SUPERSTITION.

The bird that tears that prostrate form,
Hath only robb'd the meaner worm."

193

This highly wrought dramatic romance, which in many respects will remind the reader of the Northern Minstrel, concludes with such a traditional article of belief as might naturally be expected to prevail in a land of superstition.

"There late was laid a marble stone;
Eve saw it placed-the morrow gone!
It was no mortal arm that bore

That deep-fix'd pillar to the shore ;
For there, as Helle's legends tell,

Next morn 'twas found where Selim fell-
Lash'd by the tumbling tide, whose wave
Denied his bones a holier grave ;-

And there, by night, reclined, 'tis said,
Is seen a ghastly turban'd head ;—
And hence extended by the billow,
"Tis named "the Pirate-phantom's pillow!"
Where first it lay-that morning flower

Hath flourish'd—flourisheth this hour—
Alone-and dewy-coldly pure and pale-
As weeping beauty's cheek at sorrow's tale."

CHAPTER IX.

Publication of "The Corsair."—Beauties and defects of that Poem.-Supposed origin of the

Piece. Dedication to Thomas Moore.-Libe

rality of Lord Byron.-The Story of Conrad resumed in "Lara."-Character of that Poem.Ode to Napoleon Buonaparte.

SO rapid and prolific was the genius of Lord Byron, on his return from the Levant, that scarcely had public curiosity been awakened and delighted by one poem, before another made its appearance, and commanded fresh applause. If" Childe Harold" exhibited originality of thought, eccentricity of character, and richness of description, the "Giaour" excited a stronger interest by its circumstances; while the " Bride of Abydos" had the higher poetic merit of unity of design, vigour of expression, and tenderness of sentiment.

Rising, as it were in the scale of emulation, the noble author now put forth his strength in a new effort; and while the world was as yet divided in opinion to which of his pieces the palm of preeminence should be ascribed, he produced a poem surpassing his former productions in strength of composition, perspicuity of narrative, and numerical harmony. Still attached to the romantic scenes among which he had so long wandered, and fond of pourtraying man as, perhaps, he had too often seen him in those regions, the poet took for the hero of his piece a piratical chief, who, at the head of a desperate band, had fixed his seat in one of those small islands which spot the bosom of the Ægean sea. Of Conrad the " Corsair," whose name on every shore was famed and feared, it is said that he was

a man of loneliness and mystery,

Scarce seen to smile and seldom heard to sigh-
Robust, but not Herculean-to the sight

No giant frame sets forth his common height;
Yet in the whole, who paused to look again,
Saw more than marks the crowd of vulgar men ;
They gaze and marvel how-and still confess
That thus it is, but why they cannot guess.

Sun-burnt his cheek-his forehead high and pale,-
The sable curls in wild profusion veil;

And oft perforce his rising lip reveals

The haughtier thought it curbs, but scarce conceals.
Though smooth his voice, and calm his general mien,
Still seems there something he would not have seen.
His features' deepening lines and varying hue
At times attracted, yet perplex'd the view;
As if within that murkiness of mind

Work'd feelings fearful, and yet undefined;
Such might it be—that none could truly tell—
Too close inquiry his stern glance could quell.
There breathe but few whose aspect could defy
The full encounter of his searching eye:

He had the skill, when Cunning's gaze would seek
To probe his heart and watch his changing cheek,
At once the observer's purpose to espy,

And on himself roll back his scrutiny;

Lest he to Conrad rather should betray

Some secret thought, than drag that chief's to day.

There was a laughing devil in his sneer,

That raised emotions both of rage and fear;

And where his frown of hatred darkly fell,
Hope withering fled-and mercy sigh'd farewell."

Yet with all these demoniacal qualities,-enough, one would suppose, to drive from him all human kind,

we are told that Conrad felt the passion of love, and, what is more extraordinary, that he was beloved again. For this "man of one virtue and a thousand crimes," the amiable Medora is represented as feeling the most impassioned affection, while Conrad, with all his misanthropy, repaid her love with constancy.

The desire of Medora that Conrad should quit his dangerous vocation, is perfectly natural; nor less so is her intense anxiety for his safety when he is roving in quest of prey: but still there is something out of the usual current of things in the fondness with which this heart of excessive sensibility yearns over a ruffian. In their last meeting, just after the return of the pirates from a cruize, Medora thus relates the fears and hopes that had agitated her mind :

"Oh! many a night, on this lone couch reclined,
My dreaming fear with storms hath wing'd the wind,
And deem'd the breath that faintly fann'd thy sail-
The murmuring prelude of the ruder gale ;
Though soft,-it seem'd the low prophetic dirge,
That mourn'd thee floating on the savage surge:
Still would I rise, to rouse the beacon fire,
Lest spies less true should let the blaze expire;