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The Works of Lord Byron Volume III Part 33

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Aye! let me like the ocean-Patriarch[173] roam, 870 Or only know on land the Tartar's home![174]

My tent on sh.o.r.e, my galley on the sea, Are more than cities and Serais to me:[175]

Borne by my steed, or wafted by my sail, Across the desert, or before the gale, Bound where thou wilt, my barb! or glide, my prow!

But be the Star that guides the wanderer, Thou!

Thou, my Zuleika, share and bless my bark; The Dove of peace and promise to mine ark![176]

Or, since that hope denied in worlds of strife, 880 Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life!

The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray![177]

Blest--as the Muezzin's strain from Mecca's wall To pilgrims pure and prostrate at his call; Soft--as the melody of youthful days, That steals the trembling tear of speechless praise; Dear--as his native song to Exile's ears,[gr]

Shall sound each tone thy long-loved voice endears.

For thee in those bright isles is built a bower 890 Blooming as Aden[178] in its earliest hour.

A thousand swords, with Selim's heart and hand, Wait--wave--defend--destroy--at thy command![gs]

Girt by my band, Zuleika at my side, The spoil of nations shall bedeck my bride.

The Haram's languid years of listless ease Are well resigned for cares--for joys like these: Not blind to Fate, I see, where'er I rove, Unnumbered perils,--but one only love!

Yet well my toils shall that fond breast repay, 900 Though Fortune frown, or falser friends betray.

How dear the dream in darkest hours of ill, Should all be changed, to find thee faithful still!

Be but thy soul, like Selim's firmly shown; To thee be Selim's tender as thine own; To soothe each sorrow, share in each delight,[gt]

Blend every thought, do all--but disunite!

Once free, 'tis mine our horde again to guide; Friends to each other, foes to aught beside:[179]

Yet there we follow but the bent a.s.signed 910 By fatal Nature to man's warring kind:[gu]

Mark! where his carnage and his conquests cease!

He makes a solitude, and calls it--peace![gv][180]

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[gw]

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 920 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, 930 Which Love to-night hath promised to my sail:[gx]

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!

Aye--let the loud winds whistle o'er the deck,[181]

So that those arms cling closer round my neck: The deepest murmur of this lip shall be,[gy][182]

No sigh for safety, but a prayer for thee!

The war of elements no fears impart 940 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.[gz]

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 950 Returned 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 doomed 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; 960 Time presses--floats my bark--and here We leave behind but hate and fear.

To-morrow Osman with his train Arrives--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, Appalled by truths imparted now, 970 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 hardened into stone; All in the maid that eye could see Was but a younger Niobe.

But ere her lip, or even her eye, Essayed to speak, or look reply, 980 Beneath the garden's wicket porch Far flashed on high a blazing torch!

Another--and another--and another--[183]

"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, s.h.i.+ning steel; 990 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--soon past-- One kiss, Zuleika--'tis my last: But yet my band not far from sh.o.r.e May hear this signal, see the flash; Yet now too few--the attempt were rash: No matter--yet one effort more." 1000 Forth to the cavern mouth he stept; His pistol's echo rang on high, Zuleika started not, nor wept, Despair benumbed 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: 1010 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 them for him?--may I expire If in this strife I seek thy sire!

No--though by him that poison poured; No--though again he call me coward!

But tamely shall I meet their steel?

No--as each crest save _his_ may feel!" 1020

XXIV.

One bound he made, and gained 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-- 1030 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, unharmed by steel, Or scarcely grazed its force to feel,[ha] 1040 Had Selim won, betrayed, 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[hb]

For her his eye but sought in vain?

That pause, that fatal gaze he took, Hath doomed his death, or fixed his chain.

Sad proof, in peril and in pain, How late will Lover's hope remain! 1050 His back was to the das.h.i.+ng spray; Behind, but close, his comrades lay, When, at the instant, hissed 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 aimed to err?

'Tis thine--Abdallah's Murderer!

The father slowly rued thy hate, The son hath found a quicker fate: 1060 Fast from his breast the blood is bubbling, The whiteness of the sea-foam troubling-- If aught his lips essayed to groan, The rus.h.i.+ng 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 s.h.i.+vered brand; 1070 Steps stamped; and dashed into the sand The print of many a struggling hand May there be marked; 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? 1080 Ye! who would o'er his relics weep, Go, seek them where the surges sweep Their burthen round Sigaeum's steep And cast on Lemnos' sh.o.r.e: The sea-birds shriek above the prey, O'er which their hungry beaks delay,[hc]

As shaken on his restless pillow, His head heaves with the heaving billow; That hand, whose motion is not life,[hd]

Yet feebly seems to menace strife, 1090 Flung by the tossing tide on high, Then levelled with the wave--[184]

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

The bird that tears that prostrate form Hath only robbed the meaner worm; The only heart, the only eye Had bled or wept to see him die, Had seen those scattered limbs composed, And mourned above his turban-stone,[185] 1100 That heart hath burst--that eye was closed-- Yea--closed before his own!

XXVII.

By h.e.l.le'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[186] warn his distant ear?

Thy handmaids weeping at the gate, 1110 The Koran-chanters of the Hymn of Fate,[he][187]

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 could'st not save Sufficed to kill; 1120 Burst forth in one wild cry--and all was still.

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The Works of Lord Byron Volume III Part 33 summary

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