now Receive this ponjard-rise-and follow me!"

My abject fortune, wither'd fame so low :

Seyd is mine enemy: had swept my band
“Ay-in my chains! my steps will gently tread, From carth with ruthless liul with open hand,
With these adornments, o'er each slumbering head! And therefore came I, in my bark of war,
Thou hast forgot-is this a garb for flight?

To smite the smiler with the scimelar;
Or is that instrument more fit for fight ?”

Such is my weapon-nol the secret knife“Misdoubling Corsair ! I have gain d the guard,

Who spares a woman's seeks not slumber's life.

Thine saved I gladly, lady, not for thisRipe for revolt, and greedy for reward.

Let me not deem that mercy shown amiss. A single word of mine removes that chain;

Now fare thee well--more peace be with thy breast ! Without some aid how here could I remain ? Well, since we met, bath sped my busy time,

Night wears apace-my last of earthly rest!" If in aught evil, for thy sake the crime:

'Rest! rest! by sunrise must thy sinews shake, The crime—'t is none to punish those of Seyd. And thy limbs writhe around the ready stake. That haled tyrant, Conrad-he must bleed! I heard the order-saw-I will not seeI see thee shudder-but my soul is changed If thou wilt perish, I will fall with thee. Wrong'd, spurn’d,reviled—andit shall be avenged- My life--my love--my hatred-all below Accused of whal till now my heart disdain'd Are on this casi-Corsair! 'l is but a blow! Too faithful, though to bitter bondage chain’d. Without it flight were idle-how evade Yes, smile !—but he had little cause lo sneer; His sure pursuit! my wrongs 1oo unrepaid, I was not treacherous then-nor thou too clear: My youth disgraced-the long long wasted years, But he has said it-and the jealous well,

One blow shall cancel with our future fears; Those tyrants, leasing, lempting to rebel,

But since the dagger suits thec less than brand, Deserve the fate their frelling lips foretell.

I'll try the firmness of a female hand. I never loved-he bought me-somewhat high The guards are gaind-one moment all were o'er-, Since with me came a heart he could not buy. Corsair! we meet in safety or no more ; I was a slave upmurmuring: he liath said,

If cris my feeble hand, the morning cloud But for his rescue I with thee had fled.

Will hover o'er thy scaffold, and my shroud.” ’T was false, thou know'si—but let such augurs rue,

IX.
Their words are omens insult renders trule.
Nor was thy respite granted to my prayer;

She turn'd, and vanish'd erc he could reply,
This flecting grace was only to prepare

But his glancc follow'd far with eager eye; New lornients for thy life, and my despair.

And gathering, as he could, the links that bound Mine loo he threatens; but his dotage still

His form, lo curl their length, and curb their sound, Wouli fait reserve me for his lordly will:

Since bar and bolt no more his steps preclude, When wearier of these fleeting charms and me,

He, fast as fetter'd limbus allow, pursued. There yawns the sack-and yonder rolls the sea!

'T was dark and winding, and he knew not where What, am I then a toy for dotard's play,

That passage led; nor lamp nor guard were there: To wear but till the gilding frets away ?

He sees a dusky glimmering-shall he seek I saw thee-lovcıl thee-owe thee all-would save,

Or shun that ray so indistinct and weak ? If but to show how grateful is a slave.

Chance guides his steps—a freshness seems to hear But had he not thus menaced fame and life

Full on his brow, as if from morning air(And well he keeps his oaths pronounced in strife), He reachd an open gallery-on his eye

Gleam'd the last star of night, the clearing sky: question was cited against bim, some years after, in a periodical Yet scarcely heeded these-another light Journal.-E.

From a lone chamber struck upon bis sight.

Towariis it he moved ; a scarcely-closing door Sunk he in contemplation, till the cape
Revealed the ray within, but nothing more. Where last he anchor'd rear'd its giant shape.
Wib hasty slep a figure outward past, (last! Ah!-since that fatal night, though brief the time,
Then pauscd-and turndl—and paused—'t is she at Had swept an age of terror, grief, and crime.
No poniard in that band-nor sign of ill-

As its far shadow frown'd above the mast,
"Thanks to that softening heart—she could not kill!" He veil'd his face, and sorrow'd as he pass'd;
Again he look’d, the wildness of her eye

He thought of all-Gonsalvo and his band, Starts from the day abrupt and fearfully.

His fieeting triumph and his failing hand; She slopp'l-Ihrew back her dark far-foaling hair, He thought on her afar, his lonely bride : That nrarly veil'd her face and bosom fair : He turn'd and saw-Gulnare, the homicide! As if she lale had bent her leaning head

XIV. Abose some oliject of her doubt or dread.

She watch'd his features till she could not bear They meci-upon her brow-known-forgol

Their freezing aspect and averted air, Her burrying hand had left-i was but a spol

And that strange fierceness foreign to her eye, los hue was all he saw, and scarce withstood

Fell quench'd in tears, ivo late to shed or dry. Oh! slight bul certain pledge of crime—'lis blood !

She knelt beside him, and his hand she press'd: X.

Thou mayst forgive, thoughi Alla's self detest; He had seen battle-he had brooded lone

But for that deed of darkness what wert thou ? O'er promised pangs lo sentenced guilt foreshown; Reproach me—but not yet--Oh! spare me now! He had been tempted—chasten'd-and the chain I am not what I seem—this fearful night Yet on his arms might ever there remain :

My brain bewilder'd-do not madden quite! But ne'er from strife-captivity-remorse

If I had never loved—though less my guilt, From all his feelings in their inmost force

Thou hadst not lived to-hate me—if thou wilt.” So thrillid-so shudder'd every crecping vein,

XV. As now they froze before that purple stain. She wrongs his thoughts, they more himself upbraid That spot of blood, that light but guilty streak, Than her, though undesign-d, the wrelch he made; Had banish'd all the beauty from her cheek! But speechless all, deep, dark, and unexprest, Blood he had view'd—could view unmoved--but They bleed within that silent cell-his breast. It flow'd in combat, or was shed by men! (then Still onward, fair the breeze, nor rough the surge, XI.

The blue waves sport around the stern they urge; "T is done—he nearly waked-but it is done.

Far on the horizon's verge appears a speck, Corsair! he perish'd—thou art dearly won.

A spot--a masi-a sail--an armed deck! All words would now be vain-away-away!

Their little bark her men of watch descry, Our bark is tossing—'t is already day,

And ampler canvass woos the wind from high; The few gain'd over now are wholly mine,

She bears her down majestically near, And these thy yet surviving band shall join :

Speed on her prow, and Terror in her tier; Anon my voice shall vindicate my hand,

A flash is seen-the ball beyond their bow,
When once our sail forsakes this hated strand.”

Booms harmless, hissing to the deep below:
XU.

Up rose keen Conrad from his silent trance,

A long long absent gladness in his glance: She clapp'd her hands—and through the gallery pour, 'Tis mine-my blood-red Nag! again-again--Equipp'd for flight, her vassals-Greek and Moor;

I am not all deserted on the main !” Silent but quick they stoop, his chains unbind;

They own the signal, answer to the hail, Once more his limbs are free as mountain wind!

Hoist out the boat at once, and slacken sail. But on his heavy heart such sadness sate,

“ 'Tis Conrad ! Conrad!” shouting from the deck, As if they there transferr'd that iron weight.

Command nor duty could their transport check! No words are ulter dat her sign, a door

With light alacrity and gaze of pride, Reveals the secret passage to the shore;

They view him mount once more his vessel's side ; The city lies behind-they speed, they reach

A smile relaxing in each rugged face, The glad waves dancing on the yellow beach; Their arms can scarce forbear a rough embrace. And Conrad, following at her beck, obey'd,

He, half forgetting danger and defeat, Nor cared he now if rescued or belray’d;

Returns their greeting as a chief may greet, Resistance were as useless as if Seyd

Wrings with a cordial grasp Anselmo's hand,
Yet lived to view the doom his ire decreed.

And feels he yet can conquer and command !
XIII.

XVI.
Einbark'd, the sail unfurl'd, the light breeze blew These greelings o'er, the feelings that o'erflow,
How much had Conrad's memory to review! Yet grieve to win him back without a blow;

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They sail'd prepared for vengeance-had they The haven hums with many a cheering sound
A woman's hand secured that deed her own, (known. The beacons blaze their wonted stations round,
She were their queen-less scrupulous are they The boals are darting o'er the curly bay,
Than haughty Conrad how they win their way. And sportive dolphins bend them through the spray;
With many an asking smile, and wondering stare, Even the hoarse sea-bird's shrill discordant shriek
They whisper round, and gaze upon Gulnare; Greets like the welcome of his tuneless beak!
And her, at once above-beneath-her sex, Beneath each lamp that through its lattice gleams,
Whom blood appalld not, their regards perplex. Their fancy paints the friends that trim the beamis:
To Conrad turns her faint imploring eye,

Oh! what can sanctify the joys of home,
She drops her veil, and stands in silence ly; Like Hope's gay glance from Ocean's troubled foam ?
Her arms are meekly folded on that breast,

XIX. Whicli-Conrad safe-10 fate resign’d the rest.

The lights are high on beacon and from bower, Though worse than frenzy could that bosom fill,

And 'midst them Conrad seeks Medora's tower: Extreme in love or hate, in good or ill,

He looks in vain—'t is strange-and all remark, The worst of crimes had left her woman still!

Amid so many, hers alone is dark.
XVII.

’T is strange-of yore its welcome never faild, This Conrad mark’d, and fell-ah! could he less!-(1) With the first boat descends he for the shore,

Nor now, perchance, extinguish’d, only veild. Hate of that deed—but grief for her distress;

And looks impatient on the lingering oar: What she has done no tears can wash away,

Oh! for a wing beyond the falcon's flight, And Heaven must punish on its angry day:

To bear him like an arrow to that height! But-it was done: he knew, whate’er her guilt,

With the first pause the resting rowers gave, For him that poniard smote, that blood was spilt;

He waits not-looks not-leaps into the wave, And he was free! and she for him had given

Strives through the surge, bestrides the beach, and Her all on earth, and more than all in heaven!

Ascends the path familiar to his eye.

(high And now he turn'd him to that dark-eyed slave Whose brow was bow'd beneath the glance he gave, Broke from within; and all was night around.

He reach'd his turret door-- he paused-no sound Who now seem'd changed and humbled :— faint He knock'd, and loudly-footstep nor reply But varying oft the colour of her cheek (and meek, Announced that any heard or deem'd him nigh; To dceper shades of paleness—all its red

He knock'd—but faintly-for his trembling hand That fearful spot which stain'd it from the dead!

Refused to aid his heavy heart's demand. He took that hand-it trembled-now too late

The portal opens—’t is a well-known faceSo soft in love-so wildly nerved in hate;

But not the form he panted to embrace. He clasp'd that hand-it trembled—and his own

Its lips are silent-twice his own essay'd, Had lost its firmness, and his voice its lone.

And faild to frame the question they delay'd ; “Gulnare!”—but she replied not—“dear Gulnare!"

He snatch'd the lamp-its light will answer allSie raised her eye-her only answer there

It quits his grasp, expiring in the fall. At once she souglit and sunk in his embrace :

He would not wait for that reviving rayIf he had driven her from that resting-place,

As soon could he have linger'd there for day; His had been more or less than mortal heart,

But, glimmering through the dusky corridore, Bu--good or ill-it bade her not depart.

Another checkers o'er the shadow'd floor; Perchance, but for the bodings of his breast,

His steps the chamber gain-his eyes behold
His latest virtue then had join'd the rest :

All that his heart believed not--yet foretold !
Yet even Mellora might forgive the kiss
That ask'd from form so fair no more than this,

XX.
The first, the last that Frailty stole from Faith He turn'd not-spoke not-sunk not-fix'd his look,
To lips where Love had lavish'd all his breath, And set the anxious frame that lately shook :
To lips-whose broken sighs such fragrance fling, He gazed-how long we gaze despite of pain,
As he had fann'd them freshly with his wing! And know, but dare not own, we gaze in vain!

In life itself she was so still and fair,
XVIII.

That death with gentler aspect wither'd there;
They gain by twilight's hour their lonely isle. And the cold flowers (2) her colder hand contain'd,
To them the very rocks appear to smile;

In that last grasp as tenderly were strain'd

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(1) "I have added a section for Gulnare, to fill up the parling, (2) In the Levant it is the custom lo strew flowers on the and dismiss lier more ceremoniously. if Mr. Gifford or you bodies of the dead, and in the hands of young persons to place a dislike, 't is but a sponge and another midnight." Lord B. to nosegay. Mr. M. Jan. 11, 1814.

As if she scarcely felt, but feign’d a sleep, None saw his trickling tears—perchance, if seen, And made it almost mockery yet to weep:

That useless flood of grief had never been : The long dark lashes fringed her lids of snow, Nor long they flow'd-he dried them, to depart, And veil'd—thought shrinks from all that lurk’a In helpless-hopeless-brokenness of heart: below

The sun goes forth—but Conrad's day is dim; Oh! o'er the eye Death most exerts his might, And the night cometh-ne'er to pass from him. And hurls the spirit from her throne of light! There is no darkness like the cloud of mind, Sinks those blue orbs in that long last eclipse, On Griefs vain eye-the blindest of the blind! But spares, as yet, the charm around her lips Which may not-dare not-see, but lurps aside Yet, yet they seem as they forbore to smile, To blackest shade-nor will endure a guide! Aod wish'd repose-but only for a while;

XXII. But the white shroud, and each extended tress,

His heart was form’d for softness—warp'd 10 wrong; Long—fair—but spread in utter lifelessness, Which, late the sport of every summer wind,

Betray'd too early, and beguiled too long; Escaped the baffled wreath that strove to bind;

Each feeling pure-as falls the dropping dew These—and the pale pure cheek, became the bier- Within the grot; like that had harden'd too; But she is nothing-wherefore is he here?

Less clear, perchance, ils earthly trials pass’d,

But sunk, and chill'd, and petrified at last. • XXI.

Yet tempests wear, and lightning cleaves the rock, He ask'd no question—all were answer'd now If such his heart, so shatter'd it the shock. By the first glance on ihal still marble brow. There grew one flower beneath its rugged brow, Il Fas enough-she died-what reck'd it how? Though dark the shade-it shelter'd-saved till now. The love of youth, the hope of better years, The thunder came, that bolt hath blasted both, The source of softest wishes, tenderest fears, The Granite's firmness, and the Lily's growth : The only living thing he could not hate,

The gentle plant hath left no leaf to tell Has reft at once-and he deserved his fate, Its tale, but shrunk and wither'd where il fell; But did not feel it less ;-the good explore, And of its cold protector, blacken round For

peace, those realms where guilt can never soar: But shiverd fragments on the barren ground ! The proud-the wayward—who have fix'd below

XXIV.
Their joy, and find this earth enough for woe,
Luse in that one their all-perchance a mite-

'T is morn-to venture on his lonely hour Bat who in patience parts with all delight ?

Few dare ; though now Anselmo sought his tower. full many a stoic eye and aspect stern

He was not there-nor seen along the shore; Risk hearts where grief hath little left to learn;

Ere night, alarm’d, their isle is traversed o’er: And many a withering thought lies hid, not lost,

Another morn-another bids them seek, a smiles that least befit who wear them most.

And shout his name till echo waxeth weak;

Mount-grotto-cavern-valley search'd in vain, XXI.

They find on shore a sea-boat's broken chain : S; those, that deepest feel, is ill exprest

Their hope revives—they follow o'er the main. The indistinctness of the suffering breast;

'T is idle all-moons roll on moons away, A bere thousand thoughts begin to end in one, And Conrad comes not-came not since that day: W bich seeks from all the refuge found in none; Nor trace, nor tidings of his doom declare No words suffice the secret soul to show,

Where lives his grief, or perish'd his despair! før Truth denies all eloquence to Woe.

Long mourn’d his band whom none could mourn Ja Conrad's stricken soul exhaustion prest,

beside; lo stupor almost lull'd it into rest;

And fair the monument they gave his bride: Su feeble now-his mother's softness crept For him they raise not the recording stoneTo those wild eyes, which like an infant's wept: His death yet dubious, deeds too widely known; 4 was the very weakness of his brain,

He left a Corsair's name to other times, Which thus confess'd without relieving pain. Link'd with one virtue, and a thousand crimes. (1)

I That the point of honour which is represented in one in- cannot fail to interest some of our readers. Barrataria is a bay, Balet

. of Conrad's character has not been carried beyond the or a narrow arm of the Gull of Mexico; it runs through a rich teeds of probability, may perhaps be in some degree confirmed by but very flat country, until it reaches within a mile of the Mis2 failoving adccdole of a brother buccaneer in the year 1814: sissipi river, fifteen miles below the city of New Orleans. The -- Our readers bave all seen the account of the enterprise against bay has branches almost innumerable, in which persons can lie the pales of Barralaria; but, few we believe, were informed of concealed from the severest scrutiny. It communicates with e sigation, history, or nature of that establishment. For the three lakes which lie on the south-west side, and these, with the Dissation of such as were unacquainted with it, we have pro- lake of the same name, and which lies contiguous to the sea, ered from a friend the following interesting narrative of the where there is an island formed by the two arms of this lake and Baia lacts, of which he has personal knowledge, and which the sca. The east and west points of this island were fortified,

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