by Lord Byron
Grief for the dead not Virtue can reprove; 360
Then give me all I ever asked — a tear,
The first — last — sole reward of so much love!”
He passed the portal, crossed the corridor,
And reached the chamber as the strain gave o’er:
“My own Medora! sure thy song is sad — “
“In Conrad’s absence would’st thou have it glad?
Without thine ear to listen to my lay,
Still must my song my thoughts, my soul betray:
Still must each accent to my bosom suit,
My heart unhushed — although my lips were mute! 370
Oh! many a night on this lone couch reclined,
My dreaming fear with storms hath winged the wind,
And deemed the breath that faintly fanned thy sail
The murmuring prelude of the ruder gale;
Though soft — it seemed the low prophetic dirge,
That mourned thee floating on the savage surge:
Still would I rise to rouse the beacon fire,
Lest spies less true should let the blaze expire;
And many a restless hour outwatched each star,
And morning came — and still thou wert afar. 380
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!
At length — ‘twas noon — I hailed and blest the mast
That met my sight — it neared — Alas! it passed!
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?
Sure thou hast more than wealth, and many a home 390
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,
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 —
Without one hope on earth beyond thy love, 400
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,
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.”
“This hour we part! — my heart foreboded this: 410
Thus ever fade my fairy dreams of bliss.
This hour — it cannot be — this hour away!
Yon bark hath hardly anchored in the bay:
Her consort still is absent, and her crew
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.
Be silent, Conrad! — dearest! come and share 420
The feast these hands delighted to prepare;
Light toil! to cull and dress thy frugal fare!
See, I have plucked the fruit that promised best,
And where not sure, perplexed, but pleased, I guessed
At such as seemed 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;
Thou more than Moslem when the cup appears: 430
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 trimmed, and heeds not the Sirocco’s damp:
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,
Of fair Olympia loved and left of old. 440
Why, thou wert worse than he who broke his vow
To that lost damsel, should thou leave me now —
Or even that traitor chief — I’ve seen thee smile,
When the clear sky showed Ariadne’s Isle,
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!”
“Again, again — and oft again — my Love! 450
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?
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:
Nor be thou lonely, though thy Lord’s away, 460
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 —
“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 drooped in tearless agony.
Her long fair hair lay floating o’er his arms, 470
In all the wildness of dishevelled 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!
It told ‘twas sunset, and he cursed that sun.
Again — again — that form he madly pressed,
Which mutely clasped, imploringly caressed!
And tottering to the couch his bride he bore,
One moment gazed — as if to gaze no more;
Felt that for him Earth held but her alone, 480
Kissed her cold forehead — turned — 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!
And now” — without the portal’s porch she rushed,
And then at length her tears in freedom gushed;
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
We promise — hope — believe — there breathes Despair. 490
O’er every feature of that still, pale face,
Had Sorrow fixed what Time c
an ne’er erase:
The tender blue of that large loving eye
Grew frozen with its gaze on vacancy,
Till — Oh, how far! — it caught a glimpse of him,
And then it flowed, and phrensied seemed to swim
Through those long, dark, and glistening lashes dewed
With drops of sadness oft to be renewed.
“He’s gone!” — against her heart that hand is driven,
Convulsed and quick — then gently raised to Heaven: 500
She looked and saw the heaving of the main:
The white sail set — she dared not look again;
But turned with sickening soul within the gate —
“It is no dream — and I am desolate!”
XVI.
From crag to crag descending, swiftly sped
Stern Conrad down, nor once he turned 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,
That hailed him first when homeward from the deep: 510
And she — the dim and melancholy Star,
Whose ray of Beauty reached him from afar,
On her he must not gaze, he must not think —
There he might rest — but on Destruction’s brink:
Yet once almost he stopped — 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,
And sternly gathers all his might of mind: 520
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;
As marks his eye the seaboy on the mast,
The anchors rise, the sails unfurling fast,
The waving kerchiefs of the crowd that urge
That mute Adieu to those who stem the surge;
And more than all, his blood-red flag aloft,
He marvelled how his heart could seem so soft. 530
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,
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, disturbed by haste, to vulgar view:
For well had Conrad learned to curb the crowd,
By arts that veil, and oft preserve the proud; 540
His was the lofty port, the distant mien,
That seems to shun the sight — and awes if seen:
The solemn aspect, and the high-born eye,
That checks low mirth, but lacks not courtesy;
All these he wielded to command assent:
But where he wished to win, so well unbent,
That Kindness cancelled fear in those who heard,
And others’ gifts showed mean beside his word,
When echoed to the heart as from his own
His deep yet tender melody of tone: 550
But such was foreign to his wonted mood,
He cared not what he softened, but subdued;
The evil passions of his youth had made
Him value less who loved — than what obeyed.
XVII.
Around him mustering ranged his ready guard.
Before him Juan stands — “Are all prepared?”
“They are — nay more — embarked: the latest boat
Waits but my chief — — “
“My sword, and my capote.”
Soon firmly girded on, and lightly slung,
His belt and cloak were o’er his shoulders flung: 560
“Call Pedro here!” He comes — and Conrad bends,
With all the courtesy he deigned his friends;
“Receive these tablets, and peruse with care,
Words of high trust and truth are graven there;
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,
Then to his boat with haughty gesture sprung. 570
Flashed the dipt oars, and sparkling with the stroke,
Around the waves’ phosphoric brightness broke;
They gain the vessel — on the deck he stands, —
Shrieks the shrill whistle, ply the busy hands —
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,
And live a moment o’er the parting hour; 580
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;
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;
To anxious eyes what hour is ever late? 590
Meantime, the steady breeze serenely blew,
And fast and falcon-like the vessel flew;
Passed the high headlands of each clustering isle,
To gain their port — long — long ere morning smile:
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 passed by,
And anchored where his ambush meant to lie; 600
Screened from espial by the jutting cape,
That rears on high its rude fantastic shape.
Then rose his band to duty — not from sleep —
Equipped for deeds alike on land or deep;
While leaned their Leader o’er the fretting flood,
And calmly talked — and yet he talked of blood!
CANTO THE SECOND
“Conosceste i dubbiosi desiri?”
Dante, Inferno, v, 120.
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, 610
When he shall drag the fettered Rovers home;
This hath he sworn by Allah and his sword,
And faithful to his firman and his word,
His summoned prows collect along the coast,
And great the gathering crews, and loud the boast;
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, 620
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 suc
h deed becomes the turbaned brave —
To bare the sabre’s edge before a slave!
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. 630
Revel and rout the evening 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 turbaned Seyd;
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 juice
The slaves bear round for rigid Moslems’ use; 640
The long chibouque’s dissolving cloud supply,
While dance the Almas 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
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. 650
III.
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
Escaped, is here — himself would tell the rest.”
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; 660
Yet worn he seemed of hardship more than years,
And pale his cheek with penance, not from fears.
Vowed 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,
And wrapt a breast bestowed on heaven alone;
Submissive, yet with self-possession manned,
He calmly met the curious eyes that scanned;
And question of his coming fain would seek,
Before the Pacha’s will allowed to speak. 670
IV.
“Whence com’st thou, Dervise?”
“From the Outlaw’s den