XXIII.

Dauntless he stood-" "Tis come-soon past"One kiss, Zuleika-'tis my last:

"But yet my band not far from shore
"May hear this signal, see the flash;
"Yet now too few-the attempt were rash:
"No matter-yet one effort more."
Forth to the cavern mouth he stept;
His pistol's echo rang on high,
Zuleika started not, nor wept,

Despair benumb'd her breast and eye!—
They hear me not, or if they ply

"Their oars, 'tis but to see me die;

"That sound hath drawn my foes more nigh.

"Then forth my father's scimitar,
"Thou ne'er hast seen less equal war!
"Farewell, Zuleika!-Sweet! retire:
"Yet stay within-here linger safe,
"At thee his rage will only chafe.
"Stir not-lest even to thee perchance
"Some erring blade or ball should glance.
"Fear'st thou for him?-may I expire
"If in this strife I seek thy sire!
"No-though by him that poison pour'd:
"No-though again he call me coward!
"But tamely shall I meet their steel?
"No as each crest save his may feel!"

One bound he made, and gain'd the sand:

Already at his feet hath sunk

The foremost of the prying band,
A gasping head, a quivering trunk:

Another falls-but round him close
A swarming circle of his foes;

From right to left his path he cleft,
And almost met the meeting wave:

His boat appears—not five oars' length—
His comrades strain with desperate strength-
Oh! are they yet in time to save?
His feet the foremost breakers lave;
His band are plunging in the bay,
Their sabres glitter through the spray;
Wet-wild-unwearied to the strand
They struggle-now they touch the land!
They come 'tis but to add to slaughter-
His heart's best blood is on the water.

XXV.

Escaped from shot, unharm'd by steel,
Or scarcely grazed its force to feel,
Had Selim won, betray'd, beset,

To where the strand and billows met:
There as his last step left the land,
And the last death-blow dealt his hand-
Ah! wherefore did he turn to look

For her his eye but sought in vain?

That pause, that fatal gaze he took,

Hath doom'd his death, or fix'd his chain.

Sad proof, in peril and in pain,

How late will Lover's hope remain!
His back was to the dashing spray;
Behind, but close, his comrades lay,
When, at the instant, hiss'd the ball-
"So may the foes of Giaffir fall!"

Whose voice is heard? whose carbine rang?
Whose bullet through the night-air sang,
Too nearly, deadly aim'd to err?
'Tis thine-Abdallah's Murderer!
The father slowly rued thy hate,
The son hath found a quicker fate:
Fast from his breast the blood is bubbling,
The whiteness of the sea-foam troubling-
If aught his lips essay'd to groan,
The rushing billows choked the tone!

XXVI.

Morn slowly rolls the clouds away;
Few trophies of the fight are there:
The shouts that shook the midnight-bay
Are silent; but some signs of fray

That strand of strife may bear,
And fragments of each shiver'd brand;
Steps stamp'd; and dash'd into the sand
The print of many a struggling hand
May there be mark'd; nor far remote
A broken torch, an oarless boat;
And tangled on the weeds that heap
The beach where shelving to the deep
There lies a white capote !

'Tis rent in twain-one dark-red stain
The wave yet ripples o'er in vain :
But where is he who wore ?

Ye! who would o'er his relics weep,
Go, seek them where the surges sweep
Their buthren round Sigæum's steep
And cast on Lemnos' shore:

The sea-birds shriek above the prey,
O'er which their hungry beaks delay,
As shaken on his restless pillow,
His head heaves with the heaving billow;
That hand, whose motion is not life,
Yet feebly seems to menace strife,
Flung by the tossing tide on high,
Then levell'd with the wave-

What recks it, though that corse shall lie
Within a living grave?

The bird that tears that prostrate form

Hath only robb'd the meaner worm;
The only heart, the only eye

Had bled or wept to see him die,

Had seen those scatter'd limbs composed, And mourn'd above his turban-stone, (40) That heart hath burst-that eye was closedYea closed before his own!

XXVII.

By Helle's stream there is a voice of wail!
And woman's eye is wet-man's cheek is pale:
Zuleika! last of Giaffir's race,

Thy destined lord is come too late;
He sees not-ne'er shall see thy face!
Can he not hear

The loud Wul-wulleh (41) warn his distant ear? Thy handmaids weeping at the gate,

The Koran-chanters of the hymn of fate, The silent slaves with folded arms that wait Sighs in the hall, and shrieks upon the gale, Tell him thy tale!

Thou didst not view thy Selim fall!

That fearful moment when he left the cave
Thy heart grew chill:

He was thy hope thy joy-thy love-thine all—
And that last thought on him thou couldst not save
Sufficed to kill;

Burst forth in one wild cry-and all was still.

Peace to thy broken heart, and virgin grave!
Ah! happy! but of life to lose the worst!
That grief-though deep-though fatal_was thy first!
Thrice happy! ne'er to feel nor fear the force
Of absence, shame, pride, hate, revenge, remorse!
And, oh! that pang where more than Madness lies!
The worm that will not sleep-and never dies;
Thought of the gloomy day and ghastly night,
That dreads the darkness, and yet loathes the light,
That winds around, and tears the quivering heart!
Ah! wherefore not consume it and depart!
Woe to thee, rash and unrelenting chief!

Vainly thou heap'st the dust upon thy head,
Vainly the sackcloth o'er thy limbs dost spread:
By that same hand Abdallah-Selim bled.
Now let it tear thy beard in idle grief:

Thy pride of heart, thy bride for Osman's bed,
She, whom thy sultan had but seen to wed,

Thy Daughter's dead!

Hope of thine age, thy twilight's lonely beam,
The Star hath set that shone on Helle's stream.

What quench'd its ray?—the blood that thou hast shed!
Hark! to the hurried question of Despair:

"Where is my child ?" an Echo answers "Where?" (42)