Selected Poems
Page 30
Afforded hope, and offer’d chance of flight;
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I seized the hour, and find my safety here –
With thee – most mighty Pacha! who can fear?’
‘How speed the outlaws? stand they well prepared,
Their plunder’d wealth, and robber’s rock, to guard?
Dream they of this our preparation, doom’d
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To view with fire their scorpion nest consumed?’
‘Pacha! the fetter’d captive’s mourning eye,
That weeps for flight, but ill can play the spy;
I only heard the reckless waters roar,
Those waves that would not bear me from the shore;
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I only mark’d the glorious sun and sky,
Too bright – too blue – for my captivity;
And felt – that all which Freedom’s bosom cheers,
Must break my chain before it dried my tears.
This may’st thou judge, at least, from my escape,
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They little deem of aught in peril’s shape;
Else vainly had I pray’d or sought the chance
That leads me here – if eyed with vigilance:
The careless guard that did not see me fly,
May watch as idly when thy power is nigh:
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Pacha! – my limbs are faint – and nature craves
Food for my hunger, rest from tossing waves:
Permit my absence – peace be with thee! Peace
With all around! – now grant repose – release.’
‘Stay, Dervise! I have more to question – stay,
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I do command thee – sit – dost hear? – obey!
More I must ask, and food the slaves shall bring;
Thou shalt not pine where all are banqueting:
The supper done – prepare thee to reply,
Clearly and full – I love not mystery.’
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’Twere vain to guess what shook the pious man,
Who look’d not lovingly on that Divan;
Nor show’d high relish for the banquet prest,
And less respect for every fellow guest.
‘Twas but a moment’s peevish hectic past
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Along his cheek, and tranquillised as fast:
He sate him down in silence, and his look
Resumed the calmness which before forsook:
The feast was usher’d in – but sumptuous fare
He shunn’d as if some poison mingled there.
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For one so long condemn’d to toil and fast,
Methinks he strangely spares the rich repast.
‘What ails thee, Dervise? eat – dost thou suppose
This feast a Christian’s? or my friends thy foes?
Why dost thou shun the salt? that sacred pledge,
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Which, once partaken, blunts the sabre’s edge,
Makes even contending tribes in peace unite,
And hated hosts seem brethren to the sight!’
‘Salt seasons dainties – and my food is still
The humblest root, my drink the simplest rill;
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And my stern vow and order’s1 laws oppose
To break or mingle bread with friends or foes;
It may seem strange – if there be aught to dread,
That peril rests upon my single head;
But for thy sway – nay more – thy Sultan’s throne,
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I taste nor bread nor banquet – save alone;
Infringed our order’s rule, the Prophet’s rage
To Mecca’s dome might bar my pilgrimage.’
‘Well – as thou wilt – ascetic as thou art –
One question answer; then in peace depart.
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How many? – Ha! it cannot sure be day?
What star – what sun is bursting on the bay?
It shines a lake of fire! – away – away!
Ho! treachery! my guards! my scimitar!
The galleys feed the flames – and I afar!
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Accursed Dervise! – these thy tidings – thou
Some villain spy – seize – cleave him – slay him now!’
Up rose the Dervise with that burst of light,
Nor less his change of form appall’d the sight:
Up rose that Dervise – not in saintly garb,
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But like a warrior bounding on his barb,
Dash’d his high cap, and tore his robe away –
Shone his mail’d breast, and flash’d his sabre’s ray!
His close but glittering casque, and sable plume,
More glittering eye, and black brow’s sabler gloom,
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Glared on the Moslems’ eyes some Afrit sprite,
Whose demon death-blow left no hope for fight.
The wild confusion, and the swarthy glow
Of flames on high, and torches from below;
The shriek of terror, and the mingling yell –
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For swords began to clash, and shouts to swell –
Flung o’er that spot of earth the air of hell!
Distracted, to and fro, the flying slaves
Behold but bloody shore and fiery waves;
Nought heeded they the Pacha’s angry cry,
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They seize that Dervise! – seize on Zatanai!1
He saw their terror – check’d the first despair
That urged him but to stand and perish there,
Since far too early and too well obey’d,
The flame was kindled ere the signal made;
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He saw their terror – from his baldric drew
His bugle – brief the blast – but shrilly blew;
’Tis answer’d – ‘Well ye speed, my gallant crew!
Why did I doubt their quickness of career?
And deem design had left me single here?’
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Sweeps his long arm – that sabre’s whirling sway
Sheds fast atonement for its first delay;
Completes his fury, what their fear begun,
And makes the many basely quail to one.
The cloven turbans o’er the chamber spread,
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And scarce an arm dare rise to guard its head:
Even Seyd, convulsed, o’erwhelm’d, with rage, surprise,
Retreats before him, though he still defies.
No craven he – and yet he dreads the blow,
So much Confusion magnifies his foe!
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His blazing galleys still distract his sight,
He tore his beard, and foaming fled the fight;1
For now the pirates pass’d the Haram gate,
And burst within – and it were death to wait;
Where wild Amazement shrieking – kneeling – throws
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The sword aside – in vain – the blood o’erflows!
The Corsairs pouring, haste to where within,
Invited Conrad’s bugle, and the din
Of groaning victims, and wild cries for life,
Proclaim’d how well he did the work of strife.
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A glutted tiger mangling in his lair!
They shout to find him grim and lonely there,
But short their greeting – shorter his reply –
‘ ’Tis well – but Seyd escapes – and he must die –
Much hath been done – but more remains to do –
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Their galleys blaze – why not their city too?’
V
Quick at the word – they seized him each a torch,
And fire the dome from minaret to porch.
A stern delight was fix’d in Conrad’s eye,
But sudden sunk – for on his ear the cry
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Of
women struck and like a deadly knell
Knock’d at that heart unmoved by battle’s yell.
‘Oh! burst the Haram – wrong not on your lives
One female form – remember – we have wives.
On them such outrage Vengeance will repay;
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Man is our foe, and such ’tis ours to slay:
But still we spared – must spare the weaker prey.
Oh! I forgot – but Heaven will not forgive
If at my word the helpless cease to live:
Follow who will – I go – we yet have time
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Our souls to lighten of at least a crime.’
He climbs the crackling stair – he bursts the door,
Nor feels his feet glow scorching with the floor;
His breath choked gasping with the volumed smoke,
But still from room to room his way he broke.
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They search – they find – they save: with lusty arms
Each bears a prize of unregarded charms;
Calm their loud fears; sustain their sinking frames
With all the care defenceless beauty claims:
So well could Conrad tame their fiercest mood
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And check the very hands with gore imbrued.
But who is she? whom Conrad’s arms convey
From reeking pile and combat’s wreck – away –
Who but the love of him he dooms to bleed?
The Haram queen – but still the slave of Seyd!
VI
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Brief time had Conrad now to greet Gulnare,1
Few words to re-assure the trembling fair;
For in that pause compassion snatch’d from war,
The foe before retiring, fast and far,
With wonder saw their footsteps unpursued,
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First slowlier fled – then rallied – then withstood.
This Seyd perceives, then first perceives how few,
Compared with his, the Corsair’s roving crew,
And blushes o’er his error, as he eyes
The ruin wrought by panic and surprise.
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Alla il Alla! Vengeance swells the cry -
Shame mounts to rage that must atone or die!
And flame for flame and blood for blood must tell,
The tide of triumph ebbs that flow’d too well –
When wrath returns to renovated strife,
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And those who fought for conquest strike for life.
Conrad beheld the danger – he beheld
His followers faint by freshening foes repell’d:
‘One effort – one – to break the circling host!’
They form – unite – charge – waver – all is lost!
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Within a narrower ring compress’d, beset,
Hopeless, not heartless, strive and struggle yet –
Ah! now they fight in firmest file no more,
Hemm’d in – cut off – cleft down – and trampled o’er;
But each strikes singly, silently, and home,
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And sinks outwearied rather than o’ercome,
His last faint quittance rendering with his breath,
Till the blade glimmers in the grasp of death!
VII
But first, ere came the rallying host to blows,
And rank to rank, and hand to hand oppose,
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Gulnare and all her Haram handmaids freed,
Safe in the dome of one who held their creed,
By Conrad’s mandate safely were bestow’d,
And dried those tears for life and fame that flow’d:
And when that dark-eyed lady, young Gulnare,
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Recall’d those thoughts late wandering in despair,
Much did she marvel o’er the courtesy
That smooth’d his accents; soften’d in his eye:
‘Twas strange – that robber thus with gore bedew’d,
Seem’d gentler then than Seyd in fondest mood.
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The Pacha woo’d as if he deem’d the slave
Must seem delighted with the heart he gave;
The Corsair vow’d protection, soothed affright,
As if his homage were a woman’s right.
‘The wish is wrong – nay, worse for female – vain:
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Yet much I long to view that chief again;
If but to thank for, what my fear forgot,
The life – my loving lord remember’d not!’
VIII
And him she saw, where thickest carnage spread,
But gather’d breathing from the happier dead;
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Far from his band, and battling with a host
That deem right dearly won the field he lost,
Fell’d – bleeding – baffled of the death he sought,
And snatch’d to expiate all the ills he wrought;
Preserved to linger and to live in vain,
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While Vengeance ponder’d o’er new plans of pain,
And stanch’d the blood she saves to shed again –
But drop for drop, for Seyd’s unglutted eye
Would doom him ever dying – ne’er to die!
Can this be he? triumphant late she saw,
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When his red hand’s wild gesture waved, a law!
‘Tis he indeed – disarm’d but undeprest,
His sole regret the life he still possest;
His wounds too slight, though taken with that will,
Which would have kiss’d the hand that then could kill.
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Oh were there none, of all the many given,
To send his soul – he scarcely ask’d to heaven?
Must he alone of all retain his breath,
Who more than all had striven and struck for death?
He deeply felt – what mortal hearts must feel,
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When thus reversed on faithless fortune’s wheel,
For crimes committed, and the victor’s threat
Of lingering tortures to repay the debt –
He deeply, darkly felt; but evil pride
That led to perpetrate – now serves to hide.
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Still in his stern and self-collected mien
A conqueror’s more than captive’s air is seen,
Though faint with wasting toil and stiffening wound,
But few that saw – so calmly gazed around:
Though the far shouting of the distant crowd,
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Their tremors o’er, rose insolently loud,
The better warriors who beheld him near,
Insulted not the foe who taught them fear;
And the grim guards that to his durance led,
In silence eyed him with a secret dread.
IX
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The Leech was sent – but not in mercy – there,
To note how much the life yet left could bear;
He found enough to load with heaviest chain,
And promise feeling for the wrench of pain:
Tomorrow – yea – to-morrow’s evening sun
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Will sinking see impalement’s pangs begun,
And rising with the wonted blush of morn
Behold how well or ill those pangs are borne.
Of torments this the longest and the worst,
Which adds all other agony to thirst,
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That day by day death still forbears to slake,
While famish’d vultures flit around the stake.
‘Oh! water – water!’ – smiling Hate denies
The victim’s prayer – for if he drinks – he dies.
This was his doom; – the Leech, the guard, were gone,
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And left proud Conrad fetter’d and alone.
X
‘Twere vain to paint to what his feelings grew –
It even were doubtful if their victim knew.
There is a war a chaos of the mind
When all its elements convulsed – combined –
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Lie dark and jarring with perturbed force,
And gnashing with impenitent Remorse;
That juggling fiend – who never spake before –
But cries ‘I warn’d thee!’ when the deed is o’er.
Vain voice! the spirit burning but unbent,
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May writhe – rebel – the weak alone repent!
Even in that lonely hour when most it feels,
And, to itself, all – all that self reveals,
No single passion, and no ruling thought
That leaves the rest as once unseen, unsought;
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But the wild prospect when the soul reviews –
All rushing through their thousand avenues,
Ambition’s dreams expiring, love’s regret,
Endangered glory, life itself beset;
The joy untasted, the contempt or hate
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’Gainst those who fain would triumph in our fate;
The hopeless past, the hasting future driven
Too quickly on to guess if hell or heaven;
Deeds, thoughts, and words, perhaps remember’d not
So keenly till that hour, but ne’er forgot;
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Things light or lovely in their acted time,
But now to stern reflection each a crime;
The withering sense of evil unreveal’d,
Not cankering less because the more conceal’d –
All, in a word, from which all eyes must start,
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That opening sepulchre – the naked heart
Bares with its buried woes, till Pride awake,
To snatch the mirror from the soul – and break.
Ay – Pride can veil, and Courage brave it all,
All – all – before – beyond – the deadliest fall.
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Each has some fear, and he who least betrays,
The only hypocrite deserving praise:
Not the loud recreant wretch who boasts and flies;
But he who looks on death – and silent dies.
So steel’d by pondering o’er his far career,
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He half-way meets him should he menace near!
XI
In the high chamber of his highest tower
Sate Conrad, fetter’d in the Pacha’s power.
His palace perish’d in the flame – this fort
Contain’d at once his captive and his court.
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Not much could Conrad of his sentence blame,
His foe, if vanquish’d, had but shared the same:–
Alone he sate – in solitude had scann’d
His guilty bosom, but that breast he mann’d:
One thought alone he could not – dared not meet -