There's fearful news from

banks,

Danube's

And Night's descending shadows hide That field with blood bedew'd in vain,

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:
it 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 My tale, my purpose, and my fear : I am not, love! what I appear."

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: That mighty heap of gather'd ground Which Ammon's son ran proudly round, 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-thy very dust is gone!

Late, 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 struggling 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 ottoman
Are thrown the fragrant beads of amber,
O'er which her fairy fingers ran;
Near these, with emerald rays beset,
(How could she thus that gem forget?)
Her mother's sainted amulet,

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 tone, and hand,
All that a careless eye could see
In him was some young Galiongée.1

"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 now of love;
That, let time, truth, and peril prove:
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-the day
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,

1 A Turkish sailor.

Thy sister-friend-Zuleika still. hou led'st me here perchance to kill ; If thou hast cause for vengeance, see! ly breast is offer'd-take thy fill! Far better with the dead to be Than live thus nothing now to thee! 'erhaps far worse, for now I know Why Giaffir alway seem'd thy foe; And I, alas! am Giaffir's child,

or whom thou wert contemn'd, reviled. f not thy sister-wouldst thou save ly life, oh! bid me be thy slave!"

My slave, Zuleika !-nay, I'm thine: But, gentle love, this transport calm, hy lot shall yet be link'd with mine; swear it by our Prophet's shrine, And be that thought thy sorrow's balm.

o may the Koran verse display'd
Ipon its steel direct my blade,
a danger's hour to guard us both,
is I preserve that awful oath!

he name in which thy heart hath prided Must change; but, my Zuleika, know, hat tie is widen'd, not divided, Although thy Sire's my deadliest foe. ly father was to Giaffir all

That Selim late was deem'd to thee: hat brother wrought a brother's fall, But spared, at least, my infancy; and lull'd me with a vain deceit hat yet a like return may meet. le rear'd me, not with tender help, But like the nephew of a Cain; le watched me like a lion's whelp, That gnaws and yet may break his chain.

My father's blood in every vein s boiling; but for thy dear sake To present vengeance will I take ; Though here I must no more remain. But first, beloved Zuleika ! hear low Giaffir wrought this deed of fear.

How first their strife to rancor grew, If love or envy made them foes, t matters little if I knew ;

n fiery spirits, slights, though few And thoughtless, will disturb repose. n war Abdallah's arm was strong, Lemember'd yet in Bosniac song, And Paswan's rebel hordes attest How little love they bore such guest: His death is all I need relate, he stern effect of Giaffir's hate; And how my birth disclosed to me,

hate er beside it makes, hath made me free.

"When Paswan, after years of strife,
At last for power, but first for life,
In Widdin's walls too proudly sate,
Our Pachas rallied round the state;
Nor last nor least in high command,
Each brother led a separate band;
They gave their horse-tails 1 to the wind,
And mustering in Sophia's plain
Their tents were pitch'd, their post as-
sign'd;

To one, alas! assign'd in vain!
What need of words! the deadly bowl,
By Giaffir's order drugged and given,
With venom subtle as his soul,

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

He, when the hunter's sport was up, But little deem'd a brother's wrath To quench his thirst had such a cup : The bowl a bribed attendant bore; He drank one draught, nor needed more! If thou my tale, Zuleika, doubt, Call Haroun-he can tell it out.

"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 honors were obtain'd

By him a brother's murder stain'd;
'Tis 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.

"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 insured.

Removed he too from Roumelie
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 sends-
Slaves, 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

swords;

on their

To hear whose desolating tale Would make thy waning cheek 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 quaff'd, they ne'er repine: Our prophet might forgive the slaves: They're only infidels in wine.

"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 scoff'd,
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,

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 resign. ing,

My thraldom for a season broke,
On promise to return before

The day when Giaffir's charge was o'er.
'T is vain-my tongue cannot impart
My almost drunkenness of heart,
When first this liberated eye
Survey'd Earth, Ocean, Sun, and Sky,
As if my spirit pierced them through,
And all their inmost wonders knew!
One word alone can paint to thee
That more than feeling-I was Free!
E'en for thy presence ceased to pine;
The World-nay, Heaven itself

mine!

"The shallop of a trusty Moor Convey'd me from this idle shore ; I long'd to see the isles that gem Old Ocean's purple diadem:

Wa

place;

find

But open speech, and ready hand. Obedience to their chief's command; A soul for every enterprise,

That never sees with terror's eyes ; Friendship for each, and faith to all, And vengeance vow'd for those who fa Have made them fitting instrumentFor more than ev'n my own intents. And some-and I have studied all

Distinguish'd from the vulgar rank But chiefly to my council call

The wisdom of the cautious Frank And some to higher thoughts aspire. The last of Lambro's patriots there Anticipated freedom share ;

And oft around the cavern fire

On visionary schemes debate,

To snatch the Rayabs from their fate.
So let them ease their hearts with prate
Of equal rights, which man ne'er knew;
I have a love for freedom too.

Ay! let me like the ocean-Patriarch roam
Or only know on land the Tartar's home!
My tent on shore, my galley on the sea,
Are more than cities and Serais to me:
Borne by my steed, or wafted by my sail,
Across the desert, or before the gale,
Bound where thou wilt, my barb! or
glide, my prow!

But be the star that guides the wanderer, Thou!

Thou, my Zuleika, share and bless my bark:

The Dove of peace and promise to mine ark!

Or, since that hope denied in worlds of strife.

Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life!

The evening beam that smiles the clouds

away,

And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray! Blest-as the Muezzin's strain from Mecca's wall

To pilgrims pure and prostrate at his call:

Soft as the melody of youthful days, That steals the trembling tear of speechless praise;

Dear-as his native song to Exile's ears, Stall sound each tone thy long-loved voice endears.

For thee in those bright isles is built a bower

Blooming as Aden in its earliest hour.
A thousand swords, with Selim's heart
and hand,
Wait-wave-defend-destroy-at thy

command!

When cities cage us in a social home: There ev'n thy soul might err-how oft the heart

Corruption shakes which peril could not part!

And woman, more than man, when death or woe,

Or even Disgrace, would lay her lover low,

Sunk in the lap of Luxury will shame--Away suspicion !-not Zuleika's name! But life is hazard at the best; and here No more remains to win, and much to fear:

Yes, fear! the doubt, the dread of losing thee,

By Osman's power, and Giaffir's stern decree.

That dread shall vanish with the favouring gale,

Which Love to-night hath promised to my sail :

No danger daunts the pair his smile hath blest,

Their steps still roving, but their hearts

at rest.

With thee all toils are sweet, each clime hath charms;

Earth-sea alike-our world within our arms!

Ay-let the loud winds whistle o'er the deck,

So that those arms cling closer round my neck: