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He cannot curb his haughty mood, Nor I forgive a father's blood.

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,
By hope unbless'd, of fame bereft.
While thou—whose softness long endear'd,
Though it unmann'd me, still had cheerd-
To Brusa's walls for safety sent,
Awaitedst 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 season broke, On promiso to return before The day when Giaffir's charge was o'er. 'Tis 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 was mine!

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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, 1

And held that post in his Serai

Which holds he here-- he saw him dio :
But what could single slavery do?
Arenge 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
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!

1

XIX.
“ 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:
I sought by turns, and saw them all ;'

But when and where I join'd the crew, With whom I'm pledged to rise or fall,

When all that we design to do
Is done, 'twill then be timno more meet
To tell thee, when the talo's complete.

XVII. * 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 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 donce quaff'd, they ne'er repine : Our prophet might forgive the slaves ;

They're only infidels in wine.

XX. “ 'Tis true, they are a lawless brood, But rough in form, nor mild in mood; And every creed, and every race, With them hath found—may find a place : 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 fall, Have made them fitting instruments For 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 FrankAnd 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 Rayahs' from their fate.

XVIII. "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

1 The Turkish notions of almost all islands are confined to the Archipelago, the sea alluded to.

Lambro Canzani, a Greek, famous for his efforts in 1789– i for the independence of his country. Abandoned by the Russians, he became a pirate, and the Archipelago was the

scene of his enterprises. He is said to be still alive at Petersburg. He and Riga are the two most celebrated of the Greek revolutionists.

3" Rayahs,”—all who pay the capitation tax, called the “Haratch."

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So let them ease their hearts with prate

I like the rest must use my skill or strength, Of equal rights, which man ne'er knew;

But ask no land beyond my sabre's length: I have a love for freedom too.

Power sways but by division-her resource Ay! let me like the ocean-Patriarch' roamn,

The blest alternative of fraud or force ! Or only know on land the Tartar's home !

Ours be the last ; in time deceit may come My tent on shore, my galley on the sea,

When cities cage us in a social home : Are more than cities and Serais to me:

There ev'n thy soul might err-how oft the heart Borne by my steed, or wafted by my sail,

Corruption shakes which peril could not part ! Across the desert, or before the gale,

Aud woman, moro than man, when death or wo, Bound where thou wilt, my barb! or glide, my prow! Or even disgrace, would lay her lover low, But be the star that guides the wanderer, Thou ! Sunk in the lap of luxury will shameThou, my Zuleika, share and bless my bark;

Away suspicion —not Zuleika's name! The Dove of peace and promise to mine ark:8 But life is hazard at the best ; and here Or, since that hope denied in worlds of strife,

No more remains to win, and much to fear: Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life!

Yes, fear !—the doubt, the dread of losing thee, The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, By Osman's power, and Giaffir's stern decree. And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray!"

That dread shall vanish with the favoring gale, Bless'd-as the Muezzin's strain from Mecca's wall Which Love to-night hath promised to my sail : To pilgrims pure and prostrate at his call;

No danger daunts the pair his smile hath bless'd, Soft-as the melody of youthful days,

Their steps still roving, but their hearts at rest. That steals the trembling tear of speechless praise ; With thee all toils are sweet, each clime hath charms; Dear-as his native song to Exile's ears,

Earth-sea alike-our world within our arms! Shall sound each tone thy long-loved voice endears. Ay-let the loud winds whistle o'er the deck, For thee in those bright isles is built a bower

So that those arms cling closer round my

neck: Blooming as Aden in its earliest hour.

The deepest murmur of this lip shall be
A thousand swords, with Selim's heart and hand, No sigh for safety, but a prayer for thee!
Wait-wave-defend--destroy-at thy command ! The war of elements no fears impart
Girt by my band, Zuleika at my sido,

To Love, whose deadliest bane is human Art:
The spoil of nations shall bedeck my bride.

There lie the only rocks our course can check: The Harem's languid years of listless ease

Here moments inenace--there are years of wreck! Are well resign’d for cares-for joys like these : But hence ye thoughts that rise in Horror's shape! Not blind to fato, I see, where'er I rove,

This hour bestows, or ever bars escape. Unnumber'd perils,—but one only love!

Few words remain of mine my tale to close :
Yet well my toils shall that fond breast repay, Of thine but one to waft us from our foes ;
Though fortune frown, or falser friends betray. Yea-foes—to me will Giaffir's hate decline?
How dear the dream in darkest hours of ill,

And is not Osman, who would part us, thine ?
Should all be changed, to find thee faithful still !
Be but thy soul, like Selim's, firmly shown;
To thee be Selim's tender as thine own;

XXI.
To soothe each sorrow, share in each delight,

“ His head and faith from doubt and death Blend every thought, do all—but disunite!

Return’d in time my guard to save ; Once free, 'tis mine our horde again to guide :

Few heard, none told, that o'er the wave Friends to each other, foes to aught beside :o

From isle to isle I roved the while: Yet there we follow but the bent assign'd

And since, though parted from my band,
By fatal Nature to man's warring kind :

Too seldom now I leave the land,
Mark! where his carnage and his conquests cease! No deed they've done, nor deed shall do,
He makes a solitude, and calls it-peace!

Ere I have heard and doom'd it too:

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1 The first of voyages is one of the few with which the PrintMussulmans profess much acquaintance.

" And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray ;

Or2 The wandering life of the Arabs, Tartars, and Turkomans, will be found well detailed in any book of Eastern

" And

I gilds
tints

the hope of morning with its ray ; travels. That it possesses a charm peculiar to itself, cannot

Orbe denied. A young French renegado confessed to Chateau

“ And gilds to-morrow's hope with heavenly ray. briand, that he never found himself alone, galloping in the desert, without a sensation approaching to rapture, which I wish you would ask Mr. Gifford which of them is best ; was indescribable.

or rather, not worst.") 3 [The longest, as well as most splendid, of those pas

6 “Jannat al Aden," the perpetual abode, the Mussulman sages, with which the perusal of his own strains, during re paradise. vision, inspired him, was that rich flow of eloquent feeling 6 [" You wanted some reflections, and I send you, per which follows the couplet,-“ Thou, my Zuleika, share and Selim, eighteen lines in decent couplets, of a pensive, if not bless my bark," &c.-a strain of poetry, which, for energy an ethical, tendency. One more revise---positively the last, and tenderness of thought, for music of versification, and if decently done-at any rate, the penultimate. Mr. Can. selectness of diction, has, throughout the greater portion, ning's approbation, I need not say, inakes me proud.* To of it, but few rivals in either ancient or modern song. - make you some amends for eternally pestering you with alMOORE.)

terations, I send you Cobbett, -to confirm your orthodoxy." * [Originally written thus

Lord B. to Mr. Murray.) * And tints to-morrow with

{
an

* (“Then if my lip once murmurs, it must be."-MS.) The following note being annexed :-"Mr. Murray, choose

* (Mr. Canning's note was as follow's :-"I received the which of the iwo epithets, . fancied,' or 'airy,' may be best ;

books, and among them, the Bride of Abydos.' It is very, or if neither will do, tell me, and I will dream another."

very beautiful. Lord Byron (when I met hiin, one day, at

a dinner at Mr. Ward's) was so kind as to promise to give In a subsequent letter, he says :-" Instead of

me a copy of it. I mention this, not to save my purchase, And tints to-morrow with a fancied ray,

but because I should be really fattered by the present."]

a fancied ray."

I form the plan, decree the spoil,

Tis fit I oftener share the toil. But now too long I've held thine ear; Tine presses, floats my bark, and here We leave behind but hate and fear To-morrow Osman with his train Arrives-to-night must break thy chain: And wouldst thou save that haughty Bey,

Perchance, his life who gave thee thine, With me, this hour away-away!

But yet, though thou art plighted mine, Wouldst thou recall thy willing vow, Appalld by truths imparted now, Here rest 1-not to see thee wed: But be that peril on my head!"

XXIV.
One bound he made, and gaind the sand :

Already at his feet hath sunk
The foremost of the prying band,

A gasping head, a quivering trunk:
Another falls—but round him close
A swarming circle of his foes ;
From right to left his path he cleft,

And almost met the meeting wave:
His boat appears—not five oars' length
His comrades strain with desperate strength-

Oh! are they yet in time to save ?
His feet the foremost breakers lave;
His band are plunging in the bay,
Their sabres glitter through the spray ;
Wet-wild-unwearied to the strand
They struggle—now they touch the land !
They come— tis but to add to slaughter-
His heart's best blood is on the water.

XXII.
Zuleika, mate and motionless,
Stood like that statue of distress,
When, her last hope forever gone,
The mother harden'd into stone;
All in the maid that eve could see
Was but a younger Niobé.
But ere her lip, or even her eye,
Esard to speak, or look reply,
Beneath the garden's wicket porch
Far flash'd on high a blazing torch!
Another-and another-and another-
"Oh! Ay - no more—yet now my more than

brother !"
Far, wide, through every thicket spread,
The fearful lights are gleaming red;
Nor these alone-for each right hand
Is ready with a sheathless brand.
They part, pursue, return, and wheel
With searching flambeau, shining steel ;
And last of all, his sabre waving,
Stern Giaffir in bis fury raving :
And now almost they touch the cave-
Oh! must that grot be Selim's grave?

XXV.
Escaped from shot, unharm’d by steel,
Or scarcely grazed its force to feel,
Had Selim won, betray'd, beset,
To where the strand and billows met:
There as his last step left the land,
And the last death-blow dealt his hand-
Ah! whereforo did he turn to look

For her his eye but sought in vain?
That pause, that fatal gaze he took,

Hath doom'd his death, or fix'd his chain. Sad proof, in peril and in pain, How late will Lover's hope remain! His back was to the dashing spray ; Behind, but close, his comrades lay, When, at the instant, hiss'd the ball“ So may the foes of Giaffir fall !" Whose voice is heard? whose carbine rang ? Whose bullet through the night-air sang, Too nearly, deadly aim'd to err? 'Tis thine-Abdallah's Murderer! The father slowly rued thy hate, The son hath found a quicker fate : Fast from his breast the blood is bubbling, The whiteness of the sea-foam troublingIf aught his lips essay'd to groan, The rushing billows choked the tone!

XXIII. Dauntless he stood—“'Tis come-soon past One kiss, Zuleika—'tis my last :

Bat yet my band not far from shore May hear this signal, see the flash; Yet now too few—the attempt were rash:

No matter-yet one effort more." Forth to the cavern mouth he stepp'd ;

His pistol's echo rang on high : Zuleika started not, nor wept,

Despair benumb'd her breast and eye! * They hear me not, or if they ply Their oars, 'tis but to see me die; That sonnd hath drawn my foes more nigh. Then forth my father's scimitar, 'Thou ne'er hast seen less equal war! Farewell, Zuleika "Sweet! retire :

Yet stay within-here linger safe,
At thes his rage will only chafe.
Stir not-lest even to thee perchance
Saune erring blade or ball should glance.
Fear'st thou for him ?-may I expire
If in this strife I seek thy sire !
No—though by him that poison pour'd:
No-though again he call me coward!
Bat tamely shall I meet their steel?
Nomes each crest save his may feel!"

XXVI.
Morn slowly rolls the clouds away;

Few trophies of the fight are there : The shouts that shook the midnight-bay Are silent; but some signs of fray

That strand of strife may bear, And fragments of each shiver'd brand; Steps stamp'd ; and dash'd into the sand The print of many a struggling hand

May there be mark'd ; nor far remote

A broken torch, an oarless boat ; And tangled on the weeds that heap The beach where shelving to the deep

There lies a white capote !
'Tis rent in twain-one dark-red stain
The wave yet ripples o'er in vain :

But where is ho who wore?
Ye! who would o'er his relics weep,

1

1

Go, seek them where the surges sweep
Their burden round Sigæum's steep

And cast on Lemnos' shore :
The sea-birds shriek above the prey,
O'er which their hungry beaks delay,
As shaken on his restless pillow,
His head heaves with the heaving billow ;
That hand, whose motion is not life,
Yet feebly seems to menace strife,
Flung by the tossing tide on high,

Then leveli'd with the wave-
What recks it, though that corse shall lie

Within a living grave?
The bird that tears that prostrate form
Hath only robb’d the meaner worm ;
The only heart, the only eye
Had bled or wept to see him die,
Had seen those scatter'd limbs composed,

And mourn'd above his turban stone,
That heart hath burst—that eye was closed-

Yea-closed before his own!

Now let it tear thy beard in idle grief:
Thy pride of heart, thy bride for Osman's bed,
She, whom thy sultan had but seen to wed,

Thy Daughter's dead!
Hope of thine age, thy twilight's lonely beam,

The Star hath set that shono on Helle's stream. What quench'd its ray ?-the blood that thou hast

shed! Hark! to the hurried question of Despair: “ Where is my child ?" - an Echo answery

“ Where !4

XXVII.
By Helle's stream there is a voice of wail !
And woman's eye is wet-man's cheek is palo:
Zuleika! last of Giaffir's race,

Thy destined lord is come too late :
He sees not-ne'er shall see thy face!

Can he not hear
The loud Wul-wulleho warn his distant ear?

Thy handmaids weeping at the gate,
The Koran-chanters of the hymn of fate,

The silent slaves with folded arms that wait,
Sighs in the hall, and shrieks upon the gale,

Tell him thy tale!
Thou didst not view thy Selim fall !
That fearful moment when he left the cave

Thy heart grew chill :
He was thy hope—thy joy—thy love—thine all-
And that last thought on him thou couldst not save

Sufficed to kill;
Burst forth in one wild cry-and all was still.

Peace to thy broken heart, and virgin grave!
Ah! happy! but of life to lose the worst !
That grief—though deep-though fatal—was thy

first! Thrice happy! ne'er to feel nor fear the force Of absence, shame, pride, hate, revenge, remorse! And, oh! that pang where more than madness lies! The worm that will not sleep-and never dies; Thought of the gloomy day and ghastly night, That dreads the darkness, and yet loathes the light, That winds around, and tears the quivering heart! Ah! wherefore not consume it-and depart! Wo to thee, rash and unrelenting chief!

Vainly thou heap'st the dust upon thy head, Vainly the sackcloth o'er thy limbs dost spread; By that same hand Abdallah-Selim bled.

XXVIII. Within the place of thousand tombs

That shine beneath, while dark abovo The sad but living cypress glooms,

And withers not, though branch and leaf Are stamp'd with an eternal grief,

Like early unrequited Love,
One spot exists, which ever blooms,

Ev’n in that deadly grove-
A single roso is shedding there

Its lonely lustre, meek and pale: It looks as planted by Despair

So white-so faint—the slightest gale Might whirl the leaves on high ;

And yet, though storms and blight assail, And hands more rude than wintry sky

May wring it from the stem—in vain

To-morrow sees it bloom again! The stalk some spirit gently rears, And waters with celestial tears;

For well may maids of Helle deem
That this can be no earthly flower,
Which mocks the tempest's withering hour,
And buds unshelter'd by a bower;
Nor droops, though spring refuse her shower,

Nor woos the summer beam:
To it the livelong night there sings

A bird unseen-but not remote:
Invisible his airy wings,
But soft as harp that Houri strings

His long entrancing note!
It were the Bulbul; but his throat,

Though mournful, pours not such a strain:
For they who listen cannot leave
The spot, but linger there and grieve,

As if they loved in vain !
And yet so sweet the tears they shed,
'Tis sorrow so unmix'd with dread,
They scarce can bear the morn to break

That melancholy spell,
And longer yet would weep and wake,

He sings so wild and well !
But when the day-blush bursts from high
Expires that magic melody.
And some have been who could believe,
(So fondly youthful dreams deceive,

1 [" While the Salsette lay off the Dardanelles, Lord By slaves" are the men, whose notions of decorum forbid com. ron siw the body of a man who had been executed by being plaint in public. cast into the sea, floating on the stream to and fro with the *“I came to the place of my birth, and cried, The friends treinbling of the water, which gave to its arms the effect of of iny youth, where are they?' and an Echo answered, scaring away several sea-fowlihat were hovering to devour. • Where are they?!"- From an Arabic MS. The above quoThis incident has been strikingly depicted."-GALT.)

tation (from which the idea in the text is taken) must be ? A turban is carved in stone above the graves of men

already familiar to every reader: it is given in the first an

notation, p. 67, of “ The Pleasures of Memory;" a puem so only.

well known as to render a reference almost superfluous; * The death-song of the Turkish women. The “silent but to whose pages all will be delighted to recur.

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TO THOMAS MOORE, ESQ.

only regret, since our first acquaintance, has been

the years he had lost before it commenced, to add MY DEAR MOORE,

the humble but sincere suffrage of friendship, to I DEDICATE to you the last production with which the voice of more than one nation. It will at least I shall trespass on public patience, and your indul prove to you, that I have neither forgotten the i gence for some years; and I own that I feel anxious gratification derived from your society, nor aban

to avail myself of this latest and only opportunity doned the prospect of its renewal, whenever your of scoring my pages with a name, consecrated by leisure or inclination allows you to atone to your unshaken public principle, and the most undoubted friends for too long an absence.

It is said among I and Faroos talents. While Ireland ranks you among those friends, I trust truly, that you are engaged in the firmest of her patriots; while you stand alone the composition of a poem whose scene will be laid the first of her bards in her estimation, and Britain in the East; none can do those scenes so much jusrepeats and ratifies the decree, permit one, whose tice. The wrongs of your own country, the mag

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:

1 ** And airy tongues that syllable men's names."--Milton. 3 [** The Bride,' such as it is, is my first entire composiFor a belief that the souls of the dead inhabit the form of

tion of any length, (except the Satire, and be d-d to it,) for Wewe need not travel to the East. Lord Lyttleton's ghost

the Giaour' is but a string of passages, and · Childe Harold' story, the belief of the Duchess of Kendal, that George 1. flew is, and I rather think always will be, unconcluded. It was Do ber window in the shape of a raven, (see Orford's Remi

published on Thursday, the 2d of December; but how it is | Wences,) and many other instances, bring this superstition

liked, I know not. Whether it succeeds or not, is no fault Learer home. The most singular was the whim of a Wor

of the public. against whom I have no coinplaint. But I terlady, who, believing her daughter to exist in the shape am much more indebted to the tale than I can ever be to of a singiog bird, literally furnished her pew in the cathedral the most important reader; as it wrung my thoughts from Fth cages full of the kind ; and as she was rich, and a bene

reality to imagination ; from selfish regrets to vivid recolfaztress ia beautifying the church, no objection was made to

lections, and recalled me to i country replete with the ber barmiess folly. For this anecdote, see Orford's Leiters. brightest and darkest, but always most lively colors of my * The heroine of this poem, the blooming Zuleika, is all

Inemory."-Byron Diary, Dec. 5, 1813.) parts and loveliness. Never was a faultless character more

*[** The Corsair" was begun on the 18th, and finished on I delicately or more justly delineated. Her piety, her intelli

the 31st of December, 1813; a rapidity of composition Berice, her strict sense of duty, and her undeviating love of which, taking into consideration the extraordinary beauty truth, appear to have been originally blended in her mind,

of the poein, is, perhaps, unparalleled in the literary hisrather than inculcated by education. She is always natural,

tory of the country. Lord Byron states it to have been always attractive, always affectionate; and it must be ad

written "con amore, and very much froin existence." In the tied that her affections are not unworthily bestowed.

original MS. the chief female character was called FranSelun, while an orphan and dependent, is never degraded

cesca, in whose person the author meant to delineate one of y calamity; when better hopes are presented to him, his

his acquaintance; but while the work was at press, he borant spirit rises with his expectations: he is enterprising,

changed the name to Medora.) PRE Do more rashness than becomes his youth ; and when $(This political allusion having been objected to by a disappointed in the success of a well-concerted project, he friend, Lord Byron sent a second dedication to Mr. Moore, Deets, with intrepidity, the fate to which he is exposed with a request that he would "take his choice." It ran as through his own generous forbearance. To us,

* The Bride follows: of Aby dos" appears to be, in every respect, superior to * The Giaour," though, in point of diction, it has been, per

“MY DEAR MOORE,

January 7th, 1814. haps, less warmly admired. We will not argue this point, "I had written to you a long letter of dedication, which be will samply observe, that what is read with ease is gen I

suppress, because, though it contained something relating erally real with rapidity; and that many beauties of style to you, which every one had been glad to hear, yet there stich escape observation in a simple and connected narra was too much about politics and poesy, and all things what

soever, ending with that topic on which most men are and perplexing transitions. It is only when a traveller is fluent, and none very amusing.---one's self. It might have ubized to stop on his journey, that he is disposed to ex been rewritten; but to what purpose? My praise could add amine and admire the prospect.'_GEORGE Ellis.)

nothing to your well-earned and firmly established fame ;

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