"
Then--only then--his clanking hands he raised,
And strained with rage the chain on which he gazed;
But soon he found, or feigned, or dreamed relief,
And smiled in self-derision of his grief,
"And now come Torture when it will, or may--
More need of rest to nerve me for the day!
Then--only then--his clanking hands he raised,
And strained with rage the chain on which he gazed;
But soon he found, or feigned, or dreamed relief,
And smiled in self-derision of his grief,
"And now come Torture when it will, or may--
More need of rest to nerve me for the day!
Byron
"--smiling Hate denies
The victim's prayer, for if he drinks he dies.
This was his doom;--the Leech, the guard, were gone, 930
And left proud Conrad fettered 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,[220]
When all its elements convulsed, combined
Lie dark and jarring with perturbed force,
And gnashing with impenitent Remorse--
That juggling fiend, who never spake before,
But cries "I warned thee! " when the deed is o'er.
Vain voice! the spirit burning but unbent, 940
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,
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 950
'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 remembered not
So keenly till that hour, but ne'er forgot;
Things light or lovely in their acted time,
But now to stern Reflection each a crime;
The withering sense of Evil unrevealed,
Not cankering less because the more concealed;
All, in a word, from which all eyes must start, 960
That opening sepulchre, the naked heart[221]
Bares with its buried woes--till Pride awake,
To snatch the mirror from the soul, and break.
Aye, Pride can veil, and Courage brave it all--
All--all--before--beyond--the deadliest fall.
Each hath 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, steeled by pondering o'er his far career, 970
He half-way meets Him should He menace near!
XI.
In the high chamber of his highest tower
Sate Conrad, fettered in the Pacha's power.
His palace perished in the flame--this fort
Contained at once his captive and his court.
Not much could Conrad of his sentence blame,
His foe, if vanquished, had but shared the same:--
Alone he sate--in solitude had scanned
His guilty bosom, but that breast he manned:
One thought alone he could not--dared not meet-- 980
"Oh, how these tidings will Medora greet?
"
Then--only then--his clanking hands he raised,
And strained with rage the chain on which he gazed;
But soon he found, or feigned, or dreamed relief,
And smiled in self-derision of his grief,
"And now come Torture when it will, or may--
More need of rest to nerve me for the day! "
This said, with langour to his mat he crept,
And, whatso'er his visions, quickly slept.
'Twas hardly midnight when that fray begun, 990
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 stemmed--
Disguised--discovered--conquering--ta'en--condemned--
A Chief on land--an outlaw on the deep--
Destroying--saving--prisoned--and asleep!
XII.
He slept in calmest seeming, for his breath[222]
Was hushed so deep--Ah! happy if in death!
He slept--Who o'er his placid slumber bends? 1000
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
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 gemmed and braided hair;
With shape of fairy lightness--naked foot, 1010
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
In muttering dreams yet saw his pirate-guest,
She left his side--his signet-ring she bore,
Which oft in sport adorned her hand before--
And with it, scarcely questioned, won her way
Through drowsy guards that must that sign obey.
The victim's prayer, for if he drinks he dies.
This was his doom;--the Leech, the guard, were gone, 930
And left proud Conrad fettered 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,[220]
When all its elements convulsed, combined
Lie dark and jarring with perturbed force,
And gnashing with impenitent Remorse--
That juggling fiend, who never spake before,
But cries "I warned thee! " when the deed is o'er.
Vain voice! the spirit burning but unbent, 940
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,
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 950
'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 remembered not
So keenly till that hour, but ne'er forgot;
Things light or lovely in their acted time,
But now to stern Reflection each a crime;
The withering sense of Evil unrevealed,
Not cankering less because the more concealed;
All, in a word, from which all eyes must start, 960
That opening sepulchre, the naked heart[221]
Bares with its buried woes--till Pride awake,
To snatch the mirror from the soul, and break.
Aye, Pride can veil, and Courage brave it all--
All--all--before--beyond--the deadliest fall.
Each hath 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, steeled by pondering o'er his far career, 970
He half-way meets Him should He menace near!
XI.
In the high chamber of his highest tower
Sate Conrad, fettered in the Pacha's power.
His palace perished in the flame--this fort
Contained at once his captive and his court.
Not much could Conrad of his sentence blame,
His foe, if vanquished, had but shared the same:--
Alone he sate--in solitude had scanned
His guilty bosom, but that breast he manned:
One thought alone he could not--dared not meet-- 980
"Oh, how these tidings will Medora greet?
"
Then--only then--his clanking hands he raised,
And strained with rage the chain on which he gazed;
But soon he found, or feigned, or dreamed relief,
And smiled in self-derision of his grief,
"And now come Torture when it will, or may--
More need of rest to nerve me for the day! "
This said, with langour to his mat he crept,
And, whatso'er his visions, quickly slept.
'Twas hardly midnight when that fray begun, 990
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 stemmed--
Disguised--discovered--conquering--ta'en--condemned--
A Chief on land--an outlaw on the deep--
Destroying--saving--prisoned--and asleep!
XII.
He slept in calmest seeming, for his breath[222]
Was hushed so deep--Ah! happy if in death!
He slept--Who o'er his placid slumber bends? 1000
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
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 gemmed and braided hair;
With shape of fairy lightness--naked foot, 1010
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
In muttering dreams yet saw his pirate-guest,
She left his side--his signet-ring she bore,
Which oft in sport adorned her hand before--
And with it, scarcely questioned, won her way
Through drowsy guards that must that sign obey.
