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· 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
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?
• 'Twas but an instant past--and here he stood !
Be silent dearest-come-our board is spread;
Nay, dearest, we must part—the hour of stay
By the Pacha Seyd! we must to sea,
Upon our Isle. Fear not, my band are true,
Security will make repose more dear.
Thus wilt thou ever leave me for the main,
If there be life on earth, or hope in heaven,
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
That peal'd the hour of departureFarewell !
The sensations of Conrad, when he
finds himself a captive and incarcerated, To seck the perils of uncertain fate.
are thus depicted by the poet, -
Lie dark and jarring with perturbed force,
And gnashing with impenitent Remorse;
That juggling fiend—who never spake before
Even in that lonely hour when most it feels,
But the wild propect when the soul reviews
Too quickly op to guess if bell or heaven;
Deeds, thoughts, and words, perhaps remem "Lady! I look to none-my lips proclaim
What last proclaimed they--Conrad still the
Well have I earned--nor here alone-the meed
With all that woman feels, but should not tell
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,
Receive this poniard-rise-and follow me.'
Aye-in my chains ! my steps will gently tread,
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?
Or is that instrument more fit for fight!
Misdoubting Corsair! I have gained the guard,
Ripe for revolt, and greedy for reward.
Without some aid how here could I remain ?
If in aught evil, for thy sake the crime:
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,
This fleeting grace was only to prepare
But had he not thus menaced fame and life,
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,
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
Take this poniard,
(She draws a poniard which she had concealed
in her bosom.) Gulnare---Gulnare.--I never felt till now
on---and follow me!--.
The hated Tyrant---Conrad, he must die!
But for his rescue, I had Aed with thec---
Thy life, Gulnare?
Mine too he threatens---but his dotage yet
To wear so long as does its gilding last?...
Enter Gulnare, with a light in her hand, which thee!
How grateful is the heart of e'en a slave...
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
That bitter bondage planted in my heart,
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,
Gulnare !---Gulnare !--I never felt till now,
Hath swept my gallant comrades from the earthom
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!"
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---
I knew not that my nature held a drop
Dark tho' the gloom