Selected Poems (54 page)

That led to perpetrate – now serves to hide.

300

Still in his stern and self-collected mien

A conqueror’s more than captive’s air is seen,

Though faint with wasting toil and stiffening wound,

But few that saw – so calmly gazed around:

Though the far shouting of the distant crowd,

305

Their tremors o’er, rose insolently loud,

The better warriors who beheld him near,

Insulted not the foe who taught them fear;

And the grim guards that to his durance led,

In silence eyed him with a secret dread.

IX

310

The Leech was sent – but not in mercy – there,

To note how much the life yet left could bear;

He found enough to load with heaviest chain,

And promise feeling for the wrench of pain:

To-morrow – yea – to-morrow’s evening sun

315

Will sinking see impalement’s pangs begun,

And rising with the wonted blush of morn

Behold how well or ill those pangs are borne.

Of torments this the longest and the worst,

Which adds all other agony to thirst,

320

That day by day death still forbears to slake,

While famish’d vultures flit around the stake.

‘Oh! water – water!’ – smiling Hate denies

The victim’s prayer – for if he drinks – he dies.

This was his doom; – the Leech, the guard, were gone,

325

And left proud Conrad fetter’d and alone.

X

‘Twere vain to paint to what his feelings grew –

It even were doubtful if their victim knew.

There is a war a chaos of the mind

When all its elements convulsed – combined –

330

Lie dark and jarring with perturbed force,

And gnashing with impenitent Remorse;

That juggling fiend – who never spake before –

But cries ‘I warn’d thee!’ when the deed is o’er.

Vain voice! the spirit burning but unbent,

335

May writhe – rebel – the weak alone repent!

Even in that lonely hour when most it feels,

And, to itself, all – all that self reveals,

No single passion, and no ruling thought

That leaves the rest as once unseen, unsought;

340

But the wild prospect when the soul reviews –

All rushing through their thousand avenues,

Ambition’s dreams expiring, love’s regret,

Endangered glory, life itself beset;

The joy untasted, the contempt or hate

345

’Gainst those who fain would triumph in our fate;

The hopeless past, the hasting future driven

Too quickly on to guess if hell or heaven;

Deeds, thoughts, and words, perhaps remember’d not

So keenly till that hour, but ne’er forgot;

350

Things light or lovely in their acted time,

But now to stern reflection each a crime;

The withering sense of evil unreveal’d,

Not cankering less because the more conceal’d –

All, in a word, from which all eyes must start,

355

That opening sepulchre – the naked heart

Bares with its buried woes, till Pride awake,

To snatch the mirror from the soul – and break.

Ay – Pride can veil, and Courage brave it all,

All – all – before – beyond – the deadliest fall.

360

Each has some fear, and he who least betrays,

The only hypocrite deserving praise:

Not the loud recreant wretch who boasts and flies;

But he who looks on death – and silent dies.

So steel’d by pondering o’er his far career,

365

He half-way meets him should he menace near!

XI

In the high chamber of his highest tower

Sate Conrad, fetter’d in the Pacha’s power.

His palace perish’d in the flame – this fort

Contain’d at once his captive and his court.

370

Not much could Conrad of his sentence blame,

His foe, if vanquish’d, had but shared the same:–

Alone he sate – in solitude had scann’d

His guilty bosom, but that breast he mann’d:

One thought alone he could not – dared not meet -

375

‘Oh, how these tidings will Medora greet?’

Then – only then – his clanking hands he raised,

And strain’d with rage the chain on which he gazed:

But soon he found – or feign’d – or dream’d relief,

And smiled in self-derision of his grief,

380

‘And now come torture when it will – or may

More need of rest to nerve me for the day!’

This said, with languor to his mat he crept,

And, whatsoe’er his visions, quickly slept.

‘Twas hardly midnight when that fray begun,

385

For Conrad’s plans matured, at once were done:

And Havoc loathes so much the waste of time,

She scarce had left an uncommitted crime.

One hour beheld him since the tide he stemm’d –

Disguised – discover’d – conquering – ta’en - condemn’d –

390

A chief on land – an outlaw on the deep –

Destroying – saving – prison’d – and asleep!

XII

He slept in calmest seeming – for his breath

Was hush’d so deep – Ah! happy if in death!

He slept – Who o’er his placid slumber bends?

395

His foes are gone – and here he hath no friends;

Is it some seraph sent to grant him grace?

No, ’tis an earthly form with heavenly face!

Its white arm raised a lamp – yet gently hid

Lest the ray flash abruptly on the lid

400

Of that closed eye, which opens but to pain,

And once unclosed – but once may close again.

That form, with eye so dark, and cheek so fair,

And auburn waves of gemm’d and braided hair;

With shape of fairy lightness – naked foot,

405

That shines like snow, and falls on earth as mute –

Through guards and dunnest night how came it there?

Ah! rather ask what will not woman dare?

Whom youth and pity lead like thee, Gulnare!

She could not sleep – and while the Pacha’s rest

410

In muttering dreams yet saw his pirate-guest,

She left his side – his signet-ring she bore,

Which oft in sport adorn’d her hand before –

And with it, scarcely question’d, won her way

Through drowsy guards that must that sign obey.

415

Worn out with toil, and tired with changing blows,

Their eyes had envied Conrad his repose;

And chill and nodding at the turret door,

They stretch their listless limbs, and watch no more:

Just raised their heads to hail the signet-ring,

420

Nor ask or what or who the sign may bring.

XIII

She gazed in wonder, ‘Can he calmly sleep,

While other eyes his fall or ravage weep?

And mine in restlessness are wandering here -

What sudden spell hath made this man so dear?

425

True – ’tis to him my life, and more, I owe,

And me and mine he spared from worse than woe:

‘Tis late to think – but soft – his slumber breaks –

How heavily he sighs! – he starts – awakes!’

He raised his head – and dazzled with the light,

430

His eye seem’d dubious if it saw aright:

He moved his hand – the grating of his chain

Too harshly told him that he lived again.

‘What is that form? if not a shape of air,

Methinks, my jailor’s face shows wond’rous fair!’

435

‘Pirate! thou know’st me not – but I am one,

Grateful for deeds thou hast too rarely done;

Look on me – and remember her, thy hand

Snatch’d from the flames, and thy more fearful band.

I come through darkness – and I scarce know why –

440

Yet not to hurt – I would not see thee die.’

‘If so, kind lady! thine the only eye

That would not here in that gay hope delight:

Theirs is the chance – and let them use their right.

But still I thank their courtesy or thine,

445

That would confess me at so fair a shrine!’

Strange though it seem – yet with extremest grief

Is link’d a mirth – it doth not bring relief –

That playfulness of Sorrow ne’er beguiles,

And smiles in bitterness – but still it smiles;

450

And sometimes with the wisest and the best,