Lord Byron - Delphi Poets Series

by Lord Byron

A fugitive — “

  “Thy capture where and when?”

  “From Scalanova’s port to Scio’s isle,

  The Saick was bound; but Allah did not smile

  Upon our course — the Moslem merchant’s gains

  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

  Afforded hope, and offered chance of flight; 680

  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 plundered wealth, and robber’s rock, to guard?

  Dream they of this our preparation, doomed

  To view with fire their scorpion nest consumed?”

  “Pacha! the fettered 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; 690

  I only marked 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 mayst thou judge, at least, from my escape,

  They little deem of aught in Peril’s shape;

  Else vainly had I prayed 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. 700

  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,

  I do command thee — sit — dost hear? — obey!

  More I must ask, and food the slaves shall bring;

  Thou shall not pine where all are banqueting:

  The supper done — prepare thee to reply,

  Clearly and full — I love not mystery.” 710

  ‘Twere vain to guess what shook the pious man,

  Who looked not lovingly on that Divan;

  Nor showed high relish for the banquet prest,

  And less respect for every fellow guest.

  Twas but a moment’s peevish hectic passed

  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 ushered in — but sumptuous fare

  He shunned as if some poison mingled there. 720

  For one so long condemned 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,

  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; 730

  And my stern vow and Order’s 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,

  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. 740

  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!

  Accurséd 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 appalled the sight:

  Up rose that Dervise — not in saintly garb, 750

  But like a warrior bounding on his barb,

  Dashed his high cap, and tore his robe away —

  Shone his mailed breast, and flashed his sabre’s ray!

  His close but glittering casque, and sable plume,

  More glittering eye, and black brow’s sabler gloom,

  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 — 760

  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,

  They seize that Dervise! — seize on Zatanai!

  He saw their terror — checked the first despair

  That urged him but to stand and perish there,

  Since far too early and too well obeyed,

  The flame was kindled ere the signal made; 770

  He saw their terror — from his baldric drew

  His bugle — brief the blast — but shrilly blew;

  ‘Tis answered — “Well ye speed, my gallant crew!

  Why did I doubt their quickness of career?

  And deem design had left me single here?”

  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, 780

  And scarce an arm dare rise to guard its head:

  Even Seyd, convulsed, o’erwhelmed, 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!

  His blazing galleys still distract his sight,

  He tore his beard, and foaming fled the fight;

  For now the pirates passed the Haram gate,

  And burst within — and it were death to wait;

  Where wild Amazement shrieking — kneeling — throws 790

  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,

  Proclaimed how well he did the work of strife.

  They shout to find him grim and lonely there,

  A glutted tiger mangling in his lair!

  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 — 800

  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 fixed in Conrad’s eye,

  But sudden
sunk — for on his ear the cry

  Of women struck, and like a deadly knell

  Knocked 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; 810

  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

  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. 820

  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,

  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! 830

  VI.

  Brief time had Conrad now to greet Gulnare,

  Few words to reassure the trembling Fair;

  For in that pause Compassion snatched from War,

  The foe before retiring, fast and far,

  With wonder saw their footsteps unpursued,

  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. 840

  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 flowed too well —

  When Wrath returns to renovated strife,

  And those who fought for conquest strike for life.

  Conrad beheld the danger — he beheld

  His followers faint by freshening foes repelled:

  “One effort — one — to break the circling host!”

  They form — unite — charge — waver — all is lost! 850

  Within a narrower ring compressed, beset,

  Hopeless, not heartless, strive and struggle yet —

  Ah! now they fight in firmest file no more,

  Hemmed in — cut off — cleft down and trampled o’er;

  But each strikes singly — silently — and home,

  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, 860

  Gulnare and all her Haram handmaids freed,

  Safe in the dome of one who held their creed,

  By Conrad’s mandate safely were bestowed,

  And dried those tears for life and fame that flowed:

  And when that dark-eyed lady, young Gulnare,

  Recalled those thoughts late wandering in despair,

  Much did she marvel o’er the courtesy

  That smoothed his accents, softened in his eye —

  ‘Twas strange — that robber thus with gore bedewed,

  Seemed gentler then than Seyd in fondest mood. 870

  The Pacha wooed as if he deemed the slave

  Must seem delighted with the heart he gave;

  The Corsair vowed protection, soothed affright,

  As if his homage were a Woman’s right.

  “The wish is wrong — nay, worse for female — vain:

  Yet much I long to view that Chief again;

  If but to thank for, what my fear forgot,

  The life — my loving Lord remembered not!”

  VIII.

  And him she saw, where thickest carnage spread,

  But gathered breathing from the happier dead; 880

  Far from his band, and battling with a host

  That deem right dearly won the field he lost,

  Felled — bleeding — baffled of the death he sought,

  And snatched to expiate all the ills he wrought;

  Preserved to linger and to live in vain,

  While Vengeance pondered o’er new plans of pain,

  And stanched the blood she saves to shed again —

  But drop by drop, for Seyd’s unglutted eye

  Would doom him ever dying — ne’er to die!

  Can this be he? triumphant late she saw, 890

  When his red hand’s wild gesture waved, a law!

  ‘Tis he indeed — disarmed but undeprest,

  His sole regret the life he still possest;

  His wounds too slight, though taken with that will,

  Which would have kissed the hand that then could kill.

  Oh were there none, of all the many given,

  To send his soul — he scarcely asked 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, 900

  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.

  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, 910

  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.

  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;

  To-morrow — yea — to-morrow’s evening Sun 920

  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,

  That day by day Death still forbears to slake,

  While famished 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, 930

  And left proud Conrad fettered 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

  Lie dark and jarring with perturbéd force,

  And gnashing with impenite
nt Remorse —

  That juggling fiend, who never spake before,

  But cries “I warned thee!” when the deed is o’er.

  Vain voice! the spirit burning but unbent, 940

  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,

  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 950

  ‘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 remembered not

  So keenly till that hour, but ne’er forgot;

  Things light or lovely in their acted time,

  But now to stern Reflection each a crime;

  The withering sense of Evil unrevealed,

  Not cankering less because the more concealed;

  All, in a word, from which all eyes must start, 960

  That opening sepulchre, the naked heart

  Bares with its buried woes — till Pride awake,

  To snatch the mirror from the soul, and break.

  Aye, Pride can veil, and Courage brave it all —

  All — all — before — beyond — the deadliest fall.

  Each hath 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, steeled by pondering o’er his far career, 970

  He half-way meets Him should He menace near!

  XI.

  In the high chamber of his highest tower

  Sate Conrad, fettered in the Pacha’s power.

  His palace perished in the flame — this fort

  Contained at once his captive and his court.

  Not much could Conrad of his sentence blame,

  His foe, if vanquished, had but shared the same: —

  Alone he sate — in solitude had scanned

  His guilty bosom, but that breast he manned:

  One thought alone he could not — dared not meet — 980

  “Oh, how these tidings will Medora greet?”

  Then — only then — his clanking hands he raised,

  And strained with rage the chain on which he gazed;

  But soon he found, or feigned, or dreamed relief,

  And smiled in self-derision of his grief,

  “And now come Torture when it will, or may —