Selected Poems

by Byron

  380

  And morning came – and still thou wert afar.

  Oh! how the chill blast on my bosom blew,

  And day broke dreary on my troubled view,

  And still I gazed and gazed – and not a prow

  Was granted to my tears – my truth – my vow!

  385

  At length – ’twas noon – I hail’d and blest the mast

  That met my sight – it near’d – Alas! it past!

  Another came – Oh God! ’twas thine at last!

  Would that those days were over! wilt thou ne’er,

  My Conrad! learn the joys of peace to share?

  390

  Sure thou hast more than wealth, and many a home

  As bright as this invites us not to roam:

  Thou know’st it is not peril that I fear:

  I only tremble when thou art not here;

  Then not for mine, but that far dearer life,

  395

  Which flies from love and languishes for strife –

  How strange that heart, to me so tender still,

  Should war with nature and its better will!’

  ‘Yea, strange indeed – that heart hath long been changed;

  Worm-like ’twas trampled – adder-like avenged,

  400

  Without one hope on earth beyond thy love,

  And scarce a glimpse of mercy from above.

  Yet the same feeling which thou dost condemn,

  My very love to thee is hate to them,

  So closely mingling here, that disentwined,

  405

  I cease to love thee when I love mankind:

  Yet dread not this – the proof of all the past

  Assures the future that my love will last;

  But – Oh, Medora! nerve thy gentler heart,

  This hour again – but not for long – we part.’

  410

  ‘This hour we part! – my heart foreboded this:

  Thus ever fade my fairy dreams of bliss.

  This hour – it cannot be – this hour away!

  Yon bark hath hardly anchor’d in the bay;

  Her consort still is absent, and her crew

  415

  Have need of rest before they toil anew:

  My love! thou mock’st my weakness; and wouldst steel

  My breast before the time when it must feel;

  But trifle now no more with my distress,

  Such mirth hath less of play than bitterness.

  420

  Be silent, Conrad! – dearest! come and share

  The feast these hands delighted to prepare;

  Light toil! to cull and dress thy frugal fare!

  See, I have pluck’d the fruit that promised best,

  And where not sure, perplex’d, but pleased, I guess’d

  425

  At such as seem’d the fairest; thrice the hill

  My steps have wound to try the coolest rill;

  Yes! thy sherbet to-night will sweetly flow,

  See how it sparkles in its vase of snow!

  The grapes’ gay juice thy bosom never cheers;

  430

  Thou more than Moslem when the cup appears:

  Think not I mean to chide – for I rejoice

  What others deem a penance is thy choice.

  But come, the board is spread; our silver lamp

  Is trimm’d, and heeds not the sirocco’s damp:

  435

  Then shall my handmaids while the time along,

  And join with me the dance, or wake the song;

  Or my guitar, which still thou lov’st to hear,

  Shall soothe or lull – or, should it vex thine ear,

  We’ll turn the tale, by Ariosto told,

  440

  Of fair Olympia loved and left of old.1

  Why – thou wert worse than he who broke his vow

  To that lost damsel, shouldst thou leave me now;

  Or even that traitor chief – I’ve seen thee smile,

  When the clear sky show’d Ariadne’s Isle,

  445

  Which I have pointed from these cliffs the while:

  And thus half sportive, half in fear, I said,

  Lest Time, should raise that doubt to more than dread,

  Thus Conrad, too will quit me for the main:

  And he deceived me – for – he came again!’

  450

  ‘Again – again – and oft again – my love!

  If there be life below, and hope above,

  He will return – but now the moments bring

  The time of parting with redoubled wing:

  The why – the where – what boots it now to tell

  455

  Since all must end in that wild word – farewell!

  Yet would I fain – did time allow – disclose –

  Fear not – these are no formidable foes;

  And here shall watch a more than wonted guard,

  For sudden siege and long defence prepared:

  460

  Nor be thou lonely – though thy lord’s away,

  Our matrons and thy handmaids with thee stay;

  And this thy comfort – that, when next we meet,

  Security shall make repose more sweet.

  List! – ’tis the bugle – Juan shrilly blew –

  465

  One kiss – one more – another – Oh! Adieu!’

  She rose – she sprung – she clung to his embrace,

  Till his heart heaved beneath her hidden face.

  He dared not raise to his that deep-blue eye,

  Which downcast droop’d in tearless agony.

  470

  Her long fair hair lay floating o’er his arms,

  In all the wildness of dishevell’d charms;

  Scarce beat that bosom where his image dwelt

  So full – that feeling seem’d almost unfelt!

  Hark – peals the thunder of the signal-gun!

  475

  It told ’twas sunset – and he cursed that sun.

  Again – again – that form he madly press’d,

  Which mutely clasp’d, imploring caress’d!

  And tottering to the couch his bride he bore,

  One moment gazed – as if to gaze no more;

  480

  Felt – that for him earth held but her alone,

  Kiss’d her cold forehead – turn’d – is Conrad gone?

  XV

  ‘And is he gone?’ – on sudden solitude

  How oft that fearful question will intrude!

  ‘ ’Twas but an instant past – and here he stood!

  485

  And now’ – without the portal’s porch she rush’d,

  And then at length her tears in freedom gush’d;

  Big – bright – and fast, unknown to her they fell;

  But still her lips refused to send – ‘Farewell!’

  For in that word – that fatal word – howe’er

  490

  We promise – hope – believe – there breathes despair.

  O’er every feature of that still, pale face,

  Had sorrow fix’d what time can ne’er erase:

  The tender blue of that large loving eye

  Grew frozen with its gaze on vacancy,

  495

  Till – Oh, how far! – it caught a glimpse of him,

  And then it flow’d – and phrensied seem’d to swim

  Through those long dark and glistening lashes dew’d

  With drops of sadness oft to be renew’d.

  ‘He’s gone!’ – against her heart that hand is driven,

  500

  Convulsed and quick – then gently raised to heaven;

  She look’d and saw the heaving of the main;

  The white sail set – she dared not look again;

  But turn’d with sickening soul within the gate –

  ‘It is no dream – and I am desolate!’

  XVI

  505

>   From crag to crag descending – swiftly sped

  Stern Conrad down, nor once he turn’d his head;

  But shrunk whene’er the windings of his way

  Forced on his eye what he would not survey,

  His lone, but lovely dwelling on the steep,

  510

  That hail’d him first when homeward from the deep:

  And she - the dim and melancholy star,

  Whose ray of beauty reach’d him from afar,

  On her he must not gaze, he must not think,

  There he might rest – but on Destruction’s brink:

  515

  Yet once almost he stopp’d – and nearly gave

  His fate to chance, his projects to the wave:

  But no – it must not be – a worthy chief

  May melt, but not betray to woman’s grief.

  He sees his bark, he notes how fair the wind,

  520

  And sternly gathers all his might of mind.

  Again he hurries on – and as he hears

  The clang of tumult vibrate on his ears,

  The busy sounds, the bustle of the shore,

  The shout, the signal, and the dashing oar;

  525

  As marks his eye the seaboy on the mast,

  The anchors rise, the sails unfurling fast,

  The wavin kerchiefs of the crowd that ure

  That mute adieu to those who stem the surge;

  And more than all, his blood-red flag aloft,

  530

  He marvell’d how his heart could seem so soft.

  Fire in his glance, and wildness in his breast,

  He feels of all his former self possest;

  He bounds – he flies – until his footsteps reach

  The verge where ends the cliff, begins the beach,

  535

  There checks his speed; but pauses less to breathe

  The breezy freshness of the deep beneath,

  Than there his wonted statelier step renew;

  Nor rush, disturb’d by haste, to vulgar view:

  For well had Conrad learn’d to curb the crowd,

  540

  By arts that veil, and oft preserve the proud;

  His was the lofty port, the distant mien,

  That seems to shun the sight – and awes if seen:

  The solemn aspect, and the highborn eye,

  That checks low mirth, but lacks not courtesy;

  545

  All these he wielded to command assent:

  But where he wished to win, so well unbent,

  That kindness cancell’d fear in those who heard,

  And others’ gifts show’d mean beside his word,

  When echo’d to the heart as from his own

  550

  His deep yet tender melody of tone:

  But such was foreign to his wonted mood,

  He cared not what he soften’d, but subdued;

  The evil passions of his youth had made

  Him value less who loved – than what obey’d.

  XVII

  555

  Around him mustering ranged his ready guard.

  Before him Juan stands – ‘Are all prepared?’

  ‘They are – nay more – embark’d: the latest boat

  Waits but my chief—’

  ‘My sword, and my capote.’

  Soon firmly girded on, and lightly slung,

  560

  His belt and cloak were o’er his shoulders flung:

  ‘Call Pedro here!’ He comes – and Conrad bends,

  With all the courtesy he deign’d his friends;

  ‘Receive these tablets, and peruse with care,

  Words of high trust and truth are graven there;

  565

  Double the guard, and when Anselmo’s bark

  Arrives, let him alike these orders mark:

  In three days (serve the breeze) the sun shall shine

  On our return – till then all peace be thine!’

  This said, his brother Pirate’s hand he wrung,

  570

  Then to his boat with haughty gesture sprung.

  Flash’d the dipt oars, and sparkling with the stroke,

  Around the waves’ phosphoric1 brightness broke;

  They gain the vessel – on the deck he stands, –

  Shrieks the shrill whistle – ply the busy hands –

  575

  He marks how well the ship her helm obeys,

  How gallant all her crew – and deigns to praise.

  His eyes of pride to young Gonsalvo turn –

  Why doth he start, and inly seem to mourn?

  Alas! those eyes beheld his rocky tower,

  580

  And live a moment o’er the parting hour;

  She – his Medora – did she mark the prow?

  Ah! never loved he half so much as now!

  But much must yet be done ere dawn of day –

  Again he mans himself and turns away;

  585

  Down to the cabin with Gonsalvo bends,

  And there unfolds his plan – his means – and ends;

  Before them burns the lamp, and spreads the chart,

  And all that speaks and aids the naval art;

  They to the midnight watch protract debate;

  590

  To anxious eyes what hour is ever late?

  Meantime, the steady breeze serenely blew,

  And fast and falcon-like the vessel flew;

  Pass’d the high headlands of each clustering isle

  To gain their port – long – long ere morning smile:

  595

  And soon the night-glass through the narrow bay

  Discovers where the Pacha’s galleys lay.

  Count they each sail – and mark how there supine

  The lights in vain o’er heedless Moslem shine.

  Secure, unnoted, Conrad’s prow pass’d by,

  600

  And anchor’d where his ambush meant to lie;

  Screen’d from espial by the jutting cape,

  That rears on high its rude fantastic shape.

  Then rose his band to duty – not from sleep –

  Equipp’d for deeds alike on land or deep;

  605

  While lean’d their leader o’er the fretting flood,

  And calmly talk’d – and yet he talk’d of blood!

  Canto the Second

  ‘Conosceste i dubiosi desiri?’

  DANTE.

  I

  In Coron’s bay floats many a galley light,

  Through Coron’s lattices the lamps are bright,

  For Seyd, the Pacha, makes a feast to-night:

  A feast for promised triumph yet to come,

  5

  When he shall drag the fetter’d Rovers home;

  This hath he sworn by Alla and his sword,

  And faithful to his firman and his word,

  His summon’d prows collect along the coast,

  And great the gathering crews, and loud the boast;

  10

  Already shared the captives and the prize,

  Though far the distant foe they thus despise;

  ’Tis but to sail – no doubt to-morrow’s Sun

  Will see the Pirates bound – their haven won!

  Meantime the watch may slumber, if they will,

  15

  Nor only wake to war, but dreaming kill.

  Though all, who can, disperse on shore and seek

  To flesh their glowing valour on the Greek;

  How well such deed becomes the turban’d brave –

  To bare the sabre’s edge before a slave!

  20

  Infest his dwelling – but forbear to slay,

  Their arms are strong, yet merciful to-day,

  And do not deign to smite because they may!

  Unless some gay caprice suggests the blow,

  To keep in practice for the coming foe.

  25

  Revel and rout the ev
ening hours beguile,

  And they who wish to wear a head must smile;

  For Moslem mouths produce their choicest cheer,

  And hoard their curses, till the coast is clear.

  II

  High in his hall reclines the turban’d Seyd;

  30

  Around – the bearded chiefs he came to lead.

  Removed the banquet, and the last pilaff -

  Forbidden draughts, ’tis said, he dared to quaff,

  Though to the rest the sober berry’s juice1

  The slaves bear round for rigid Moslems’ use;

  35

  The long chibouque’s2 dissolving cloud supply,

  While dance the Almas3 to wild minstrelsy.

  The rising morn will view the chiefs embark;

  But waves are somewhat treacherous in the dark:

  And revellers may more securely sleep

  40

  On silken couch than o’er the rugged deep;

  Feast there who can – nor combat till they must,

  And less to conquest than to Korans trust;

  And yet the numbers crowded in his host

  Might warrant more than even the Pacha’s boast.

  III

  45

  With cautious reverence from the outer gate

  Slow stalks the slave, whose office there to wait,

  Bows his bent head – his hand salutes the floor,

  Ere yet his tongue the trusted tidings bore:

  ‘A captive Dervise from the pirate’s nest

  50

  Escaped, is here – himself would tell the rest.’1

  He took the sign from Seyd’s assenting eye,

  And led the holy man in silence nigh.

  His arms were folded on his dark-green vest,

  His step was feeble, and his look deprest;

  55

  Yet worn he seem’d of hardship more than years,

  And pale his cheek with penance, not from fears.

  Vow’d to his God – his sable locks he wore,

  And these his lofty cap rose proudly o’er:

  Around his form his loose long robe was thrown,

  60

  And wrapt a breast bestow’d on heaven alone;

  Submissive, yet with self-possession mann’d,

  He calmly met the curious eyes that scann’d;

  And question of his coming fain would seek,

  Before the Pacha’s will allow’d to speak.

  IV

  65

  ‘Whence com’st thou, Dervise?’

  ‘From the outlaw’s den,

  A fugitive –’

  ‘Thy capture where and when?’

  ‘From Scalanovo’s port to Scio’s isle,

  The Saick was bound; but Alla did not smile

  Upon our course – the Moslem merchant’s gains

  70

  The Rovers won: our limbs have worn their chains.

  I had no death to fear, nor wealth to boast,

  Beyond the wandering freedom which I lost;

  At length a fisher’s humble boat by night