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 J
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 n 
 
 THE PIRATE. 
 
 BY J. H. DUCKETT. 
 
 HIC ILLIC STBAGES ET TRISTIA FUNERA SPARGIT. 
 
 HonOon : 
 
 rUBLISHED BY BALDWIN, CRADOCK, AND JOY; 
 
 MC'laCHLAN and STEWART, EDINBURGH ; 
 
 AND J. SLOWAN, NEWCASTLE 
 
 UPON TYNE. 
 
 1821.
 
 NEWCASTLE ((FON TTNE . 
 PRINTKD BY EDWARD WALKER, PILGRIM -S.TKFjrt^
 
 ■PR 
 
 It was in passin^v over some of the most mountain- 
 ous and romantic parts of Switzerland, (where the 
 snow, falhng at all seasons of the year, creates those 
 immense fields of ice, or glaciers, which, raising their 
 ^ lofty summits above the clouds, form precipices of 
 the most terrific and stupendous appearance; on which 
 the nimble Chamois is never seen to bound, and 
 where the mountain shrub is never seen to flourish,) 
 that these beautiful lines of Lord Byron, in his Ode 
 to Time, occurred to my recollection : — 
 
 One scene even thou canst not deform ; 
 
 " The limit of thy slotli or speed, 
 When future vanderers bear the storm 
 
 Which we shall sleep too sound to heed. 
 And I can smile to think how weak, 
 
 Thine efforts shortly shall be shewn ; 
 When all the vengeance thou canst wreak, 
 " Must fall upon — a nameless stone,"
 
 VI 
 
 Yea, it appeared to me, that a " nameless stone," 
 or very probably no stone at all, except the riven 
 rock that had bounded from its foundation of past 
 ages, should, in a short time, cover me. Yet I felt 
 myself most agreeably surprised at the sight of those 
 beautiful corruscations of the glittering ice, which, 
 reflecting back the rays of the sun in a thousand va- 
 ried colours, present the most splendid appearance 
 the eye can behold. To see those wonders of the 
 creation shooting their tall spires into many a fan- 
 tastic shape ; at one time assuming the appearance of 
 turreted castles, pyramids, and domed edifices — at 
 another, presenting the view of unbounded forests, 
 interspersed with cottages. The terror I felt at my 
 perilous situation was great, traversing over paths 
 hanging betwixt heaven and earth, expecting that 
 every step I proceeded would plunge me into gulfs, 
 to the bottom of which the eye could not reach. This 
 situation, so novel, and apparently so dangerous, for 
 awhile contracted my power of thinking, and all my 
 ideas were absorbed in one only thought, that of a
 
 Vll 
 
 conclusion to my journey sooner than I couki expect, 
 and indeed sooner than I could wish. 
 
 I was not suffered to remain long in this vacuity 
 of reverie, for the clouds began to gather in a fleecy 
 canopy over our heads, and gave the necessity of 
 looking around for a shelter from the impending 
 storm. The wind was hoarsely roaring amongst the 
 icy rocks, and driving full in our faces a sleet more 
 piercing than can be easily described. There was no 
 object that presented itself to our longing sight that 
 could for a moment protect us from the inclemency 
 of the weather. Our mules, that had travelled se- 
 veral leagues, and patiently endured their tedious jour- 
 ney without making one false step, began to flag, and 
 our guides could give us no hope of a speetly end to 
 our day's route, except the one already mentioned. 
 The sun had been long declining in the west, and the 
 snow, which now fell in large flakes, exhibited one of 
 the most dreary prospects I ever beheld. The endea- 
 vours of our guides to elevate their spirits by humming 
 o'er some funeral dirge, or whistling some plaintive
 
 Vlll 
 
 air, produced an opposite effect upon us. One of 
 them, however, had frequent recourse to a bottle of 
 old Nantz brandy, which all our desires to the con- 
 trary could not prevent, and the dangers with which 
 he was surrounded had no effect upon his mind what- 
 ever. He continued to pour in the liquid fire, " to 
 " keep," as he said, " the cold out," until he became 
 literally intoxicated. It was here that I witnessed a 
 scene of horror which no pen can describe : as he was 
 endeavouring to dismount, to give a little ease to his 
 mule, his foot slipped, and in a moment he was pre- 
 cipitated down a gulf more than fifty fathoms deep ! 
 His body rolling over and over in its descent, dashed 
 against the protruding points of the rocks. I shudder 
 at the recollection even now, what I did then, I shall 
 leave to the idea of my readers to imagine. One 
 scream from the suffering wretch was all we heard, 
 and he was launched for ever into that eternity we all 
 dread to meet ; hurried into the presence of that Be- 
 ing, concerning whom we can form no just concep- 
 tion, with all his unrepented sins upon his head.
 
 IX 
 
 Our remaining guide looked down that abyss into 
 which his comrade had fallen, unconcernedly exclaim- 
 ed " Poor fellow !" and then proceeded. My thoughts 
 lingered witli him who had sunk for ever, all others 
 were excluded, self was forgot, and that scream, ring- 
 ing in my ears, was the only sound I heard for some 
 time. My thoughts reverted to his home, to his wife, 
 and children ; that wife, who would expect her better 
 self, would count the hours till his return, and look 
 for him, who alas ! would never return again. 
 
 " In vain for him th' officious wife j)repares 
 
 " The fire fair blazinj;, and the vestments warm ; 
 
 " In vain his little children, peeping out 
 
 " -^— — demand their sire 
 
 " With tears of artless innocence. Alas ! 
 
 " Nor wife, nor children, more shall he behold 
 
 " Nor friends, nor sacred home." 
 
 These meditations were at last broken by a no very 
 
 unpleasant cause; w^e perceived on turning an angle 
 
 of the road, a light that apparently came from some 
 
 hunter's cabin, affording at length a hope of retreat. 
 
 The cot was not far distant, and the approach to it 
 
 was by a gentle declivity. The darkness of the night 
 
 B
 
 prevented our seeing those beauties with which it was 
 surrounded, but we were less desirous of beholding 
 the splendour of the romantic scenery around, than of 
 gaining shelter from the night's cold blast. 
 
 When we reached the much wished-for spot, our 
 fading spirits again revived, and the past dangers were 
 for a while forgot. Our guide knocked at the door, 
 and requested a night's shelter for two weary cavaliers, 
 who were nearly sinking under their fatigue ; he asked 
 not twice — the door was opened by a venerable old 
 man, whose placid and cheerful features bade us a 
 welcome with a more cordial invitation than all the 
 sophisticated compliments of a courtier. A laro-e 
 wood fire was blazing on the hearth, which shed its 
 cheering warmth around, and a table was instantly 
 covered, with a loaf, which, though not of the fairest 
 colour, was however of the sweetest taste, and large 
 basins of goat's milk. The feast was not that of an 
 Epicure, but I truly think that an Epicure, hungry 
 as we were then, would have found a greater relish 
 in this humble fare, than all the pampered luxuries of
 
 XI 
 
 France or Germany could afford him. Our host, 
 with all the garrulity of age, which is commonly to be 
 met with amongst the peasantry, accounted for the 
 non-appearance of the only female who attended him 
 in that lone solitude, by telling us she had retired to 
 rest, and he was unwilling to disturb her at so untime- 
 ly an hour. We thanked him for his civility, and 
 requested him not to apologise for what, to us appear- 
 ed unnecessary, having every thing we could wish for. 
 Our supper being concluded, we were shewn into 
 a room, which for its want of elegance, sufficiently 
 compensated by its order and cleanliness. The furni- 
 ture it contained was a table, four chairs, and a bed, 
 whose Imen was as white as the snow that covered the 
 neighbouring mountains. Against the matted walls 
 hung a few old scriptural prints, and in a recess was 
 placed a shelf, on which lay a few books : curiosity 
 prompting me to examine them, I found they were of 
 the same nature as the prints ; but there was one, a 
 manuscript, or rather some detached leaves, — it was 
 written in a neat legible hand, — which bore on the first 
 
 B 2
 
 Xll 
 
 page the title of the Pirate. Too much wearied then 
 to examine them more minutely, I laid them on the 
 table, with the intent of perusing them in the morning, 
 and enquiring of our host the history of their author. 
 
 That morning arose, but not " with splendour," 
 nor even with " mild serenity," the sky was over- 
 shadowed with clouds, a thick mist was hanging in 
 midway air, and the snow which had fallen during the 
 night, lay thick upon the ground. Our kind host sug- 
 gested the idea of remaining where we were, for that 
 day at least, or should the weather not clear up, a 
 few days longer, if we found our abode comfortable. 
 Stephano, our guide, urged the necessity of proceed- 
 ing ; at the same time telling us, we had passed over 
 the most difficult part of our journey, and the little 
 snow on the ground woidd not at all impede us. We 
 thanked the old man with earnest gratitude for his 
 oflPer, but declined accepting it. Our breakfast was 
 served by a woman, the exact counterpart of our host. 
 After talking for some time on indifferent subjects, 
 I asked him who was the author of the manuscript I
 
 Xlll 
 
 then helil, for I forgot not to bring it out of the room. 
 He told me it was written by a young Englishman of 
 
 the name of M , who had resided with him 
 
 some time, and a day or two previous to our arrival 
 had set off with the intention of procuring a passage 
 to Sicily, and supposed as he had left it, he should 
 have no further occasion for it, that I was welcome, if 
 I wished, to take it. I readily accepted the offer, and 
 put the papers in my portmanteau. We again set off, 
 after having recompensed our host for the trouble he 
 had been at, and reached Baden without any thing 
 worthy of further notice occurring. 
 
 Having no particular business to detain us there 
 any length of time, we proceeded on our passage 
 homewards, and after all the difficulties I had passed, 
 I hailed the chalky cliffs of England with rapture, ren- 
 dered doubly dear by an absence of three years, and 
 the recollection of those dangers I had so luckily 
 escaped. The moment arrived when I could undis- 
 turbedly sit down to peruse the Fragment, which had 
 fallen into my possession in a manner so particular,
 
 XIV 
 
 and shall now transcribe it without alteration or com- 
 ments, as the merits or demerits it possesses will be 
 sufficiently discovered and appreciated by those who 
 will favour it with perusal.
 
 Lo, by thy side where Rape, and Murder, stands ; 
 Now give some 'surancc that thou art Revenge, 
 Stab them, or tear them on thy chariot wheels ; 
 And then I'll come, and be thy waggoner, 
 And whirl along with thee about the globes. 
 Provide thee proper palfries, black as jet. 
 To hale thy vengeful waggon swift away, ' 
 
 And find out Murderers in their guilty caves. 
 
 Shakespeare's Troilus and Cressida.
 
 Xljc ^ivatt. 
 
 ^KTtHNUM SERVANS SUB PECTORE VULNUS. 
 
 Virgil. 
 
 JLoNG had thf lliickenin<r gloom a storm foretold, 
 
 As wildly roll'd the heavy clouds across 
 
 The dark expanse of Heav'n ; whilst ever and 
 
 Anon, the lightnings flash in vivid streams 
 
 Shot forth — the waves, tumultuous toss'd their spray 
 
 Iq foamy rage — the wind, in hollow gusts 
 
 Swept o'er the surface of the roaring sea. 
 
 And air, and ocean, seem'd in one grand strife, 
 
 T'incrcase the horrors of that dismal hour. 
 
 Loud peals of thunder rattled in the sky. 
 
 And Nature seem'd convulsed ! 'Twas then that in 
 
 His shatter'd bark Sigismund felt his soul
 
 18 
 
 Shrink in itself — 'twas then, he learnt how weak 
 
 Is man — he learnt — and trembled at the voice 
 
 That on the tempest borne, proclaimed a God. 
 
 Had he ne'er seen, or felt before, he felt 
 
 It now ; he saw the lightning of his ire 
 
 Illmne the sky ; he saw the fiery 
 
 Fluid skim along the deck — rush to the 
 
 Boiling main — and dash the waters to the 
 
 Highest Heav'ns. He marked its ruthless path, 
 
 He saw the livid corse of one, whom in 
 
 Its fall 't had struck — the black and ghastly form, 
 
 That in the least portion of divided 
 
 Time, had changed the goodly hue of life and 
 
 Health, for that of death — the soul had left its 
 
 Once fair tenement, a shapeless mass of 
 
 Black decay. — He saw another dash'd to 
 
 The great world of waters — he beheld him 
 
 By the broad flashes, buffet with the waves — 
 
 He saw him struggle — and with his lusty 
 
 Arm drive back his powerful foe ; he saw him 
 
 Sink — and rise — and sink — to rise no more — he 
 
 Heard his last dread scream — his awful cry for 
 
 Aid — he heard, and trembled. — Now would he bend, 
 
 And pray to Him for aid, that he might 'scape
 
 19 
 
 The many deaths before lus eyes. That God 
 Whom he denied, he now implores with zeal 
 Most fervent. — Can that prayer be heard ? — It is ! 
 The winds are hush'd — the thunders cease to roll — 
 And less the lightning's flash is seen — the waves 
 No more in billows rise — and all the scene 
 Is changed — 'Tis even so — Sigismuiid's heart 
 Is altered too — he laughs to think that he 
 Had prayed, forgetful of the dangers past, 
 And bids the can of grog fly round. 
 
 And dost thou think, fond man, that it will e'er 
 Be thus ? That he who reigns above will wink 
 For ever at thy sins ? — That having once 
 Escaped his wrath 'twill always be thy lot? 
 Ah no ! Soon wilt thou know that he, who ne'er 
 Yet erred, still holds the cup of vengeance o'er 
 lliy head. 
 
 The gales now prosp'rous blow, and lightly skims 
 Sigismund's bark — his heart as light, is buoyed 
 With expectations sweet, of once again 
 To see his native land ; enriched with all 
 The world calls wealth — with purest gold, and gems 
 Of costly worth. The thoughts ol friends, and hon)e 
 Elate his breast with joy ! Ideas crowd 
 
 c 2
 
 20 
 
 Upon his mind with rapture fraught, as o'er 
 
 The deck with haughty mein he strides ; liis eyes 
 
 With pleasure sparkling, like the stars that stud 
 
 The wintry sky, and too, their circling brows 
 
 In graceful arch high rais'd, and tow'ring mark 
 
 His inward daringness of soul, to deeds 
 
 That men would shudder at. — For is there aught 
 
 In the dark catalogue of sins, that he 
 
 Would hesitate to do ? That scornful lauah 
 
 That e'en just now he rais'd, proclaimed the fiend. 
 
 The demon that possess'd his mind. That laugh 
 
 Is fled — that haughty look is lowered, and o'er 
 
 His face a paleness spreads, and his curved brow 
 
 Contracted in a horrid frown, bespeaks 
 
 The rage that rankles at his heart ; he stamps, 
 
 And mutters words of dark import, for now 
 
 He sees, fast sailing o'er the deep, the foe 
 
 To merchants, and the seamen's dread, the dire 
 
 " Corsair" — those pirates of the main, who long 
 
 Had scoured the watry world, and spread where'er 
 
 They went, destruction with unsparing hand, — 
 
 Of nations' laws regardless — until thou 
 
 Great Exmouth ! — tliou, whose name strikes terror to 
 
 Their coward souls — unfurl'd the y;lorious flaff
 
 21 
 
 Of liberty before their walls — and laid 
 
 Their f^rand depot of slavery in the dust. 
 
 Thy laurels, Exmouth, flourish with a hue 
 
 That ne'er will fade — thy name will sound o'er lands 
 
 Far distant hence — enfranchised slaves will raise 
 
 The glorious shout with rapt'rous voice, and all 
 
 The hills re-echo back the word ! 
 
 A solemn silence rei<jns — 'tis 
 Mute attention all — their boist'rons mirth is 
 Chan<red, and expectation sits in ev'ry 
 Face pourtray'd. The guns are pointed, and the 
 Word is given — the smoke in whirling eddies 
 And the flashes rise — the whistling balls fly 
 Thick, and fast, and fell destruction rages 
 All around. The victors' shouts, and dying 
 Groans — the crash of splintered masts, and timbers 
 Riven by the shock of bullets, hurl'd with 
 The lightning's force, and the rattling of the 
 Cords, are mingling with the cannon's roar — now 
 Here, then there — Siuismund's running in the 
 Thickest fiuht — the din of war affri<»hts him 
 Not — but seems to cast a gleam of horrid 
 Pleasure o'er his ftice, as fierce he stalks the
 
 ^2 
 
 Demon of the fray, destruction dealing 
 With his pow'rful arm. The contest hangs 
 On doubtful wing, scarce knowing where to light. 
 At last a shout more piercing than the yell 
 Of fiends strikes on Sigismund's ear — he stands 
 Aghast — his fearless heart sinks in his breast, 
 And from his trembling hand the bloody sword 
 Falls useless. Where now are all his dreams of 
 Pleasure fled ? His fondly cherished hopes — his 
 Sighs, and wishes, for his native land ? No 
 More the smile of pleasure gilds his cheek — No 
 More the sportive laugh curls up his lip, and 
 Dances in his eye. The Corsair's yell has 
 Driven them away, and now with horror 
 Listlessly he stands. There was a chaos — 
 Clashing jar of thoughts that floated wildly 
 In his mind, as unconnected as the 
 Atoms were before the first creation 
 Of the earth, when thro' the eternal space they 
 Wandered — driving in their trackless — pathless 
 Course without or end or aim — his eyes were 
 Lightless — for his mind was not — his limbs were 
 Pow'rless — for his reason waver'd on the 
 Brink — upon vacuity's delusive
 
 23 
 
 All-destructive edge — he stood like tlie wife 
 Of Lot — a form of mortal — the outward 
 Shew of human image. 
 
 The shouts grow louder 
 And the very skies return the noise — one 
 More effort sends on Sigismund's arm — once 
 More he wields the deadly blade, and drives the 
 Foe back on itself — compels the thick'ning 
 Crowd to quit his vessel's side — once more he 
 Calls his men around — exhorts them to the 
 Fight — but all in vain — superior numbers 
 Not superior skill the conquest gain'tl. 
 
 *##### gigrisniund lies 
 A prey to all the passions that invade 
 The human breast — he frantic tugs his chain 
 And rolls his eyes, with rage suffused, on those 
 Who stand around ; his teeth he gnashes — and 
 His madness vents in curses on his fate. 
 Captive now to those who feel no other 
 SufTrings but their own ; whom pity never 
 Soften'd to another's woes. His soul ne'er 
 Used to brook disgrace, he feels it heavier 
 Now ; thus to be lash'd amongst the common 
 Herd of men, and to be bought and sold, how
 
 ^4 
 
 Galling to his pride ! The bare idea 
 Strikes him to the heart. 
 
 He stood in thought absorbed — and yet it 
 Was not thought — it was a vacancy of 
 Mind — his restless eye was rolling — his lips 
 Were motionless — his arm upheld his head — 
 He gaz'd upon the watry wild — and yet 
 His eye was sightless — for it saw not — he 
 Beheld not the bright stars as they sparkled 
 In the obscure arch of Heav'n — he saw not 
 The meteors shooting from the firmament — 
 Darting thro' the air with swiftness to their 
 Centre of attraction — he beheld not 
 These. — He stood alone — save in the world of 
 His imagination — he had no tie 
 On earth — no friends — no love, his heart was void ; 
 Yet he had a wish for something that he 
 Knew not of — there was an object that he 
 Would have gain'd — yet knew not what it was. 
 The time gone by he could recal no more — 
 And of the future he knew nothing — it 
 Was as dark — and hidden unto him 
 As unto all men — but he would draw the 
 Curtain — and would learn his fate, he would call
 
 2.5 
 
 From the silent grave the souls of men wlio 
 Had departed from " tliis vale of tears" — that 
 He might gain a knowledge of the time to 
 Come. 
 
 There was a dark thought came o'er his mind — his 
 Chains — his pride — were all forgot, and bondage 
 Seem'd like nought to that — it brouoht the colour 
 To his pallid cheek, his eyes gleamed forth with 
 All their bright — their wonted lustre — and his 
 Breast hove with emotions big. Erect he 
 Stood, and all his manly form was shewn. His 
 Long dark hair hung loose upon his brow, and 
 Gave an air of wildness to his looks. What 
 Was't that rais'd his hands and eyes to heaven ? 
 What was't that quiver'd on his lip, and made 
 A sigh escape ? — Revenge ! — No more his wealth, 
 His country and his friends (those friends he once 
 Possess'd but since no more) are wish'd for now, 
 A hope that long was banish'd from his mind, 
 Has now return'd — he hugs it in his soul 
 And fancies wild, float thick upon his brain — 
 He clasps his burning foreliead with his hands 
 And breathes revenire ! 
 
 D
 
 26 
 
 Long had Moranna reigned the " fairest of 
 The fair," in gay Sevilla's court. The brave — 
 The haughty Dons, and foreign cavaliers, 
 Would each the wished-for smile, or dreaded frown, 
 With anxious look await, and hail that smile, 
 Or frown, as harbinger of future bliss, 
 Or end, to all their hope. Whether the gay 
 Fandango, or the minuet she graced. 
 With admiration each, assiduous 
 Strove, to be her partner in the mazy 
 Dance. — But whilst she gracious seem'd to all, not 
 One himself, could boast her favours given 
 To him, before the rest, they all were equal 
 In her good esteem. * * Amongst her 
 Many suitors, there was one, for manly 
 Beauty, and for deeds of arms, surpass'd the 
 Rest; of polished manners, and of noble 
 Birth ; was grave, or witty, as the moment 
 Called for either, or for both. What more was 
 Then required to make Moranna blest ! For 
 All the circles of the rich and gay, had 
 Seen Sigismund, gayest of the throng. He 
 Most attentive watch'd her wandering eyes, that 
 Every wish of her's he might prevent, and
 
 27 
 
 E'en before the wish had birth, unixsk'd for 
 Give, unto the utmost of her thought. 
 
 Sigismund's arts were all in vain, the heart 
 Of her he sought, had never felt the pow'r 
 Of love, had never felt tiie Godhead's sway. 
 In vain his dark eyes si)arkled at her sight. 
 Or the soft pressure of her hand in his, 
 Betrayed his fond desire. In vain the sigh 
 Suppress'd burst o'er his lips, or tiie dark frown 
 In vain attempted all his rival's hopes 
 To blast ; her heart obdurate, still refused 
 To own him as its lord. 
 
 Weeks, months, and years pass'd on, but still no 
 change 
 Was wrought in his behalf; his am'rous looks, 
 And all his sophistry were us'd to no intent. 
 And resolutions form'd, were broke, and form'd 
 Again. He pin'd with disappointment — sigh'd 
 For love, but sigh'd alas ! in vain. At last 
 Worn out, he left Seville, and swore, " to make 
 " Her wretched as he was himself." All now 
 Seem'd black that once had shone with splendour to 
 His eye — he now beheld with sorrow, all 
 Her wonted walks, and ott her fancied voice 
 
 D 2
 
 ^28 
 
 Her dearest form appeared in ev'ry breeze — 
 Oft would he start from dreams surcharg'd with bliss. 
 Whilst clasping to his breast his most belov'd, 
 Or pressing on her lip the ardent kiss ; 
 But waking, found his happiness was fled — 
 Had vanished into air, and left him as 
 He was before, forlorn and wretched. — Oft 
 Would he haunt whole days some grotto she had 
 Form'd — recline in some recess that she had 
 Once admired, or prostrate on the ground, to 
 Heav'n his wistful eye would cast. — Or else at 
 Midnight when the world was not — he'd listen 
 To the Raven's croak, or Owlet's scream — or 
 Think it music, when the Bat her shrillest 
 Twitt'rings chirp'd. 'Twas thus the time pass'd o'er, 
 long. 
 
 Drear — and sad — and yet no brighter prospects 
 
 Came — all — all alike, monotonous and 
 
 Dull. 
 
 Moranna still the glorious star rcmain'd 
 
 That drew th' attention of th' admiring throng. 
 
 And rais'd the homage of adoring hearts. 
 
 In praise of her the witlings of the day 
 
 Exert their muse, to paint her blooming cheeks
 
 29 
 
 Or laughing eyes — to write the " jeii d'esprit," 
 
 And in Acrostic join her magic name. 
 
 All used their most effbrtive jx)w'rs to please. 
 
 But e'en Moranna found that love was not 
 
 A toy — a bauble to be played with — not 
 
 A name without reality — dwelling 
 
 In the Poet's brain. The passion on her 
 
 Senses crept with silent pace, without her 
 
 Pow'r to drive it back. It stole the roseate 
 
 Blushes from her blooming cheek — and from her 
 
 Eyes that gleam'd refulgent beams their lustre 
 
 Took. The wit that from her lips flow'd doubly 
 
 Keen, was now no more. 
 
 There was a foot whose steps would make her heart 
 Beat quick against her breast ; there was a voice 
 Whose sound was music to her ear ; and a 
 Form there was, at whose approach, the colour 
 Mounted to lier face, and ting'd her iv'ry 
 Neck. — Whose foot, whose form, and voice thus caus'd 
 
 such 
 Tunmlts in Moranna's mind ? It was a 
 Man, whose soul was made for love, whose form was 
 Made for women's conquest — he — Mustapha 
 Called, could boast of ev'ry virtue that had
 
 30 
 
 Name, and all that ever mortals counted 
 
 Good. His every quality a Christian 
 
 Would have graced — but Moor, and Infidel he 
 
 Was, and bow'd in strict obedience to the 
 
 Laws of Asia's prophet. Schisms, and dogmas 
 
 Thought he never of, nor held in hatred 
 
 Those who were adverse to his belief. 'Twas 
 
 This Mustapha who had won Moranna's 
 
 Heart — 'twas he alone possessed the treasure 
 
 Of her love — his name she gently whisper'd 
 
 To the gales, and sigh'd for solitude 
 
 And him. Their souls were knit in unison ; 
 
 For he, Moranna lov'd, as much as she 
 
 Did him ; and oft they'd walk within the groves 
 
 When 'neath the western hemisphere, the sun 
 
 Had set — and list'ning to the Bulbul's* notes 
 
 As o'er her fav'rite rose her plaintive song 
 
 She rais'd, they'd catch the softness of the breeze 
 
 And pledge their mutual vows. 
 
 With madness heard Sigismund of the Moor's 
 Success, and vow'd his death. Tho' all the pains 
 Of torture and of Hell — tho' racks and fire 
 
 * See Note A.
 
 31 
 
 Were plac'd before his eyes t'impede his pjith — 
 Yet would he rusli upon the sabre's point, 
 And stand before the nuird'ring cannon's mouth 
 T' obtain fulfilment of his wish'd intent — 
 Yet ere lie reach'd Seville, where all his hopes 
 Where all his fears had birth, she (who had been 
 To him as life and soul) had giv'n her hand 
 Unto the Turk in wedlock's bands,* and both 
 Were far beyond his weak pursuit, as o'er 
 The boist'rous sea the vessel cut the waves 
 Tow'rds Algiers' shores — He call'd the adverse winds 
 Upon their bark to blow, and bid the storms 
 Arise, to drive them back, that he might plunge 
 His dagger in Mustapha's breast, and drag 
 His widow'd bride to caverns dark, where he 
 Might feast on her luxuriant charms. 
 
 In vain he sought in pleasure's varied round 
 To lose the recollection of the past ; 
 In vain he sought amongst the fair, to find 
 One more Moranna to niake up the void 
 That now he felt. There was no other that 
 Could e(jual her — in grace, and beauty, she 
 Excell'd them all. 
 
 * See Note B.
 
 32 
 
 Resolv'd to brook his thoughts no more, he left 
 His country, for Peruvian coasts, and thus 
 Returning thence, his capture by the Moors. 
 A two-fold cause he had to hate the race, 
 And one he mark'd that hatred to receive. 
 He ponder'd o'er imagined wrongs, and in 
 His mind — deep — horrid machinations form'd. 
 His plots were blacker than the Hell that gave 
 Them birth — or he who first engender'd them. 
 He drew the deadly weapon from his breast 
 And felt the point — a little drop of blood 
 Had rested there — and dimm'd its polish'd 
 Blade — it was his own that tinged it thus — he 
 Wiped it not away — but hailed it, as the 
 God of Vengeance, curs'd horribly the hand 
 That made it flow — and wish'd that all the blood 
 In Moorish veins was there — wish'd lie could blast 
 In death their hated souls — but most he wish'd 
 Upon Mustapha's head — Revenge ! 
 
 *' ^u. ^t- -.u. ^ ^. •a. ^ ^ ^■ 
 
 The winds blow prosp'rous, and the " Corsairs" 
 town 
 Arises to the view ; its gilded fanes, 
 Its lofty battlements are seen above
 
 33 
 
 The green wave's edge : houses o'er houses rise, 
 And pillar'd mosques their lofty domes erect, 
 Where superstition bends the knee, and vice 
 Beneath the holy garb lies hid. The Moor 
 On terraced roof supinely lies, and quaffs 
 Unseen, the grape's forbidden juice : whilst she, 
 Whom most he loves (tho' least beloved by her,) 
 Pours from her lute soft music on his ear. 
 But he can ne'er th' cxtatic pleasure feel 
 That flows from love reciprocal — he to 
 His breast by force, the virgin takes, whilst she 
 Fiom his loath'd embrace reluctant turns, and 
 Sighs for one who ne'er can be her lord. She 
 Seeks not what can most encrease the pleasure 
 Of his soul, but by compulsion serves him. 
 Not adores — her eye at meeting him cast 
 Down — not sparkling with the rapture of soft 
 Love — the glitt'ring tear starts forth, and all the 
 Crinison rushes to her cheek. But he who 
 Thinks of no one save himself, feeds on her 
 Beauty — revels in her charms, th' unwilling 
 Captive of his brutal lust. 
 
 There stretch the lengthened ramparts — and the 
 fort
 
 34 
 
 From whence is hurl'd destruction on the foe — 
 There, too, the gallies quickly glide along. 
 And dash the waters with their num'rous oars, 
 Whilst groaning 'neath the lash the wretched slave 
 With blood-stain'd sides, and weary arm tugs hard, 
 Whilst ev'ry sinew stretch'd, the sweat upon 
 His forehead stands in drops, and high his chest 
 With anguish heaves. — Oh slaveiy ! thou foe 
 To peace — thou sad — thou fell usurper of 
 All human rights — thou curs'd destroyer of 
 All liberal arts ! How long shall nations feel 
 Thy iron rod ? How long shall mortals groan 
 Beneath thy sway ? When will the daring soul 
 Burst forth, and soar beyond thy reach ? the soul 
 That pants for liberty — and life. 
 
 The Pirates' vessel quickly glides to port, 
 And by the shouts of turban'd Moors is hail'd : 
 Confusion reigns around — the Corsairs laugh — 
 The prisoners groan — all — all arise in one 
 United sound. The Mole is crowded by 
 The idle throng of different nations. Here, 
 The bearded Jew with Turks consorts, and there 
 The wandering Arab mingles with the Moor. 
 Upon the motley group Sigismund fix'd
 
 35 
 
 His earnest gaze, no mark, no sifrn tliere was 
 
 By which his thoughts could be attain'd, 'twas all 
 
 Serene — a treacherous calm was there — no 
 
 Frown to tell the inward struggles of his 
 
 Mind. — But 'twas not so within. He saw that 
 
 Land — the birth-place of his foes — that land too, 
 
 Held his heart's sole treasure — held Moranna. 
 
 And he might be sold to the hated Dey ! 
 
 The thought has changed his look, a frown was there— 
 
 But now 'tis gone, and all again is just 
 
 As 'twas before. — 
 
 With mien erect and tow'ring form he walks, 
 Slow dragging at his heels the pond'rous chains ; 
 Whilst 'round him press the onward crowd of slaves, 
 Like him the captured booty 
 Of the Pirate's arms ; and slaves who free are 
 More enslaved than those, tho' on their limbs the 
 Shackles have no hold — the crouching slaves of 
 Tyranny and fear. He had not in his 
 Eye the sight of those around ; he saw not 
 Near, the coward throng who mock misfortune 
 With the jeering laugh, the shout of scorn, the 
 Pointed finger, or the loud huzza. He 
 
 £ 2
 
 86 
 
 Saw not these, from 'neath his down-cast brows ; no 
 Sound of revelry or mirth — no scoffing 
 Hoot he heard, so deeply buried in the depth of 
 Thought. Once was his dark eye rais'd — and once a 
 Glance turned fiercely on the standers-by, who 
 Shrunk appalled, nor durst again oppose their 
 Gaze to his, as wildly flash'd indignant 
 Streams of hatred from his full dark orbs. 
 
 A distant shout, as of admiring 
 Crowds, arose upon the calmness of the 
 Scene, and then another yet more loud than 
 That, as forward pressed the thousands, and the 
 Countless throng. A noble form there was, that 
 Upon a haughty steed came prancing on, 
 And the people bow'd and knelt in rev'rence. 
 The pirates bent the lowly knee, and in 
 Submission rais'd the suppliant hand. An awe — 
 A terror undefined — a feeling of 
 Inherent hate or dread, seized on the soul 
 Of him who until now had borne the keen 
 Emotions of his tortured soul, with all 
 The firmness of a Stoic's mind. He shook — 
 A sigh — a groan — burst from his troubled breast. 
 He stood a moment fix'd in dark despair,
 
 37 
 
 Or darker hope — whose aim was death. His pale 
 Mustachioed lip was quivering — and his eye, 
 Tho' plunged beneath the overhanging brow, 
 JSeem'd starting, bursting from its wonted bounds. 
 The morning dawned with all the splendour of 
 An eastern sky ; the light clouds, tinged with gold, 
 Spread o'er th' a^thereal arch, a vest, whose hue 
 Was bri<rhtcr than Peruvian ore. The fjales 
 That wafted on their light aerial wings 
 O'er gardens filled with oderif'rous flow'rs. 
 Breathed forth Arabian sweets, and bore alongr 
 The music of the feathered choir. 'Twas such 
 A morn, that in beholding, every sense 
 Was gratified, was rais'd beyond the earth. 
 And all the mighty wonders of the great 
 Creating power were seen, were felt, in full 
 Perfection ! 'Twas then the soul with rapture 
 Swell'd, and found the being of Omniscient 
 God ! 'Twas Nature in her brightest garb, her 
 Mildest form she had assumed, as o'er the 
 iScene, tlie beauteous orb of Heav'n refuWnt 
 Beams of brightness spread, that tinged the mountain's 
 Brow, and sparkled on the sea, with rays more 
 Splendid than the gems that glitter on an
 
 38 
 
 Eastern monarch's crown or sword. That morning 
 Dawn'd as if auspicious to the scene that 
 Algiers was to view. No dread Simoom* from 
 Afric's scorching desarts taints the air, nor 
 Stifles on the plain the weary Arab 
 In his wand'ring course, from heat unshadowed. 
 There were no burning sandsf, hot with the rays 
 Of mid-day sun, that floated on the gale 
 The messenger of death. 
 
 Thick from the opened gates the various crowd 
 Rush'd forth, with pleasure pictur'd on their sun- 
 Burnt fronts, and the busy hum swelled louder 
 And e'en yet more loud, as forth the blacken'd 
 Waves of mortals flowed along, as when the 
 Queen of bees from the straw portals of her 
 Low-roof'd mansion issues out, with her 
 Host of swarthy subjects in her train. The 
 Laugh — the shout — the loud huzza, and the clang 
 Of martial music mingling with the drum's 
 Dull distant roll — and the rattling wheels, and 
 Shrill neighing of the prancing steed — and at 
 Intervals the thundering echo of the 
 
 • See Note C. f See Note D.
 
 39 
 
 Cannon's measured roar, produce a more llian 
 Babel's discord to th' astounded ear. 
 
 Upon the 
 
 Face of each — upon tlie hibel where is writ 
 
 The thoughts, the wishes, and tlie being of 
 
 The mind — might be discerned — nay even in 
 
 The light laugh — there migiit have been perceived, the 
 
 Pleasure that these Moslems felt in knowing 
 
 That another heart was gained, another 
 
 Proselyte to raise the song of praise. 
 
 Of worship, to the prophet of the east; 
 
 And even more their joy tliat he should be 
 
 A christian whom their Dey had made his friend. 
 
 There were, howe'er, among the mingled throng 
 
 A few, who valued not appearance for 
 
 Itself — who looked beyond the surface of 
 
 Events, and knew the Apostate's meaning thro' 
 
 The dark veil — dissimulation's thicken'd 
 
 Cloud, that he had cast o'er all his deeds — they 
 
 Could perceive the motive, and the meaning 
 
 Of the act ; 'twas but a pretext for some 
 
 Future ill, a cloak, beneath whose shade lay 
 
 Villainy concealed. 
 
 Tho' Mussulmen they thought (and justly
 
 40 
 
 Too) that he who could forsake opinions 
 
 Grafted on his early mind, " that strengthened 
 
 " With his strength," woukl soon retract, whene'er he 
 
 Found a need, that faith in which he never 
 
 Could believe. 
 
 The moment came, and all was 
 Silent as the grave, no whispers buzzing 
 On the air were heard — no smile of scorn or 
 Levity was seen — there was no voice the 
 Scene disturbed — there was no sound the solemn 
 Silence broke — for it was all devotion — 
 Gravity — and awe. Th' Apostate stood with 
 Head bent down in silent thought ; suspense was 
 Mark'd upon his manly face, pale as the 
 Polish'd marble, which with his raven locks 
 Contrasted, threw o'er his whole contour a 
 More than mortal look. Then he thought of his 
 Past life — and he grasp'd his sabre's hilt. He 
 Look'd to the time to come — and a smile of 
 Rapture glitter'd in his sparkling eye — the 
 Bright sword leapt from its studded sheath, and was 
 A moment pressed to his burning lip — then 
 Hid in its place of rest. But when he spoke 
 The recantation of his former faith,
 
 41 
 
 In accents hollow as the wind that roars 
 In mountain caverns — then did he tremble. 
 And a flush spread o'er his livid face ; he 
 Seem'd to faulter for awhile — collected 
 All his fleeting strength — made one effort, and 
 Finish'd what he'd thus begun, consigned his 
 Soul to misery without end. 
 
 A murmur slowly ran along the crowd, 
 At first but scarcely heard, it then increased 
 And swelled in higher peals ; the plaudits rent 
 The skies, and echoed from the hills, as loud 
 They issued from a thousand tongues. The rites 
 Are o'er, the ceremony's done, and there 
 Is now another added to the list 
 Of those, who basely promised to obey 
 Mahummed's laws — who swore to think no thought, 
 To do no deed, in contradiction to 
 His will, but ev'ry ordinance of him 
 Revere — hold their own countrymen in hate. 
 Because they're christian dogs, wage war on all 
 Who bear the Christian name, and nothing think 
 A crime that can be done to them. 
 A Moslem now, Sigismund mounts his steetl. 
 Of jetty black, that foaming champs his bit,
 
 42 
 
 And rears aloft as if indignant of 
 
 Control ; his harness studded thick with gems, 
 
 Tosses his fine arch'd neck, and paws the ground. 
 
 His rider sits with ease the charger's back. 
 
 And proudly listens to the people's shouts ; 
 
 His flowing vest floats gaily on the wind. 
 
 And pleasure sits upon his lofty brow 
 
 Encircled by the turban's graceful folds. 
 
 Whilst his black ringlets, unconfined, sport on 
 
 The breeze, and wanton on the gale. There can 
 
 Be read from his dark eye's glance, that restless 
 
 Turns on ev'ry side, a something in his 
 
 Breast untold, a passion lurking, by whose 
 
 Power uncurb'd he felt eternal pangs that 
 
 Preyed upon his peace — if peace he e'er could 
 
 Find. Whene'er he smiled upon the Dey, that smile 
 
 Conveyed some horrid import. It was not 
 
 Mirth or pleasure call'd it forth, for wit that 
 
 From Mustapha flowed, was poison to his 
 
 Ear ; the serpent's hiss could rather rapture 
 
 Give, than all the honied sweets of richest 
 
 Eloquence, that ever by the Dey was 
 
 Utter'd. 
 
 But tliere was one in that vast crowd
 
 43 
 
 On whom Sigisniund's eye could wish to dwell. 
 There was a face that he could gaze upon, 
 And gazing, half forget his fancied wrongs, 
 Awhile forget — but stronger to return. 
 That face was rugged as the jutting rock 
 On which, not time, but vice had printed with 
 Deep characters the marks of age ; his large 
 Grey eyes glared from their shaggy brows. 
 With ghastly meaning fraught ; his upper lip. 
 On which the fierce mustachios curl'd, spoke all 
 The hatred that he bore to man ; his hair 
 Of fiery red, hung o'er his shoulders with 
 Ungraceful length ; whilst his low forehead bald 
 And uncover'd, bore the dark register 
 Of some horrid deed. That brow was never 
 Seen by man, no mortal eye had e'er that 
 Mark beheld, since first the arm of justice 
 Stamp'd it there ; since first the brand impress'd the 
 Characters of villainy, and cursed 
 Deeds. He was a Misanthrope, because his 
 Vices made him such ; he judged of men by 
 The false standard of his own black heart ; he 
 Stood alone in the wide world, without one 
 Social tie to render life a blessing ; 
 
 F 2
 
 No wife — no children ran to seek the kiss 
 
 Or blessing from paternal lips — no boy 
 
 Whose likeness to himself reflected back 
 
 The little image of his father's form 
 
 Would climb his knee to catch the wonted smile. 
 
 These joys were never his ; no friends had he 
 
 Nor love for any save himself, distrust 
 
 Was ever lurking in his breast, and hate 
 
 To all mankind the only passion that 
 
 He ever felt. At the mid of night would 
 
 He traverse o'er the crags, and climb the rocks 
 
 Whose rugged heads aspired to Heaven — to bare 
 
 His burning forehead to the winds, to lay 
 
 His bosom open to the cooling gales, 
 
 And curse his wayward fate. And he would sit 
 
 Upon the pinnacle of a tall cliff 
 
 Projecting o'er the sea, when thunders rolled 
 
 And the broad flashes of the lightning play'd 
 
 Around him, when the world of waters rose 
 
 In mountains, dashing their salt spray unto 
 
 The sky, when the clouds hung beneath his feet — 
 
 Then would he laujih — to see the warring clash 
 
 Of elements, the blasted trees torn from 
 
 Their root of ages, or the shiver'd rocks
 
 45 
 
 Bounding from their hard foundation to the 
 Briny deep — then would he laugh — for 'twas a 
 Demon's laugh, and its echo sounded like the 
 Roar of wild beasts. Sigismund oft had mark'd 
 The rolling of his large grey eyes — had seen 
 The working of his soul depicted in 
 The dark features of his face — liad watched with 
 Pleasure all the variations of his 
 Mind, that spoke sensations kindred to his 
 Own — for he, too, owed the Dcy a debt of 
 Hatred yet unpaid, and longed to dip his 
 Dagger in the warmest blood that circled 
 Through his heart. 
 
 Oft,— 
 
 Wlien the sky was dark, and the hoarse winds swept 
 Thro' the rustling leaves with hollow moan, when 
 The night birds screamed, and nature wore her garb 
 Of blackest hue — the dire compeers in guilt 
 Would meet, in thickest groves unknown to man, 
 Where the huge oak spread his tow'ring boughs, and 
 The ivy twining round his trunk, form'd a 
 Recess with the thick underwood, and trees 
 Whose branches spread umbrageous shelter o'er 
 The ground, impervious to the passing eye —
 
 iS 
 
 There rouse their enmity in iirms - repeat 
 The causes of their grief, lay plots, and swear 
 Eternal union in their mutual cause. 
 
 On the lofty turrets that rise o'er the 
 Haram's* walls, and proudly tow'r above the 
 Noble roofs, whose ornaments they form, the 
 Fair Moranna walk'd unseen, and view'd the 
 Cavalcade afar, that slowly wound its 
 Way through the crowded streets; she saw the 
 
 pompous 
 Pageantry, and heard the revels of the 
 Joyous throng. She saw approaching midst that 
 Crowd the first of all, her heart's sole idol — 
 Her beloved Lord : his form she knew, his 
 Lofty plume high nodding o'er his head, she 
 First espied, and recognized his shape 'mongst 
 All the rest. There was another whom she 
 Thought was known to her — his figure struck her 
 Recollection's eye, as one it had been 
 Wont to rest upon, tho' now the garments 
 Of a turban'd Turk he wore : she once had 
 JSeen the feathered helmet throw its dark shade 
 
 * See Note E.
 
 • 47 
 
 Upon his brow, she'd seen his stately tbrni 
 
 Attentive stand, and watch the rising blush 
 
 That mantled o'er her face with crimson hue, 
 
 Or sought the love-inspiring laugh with all 
 
 His pow'r. 8he knew — and shudder'd, for she knew 
 
 His heart. She'd heard that a stranger forsook 
 
 o 
 
 His faith, and for his folly sighed. 
 
 She knew the love he once had felt 
 For her, and now that love to hatred might 
 Be changed, his nature never could. Revenge 
 She sadly thought had brought him there, and fear'd 
 Mustapha's life. The blood ran coldly through 
 Her veins — her " trembling limbs" with terror shook. 
 The objects dimly faded on her sight. 
 As slowly drooped her agitated soul. 
 Her life seem'd flitting on her paly lip. 
 And her bright eye glazed could see no more. The 
 Colour came and went upon her snow white 
 Cheek — when the shrill trumpet's echo sounded 
 From afar, the cymbals clash, and the " gong's* 
 " Deep swell" aroused her lading spirits back 
 To their wonted seat ; again she looked for 
 
 * See Note V.
 
 48 
 
 The dreaded form, again she look'd tor that 
 
 Fearful man, and seeking, wish'd she might not 
 
 See th' Apostate more. The wish was granted, 
 
 For the crowd was gone, she listened for the 
 
 Trampling of the steeds, but list'ning, heard a 
 
 Softer tread : a lighter footstep sounded 
 
 On her ear that made her heart throb quick, and 
 
 Full, and brought the faded colour to her 
 
 Pallid face — when turning she was folded 
 
 In those arms that most she lov'd, was press'd unto 
 
 That heart which beat for her alone. The past 
 
 Ideas like the shadows of a fearful 
 
 Dream evanish'd, and her soul was calm ; she 
 
 Felt in the present moment nought but bliss 
 
 To hear Mustapha's tongue whisper once more 
 
 In accents soothing all the love he feels, 
 
 To press once more her ruby lips to his. 
 
 To twine her lily fingers in his hair, 
 
 And mingle with his breath her frequent sighs. 
 
 The sweet — extatic joy — beams in her eyes 
 
 As on their silken fringes hangs the drop 
 
 To which the chrystal might in brightness yield. 
 
 Their souls in one conjoined, partook it seem'd 
 
 Of pleasures more than that which sons of earth
 
 49 
 
 Enjoy, with bosom press'd to bosom, and 
 
 With cheek close press'd to cheek ; they only lived 
 
 But by their mutual love, and absence, e'er 
 
 So short, seem'd moments ling'ring into years, 
 
 And hours protracted into endless time. 
 
 Mustapha ne'er such happiness could feel 
 As when the evening sun behind the hills. 
 That rais'd their heads in distance to the clouds, 
 Began to dip his golden disc, and throw 
 His crimson rays along the sky ; when too 
 Was heard the warbling, dying cadence of 
 The birds, that breath'd in notes melodious 
 Through the air their ev'ning lay ; when scarce were 
 Seen the leaves to tremble on the bouo-hs, and 
 All the flowers their fragrant scents diffused ; then 
 Would he walk beneath the shelter of the 
 Spreading planes — 'midst thickest groves, whose silent 
 Shades a soothing calm bestow'd, attended 
 By his life's best solace. 
 
 Moranna by his 
 
 Side, walked the sole goddess of the tranquil 
 Scene, 'twas she alone who made that place a 
 Heav'n, 'twas her bright eyes that made those beauties 
 Shine, and her gay laugh that cheer'd the rural
 
 50 
 
 View. Oil, wlien the moon full orb'dj and shining 
 
 With her mildest splendour o'er the sea, whose 
 
 Undulations soft threw back a thousand 
 
 Sparkling beams, and scarce a breeze its azure 
 
 Surface ruffled into waves — when not a 
 
 Cloud the clear horizon dimm'd — the bright stars 
 
 Twinkling, cast their borrow'd light with motion 
 
 Tremulous upon the waves — Mustapha 
 
 Then, would skim the watery world, with oars that 
 
 Dash'd impetuous in the briny spray, whilst 
 
 From her lute, Moranna struck harmonious sounds, 
 
 And added the yet sweeter harmony 
 
 Of her angel voice. 
 
 The moon sheds her light on the earth and the seas, 
 And scarcely the dark wave curls under the breeze ; ' 
 'Tis the hour of repose, when the tyrant and slave. 
 Are one in their slumbers, as one in the grave. 
 
 The angel of rest, and the spirit of love, 
 On their light downy pinions are hov'ring above ; 
 And the soul is as calm as the souls of the blest, 
 When the cares of the world are for ever at rest.
 
 51 
 
 Tho' all is now silent, and nature is mute, 
 Yet the song of the Bulbul, and chords of the lute, 
 Sound softly and sweet on the breast of the night. 
 By the stars as they sparkle with tremulous light. 
 
 And such was the mildness, and such were the hours, 
 When together we sat in the jessamine bow'rs, 
 In the land of my home, in my own native Spain, 
 Which perhaps I shall never re-visit again. 
 
 But my love and my heart are for ever with thee. 
 In the land of the slave, or the land of the free ; 
 And the loss of my friends I shall never repine, 
 Since I can possess such a friendship as thine. 
 
 Without sorrow or sadness we'll look on the past. 
 And resignedly yield up our souls at the last, 
 With the hope that in heav'n they again will unite, 
 In the regions of bliss, in the place of delight. 
 
 What heaven it is for hearts conjoined in 
 Love to steal from the busy world — retire 
 From dull formality of courtly pomp, 
 
 G 2
 
 52 
 
 And seek in solitude the real bliss 
 That emanates from passion, pure as that 
 Which holy spirits feel. To contemplate 
 The noblest works of nature's God. To see 
 His power confess'd in ev'ry gale that blows, 
 In every blade of grass that paints the lawns, 
 And hear his voice in ev'ry murmur of 
 The winds. 
 
 At those lone hours of solitude, and bliss. 
 With arm encircled round Moranna's waist, 
 Mustapha took delight to speak of one 
 He call'd a friend — this friend had been a slave 
 Whom he had bought, and rescued from the curse 
 Of bondage, and of chains — his birth-place Spain, 
 But only known by the Moorish name he 
 Had assum'd — Atalma — him, would he praise 
 Whole hours, enumerate his virtues, and 
 Extol the man ; and pity, too, he felt 
 For sorrows that were preying on his breast. 
 That anffiiish was his own — for he'd unseen 
 Beheld him stand absorb'd in thought, as if 
 Brooding o'er some inward grief, which now and 
 Then would burst o'er his lips in words suppressed, 
 Ejaculations unconnected, and
 
 53 
 
 Mixed with sighs, that from his very heart seem'd 
 Rent. A large black feather hung across his 
 Face, which half" averted, like the statue 
 Of despair appcar'd. He'd sometimes plunge his 
 Hand into his vest, and grasp some weapon 
 Which lay there conceal'd — and hurry on with 
 Lengthened strides, as if he tried t'escape his 
 Thoughts, or leave himself behind, then casting 
 Round a glance suspicious to observe if 
 Any watched his steps — the rustling of a 
 Leaf would break his meditations and his 
 Thoughts disperse. Or when the dark ocean lay 
 Unruffled — when its surface smooth as glass 
 Reflected the pale moon's beams — and the heavens 
 Were placid and serene — then would he stand 
 Upon the beach with eye uplifted, and 
 With mien as calm as the fair scene he then 
 Beheld — whilst his dark locks flowing o'er his 
 Breast — and his tow'ring form gigantic seem'd 
 Like a Genie sent from superior 
 Realms to guard the fate of man. 
 
 " Whene'er," pursued the Dey, " my 
 *' Presence he perceived, he'd quick advance, and 
 *' All his gratitude pour out in thanks.
 
 54. 
 
 *' Tho' he coiifessed that thanks or words could ne'er 
 
 *' Repay the debt of gratitude he owes, 
 
 " For they resembled letters written on 
 
 " The sands, which every gust of wind erased, 
 
 " And left no mark behind ! ' He wished,' he said, 
 
 " ' To do some daring act that would repay 
 
 " ' Me more than a thousand thanks ;' and then a 
 
 " Smile would play upon his face, which bore a 
 
 " Meaning that I could not tell ; 'twas like the 
 
 " Sun behind some dark cloud hid, which scarcely 
 
 " Penetrable, conceals his orb, but not 
 
 " Shuts out his piercing rays. A wish he oft 
 
 " Expressed to embrace the tenets of our faith — 
 
 " To be a Mussulman in heart, and soul. 
 
 " His wishes urged I not, but rather strove 
 
 " To make him think of the rash step he would 
 
 " EflPect, in thus denying all he had 
 
 «' Been taught to think as truth. I thought of thee 
 
 " Moranna, then ! 
 
 " He gain'd t'himself by various means the full 
 " Possession of my friendship's soul : 1 shared 
 " My heart with him and thee, tho' thou, my Love, 
 " Alone canst have ; he seeks for ever — 
 ******* and steals
 
 55 
 
 " The very secrets from my breast." Thus would 
 
 He praise Atalma with the greatest zeal, 
 
 And paint their friendship in most glowing tints. 
 
 Moranna listened to his tales, nor one 
 
 Comment e'er made, for something whisper'd her 
 
 Beneath his friendly garb was villainy 
 
 Concealed — some machinations deep — dark plots 
 
 And treachery. But when that day arrived 
 
 In which she knew Sigismund was the slave 
 
 Mustapha took to be his friend — her fears, 
 
 Her doubts, were all confirmed. Dangers she saw 
 
 Were hov'ring round Mustapha's head, without 
 
 Her pow'r t'avert their aim, for did she speak 
 
 Against th' Apostate aught of ill, the Dey 
 
 With chidings gentle took Atalma's part. 
 
 " No treachery beneath his open brow 
 
 " Lies hid — no villainy can lurk within 
 
 " His manly breast, the seat of honour, and 
 
 " Of all that's good. — 'Tis disappointed love 
 
 " That makes him wander at the midnii;ht hour, 
 
 " That steals the colour from his now blanch'd cheek, 
 
 " And from his weary eyes drives soothing sleep 
 
 Away. Then, wherefore think him bad ? why think 
 ' With prejudice of one, whose wayward fate 
 
 ((
 
 56 
 
 " Hath render'd miserable ? for if the 
 
 " Woman whom he loves be aught like thee — how 
 
 " Wretched is his lot ! — to love, and not be 
 
 " Loved again ; to sigh for one who never 
 
 " Can be his — for she is married, so he 
 
 " Says, and looks upon him with an eye of 
 
 " Hate. Yes, thou dost sigh ! I knew that thou 
 
 " wouldst 
 " Pity my poor friend, when thou shouldst hear his 
 " Very pitiable tale." Thus would he 
 Plead Atalma's cause with all the pathos 
 Of an earnest friend. That eloquence he 
 Used for one, his direst foe — he, who could 
 Drink his very blood — he who could plunge the 
 Dagger in his heart, and laugh to see him 
 Writhe beneath the deadly wound, could glut his 
 Eyes as with a feast, to see him rack'd, and 
 Tortured on th' accursed wheel. How different 
 Were their hearts ! The one, adorned with all the 
 Beauties that e'er virtue claim'd her own, in 
 Nature's fairest mould was form'd, sincere and 
 Generous. 
 
 The other black and malignant 
 As a fiend's — of ev'ry vice composed that
 
 57 
 
 Names possess, or in imagination 
 Dwell — that good men hate, and e'en the wicked 
 Fear. Could hearts like these in amity be 
 Ever join'd ? Could friendship e'er exist 'twixt 
 Vice and virtue, tho' the hate of one had 
 Never been before ? It could not be ! The 
 Fire would sooner burn in wtiter buried. 
 Or the snow unthaw'd would lie, within the 
 Crater of volcanoes spouting lava 
 From their wide rent jaws. 
 
 There was at Algiers in Moranna's suite 
 A monk — whose aged forehead, silvered o'er 
 With years, the mildest aspect bore. No stern 
 Enforcer of the rigid rules, that most 
 Are thought essential to religion's cause, 
 But just, benevolent, and kind ; the meek. 
 The able advocate of doctrines that 
 In truth and reason have foundation firm ; 
 One who e'er felt his will and duty bound 
 To live in charity with all men ; not 
 To judge with harshness of another's creed. 
 And all condemn who think not as himself. 
 But born with passions like the rest of men, 
 He could allow for others' faults. 
 
 H
 
 58 . 
 
 The good Anthonio (good as much as 
 Mortals are) confessor to Moranna 
 From her earliest youth had been : since first 
 The path of rectitude from that of wrong 
 She knew ; his counsels e'er were sought, and his 
 The pleasing task, the dawning beauties of 
 Her mind to watch. Her bosom secrets, he 
 The proved repository of all her 
 Thoughts, receiv'd ; but not from reluctant tongue 
 Extorted by the threats of holy cheat ; 
 Not from her bosom torn in fear that from 
 Some pious bigot should be hurl'd the dire 
 Anathemas — the Christian's dread ; no brow 
 Contracted, sullen, e'er dismayed her soul 
 As gently timid as the Mountain Roe. 
 But all the secrets of her purest mind 
 Were willingly disclosed to him ; her fears, 
 Her doubts, in his paternal ear she pour'd. 
 And he her confidence ne'er once abus'd, 
 But mildly listen'd to her tale, and gave 
 Advice, whose tenor unembittcr'd by 
 Reproach, came doubly soothing from his lips, 
 Those aged lips that utter'd truths divine. 
 
 Now in the moment of her greatest grief
 
 59 
 
 She sought Anthonio in tlie silent walks, 
 
 Where midst the rustling groves, and flow'rs that 
 
 throw 
 Their aromatic scents around, he would 
 Retire from the meridian heat, to muse 
 On things beyond the earth, commune in thought 
 With angels, and observe with eye 
 Researching, all the wonders of the God, 
 Displayed e'en in the beam that dances in 
 The fountain's marble bowl ; or breathe the air 
 That freshly bloweth o'er the sea. 'Twas in 
 The shelter of an arbour form'd of shrubs, 
 That twined their tendrils round the gilded posts. 
 And spread their spacious leaves t'oppose the sun's 
 Oppressive rays, she found him lying on 
 A Musnud,* stretched in contemplation deep ; 
 His hands devoutly crbss'd upon his breast, 
 His eyes to Heaven rais'd, and from his lips 
 The prayer was breath'd inaudible — awhile 
 In silent reverie she stood, the man 
 Of piety admired with inward thought, 
 
 • See Note G. 
 H 2
 
 60 
 
 Nor let one sound escape that might disturb 
 His meditations, or his prayer. 
 
 Arous'd at last he saw Moranna at 
 His side, who stood unconscious of his gaze ; 
 More hke the well-carved statue* that delights 
 The world, than one of earthly frame — so fix'd 
 Her eyes — so deadly pale her face — her vest 
 So wildly hanging from her up-rais'd arms — 
 And the solemn silence that was reigning 
 Round. Across his forehead twice he drew his 
 Hand, his recollection to recal, ere 
 He could think 'twas real what he saw — but 
 'Twas no phantom of a troubled brain — no 
 Idle vision of a dreaming soul — the 
 Well-known form he knew — it was no half-seen 
 Image or a dusky shade, 'twixt sleep 
 And wake, 'twixt day and night, that strikes the eye 
 Of conscience-stricken slave — his senses all 
 Were there, and he rose to stretch his hand to 
 The mourner in silent woe ; she shrunk at 
 His touch — she wildly exclaim'd, " Sigismund 
 ** Avaunt," and a sigh — and Mustapha burst 
 
 * See Note 11.
 
 61 
 
 O'er her lips, when again she was calm. " My 
 
 " More than child," says he, " in me repose your 
 
 " Grief, and if I can by aught relieve the 
 
 *' Sorrow of your mind, it shall be done — for 
 
 " All the pow'r that I possess is your's — if 
 
 " Mv advice you wish, connnand it now. Was 
 
 " There a pang that e'er you felt, which was not 
 
 " Felt by me ? Did e'er misfortune prey 
 
 " Upon your breast which did not doubly prey 
 
 " On mine ? Unfold to me the reason 
 
 " Of that tearful eye ; relieve your heaving 
 
 " Heart of that sad weight of woe, with which it 
 
 " Seems oppress'd. Is there an Islamite who 
 
 " On Moranna dares to frown, or any 
 
 " Wish of her's refuse — perchance Mustapha ?" — 
 
 " Mustapha ! no, good father, think not he 
 
 " Would cause me grief, though 'tis for him I grieve. 
 
 " Thou know'st, in Spain (Heav'n bless the place) there 
 
 " Was a man, Sigismund call'd, who offer'd 
 
 " Me his love, and sought with all his pow'r to 
 
 " Win my heart ; but too impetuous and 
 
 " Fierce — revengeful — more my horror and my 
 
 " Dread ; for when I look'd on his dark face, his 
 
 " Wild eye's flash spoke something to my mind at
 
 62 
 
 " Which it shrunk. I fear'd him — but I could not 
 
 " Love. The passion knew I not, till he — the 
 
 " Dey, first bless'd my wond'ring sight, 'twas then I 
 
 " Found— but to my present tale : Sigismund 
 
 " By the Algerines was ta'en, and to my 
 
 " Lord is sold : he took, it seems, Atalma 
 
 " For his name, and gain'd by means I know not 
 
 " Of, Mustapha's friendship to himself — and 
 
 " (God forgive him !) turn'd apostate to his 
 
 " Faith. Mustapha talks with rapture of this 
 
 " Friend, but knows him by no other name than 
 
 " That Atalma which he has assumed, he 
 
 " Would have rais'd him in the state, but he (for 
 
 *' Purpose vile I fear) a galley chose, and 
 
 " Now as Pirate sweeps the ocean's breast, and 
 
 " Carries terror in his blood-red flag : bold 
 
 " And courageous, nothing deems he danger 
 
 " When his pleasures are in view. One Zusht Murd 
 
 " Too — an Arab he by birth, in bonds of 
 
 " Amity (if friendship can exist 'twixt 
 
 " Men like these) has sworn himself the Pirate's 
 
 " Firm adherent, and accurs'd compeer. They 
 
 " Each have fancied injuries received, and 
 
 *' Both united seek Mustapha's death. These
 
 63 
 
 " Thinsfs I learn'd from Hassan, and I know them 
 « True." 
 
 " SigismunJ's late apostacy conceals 
 " Some purpose dread. In Spain he murder'd with 
 " A poisoned dart the husband of" a wife 
 " Whose beauty drew his lustful eye, and rous'd 
 " His eager passions into play, then bore 
 " The iiapless widow to some dark abode 
 " Whence man has never seen her since." 
 
 Anthonio listen'd with a patient ear 
 In silent reverie enwrapt. He knew 
 That she unprejudiced, would never say. 
 Without a cause, so much ; Sigisnmnd he 
 Had known before, and thought him all that e'er 
 Moranna had declared ; he'd often mark'd 
 The various changes of the human mind, 
 Could read his thoughts depicted in his face, 
 And knew — " the noblest study of mankind 
 " Is man." 
 
 The Kiosk* then they left. The monk to think 
 Of what he'd heard, and counteract the plans 
 And machinations of this dreaded foe. 
 
 » See Note I.
 
 64 
 
 It were not well t' acquaint Mustapha with 
 
 His thoughts, lest for his friendship he might turn 
 
 A deafen'd ear, or his Moorish blood might 
 
 Rise in jealousy 'gainst her who form'd his 
 
 Heav'n. For who can steel their breast against that 
 
 Fiend which rages hell-like thro' the purest 
 
 Mind, depriving happiness of all its 
 
 Bliss — making all things black — detestable — 
 
 And taking from the being its very 
 
 Essence — for in jealousy, the soul has 
 
 No tlelight, it receives no pleasure from 
 
 Its wonted joys — they are perverted — warp'd, 
 
 And the eye sees not but through a darken'd 
 
 Mist. It must not be, he'd hover like a 
 
 Guardian genius round Mustapha's head, 
 
 And watch the Pirate's movements with an eye 
 
 Of strictest care, then cross his path, e'en at 
 
 The moment of his fancied prey, and ward 
 
 The murd'rous knife upheld to strike tlie blow. 
 
 Moranna sought the Ilaram's walls, 
 Whose gilded roofs, and spacious halls, 
 Possess'd no beauty for her eye ; 
 But caused the sad obtruding sigh
 
 65 
 
 To rise within her beauteous breast, 
 
 So full of care, so void of rest ; 
 
 She sought her boy — her lovely child, 
 
 Witli his locks so white, and eye so wild, 
 
 Whose infant tongue beguiled her grief, 
 
 And gave her spirits oft relief; 
 
 As he with light step bounded o'er 
 The richly tesselated floor. 
 And laughed and danced in joyous glee ; 
 Or, mounted on his mother's knee. 
 Would fold her more than earthly charms. 
 Within his little polished arms. 
 And pull the wanton curls that flow 
 Around her forehead white as snow ; 
 Then lay his head upon her breast, 
 And sinking, yield his soul to rest. 
 
 How sweetly glides our time of youth, 
 The reign of innocence and truth ; 
 Wlien we have never known to sorrow, 
 Or think of aught beyond to-morrow ; 
 When all the heart is fill'd with joy. 
 And pleasure flows without alloy. 
 The laugh of peace is heard around, 
 As onward o'er the plain we bound, 
 
 I
 
 66 
 
 The goal in eager race to gain, 
 
 With all our little might and main ; 
 
 Or 'neath the sun's refulgent beam, 
 
 Dart headlong in the crystal stream, 
 
 And stem with out-stretched arm, the wave» 
 
 In which our wearied forms we lave. 
 
 Oh, childhood ! thou art sweet to view. 
 
 When we have pass'd thy happy days, 
 
 And manhood forms the soul anew. 
 
 Without thy pre-possessing ways. 
 
 We recollect thy days of strife, 
 
 We think upon thy days of peace. 
 
 But all the future of our life, 
 
 May never bring thy days of ease. 
 
 # * * * .* * *■* 
 
 A Pirate's galley long had swept the sea, 
 And on its crimson banners bore 
 Destruction, Death, and Fear. The leader of 
 Its crew was one, whose soul delighted in 
 The rapine of a Corsair's life, and in 
 Those deeds of blood, that fiends would e'en deny 
 A knowledge of; and he for ever seem'd 
 To wage with all mankind a war. Nations 
 Of friends or foes were each the same, the prey
 
 07 
 
 To his insatiate thirst for gold. No laws 
 
 Of God or man were left unbroke — nor earth 
 
 Or Heaven could his perjured vows e'er bind, 
 
 So prone to guilt, so dearly fond of vice, 
 
 That e'en his virtues border'd upon sin — 
 
 Thus cruel was the dire Atalnia on 
 
 The deep, more damn'd than Ghules,* that feast upon 
 
 The rotten corses of the slain, and glut 
 
 Their cursed jaws with death — than Vultures o'er 
 
 Their carrion flesh, or famish'd Wolves, that drag 
 
 Half-buried bodies from their graves, and howl 
 
 With rapture o'er their fav'rite meal. Zusht Murd 
 
 Was there — the incentive of the Pirate's 
 
 Crimes, the fiend that sway'd his mind, and ruled his 
 
 Actions with despotic hand — arous'd the 
 
 Sanguine tide — destroy'd or saved, as he should 
 
 Think expedient for himself. And when the 
 
 Twain united stood upon the deck, to 
 
 Dare the foe — like hell's fierce leaders then they 
 
 Seem'd, as o'er the dying and the dead they 
 
 Waved the fiery brand, or glitt'ring blade 
 
 That pierced the mortal frame, and sent the soul 
 
 * See Note J. 
 1 2
 
 68 
 
 To shades and darkness unexplored — then grinn'd 
 Like demons at their brutal acts. 
 
 One morn their lot was such, when on a cruise 
 To meet a vessel laden with the stores 
 Of Persia's richest wealth, and mann'd with sons 
 Of Britain's warlike isle ; their flag they knew, 
 And more than once their courage had been tried. 
 To fight or fly was now their only choice. 
 To fight was then resolved — to meet these lords 
 Of ocean, arm to arm to prove their skill 
 And valour in the battle's bloody strife — 
 To teach these hearts unconquered now to yield, 
 Or seek themselves Mahummed's Paradise* 
 Of joys. 
 
 The clouds of sulphur rise 
 
 O'er clouds, and down the vessel's sides the streams 
 Of life in gory channels flow ; Zusht Murd, 
 Like Eblis, stalks amidst the carnage that 
 He deals around, and urges on his men 
 To fight, or bravely conquering die. 
 Atalma meanwhile throws the missile dart, 
 
 • See Note K.
 
 69 
 
 Or points tlic thunderinfT gun, then leaps upon 
 The foenian's deck, and hurls his falchion round 
 His head, with reeking gore besmeared, that drives 
 A thousand souls to seek another world. 
 Onward he plunges through the prostrate heaps 
 Of slaughtered men, whose bodies fill the way. 
 To meet a Briton, from whose arm the slaves 
 Are shrinkinjr back : e'en the bravest of the 
 Crew retreat, but shrinking fly in vain ; at 
 Ev'ry stroke a Moslem " bites the dust," at 
 Ev'ry blow an Islamite is slain. They 
 Met — their swords struck out the latent fire, and 
 Clash'd with sounds discordant to the ear. Long 
 Was the struggle 'twixt these equal foes — now 
 One tlie victor seem'd, and then the other 
 Gain'd advantage o'er the adverse arm — they 
 Stood to breathe — then fought again — resolved to 
 Yield not but in death. The Briton's sword is 
 Broke, and useless falls — Ataln)a's quick as 
 Lightning rais'd to strike him to the heart, when 
 From a Nymph more fair than maid of Yezd,* a 
 Shriek was sent, as swift she flew between that 
 
 • See Note L.
 
 70 
 
 Blade and him, more dear than life : it pierced her 
 Breast, and down she sunk a victim to her 
 Love — the Briton's arm scarce press'd her fading 
 Form, before he likewise fell beneath the 
 Ire of him who gloried in their 
 Death. The Pirates rush'd with force impetuous 
 On the yielding crew, and ere an hour was 
 Gone, not one was left who sail'd from England's 
 Shores. 
 
 They found 
 
 The vessel laden with the richest wines 
 
 That Shirauz* e'er produced, and Ottar-gul,f 
 
 More precious than the golden mines, and silks 
 
 Of finest texture wove, the produce of 
 
 The Persian looms. Atalma and Zusht Murd 
 
 Retired to quaff in private, bowls of that 
 
 Delicious juice, which e'en to taste, their laws 
 
 Forbid. The potent draughts were swallowed, one 
 
 By one, till loud their mirth encreased, and boasts 
 
 Of feats that each performed were told with zeal. 
 
 *' I saw," Atalma said, " as in the fight 
 
 Thy glittering sword was rais'd, and down thy brow 
 
 * See Note M. f See N«tc N. 
 
 a
 
 71 
 
 " Huge drops of blood were trickliiio on lliy face, 
 
 " An arm uprais'd to strike tliee to the ground ; 
 
 " Rut erring in its course it graz'd the edge 
 
 " Of that bhick turban which thou always wears't. 
 
 " When lo ! the mark of murder I beheld, 
 
 " The brand's accursed stamp upon thy front." 
 
 " Then blasted be thy sight" — with inward curse 
 
 Zusht Murd exclaimed. " Nay mutter not thy oaths, 
 
 " Or cast those glances of thy hate on me : 
 
 " 'Twas 1 alone who saw, and stronger let 
 
 " The bonds of union now be knit, and blood 
 
 " The only prize henceforth we seek. Ere yet 
 
 " Another moon shall fill her orb, this blade 
 
 " Shall reach Mustapha's heart" — as from his vest 
 
 He drew the dagger with his own blood tinged, 
 
 And hid it there again. " Come tell thy tale, 
 
 " Unfold to me the cause why thou wert" — 
 
 IF tF Tf- ^ Tr tF ^ * Tr 
 
 " An Arab I by birth, o'er deserts hot 
 " With the burning sun, had wandered with 
 " My tribe, and dangers faced in every shape 
 " For twenty years. In infancy I heard 
 " The laughs and jeers of many on my form, 
 " For I was made by nature as thou seest,
 
 72 
 
 " And the accursed Zusht was added to 
 
 " My name. Those jests I treasured in my mind, 
 
 " As then too young t' avenge the insults 
 
 " I received, but hid within my breast, I bore 
 
 " Unseen by all the galling wound. My limbs 
 
 " Were strong and agile in the race ; 'custom'd 
 
 " To heat that makes effeminate the souls 
 
 " And bodies of our eastern clime ; to arms 
 
 " And labour I was wont, when others threw 
 
 " Beneath the shady palm their wearied bones, 
 
 " To use myself, and thus became enured 
 
 " To all the toils of lengthened marches, and 
 
 " Of choaking sands. When others sunk fatigued 
 
 " And weary in the chase, still foremost I 
 
 " Press'd on, and robb'd th' unguarded traveller 
 
 " Of his all. What pleasure was it to my 
 
 *' Soul to see the wretch depriv'd of ev'ry 
 
 " Solace of his life, and driven naked 
 
 " To the barren sands to die and rot ! I 
 
 " Hated all mankind, and in their mis'ries 
 
 " Lay my ev'ry joy — to snatch the cooling 
 
 " Draught from lips parch'd up and dry— to mock the 
 
 " Hungry with a promised meal, and dash the 
 
 " Yet untastcd food before it reach'd the
 
 73 
 
 " Eager teeth — to stab the well belovec! 
 " Child before his father's eyes, and tear the 
 ** Dauiihter from her mother's arms. In deeds of 
 " Horror was my sole delight, 
 " For I would rejoice to see the poor 
 *' Father of an helpless brood, with long lank 
 " Jaws, and eyes deep sunk, stand o'er with greedy 
 " Teeth his hungry babes, that wrangled for a 
 " Bone the dogs had picked and left as fleshless, 
 *' Or a mother wailing for her only 
 " Son, that lay upon the bed of death — her 
 " Last lone hope, the stay of widowhood — to 
 " See her sit, and watch with tearless eye his 
 Agonies, to hear his ceaseless moan of 
 Pain subdued, and dreading to behold him 
 " Sink for ever in the sleep of death." 
 
 " And should I 
 
 " Tell thee all that I have done, thy puny 
 
 " Soul Avould tremble at the tale — thy blood would 
 
 " Curdle in its veins — thy hair stand up — and 
 
 " E'en thy heart would cease to beat. Then wherefore 
 
 *' Seek'st thou here to know the meaninj; of this 
 
 " Mark ? Undaunted and unfearing can'st thou 
 
 " Learn the cause? Contemptuous curls thy lip? Tliea 
 
 K. 
 
 a 
 
 (<
 
 74 
 
 * Listen to the dread sequel. Our tents were 
 
 « Pitched where none did e'er approach, but wand'ring 
 ' Arabs like ourselves, or caravans of 
 ' Merchants seeking for the lucre of the 
 ' World. 'Twas morn, the still, calm early hour 
 " when all 
 
 • Is e'en more solemn — silent than the mid - . 
 ' Of night-*— when the sun's first rays scarce cast a 
 
 ' Light on Nature — when the grey solitude 
 
 ' Of the dull sky reflects upon the earth 
 
 ' A sober sadness, undisturbed by aught — 
 
 ' 'Twas morn — when the lone sentry pacing 
 
 ' His weary path of tedious shortness, watch'd 
 
 ' With wistful eye the slow advancement of 
 
 ' Returning day — whistling a plaintive strain, 
 
 ' Or humming o'ei some fav'rite air, counting 
 
 ' Perhaps at intervals his steps, or clouds 
 
 ' That floated heavily along, and in 
 
 ' Their wild fantastic forms depicturing 
 
 ' The semblance of every thing in Heav'n 
 
 ' Or earth ; when on a sudden he perceived 
 
 ' Thi'o' the misty shade a horseman scouring 
 
 ' O'er the plain — he stood — he called — and yet the 
 
 ' Rider slackened not his pace, but still held
 
 75 
 
 " On till he had reach'd the camp, then bounded 
 
 " From his harassed steed. It was th' expected 
 
 " Scout. The news he brought was rich — the yearly 
 
 " Tribute of the servile Shekhs, was borne to 
 
 " Algiers for the ruling Dey — the produce of 
 
 " Their lands — their wealth — and maids more beau- 
 
 " teous than 
 " The Chikil* nymphs. ' To horse' was echoed thro' 
 " The canvass walls, ' To horse' was sounded by 
 " A hundred tongues. From the busy tents our 
 " Swarthy sons of Arab hasten'd forth, and 
 " E'er the shout again was utter'd, moinited 
 " On their mettled steeds, and bounded o'er the 
 " Desert like the Sameyel'sf blast, in clouds of 
 *' Dust enveloped ; whilst their red cloaks streaming 
 " On their course behind, and their bright sheaths with 
 " Glitt'ring flashes striking on the eye — seem'd 
 " Like the course of fiery meteors 
 " Dashing thro' the wide concavity of 
 « Heaven." 
 
 " My spirits flow'd 
 
 *' With wildness at the thoughts of plunder and 
 
 • Sec Note O. f See Note P. 
 
 2 K
 
 76 
 
 " Of death. I sprung upon my fav'rite horse, 
 
 " And soon outstript them all, as wildly o'er 
 
 *' The deserts quick we flew ; a cloud of dust 
 
 *' Was floating in the air, and distant sounds 
 
 " Of Camels' feet were heard, the banners stream'd 
 
 " Upon the winds, and gaily flutter'd o'er 
 
 *' Their bearers' heads. I halted at the 
 
 *' Sight of num'rous guards, and slaves that march'd in 
 
 *' Close array, and tho' impatient, knew my 
 
 *' Single arm could nought avail amidst that 
 
 *' Host. Our horde arrived, and first on me their 
 
 *' Chidings heap'd, for having dared before our 
 
 " Chief t' advance. 1 curs'd the miscreant crew with 
 
 *' All the bitterness of hate, and wish'd them 
 
 " Sunk in death. They took the lead — and sullen, 
 
 " I the last of all their rank now slowly 
 
 *' Follow'd; buoy'd not up with expectation 
 
 " Of rich spoils, but turning in my mind the 
 
 *' Wrongs I felt, revolving plans of vengeance 
 
 " On their heads, when we o'ertook th' expected 
 
 *' Prey. They stood and met our onset with a 
 
 " Courage that sur})rized us all — but they were 
 
 " Men that fought for life, and when the life is 
 
 " Set at stake — e'en he that has no hope of
 
 77 
 
 ** Happiness on earth — and he who oft has 
 
 " Call'd on death, will stand and strii<i;gle with his 
 
 " Fate, to lengthen that which he has thought too 
 
 " Long. The wish to live, or tlread to die, gave 
 
 " Strength and vigour to their arm, and deadly 
 
 " Was the strife. Nor friend or foe escaped my 
 
 " Sword — for each (whene'er I saw the time) sought 
 
 " Other worlds in death — sent there by me, an 
 
 " Errand worthy of such sweet revenge — My 
 
 " Father — and my father's son, both went that 
 
 " Day to ' heaven or to hell' — not by the 
 
 " Foeman slain — but e'en by him 'gainst whom their 
 
 " Wit with ill directed aim had oft been 
 
 " Hurl'd. The vict'ry of that day was lost to 
 
 " Us, and I the captive of the Moors was 
 
 " Made." 
 
 " More beauteous than a Peri's form was her's, 
 
 " As her eyes' brightness shot with a sjilendour 
 
 " Like the sparkling of the morning star, and 
 
 " The blushes upon her beauteous cheek outbloomed 
 
 " The rose's dye — her pouting lips had stol'n 
 
 " Their hue from the red coral's rocky bed, 
 
 " And all her limbb were symmetry complete.
 
 78 
 
 " Her auburn locks hung flowing down her back, 
 
 " And her heaving breast half hid, more white than 
 
 " Marble from the Grecian Isles — 'twas like the 
 
 " Promised Houris of Mahummed's heaven. 
 
 " Oh ! shall I e'er forget the hour when first 
 
 " I saw the lovely maid, when first the light 
 
 " Of love burst forth within my heart — 'twas like 
 
 " The moon resplendent — when she breaks from some 
 
 " Thick black cloud, that hath hid her beams and left 
 
 " The world without a liffht — for till 
 
 " Then my mind was chaos — hopeless — wretched. 
 
 " When she, like the moon, diffused a light more 
 
 " Brilliant, as 'twas hid before. And dost 
 
 " Thou smile ? But thou hast never known to love ! 
 
 «' The new-born passion fill'd my ev'ry thought — 
 
 " Employ'd my nightly dreams — nay changed my 
 
 " Soul. 
 
 How like a 
 
 *' Fairy vision breaks the recollection 
 
 " Of the past upon my mind ! Oh, I could dwell 
 
 " For ever on that theme ! Could live upon 
 
 " That blessed thought alone ! Whene'er I heard 
 
 " The music of her voice command, I flew 
 
 " On wings of love t'obey ; her mandates were
 
 79 
 
 ' To me as law. Zalina, heavenly 
 
 ' Maid ! thy spirit now enjoys the prophet's 
 
 ' Presence, and thy breath is musk !* — But she could 
 
 ' Ne'er be mine, another lord would fold her 
 
 ' In his arms, would sip the nectar of her 
 
 ' Pouting lip, and drink the living draughts of 
 
 ' Love from her celestial eyes — Zusht Murd 
 
 ' Was never form'd t'inspire the passion in 
 
 ' A woman's breast — to win th' affection of 
 
 ' The softer sex. Long might my am'rous looks, 
 
 ' And fre(juent sighs declare the love that raged 
 
 ' Within my heart : it ne'er by her could be 
 
 ' Returned, attended by a thousand slaves 
 
 ' And all the pleasures that e'er wealth affords, 
 
 ' Zusht Murd could ne'er be thought of, much fess 
 lov'd. 
 
 " W^e track'd the burning desarts to Algiers, 
 
 " To lay the tributes at Mustapha's feet ; 
 
 " And she — Zalina — was the destined britle 
 
 " Of Kouli, Serdarf to the Dey. A youth 
 
 " Whose name was sounded thro' the realm» 
 
 " Victorious, and endow'd — or gildetl 
 
 " Sec Note Q. f See Note R.
 
 80 
 
 ' With a thousand virtues, that the 
 
 ' Fools who serve are always adding to the 
 
 ' Minion of their haughty lords ; they thought his 
 
 ' Merits could have no superfluous praise, the 
 
 ' Fulsome homage of a thousand slaves could 
 
 * Not repay his worth, but e'en the fairest 
 
 ' Of the gentle sex must own his sway, and 
 
 ' Call it honour to endure th' embraces 
 
 ' Of the cursed wretch, who drags upon their 
 
 ' Neck the galling chain of servitude — that 
 
 ' Cankers in the soul, and renders life a 
 
 ' Thing unworthy of the name. Could I then 
 
 ' Tamely stand, and see the object of my 
 
 ' Love unwilling bend to him ? to watch the 
 
 ' Motions of his face — to sink beneath his 
 
 ' Frown — or see a ray of pleasure crown his 
 
 ' Front with joy ? And tho' our hearts were not in 
 
 ' Unison conjoin'd, yet mine for her felt 
 
 ' All that heart can feel. Rather would 1 see 
 
 ' Her angel form a lifeless corse, and her 
 
 ' Fair bosom clotted with her crimson blood, 
 
 ' Than think her destined for another's arms." 
 
 " Algiers at length we gain'd, and enter'd midst 
 " The shouts of gaping crowds, that fill'd the air
 
 Ml 
 
 " With sounds more harsh tljaii all the clangor of 
 
 " The brazen tiunipet, or the cymbals clash, 
 
 " As from their throats, with bawling hoarse, they sent 
 
 " Their horrid yells, that ringing in my ears, 
 
 " Drove every thought away ; e'en vengeance to 
 
 " Disgust gave })lace. Slowly we travers'd thro' 
 
 " The narrow streets until the goal appear'd — 
 
 " But wherefore do I tell such trivial 
 
 " Things, but onward hasten to the tale of 
 
 " Blood without the foolish windings* of our 
 
 " Aged dames. Zalina and the Serdar 
 
 " Met — and I as slave the presentation 
 
 " Saw. He flew with open arms t' embrace the 
 
 ♦' Maid — whilst she with downcast look and falt'ring 
 
 " Step advanced. He folded in those eager 
 
 " Arms a form, tho' beauteous, yet devoid of 
 
 " Life — for ere his breast met her's — before his 
 
 " Tongue could call her love, the dagger of 
 
 " Zusht Murd was buried in her side — her soft 
 
 " Eye gently rais'd, struck horror to my soul ; 
 
 " The crimson stream that gush'd in torrents from 
 
 " The wound flowed upon my feet — and all my 
 
 * Sec Note S. 
 L
 
 82 
 
 " Senses fled. I'd slain the only angel 
 
 " Upon earth — the only object that I 
 
 " E'er could love, — no more was left me now but 
 
 " Death. I bared my breast to their sabres' point, 
 
 " And bade them stab. I prayed as for mercy 
 
 " That some one would strike, and free this wretched 
 
 " Soul from its earthly clay — its prison worse 
 
 " Than darkest den. Already was the sword 
 
 " Of Kouli rais'd, but ere it reached my heart, 
 
 " Mustapha interposed, and bade them drag 
 
 " Me to the dungeon, — there to wait until 
 
 " With cruelty refined, he should award 
 
 " Some punishment deserving such a crime. 
 
 " They dragged me forth, and twice three month.- 
 
 roll'd o'er 
 " Before the cheering rays of heaven illum'd 
 " My sight. That dreary time with slowest pace 
 " Stole on, and all the torments of the damn'd 
 " I felt ; for ever would the beauteous form 
 " Of her no more, around me hover in 
 " That black abode, and when my waning lamp 
 " For want of food expired, foul conscience' goad 
 " Dread fear, would then ap})al my soul, and drive 
 " Affi-ighted sleep far from my weary head.
 
 88 
 
 " In vain attem})t I'd try to close my eyes ; 
 
 " In vain I press'd my couch — tor sliouUI I chance 
 
 " To dose — (to sleep — I ne'er must call't) my frame 
 
 " Seem'd by a thousand tortures rack'd — and thro' 
 
 " My brain grim visions fled along, and danced 
 
 '♦ Across my sight — dark shadows mock'd me with 
 
 " Funereal pomp — tall headless trunks flock'd round 
 
 " Me, holding to my view their flcshless arms, 
 
 " Decay 'd and rotten — starting, I'd seem to 
 
 " Sink a thousand fathoms in a nether 
 
 " World, where serpents hiss'd and stretch'd their 
 
 horrid 
 " Jaws to seize me — now the gaping earth, wide 
 " Rent, huri'd forth aspiring flames that circled 
 " Me around. In vain I strove to fly, my 
 " Each attempt was fruitless to escape the 
 " Bursting fire — I sunk at every step ;" 
 
 " And then I'd wake, but 
 " Still the horrid phantoms of my brain 
 " Were there — my spirits droop'd, my heart beat full 
 " Against my breast, and from my brow large drops 
 " Of sweat were trickling down my face." 
 
 " I lov'd to see 
 * In my mind's eye' her figure linger near, 
 
 L 2 
 
 <(
 
 6i 
 
 84< 
 
 *' To see it silent stand, or slowly glide 
 
 ** Along — while her flowing vest disclosed her 
 
 *' Beauteous limbs- -more white, more pure than 
 
 those of 
 *' Heavenly birth." 
 
 " Once more they dragg'd me to the public view; 
 *' Once more the hated Kouli met my eye ; 
 *' Once more Mustapha's voice I heard — with words 
 *' More horrid than e'er Eblis spoke — exclaim, 
 *' ' The wretch impale !' One shout th' accursed mob 
 
 Sent forth, and all again was calm — as sweeps 
 " The wind thro' mountain caves with hurried blast, 
 *' Which ev'ry winding echoes with a tone 
 " Yet louder than the first, then dies upon 
 *' The ear with hollow distant moans. — My eyes 
 *' They bound, and horror shook my frame ; my hair 
 " Like bristles stood erect — the cold sweat 
 " From my quiv'ring skin pour'd out — and my soul 
 Seem'd flying hence. 'Twere better if it had, 
 For worse befel me far than death — they on 
 My brow the brand's detested mark afiixed 
 *' And drove me wretched to the world." 
 
 " E'en so 
 
 ii 
 
 a
 
 8.5 
 
 *' Zuslit Murd ! tliou'st lieurd my tale before, and now 
 
 " The hour of love is past — for ever fkd — 
 
 *' And nought of the passion left — save the sad 
 
 *' Remembrance of the moments spent in a 
 
 " Vain attempt to treasure up a futile 
 
 " Hope — to form a Heaven that vanish'd ere I 
 
 *' Savv't, — and found instead — a wish on which my 
 
 *' Happiness was built — on vengeance — as the 
 
 *' Flowret buds, is ripe, and falls devoid of 
 
 *' Scent and beauty, ne'er a charm for eye or 
 
 " Smell — so love, unto its acme hastens on — 
 
 " And reach'd — it fades. I lov'd but was not lov'd 
 
 " Again — her scornful look that spoke my claim 
 
 " Rejected by her heart, was madd'ning to 
 
 " My soul — but better far than he, who has 
 
 *' Received the perjured vows of one, who met 
 
 " His passion for awhile witli equal flame, 
 
 " And call'd to action all the latent fire 
 
 " That lurk'd within his breast — then fickle, base 
 
 *' She leaves him as a prey to hell, far wovae 
 
 " Than hell of bigots. Then what am I ! or 
 
 ** My sad lot to his ? I ne'er had hoped a 
 
 " Better fate, but he to the highest top 
 
 " Of a heavenly mount is raf»'d, and having
 
 86 
 
 " Known and felt a bliss, is headlong 
 
 " Hurl'd to a dread abyss — to misery, 
 
 " By one, who'd taught him to believe in her — 
 
 " To live in a woman's smile — false prop for 
 
 " Fools to lean on. Who would think a woman 
 
 " True ? — the false deceiver — ruin of this 
 
 " Lower world — destruction — all that lantruace 
 
 « Can depict of ill." 
 
 *********** 
 
 The shades of sleep came o'er Sigismund's eyes 
 And his soul sank oppress'd — dark visions, and 
 The brain's wild phantasies, terrific dreams 
 Broke o'er him — and his troubled thouohts were this- 
 The dread day was come — the day of judgment. 
 When all men should give account of what was 
 Past — their conduct — and their lives, mispent, or 
 Bless'd with deeds of goodness. When the sons 
 Of earthly clay, should stand before the pow'r 
 Eternal — to answer for their sins, and 
 Give account of all their crimes, the least of 
 Which should be exposed unto the searching 
 Eye of him who seeth all things, and from 
 Whom nought shall be hid. The day that all men 
 Fear'd, yet knew would be. The day that Atheists
 
 87 
 
 Would deny should conjc, yet dreaded in their scmiIs 
 The confinnjition of their doubts. 
 
 It was a day of horror — tlie black clouds 
 Gather'd in the sky and render'd all things 
 jjark — naught could be seen — and hearing was the 
 Only sense that mortals knew. The wild beasts 
 Ran howling from the woods — and rent the air 
 With yells more dreadful than e'er struck the ear. 
 Birds dropp'd lifeless on the ground — for terror 
 Took the pow'r of flight — men blindly groped their 
 Way, and fell — and rose to fall again. They 
 Called on their nearest friends ; sons sought the aid 
 Of fathers; wives on their husbands call'd, and 
 Sisters on their brothers ; but e'en the voice 
 That rush'd from their strangling throats, seem'd like the 
 Cry of hell, and demons — for 'twas no more 
 The speech of man — affright luul taken thence 
 Articulation, and they vainly tried 
 To utter thoughts — 'twas Babel come again. 
 They sunk upon their knees and would have pray'd — 
 But could not — the hour of prayer was past — no 
 Thought, save that of desolation, fill'd the 
 Breast — it struggled — hove with agitation. 
 Yet no sound of reason could come forth.
 
 88 
 
 Again the face of Heav'n was changed — the clouds, 
 The dark canopy that spread across the 
 Sky, became one sheet of fire — bursting and 
 Darting forth, with more than lightning's swiftness. 
 It struck the mountain's top, which started from 
 Its seat of ages — bounding forward o'er 
 The prostrate cities — and the hard rocks that 
 Had withstood the war of elements, were 
 Split — and crackling — crashing — burst into the 
 Waves that lav'd their feet. Trees, forests, woods, were 
 One continued blaze, and earth was melting. 
 The troubled sea shrunk back — the rising waves 
 Rolled boiling o'er the levell'd land — like those 
 Huge mountains that upon that spot had stood 
 Before, and swept away all bodies that 
 Had breath'd. The trumpet sounded, and its clang 
 With reiterated peals, clash'd thio' the 
 High concave — thro' the blazing vaults. The worlds. 
 The suns, and stars, that once had brightly shone 
 In the clear cerulean arch, shook from their 
 Places — dashing thro' the trackless space like 
 Blazing meteors — to one point converging — 
 Struck — and vanish'd into nothinii. 
 
 'Twas past — and all w as changed, nor a shadow, nor
 
 89 
 
 A vestige now reniain'd, to shew where tlie 
 
 Universe had been — 'twas now a wreck. All 
 
 The eternal space, o'er which no eye could reach 
 
 Was fill'd with airy souls. Millions, and more 
 
 Of number than the mind of man could think 
 
 Were there. They stood and nought upheld their feet. 
 
 And still they sunk not — for they secm'd as form'd 
 
 Of that same matter which surrounded them — 
 
 But yet their shape was each distinct. There was 
 
 A voice that sounded like the thunder of 
 
 The past world, and " / am he" it 
 
 Said. A glory 'round the place from whence it 
 
 Came was seen — but once — for the disembodied 
 
 Souls could look but once — so great the brightness. 
 
 Angels and ministers of grace in one 
 
 United voice, sang " Hallelujah" — and 
 
 Again were still. " Come here ye blessed of 
 
 " My choice unto the Heaven of Bliss — and ye 
 
 " Accursed sink to the fires of never-ending 
 
 " Hell." All stood aghast, when straight these spirits 
 
 Who before were one, in size, in colour, 
 
 And in form, became divided — part as 
 
 Bright as the sun liad been on a summer's 
 
 Day — the rest grew black, and tiieir faces wore 
 
 M
 
 90 
 
 The look of fiends. They yelled with fury, or 
 
 With dread — and a host of devils drove 
 
 Them on to Hell — to the place assigned them 
 
 By the great God. They look'd with anguish back 
 
 On what they'd lost — but they could not stop — a 
 
 Power invisible impell'd them forward 
 
 To the mouth of their last, their dread abode. 
 
 'Twas a dark abyss — from whence came forth a 
 
 Suffocating stench — and an eternal 
 
 Howl. None were allowed to stand upon the 
 
 Brink, for they were headlong dash'd to its dark . 
 
 Bosom — where they were hurled eternally. 
 
 They lost all light as they lower sank — and 
 
 Still they sank, for it had no bottom — and 
 
 Tho' they were bodyless, and form'd of air, 
 
 They felt the everlasting flames. He too 
 
 Was sinking — when his dream was broke. 
 
 The sun behind the western hills had set. 
 And the dark shades of night began to hide 
 The beauties of this nether world. The groves 
 Were silent, for the feathei'd tribe had sought 
 Their leafy nests — and all was still — save whtre 
 The shrill melodious notes of Philomel
 
 From the neighbouring brake were heard — the ev'ning 
 
 Hymn of Heavn's best chorister — or where the 
 
 Hoarse waves lash'd the tow'ring rocks, and the caves 
 
 Re-eclioed the low murmurs of the sea. 
 
 The light breeze wafted on its airy wing 
 
 Salubrious sweetness. The scorching rays of 
 
 Noon-day sun no longer darted on the 
 
 Weary Arab their oppressive heat — no 
 
 Lonirer did the sons of labour toil — the 
 
 Slave no longer fear'd the lash, for all had 
 
 Sunk into the forgetfulness of sleep, 
 
 Where cares are felt no more. The pamper'd sons of 
 
 wealth 
 Roll'd on their beds of down 'neath canopies 
 Of silk — whilst poverty and her meagre 
 Train lay cradled on the flinty rock, or 
 Some mayhap upon the cold hard ground — yet 
 Sleep upon his balmy pinions hover'd 
 'Round their prostrate heads with equal care. 
 
 Tho' the fiace of Heav'n was cloudless, yet the 
 Darkness thicken'd, and all objects faded 
 To the eye of man, the niountain's side, the 
 Barren cliffs, and the green foliage of the 
 Woods were all one undistinguish'd mass — dark, 
 
 M 2
 
 92 
 
 Colourless — and void. The plaintive carol 
 
 Of the Bulbul too had ceas'd, all living 
 
 Sounds were silent, all things, and all men were 
 
 At rest. Yet a boat was gliding past 
 
 Thy shores, Algiers !* In silent secrecy 
 
 Its lonely path was traced ; no splashing oars 
 
 Betray'd its route ; no voice suppress'd was heard ; 
 
 No whisper buzzing on the air, so deep 
 
 The myst'ry of its little crew. For there 
 
 Were none but two in that lone bark. 'Twas moor'd, 
 
 And out there sprang beneath the cover of 
 
 Their large black cloaks (which flowing to their heels 
 
 Conceal'd their Turkish vests) the Galiongees, 
 
 Who thus disguised were seeking by the shades 
 
 Of murky night, to gain the object of 
 
 Some hidden deed that would not bear the light 
 
 Of day. 
 
 Their lonely way, like troubled ghosts. 
 Thro' narrow, dark, and empty streets they took, 
 Evading all that could disturb their path. 
 And as the low wind whistling swept along. 
 They'd start, and folding tighter round their cloaks, 
 
 * See Note T.
 
 93 
 
 With cautious eye observe, if any save 
 
 Tlieniselves were there. They pass'd the moulii'ring 
 
 walls 
 Of a Turkish Mosque — and the night bird's scream — 
 The falling stones, that years revolving long 
 Had crumbled into dust — and the rustling 
 Of the ivy leaves — would make them tremble 
 Like the mountain pine when tempests roar, and 
 Thunders shake the earth — so forcible is 
 Conscience to the guilty mind. The marble 
 Monuments placed o'er the sleeping dead, would — 
 Starting on their unexpecting sight — with 
 Quicker beat their vile hearts cause to throb. And 
 They before the murd'ring gun would boldly 
 Rush — would throw their bodies in the way of 
 Death, undaunted, and unfear'd — but now their 
 Shadow, (if a moon had been to throw a 
 Shadow on the earth) could make them stand and 
 Shake, like the veriest cow'rd that ever 
 Drew his breath. 
 
 Onward — they pass'd each wall, each tow'r, each 
 house, 
 As silent as the last lone grave. No sound 
 Was heard — save what the conscience rais'd within
 
 94 
 
 The breast. The Dey's rich palace, with its high 
 
 And lofty minarets — whose crescents, seen 
 
 But dimly, or not seen at all, approach 
 
 And stretcheth forth its wings — a final goal, 
 
 A scene of vengeance, and a bed of death — 
 
 Its dismal walls of dusky grey — how changed ! 
 
 Since when the sun in all his glory shone 
 
 And gilt its sides. When the bustling crowds that 
 
 Form'd the pomp and pageantry of the Dey's 
 
 Grand suite, were rushing here and there, and the 
 
 Sound of martial music, and the clash of 
 
 Arms in mimic war were heard, when the pride 
 
 Of man did show itself in those its vain 
 
 And little antics that he uses in the 
 
 The day of pow'r — when he vaunts advantage 
 
 O'er his brother worm, and struts elate with 
 
 All the fond superiority of 
 
 Thought — despising those whom he believes as 
 
 'Neath himself. 'Tis now the silent tomb 
 
 Of living death — of mortals buried in 
 
 The grave of sleep ; so like is slumber to 
 
 The end of life. The senses — feelini^s — all 
 
 Are gone, and the unfetter'd soul alone 
 
 Is free — which ranges thro' the heav'n, the bliss
 
 95 
 
 Of worlds ideal— and the imagery 
 
 Of thought, where gay tantastic visions flit 
 
 Along on speedy wing — where vice — where guilt 
 
 Can happiness attain without a sting 
 
 To blight — without a dread to curse the joy 
 
 They feel. 
 
 The spacious halls, the winding corridors 
 Are past ; where late resounded mirth and glee, 
 Where late the banquet lay — the laugh — the joke 
 And wit was heard — but now no more. And here 
 The painted roofs, the cushion'd floors, the cool 
 Refreshing fountains spout their limpid streams, 
 And all the luxury of wealth — of pow'r 
 Spread forth their tempting charms in vain. " Soft slri:/)y" 
 The soothing balm of weary eyes, invites 
 To greater pleasures far than these. But sleep 
 Will fail to come, to some it will refuse 
 Its potent charms, and sought for flies, nor gold. 
 Or riches, can one moment buy of that 
 Lethaian draught — of sleep, that buries in 
 Oblivion all the cares, the sorrows, of 
 Poor helpless man. 
 
 A lamp its trem'lous light diffused around. 
 And shed its beams upon the walls, the roots
 
 96 
 
 The tessalated floors, the gilded couch — 
 
 And show'd where one sleeping centinel was 
 
 Laid. But 'twas a sleep more chill than death, more 
 
 Pleavy than the grave, the starting eye, the 
 
 Bloated face, the swollen lip, the tongue hard 
 
 Press'd between the teeth, the heart just beating, 
 
 And the gasping breath, declare the more than 
 
 Sleep — the torpor of a poison'd slave. The 
 
 Pirate even stood transfix'd with dread ; his 
 
 Foot denied to move — his hand to draw the 
 
 Treasured poignard from its sheath, and seek the 
 
 Wish'd revenge. Not so Zusht Murd ; he was not 
 
 Frighten'd by the " bug-bear death" — he did not 
 
 Halt to see the sufF'rings that himself had 
 
 Caus'd, but hasten'd on, and backward drew the 
 
 Silken curtain of Mustapha's bed. There 
 
 Was but one moment between that act and 
 
 Death. 'Twas a moment big with fate — 'twas the 
 
 Crisis of an age of weal or woe. His 
 
 Arm was rais'd to strike the final stroke, that 
 
 Would annihilate his dreaded foe, that 
 
 Would divide the soul astherial from 
 
 Its prison form'd of earth — would separate 
 
 The heavenly from the mortal part, and
 
 97 
 
 Sweep from recollection — lite — this all oi" 
 Man — wipe — as from a slate some ill-spelt word, 
 This only knowledge of our state, or here. 
 Or elsewhere — in the world to come — whether 
 
 Of truth or falsehood — of fancy, or of 
 
 Ere his fated arm descends, a sabre 
 Clove his skull, and down he roll'd a lifeless 
 Bloody corse. His hand instinctive held the 
 Weapon of his ire, it grasp'd more firmly 
 Than in life, so strong his hate, so eager 
 Was his wish. Atalma too, what he, who 
 Trod so softly, and so keenly press'd the 
 Way that led to the consummation of 
 His hopes — his prayers — (if e'er he pray'd) why does- 
 He falter in the deed ? Another task 
 Is found him than to coolly stab a friend 
 Unarmed — a sleeping helpless friend. There is 
 An arm opposed to his, a sword has met 
 His own — Mustapha wields it too. " Is this," 
 He cried, " the action that should all thy debt 
 " Repay ? Then be thy villainy upon 
 " Thine own danm'd head — go seek thy parent, Hell ! 
 " And howl amongst the fiends !" They fight— the 
 clash, 
 
 N
 
 98 
 
 The din, Atalma's curses, and the lamp's 
 
 Lone flittering blaze increased the horrors of 
 
 The dreadful hour — yet still they fought, and thrice 
 
 Was the Pirate wounded, when he stagg'ring, 
 
 Reeling, licked the dust, and blasted Heaven. 
 
 ********** 
 
 " Oh, hide me 'neath the mountain's weight, in tht' 
 ' Deepest pit of darkness — a thousand miles 
 ' Below the surface of this wretched earth — -y 
 
 ' Under the rocks that have stood whole ages. 
 ' Oh drag me from this gulf on which I stand, 
 ' On which I sink — from dread eternity— rr^. 
 ' The black waves of madness- — the horrors of 
 ' The past — the fears of the time to come are ; i i 
 
 ' Hov'ring round me — my brain whirls — I sink — 
 ' I sink — thou didst not see me plunge into 
 * His breast the poison'd dart — thou didst not hear 
 ' His groan of agony — he died ! — he died ! 
 ' Down — down to Hell, and bring a bowl of flames, 
 ' That I may drink the liquid fire and die — 
 ' But I must live a thousand ages and 
 ' A thousand more — I'll mount the whirlwind and 
 ' Outstrip the hand of death — I will not die — 
 ' O God ! I dare not die. 'Tis done — he
 
 99 
 
 " Struggles — hush ! he breathes his last — the blow 
 
 was 
 " Guided well." Thus did he rave in maniac 
 Madness, and he had no thought of Heav'n. 
 He roll'd his lightless eyes in dark despair — 
 He rais'd his feeble hand in vain — it sunk. 
 In agony he gnash'd his teeth, whilst from 
 His mouth the foam of lunacy came forth, 
 And all his cry was Hell ! — in fancy he 
 Would rush to the place of fiends, and in 
 His outstretch'd arms embrace the rebel host. 
 At length he sunk with nature's last effort. 
 And seem'd approaching to the final goal — 
 He groan'd — he blasphem'd God — and breathed no 
 
 more. 
 
 That room where murder was 
 
 Designed, is never enter'd by the foot 
 Of Moor or Turk. No Islamite frequents 
 The spot, but drear and dark it is — yet still 
 There is seen a gleam — a dark blue blaze, that thro' 
 The air its sickly paleness casts ; and oft 
 When the tempests roar, and the hoarse winds blow, 
 Loud groans are heard, and sighs, the din of arms — 
 
 2 N
 
 100 
 
 Of sabres clashing as in deadly strife, 
 
 But nought save fancy can it be — the thoughts 
 
 Of heated brains — imagination, wrought 
 
 To the very brink of madness, such as 
 
 Fools and children feel when grand-dames tell their 
 
 Tales o'er winter fires. 
 
 Upon a rock far jutting in the sea 
 The headless corse of a bloody Pirate 
 Hangs, who sought the life of a Moorish Dey, 
 And wish'd to drag the loved Sultana to 
 His arms. But a monk — a Christian priest — had 
 In the land of infidels and slaves that 
 Pirate watch'd, and every evil plot 
 Betray'd and baflfled. When the waves by 
 The rough winds rous'd, dash to and fro, and the 
 Light clouds of foam rise o'er that rocky couch — 
 When the body's swinging in the air, and 
 The rustling irons clank upon the ear — 
 When the darkness of night shuts IVom the eye 
 Of man each outward vision, each object 
 Palpable to sight alone — what fearless 
 Galiongee in his bark dare pass the stone 
 Unhallow'd ? Or when the sun's light rays are
 
 101 
 
 Playing on the placid surface of the 
 Deep — what little skiff is seen to ply its 
 Oars in wayward bent to that fearful place ? 
 There's none goes there — save the vulture on its 
 Eager wing — or some hungry dog that scents 
 The rotting form. 
 
 THE END.
 
 0ottS.
 
 St(2)'ir!3S. 
 
 Note A, Page 30. 
 MTid listening to the BvibuTs notes. 
 
 " Bulbul — Nightingale : he is called in the Persian, Hazurdasi- 
 taun, or the bird of the thousand songs. It is said when he sees 
 any one pull a rose from a tree he cries." 
 
 Ouzeley's Oriental Collections. 
 
 Note B, Page 31. 
 .for they were joined in Hymen^s bands. 
 
 " The author is not at liberty to state how it wai possible for a 
 Christian and a Mahummedan to be united in the bands of wed- 
 lock, or rather, how they could live happily ; such was, however, 
 the fact, and one fact is worth a thousand arguments ; though it 
 is most clear he could prove that more discordant causes do often 
 produce even harmonious effects, and that without much philo- 
 sophizing." Gog Magog Hall. 
 
 o
 
 106 
 
 Note C, Page 38. 
 
 yo dread Simoom from 
 
 Afric*s scorching desarts taints the air. 
 
 " Simooui. — A wind or haze was observed by Mr Bruce in the 
 course of his travels to discover the soiu"ce of the Nile, which is 
 supposed to be in some respects analogous to the Sii'occo. It was 
 called by him the Simoom ; and from its effect upon the lungs, we 
 can entertain but little doubt that it consists chiefly of carbonic 
 acid gas, in a very dense state, and perhaps mixed with some other 
 noxious exhalations." Nicholson's Encyclopedia. 
 
 " The xVrabs call it Semoum, or poison, and the Turks Sham- 
 yela, or winds of SjTia, from whence is formed the Sameyel Winds." 
 
 VoLNEY. 
 
 Note D, Page 3S. 
 ..There were no burning sands. 
 
 " The sand-hills have in general the shape of waves, and consist 
 in particles of red sand, so light as to be hardly palpable, which, 
 when scattered by the violent N. W. winds that prevail through- 
 out the summer months, form a moving cloud, which often proves 
 alike destructive to animal and to vegetable life." 
 
 Malcolm's Persia. 
 
 Note E, Page 46. 
 
 On the lofty turrets that rise o*er the 
 Haram's walls. 
 
 " Every house, great and small, is divided into two distinct 
 parts, which only join together by a narrow passage. The first
 
 107 
 
 house has a large court before it, and open galleries all around it, 
 which is to me a thing very agreeable. This galicTV leads to all the 
 chambers, which are commonly large, and with two rows of win- 
 dows, the first being of painted glass : they seldom build above 
 two stories, each of which has galleries. This is the house belong- 
 ing to the lord, and the adjoining one is called the Haram, that 
 is, the ladies' apartments (for the name of Seraglio is peculiar to 
 the Grand Seignior) : it has also a gallery runninix round it towards 
 the garden, to which all the windows are turned, and the same 
 number of chambers as the other, but more gay and splendid both 
 in painting and furniture." Lady M. W. Montagite. 
 
 Note F, Pagk 47- 
 mtd " the Gong's 
 
 Deep swell" 
 
 " Gon" — a musical instrument used in China, is made of a 
 metal composed of silver, lead, and copper, and its shape is a sort 
 of circular concave. The tone is loud, harsh, and clanging. It is 
 never introduced except on occasion of giving a national cast to 
 the music in which it is employed, or to awaken, surprise, and 
 rouse the attention of the company." 
 
 Nicholson's Encyclopedia. 
 
 Note G, Page 59. 
 
 she found him lying on 
 
 A Musnud stretched— 
 
 Musnud — a cushioned seat- 
 
 O 2
 
 108 
 
 Note H, Page 60. 
 
 More like the well carved statue that delights 
 The world- 
 
 I was, a few weeks after writing the above, perusing a volume 
 of Travels, in which was the following line marked as a quotation : 
 
 " The bending statue that enchants the world," 
 
 Alluding, no doubt, as well as myself, to the Venus de Medicis. 
 i was more than once on the point of erasing the line, for fear of 
 suffering under the imputation of plagiarism ; but at last, however, 
 induced to risk it after this explanation. 
 
 Note 1, Page 63. 
 The Kiosk then they left. 
 
 *' In the midst of the garden is the Kiosk, that is, a large room 
 commonly beautified with a fine fountain in the midst of it. It is 
 raised nine or ten steps, and enclosed with gilded lattices, round 
 which vines, jessamines, and honey-suckles, make a sort of green 
 wall." Lady M. W. Montague. 
 
 Note J, Page 67. 
 
 , More damn'dthan Glndes that feast upon 
 
 The rotten corses of the slain. 
 
 " Ghule — a demon of the woods, or monster that devours car- 
 cases." OnzELEv's Objental Collections.
 
 109 
 
 Note K, Page 67- 
 
 Or seek themselves Mahummed's Paradise 
 
 Of joys. 
 
 It is an universal opinion amongst the true believers, that those 
 who die in battle are immediately translated to Heaven. 
 
 Note L, Page 69. 
 From a nymph more fair than maid of Yezd. 
 
 " Certainly the women of Yezd are the handsomest women in 
 Persia. The proverb is, that to live happy a man must have a 
 wife of Yezd, eat bread of Yezderas, and drink the wine of Shi- 
 rauz." Tavernier. 
 
 Note M, Page 70. 
 
 They found 
 
 The vessel laden vnth the richest vnnes 
 That Shirauz e'er produced. 
 
 " The learned Schikard, in the introduction to his Tarik or 
 Chronicle, celebrates the roses of Shirauz : and the ingenious 
 Kempfer ranks the wine of that delightful soil amongst the finest 
 in the world." Ouzeley's Persian Miscellanies. 
 
 Note N, Page 70. 
 
 and Ottargul 
 
 More precious than the golden mines. 
 
 " So fond are the luxurious Persians of the rose's delightful 
 odour, that they not only sprinkle most profusely in their apart-
 
 lip 
 
 ments, the water distilled from its leaves, but having prepared u 
 with cinnamon and sugar, they. infuse it with their coiFee, which 
 they drink. The scrapings of Sandal wood are often added in the 
 distillation to the leaves of this flower ; but the pure essential oil 
 or thick substance, which they call Ottargul, or Essence of Roses, 
 is more precious than gold." 
 
 Ouzeley's Persian Miscellanies. 
 
 Note O, Page 75. 
 
 Aiid maids more beauteous tJian 
 
 The Chikil Nymphs, 
 
 Sadi mentions the lovely njTuphs of Chikil. The name of a 
 place of Turkistan. 
 
 Note P, Page 75. 
 
 and bounded o^er the 
 
 Desart like the Samei/ePs T)ldst'. 
 
 " But during their summer, all along the coasts of the Persian 
 Gulph a very dangerou'S wind prevails, which the natives call the 
 Sameyel, still more dreadful and burning than that of Egypt, and 
 attended with instant and fatal eifccts. This terrible blast, which 
 was perhaps the pestilence of the ancients, instantly kills all those 
 that it involves in its passage. What its malignity consists in none 
 can tell, as none have ever survived its effects to give information. 
 It frequently, as I am told, assumes a visible form, and darts in a 
 kind of bluish vapour along the surface of the country." 
 
 Goldsmith's Natural History. 
 Considering the Sameyel analogous to the Simoom of Mr Bruce, 
 and indeed using it in that sense in the above line, I shall here 
 "give his account of that " terrible blast."
 
 Ill 
 
 " I saw," says he, " from the S. E. a haze come in colour like 
 tlie piirplc part of the rainbow, but not so compressed or thick. 
 It (Jill not occupy twenty yards in breadth, and was about twelve 
 feet hi-^h from the ground. It was a kind of blush upon the air 
 and it moved very rapidly, for I scarce could turn to fall upon the 
 ground with my head to the N. when I felt the heat of its current 
 plainly upon my face : we alllay flat on the ground as if dead, till 
 Idris (the guide) told us it was blown over. The meteor or pur- 
 ple haze which I saw, was indeed past, but the hght air that still 
 blew, was of such heat as to threaten suffocation." Bruce. 
 
 Note Q, Page 79. 
 
 TV/// .spirit now enjoys the prnphefs 
 
 Presence, and thy breath is Musk. 
 
 " Of musk, camphor, ambergrise, and similar fragrant sub- 
 stances, the Persians and many Arabians believe Angels to be 
 formed, and other creatures endowed with uncommon purity of 
 nature; thus the poets compliment their mistresses on the de- 
 lightful odours which they diffuse ; the aerial beings called Peries 
 are supposed to exist on perfumes alone ; and even of Paradise, 
 celestial fragrance is among the chief delights. The wine which 
 the faithful are there to be indulged with, is scaled with Musk, 
 and some authors affirm, that should the lovely Houries suffer but 
 one drop of their ambrosial spittle to fall upon this earth, no hu- 
 man sense could bear the exquisite poignancy of its perfume." 
 
 Ouzeley's Persian Miscellanies. 
 
 Note R, Page 79. 
 
 Zalina — was the destined biide 
 
 Of Kouli, serdar to the Hey. 
 
 Scrdar — a military chief.
 
 112 
 
 Note S, Pagk 81. 
 
 Without the foolish windings of our 
 
 Aged dames. 
 
 " Longa est injuria, longae 
 
 Ambages ; sed sumnia sequar fastigia rerum." 
 
 Virgil. iENEiD. 1. 
 
 Note T, Page 92, 
 
 • a"*. 
 
 ^'..jt^*.....Yet a boat was gliding past 
 Thy shores, Algiers. 
 
 " a crimson banner play'd 
 
 Above thy rampant porte, Belgrade !" 
 
 CzERNEy Georgi. 
 
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