· Remember me-Oh! pass not thou my grave My love! thou mock’st my weakness; and

Without one thought whose relics there recline: would'st steel The only pang my bosom dare not brave, My breast before the time when it must feel; Must be lo find forgetfulness in thine. But trifle now no more with my distress,

Such mirth hath less of play than bitterness. • My sondest—faintest-latest-accents hear: Be silent, Conrad!- dearest! come and share Grief for the dead not Virtue can reprove;

The least these hands delighted to prepare ; Then give me all I ever asked a tear,

Light toil! to cull and dress thy frugal fare! The first-last-sole reward of so much love."" See, I have plucked the fruit that promised best

And where not sure, perplexed, but pleased, I We will let the poet speak

guessed

At such as seemed the fairest : thrice the hill * He passed the portal-crossed the corridore, My steps have wound to try the coolest rill; And reached the chamber as the strain gave o'er: Yes! thy Sherbet to-night will sweetly flow, My own Medora!--sure thy song is sad' See how it sparkles in its vase of snow!

The grapes' gay juice thy bosom never cheers; ' In Conrad's absence would'st thou have it glad? Thou more than Moslem when the cup appears : Without thine ear to listen to my lay,

Think not I mean to chide-for I rejoice Still must my song my thoughts, my soul betray: What others deem a pennance is thy choice. Still must each accent to my bosom suit, But come, the board is spread; our silver lamp My heart unlushed-although my lips were Is trimmed, and heeds not the Sirocco's damp: inute.

Then shall my handmaids while the time along, Oh! many a night on this lone couch reclined, And join with me the dance, or wake the song ; My dreaming fear with stornis hath winged the Or my guitar, which still thou lov'st to hear, wind,

Sball soothe or lull-or, should it vex thine ear, And deemed the breath that faintly fanned thy We'll turn the tale, by Ariosto told, sail

Or fair Olyinpia loved and left of old. The murmuring prelude of the ruder gale ; Why--thou wert worse than be who broke his vow Though soft, it seemed the low prophetic dirge, To that lost damsel, shouldst thou leave me now; That mourned thee floating on the savage surge: Or even that traitor chief- I've seen thee smile, Still would I rise to rouse the beacon fire, When the clear sky showed Ariadne's Isle, Lest spies less true should let the blaze expire; Which I have poinied from these cliffs the while; And many a restless hour outwatch'd each star, And thus, hali sportive, half in fear, I said, And morning carne--and suill thou wert afar. Lest Time should raise that doubt to more than Oh! how the chill blast on my basom blew,

dread, And day broke dreary on my troubled view, Thus Conrad, too, will

quit me for the main : And still I gazed and gazed-and not a prow And he deceived me-for-he came again!' Was granted to my tears—my truth-my vow. At length-'twas noon-I hailed and blest the " Again-again-and oft again-my love!. mast

If there be life below, and hope above, That met my sight-it near'd-alas! it pas!! He will return-but now, the moments bring Another came- Oh God! 'twas thive at last! The time of parting with redoubled wing: Would that those days were over! wilt thou The why the where what boots it now to tell ne'er,

Since all must end in that wild word-farewell! My Conrad! learn the joys of peace to share ? Yet would I fain-did time allow-discloseSure thou hast more than wealth; and many a Fear not-these are no formidable foes; home

And here shall watch a more than wonted guard, As bright as this invites us not to roam: For sudden siege and long defence prepared : Thou know'st it is not peril that I fear,

Nor be thou lonely-though thy lord's away, I only tremble when thou art not here;

Our matrons and thy handmaids with thee stay; Then not for mine, but that far dearer life, And this thy comfort—that, when next we meet, Which flies from love and languishes for strife, Security shall make repose more sweet: How strange that heart, to me so tender still, List – 'tis the bugle-Juan shrilly blew-Should war with nature and its better will!' One kiss-one more-another-Oh! Adieu • Yea, strange indeed—that hoart hath long been She rose—she sprung-she clung to his embrace, changed;

Till his heart heaved beneath her hidden face. Worm-like 'twas trampled-adder-like avenged, He dared not raise to his that deep blue eye, Without one hope on earth beyond thy love,

That dow'pcast drooped in tearless agony. And scarce a glimpse of mercy from above. Her long fair hair lay floating o'er his arms, Yet the same feeling which thou dost condemn, In all the wildness of dishevelled charms; My very love to thee is hate to them,

Scarce beat that bosom where his image dwelt So closely mingling here, that disentwined, So full-that feeling seem'd almost welt. I cease to love thee when I love mankind : Hark-peals the thunder of the signal-gun! Yet dread not this

the proof of all the past I told 'iwas sikiset-and he cursed that sun. Assures the future that my love will last; Again-agai—that form he madly pressed, But-Oh, Medora! nerve thy gentler heart, Which mutely clasped, imploringly caressed, This hour again—but not for long-we part.' And tottering to the couch his bride he bore,

One moment gazed-as if to gaze no more; 'This bour we part! my heart foreboded this: Feli-that for him earth held but her alone, Thus ever fade iny fairy dreams of bliss. Kissed her cold forehead-turn'dis Conrad "This hour-it cannot be this hour away!

gone Yon bark hath hardly anchored in the bay:

XV. Iler consort still is absent, and her crew And is he gone?'-on sudden solitude Have neod of rest before they toil apew; How oft thai fearful question will intrude?

MEDORA.

CONRAD.

MEDORA.

MEDORA.

• 'Twas but an instant past--and here he stood !
And now'-without the portal's porch she rushed, This hour?-it cannot, must not be--the bark
And then at length her tears in freedom gushed; Hath hardly anchor'd and her weary crew
Big-bright--and fast, unknown to her they fell; Require allotment of suficient time,
But still her lips refused to send – Farewell!' To brace their spirits for a further cruise.
For in that word—that fatal word-howe'er Nay, trifle now no more with my distress;
We promise-hope-believe—there breathes de Thy mirth hath sadness even in its smile.
spair

Be silent dearest-come-our board is spread;
O'er every feature of that still, pale face, 'Tis frugal, but Medora's hands prepar'd it.
Had sorrow fixed what time can ne'er erase : Come!
The tender blue of that large loving eye
Grew frozen with its gaze on vacancy,

Nay, dearest, we must part—the hour of stay
Till-Oh, how far!-it caught a glimpse of him, Hath near expir'd-Gonsalvo brings report
And then it flowed—and phrenzied seemed to Of gathering prows along our coast, arm'd
swim

By the Pacha Seyd! we must to sea,
Through those long, dark, and glistening lashes And meet the tempest, e'er its thunders burst
dewed

Upon our Isle. Fear not, my band are true,
With drops of sadness oft to be renewed. Tried to the dangers of the fiercest fight.
He's gone!'-against her heart that hand is One kiss, and then we part—when next we meel,
driven,

Security will make repose more dear.
Convulsed and quick-then gently raised to hea-

MEDORA,
ven;

Thus wilt thou ever leave me for the main,
She looked and saw the heaving of the main; In helpless, hopeless brokenness of heart.
The wbite sail set-she dared not look again;

CONRAD.
But turned with sickening soul within the gate Again-again-and oft again, my love,
'It is po dream-and I am desolate!'

If there be life on earth, or hope in heaven,
Our author has copied the two last I will return—be this thy comfort then!

Fear not, these are no formidable foesverses of the song. He proceeds

Here, in thine island home, thou wilt be safe. CONRAD.

A more than wonted guard shall watch its peace, - Thy song Medora, breath'd a strain so sad, And hover round its shores. So wild and melancholy soft, it seemd

( The signal gun is fired.) A requiem, such as best might suit

Hark!-'twas the thunder of the signal gun
The tomb of love ill-fated!

That peal'd the hour of departureFarewell !
Thus must it ever breathe, without the joy One moment, Conrad !-sțay!
Thy presence sparkles o'er its lay-it must, ( She faints in the arms of Conrad, who bears her
It will give utt'rance to such thoughts as these. to a couch—he gazes for a moment with strong
Oh! many a night, upon my couch reclin'd, agitution.)
When solitude had set its silent seal

CONRAD.
Upon the world, the slightest breath that moy'd One kiss-one more-oh! adieu ! (Erit.)
The bosom of the deep, seem'd to my fears (Music soft and plaintive-Medora revives and
The prelude of a storm-Oh! I have gaz'd throws a hurried glance around the apartment.)
Upon thy element of war and strife,

MEDORA.
Till every star had sunk within its wave: And is he gone?-'twas but an instant past
And yet thou cam'st not-still upon the main And here he stood-Oh! solitude of heart,
Would that these days of tumuli were at end It is no drcam, and I am desolate!"
Sure thou hast wealth enough-yet strange, that
heart

The sensations of Conrad, when he
So gentle in its loves, still flies from peace,

finds himself a captive and incarcerated, To seck the perils of uncertain fate.

are thus depicted by the poet, -
CONRAD.
Yes--strange indeed-yet nawre made it soft-
Betray'd 100 early and begui!'d too long, ' 'Twere vain to paint to what his feelings grow
The world hath warp'd it to the shape it bears It even were doubtful if their victim knew.
Twas crush'd and trampled like a worm in youth, There is a war, a chaos of the mind,
In manhood, like an adder, 'tis aveng'd. When all its elements convulsed--combined
MEDORA,

Lie dark and jarring with perturbed force,
Conrad -dearest?

And gnashing with impenitent Remorse;
CONRAD.

That juggling fiend—who never spake before
Nay, look not thus tho' every hope of heaven But cries, “I warned thee!' when the deed is o'er,
Were startled from its cherub seat of smiles, Vain voice! the spirit burning but unbent,
I hate mankind too much to feel remorse. May writhe-rebel-the weak alone repent!
My very love to thee, is hate to them-

Even in that lonely hour when most it feels,
I cease to love thee, when I love mankind. And, to itself, all-all that self reveals,
Vet dread not this—the love that hath loved on No single passion, and no ruling thought
Thro' years of tried templation and distress, That leaves the rest as once unseen, unsought;
Must love as truly to the latest throb

But the wild propect when the soul reviews
That wakes existence in the soul—'twill last, All rushing through their thousand avenues.
And rising o'er the wreck of life's decay, Ambition's dreams expiring, love's regrel,
Shine with the lustre of a light in heaven, Endangered glory, life itself beset;
Sull will some momentary cloud of gloom, The joy untasted, the contempt or hate
Its sky of gladness sometimes overcast 'Gainst those who fain would triu:nph in our fale ;
This hour, Medora, once again, we parl The hopeless past, the hasting future driven
This hour, tho' not for long.

Too quickly op to guess if bell or heaven;

same:

Deeds, thoughts, and words, perhaps remem "Lady! I look to none-my lips proclaim
bered not

What last proclaimed they--Conrad still the
So keenly till that hour, but ne'er forgot ;
Things light or lovely in their acted tine, Why should'st thou seek an outlaw's life to spare,
But now to stern reflection each a crime; And change the sentence I deserve to bear?
The withering sense of evil unrevealed,

Well have I earned--nor here alone-the meed
Not cankering less because the more concealed Or Seyd's revenge, by many a lawless deed.'
All, in a word, from which all eyes must start,
That opening sepulchre—the naked heart • Why should I seek? because--Oh! didst thou not
Bares with its buried woes, till Pride awake, Redeem my life from worse than slavery's lot?
To snatch the mirror from the soul_and break. Why should I seek?-bath misery made thee
Ay-Pride can veil, and Courage brave it all,

blind
All-all-before--beyond--the deadliest fall. To the fond workings of a woman's mind!
Pach hath soine fear, and he who least betrays, And must I say? albeit my heart rebel
The only hypocrite deserving praise :

With all that woman feels, but should not tell
Not the loud recreant wreich who boasts and Because--despite thy crimes--that heart is
Aies;

moved: But he who looks on deatlı-and silent dies. It feared thee-thanked theç-pitied-maddenSo steeled by pondering o'er his far career,

ed-loved. He halfway meets him should he menace near!” Reply not, tell not now thy tale again,

Thou lov'st another--and I love in vain; In the play, Conrad is made to utter the Though fond as mine her bosom, form more fair, following soliloquy :

I rush through peril which she would not dare.

li that thy heart to hers were uly dear, CONRAD.

Were I thinc own-thou wert not lonely here: A captive! and in chains ?--but an hour since

An outlaw's spouse and leave her lord to roam: A Chief on land, an Outlaw on the deep,

What hath such gentle dame to do with bome? Free as the breeze that sported on its wave!

But speak not now--c'er thine and o'er my head "T'is well!-my foe it vanquish d, had but shard Hangs the keen sabre by a single thread"; A fate, as dark and terrible as mine!

If thou hast courage still, and would'st be free,
(Hle puses thoughtfully.)

Receive this poniard-rise-and follow me.'
There is a war, a chaos of the mind,
When all its clements convuls'd lie dark

Aye-in my chains ! my steps will gently tread,
And jarring !--impenitent remorse then

With these adornments, o'er each slumbering

head! Rushes thro’ the thousand avenues of thought, Sounding the 'laruin bell, unhcard before

Thou hast forgot—is this a garb for flight?
Vain voice to me!--the weak alone repent!

Or is that instrument more fit for fight!
E'en in this lonely hour, when must I feel,
Feel to my writhing bosom's inmost core,

Misdoubting Corsair! I have gained the guard,
Tho'stern reflection doth unscpulchre

Ripe for revolt, and greedy for reward.
Fach buried crime, and scan with with’ring look A single word of mine removes that chain:
The blood-stain'd record of my life en now, Well, since we met, hath sped my busy time,

Without some aid how here could I remain ?
I hear its voice as one who heard it not!--
One thought alone, a madd’ning innage forms,

If in aught evil, for thy sake the crime:
One image only in the wild prospect

The crime--'tis none to punish those of Seyd. Which my soul reviews, I cannot, dare not

That hated tyrant, Conrad-he must bleed! Meet and gaze upon --Oh!- Medora! how

I see thee shudder-but my soul is changed Will these tidings greet thy widow'd heart ! Wronged-spurned-reviled—and it shall be To-morrow, and thy dream of hope expires !

avenged(Conrad veils his face and appears agituled with Accused of what till now my heart disdained the deepest emotions.)

Too faithful, though to bitter bondage chained. "Fis past!-and now come torture when it will, Yes, smile !—but he had little cause io sneer, I've need of yest to nerve me for the day.

I was not treacherous then--nor thou too dear: (He throuos himself upon a sofa, uppurezily er

But he has said it-and the jealous well, hausted.)”

Those tyrants, teasing, tempting to rebel,

Deserve the fate their fretting lips foretell. The last prison interview between Gul- I never loved—he bought me---somewhat high-nare and Conrad, where she is instigating Since with me came a heart he could not buy, him to redeem them botlı by a single blow, But for his rescue I with thee bad Aed.

I was a slave unmurmuring; he hath said,
is thus rehearsed by Lord Byron : 'Twas false thou know'st---but let such augurs
* The midnight passed--and to the massy door, Their words are omens Insult renders true.
A light step caine--it paused—it moved once Nor was thy respite granted to my prayer;

This fleeting grace was only to prepare
Slow turns the grating bolt and sullen key: New torments for thy life, and my despair.
"Tis as his heart foreboded that fair she! Mine too he threatens; but his dotage sull
Whate'er hel' sins, to bim a guardian saint, Would fain reserve me for his lordly will:
And beateous still as hermit's hope can paint; When wearier of these fleeting charms and me,
Yet changed since last within thai cell she caine, There yawns the sack---and yonder rolls the sea
More pale her cheek, more tremulous her frame. What, am I then a toy for dotard's play,
On him she cast her dark and hurried eye To wear but till the gilding frets away?
Which spoke before her accents--thou must die! I saw thee-loved thee-owe thee all-would
Yes, thou must die--there is but one resource,

save,
The last the worst--if torture were not worse.' If but to show how grateful is a slave.

rue,

more :

GULNARE.

CONRAD.

But had he not thus menaced fame and life,

CONRAD.
(And well he keeps his oaths pronounced in strife) Gulnare !
I still had saved thee-but the Pacha spared.
Now I am all thine own-for all prepared :

Nay, speak not nowThou lov'st me pot-nor know'st-or but the Thou lov’st another, and I love in vain !--worst.

And yet methinks, were I an Outlaw's spouse,
Alas! this love-that hatred are the first The busiest scenes of danger and of death,
Oh! could'st thou prove my truth, thou would'st Should find me still partaker of his fate -
not start,

Corsair, thy doom is fix'd !---time flies apace, Nor fear the fire that lights an eastern heart, Destruction 'round thee close hath wound his 'Tis now the beacon of thy safety-now

toils !---
It points within the port a Mainote prow: If thou hast courage still to hazard life,
But in one chamber, where our path must lead, And set it on the casting of a die,
There sleeps—he must not wake-the oppressor

Take this poniard,
Seyd!

(She draws a poniard which she had concealed

in her bosom.) Gulnare---Gulnare.--I never felt till now

on---and follow me!--.
My abject fortune, withered fame so low:
Seyd is mine enemy: had swept my band Aye---in my chains ?---and these adornments?
From earth with ruthless but with open hand, Thou hast forgot b---is this a garb for fight,
And therefore came I, in my bark of war, Or that a weapon for a warrior's arm?...
To smite the smiter with the scimitar;

GULNARE
Such is my weapon---not the secret knife--- A single word of mine removes those chains.
Who spares a woman's seeks not slumber's life. Think'st thou I stand unaided and alone?
Thine saved I gladly, lady, not for this Ripe for revolt, and greedy for reward,
Let me not deem that mercy shown amiss. The guard are gain'd, and wait the appointed
Now fare thee well---more peace be with thy Well since we met hath sped my busy, time !

breast !
Night wears apace---my last of earthly rest!' If in aught evil, 'twas for thee 1 sinn'd...

The hated Tyrant---Conrad, he must die!
Rest! rest! by sunrise must thy sinews shake, I see thee shudder, but I am resolv'd;
And thy limbs writhe around the ready stake. Wrong'd, spurn’d, revil'd, and not to be aveng'd?
I heard the order---saw.--I will not see.-. 'Tis more than meek-ey'd mercy can endure!...
If thou wilt perish, I will fall with thee. He call'd me treacherous, and curst the hour
My life---my love---my hatred---all below In which you bore me trembling thro' the flames,
Are on this cast---Corsair! 'tis but a blow! He told me, Conrad, what thou know'st is false;
Without it fight were idle---how evade

But for his rescue, I had Aed with thec---
His sure pursuit? my wrongs too unrepaid, Nor was thy respite granted to my pray'r:
My youth disgraced--the long, long wasted years, Twas giv'n, that cruelty might best contrive
One blow shall cancel with our future fears; New torments for thy life and mine ?...
But since the dagger suits thee less than brand,

CONRAD.
I'll try the firmness of a female hand.

Thy life, Gulnare?
The guards are gained---one moment all were
o'er---

Mine too he threatens---but his dotage yet
Corsair! we meet in safety or no more; Would fain preserve me for his tyrant will
If errs my feeble hand, the morning cloud 'Till weary of these fleeting charms---and then,
Will hover o'er thy scaffold, and my shroud."" There yawns the sack, and yonder rolls the

sea!
In the melo-drama we have it thus: What ?---am I then a toy for dotard's play

To wear so long as does its gilding last?...
"(The door of the apartment candiously opens. Corsair, I saw thee---piti'd---maddon d---lov'd

Enter Gulnare, with a light in her hand, which thee!
she places on the table---she casts a hurried look To thee my all of life on earth I owe !
around the apartment, and upon perceiving Con- This should have sav'd thee, if 'ıwere but to show
rad, hastily approaches him.)

How grateful is the heart of e'en a slave...
GULNARE

Had he not menac'd with such kindling oaths, Yes! ---thou must die !--- there is but one re The Pacha had been spar'd--- I was his slave, source!

Had borne unmurmuring the wasting pangs
CONRAD.

That bitter bondage planted in my heart,
Lady--- I look to none, save that, for which And yet he basely trampled it in dust,
A spirit like mine own, imprison'd, sighs: And crush'd its last, its sole remaining hope---
The cold obstruction of the dreamless grave!... Compassion is at end---the thought is paste--
Why should'st thou seek to spare an Outlaw's life, Now I am all thine own, prepar'd for all !...
Or change the sentence of the Seyd's revenge, Oh !---could'st thou see this heart in all its truth,
Earn'd by the blood of many a lawless deed - Thou would'st not start, as if with sudden dread,

Or fear the fire that lightens o'er my brow--Why should I seek !---has misery made thee Here !---take the poniard !---on---and follow me! blind?

And in the chamber where our path must lead,
Hath love no impulse ?---gratitude no claim ? Sleeps the Oppressor---he must not wake!
Thou savid'st my life from worse than slav'ry's

CONRAD.
Jot;

Gulnare !---Gulnare !--I never felt till now,
I knew not, felt not, then, how deep the root My abject fortune and my wither'd fame
From whence compassion for thy fortunes grew--So sunk and blasted !---Seyd is mine enemy,
Despite thy crimes, what first was gratitude, And with a ruthless and avenging hand,
Soon ripen'd into love !-.

Hath swept my gallant comrades from the earthom

GULNARE

GULNARE.

GULNARE

But, 'twas in fair and honourable fight, Lose in that one their all---perchance a mito.-In open combat and in noble daring.-

But who in patience parts with all delight? The secret knise? ---it suits a coward's hand, Full many a stoic eye and aspect stern And slumber pleads for safety, with a voice Mask hearts where grief had little left to learn ; As sacred to this worn and fretted heart, And many a withering thought lies hid, not lost, As did a woman's cry, when flush'd with hope, In smiles that least befit who wear them most. And beating warm in battle and in blood,

XXII. It paused to rescue thee from death! Lady! By those, that deepest feel, is ill exprest Let me not know that mercy shown amiss. The indistinctness of the suffering breast; Murder in sleep?---Temptation in an hour Where thousand thoughts begin to end in one, The most unguarded of my guilty life,

Which seeks from all the refuge found in none; Had Aed a crime like this.--"Tis the curst sin, No words suffice the secret soul to show, That finds forgiveness nor in heaven nor earth. And Truth denies all eloquence to Wo. Now, fare thee well, and gentler thoughts attend On Conrad's stricken soul exhaustion prest, The meditations of thy heart---farewell! And stupor almost lulled it into rest; Night wears apace !---my last of earthly rest !--- So feeble now---his mother's softness crept

To those wild eyes, which like an infant's wept : Rest?---rest?---by sunrise must thy quivering It was the very weakness of his brain, Jimbs

Which thus confessed without relieving pain. Around the stake in torturing anguish writhe--- None saw his trickling tears---perchance, if seed, I heard the order---saw the stake prepared! That useless flood of grief had never been : If thou wilt die, thou shalt not fall alone! Nor long they flowed---he dried them to depart, Corsair, my life---my love---my hate---my all, In helpless---hopeless---brokenness of heart: Are set upon the hazard of this cast!

The sun goes forth---but Conrad's day is dim; 'Tis but a blow !---one throb, and all is still; And the night cometh---ne'er to pass from him. The wrongs and insults of my wasted years

There is no darkness like the cloud of mind, Aveng'd, and thou, oh God! art free again ! On Grief's vain eye---the blindest of the blind! Yet since thou’st grown fastidious in thy crimes, Which may not---dare not see---but turns aside I'll try the firmness of a female hand.

To blackest shade---nor will endure a guide! We meet in safety, or we meet no more!"

XXIII.

His heart was formed for softness---warped to The final, fatal scene of Conrad in the

wrong ; death-chamber of Medora, is pathetically Betrayed too early, and beguiled too long; related in the poem.

Each feeling pure---as falls the dropping dew

Within the grot, like that had hardened too; “He turned not--spoke not--sunk not---fixed his Less clear, perchance, its earthly trials passed, look,

But sunk, and chilled, and petrified at last. And set the anxious frame that lately shook : Yet tempests wear, and lightning cleaves the rock; He gazed—how long we gaze despite of pain,

If such his heart, so shattered it the shock. And know, but dare not own, we gaze in vain! There grew one flower beneath its rugged brow, In life itself she was so still and fair,

Though dark the shade---it sheltered---saved till That death with gentler aspect withered there; And the cold flowers her colder hand contained, The thunder came---that bolt hath blasted both, In that last grasp as tenderly were strained

The Granite's firmness, and the Lily's growth: As if she scarely felt, but feigned a sleep, The gentle plant hath left no leaf to tell And made it alınost mockery yet to weep: Its tale, but shrunk and withered where it fell, The long dark lashes fringed her lids of snow, And of its cold protector, blacken round And veiled---thought shrinks from all that Jurked But shivered fragments on the barren ground!"

below--Oh! o'er the eye death most exerts his might,

The melo-drama concludes with the And hurls the spirit from her throne of light! following monologue : Sinks those blue orbs in that long last eclipse, But spares, as yet, the charm around her lips--

" SCENE 5th. Yet, yet they seem as they forbore to smile, Music soft and plaintive--- magnificent apartment And wished repose---but only for a while ; in the interior of the watch tower---Medora erBut the white shroud, and each extended tregs, tended in death upon a superb sofa--.flowers scatLong---fair---but spread in utter lifelessness, tered around here--lamps burning---handmaiils Which late the sport ofevery summer wind, knecling on each side, weeping---Conrad impaEscaped the baffled wreath that strove to bind; tiently enters, starts wildby, and after an instant's These---and the pale pure cheek became the pause, veils his face and kneels beside Medora--bier--

he rises, gazing distractedly upon her. But she is nothing ---wherefore is be here? XXI.

Yes, thou art nothing !-wherefore am I here?-He asked no question---all were answered now Thro' weal and woe, thou wert th' unerring light By the first glance on that still---marble brow, That shone unwav'ring o'er my path of lite It was enough---she died---what recked it how? Earth held not, such another spark of heav'n!-The love of youth, the hope of better years,

What recks it how that spark were quench'd or The source of softest wishes, tenderest fears,

lost? The only living thing he could not hate,

The love of youth-the hope of better years---
Was reit at once---and he deserved his fate, The soul that spirit'd this mould of clay,
But did not feel it less ;---the good explore, All---all, are reftat once !--- God !---it hath wak'a
For peace, those realms where guili can never A feeling until now unfelt !---a tear?---

I knew not that my nature held a drop
The proud---the wayward---who have fixed below So pure and soft as this !-
Their joy.--and find this earth enough for wo,

Dark tho' the gloom

now.

CONRAD.

soar: