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· peace!

Mark! where his carnage and his conquests cease!
He makes a solitude, and calls it
I, like the rest, must use my skill or strength,
But ask no land beyond my sabre's length:
Power sways but by division - her resource
The blest alternative of fraud or force!
Ours be the last; in time deceit may come
When cities cage us in a social home :

There ev'n thy soul might err-how oft the heart
Corruption shakes which peril could not part!
And woman, more than man, when death or woe,
Or even Disgrace, would lay her lover low,
Sunk in the lap of Luxury will shame -
Away suspicion! not Zuleika's name!
But life is hazard at the best; and here
No more remains to win, and much to fear.
Yes, fear! - the doubt, the dread of losing thee,
By Osman's power, and Giaffir's stern decree.
That dread shall vanish with the favouring gale,
Which love to-night hath promised to my sail :
No danger daunts the pair his smile hath blest,
'Their steps still roving, but their hearts at rest.
With thee all toils are sweet, each clime hath charms;
Earth sea alike our world within our arms!

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Ay-let the loud winds whistle o'er the deck,
So that those arms cling closer round my neck:
The deepest murmur of this lip shall be
No sigh for safety, but a prayer for thee!
The war of elements no fears impart

To Love, whose deadliest bane is human Art:
There lie the only rocks our course can check ;
Here moments menace there are years of wreck!
But hence ye thoughts that rise in Horror's shape!
This hour bestows, or ever bars escape.

Few words remain of mine my tale to close;
Of thine but one to waft us from our foes;
Yea-foes-to me will Giaffir's hate decline?
And is not Osman, who would part us, thine?

XXI.

"His head and faith from doubt and death
Return'd in time my guard to save;
Few heard, none told, that o'er the wave
From isle to isle I roved the while :
And since, though parted from my band,
Too seldom now I leave the land,

No deed they 've done, nor deed shall do,
Ere I have heard and doom'd it too:
I form the plan, decree the spoil,
'Tis fit I oftener share the toil.
But now too long I 've held thine ear;
Time presses, floats my bark, and here
We leave behind but hate and fear.
To-morrow Osman with his train

Arrives

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to-night must break thy chain :
And would'st thou save that haughty Bey,
Perchance his life who gave thee thine,
With me this hour away-away!

But yet, though thou art plighted mine,
Would'st thou recall thy willing vow,
Appall'd by truths imparted now,
Here rest I-not to see thee wed:
But be that peril on my head!"

XXII.

Zuleika, mute and motionless,
Stood like that statue of distress,
When, her last hope for ever gone,
The mother harden'd into stone;
All in the maid that eye could see
Was but a younger Niobé.
But ere her lip, or even her eye,
Essay'd to speak, or look reply,
Beneath the garden's wicket porch
Far flash'd on high a blazing torch!
Another and another—and another ·
"Oh! fly - no more

yet now my more than brother! " Far, wide, through every thicket spread, The fearful lights are gleaming red;

Nor these alone

for each right hand

Is ready with a sheathless brand.

They part, pursue, return, and wheel

With searching flambeau, shining steel;
And last of all, his sabre waving,

Stern Giaffir in his fury raving :

And now almost they touch the cave —
Oh! must that grot be Selim's grave?

XXIII.

Dauntless he stood ""Tis come

One kiss, Zuleika - 't is my last :

soon past —

But yet my band not far from shore May hear this signal, see the flash; Yet now too few

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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, 't is 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:
though again he call me coward!
But tamely shall I meet their steel?
No- as each crest save his may feel!"

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XXIV.

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' .ength 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 - 't is but to add to slaughter

His heart's best blood is on the water.

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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?
'T is 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 chok'd 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

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'T is 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 then where the surges sweep
Their burthen 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, (')
That heart hath burst- that eye was closed
Yea-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 (*) 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:

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He was thy hope thy joy — thy love -thine all

(1) A turban is carved in stone above the graves of men only.

(2) The death-song of the Turkish women. The "silent slaves" are the men whose notions of decorum forbid complaint in public.

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