Loud sung the wind above; and, doubly loud,
Shook o'er his turret cell the thunder-cloud;[232]
And flashed the lightning by the latticed bar,
To him more genial than the Midnight Star:
Close to the glimmering grate he dragged his chain, 1430
And hoped _that_ peril might not prove in vain.
Shook o'er his turret cell the thunder-cloud;[232]
And flashed the lightning by the latticed bar,
To him more genial than the Midnight Star:
Close to the glimmering grate he dragged his chain, 1430
And hoped _that_ peril might not prove in vain.
Byron
"
He rose--and slowly, sternly thence withdrew,
Rage in his eye, and threats in his adieu:
Ah! little recked that Chief of womanhood--
Which frowns ne'er quelled, nor menaces subdued;
And little deemed he what thy heart, Gulnare!
When soft could feel--and when incensed could dare!
His doubts appeared to wrong--nor yet she knew
How deep the root from whence Compassion grew--
She was a slave--from such may captives claim 1370
A fellow-feeling, differing but in name;
Still half unconscious--heedless of his wrath,
Again she ventured on the dangerous path,
Again his rage repelled--until arose
That strife of thought, the source of Woman's woes!
VI.
Meanwhile--long--anxious--weary--still the same
Rolled day and night: his soul could Terror tame--
This fearful interval of doubt and dread,
When every hour might doom him worse than dead;[ia]
When every step that echoed by the gate, 1380
Might entering lead where axe and stake await;
When every voice that grated on his ear
Might be the last that he could ever hear;
Could Terror tame--that Spirit stern and high
Had proved unwilling as unfit to die;
'Twas worn--perhaps decayed--yet silent bore
That conflict, deadlier far than all before:
The heat of fight, the hurry of the gale,
Leave scarce one thought inert enough to quail:
But bound and fixed in fettered solitude, 1390
To pine, the prey of every changing mood;
To gaze on thine own heart--and meditate
Irrevocable faults, and coming fate--
Too late the last to shun--the first to mend--
To count the hours that struggle to thine end,
With not a friend to animate and tell
To other ears that Death became thee well;
Around thee foes to forge the ready lie,
And blot Life's latest scene with calumny;
Before thee tortures, which the Soul can dare, 1400
Yet doubts how well the shrinking flesh may bear;
But deeply feels a single cry would shame,
To Valour's praise thy last and dearest claim;
The life thou leav'st below, denied above
By kind monopolists of heavenly love;
And more than doubtful Paradise--thy Heaven
Of earthly hope--thy loved one from thee riven.
Such were the thoughts that outlaw must sustain,
And govern pangs surpassing mortal pain:
And those sustained he--boots it well or ill? 1410
Since not to sink beneath, is something still!
VII.
The first day passed--he saw not her--Gulnare--
The second, third--and still she came not there;
But what her words avouched, her charms had done,
Or else he had not seen another Sun.
The fourth day rolled along, and with the night
Came storm and darkness in their mingling might.
Oh! how he listened to the rushing deep,
That ne'er till now so broke upon his sleep;
And his wild Spirit wilder wishes sent, 1420
Roused by the roar of his own element!
Oft had he ridden on that winged wave,
And loved its roughness for the speed it gave;
And now its dashing echoed on his ear,
A long known voice--alas! too vainly near!
Loud sung the wind above; and, doubly loud,
Shook o'er his turret cell the thunder-cloud;[232]
And flashed the lightning by the latticed bar,
To him more genial than the Midnight Star:
Close to the glimmering grate he dragged his chain, 1430
And hoped _that_ peril might not prove in vain.
He rais'd his iron hand to Heaven, and prayed
One pitying flash to mar the form it made:
His steel and impious prayer attract alike--
The storm rolled onward, and disdained to strike;
Its peal waxed fainter--ceased--he felt alone,
As if some faithless friend had spurned his groan!
VIII.
The midnight passed, and to the massy door
A light step came--it paused--it moved once more;
Slow turns the grating bolt and sullen key: 1440
'Tis as his heart foreboded--that fair She!
Whate'er her sins, to him a Guardian Saint,
And beauteous still as hermit's hope can paint;
Yet changed since last within that cell she came,
More pale her cheek, more tremulous her frame:
On him she cast her dark and hurried eye,
Which spoke before her accents--"Thou must die!
Yes, thou must die--there is but one resource,
The last--the worst--if torture were not worse. "
"Lady! I look to none; my lips proclaim 1450
What last proclaimed they--Conrad still the same:
Why should'st thou seek an outlaw's life to spare,
And change the sentence I deserve to bear?
Well have I earned--nor here alone--the meed
Of Seyd's revenge, by many a lawless deed. "
"Why should I seek? because--Oh! did'st thou not
Redeem my life from worse than Slavery's lot?
Why should I seek? --hath Misery made thee blind
To the fond workings of a woman's mind?
And must I say? --albeit my heart rebel 1460
With all that Woman feels, but should not tell--
Because--despite thy crimes--that heart is moved:
It feared thee--thanked thee--pitied--maddened--loved.
He rose--and slowly, sternly thence withdrew,
Rage in his eye, and threats in his adieu:
Ah! little recked that Chief of womanhood--
Which frowns ne'er quelled, nor menaces subdued;
And little deemed he what thy heart, Gulnare!
When soft could feel--and when incensed could dare!
His doubts appeared to wrong--nor yet she knew
How deep the root from whence Compassion grew--
She was a slave--from such may captives claim 1370
A fellow-feeling, differing but in name;
Still half unconscious--heedless of his wrath,
Again she ventured on the dangerous path,
Again his rage repelled--until arose
That strife of thought, the source of Woman's woes!
VI.
Meanwhile--long--anxious--weary--still the same
Rolled day and night: his soul could Terror tame--
This fearful interval of doubt and dread,
When every hour might doom him worse than dead;[ia]
When every step that echoed by the gate, 1380
Might entering lead where axe and stake await;
When every voice that grated on his ear
Might be the last that he could ever hear;
Could Terror tame--that Spirit stern and high
Had proved unwilling as unfit to die;
'Twas worn--perhaps decayed--yet silent bore
That conflict, deadlier far than all before:
The heat of fight, the hurry of the gale,
Leave scarce one thought inert enough to quail:
But bound and fixed in fettered solitude, 1390
To pine, the prey of every changing mood;
To gaze on thine own heart--and meditate
Irrevocable faults, and coming fate--
Too late the last to shun--the first to mend--
To count the hours that struggle to thine end,
With not a friend to animate and tell
To other ears that Death became thee well;
Around thee foes to forge the ready lie,
And blot Life's latest scene with calumny;
Before thee tortures, which the Soul can dare, 1400
Yet doubts how well the shrinking flesh may bear;
But deeply feels a single cry would shame,
To Valour's praise thy last and dearest claim;
The life thou leav'st below, denied above
By kind monopolists of heavenly love;
And more than doubtful Paradise--thy Heaven
Of earthly hope--thy loved one from thee riven.
Such were the thoughts that outlaw must sustain,
And govern pangs surpassing mortal pain:
And those sustained he--boots it well or ill? 1410
Since not to sink beneath, is something still!
VII.
The first day passed--he saw not her--Gulnare--
The second, third--and still she came not there;
But what her words avouched, her charms had done,
Or else he had not seen another Sun.
The fourth day rolled along, and with the night
Came storm and darkness in their mingling might.
Oh! how he listened to the rushing deep,
That ne'er till now so broke upon his sleep;
And his wild Spirit wilder wishes sent, 1420
Roused by the roar of his own element!
Oft had he ridden on that winged wave,
And loved its roughness for the speed it gave;
And now its dashing echoed on his ear,
A long known voice--alas! too vainly near!
Loud sung the wind above; and, doubly loud,
Shook o'er his turret cell the thunder-cloud;[232]
And flashed the lightning by the latticed bar,
To him more genial than the Midnight Star:
Close to the glimmering grate he dragged his chain, 1430
And hoped _that_ peril might not prove in vain.
He rais'd his iron hand to Heaven, and prayed
One pitying flash to mar the form it made:
His steel and impious prayer attract alike--
The storm rolled onward, and disdained to strike;
Its peal waxed fainter--ceased--he felt alone,
As if some faithless friend had spurned his groan!
VIII.
The midnight passed, and to the massy door
A light step came--it paused--it moved once more;
Slow turns the grating bolt and sullen key: 1440
'Tis as his heart foreboded--that fair She!
Whate'er her sins, to him a Guardian Saint,
And beauteous still as hermit's hope can paint;
Yet changed since last within that cell she came,
More pale her cheek, more tremulous her frame:
On him she cast her dark and hurried eye,
Which spoke before her accents--"Thou must die!
Yes, thou must die--there is but one resource,
The last--the worst--if torture were not worse. "
"Lady! I look to none; my lips proclaim 1450
What last proclaimed they--Conrad still the same:
Why should'st thou seek an outlaw's life to spare,
And change the sentence I deserve to bear?
Well have I earned--nor here alone--the meed
Of Seyd's revenge, by many a lawless deed. "
"Why should I seek? because--Oh! did'st thou not
Redeem my life from worse than Slavery's lot?
Why should I seek? --hath Misery made thee blind
To the fond workings of a woman's mind?
And must I say? --albeit my heart rebel 1460
With all that Woman feels, but should not tell--
Because--despite thy crimes--that heart is moved:
It feared thee--thanked thee--pitied--maddened--loved.
