No More Learning

Brief time had Conrad now to greet Gulnare,[218]
Few words to reassure the trembling Fair;
For in that pause Compassion snatched from War,
The foe before retiring, fast and far,
With wonder saw their footsteps unpursued,
First slowlier fled--then rallied--then withstood.
This Seyd perceives, then first perceives how few,
Compared with his, the Corsair's roving crew,
And blushes o'er his error, as he eyes
The ruin wrought by Panic and Surprise. 840
Alla il Alla! Vengeance swells the cry--
Shame mounts to rage that must atone or die!
And flame for flame and blood for blood must tell.
The tide of triumph ebbs that flowed too well--
When Wrath returns to renovated strife,
And those who fought for conquest strike for life.
Conrad beheld the danger--he beheld
His followers faint by freshening foes repelled:
"One effort--one--to break the circling host! "
They form--unite--charge--waver--all is lost! 850
Within a narrower ring compressed, beset,
Hopeless, not heartless, strive and struggle yet--
Ah! now they fight in firmest file no more,
Hemmed in--cut off--cleft down and trampled o'er;
But each strikes singly--silently--and home,
And sinks outwearied rather than o'ercome--
His last faint quittance rendering with his breath,
Till the blade glimmers in the grasp of Death!

VII.

But first, ere came the rallying host to blows,
And rank to rank, and hand to hand oppose, 860
Gulnare and all her Haram handmaids freed,
Safe in the dome of one who held their creed,
By Conrad's mandate safely were bestowed,
And dried those tears for life and fame that flowed:
And when that dark-eyed lady, young Gulnare,
Recalled those thoughts late wandering in despair,
Much did she marvel o'er the courtesy
That smoothed his accents, softened in his eye--
'Twas strange--_that_ robber thus with gore bedewed,
Seemed gentler then than Seyd in fondest mood. 870
The Pacha wooed as if he deemed the slave
_Must_ seem delighted with the heart he gave;
The Corsair vowed protection, soothed affright,
As if his homage were a Woman's right.
"The wish is wrong--nay, worse for female--vain:
Yet much I long to view that Chief again;
If but to thank for, what my fear forgot,
The life--my loving Lord remembered not! "

VIII.
And him she saw, where thickest carnage spread,
But gathered breathing from the happier dead; 880
Far from his band, and battling with a host
That deem right dearly won the field he lost,
Felled--bleeding--baffled of the death he sought,
And snatched to expiate all the ills he wrought;
Preserved to linger and to live in vain,
While Vengeance pondered o'er new plans of pain,
And stanched the blood she saves to shed again--
But drop by drop, for Seyd's unglutted eye
Would doom him ever dying--ne'er to die!
Can this be he? triumphant late she saw, 890
When his red hand's wild gesture waved, a law!
'Tis he indeed--disarmed but undeprest,
His sole regret the life he still possest;
His wounds too slight, though taken with that will,
Which would have kissed the hand that then could kill.
Oh were there none, of all the many given,
To send his soul--he scarcely asked to Heaven? [219]
Must he alone of all retain his breath,
Who more than all had striven and struck for death?
He deeply felt--what mortal hearts must feel, 900
When thus reversed on faithless Fortune's wheel,
For crimes committed, and the victor's threat
Of lingering tortures to repay the debt--
He deeply, darkly felt; but evil Pride
That led to perpetrate--now serves to hide.
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, 910
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.

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 920
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,
That day by day Death still forbears to slake,
While famished 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, 930
And left proud Conrad fettered and alone.

X.