Selected Poems

by Byron

  So throbb’d each vein – each thought – till then withstood;

  Her own dark soul – these words at once subdued:

  She totters – falls – and senseless had the wave

  Perchance but snatch’d her from another grave;

  115

  But that with hands though rude, yet weeping eyes,

  They yield such aid as Pity’s haste supplies:

  Dash o’er her deathlike cheek the ocean dew,

  Raise – fan – sustain – till life returns anew;

  Awake her handmaids, with the matrons leave

  120

  That fainting form o’er which they gaze and grieve;

  Then seek Anselmo’s cavern, to report

  The tale too tedious – when the triumph short.

  IV

  In that wild council words wax’d warm and strange

  With thoughts of ransom, rescue, and revenge;

  125

  All, save repose or flight: still lingering there

  Breathed Conrad’s spirit, and forbade despair;

  Whate’er his fate – the breasts he form’d and led

  Will save him living, or appease him dead.

  Woe to his foes! there yet survive a few,

  130

  Whose deeds are daring, as their hearts are true.

  V

  Within the Haram’s secret chamber sate

  Stern Seyd, still pondering o’er his Captive’s fate;

  His thoughts on love and hate alternate dwell,

  Now with Gulnare, and now in Conrad’s cell;

  135

  Here at his feet the lovely slave reclined

  Surveys his brow – would soothe his gloom of mind:

  While many an anxious glance her large dark eye

  Sends in its idle search for sympathy,

  His only bends in seeming o’er his beads1

  140

  But inly views his victim as he bleeds.

  ‘Pacha! the day is thine; and on thy crest

  Sits Triumph - Conrad taken - fall’n the rest!

  His doom is fix’d – he dies: and well his fate

  Was earn’d – yet much too worthless for thy hate:

  145

  Methinks, a short release, for ransom told

  With all his treasure, not unwisely sold;

  Report speaks largely of his pirate-hoard –

  Would that of this my Pacha were the lord!

  While baffled, weaken’d by this fatal fray –

  150

  Watch’d – follow’d – he were then an easier prey;

  But once cut off – the remnant of his band

  Embark their wealth, and seek a safer strand.’

  ‘Gulnare! – if for each drop of blood a gem

  Were offer’d rich as Stamboul’s diadem;

  155

  If for each hair of his a massy mine

  Of virgin ore should supplicating shine;

  If all our Arab tales divulge or dream

  Of wealth were here – that gold should not redeem!

  It had not now redeem’d a single hour;

  160

  But that I know him fetter’d, in my power;

  And, thirsting for revenge, I ponder still

  On pangs that longest rack, and latest kill.’

  ‘Nay, Seyd! – I seek not to restrain thy rage,

  Too justly moved for mercy to assuage;

  165

  My thoughts were only to secure for thee

  His riches – thus released, he were not free:

  Disabled, shorn of half his might and band,

  His capture could but wait thy first command.’

  ‘His capture could! – and shall I then resign

  170

  One day to him – the wretch already mine?

  Release my foe! – at whose remonstrance? – thine!

  Fair suitor! – to thy virtuous gratitude,

  That thus repays this Giaour’s relenting mood,

  Which thee and thine alone of all could spare,

  175

  No doubt – regardless if the prize were fair,

  My thanks and praise alike are due – now hear,

  I have a counsel for thy gentler ear:

  I do mistrust thee, woman! and each word

  Of thine stamps truth on all Suspicion heard.

  180

  Borne in his arms through fire from yon Serai –

  Say, wert thou lingering there with him to fly?

  Thou need’st not answer – thy confession speaks,

  Already reddening on thy guilty cheeks;

  Then, lovely dame, bethink thee! and beware:

  185

  ’Tis not his life alone may claim such care!

  Another word and – nay – I need no more.

  Accursed was the moment when he bore

  Thee from the flames, which better far – but – no –

  I then had mourn’d thee with a lover’s woe –

  190

  Now ’tis thy lord that warns – deceitful thing!

  Know’st thou that I can clip thy wanton wing?

  In words alone I am not wont to chafe:

  Look to thyself – nor deem thy falsehood safe!’

  He rose – and slowly, sternly thence withdrew,

  195

  Rage in his eye and threats in his adieu:

  Ah! little reck’d that chief of womanhood –

  Which frowns ne’er quell’d, nor menaces subdued;

  And little deem’d he what thy heart, Gulnare!

  When soft could feel, and when incensed could dare.

  200

  His doubts appear’d to wrong – nor yet she knew

  How deep the root from whence compassion grew –

  She was a slave – from such may captives claim

  A fellow-feeling, differing but in name;

  Still half unconscious – heedless of his wrath,

  205

  Again she ventured on the dangerous path,

  Again his rage repell’d – until arose

  That strife of thought, the source of woman’s woes!

  VI

  Meanwhile – long anxious – weary – still – the same

  Roll’d day and night – his soul could never tame -

  210 This fearful interval of doubt and dread,

  When every hour might doom him worse than dead,

  When every step that echo’d by the gate

  Might entering lead where axe and stake await;

  When every voice that grated on his ear

  215

  Might be the last that he could ever hear;

  Could terror tame – that spirit stern and high

  Had proved unwilling as unfit to die;

  ’Twas worn – perhaps decay’d – yet silent bore

  That conflict, deadlier far than all before:

  220

  The heat of fight, the hurry of the gale,

  Leave scarce one thought inert enough to quail;

  But bound and fix’d in fetter’d solitude,

  To pine, the prey of every changing mood;

  To gaze on thine own heart; and meditate

  225

  Irrevocable faults, and coming fate –

  Too late the last to shun – the first to mend –

  To count the hours that struggle to thine end,

  With not a friend to animate, and tell

  To other ears that death became thee well:

  230

  Around thee foes to forge the ready lie,

  And blot life’s latest scene with calumny;

  Before thee tortures, which the soul can dare,

  Yet doubts how well the shrinking flesh may bear;

  But deeply feels a single cry would shame,

  235

  To valour’s praise thy last and dearest claim;

  The life thou leav’st below, denied above

  By kind monopolists of heavenly love;

  A
nd more than doubtful paradise – thy heaven

  Of earthly hope – thy loved one from thee riven.

  240

  Such were the thoughts that outlaw must sustain,

  And govern pangs surpassing mortal pain:

  And those sustain’d he – boots it well or ill?

  Since not to sink beneath, is something still!

  VII

  The first day pass’d – he saw not her – Gulnare –

  245

  The second – third – and still she came not there;

  But what her words avouch’d, her charms had done,

  Or else he had not seen another sun.

  The fourth day roll’d along, and with the night

  Came storm and darkness in their mingling might:

  250

  Oh! how he listen’d to the rushing deep,

  That ne’er till now so broke upon his sleep:

  And his wild spirit wilder wishes sent,

  Roused by the roar of his own element!

  Oft had he ridden on that winged wave,

  255

  And loved its roughness for the speed it gave;

  And now its dashing echo’d on his ear,

  A long known voice – alas! too vainly near!

  Loud sung the wind above; and, doubly loud,

  Shook o’er his turret cell the thunder-cloud;

  260

  And flash’d the lightning by the latticed bar,

  To him more genial than the midnight star:

  Close to the glimmering grate he dragg’d his chain,

  And hoped that peril might not prove in vain.

  He raised his iron hand to Heaven, and pray’d

  265

  One pitying flash to mar the form it made:

  His steel and impious prayer attract alike –

  The storm roll’d onward, and disdain’d to strike;

  Its peal wax’d fainter – ceased – he felt alone,

  As if some faithless friend had spurn’d his groan!

  VIII

  270

  The midnight pass’d – and to the massy door

  A light step came – it paused – it moved once more;

  Slow turns the grating bolt and sullen key:

  ’Tis as his heart foreboded – that fair she!

  Whate’er her sins, to him a guardian saint,

  275

  And beauteous still as hermit’s hope can paint;

  Yet changed since last within that cell she came,

  More pale her cheek, more tremulous her frame:

  On him she cast her dark and hurried eye,

  Which spoke before her accents – ’Thou must die!

  280

  Yes, thou must die – there is but one resource,

  The last – the worst – if torture were not worse.’

  ‘Lady! I look to none – my lips proclaim

  What last proclaim’d they – Conrad still the same:

  Why should’st thou seek an outlaw’s life to spare,

  285

  And change the sentence I deserve to bear?

  Well have I earn’d – nor here alone – the meed

  Of Seyd’s revenge, by many a lawless deed.’

  ‘Why should I seek? because – Oh! didst thou not

  Redeem my life from worse than slavery’s lot?

  290

  Why should I seek? – hath misery made thee blind

  To the fond workings of a woman’s mind!

  And must I say? albeit my heart rebel

  With all that woman feels, but should not tell –

  Because – despite thy crimes – that heart is moved:

  295

  It fear’d thee – thank’d thee – pitied – madden’d – loved.

  Reply not, tell not now thy tale again,

  Thou lov’st another – and I love in vain;

  Though fond as mine her bosom, form more fair,

  I rush through peril which she would not dare.

  300

  If that thy heart to hers were truly dear,

  Were I thine own – thou wert not lonely here:

  An outlaw’s spouse – and leave her lord to roam!

  What hath such gentle dame to do with home?

  But speak not now – o’er thine and o’er my head

  305

  Hangs the keen sabre by a single thread;

  If thou hast courage still, and wouldst be free,

  Receive this poniard – rise – and follow me!’

  ‘Ay – in my chains! my steps will gently tread,

  With these adornments, o’er each slumbering head!

  310

  Thou hast forgot – is this a garb for flight?

  Or is that instrument more fit for fight?’

  ‘Misdoubting Corsair! I have gain’d the guard,

  Ripe for revolt, and greedy for reward.

  A single word of mine removes that chain:

  315

  Without some aid how here could I remain?

  Well, since we met, hath sped my busy time,

  If in aught evil, for thy sake the crime:

  The crime – ’tis none to punish those of Seyd.

  That hated tyrant Conrad – he must bleed!

  320 I see thee shudder – but my soul is changed -

  Wrong’d, spurn’d, reviled – and it shall be avenged –

  Accused of what till now my heart disdain’d.

  Too faithful, though to bitter bondage chain’d.

  Yes, smile! – but he had little cause to sneer,

  325

  I was not treacherous then – nor thou too dear.

  But he has said it – and the jealous well,

  Those tyrants, teasing, tempting to rebel,

  Deserve the fate their fretting lips foretell.

  I never loved – he bought me – somewhat high –

  330

  Since with me came a heart he could not buy.

  I was a slave unmurmuring: he hath said,

  But for his rescue I with thee had fled.

  ‘Twas false thou know’st – but let such augurs rue,

  Their words are omens Insult renders true.

  335

  Nor was thy respite granted to my prayer;

  This fleeting grace was only to prepare

  New torments for thy life, and my despair.

  Mine too he threatens; but his dotage still

  Would fain reserve me for his lordly will:

  340

  When wearier of these fleeting charms and me,

  There yawns the sack – and yonder rolls the sea!

  What, am I then a toy for dotard’s play,

  To wear but till the gilding frets away?

  I saw thee – loved thee – owe thee all – would save,

  345

  If but to show how grateful is a slave.

  But had he not thus menaced fame and life,

  (And well he keeps his oaths pronounced in strife,)

  I still had saved thee – but the Pacha spared.

  Now I am all thine own – for all prepared:

  350

  Thou lov’st me not – nor know’st – or but the worst.

  Alas! this love – that hatred are the first –

  Oh! couldst thou prove my truth, thou would’st not start,

  Nor fear the fire that lights an Eastern heart;

  ’Tis now the beacon of thy safety – now

  355

  It points within the port a Mainote prow:

  But in one chamber, where our path must lead,

  There sleeps – he must not wake – the oppressor Seyd!’

  ‘Gulnare – Gulnare - I never felt till now

  My abject fortune, wither’d fame so low:

  360

  Seyd is mine enemy: had swept my band

  From earth with ruthless but with open hand,

  And therefore came I, in my bark of war,

  To smite the smiter with the scimitar;

  Su
ch is my weapon – not the secret knife –

  365

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

  Thine saved gladly, Lady, not for this –

  Let me not deem that mercy shown amiss.

  Now fare thee well – more peace be with thy breast!

  Night wears apace – my last of earthly rest!’

  370

  ‘Rest! rest! by sunrise must thy sinews shake,

  And thy limbs writhe around the ready stake.

  I heard the order – saw – will not see –

  If thou wilt perish, I will fall with thee.

  My life – my love – my hatred – all below

  375

  Are on this cast – Corsair! ’tis but a blow!

  Without it flight were idle – how evade

  His sure pursuit? my wrongs too unrepaid,

  My youth disgraced – the long, long wasted years,

  One blow shall cancel with our future fears;

  380

  But since the dagger suits thee less than brand,

  I’ll try the firmness of a female hand.

  The guards are gain’d – one moment all were o’er –

  Corsair! we meet in safety or no more;

  If errs my feeble hand, the morning cloud

  385

  Will hover o’er thy scaffold, and my shroud.’

  IX

  She turn’d, and vanish’d ere he could reply,

  But his glance followed far with eager eye;

  And gathering, as he could, the links that bound

  His form, to curl their length, and curb their sound,

  390

  Since bar and bolt no more his steps preclude,

  He, fast as fetter’d limbs allow, pursued.

  ’Twas dark and winding, and he knew not where

  That passage led; nor lamp nor guard were there:

  He sees a dusky glimmering – shall he seek

  395

  Or shun that ray so indistinct and weak?

  Chance guides his steps – a freshness seems to bear

  Full on his brow, as if from morning air -

  He reach’d an open gallery – on his eye

  Gleam’d the last star of night, the clearing sky:

  400

  Yet scarcely heeded these – another light

  From a lone chamber struck upon his sight.

  Towards it he moved; a scarcely closing door

  Reveal’d the ray within, but nothing more.

  With hasty step a figure outward past,

  405

  Then paused – and turn’d – and paused – ’tis She at last!

  No poniard in that hand – nor sign of ill –

  ‘Thanks to that softening heart – she could not kill!’

  Again he look’d, the wildness of her eye

  Starts from the day abrupt and fearfully.

  410

  She stopp’d – threw back her dark far-floating hair,

  That nearly veil’d her face and bosom fair: