This morning clouds upon me lower'd,
Reproaches on my head were shower'd,
And Giaffir almost call'd me coward!
Now I have motive to be brave;
The son of his neglected slave,
Nay, start not, 'twas the term he gave,
May show, though little apt to vaunt
A heart his words nor deeds can daunt.
His son, indeed! —yet, thanks to thee
Perchance I am, at least shall be ;
But let our plighted secret vow
Be only known to us as now.
I know the wretch who dares demand
From Giaffir thy reluctant hand;
More ill-got wealth, a meaner soul
Holds not a Musselim's (') control:
Was he not bred in Egripo? (2)
A viler race let Israel show!
But let that pass — to none be told
Our oath; the rest shall time unfold.
To me and mine leave Osman Bey;
I've partisans for peril's day :
Think not I am what I appear;
I've arms, and friends, and vengeance near.
Think not thou art what thou appearest!
My Selim, thou art sadly changed:
This morn I saw thee gentlest, dearest;
But now thou 'rt from thyself estranged.
My love thou surely knew'st before,
It ne'er was less, nor can be more.
To see thee, hear thee, near thee stay,
And hate the night I know not why,
Save that we meet not but by day;
With thee to live, with thee to die,
I dare not to my hope deny :
Thy cheek, thine eyes, thy lips to kiss,
Like this and this no more than this:
For, Alla! sure thy lips are flame :
What fever in thy veins is flushing?
(1)" Musselim," a governor, the next in rank after a Pacha; a Waywode is the third; and then come the Agas.
(2) "Egripo"-the Negropont. According to the proverb, the Turks of Egripo, the Jews of Salonica, and the Greeks of Athens, are the worst of their respective
My own have nearly caught the same,
At least I feel my cheek too blushing.
To soothe thy sickness, watch thy health
Partake, but never waste thy wealth,
Or stand with smiles unmurmuring by,
And lighten half thy poverty;
Do all but close thy dying eye,
For that I could not live to try;
To these alone my thoughts aspire :
More can I do? or thou require ?
But, Selim, thou must answer why
We need so much of mystery?
The cause I cannot dream nor tell,
But be it, since thou say'st 't is well;
Yet what thou mean'st by arms' and 'friends,'
Beyond my weaker sense extends.
I meant that Giaffir should have heard
The very vow I plighted thee;
His wrath would not revoke my word:
But surely he would leave me free.
Can this fond wish seem strange in me,
To be what I have ever been?
What other hath Zuleika seen
From simple childhood's earliest hour?
What other can she seek to see
Than thee, companion of her bower,
The partner of her infancy?
These cherish'd thoughts with life begun,
Say, why must I no more avow?
What change is wrought to make me shun
The truth; my pride, and thine till now
To meet the gaze of stranger's eyes
Our law, our creed, our God denies ;
Nor shall one wandering thought of mine
At such, our Prophet's will, repine:
No! happier made by that decree,
He left me all in leaving thee.
Deep were my anguish, thus compell'd
To wed with one I ne'er beheld :
This wherefore should I not reveal!
Why wilt thou urge me to conceal?
I know the Pacha's haughty mood
To thee hath never boded good:
And he so often storms at nought,
Allah! forbid that e'er he ought!
And why, I know not, but within
My heart concealment weighs like sin.
If then such secrecy be crime,
And such it feels while lurking here ;.
Oh, Selim! tell me yet in time,
Nor leave me thus to thoughts of fear.
Ah! yonder see the Tchocadar, (')
My father leaves the mimic war;
I tremble now to meet his eye
Say, Selim, canst thou tell me why?"
"Zuleika! to thy tower's retreat
Betake thee. Giaffir I can greet:
And now with him I fain must prate
Of firmans, impost, levies, state.
There's fearful news from Danube's banks,
Our Vizier nobly thins his ranks,
For which the Giaour may give him thanks:
Our Sultan hath a shorter way
Such costly triumph to repay.
But, mark me, when the twilight drum
Hath warn'd the troops to food and sleep
Unto thy cell will Selim come :
Then softly from the Haram
Where we may wander by the deep :
Our garden-battlements are steep;
Nor these will rash intruder climb
To list our words, or stint our time;
And if he doth, I want not steel
Which some have felt, and more may feel. beautiful
Then shalt thou learn of Selim more
Than thou hast heard or thought before
Trust me, Zuleika - fear not me!
Thou know'st I hold a Haram key."
"Fear thee, my Selim! ne'er till now
Did word like this "9
"Delay not thou;
I keep the key and Haroun's guard
Have some, and hope of more reward.
To-night, Zuleika, thou shalt hear
My tale, my purpose, and my fear;
I am not, love! what I appear."
"Tchocadar —one of the attendants who precedes a man of authority.
THE winds are high on Helle's wave,
As on that night of stormy water
When Love, who sent, forgot to save
The young, the beautiful, the brave,
The lonely hope of Sestos' daughter.
Oh! when alone along the sky
Her turret-torch was blazing high,
Though rising gale, and breaking foam,"
And shrieking sea-birds warn'd him home
And clouds aloft and tides below,
With signs and sounds, forbade to go,
He could not see, he would not hear,
Or sound or sign foreboding fear;
His
eye but saw that light of love,
The only star it hail'd above;
His ear but rang with Hero's song,
"Ye waves, divide not lovers long!"
That tale is old, but love anew
May nerve young hearts to prove as true.
The winds are high, and Helle's tide
Rolls darkly heaving to the main ;
And Night's descending shadows hide
That field with blood bedew'd in vain,
The desert of old Priam's pride ;
The tombs, sole relics of his reign,
save immortal dreams that could beguile The blind old man of Scio's rocky isle !
Oh! yet for there my steps have been ;
These feet have press'd the sacred shore,
These limbs that buoyant wave hath borne
Minstrel! with thee to muse, to mourn,
To trace again those fields of yore,
Believing every hillock green
Contains no fabled hero's ashes,
And that around the undoubted scene
Thine own "broad Hellespont" (') still dashes,
Be long my lot! and cold were he
Who there could gaze denying thee!
The night hath closed on Helle's stream,
Nor yet hath risen on Ida's hill
That moon, which shone on his high theme:
No warrior chides her peaceful beam,
But conscious shepherds bless it still,
Their flocks are grazing on the mound
Of him who felt the Dardan's arrow :
That mighty heap of gather'd ground
Which Ammon's (2) son ran proudly round.
By nations raised, by monarchs crown'd,
Is now a lone and nameless barrow !
Within thy dwelling-place how narrow!
Within- can only strangers breathe
The name of him that was beneath :
Dust long outlasts the storied stone;
But Thou- - thy very dust is gone!
Late, late to-night will Dian cheer
The swain, and chase the boatman's fear;
1) The wrangling about this epithet, "the broad Hellespont" or the "boundless Hellespont," whether it means one or the other, or what it means at all, has been beyond all possibility of detail. I have even heard it disputed on the spot; and not foreseeing a speedy conclusion to the controversy, amused myself with swimming across it in the mean time, and probably may again, before the point is settled. In deed, the question as to the truth of "the tale of Troy divine" still continues, much of it resting upon the talismanic word "axepos:" probably Homer had the same notion of distance that a coquette has of time, and when he talks of boundless, mcans half a mile; as the latter, by a like figure, when she says eternal attachment, simply specifies three weeks.
(2) Before his Persian invasion, and crowned the altar with laurel, &c. He was afterwards imitated by Caracalla in his race. It is believed that the last also poisoned a friend, named Festus, for the sake of new Patroclan games. I have seen the sheep feeding on the tombs of sietes and Antilochus; the first is in the centre of the plain.
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