THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 Btlbet»trtr> 
 
 BARON KOLFF, 
 
 &c. 
 
 BY THOMAS EAGLES, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 " MOUNTAIN MELODIES," &c. 
 
 LONDON : 
 WHITTAKER & CO., AVE MARIA LANE. 
 
 I MDCCCXLl"~|
 
 PR 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Pagu 
 
 RELVEDDER ...Canto 1 1 
 
 II 38 
 
 III 78 
 
 IV 118 
 
 BARON KOLFF.. Canto 1 149 
 
 II 166 
 
 III 173 
 
 IV 189 
 
 SONNET— EVENING 201 
 
 WHEN THE DEVV^S ARE FALLING 202 
 
 SONNET— THE DAISY 205 
 
 EDGAR 206 
 
 MIDNIGHT 209 
 
 THE EXILE 211 
 
 ^NG 214 
 
 'TH YON SHADOWY CYPRESS TREES 216 
 
 "T ASH, SO OLD AND PALE 218 
 
 •G 221 
 
 AN_ 'HE GLITTERING THRONG 222 
 
 ARMINA— L 225 
 
 23(5 
 
 FAREWELL 243 
 
 n r " <r>, o ,r; o
 
 RELVEDDER.
 
 RELVEDDER. 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 I. 
 
 Whehk rolling billows lasli the barren shore, 
 
 And rocks on rocks in gloomy grandeur rise. 
 Where humid clouds their wat'ry burdens pour, 
 
 And wildly journey through the dismal skies, 
 Where thunders roar and sheeted lightnings fly, 
 
 And howling Boreas winds his deafening horn, 
 A man''s oft seen in sadness passing by, 
 
 Casting on all an eye of bitter scorn 
 As slowly Avand'ring on regardless of the storm. 
 
 II. 
 With eyes cast down and tott'ring careless pace, 
 
 He holds his course along the line of sand, 
 O'er whose smooth breast the restless waters race, 
 
 And leap and curl in foaming circles grand ; 
 
 B
 
 2 RELVEDDER. - canto i. 
 
 Then mounts the craggy cliff's tall spireing height, 
 
 And 'neath a lonely fir he takes his seat, 
 And vacant gazes on the billows bright 
 
 Which underneath in frightful roarings break, 
 And madly onward press with fury up the steep. 
 
 III. 
 At times his eye with anger flashes fierce ; 
 
 His hands are clench'd, convulsions heave his frame : 
 He draws his dirk as if about to pierce 
 
 His heart, and close his wretched, mortal reign : 
 His teeth are set — the starting sweat-drops roll, 
 
 And chase each other doAvn his wrinkl'd brow. 
 Corroding grief seems wrappVl around his soul — 
 
 Some dire calamity ! — some dreadful blow 
 Hath burst full o'er his head its heavy weight of woe ! — 
 
 IV. 
 
 Anon, his anger seemeth to subside, 
 
 And from his eye starts forth the shining tear ; 
 He casts his gaze around the prospect wide 
 
 As if in search of something to him dear. 
 Callous as rock, on which he heedless sits. 
 
 For hours his sight will scan the distant waves ; 
 Fearless around the timid sea-bird flits ; 
 
 Huge billows thunder in the hollow caves ; 
 Yet moves he not the while, tho' wrathful tempest raves.
 
 CANTO I. RELVEDDER. 3 
 
 V. 
 
 Why braves he thus the lashing tempest's might ? 
 
 Why court the storm like barren ocean rock ? 
 Why (loth he strain his anxious, steadfast sight 
 
 Far o'er the waves which in the rude wind rock ? 
 Why leave the haunts of men for sterile shore ? 
 
 Why rave at midnight to the heedless moon ? 
 Why court the elements' discordant roar, 
 
 And fly sweet songs and music's gladd''ning tunc ? 
 'Tis strange ^tis strange I trow ! but thou wilt know full soon. 
 
 VI. 
 
 He once was happy — peace upon him beam'd ; 
 
 Delight and joy their airy forms entwin'd 
 Around his heart — To him this world oft seem'd 
 
 A paradise in which he lay enshrinM. 
 But still at times a discontent would creep 
 
 Within his mind, and blight his hours of joy : 
 lie long'd to visit climes beyond the deep. 
 
 What blesseth man, he oft was heard to sigh, 
 Is not what they possess, but that which they enjoy. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Upon a coast, secluded, wild and lone, 
 
 Enclos'd with woods, and moors of mountain heath, 
 jWhere ocean's deep and melancholy moan 
 
 Re-echoed wildly in the caves beneath.
 
 RELVEDDER. 
 
 CANTO 1. 
 
 This wretched man's vast mansion once was seen, 
 
 In splendour rising through the forest trees, 
 Which dcck"d tlie spacious, sliining, parks of green 
 Wliich gently sloped into the crystal seas ; 
 The blushing flow'rets danc'd and nodded to the breeze. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 He had a wife — a beauteous, loving wife — 
 
 A being fraught with virtue — good and kind — 
 He loved her dearer than the blood of life — 
 
 'Tis rarely men such excellency find. 
 Oh, he adored her ! — She was sweeter far 
 
 Than morning's breath, or even's gentle beam ! 
 Lovely and pure as modest gleaming star 
 
 Declining slowly o'er the western stream, 
 Shedding its silver light upon the wavelet green ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 His happy lot a daughter also blest ; 
 
 A lovely flow'ret delicate and fair ; 
 The burnish'd beams that deck'd the glowing west 
 
 Were not more brilliant than her golden hair ; 
 Her brow outvied the pole's eternal snows ; 
 
 Her cheeks' rich tint excell'd the morning's glow ; 
 Her blush outshone the dew-bespangl'd rose 
 
 That pendent hung above the streamlet's flow, 
 Dipping its emerald leaves into the ripple low.
 
 CANTO I. RELVEDDER. 
 
 X. 
 
 But still a gloominess would sometimes creep 
 
 Within his soul, and he would wander forth, 
 And launch his skiff into the dark blue deep, 
 
 In whose clear breast reflected was the north, 
 With all its meteors, wonderful and grand. 
 
 That dance in lustre through the midnight sky. 
 Disclosing to the view the distant land, 
 
 As 'thwart the heavens fantasticlly they fly, 
 Whilst o'er the billow tops the ocean breezes sigh. 
 
 XL 
 
 And then lieM rest upon the sparkling wave, 
 
 In pond'ring mood, with eye-balls upward cast, 
 And list for hours the limpid water lave 
 
 As to the shore it onward hurried fast. 
 And gaze upon the full round gleaming moon. 
 
 In silver vesture rising from the sea, 
 Emerging slowly from the ocean's womb, 
 
 In soul-endearing, beauteous purity. 
 Illuming night's dark mass with rays of modesty. 
 
 XII. 
 
 He then would think of those he loved so dear — 
 His doting wife, and happy lovely child : 
 
 Forebodings dire and images appear. 
 
 And break the spell which had his soul beguiled.
 
 RELVEDDER. canto i. 
 
 For those we love are often soonest lost ; 
 
 Pale death steals in — calamities draw near ; 
 The sweetest flow'rs first wither with the frost ; 
 
 Our souls are robb'd of all we held most dear. 
 And naught is left but grief, and sorrow's bitter tear. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Now on this coast a band of smugglers kept 
 
 Their secret hold, deep hid from mortal gaze ; 
 'Neath hanging rocks o'er which the waters leapt, 
 
 Dark as the night — through which appear'd no rays 
 Of cheering sun-beam, or night's gentle queen ; 
 
 Naught save the flicker of the feeble lamp 
 Casting its gleam the jutting crags between, 
 
 And shining faintly through the caverns damp, 
 Like that deceitful light oft seen within the swamp. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 And they were men of natures bold and brave — 
 
 Despising all controul — reckless and free— 
 Wild as the wind — impetuous as the wave — 
 
 Their lives pass\l on in mirth and jollity. 
 Gaily their skiff was often seen to glide 
 
 Through the blue sea (lit by the moons-beams wan) 
 At midnight hour before the sweeping tide, 
 
 Whilst the light sails the ocean zephyrs fan, 
 And curl'd the rippling wave thro' which they gaily ran.
 
 CANTO I. RKLVEDDER. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Relvedder oft would meet them on the shore — 
 
 He then was young, romantic was his mind ; 
 He iov'd to hear the dipping of their oar, 
 
 And see their light sails swelling in the wind. 
 He sanction'd not their lawless trade — yet he 
 
 Would oft repair unto their lonely hold ; 
 He lik'd their bearing — generous and free ; 
 
 And Iov'd to hear their tales of wonder told — 
 Legends of sultry lauds, and icy regions cold. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 He Iov'd to hear these men their tales relate ; 
 
 They well accorded with his gloomy soul. 
 For hours within their darksome cave he'd wait 
 
 For their return, when tempest loud did howl ; 
 When thunders broke and shook the firm-set rocks. 
 
 And lurid flames, so pallid, light and blue. 
 Would scare the sea-birds from the deep in flocks, 
 
 And wildly fly the dreary caverns through. 
 Whilst o'er the pointed cliflTs the wild waves madly flew, 
 
 XVII. 
 
 They knew him rich, and were most pleased to see 
 He look'd on them with no malicious eye : 
 
 He oft beheld them when they went to sea 
 At twilight hour beneath stcllif'rous sky.
 
 8 RELVEDDER. < anto i. 
 
 Oh ! lovely is it on a night serene, 
 
 When all is still save billows' gurgling sound, 
 To pace the deck and mark the wavelet green 
 Glide sweetly by with bosom smooth and round, 
 And past the noble ship in joyful clusters bound ! 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 To hear the light sails lambent in the breeze, 
 
 Echoing sweetly o'er the distant shore ; 
 To mark the wake the gliding vessel leaves, 
 . Like gleaming citrine mix'd Avith shining ore ; 
 To hear the sailors chant their merry song, 
 
 And list the rigging rustling in the wind — 
 What blissful thoughts unto the bosom throng ! 
 
 How full the heart ! — how frauQ[ht with feelinsfskind ! 
 Oh ! what sensations sweet then fill the teeming mind. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 To mark the moon-beams tremble on the stream, 
 
 And see the rays illume the sable cloud 
 O'er which the stars shoot forth their twinkling gleam, 
 
 Then disappear behind the dusky shroud ; 
 And mark the far-receding waves that play 
 
 In misty distance through the dusky night. 
 Like balls of crystal rolling on their way, 
 
 So pure they seem, so beauteous, and so bright, 
 As joyfully they sport beneath the silver light.
 
 CANTO I. RELVEDDER. 9 
 
 XX. 
 
 It came to pass upon one dreadful morn, 
 
 (When howling Boreas swept across the sky, 
 And hills of water furiously were borne 
 
 With rush impetuous o'er the black rocks high) 
 A noble vessel bending 'neath the blast 
 
 Was seen to roll her heavy form along. 
 Her sails were rent and fluttered round the mast 
 
 As hard she labour'd lashing seas among. 
 Whilst through the dismal sky the thunder rattled long. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 And anxious men gazed o'er the creeking side. 
 
 Straining their sight across the boiling deep ; 
 Pallid with fear they eyed the billows ride. 
 
 And o'er their bark in madd'ning fury leap. 
 And there were women clinging to the shroud, 
 
 And, as the sea upon the broadside broke, 
 Their piercing screams re-echoed long and loud. 
 
 Surrounding cliffs in answering echoes spoke. 
 Then faintly died away, then suddenly awoke. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 The wind grew stronger — fiercer beat the storm — 
 Peal followed peal, and flash succeeded flash ; 
 
 The bending masts were from their stations torn, 
 And overboard did headlong rattling crash :
 
 10 RELVEDDER. canto i. 
 
 Wild shrieks and curses mingled with the roar 
 Of rushing waters, dreadful to the ear ! 
 
 The boding sea-bird round about did soar — 
 
 'Twas known to all that death was hov'ring near- — 
 The bravest were unnerv'd, their hearts beat quick with fear. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 The smugglers saw her from their secret hold, 
 
 And from the first the oldest seaman said, 
 A few short hours and those warm hearts will cold 
 
 Be at the bottom of the ocean bed ! 
 They tried, but all in vain, to lend her aid ; 
 
 They launch'd their boat, and battled with the sea — 
 Alas ! alas ! upon the rock she''s laid. 
 
 Whilst through the storm loud cries of misery 
 Pierce the fierce tempest\s roar — drear moans of agony ! 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 The rolling carry flew athwart the sky, 
 
 Thick showers of hail rode on the sweeping blast ; 
 The smugglers vainly at the strong oars ply. 
 
 Again, again, they"'re ""mongst the breakers cast. 
 Anon they strive to stem the furious rush 
 
 Of bursting billows — heedlessly they strive — 
 With strong excitement their hard features flush, 
 
 As from the vessel helplessly they drive. 
 " By heav'n all hope is lost ! we cannot save their lives I"
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 RELVEDDER. 11 
 
 XXV. 
 
 And when on board they saw the boat depart, 
 
 And make its way despairing to the shore, 
 Oh ! what deep horror strnck each wretched heart ! 
 
 What groans, and sighs, and orisons they pour ! 
 Oh ! tlien what thoughts crept thro' their teeming mind, 
 
 Of anxious friends, who waited their return, 
 Fond lovers, sisters, doting mothers kind ! — 
 
 The god nubiferous did their anguish spurn, 
 And o'er their helpless heads blew loud his awful horn. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 The smugglers paced the bleak and sterile beach, 
 
 In hopes that they might some assistance give ; 
 They threw out ropes — alas ! they could not reach 
 
 The heavy-beating wreck — No boat could live 
 In such a surge — Drear night was closing fast ; 
 
 And still the storm had no abatement made. 
 At times they saw poor sufF'ring sailors cast 
 
 O'er the dark side — then sink beneath the shade 
 Of the huge dismal rock on which the vessel laid. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 The night had closed — a dreadful night to sec ; 
 
 And still could they discern, by liglitning's flash. 
 The vessel heaving — rolling helplessly 
 . Upon the rocks, and hear the awful crash
 
 13 RELVEDDER. canto i. 
 
 As down she fell upon their pointed head 
 
 In frightful beatings, heavy, dull and loud ; 
 
 Whilst o'er her bow the smoth'ring billows sped, 
 And thunder rattled through the sable cloud. 
 And flames of hissing fire shot thro' night's dusky shroud. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 RiiLVEDDER sat within his spacious hall, 
 
 Listing the storm that bellow'd loud with ire ; 
 He heard the rain in streaming torrents fall, 
 
 The thunder's voice, and saw the lightning's fire. 
 He thought of those compelFd to track the sea. 
 
 And journey o"'er the waste of waters great — 
 His soul o'erflow'd with tender sympathy — 
 
 " What hearts are saddcn'd, and whatfondfriends weep. 
 For those who leave their homes to court the faithless deep. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Deceitful element ! o'er thy waters skim 
 
 The light refreshing breeze — Oh ! beauteous scene ! 
 Thy playful wavelets with their silver rim 
 
 Sailing so sweetly o'er wide beds of green — 
 Thy sparkling bosom and thy gurgling note ; 
 
 The shining gems that gleam the rocks between ; 
 The snowy birds that o'er thy surface float ; 
 
 The wide blue sky, the sun's delighting beam. 
 Lure the glad heart away, and tempt us to the stream.
 
 CANTO I. RELVEDDER. I3 
 
 XXX. 
 
 But when once there, how soon the aspects change ! 
 
 The sun retires, the glowing beams depart : 
 Huge heavy clouds around the concave range, 
 
 And from repose tlie rising billows start : 
 Strong gusts of wind at intervals burst forth. 
 
 And distant bowlings speak the coming storms ; 
 A ray of light is resting in the north ; 
 
 The sky assumes grotesque, fantastic forms ; 
 The watchful sailors quake, their hearts beat with alarms. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 And so oft end the fairest thoughts of earth — 
 
 The brilliant hopes — the visions sweet with joy — 
 They're but the harbingers of soitow's birth, 
 
 The bright forerunners of the ancjuish'd siffh. 
 The clearest morn precedes the blackest day ; 
 
 The purest joys are followed by despair; 
 The fondest hopes that round our fancies play 
 
 Leave naught behind but heart-corroding care ; 
 A dismal prospect drear for what seem'd bright and fair!" 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Thus mused Relvedder — when his ear was caught 
 By a faint groan, that spoke distress at hand ; 
 
 He wonder'd much — Again it came — He thought 
 It might be some one from the smuggler band ;
 
 14 RELVEDDER. < anto i. 
 
 For no one else, he knew, resided near ; 
 
 .The coast was barren — habitations few — 
 Again it came, and did so close appear, 
 
 That swiftly through the spacious hall he flew. 
 And from the heavy lochs the pond'rous bolts be drew. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 The massy door he quickly open'd wide, 
 
 And strain'd his sight into the gloom without ; 
 The wild wind roar'd as if 'twould ne'er subside ; 
 
 With anxious gaze he cast his eyes about. 
 But nothing met his glance save pallid fire, 
 
 Hissing and darting through the robe of night. 
 The groan again ! — He scarcely could respire — 
 
 A human form now struck his wond'ring sight, 
 Strctch'd on the soaking earth, whose soul seem'd near its 
 flight. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 He raised it up, and gazed upon the face ; 
 
 He called for lights, he summon'd all within : 
 No sign of life could good Relvedder trace; 
 
 A ghastly corse it seem'd — The livid skin 
 As if by frequent blows was bruised and rent ; 
 
 His splendid robes (for he appear'd of rank) 
 Were soiled and torn, and as the good man bent 
 
 111 kindness o'er, his heart within him sank. 
 As kneeling by his side, amongst the tall grass dank.
 
 CANTO I. RELVEDDER. 15 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 They rais'cl the hapless man — they bore him quick 
 
 Unto the hall — removed his dripping clothes : 
 Relvedder's wife, sweet guardian of the sick, 
 
 In kindness nursed him — put him to repose ; 
 And watch'd his ev'ry move with anxious care ; 
 
 They marvell'd much who could the stranger be : 
 Again, again, they'd to his couch repair; 
 
 They liked his aspect, fair it was to see, 
 Such nobleness appear"d in its fine symmetry, 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 A many days elapsed ere he revived — 
 
 Delirium reign'd — He raved about the sea ; 
 Of drowning men contending for their lives ; 
 
 Of hollow groans, and dreadful agony ; 
 Of storms and thunder, rocks, and beds of sand ; 
 
 Of sinking ships, and overwhelming wave ; 
 Of pallid corses drifting to the land, 
 
 For whom no pitying hand was stretch'd to save, 
 But helpless left to sink, and find an ocean grave. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 And oh ! it grieved them sorely to behold 
 So much of beauty lying helpless there ! 
 
 To see his eyes in maddening flashes rolPd 
 And gaze upon them with unmeaning glare ;
 
 16 RELVEDDER. canto x. 
 
 Tlien fainting fall upon his restless bed, 
 
 And sigh, and moan, so pensive and so low — 
 
 Alas ! alas ! at times they thought him dead ! 
 
 Then down his cheeks the burning tears would flow, 
 And his broad chest would throb with sad convulsive throe. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 At length by slow degrees his health return *d ; 
 
 The colour mantled o'er his handsome cheek ; 
 His jet-black eye in gratitude was turn'd 
 
 On those who succour'd him — they did bespeak 
 The inward workings of his grateful mind. 
 
 And told how much he prizM their goodness, worth ; 
 The loving friends, the benefactors kind. 
 
 Who gave him refuge in this gloomy earth. 
 When sorrow hemm'd him round, and woe had taken birth ! 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 One summer's eve, when all was hush'd and still. 
 
 And nature's brow was tranquil and serene. 
 When naught was heard save purling of the rill 
 
 That sweetly glided 'neath the emerald screen, 
 Unto a bow'r o'erhung with roses bright. 
 
 And mantled round with aromatic trees, 
 Relvedder did his much-lov'd guest invite 
 
 To spend an hour and catch the soothing breeze. 
 Which o'er the placid scene came dancing from the seas.
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 RELVEDDER. 17 
 
 XL. 
 
 And, as they rested 'neath the fragrant shade, 
 
 And mark'd the sun declining o'er the sea, 
 On whose wide breast the burnished streamers play'd, 
 
 And ting'd the gliding waves so beauteously ; 
 Relvedder said — " My dearest friend — come, tell 
 
 (We're all impatience, courteous Sir, to hear) 
 Upon that dreadful night what you befel — 
 
 Relate thy life, it will the moments cheer :" 
 His wife and beauteous child in eagerness drew near. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Thus spake the stranger, as his piercing eye 
 
 In rapture rested on the maiden's face ; 
 (From his full heart escaped the tender sigh ; 
 
 He'd ne'er beheld such loveliness and grace 
 In all his travels, never yet had seen 
 
 A form so exquisite, so sweet a mien : 
 He gazed, and grazed, as he had ravish'd been. 
 
 Her laughing eyes were as the eve-star's gleam, 
 When at day's closing hour it glistens o'er the stream.) 
 
 XLII. 
 Thus then he spake : — " My country's o'er the sea — 
 
 That earthly paradise — that land of flow'r , 
 Adored by all — soul-soothing Italy ! 
 
 Oh ! 'tis the seat of nature's utmost pow'r ! 
 
 D
 
 Ig RELVEDDER. canto t. 
 
 Tlie paragon of excellence ! — the bow'r of love ! 
 
 Where all is heavenly, exquisite and grand ! 
 What sweet emotions the fond bosom move, 
 
 Beholding thee, thou sweet romantic land ! 
 Thy wide pellucid lakes — thy gentle breezes bland ! 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Thv dark-hair'd daughters, lovely to behold. 
 
 With heaving bosoms, beating with desire : 
 How far superior to the glances cold 
 
 Of northern dames, those glowing looks of fire ! 
 There love in all its glory holds its reign, 
 
 UnchecFd, unlimited — devoid of art — 
 No forms, or rules, the tender maids constrain ; 
 
 No hated affectation, for the heart 
 Speaketh its hopes and fears, and love's sweet tear-droi>s start. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Thy pale blue mountains, ignorant of storms, 
 
 Piercing the sky, so glowing, rich and bright ; 
 In shapes fantastic, rear their stately forms. 
 
 Placid and tranquil, smiling with delight ; 
 Thy purple vineyards, and thy fragrant bow'rs ; 
 
 Thy plains of verdure — waving woods and dells : 
 The rich perfume that on the zephyr pours ; 
 
 The plaintive music of thy vesper bells — 
 Oh ! land of joy and love, all other thou excels !
 
 CANTO I. RELVEDDEll. 19 
 
 XLV. 
 
 'Twas there I drew my breath — in tliat fair scene 
 
 My childhood's days were pass'd — Oh ! happy days ! 
 From thy dear haunts a wanderer long Fve been 
 
 Roaming the earth, and witnessing the ways 
 Of vain far-reaching man — ambition's tool ! 
 
 Pompous and proud — poor grov'lling bit of earth ! 
 The sport of time and fortune's plaything — fool ! 
 
 Grasping at vapour, in whose soul's a dearth 
 Of sweet content and peace — dark wretchedness has birtl 
 
 i! 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 My father was a soldier. — Oh ! that men 
 
 Can't live in peace, without the blast of war ! 
 Dread harbinger of woe ! — what horrors then 
 
 Would leave the earth. — Thy sanguine car, 
 Thy implements of strife — Oh ! hated Mars ! 
 
 Thy cannon's thunder, and thy hollow groans ; 
 Thy death-wounds dire — thy gaping grumous scars ; 
 
 The parting spirit's plaintive dying moans — 
 Fell desolating God ! blighter of joys and homes ! 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 A braver man ne'er wielded sword or lance — 
 His cry was glory— valour was his theme ! 
 
 The din of Avar he lov'd — his piercing glance 
 Upon the gath'ring foe would wildly gleam
 
 30 RELVEDDER. canto i. 
 
 Witli look undaunted ; and tlie charger's neigh 
 Rejoiced him more than music's gladdening sound, 
 
 As wild with fury, rushing, sweeping, they 
 O'er the drear field did wreckful, madly bound 
 Thro' the thinn'd broken ranks, inflicting death around. 
 
 XLVIII. 
 At length Moranto ('twas my father's name) 
 
 Was ta'en in battle, and a captive made 
 By Don Laruto, fierce as lightning flame. — 
 
 His brilliant sun had set — dark fortune's shade 
 Had mantled o'er him — His proud soul arose 
 
 At thoughts of such debasement — ^how he burn'd 
 To show'r revenge upon his hated foes ! 
 
 Alas ! alas ! the tide of war had turn'd, 
 And o'er his shatter'd hopes the captive soldier mourn'd. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 My sire he hated, dreaded and despised ; 
 
 It joy'd him much to have him 'neath his pow'r ; 
 What law of arms and manners authorised 
 
 He heeded not, but did his vengeance pour 
 With malice great — ^liis limbs with chains he bound, 
 
 And cast him down into a gloomy cell. 
 Dismal and damp, with nothing save the ground 
 
 On which to rest on — light he did expel, 
 And left him helpless there where naught but vermin dwell.
 
 CANTO I. RELVEDDER. 21 
 
 L. 
 
 Thus then he lay, shut out from heav''n''s sweet light, 
 
 Refreshing air, and nature'^s fair domain : 
 Around his cell he cast his useless sight, 
 
 Darkness alone there held its solemn reiOT. 
 A noxious, putrid vapour, dank and foul, 
 
 Roird thro' the vault its foetid sick'ning smell. 
 And ever and anon the sonorous toll. 
 
 The cadence deep of the old castle bell, 
 Re-echo\l thro' the vaults as if it rang his knell. 
 
 LI. 
 
 Oh ! it is o-allino- to the noble heart 
 
 o o 
 
 To be confined by savage brutal pow'r ; 
 Helpless to pine, from dearest friends apart. 
 
 And drag unpitied thro** the tedious hour ; 
 To have the limbs enclosed with hateful chains, 
 
 Their constant rattling grating thro*" the soul, 
 Whilst callous gaolers, laughing, mock your pains, 
 
 And greet your cars with oaths, and language foul. 
 Then o'er the iron door the massy bars they roll. 
 
 LII. 
 
 Oh ! then what longings fill the teeming mind ! 
 
 What recollections crowd the musing brain ! 
 What wc thought curses once — alas ! we find 
 
 Were blessings pure and sweet, ami we would fain
 
 22 RELVEDDER. canto i. 
 
 Now hold communion with tliem — feel again 
 
 The pleasures we then felt, and thought Avere woe. 
 Man knows not blessings till away they're ta^-n ! 
 Until he's felt some sharper, keener blow. 
 He knows not good from ill in this dark vale below •' 
 
 LIII. 
 
 Time roU'd along, and yet Moranto lay 
 
 Tn this vile spot, dejected and forlorn ; 
 He knew not day from night, the night from day, 
 
 The burnished ev''ning from the crimson morn. 
 And, as he heard the heavy echoing sound 
 
 Of guards and gaolers pacing near his cell. 
 He sprang unconscious from the mildewM ground, 
 
 He thought the tyrant (hated fiend of hell !) 
 "VVas there with tortures dire and executioner fell. 
 
 LIV. 
 And yet no plaint escaped him — calm and still 
 
 He waited bravely for the fatal word — 
 He knew he lay at Don Laruto's will — 
 
 Th' assassin dark, detested and abhorr'd ! 
 And, as he raised his stately warlike form 
 
 From oiF the ground, and clash'd his fettered hands, 
 " Come on, Laruto ! hurl the utmost storm 
 
 Of thy soul's fury — bring thy ruffian bands — 
 I hear await thy -wrath — Moranto fearless stands •'
 
 CANTO I. RELVEDDER. 23 
 
 LV. 
 
 Come ! bring the liatchct — bring the strangling cord ! 
 
 I will not shrink, nor quake before thy might ; 
 I'll hear unmov'd the final signal word, 
 
 And scorn thee, tyrant ! as my soul takes flight. 
 A soldier 1 have liv d, as one I'll die ! 
 
 Only one pang wouldrthen shoot thro' my heart, 
 That I did not upon the war-field lie, 
 
 On glory's bed, pierced by the foeman's dart. 
 Among the noble slain, and there with life-blood part." 
 
 LVI. 
 
 But yet they came not — Day by day roll'd on 
 
 In dull monotony — darkness reignM around. 
 Alas ! alas ! faint hope was nearly gone — 
 
 Within his mind did images abound 
 Avvful and drear. — DisorderVl was his brain — 
 
 The solemn silence — so horribly still — 
 Confused his senses — nigh he was insane — 
 
 Forebodings dreadful to his mind instill. 
 And flit athwart his brain against his reason's will. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 The guards at length did one by one depart, 
 Save one weak veteran soldier, feeble, old ; 
 
 Old tho' he was, he had a callous heart. 
 His features grim the sufF'ring captive told :
 
 34 RELVEDDER. canto i. 
 
 And Avlien he brought him food, he tried in vain 
 
 To make him speak, but all without avail — 
 All gloomy silence — Nor would he explain 
 Aught to the prisoner — but his ears assail 
 With one deep lengthen'd curse, and scofF'd his hapless 
 tale. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 How prone is man, when clothed with little pow'r, 
 
 To persecute, and wring the breasts of those 
 Whom fickle fortune in an evil hour 
 
 Has left to fall ! — Oh ! with what joy he throws 
 The cup of wormwood to their sinking hearts ! 
 
 When they''re declining, how he helps the fall ; 
 To their piercM bosoms adds a thousand darts ; 
 
 Mocks the soul's anguish — mocks the plaintive call, 
 And like vile snarling curs, fall on them one and all ! 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Thus was Moranto left in sore suspense — 
 
 He marvelFd much, he knew not what to think ; 
 No friend had he, no weapon of defence 
 
 Was left to cheer him — he was on the brink 
 Of dark despair — " And shall I never see — 
 
 Oh ! shall I never, cried the hapless chief, 
 The mother dear who watclf d my infancy, 
 
 And to my helpless years gave sweet relief — 
 Oh ! heavy, heavy hour ! my heart nigh bursts with grief ! —
 
 CANTO I. RELVEDDER. 25 
 
 LX. 
 
 Oh ! shall I never more behold the woods 
 
 Thro"' Avhich Fve wander'd ? — never more behold 
 The glassy streams ? — the wild contending floods ? 
 
 The tow'ring Alps ? — the western rays of gold ? 
 The wide clear sky ? — the tranquil calm of eve ? 
 
 The restless ocean fflisfnini? with the light 
 From nighfs fair queen ? — Must I these beauties leave, 
 
 For everlasting, dark and cheerless night ? 
 
 Forbid it lieav'n and earth I — the thought my heart doth 
 
 blight ! 
 
 LXI. 
 
 And shall these hated walls inclose me round, 
 
 Until I fall beneath pale famine''s pow'r, 
 And sink unheeded on the loathsome ground, 
 
 Unknown to all ? — Oh ! heart-appalling hour ! 
 And shall my withered limbs be left to lie 
 
 In this vile charnal house — this vault of hell ? 
 Ignoble death, in such a spot to die. 
 
 With no kind friend to catch the last farewell, 
 To cheer the latent hour, and gloomy thoughts expel !" 
 
 LXII. 
 
 But just when dark despair, with deadly ire. 
 
 Was bursting o'er him — when all hope had fled — 
 
 When those bright eyes were dim, that once were fire, 
 And all his former self within was dead; 
 
 £
 
 20 RELVEDDER. canto i. 
 
 Deliv*rance came, like cheering ray of light 
 That shoots across the tempest's cheerless brow ; 
 
 Like heavenly music, creeping on the night. 
 From some far land borne o'er the ocean's flow, 
 And to his wretched mind did thrilling transports throw. 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 'Twas just as day was sinking into night, 
 
 And gentle breezes fann\l the rippling sea ; 
 When o'er the hills, Diana, gleaming bright, 
 
 Cast forth her beam in spotless purity ; 
 And myi'tle trees their fragrance wafted o'er 
 
 The placid lakes, and filFd the balmy air, 
 And sweetly dipp'd the gondolier's oar, 
 
 Laruto's daughter, heavenly and fair, 
 Did to the castle-walls in thoughtful mood repair. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 Her lovely eyes survey'd the wide expanse 
 
 Of sky and ocean — solemn, calm and still — 
 A thoughtfulness crept o'er her, a sweet trance 
 
 Enwrapp'd her soul, and did her bosom fill 
 With sweet emotions — 'Oh ! it was a scene 
 
 So pure and lovely — so romantic — grand ! 
 It seem'd enchantment ! — Rising hills of green 
 
 Kiss'd the blue wave, whose breast the zephyr fann'd : 
 It seem'd the witching work of some great fairy's wand.
 
 CANTO I. RELVEDDER. 27 
 
 LXV. 
 
 And as she paced tlie battlements of stone, 
 
 (That rose in gloomy grandeur o'er the wave, 
 Thro' whose high turrets, with sad plaintive moan, 
 
 Sigh'd the soft wind) and listened to the lave 
 Of curling wavelets, as they glided on 
 
 In silver circles ''neatli the trembling ray, 
 Awhile in sight, then to the ocean gone. 
 
 Dancing and leaping on their joyous way — 
 In wispVing accents sweet thus to her maid did say :^ 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 " And do you think the captive in yon cell 
 
 (The warrior captive — Edith, tell me true) 
 Is that Moranto of whom minstrels tell? 
 
 The noble soldier whose proud banner flew. 
 And flutter'd o'er so many fields of Avar — 
 
 The boast of valour, and the theme of song ? 
 Come, tell me what thou think'st ? — Yon burning star 
 
 Is the sole list'ner — Oh ! for much I long 
 To be inform'd of this — sad fears my bosom throng !" 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 " Indeed, sweet Bertha, must I speak my mind. 
 And tell to thee the secrets of my heart ■ 
 
 He then it is — the noble, good, the kind. 
 
 Valorous Moranto bound in chains ! — You start ■"
 
 28 RELVEDDER. canto i. 
 
 "Howknow'st thou tliat? — Come, give to me the proof, 
 I'm all impatience — Surely such as he 
 
 My father ne'er would persecute !" — " Forsooth ! 
 'Tis brave Moranto pining helplessly 
 Within yon dungeon's gloom — Old Pedro told it me." 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 " May bounteous heav'n preserve the warrior chief ! 
 
 (Cried the sweet maiden, as she clasp'd her hands 
 O'er her white bosom) — Oh ! what heavy grief 
 
 Must wring his noble heart •' — Where are the bands, 
 The troops of soldiers, and the vet'rans bold, 
 
 With whom he fought — companions of his joy ? — 
 Why leave him helpless now, when fate has roll'd 
 
 Its dark shroud o'er him ? — Vile inconstancy ! 
 Why leave your gallant chief in durance here to die ?" 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 And this young maiden that deplor'd the youth 
 
 With such deep ardour, (down whose lovely face 
 The round tears fell like drops of dew,) in sooth. 
 
 Possessed such beauty, symmetry and grace, 
 That struck with admiration and surprise 
 
 All who beheld her. — Fair she was to view — 
 The glowing lustre of her beaming eyes 
 
 Was fascination ! — large they were, and blue. 
 And woe betide the youth on whom their glances flew •
 
 CANTO I. RELVEDDER. 29 
 
 LXX. 
 
 Artless and siaiple was she — slie had ne'er 
 
 Mix'd with the workl, but grew in solitude 
 Like a sweet lily — spotless, pure, and fair, 
 
 Nurs'd in the wild, with innocence imbued 
 And tender feeling. — Her ambitious sire 
 
 Kept her secluded — sacred from the gaze 
 Of prying man. — Stern was his look, and fire 
 
 Of hottest wrath did from his eye-balls blaze, 
 Whene'er she wander'd forth alone at ev'ning^s haze. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 A tilt or tournament she never graced, 
 
 Nor music's votaries, nor sportive throng ; 
 Lonely and restless through the halls she paced, 
 
 Lofty and gloomy — implements among 
 For battle's use. — Spears, swords, and coats of mail 
 
 Graced the oak walls — shields, bows, the deadly mace ; 
 And pond'rous halberds, which did oft assail 
 
 The haughty foe ; and left the reeking trace 
 Of the warm streaming gore upon the battle's face. 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 Thus then she lived, secluded from the workl; 
 
 Devoid of affectation, art or guile : 
 Unto her soul had never been unfurl'd 
 
 The earth's dark banner — sweetly did she smile
 
 30 RELVEDDER. canto i. 
 
 In her own happiness. — Shut out from all, 
 Her mind ran wildly in a fond romance ; 
 
 Bright thoughts of pleasure did her heart inthrall, 
 And thro' her brain did fairy visions dance, 
 And held her captive mind in ecstasy entranced. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 It joy'd her much in reading legends old. 
 
 Of minstrels, knights, and ladies fair to see ; 
 Of hapless damsels, haughty barons bold ; 
 
 Of lovers' sighs, and tears, and constancy; 
 Of broken hearts — of combats fierce and fell ; 
 
 Of gloomy castles — clangous chains and groans ; 
 Of dismal caves where pallid spectres dwell. 
 
 Pacing by moonlight past the mildew'd tombs. 
 Whilst thro' the cypress trees the night wind sadly moans. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 At times lone minstrels would get access 
 
 Into the castle, and some tale relate 
 Wond'rous and wild ; — and songs of loveliness 
 
 And lute's soft music Mould her soul awake 
 To sweetest rapture, and her eyes would gleam 
 
 With joyous lustre, then o'erflow with tears, 
 Like the bright sun's sweet cloud-dispersing beam. 
 
 Which thro' the changing April sky appears. 
 And with warm glowing ray the gloomy prospect cheers.
 
 CANTO I. RELVEDDER. 31 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 Then there was Father Pedro, who would oft 
 
 On winter ev'nings, when the storm roar'd loud, 
 Relate his youthful prowess. — He had cross'd 
 
 The fiery prancing steed, and saw the cloud, 
 The dreadful cloud of war rise o'er the land. 
 
 Frightful and black. — He spoke of bygone times 
 Long fled away — of past adventures grand ; 
 
 Of contests fierce in foreign burning climes — 
 Until the convent bells did chant the midnight chimes. 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 And in the wondrous tales of other years 
 
 Moranto's name was dwelt upon : — his race 
 Had been all warriors. — The tender tears 
 
 Would trickle down the blooming Bertha's face. 
 Like water pearls, in tender sympathy. 
 
 When hearing of the woe, the bitter pain 
 Which they had sufFer'd far, far o'er the sea. 
 
 Where desolation held its dismal reign, 
 And pallid famine dwelt, and cast its woeful banc ! 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 Such tales as these inflamed her youthful mind ; 
 
 Young and untutor'd they did tend to feed 
 Her wild imagination — as the Avind 
 
 Invigorates the blaze — and they would breed
 
 32 RELVEDDER. canto i. 
 
 Feverish excitements. — Fancy held its sway, 
 And sported uncontroll'd within her brain ; 
 
 Enchanting visions, beaming bright, did play. 
 And in her soul rejoicing held their reign, 
 Without one gloomy thought to brealc the fairy chain. 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 Had her fond mother livVI she had been taught 
 
 To keep her spotless mind within the bound 
 Of reason's channel, as it was it caught 
 
 Aught improbable, and it did abound 
 And riot run in wild imagining. — 
 
 Oh ! evil great when maidens are bereft 
 Of mother's counsel ; when the fost'ring wing 
 
 Is suddenly withdrawn, and they are left 
 Like green and tender plants which from the trees are cleft ! 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 No sooner knew she 'twas Moranto lay 
 
 Within the cell at her proud father's rage, 
 And p'rhaps upon some dark unlucky day 
 
 Would be led forth (his anger to assuage) 
 To fatal block, and with his noble blood 
 
 Stain ignominiously the hated knife 
 Of grov lling executioner, than a flood 
 
 Fill'd her blue eyes — her throbbing heart was rife 
 With anguish, and she vow'd to save the warrior's life.
 
 CAi^To I. RELVEDDER. 33 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 And when this resolution she had ta'en, 
 
 A tumult wild possess'd her fearful mind ; 
 A keen sensation shot athwart her brain : 
 
 What would Moranto say to her, who pined 
 In that drear vault ? — To be restored to light — 
 
 And by herself! — How would he look his joy ? 
 How speak his thanks ? — Her spotless bosom white, 
 
 Her neck, her face glow'd deep with crimson dye 
 On thinking she outstepp'd the bounds of modestv. 
 
 LXXXl. 
 
 And should he prove the hero of her dream, 
 
 The unseen object foremost in her mind. 
 Whose acts of valour gloriously did gleam 
 
 O'er the wide land, and glided on the wind 
 On wings of fame o'er ocean's boundless flood — 
 
 Oh ! should he be ! — The tender tear-drop fell 
 From out its azure home — The mantling blood 
 
 Left her smooth cheek, and pallidness did dwell 
 O'er her sweet features, and her gentle breast did swell 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 With fear's emotions. As she turn'd away 
 From the high bastion, and sought repose 
 
 Within her chamber's solitude, a lay 
 Of sweetest music with enchanting flows
 
 34 RELVEDDER. canto i. 
 
 Fiird the niglit air, then slowly died away 
 O'er the smooth billow — then again arose ; 
 
 Thro' the high rocks its echoes sweet did play ; 
 The plaintive melody assuaged the throes 
 She felt within her heart, and sooth'd her fancied woes. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 'Twas noon of night, and nature lay absorbed 
 
 In tranquil sleep — the faint and trembling light 
 Of waning moon ('neath which just lightly stirr'd • 
 
 The scarce-form'd tiny waves) shone thro' the night 
 With sickly gleam — the distant rising hills 
 
 Just pierced the dense and heavy sable shroud 
 That wrapp'd the earth, and plaintive murm'ring rills 
 
 Their cadence pour'd around, and long and loud 
 The cataract's deep sound did on the stillness crowd. 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 The last deep stroke had struck the castle bell, 
 
 And answering glens had echoed back the sound ; 
 Two shrovided figures in Moranto's cell 
 
 Stood by his side, as on the moisten'd ground 
 Extended lay he — on his eye^ did dwell 
 
 The slumb'ring God — how desolate he seem'd ! 
 The pent-up air did near their lamp expell ; 
 
 But when upon the warrior's face it gleam'd, 
 He suddenly awoke — He thought at first he dream'd —
 
 CANTO I. RELVEDDER. 35 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 He wildly stared, then sprang upon his feet 
 
 Lig-ht as the roe, as if the heavy chains 
 That bound his limbs, and did harsh discords speak, 
 
 Were made of gossamer. — Just then these strains. 
 Sweet as the morning echo, struck his ear — 
 
 " Haste for your life ! — let not a moment fly ! — 
 Follow us quickly — danger great is near — 
 
 A moment lost and you'll be left to lie 
 In this dire house of death o'erwhelm'd with misery." 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 He bow'd in silence, and prepared to quit 
 
 The cursed and hated spot — loathsome and vile — 
 Receptacle of woe — than hell's dark pit 
 
 More terrible ! — Again sweet hope did smile; 
 He wonder'd much who could the strangers be 
 
 Who"'d come to succour him. — His chains they eas'd, 
 And stopp'd their clangous noise, then joyfully 
 
 Through subterraneous vaults the chief releas^l 
 From the drear darksome cell, and all his fears appeas'd. 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 They cross'd some courts o''ergrown with grass and weeds, 
 
 Until before them rose the massy pile 
 Of an old chapel — Monks, and nuns with beads, 
 
 Faced to and fro along the winding aisle,
 
 36 RELVEDDER. canto t. 
 
 And tapers burnM, as if some solemn rite 
 
 Was about acting — His conductors said, 
 " You must allow us, soldier, o'er your sight 
 
 To tie this napkin" — which, when done, they led 
 Him quickly onward forth. — 'Mongst dwellings of the dead 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 He thought he was — a foul, o'ercoming smell 
 
 Crept o^er his senses, and the hollow sound 
 That roll'd along, oft, as their footsteps fell, 
 
 Convinced Moranto he was underground 
 Amongst the mould'ring relics of the dead. 
 
 He marveird much — he knew not what to think — 
 Who were his guides ? — and whither was he led ? 
 
 At length they stopp'd, he thought he heard the chink 
 As of some secret spring — and then a tingling clink, 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 As of a chain drawn o'er an iron door : 
 
 He then was hurried forwards, and he felt 
 He'd left the noxious air and stony floor 
 
 Of the close sepulchre ; for now he smelt 
 A purer atmosphere — the chilliness had gone. 
 
 His veil dropped off, and to his view appear'd 
 A small square room, in which he was alone ; 
 
 A fire was blazing brightly, and it cheer'd 
 The soldier's aching eyes, and to the flame he near'd.
 
 CANTO 1. RELVEDDER. 37 
 
 XC. 
 
 His guides had fled — he wonder'd who they were — 
 
 The more he thought the more he was surpris'd : 
 They could not be the castle warders, for 
 
 Him they detested, hated and despis'd. 
 He cast his eyes a second time around — 
 
 'Twas furnish'd comfortably, and seem'd to be 
 Ecclesiastic's private cell. — He found 
 
 Those unknown friends had gi'en him liberty; 
 And on the ground he sank, and pray'd most fervently.
 
 RELVEDDER. 
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 I. 
 
 ■3'- 
 
 MoRANTo sat "within his private room, 
 
 And much he wonder^cl how it all might end ; 
 From off his heart the heavy weight of gloom 
 
 Had disappear^l, and joyous thoughts did blend 
 Within his soul, as sunlit cloudlets fair 
 
 Skirting the horizon's rim, pure and bright, 
 When the loud storm has ceased, rise in the air 
 
 In fleecy clusters with their bosoms white. 
 And thro' the tempest's wrack emit their cheering light. 
 
 II. 
 
 And oh ! to one who'd been so long confin'd 
 In such a prison, how it cheer'd his heart 
 
 To be once more at large ! — to feel the wind. 
 The soothing breath of heav'n ! — to be apart
 
 CANTO H. RELVEDDER. 39 
 
 From rattling chains, foul air, and darkness dire ! — 
 
 Oh ! how those thoughts struck horror to his soul ! — 
 He drew himself yet nearer to the fire, 
 And listen^l silently the solemn roll 
 Of distant convent bells as they the hours did toll. 
 
 III. 
 
 He long had not remain'd, ere Pedro came ; 
 
 It was his secret chamber, and he saw 
 Without surprise the soldier o'er the flame 
 
 Leaning in thought — He raised his head — an awe, 
 A reverential feeling fllFd his mind 
 
 At siaht of this old hoarv man of God : 
 His snow-white tresses fluttered in the wind ; 
 
 His feeble frame leant o''er an oaken rod, 
 As with weak tott'ring steps he entered his abode. 
 
 IV. 
 
 No sooner learnt Moranto from the priest 
 
 To whom he owed his liberty, his life — 
 The beauteous Bertha ! than a flow, a feast 
 
 Of rapturous feelings in his breast were rife ; 
 The blood rushVl wildly thro' his swelling veins, 
 
 And o'er his face a hectic colour flew ; 
 His heart was bound in gratitude's sweet chains 
 
 To the dear angel, and he nearer drew 
 To the old man, and craved a speedy interview.
 
 40 RELVEDDER. canto u. 
 
 V. 
 
 Recruited by a night of sweet repose, 
 
 Refrcsh'd by wholesome food, Moranto's look 
 Was fine and noble — tints of rose 
 
 Adorn'd his cheek — the languor had forsook 
 His dark full eye — His curling lip bespoke 
 
 His heart's sensations, and sweet laughing joy 
 With all its merry train had now awoke 
 
 Within its secret chambers, where the sigh 
 So late within its core had held its jubilee. 
 
 VI. 
 
 *Twas on the evening of the second day, 
 
 (Whilst list'ning to his host the deeds relate 
 Of former times, achieved by those who lay 
 
 Now in the lowly dust — they who did slake 
 Their thirst for vengeance in their foeman's blood — 
 
 His gallant kinsmen ! — they M^ho ne'er forgave 
 A wrong or insult, but, like scaping flood. 
 
 Or overwhelming, sweeping, storm-ui"ged wave, 
 Their enemies pursued with battle axe and glaive. — ) 
 
 VII. 
 
 The door opeM suddenly, and then appear'd 
 Laruto's daughter, and her favVite maid : 
 
 She started back — she paus'd awhile — she fearM, 
 Nor dared to enter. — " Be not thus afraid
 
 CANTO II. RELVEDDER. 41 
 
 (Cried the old priest) — Step forth, iny child — step forth." 
 At sight of her the soldier mutely stood 
 
 As bust of marble. — In this spacious earth 
 He'd never seen such excellence — A flood 
 Of heartfelt thanks escaped, and to his face the blood 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Quick glided forth — He sank upon his knees, 
 
 And pour'd his gratitude in accents sweet 
 Into the maiden''s ear — by slow degrees 
 
 Composure came — Her bright eyes did bespeak 
 Her bosom''s raptures, and the tear-drops run 
 
 Adown her blushing check — " Oh ! lady fair ! 
 My sweet, my guardian angel ! — Thou bright sun ! 
 
 (Cried the enraptured chief) whose brilliant glare 
 Pierc'd my drear cell of woe — my hapless soul was bare 
 
 IX. 
 
 Of aught like hope — Despair's dark heavy robe 
 
 Enclos'd mc round — my heart was void and lone 
 Of aught save misery — it was a globe 
 
 Of hate and anguish, and the hollow moan 
 Of persecuted pride would sadly creep 
 
 From out its deep recess — it was a sea 
 That waited only for the thundering sweep 
 
 Of some great storm to rise triumphantly, 
 And with its furious waves hurl death and misery. 
 
 6
 
 42 RELVEDDER. canto it. 
 
 X. 
 
 Till tliou, oh gentle maiden ! lent thy aid 
 
 To set me free, and heal my broken heart ; 
 To lift from off my prostrate soul the shade 
 
 That mantled o''er me — Oh ! from thee to part 
 Would turn my brain ' — my heart's pulsation blight ! — 
 
 Here then I swear by all my hopes of bliss 
 In heav''n"'s high concave — by this falchin bright, 
 
 My honour's trusty guard, which now I kiss, 
 ril be thy guardian knight — thy champion true, in this 
 
 XI. 
 
 Wide gloomy earth, and guard thee from all ill ! 
 
 ril be to thee a shield ! — Thou art a flowV 
 ril nurse within my breast — the sanguine rill 
 
 Of my warm life-blood shall o'erflow the bow"'r 
 In which thou liest ensconc'd — My tender sighs 
 
 Shall fan thee round, and reach thy gentle heart. 
 Oh ! who could gaze on those mild, lovely eyes, 
 
 And be unmov'd .? — Oh ! who from thee could part ? 
 Thou'rt fascination all ! — The more fresh beauties start 
 
 XII. 
 
 The more we gaze ; as bashful starlets peep 
 Through twilight haze at faint departing day. 
 
 When night's deep shadows o'er the landscape creep 
 With modest gleam through fading cloudlets gray.
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 RELVEDDER. 43 
 
 Oh ! lovely maiden \ beautiful and kind ! 
 
 Thou"'rt purer far than morning\s crimson ray ! 
 Tljan soul-enliv'ning gusts of mountain wind, 
 
 Which o'er the lakes and thro' the vine trees play ! 
 Than all delighting things — thou'rt sweeter far than they ! 
 
 XIII. 
 
 The opening rose-bud cannot vie with thee ! 
 
 Nor deep carnation with its brilliant tint ! 
 Nor flow'ring myrtles, beautiful to see ! 
 
 Nor bashful flow' rets on the tangFd brink 
 Of mountain stream ! — The speckless azure sky, 
 
 The dancing billow rippling 'neath the swell 
 Of joyous breeze which from the canopy 
 
 Of heav'n flies down — The wild and silent dell 
 So solit'ry and still — The plaintive tinkling bell 
 
 XIV, 
 
 From distant sheep-folds creeping on the air 
 
 At evening hour — Voluptuous strain 
 Of warbling nightingale — The stars — The fair 
 
 And full round moon — The sinmnoc golden ffrain. 
 Glowing and rich beneath the mid-day sun. 
 
 The rainbow's circle — Moonlit placid lakes 
 Sleeping in beauty — prattling streams that run. 
 
 The rising mountains glist'ning with the flakes 
 Of spotless virgin snow — the bird of heav'n that takes
 
 44 RELVEDDER. canto it. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Its graceful flight througli silver pearly cloud ; 
 
 The twilight hour so gentle, calm and still, 
 The tranquil midnight when the sable shroud 
 
 Is spread o'er ocean's breast, o'er dale and hill ; 
 The scented bowers — The streaks of carmine, 
 
 Bright harbingers of cheerful morning's birth ; 
 The glowing woodbines that so sweetly twine 
 
 Around the briers — The limpid dews of earth — 
 Thy charms outvie them all ! — thou paragon of worth !" — 
 
 XVI. 
 
 His honied words sank deep into her soul ; 
 
 Her heart beat wildly, and her eyes did glow 
 With tender lustre — forth a tear-drop stole 
 
 Adown her cheek as bashfully and slow 
 She raised her deep blue eyes, and cast a look 
 
 Of sweetest feeling on Moranto's face ; 
 It thrill'd thro' ev'ry vein — Her hand he took — 
 
 " Oh ! lovely lady ! time can ne'er erase 
 Thine image from my heart '" — The glowing blush did race 
 
 XVII. 
 
 And mantled o'er her cheeks — (Enchanting love ! 
 
 The dearest far of all great nature''s gifts ! 
 That doth the stony breast of warrior move 
 
 To peace and gentleness — Oh ! how thou lift'st
 
 CANTO II. RELVEDDER. 45 
 
 The frrov'llinir thoufjhts of eartli from off the heart ! 
 
 Pur<rest the soul ! — bhistest the baneful root 
 Of hated vice ! — What new sensations start 
 
 To the fall bosom ! — Thrilling transports shoot 
 Thro'out the dreaming mind — too great for words ! — Mute 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Is the once-loud tongue ! — The nature's changed — 
 
 Sighs, tenderness and bliss — sweet hopes and fears, 
 Alternately throughout the mind are ranged : 
 
 Vows, protestations, languishment and tears. 
 Oh ! meteor bright ! celestial trait of heav'n ! 
 
 Oh ! mighty gift ! to cheer the gloomy days 
 Of wretched man, in mercy thou wert given ! 
 
 How cold's the heart without thy glowing rays ! 
 How desolate and sad ' — no joy around it plays ! 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Barren as rock ' — unfruitful as the sand ! 
 
 Chilly as ice ! — as feeble polar light 
 Ungenial ! — until the magic wand 
 
 Of soul-absorbing love withdraws the niglit, 
 And thro' the heavy gloom sweet gleams break forth, 
 
 Illuming all within, and making life 
 A beaming bow'r of bliss ! — of joy ! — of worth ! — 
 
 The seat of virtue — destitute of strife — 
 And with the sweetest thoughts the gliding hours are rife.)
 
 46 RELVEUDER. canto it. 
 
 XX. 
 
 The evening waned in converse pure and sweet ; 
 
 The honied hours seemM moments— quick they flew 
 On wings of pleasure, for their hearts did beat 
 
 With love's sweet ecstasies, and swiftly thro' 
 Their youthful blood the fascinating dart 
 
 Like lightning shot — at length the heavy hour 
 By lovers most abhorr'd, in which they part. 
 
 Came creeping on — the castle-bell did pour 
 Its sonorous chimes along through fort and tower, 
 
 XXI. 
 
 And told the solemn hour of vespers — then 
 
 Sweet Bertha took her leave, and left the chief 
 To his own musings. — Oh ! it cheer'd him when 
 
 He thought of all that pass'd — such racking grief 
 So quickly turn'd to soul-enrapturing joy — 
 
 Oh, sweet reverse ! undreamt of happiness ! 
 Day follow'd day in bliss without alloy — 
 
 This maiden fair — this flow'r of loveliness 
 Dwelt ever in his thoughts and did his moments bless. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 But still he wonder'd how things sped without — 
 If war was o'er — which pow'r had won the day : 
 
 He Avonder'd if his friends had put to rout 
 Laruto's force — Alas ! alas ! the fray
 
 CANTO II. RELVEDDER. 47 
 
 He fear'd had ended in an overthrow 
 
 Of all his dearest hopes. — At length the priest 
 
 Did bring him word was struck the final blow, 
 And war's shrill bugle for a time had ceased. 
 This gratified his soul — right glad he was, and pleased 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 To hear his own had been the conq'ring pow'r. 
 And that too much divided were his foes 
 
 To make reprisal :■ — "'twas a timely hour 
 
 For an escape— but no, a something throws 
 
 A binding spell around him — some great charm- 
 Some secret motive binds him to the spot — 
 
 He could not think that there was aught like harm 
 
 Where lovely Bertha dwelt " No, let me rot ! 
 
 (Cried the enamour^! chief) — let misery be my lot, 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 If ere I leave thee, beauteous, tender maid ! 
 
 No, though the massive gates were now to ope 
 And give me free egress, and if the blade. 
 
 If I neglected, with my neck should cope, 
 Yet could I not — I have not pow'r to fly — 
 
 I could not leave thee, angel of my heart ! 
 rd rather far within thy presence die. 
 
 And let the life-blood from my rent veins start, 
 Than with thy spotless charms, my only love, to part ! "
 
 48 RELVEDDER. canto ii. 
 
 XXV. 
 He'd been unus'd to courtesies of life — 
 
 From earliest youth he'd dwelt within the camp — 
 The fierce contention — echoing noise of strife — 
 
 The clashing sabre, and the cliarger''s tramp, 
 The drum's alarm, and hurried shouts of war. 
 
 Were his companions : — And his hours at home 
 Were spent in wandering thro' deep glens afar ; 
 
 Cer gloomy rocks where roaring waters foam, 
 And cataracts respond with tibulatcd moan. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 At times the woods would echo back the roar 
 
 Of his loud horn ; the earth resound the roll 
 Of ardent huntsmen as they quick did pour 
 
 O'er the rent trembling earth, whilst the wild howl 
 Of eager dogs died o^er the distant hills. — 
 
 In warlike sports at other times he"'d join; 
 The air would clang with noise of spears and bills ; 
 
 He lov'd to see the starting falchin shine. 
 And see the swift dart fly, and pierce the centre line 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Of the far target. — And such martial games 
 His mother strongly urged him to repeat ; 
 
 For she was one of those high-minded dames 
 Of noble blood, who did naught else but speak
 
 CANTO u. RELVEDDER. 49 
 
 Of deeds done by her sires — of her high birth — 
 Of battles fierce — maiFd knights and chivalry ; 
 
 And hourly sigh'd that there was such a dearth 
 Of gallant hearts — She spoke incessantly 
 Of what their race had done in conflicts o'er the sea. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 He had a sister, a dear lovely child ; 
 
 A smiling cherub, full of tenderness ; 
 He lov'd to gaze upon her sweet eyes mild, 
 
 And strain her to his bosom, and caress 
 In hours of relaxation. But a world 
 
 New and delightful now bursts to his view — 
 The flag of joy unto his mind's unfurl'd — 
 
 He'd seen a maid — a heav nly maid ! — the blue 
 Of whose bright tender eyes had pierc'd his bosom thro'. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Sweet interview succeeded interview — 
 
 They liv'd but for each other — ev'ry hour 
 That glided past did only more imbrue 
 
 Their souls in love's rich nectar, and did pour 
 Its sweet enchantment o'er them. — Pedro saw 
 
 With great surprise and pain their growing love ; 
 He tried to reason with them, but the law 
 
 Of nature had its course — he could not move 
 What was so firmly set, nor yet could to them prove 
 
 H
 
 50 IlELVEDDER. 
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 The danger great that did around them lay. 
 
 Alas ! his fault the good man saw too late. 
 " You will, good Father, (th' beauteous maid did say,) 
 
 Turn strife to peace, and heal this awful state 
 Of deadly feud — turn woe to smiling joy." 
 
 " And by our marriage (then exclaim'd the chief) 
 Laruto will acquire a friend who'd die. 
 
 And drain his dearest blood to give relief 
 To him or his, tho' lasting pain and bitter grief 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Should be the sole reward." — O'ercome by this, 
 
 The tender-hearted Pedro did consent 
 To join their hands in wedlock's state of bliss. 
 
 The lovers low before the old man bent, 
 And bath'd his feet with tears of love and joy. 
 
 He bless'd them both — he rais'd them from the ground, 
 And, as he gazed upon the maid, a sigh 
 
 Escap'd his anxious heart. — He look'd around. 
 But nothing met his eyes save dismal gloom profound. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 At night's dead hour, when all was hush'd and still, 
 And menials and retainers fast were bound 
 
 In deepest slumber — (When the lonely rill 
 In murmurs crept, broke by no other sound.
 
 cAKTo 11. RELVEDDER. 51 
 
 Save the dark rear-mouse with its leath'rn wiiiffs 
 Flapping the glass, thro' which the feeble light 
 
 In sickly glimmerings its frail radiance flings 
 
 Thro' night's deep shroud)— the solemn marriage rite, 
 In cautious whispers low broke on the pause of night. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 There might be seen Moranto's noble form, 
 
 With mantle rich thrown o'er his shoulders broad, 
 And blushing Bertha, lovely as the morn. 
 
 Giving her hand to him her heart adored. 
 She seem'd like ivy's tender, flaccid root 
 
 Clinging for succour to the lordly pine. 
 The flick'ring light did from the tapers shoot, 
 
 And on the rev'rend Father's face did shine : 
 Whilst thro' the vaults beneath in murmurs sigh'd the wind. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 • A length of time elapsed — months roll'd away 
 In sweet felicity, and naught appear'd 
 To mar their happiness, for all was gay 
 
 Within their pure and joyous hearts, nor fear'd 
 They aught in life save giving either pain. 
 
 Seated securely in the lofty halls 
 Of her great sires, contentment sweet did reign : 
 She never wish'd to stray beyond the walls — 
 Her heart had all it craved, with love it was enthrall'd.
 
 52 RELVP:DDER. canto u. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 And oil ! it was a lovely sight to sec 
 
 Her leaning on her noble husband's arm, 
 Pacing the ramparts, whilst sweet minstrelsy 
 
 From loud theorbos added to the charm 
 Of tranquil even ! — If at times he thought. 
 
 Or weary grew of such monotony, 
 Or wish'd for warfare, if he then but caught 
 
 A glimpse of her blue eye of modesty, 
 HeM press her to his heart, and all such thoughts would flee. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Summer had pass'd, and autumn's lovely hue, 
 
 So rich and glowing, mantled o'er the trees. 
 No cloud appeared to soil the speckless blue 
 
 In heaven''s high vault. — The sweet refreshing breeze 
 Sail'd softly by, and curl'd the silver lake. 
 
 Canorous birds piped forth their mellow strain 
 In sweetest harmony, and did awake 
 
 To life the slumbering echo, and the grain 
 Did sing its rustling note as if in joy it fain 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Would join great nature in her tuneful lyre. 
 
 On such an ev'ning, as Moranto walkM 
 With his sweet consort and the holy friar. 
 
 Upon the castle battlements, and talk'd
 
 CANTO 11. RELVEDDER. ' 53 
 
 Of hot campaigns, and former fields of fight, 
 A man stood by them, ghastly was his face ; 
 
 He shook with terror — " Fly, brave chief! — take flight ! 
 (He cried in trembling accents) — Do embrace 
 This opportunity. Laruto here doth race 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 With utmost speed, and at his heels a band 
 
 Of reckless mercenaries. — Fly, chief, fly ! 
 Quick, vanish hence ! Leave, leave this hated land ! 
 
 He says your head the castle-walls shall dye 
 With grumous blood — His soul's on fire with rage !"" 
 
 " I will not fly ! — I will confront the Don, 
 And claim my wife. — His anger FU assuage. 
 
 He will not harm his child — this lovely one ! 
 This tender flow'ret fair, on which he doted on !" 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 " That man's advice you'd better take. You well 
 
 The dreadful temper and the passions know 
 (Cried the old priest) that in his bosom swell. 
 
 Depend upon't 'twere better far to go — 
 Not only yours, but your sweet lady\s life 
 
 May martyrs fall to his malignant ire. 
 No pity knows his breast, but is most rife 
 
 With dark, revengeful, and malicious fire. 
 Remain not here, good Sir, to meet his curses dire."
 
 54 RELVEDDER. canto ti. 
 
 XL. 
 
 Flight — instant flight was then resolv'd upon, 
 
 And lovely Bertha did agree to fly ; 
 She, who had rarely o'er the threshold gone 
 
 Of the old castle, vow'd she'd rather die 
 Than stay behind her lord. — Two horses fleet 
 
 Were stationed at the lowly postern door : 
 A moment more, and their retreating feet 
 
 Roird heavily along the glebous floor. 
 Old Pedro gazed and gazed, as o'er the naked moor 
 
 XLI. 
 
 They took their rapid flight, until ihe gloom 
 
 Around them wrapp'd its shade, and they were lost 
 To the old Father's gaze — then to his room 
 
 He took his way. — No smiling face now cross'd 
 His solitary path — All now had fled ! — 
 
 His kind young mistress ! — All he lov'd on earth ! 
 He sorrow'd greatly, oft he wisli'd him dead : 
 
 A loneliness within his soul had birth — 
 A restlessness extreme — a solitude — a dearth. 
 
 XLIT. 
 
 'Twas well for them they had so quickly fled, 
 For ere the midnight hour the bugle horn 
 
 Of proud Laruto its loud windings shed. 
 
 And answ'ring echoes o'er the hills were borne.
 
 CANTO II. RELVEDDER. 55 
 
 He threw himself from off his reeking horse, 
 
 With sword in hand he stepp'd quick thro' the hall, 
 
 He seized the priest, and with a dreadful curse 
 Wav'd his huge sabre, and swore it should flill 
 With vengeance on his head — (It did his heart appal) — 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 If Bertha was not instantly produced. 
 
 Meanwhile the fugitives pursued their way, 
 O'er moor and dale, like volant birds that loos'd 
 
 Had been from their vile cage. — 'T^vas close of day, 
 The sun was sinking 'neath the lofty hills. 
 
 And shining sweetly on the distant seas. 
 The lakes were glist'ning, and the gliding rills 
 
 In robes of gold did chant their lullabies. 
 The charms of lovely eve gave to their bosoms ease. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Before them rais'd (in beauteous grandeur) high 
 
 Their tow'ring peaks the blue Italian mounts, 
 Smiling in beauty. — Through the lovely sky 
 
 A roseate hue was thrown — the bubbling founts, 
 Glowing with lustre, glided gaily o'er 
 
 Flosculous valleys — flow'ring myrtles shed 
 Their rich perfume, and purple vines did soar, 
 
 And rais'd their limber shoots above the bed 
 Of burnished streamlets rich that 'neath their clusters sped.
 
 gg RELVEDDER. canto ii. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 The deep blue ocean — beautiful — divine ! 
 
 Rose to their view in loveliness array'd ; 
 O'er its vast breast the sinking sun did shine, 
 
 With scarce form'd waves the amber streamers play'd ; 
 The light gondolas glided gaily on, 
 
 And gondoliers their sweet cantatas sung. 
 Until the orb behind the hills had gone, 
 
 And o'er the scene a silver garb was flung, 
 And sweetly sounding bells the ev'ning vespers rung. 
 
 XLVl. 
 
 A soothing zephyr o'er the landscape crept, 
 
 And danc'd and sported through the clustering bow'rs ; 
 O'er the grey rocks the crystal water leapt. 
 
 The spreading spray refresh'd the tender flow'rs ; 
 The slender trees were waving to and fro ; 
 
 The nightingale its mellow warblings cast ; 
 From skies above the ev'ning star did throw 
 
 Its modest beam — the moon was rising fast ; 
 The night was drawing on, pale eve was nearly past. 
 
 XLVII. 
 And as sweet Bertha gazed upon the scene 
 
 That rose before her — as her lovely eyes 
 Surveyed the wide expanse — tranquil — serene. 
 
 Her heart could not suppress the rising sighs.
 
 CAKTO Ti. RELVEDDER. 57 
 
 She rode close to Moranto — " Ah ! my love ! 
 
 How sweet "'twould be to dwell for ever here 
 In love and peace within this heav"'nly grove ! 
 To leave for aye the bitter world austere ! 
 From courts and camps afar and all their horrors drear !" 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 They wander'd on — the breeze had died away ; 
 
 The night was closing fast around the scene : 
 (Moranto to his beauteous bride did say,) 
 
 " I fear a storm is near, let's creep between 
 These jutting crags — Hark ! — heard'st thou not that 
 sound ? — 
 
 The low deep rumbling that now rolls afar ? — 
 Anon 'twill fly night's gloomy concave round : 
 
 No warning give they, and most dreadful are 
 To those who're "'neath their wrath, their desolating war. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 See ! now it nearer comes ! — Hark ! how the caves 
 
 Reverberate the muarient thunder's call 
 In rattling echoes, and the leaping waves, 
 
 So late in slumber deep, arise, then fall, 
 And lash the sounding shore. — How dark is all ! 
 
 Save where coruscant fire darts through the sky, 
 And lifts the shroud of night — then down the pall 
 
 Drops o'er the dismal scene — again doth fly 
 The streaming pallid flash in lurid meteors by." 
 
 I
 
 58 RELVEDDER. canto ii. 
 
 L. 
 
 Beneath the rocks the fugitives remained 
 
 The whole of that drear night, for fierce and loud 
 The storm continued — with the dawn it waned, 
 
 And brilliant sun-beams pierc'd the hanging cloud. 
 With morning light they took again their way. 
 
 Weary, depressM, and sinking with fatigue. 
 " Cheer up, sweet Bertha, keep thy heart, I pray : 
 
 See, yonder's smoke not more than half a league, 
 Tis from some peasant's hut, who will our wants relieve." 
 
 LI. 
 
 The words had scarcely reach'd her eager ear 
 
 Ere the quick tramping of a steed was heard, 
 And Don Laruto did behind appear 
 
 With rolling eyes, and froth upon his beard 
 From his hot mouth — His frame convuls'd with ire. 
 
 And with excitement trembling like a leaf. 
 " Turn, traitor ! coward ! robber ! turn !" — " Liar V 
 
 (Exclaim'd Moranto) " Draw — base dog ! be brief ! 
 Within thy hated heart my two-edg'd sword I'll sheath !"" 
 
 LII. 
 " Draw ! (cried Moranto) saidst thou ? — That Til do. — 
 
 Traitor ! coward ! — those words were never heard 
 By us without revenge."" — His falchin blue 
 
 Sprang from its scabbard as he spake the word,
 
 CANTO II. RELVEDDER. 59 
 
 Quick as the lightning from the thunder sky. 
 He wheel'd around to, where Laruto stood ; 
 He beckonM to his bride to quickly fly. 
 Surprise and fear had paralys'd her blood, 
 Her face was pale as snow, and from her eyes a flood 
 
 LIII. 
 Of tears rush'd down — She feebly utter'd — " Stay !" 
 
 She had not power to move. — On then they came 
 Like two great floods that meeting on their way 
 
 Contend for mastery — Their eyes were flame — 
 Their clashing swords re-echo'd thro"' the caves — 
 
 Thrust followed thrust, and stroke succeeded stroke — 
 Now on the sand, then plunging 'mongst the waves, 
 
 The horses headlong rush'd. — Their hearts were oak — 
 Save what their weapons made, no other noises broke 
 
 LIV. 
 
 On the still air, for all was peace around. 
 
 The horses shrunk beneath the furious blows. 
 Which fell with deep and heavy clangous sound 
 
 Upon the morion crowns — swiftly flows 
 The reeking sweat adown their heated brows, 
 
 And smothered curses from their lips escape. 
 At length by one great blow Moranto throws 
 
 Laruto to the earth — the blood-drops scape 
 From out the gaping gash — his firm-set frame did shake
 
 60 RELVEDDER. canto ii. 
 
 LV. 
 
 With death's dire throes, and awful roll'd his eye. 
 
 Down from his steed the pitying chieftan leapt, 
 And drew the bleeding prostrate warrior nigh ; 
 
 With tender sympathy his bosom wept. 
 He knelt him down to raise his fallen foe. 
 
 When oh ! base treachery I — detested deed ! 
 Laruto drew his dirk, and with a blow, 
 
 Deadly and sure, the noble spirit freed 
 Of brave Moranto from its house of clay ! — did bleed 
 
 LVI. 
 
 His tender lieart, in which the icy steel 
 
 Lay buried deep — aye ! to the golden guard ! 
 His eye-lids closed — he gave a sudden reel — 
 
 One plaintive moan — then fell upon the sward 
 A lifeless corse — " Die, hated villain ! die ! 
 
 (Exclaim'd Laruto, as his eye-balls roll'd 
 With gratified revenge) — the final sigh 
 
 Is now bereft of gall ■ — My foe of old 
 Hath felt my venom'd sting ! — and ghastly, pallid, cold, 
 
 LVII. 
 
 Now lies before me — unexpected joy 
 
 To triumph thus ! — Oh ! blessed day. 
 That brought thee 'neath my gripe — Oh ! hated boy !- 
 
 I die ! I die •' I die !" — The transient rav
 
 CANTO II. RELVEDDER. 61 
 
 That shot athwart his vision quickly fled — 
 
 His life had gone — his gory limbs grew cold — 
 
 And side by side upon the blood-stain\l bed 
 
 These warriors lay. — Hearts so brave and bold, 
 
 Such beauty, strength and grace, now naught but heap of 
 
 mould ! 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 During the conflict Bertha senseless lay — 
 
 She heard them not, nor knew the weight of woe 
 That had o''erwhelm\l her. — Now the deadly fray 
 
 Was o'er. — Around her form the blood did flow, 
 The precious blood of those she lov'd so dear, 
 
 Her husband's and her sire's — and yet no glow 
 Bespoke returning life — no sigh — no tear — 
 
 Nor anguished groan from her lone breast did flow — 
 Oblivion kind its vail did o'er her senses throw. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 A peasant wand'ring near the spot espied 
 
 The awful group — fright, horror, froze his blood ! 
 He cried for help — for help he loudly cried — 
 
 But no one came. — The glen, the caves, the wood, 
 Responded back the sound — then all was still. 
 
 He softly crept to where the lady lay — 
 " Oh ! what dark monster steePd his heart to kill 
 
 So much of beauty ! — and to close the day 
 For aye on that sweet form, and shroud the blessed ray
 
 62 RELVEDDER. canto ir. 
 
 LX. 
 
 That danc'd enraptur''cl round thy youthful life ? — 
 
 Oh ! dreadful villain ! whosoe'er thou be ! — 
 Feller than wolf. — Thy callous soul is rife 
 
 With hell's hot fire ! — But stay — ^Avhat's this I see ? — 
 By heav'n she stirs ! — Her lovely breast doth heave — 
 
 Life yet may be preservVl — I will her bear 
 To yon lone cottage — Oh ! my heart doth grieve 
 
 To see in such a state a form so fair ! 
 Some great mishap's been here, some heavy weight of care!" 
 
 LXI. 
 
 He raisM her in his arms and bore her on 
 
 Until he reach'd the peasant's low estate. 
 He told his tale — they thought her life was gone, 
 
 So ghastly seem'd she. — She was in a state 
 That needed instant aid. — There, in a hut. 
 
 Cheerless and low, I first beheld the lio-ht. 
 Alas ! alas ! my parent's heart-veins shut — 
 
 Her spotless spirit wing'd a)vay its flight 
 To join my honor'd sire in heaven's far regions bright ! 
 
 LXII. 
 
 The moon rose pale and sickly o'er the wave, 
 In plaintive murmurs waiFd the ocean wind 
 
 On that sad night, when to the cheerless grave 
 Their lov'd remains were silently consign'd.
 
 CANTO n. RELVEDDER. 63 
 
 I was convcy"'cl to Pedro"'s lonely cell, 
 
 He tended me with all a father's care 
 For eighteen years — till once, it so befell 
 I wander'd forth one day to court the air, 
 And in a thonghtful mood did to the shore repair. 
 
 LXIII. 
 From earliest youth I lov'd the wond'rous sea, 
 
 Its wide blue bosom charmed my soul to joy ; 
 The sparkling wavelets rising beautif'lly — 
 
 Their crystal crests — the wild and mournful cry 
 Of darting plover as they glided o'er 
 
 The tangled crags — the soothing lullaby 
 That fill'd the air and play'd around the shore ; 
 
 The ocean wind that gaily sported by, 
 With pleasure filFd my soul and rapt'rous ecstasy. 
 
 LXIV. 
 Immeasurable rocks I used to climb, 
 
 And sit for hours upon their rugged crest. 
 Gazing intently on the view sublime 
 
 That rose around. — The deep and golden west ; 
 The silver clouds that deckM the glowing sky. 
 
 And kiss'd the verge of far horizon wave ; 
 The lovely blending of the orange dye 
 
 With the pure blue — the billows' gentle heave 
 Dying in distance for — the sombre tangled cave ;
 
 04 RELVEDDER. canto u. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 The snow-white sea-bird flitting sloAvly by, 
 
 Skimming the foam, then rising high in air 
 On the light breezes, whilst the amber dye 
 
 Play\l on its fluttering wings and bosom fair. 
 These things delighted me — I lov'd to dwell 
 
 And ponder o'er them — Oft and oft I'd gaze, 
 Enrapt in thought, till night's dark curtain fell, 
 
 And sit, and sit, and watch the moon's pale rays 
 That shot athwart the sea, and pierc'd the gloomy haze. 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 And when dark tempests rose the angry deep, 
 
 And lurid meteors gleam'd and shot around 
 The frowning vault, and billows wild did leap, 
 
 Howling with fury from their sleep profound ; 
 When thunder-peals did through the glens resound, 
 
 And wild fowls, frighten'd, sought the gloomy cave, 
 I'd sit unmov'd, and list the awful sound. 
 
 Whilst o'er the waste the sweeping wind did rave. 
 And, like a lofty mount, roll'd by the roaring Avave. 
 
 LXVIl. 
 
 It so turn'd out, that on one sultry day. 
 
 When all was still, a thought came o'er my mind — 
 
 I'd often wished to take my lonely way 
 Across the waters — silent was the wind —
 
 CANTO II. RELVEDDER. 65 
 
 A soothing calm prevail'd, nor breath was there 
 To cause a ripple — all was in repose — 
 
 Sleeping in beauty. — Through the noiseless air 
 The huge brigander slowly onward goes, 
 And o'er the glassy deep its shriek discordant throws. 
 
 Lxvm. 
 
 I launch'd my boat, and put it forth to sea ; 
 
 The day was hot, intensely hot and calm : 
 Like sheet of crystal in its purity 
 
 Shone the clear water, and the soothing balm 
 From odoriferous shrubs that decFd the shore 
 
 Hung sweetly on the air. — I wishVl to view 
 The far off headlands"" tow'ring summits hoar 
 
 Behind the billows sink, and see the blue, 
 The lovely ocean blue, kiss the light clouds that flew 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 Rejoicing o'^er the pale horizon's rim. 
 
 Then sinking low beneath the milky line. 
 Obscure and misty — delicate and dim, 
 
 That mark'd the boundary of the spacious brine, 
 Glowing with clarity, glist'ning with tint, 
 
 Blue, amber, purple, violet and green, 
 And all their sweet gradations to the brink 
 
 Of the wide prospect, and the freshness sheen, 
 And harmony sublime with which the whole did teem. 
 
 K
 
 66 RELVEDDER. canto it. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 I had not long been absent from tlie sliore 
 
 Ere I perceiv'd tlie brightness wear away ; 
 Dense wreaths of mist around the sky did soar, 
 
 And slowly rose vast sheets of vapour grey. 
 Far out at sea appeared a creeping haze, 
 
 In which Avere cloth'd the distant hills and sky, 
 And, as I on the fog-wrapp'd scene did gaze, 
 
 I felt assur'd that when the sun rose high 
 'Twould all dissolve away — so vigorously did ply 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 I at the oar. — So on, and on, I row'd ; 
 
 But though the land appcar'd to grow more pale, 
 And o'er the scene was cast a misty shroud. 
 
 Yet did it seem that after two hours' sail 
 Fd made small progress towVds my journey's end. 
 
 I still could see the line of glitt''ring spray 
 Which the light wind in glist'ning streaks did send 
 
 Along the far off beach — and see the play 
 Of sporting wavelets light o'er clust'ring sea-rocks grey. 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 Large groups of clouds came trailing slowly o'er 
 The distant hills, their dense and heavy fold 
 
 Crept o'er the sun. — The mist more thick did low'r. 
 I started up — about my eye-balls rollM —
 
 CANTO II. RELVEDUER. 67 
 
 I dropp'd tlie oars — there was no sign of storm — 
 A painful stillness reign'd — I heard no sound 
 
 Save the slight ripple 'gainst the light skiff borne 
 Of the green water as t resistance found, 
 And past the glossy side in graceful curls did bound. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 The safest course, I thought, was now to turn ; 
 
 But scarcely had I wheeFd the boat about, 
 Ere a light gale sprang up — my heart did yearn — 
 
 A fear came over me — an awful doubt 
 Kept stealing through my brain. — The springing breeze 
 
 Around me cast the dripping ocean mist 
 Like show'rs of snow — my blood began to freeze — 
 
 I knew not what to think. Could I have miss'd 
 The jutting point of land ? — Great God! — I stood aghast ! 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 I caught a glimpse of far off distant shore, 
 
 But only f(jr a moment — clouds of fog 
 Roll'd up astern, and it was seen no more. 
 
 There then I lay, my boat a helpless log. 
 I plied, and plied, and labourM at the oar. 
 
 A terror fill'd mv heart, forebodings fell 
 Crept o'er my soul. — The sweat-drops quick did pour 
 
 Down my flusird face — the grating screamings fell 
 Of the wild sea- fowl on my list'ning ear, a knell !
 
 68 RELVEDDER. canto ii. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 For three long hours I tugg'd, and tugg'd, in vain ; 
 
 Nor land, nor rock, appear'd to cheer my view ; 
 Around the waste my anxious eyes I'd strain, 
 
 Through the dense vapour quick their glances flew. 
 Accumulating horrors filPd my soul ; 
 
 A dreadful fear kept strength''ning in my heart : 
 Should Boreas Avake, and wild Avith fury roll 
 
 Through the high concave — should the billows start — 
 Oh ! horrifying thought ! — my soul within was dark ! — 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 I had no compass, nor knew I how far 
 
 I might be from the wish'd for blessed land : 
 No beacon gleam'd — no sound — no palendar 
 Shot near my lonely path — the awful hand 
 Of death, I fear'd, hung o"'er my helpless head ; 
 
 A ling'ring death by famine fill'd my soul : 
 Oh ! anguish great ! — The roaring ocean bed 
 To wrap my youthful limbs, and hoarsely growl 
 'Neath howling tempest's rage, and thunder's lengthen"'d 
 howl ! 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 No op'ning seem'd in view — all cheerless blank — 
 Heavy and dull, through which appear'd no ray 
 
 Or bright'ning gleam to pierce the vapour dank 
 That roll'd in columns o'er the feath'ry spray.
 
 CANTO II. RELVEDDER. 69 
 
 Oh ! wliat a joy to then have heard the sound 
 Of distant bell — of bleating sheep — or cry 
 
 Of aught to break the dreadful pause profound, 
 And tell that life was near ! — Alone to die. 
 And sink amongst the rocks with no kind being by ! 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 To have my grave beneath the ocean foam ! 
 
 To have my death-note gurgled by the waves ! 
 My requiem dirge the wind*'s low plaintive moan 
 
 Responding faintly through the shell-girt caves ! 
 So young to leave the world with all its joy ! 
 
 The brilliant hopes — anticipations sweet — 
 And all the ecstasies that crowding fly 
 
 Through the young heart ! — Thus helplessly to meet 
 The awful phantom death ! — The waves my winding sheet! 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 Night's pitchy robe fell down — a starless night, 
 
 Dismal and drear — light drizzly rain-drops fell. — 
 Moaning and sad the gath'ring wind took flight 
 
 O'er the dark water. — Oh ■ what woe did dwell 
 Within my aching heart ! — At length the ray. 
 
 The pallid morning ray crept through the air — 
 Oh ! with what joy I hail'd the op'ning day • 
 
 Alas ! alas ! the silver concave fair 
 Redoubled anguish brought — Hope vanished — Dark despair
 
 70 RELVEDDER. canto ii. 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 Upon my heart let fall its witli'ring blight ! 
 
 Naught met my gaze save hanging cloud and sea ! 
 The waters kiss'd the far horizon bright — 
 
 Around the waste no object could I see — 
 No distant land — no vessel held its way 
 
 Through the drear wilderness. — A silence dwelt 
 Dreadful and awful. Billows past did play. 
 
 As if in mock'ry of the woe I felt. 
 My heart sank in my breast, and to my God I knelt ! 
 
 LXXXl. 
 
 The sun burst through the clouds — oppressive — hot — 
 
 Hungry, faint, parch\l up with burning thirst 
 I laid me down to die !— Oh ! heavy lot ! — 
 
 The whole of that long day at mercy toss'd 
 Of the wild waves, I helpless, fainting lay ! — 
 
 Again the night set in. The moon arose, 
 Placid and mild, and took her lonely way 
 
 Through the blue heav'n — hush d in deep repose 
 Lay the smooth ocean's breast. The trembling crystal ray 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 Shot sweetly o'er the deep cerulean sky. 
 
 Tranquil and calm was all — Ah ! contrast great 
 Between the slumb'ring ocean, night and I ' 
 
 How oft I've gazed on thee, pale Cynthia sweet,
 
 CANTO IT. RELVEDDER. 71 
 
 And mark'd thy glisfning streamers deck the sea ! 
 
 How have I joy'd to see you form, dark wave ! 
 And little thought, alas ! that thou would'st be 
 
 The tyrant fell to hurl me to the grave, 
 With no dear heart me near, nor kindly hand to save I 
 
 LXXXIIl. 
 
 Such thoughts as these kept stealing o'er my mind — 
 
 A kind of stupor crept throughout my frame — 
 Naught met my ear save sighing of the wind, 
 
 Which in low whispers o'er the billow came. 
 Lethargy came o''er me — A kind of trance 
 
 Hung o'er my faculties — I fell to sleep — 
 How long I know not — When I woke my glance 
 
 Encounter'd objects new — My heart did leap. 
 And danc'd about with joy — Where was the sickening deep ? 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 The tiny boat in which I'd been so long ? 
 
 The sky ? the moon ? the mist ? the starlets brio-ht ? 
 A thousand thoughts did to my bosom throng ; 
 
 And round, and round, I strain'd my wond'ring sif>-ht. 
 At length the truth came creeping to my brain ; 
 
 Surrounding objects plainly told me now 
 Within some vessel's cabin I was lain ; 
 
 I heard the flapping sails — the piercing flow 
 Of the shrill boatswain's pipe, and seamen down below.
 
 72 RELVEDDER. canto it. 
 
 LXXXV, 
 
 And then the sailors crowded round my bed, 
 
 Rejoie'd and glad. — They thought I'd ne'er revive — 
 They'd gi'en up hope — At times they thought me dead — 
 
 They wonder'd much to see me now alive. 
 They'd seen me drifting helpless down the sea — 
 
 They pick'd me up, and tended me with care. 
 What transports fill'd my soul to think I free 
 
 Was from the smoth'ring wave — from fell despair. 
 And all the dangers dire that floated through the air •' 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 The ship was bound to far off Eastern clime — 
 
 Compell'd I was with them to take my way 
 O'er the wide water, to that land divine. 
 
 I was enraptuT'd, sweetest thoughts did play, 
 And sported in my mind. — My dearest wish 
 
 Would now be gratified — To cross the deep. 
 The vast and mighty deep ! — so bright — so fresh — 
 
 So pure — so blue •' and see the billows leap, 
 And raise their glist'ning forms, and lash the tow'ring peak 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 Of some great rock which from the ocean bed 
 Peep'd scornful forth, frowning in gloomy might. 
 
 To mark the coral reefs (beauteous and red, 
 
 Bedeck'd with pearls, and shells, and glitt'ring bright
 
 CANTO H. RELVEDDER. 73 
 
 With purest crystal — precious gems that gleam 
 
 'Mongst sombre sea-plants, feather'd o'er with spray) 
 Shoot their rich branches through the pale green stream, 
 Like crimson streamer resting on the gray 
 Of the pure op'ning morn, contrasted beautifully ! 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 To see the sun go down beyond the brine, 
 
 And sink to rest, and vanish from the sight, 
 Bedeck'd with glory — heavenly ! — divine ! — 
 
 The wide horizon — Hanging cloudlets bright, 
 Burnish'd with gold — their deep and purple fold 
 
 Reflected sweetly in the glassy sea. 
 Their glowing tints mix'd with the ocean's cold, 
 
 Glitt'ring in beauty — rich in harmony ! 
 Then vanishing away — dying imperceptibly ! 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 To mark night's dusky gloom creep o'er the main, 
 
 And cast a shadow o''er the beaming sky. 
 And see Diana hold her noiseless rei^n 
 
 (Ter the wide scene, and see the dark clouds fly 
 Athwart her silver bosom, then sink low, 
 
 And mix, and join the heavy shade that lays 
 Upon the distant wave, and see below. 
 
 Kissing the water's edge, the gleaming rays 
 Of setting ev'ning star, just peering through the haze. 
 
 L
 
 74 RELVEDDER. canto ii. 
 
 XC. 
 
 Time wore away — at length the distant land 
 
 Rose to my view. — Oh •' how my heart did bound 
 At sight of cities vast — Huge buildings grand — 
 
 Great temples — Mosques — the deep and humming 
 sound 
 Of busy men — the splendid merchandise — 
 
 The dusky camels wending on their way — 
 The deep-toned cadence of the venders' cries — 
 
 The sun — The brilliant sky — The spacious bay, 
 And myriads of barks upon the wavelet gray, 
 
 xci. 
 
 Struck with delight and joy my wond'ring eyes ! — 
 
 One scorching day, when sultry winds did blow. 
 And wastes of sand in lofty mounts did rise. 
 
 And in round eddies whirl'd, and the bright glow, 
 Burning and fierce, shot from the glaring sun, 
 
 I wander'd forth in contemplation lost — 
 In thought, and deep reflection, and begun 
 
 To take my way along a path that cross'd 
 The tangled margin of a stream, o'er which were toss'd 
 
 XCII. 
 
 The burning grains, borne by the sweeping gale. 
 Like show'rs of golden dust. — The air was hot, 
 
 On which, the stinging, nettling flies did sail. 
 And in dense multitudes around me shot.
 
 CANTO ir. RELVEDDER. 75 
 
 I journey'd on until I reacliM a wood, 
 
 'Neath which I enter'd, and there laid me down 
 
 Beneath some palm-trees, by a gliding flood ; 
 
 The wild wind whistled "'mongst the foliage brown. 
 O'er which moschettos biizz'd and hover'd round and round. 
 
 XCIII. 
 The large, broad shadow of the forest trees 
 
 Screen'd from the spot the sun's o'erpow'ring beam : 
 I felt oppressed, and sank by slow degrees 
 
 Into a sleep — but soon awoke — a scream, 
 As of distress fell on my listening ear : 
 
 I started up, and gaz'd around the scene ; 
 And 'neath some tow'ring cedars did appear 
 
 A man hard struggling 'mongst the brushwood green 
 In a wild Arab's grasp, whose crooked sabre sheen 
 
 XCIV. 
 
 Wav'd high in air, as if about to drop 
 
 With deadly might upon his helpless head : 
 I drew my sword, and glided to the spot ; 
 
 But ere I rcach'd, the Arab quickly fled, 
 Scarce^ by my presence. — I approach'd the man, 
 
 But ere we'd time to speak, we heard a noise. 
 As of a troop of horsemen. — 'Twas a clan 
 
 Of his fierce comrades. — Rise, I cried — arise ! 
 And mount the Arab's horse — If thou remain'st thou dies !
 
 70 RELVEDDER. canto ir. 
 
 xcv. 
 
 He started, follow'd my advice, and fled 
 
 Swift as the wind upon the noble steed. 
 I screen'd myself behind a shaded bed 
 
 Of broad-leav"'d shrubs, o'er which the reed 
 RearM up its tall and limber shoots, and saw 
 
 The wild and ruthless troop bound swiftly by : 
 They mark"'d me not, but gallop'd past the shaw ; 
 
 In the far distance did their footsteps die, 
 As o'er the trembling earth they rush'd impetuously.
 
 RELVEDDER. 
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 I. ► 
 
 A MANY moons elaps'd, and found me still 
 
 Beneath the eastern sun. — Fell gales of pest 
 Swept o'er the land, and did my bosom fill 
 
 With apprehension — fearful was I lest 
 Its breath mortif 'rous should upon me fall. 
 
 Oh ! how I long'd once more to feel the breeze 
 Of my own country, and to hear the call 
 
 Of lovely warblers "'mongst the flowVing trees ; 
 To view again the lakes — pure rivulets, and seas. 
 
 ri. 
 
 I thought of scenes through which I used to wander 
 In early youth, as light as bounding roe ; 
 
 Of daisied lawns, thro' which sweet streams meander ; 
 Of secret dells where modest flow'rets blow ;
 
 CANTO III. RKLVEDDER. 79 
 
 Of soaring sky-lark o'er the landscape singing, 
 And blithely mounting through the crystal skies ; 
 
 Of glowing bow'rs their balmy fragrance flinging 
 From op'ning blooms of richest, purest dyes. 
 And music's soothing strains which thro* the mild air flies. 
 
 III. 
 
 Of gentle moon, and starlets sweetly peeping 
 
 From night''s dark curtain o'er the slumb^'ing sea, 
 Of glassy lakes in golden beauty sleeping ; 
 
 Of fountains bright and plaintive lullaby. 
 Such thoughts as these were to my bosom thronging — 
 
 Oh ! contrast great to this dry burning land ; 
 To leave its shores my sicken 'd heart was longing, 
 
 W here horrors reign, and vasty wastes of sand 
 With headlong fury rush, and to the skies ascend. 
 
 IV. 
 
 I'd ta'en my passage in a vessel bound 
 
 From this dire climate to my native land : 
 All was prepared — I hop'd ere morning dawn'd 
 
 The spacious sails would to the gale expand. 
 The day'd been dreadful hot, and when the eve 
 
 Hung roimd her mantle o'er the scorching ground, 
 I wander"'d forth my senses to relieve 
 
 Without the gloomy walls, and there I found 
 A man at point of death — his life-blood flow"'d around
 
 so RELVEDDER. canto hi. 
 
 V. 
 
 From a deep sword gash. — I approacli'd him nigh — 
 
 1 rais'd him up, and tried to stanch the blood ; 
 He gave one groan, and in my arms did die — 
 
 I knew not what to think — I gaz'd — I stood 
 Mute as a statue, hanging o''er the corse. 
 
 Just then some guards appear'd, and bore me down ; 
 They tied me hand and foot, and to a horse 
 
 Bound me with straps, and journey'd to the town, 
 And drew their sabres out, and with a savage frown 
 
 VI. 
 
 Call'd me a murderer ! — In a deep cell, 
 
 Loathsome and vile, they hurl'd me headlong down ; 
 Where cold and cheerless night did ever dwell ; 
 
 Dank were the mouWring walls, coarse andrough hewn ; 
 A smoth'ring heat was rolling through the gloom. 
 
 I scarce could breathe — and noxious insects crept. 
 And stung my blisterM flesh — Oh ! bitter doom ! 
 
 Oh ! horrid fate ! — My heart with horror leapt — 
 I flung me on the earth, and bitterly I wept. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Upon the morn they dragg'd me from my cell. 
 Loaded with chains, unto the great divan ; 
 
 Oh ! judge what horror in my heart did swell, 
 When from the lips of hated mussulman
 
 CANTO iTi. relvrddp:r. 5^1 
 
 Issued these words — " Soon as the morning- sun 
 
 Shall lift its disk above the ocean''s bed, 
 Your earthly pilgrimage will then be run : 
 The gleaming scimitar shall take the head 
 From off your body, for the hapless man thafs dead 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Was put to death by that vile Christian hand ! 
 
 Upon a tree your hated form shall hang, 
 Far in the waste, above the desart's sand ; 
 
 The fell simoom shall waft the rattlingf clansr 
 Of chains that wrap thy limbs — The ossifrage 
 
 Shall tear thy pallid flesh, and howling storm 
 Above thv head shall dreadful warfare wasfe. 
 
 And roll about thy ghastly mould'ring form. 
 Conduct him to his cell, and see he dies at morn." 
 
 IX. 
 
 Again they forced me to the hated vault ; 
 
 I saw the grating door shut out the light ; 
 Retreating footsteps on my ear I caughi, 
 
 As they ascended up the winding flight 
 Of damp stone steps. — My life-blood nearly froze ; 
 
 The whole appear'd like some horrific dream. 
 Oh, Christ ! my blood to stain the block ! — What throes ! 
 
 What dreadful agony within did teem! 
 Around my hapless heart roU'd woes, a mighty stream ! 
 
 M
 
 82 RELVEDDER. canto hi. 
 
 X. 
 
 Why did I scape the terrors of the sea ? 
 
 Oh ! that Pd perish'd 'neath the mighty wave ! 
 Why came the ship to where I fainting lay ? 
 
 Why were their hands stretch'd out my life to save ? 
 Thus to be left, far from my friends — my home — 
 
 To perish 'neath the savage vengeful hand 
 Of cruel pagan ! — Helplessly to moan ! 
 
 My ancient name with infamy to brand ! 
 Oh •' horror ■' horror great ! My mind could scarce withstand 
 
 xr. 
 
 The dreadful shock ! — To leave for aye the earth ! 
 
 Ingloriously to die ! and for the guilt 
 Of some dark murderer ! — Why had I birth ? — 
 
 Oh •' that in battle I my blood had spilt, 
 Like my brave ancestors ! — Oh ! that the flash 
 
 Of heaven's hot fire had wither'd up my heart ! — • 
 Oft have I stood and heard the awful crash 
 
 Of falling thunder-bolts — I've seen rocks part 
 Struck by the pointed flame, and yet remain'd unhurt. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Why o'er my head did harmless sweep the blast. 
 The with-ring blast of pest ? — To perish here !— 
 
 Within death's gripe unthinkingly I'm cast. 
 With no kind priest my latent hour to cheer •'"
 
 CANTO III. RELVEDDER. S3 
 
 That night's dark horrors I shall ne'er forget ! 
 
 Derangement oft intruded on my brain. 
 I sought around some implement to get 
 
 To take my life and close my mortal reign — 
 Alas ! my aching limbs were bound with heavy chain ! 
 
 XIII. 
 
 I heard the muffled drum proclaim the hour, 
 
 Solemn and slow it seem'd to beat my knell : 
 What dreadful feelings to my soul did pour 
 
 As the deep tone roll'd through the dismal cell ! 
 I heard the cry of sentinels afar, 
 
 From distant posts, borne on the midnight wind ; 
 Upon my ear in discord did they jar : 
 
 No hope came near the hapless wretch who pin'd ; 
 Pent up a captive vile, with wretchedness entwin'd. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 The morning came, and then the creeking bars 
 
 Fell rattling down, and open flew the door ; 
 In rush'd the guards, their naked scimitars 
 
 Flash'd o'er my head — The Turk — the sable Moor — 
 Than Indian snakes more terrible they seem'd ' 
 
 They dragg'd me forth into the open air ; 
 Their piercing eyes with fiendish pleasure gleam'd 
 
 At my deep anguish, and around did stare 
 The gaudy multitude enjoying my despair.
 
 ^4 RELVtlJDKR. cAMoiii. 
 
 XV.* 
 
 And when I'd reach'd the horrid scaffold foot, 
 
 And laid my head upon the fatal block, 
 And the dark savage was about to cut 
 
 My trembling flesh, a voice cried loudly — " Stop !" 
 I turn'd me round, and saw amongst the crowd 
 
 The man I'd rescued in the neighboring wood 
 From the wild Arab — Mutes in silence bow'd ; 
 
 He seem'd to hold high rank, and down a flood 
 Of tears rush'd from his eyes at these sad tools of blood. 
 
 XVI. 
 He stood aghast — the dye forsook his cheek — 
 
 " What means this outrage ? — Who (he cried) did dare 
 To bring this Christian here ? — Speak, slaves ! — speak !" 
 
 When told the case, he said he would repair 
 To the great Soldan ; and when he return'd, 
 
 He orders gave to bear me to the cell. 
 Oh! how my heart with gratitude then burn'd ! 
 
 Sweet hope again within my soul did dwell — 
 From instant death repriev'd, and executioner fell. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 The dreadful hours had slowly roll'd away, 
 Silent and sad, in horror, doubt and fear ; 
 
 When at the close of that long, wretched day. 
 When hope had fled, and sorrow's bitter tear
 
 CANTO III. RELVEUUER. 85 
 
 Ran down my cheek — the door was open'd wide, 
 And in my cell the gentle stranger stept 
 
 Who'd saved rae from the sword — To rise I tried, 
 But could not — on the earth I fell, and wept 
 With gratitude and joy, and to his feet I crept, 
 
 xviir. 
 And bath'd them with a heartfelt, briny stream. 
 
 " Relate to me the whole — How stands the case ?" 
 He could not think, he said, I'd guilty been 
 
 Of such an awful crime — " Do not debase 
 My spotless name with such appalling thought ! 
 
 I'm free of all, save wish to lend him aid. 
 Alas ! alas ! my sympathy's been bought 
 
 With bitter tears of blood ! — Hadst thou not stay'd 
 The misled pagan's hand, the drear and heavy shade 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Of awful death had now been o'er me cast !" — 
 
 " It joys my soul to hear thou'rt free from guilt ; 
 Within my heart I knew at first thou wast. 
 
 The dark assassin who this life-blood spilt 
 Will be, I doubt not, soon to justice brought : 
 
 Till then, thou must remain a captive here ; 
 So take it not to heart — and let not auffht 
 
 Disturb thy hours, nor for a moment fear 
 I'll e'er forget the man who saved my life so dear." —
 
 i^ RELVEDDER. canto hi. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Two long and tedious years had sped away, 
 
 During which time he oft did on me call ; 
 Had it not been for him I'd fall'n a prey 
 
 To devastating death, and 'neath the wall, 
 The damp and mould 'ring wall, my limbs had laid 
 
 In vile corruption — Friendship grew and grew. 
 And wonder not, though diff'rently we pray'd, 
 
 That love so pure should rise — our hearts were true : 
 In soothing converse sweet the gliding moments flew. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 One night, when gloom sat heavy on my brow, 
 
 And bitter thoughts were creeping through my mind 
 In gath'ring numbers, and the weight of woe 
 
 Sank through my soul — my dear companion kind, 
 To while the hours, began to give account 
 
 Of all that had befell him during life. 
 I much was pleased, and bid him to recount 
 
 Particularly each act, whether 'twas rife 
 With interest or not, peace, happiness, or strife. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Thus then he spake : — " I am the only son 
 Of Stallimer, that brave and warlike chief 
 
 Belov'd of all ; who, when fierce foes o'errun 
 
 Our much-lov'd spacious shores, and thought to steep
 
 CANTO III. RELVEDDER. 87 
 
 Their wreakfiil hands deep in our country's blood, 
 Collected round his wild and gallant men, 
 
 And, like a thund'ring and impetuous flood. 
 Or roaring lions bouncing from their den, 
 Rush'd on their haughty ranks, whilst cries of koran I koran ! 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Re-echo'd round, and cleft the sweltry air. 
 
 I follow'd him rejoicing to the war ; 
 My heart beat high — I wish'd with him to share 
 
 The joys of triumph — Oh ! I lov'd the jar 
 Of clashing sabres, and to hear the roar. 
 
 The hurried shout, and heavy rolling sound 
 Which through the sanguine field did loudly pour. 
 
 Whilst smoking steeds did madly onward bound. 
 With flashing spears pois'd high, inflicting death around. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 I was elected to the sole command 
 
 Of a bold company — determined — brave — 
 Savage as tiger, in whose tawny hand 
 
 The sword was terrible ! — Wild as the wave ! — 
 The Soldan oft review'd the miffhtv host 
 
 That rose around his country to defend 
 'Gainst the proud tyrants who had now encroach 'd 
 
 Our much-lov'd shores. — We stood prepar'd to fend. 
 And meet with hot repulse the ills that did impend.
 
 88 RRLVKDDER. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 fANIO UI. 
 
 One scorching day, when blew the burning blast, 
 
 And through the air were scattered wastes of sand, 
 And Arab bands and camels deep were cast 
 
 Beneath the smoth'ring grains — When naught could 
 stand 
 The desert billows, and the whirlwinds fierce, 
 
 I wander'd forth in contemplation sunk. 
 And took a beaten track — The sun did pierce 
 
 And burn my blister'd flesh — My strong frame shrunk 
 Beneath the dreadful heat, and 'neath the reeds the crunk 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Of birds crept forth that sheltered from the beam. 
 
 Through the thick air a sickly vapour flew, 
 On which dense multitudes of flies did stream, 
 
 Around the scene their droning music blew. 
 The blood within my swelling veins did boil ; 
 
 My eyes were heavy with inclement heat ; 
 Sibilant snakes amongst the grass did coil : 
 
 Oh ! how I long'd some stream my eyes would greet. 
 To slake my burning thirst with limpid water sweet. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Such heat as this Fd never felt before ; 
 
 It overcame me quite, though 'neath the clime 
 My first breath I had drawn. — The sweat did pour 
 
 Adown my face — A stillness reign'd — No chime,
 
 CANTO III. IIELVEDDER. 89 
 
 Or soothing sound apprnacli'd mine ear — at length, 
 
 When winding round a parch'd-up mountain's side, 
 And near a brook deprived of all its strength, 
 And whose slow waters scarcely seem'd to glide. 
 Within the vale below a simple hut I spied. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Tliither I sped — but ere I reachM the door 
 
 I started back surpris^l, for on a bed 
 Of rich and sparkling moss, within a bow'r, 
 
 Whose glowing flow'rs their fragrant odour shed 
 O'er the light stream — a maiden slumb'ring lay, 
 
 Beamino- with loveliness. — Two female slaves 
 Were fannino: swarms of stinofino- flies awav 
 
 From her round bosom, which, like two light waves, 
 In beauty rose and fell with captivating heaves. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 I stood and gaz'd enraptur'd at the sight — 
 
 So much of beauty I'd ne'er seen before — 
 Fatigue departed — languor left me quite 
 
 At this sweet object, and I bended o'er 
 Her beauteous form, and gaz'd, and gaz'd, and gaz'd. 
 
 A thrilling transport I'ush'd throughout my frame ; 
 The fire of love within mv bosom blaz'd : 
 
 I marvell'd much from whence the maiden came — 
 This paragon of love that did my soul enchain. ' 
 
 N
 
 90 llELVEDDER. canto in. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Her teeth were purer than the sheets of snow 
 
 That on the northern hills unruffl'd lies 
 Fresh from high heav'n ! — The lovely crimson glow 
 
 Of deep carnation, or bright coral dyes, 
 Shone not more beautiful than did the tint 
 
 That deck'd her moisten'd lips ! — Her timid breath 
 Swell'd her sweet breast, on which I long'd to sink, 
 
 And with a blissful murmur sink to death. 
 And sigh away my soul, in one fond, wild caress ! 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 At length her eye-lids oped — Oh ! sun and moon ! 
 
 What rapture fill'd my dancing heart ! — Her eyes. 
 Black as the raven's deep and polisli'd plume. 
 
 On me shot forth their beam ! — With tender sighs 
 My love-struck bosom heav'd — I bow'd my head — 
 
 The pow'r of speech had flown — She on me gazed, 
 Then turning round, quick to the hut she fled, 
 
 Like startled timid roe — wondering, amazed— 
 Whilst my round starting orbs in disappointment blazed. 
 
 xxxii. 
 
 Immortal Alia ' — What a heav'nly form ! 
 
 I scarcely dared to breathe — utterance had flown — 
 My heart beat violently — Love's dart was borne 
 
 Swift to my throbbing breast — I threw me down
 
 CANTO iH. RELVEDDLR. 91 
 
 Upon the bank lier lovely limbs had pressM ; 
 Long did I lie entrane'd upon the ground ; 
 The turf I kiss'd — the blooming flow''rs caressM ; 
 Then would I rise, and cast my eyes around, 
 But nothing met my view — no charming sight, nor sound, 
 
 XXXIIl. 
 
 To speak of her that to my soul was dear. 
 
 At length the ev'ning haze began to low'r : 
 The parchM earth sparkled with the dewy tear 
 
 That deckM with limpid drops each grateful flow^- : 
 Delightful airs began to creep around, 
 
 Those sweet enliv''ners of the burning east ; 
 The water had the soothing zephyr found, 
 
 And rippled 'neath the gust — The glow had ceased. 
 And choristers rejoiced, from smoth'ring heat released. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 The tann'd boughs waved beneath the balmy gale ; 
 
 The clustVing palms and cedars sang aloud ; 
 The rich perfume the senses did inhale 
 
 That sweetly hung upon the ev'ning shroud. 
 I fix'd my eyes upon the cottage door 
 
 In which my doting heart did lay enshrin\l — 
 Alia ! what transports to my soul did pour ! 
 
 The gate oped wide — this smiling angel kind 
 With the two slaves came forth to breathe the ev'ning wind.
 
 92 RELVEDDEK. canto iit. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 The goddess of my ardent dreams appear'd — 
 
 I rais'd myself from off the deAvy ground ; 
 I gazed in silent joy, and as she near'd 
 
 Her garments light waved in the breeze around, 
 And show'd such sweetness, symmetry, and love, 
 
 That, struck with admiration, down, I fell. 
 In adoration deep. — The gentle dove 
 
 Bent low and rais'd me up — Oh ! what a swell 
 Of rapturous pleasure ran throughout my veins ! — A spell 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Crept over me — Her touch thrill 'd to my heart •' 
 
 I press'd her tiny fingers to my lip. 
 " Nay, frown not on me — do not from me start — 
 
 For harder than the rock on which the ship 
 Beats her firm timbers till they part in tw^ain. 
 
 Than all-resisting, firm, asbestos stone, 
 Which stands uninjured 'midst the roaring flame, 
 
 Than howling tempest scoffing at the groan 
 Of hapless sailor, is the heart that doth not own 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 And melt before those fascinating eyes ! — 
 Oh ! let meek pity swell that gentle breast, 
 
 For I adore thee ! — List unto mv siohs ! 
 
 Do not, sweet maid, mv anxious heart divest
 
 CANTO Til. RELVEDDER. 93 
 
 Of beaming hope ! — Oli ! I for thee could die ! 
 
 My beating heart's live sanguine stream should flow, 
 And soak the spongy turf ! — My sword should fly 
 From out its quivering sheath hot on the foe, 
 With terrible effect who dared to cause one throe 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 To that mild gentle heart ! — For thee Fd front 
 
 The famish'd tigress in her den of gloom, 
 Growling o'er hungry cubs, and would affront 
 The shaggy lion when with dreadful boom 
 At night's drear hour he scours the breezeless wood ! 
 
 For thou art purer than the myrtle flow'r 
 That glistens sweetly o"'er the silver flood 
 In spotless beauty ! — Than the spicy bow'r 
 That throws its fragrance round the beauteous neighbour- 
 hood !" 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 A smile play'd o'er her dimpled, blooming cheek — 
 
 I clasp'd her tender hands within mine own ; 
 With ecstasy I thought my heart would break ; 
 
 From her sweet eyes a round tear trickled down. 
 About she was to speak, when a loud voice 
 
 Cried out " Jurdina i" — from within the dell — 
 She quick withdrew her hand — she sigh'd — and twice 
 
 In low sweet Avhispers, warbled out — " Farewell ! 
 Stranger, adieu • adieu ! — May peace within thee dwell !"
 
 94 RELVEDDER. cam., hi. 
 
 XL. 
 
 Again the voice came rolling to our ear, 
 
 Again she strove to leave my fond embrace ; 
 " Adieu ! (she cried) a day perhaps is near 
 
 When we may meet again."" — " Oh ! for such grace 
 May Alia showV his blessings on thy head, 
 
 Oh ! lovely daughter of this beauteous land !" 
 Her sparkling eyes such loving lustre shed. 
 
 That, as if urged by some kind fairy"'s wand. 
 My lips to hers I joined — Our breath did sweetly blend. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 " Adieu !" (she cried) — and glided from my sight. 
 
 Like a bright sun-beam had she fled away ; 
 Light as the zephyr 'neath the moon-beam bright, 
 
 Which dances sweetly o'er the ocean spray. 
 Again I sank upon the glebous ground ; 
 
 'Twere worse than death to me to leave the cot : 
 A moment seem'd an age — Suspense profound 
 
 Absorbed iny soul — My eyes survey'd the spot — 
 They met not there their love— I cursed my heavy lot ! 
 
 XLIl. 
 
 Disconsolate the troop again I sought. 
 
 My soul on fire with love — Almighty pow'r ! 
 
 AVith fear and hope my flutt'ring breast was fraught — 
 Oh ! Alia great ! I'll ne'er forget that hour !
 
 CANTO HI. RELVEDDER. 95 
 
 My prayers to thee I fervently did pour 
 
 To grant this sweet one to my doting heart ; 
 
 Thou heard'st my words, for in the same sweet bow'r 
 The next eve found me, from the world apart, 
 When shadow threw its garb the misty hills athwart. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Time sped away in bliss without alloy ; 
 
 I clasped her to my ardent, beating breast ; 
 The phantom sorrow never came me nigh ; 
 
 Joy held its reign — my heart was truly blest ! 
 We'd on the river's tangled margin rest, 
 
 In sweetest converse, and survey the scene, 
 Whilst spicy breezes from the fragrant west 
 
 In soothing music shot the trees between, 
 And wav'd the tender stems and leaves of lovely green. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 One eve I missM her — I^ate I sought the camp ; 
 
 I knew my comrades waited my return : 
 O'er the high hills arose the moon's pale lamp. 
 
 And hosts of stars around her disk did burn. 
 With heavy heart (her name upon my tongue) 
 
 I onward mov'd with languid pace and slow ; 
 Often I turn^l, and cast my eyes along 
 
 The scarce trod path to that sweet cottage low, 
 'Neath whose low modest roof the fairest flow'r did blow
 
 96 RELVEDDER. camo hi. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 That ever cleck'd this wide and spacious orb. 
 
 I now had mov'd some distance on ray way ; 
 My heart beat quickly, and I scarce could curb 
 
 The rising wish that in my mind did play 
 To back return. — I was about to lose 
 
 (By intervention of a rugged rock, 
 That rose its sombre head in deep repose 
 
 Above the vale) sight of the lovely spot : 
 The dusky craggs arose, and did the prospect block. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 I paused awhile to take a farewell look ; 
 
 And as I gazed, I thought I saw a form 
 Move swiftly onward by the distant brook ; 
 
 It seem'd in haste, and tow'rds me quick did turn. 
 And wavM her hand — 'Tweas sweet Jurdina's slave. 
 
 I hurried forv/ard burning with desire. 
 And soon drew near the hut. — My brain did rave 
 
 With wild ecstatic joy — a burning fire 
 
 Roird thro' my trembling veins — My lungs could scarce 
 
 respire, 
 
 XLVir. 
 
 As I approacVd this paradise of joy ; 
 
 The door was open, and Jurdina there 
 Stood ready to receive me. — Ecstasy ! 
 
 Another moment on her bosom fair
 
 CANTO III. RELVEDDER 07 
 
 I lay enraptur''d ! — In my straining arms 
 The blushing virgin unresisting lay ! — 
 
 Entranced, I gazed upon her melting charms ; 
 Her raven tresses o'er my brow did play 
 In wild luxuriance, and the breezes gay 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Fann'd the dark locks as onward by they past. 
 
 Immortal Alia ! far above the sky, 
 On all true hearts thy gracious smile is cast — 
 
 Oh ! thou didst see the oath, the tear, the sigh. 
 That crown'd our meeting ,• and thou heardst the tone, 
 
 The low and plaintive tone that scaped her heart, 
 When with a face that blush'd like morning's throne, 
 
 She sigh'd she loved me ! Oh ! to now depart 
 From thee, dear girl, I cried, would fix the deadly dart 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 Of with'ring death within my aching brec^st. 
 
 The lovely maid invited me to eat — 
 A' sumptuous feast appear'd — She went in quest 
 
 Of cheering wines and sparkling cordials sweet. 
 Delightful joy, to be the honorM guest 
 
 Of such a spotless angel ! — Then she sipp\l 
 The ruby wine, on which the dew would rest 
 
 From her sweet mouth. — Oh ! eagerly I dipp'd 
 My lip into the cup — Oh ! how I worshipp'd
 
 98 llELVEDDER. canto iit. 
 
 L. 
 
 That dear enchanting form ! — And then she cried, 
 
 As with a witching glance she scann'd my face, 
 " Oh ! will you ever (the fond maiden sigh'd) 
 
 Love me as now ? Oh ! will not time efface 
 Your ardent love ? — Alas ! 'twill soon be dead !" — 
 
 " Oh ! my Jurdinal may great Alla''s might 
 Descend with vengeance on my perjur''d head ! — 
 
 May I dishonored fall within the fight 
 
 Low 'neath the foeman^s sword ! — May the fell lightning 
 
 blight 
 
 LI. 
 
 My black en'd heart, and may my callous soul 
 
 Ne'er gain admittance to the realms of bliss. 
 But into helFs dark, hopeless cavern roll, 
 
 If I to thee prove false ! — Oh ! by this kiss ! 
 Oh ! by my precious soul ! — My life-blood stream ! 
 
 And by this sword, my honor's trusty guard ! 
 By the great sun, whose soul-enlivning beam 
 
 Gladdens the earth ! I will thy beauty ward ! 
 Who injures thee, sweet maid, his gore shall stain the sward." 
 
 LIl. 
 
 (Christian, I see a shade upon thy brow — 
 Despise her not that she avowM her love 
 
 So soon with such deep fervour ; and I now 
 Do mark thy turn'd-up lip — Thou dost reprove
 
 CANTO III. RELVEDDER. ' 99 
 
 Her passion's forwardness — But thou must know, 
 
 The Asiatic from the Northern man 
 As widely differs as the blazing glow 
 
 Of noon-day sun-beam to the streamers wan, 
 That leave the pallid moon — ungenial as the snow ! 
 
 LIII. 
 
 They, like the dull and heavy northern breath, 
 
 Are cold, phlegmatic, given to suspect ; 
 And icy reason (unto love than death 
 
 More baneful) doth their fearful souls infect. 
 But we, by nature festinate and warm. 
 
 Need no vile laws to curb our wild desire : 
 Suspicion ne"'er our ardent hearts alarm — 
 
 We madly love, and nurse the rising fire 
 Within our sanguine breasts.) — She drew me nigher. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 A starting tear gleamVl in her downcast eye ; 
 
 Her lovely head reclin'd upon my breast ; 
 Around my neck her round, smooth arms did lie 
 
 With bashful tenderness. — Her sighs confess*'d 
 How much she lov^l me. — " Tell me, sweet, (I cried) 
 
 Thou source of all my joy ! wilt thou be mine ? 
 Here do I swear." — " Alas ! swear not (she sigh'd); 
 
 If thou dost love me, and would'st have me thine, 
 From one with power enclosed, deliver me in time.
 
 100 RELVEDDER. canto hi. 
 
 LV. 
 
 Ay, if thou lov'st me, snatch me from the arms, 
 
 The hated, arms of one who''s great in power. 
 Who persecutes my life. — With fear's alarms 
 
 My anxious breast doth heave — Oh ! wretched hour ! 
 My father to his loathsome, vile embrace 
 
 Devoteth me ! — Vain are my bitter tears — 
 From my sad prayers he turns away his face 
 
 With chilling apathy, and mocks my fears ; 
 The bitter thought of this my bleeding bosom sears. 
 
 Lvr. 
 I am the daughter of the great Walsade, 
 
 Chief of the Soldan's councils. — Hapless I 
 He means to sacrifice to feed his pride. 
 
 And glut ambition, 'fore whose breath doth fly 
 Paternal love, and all sweet virtae''s traits : 
 
 That hateful passion doth his soul infect ; 
 Corroding woe upon my heart awaits. 
 
 Oh ! let not all my dearest hopes be wrecked ! 
 Oh ! snatch me from the snare, else ever I'm bereft 
 
 LVII. 
 Of peace of mind ! Let me not fall a prey ! — 
 
 Six transient moons have scarcely glided by, 
 Since on one fated and unlucky day. 
 
 Within the great divan — when majesty
 
 CANTO in. RELVEDDER. 101 
 
 In glittering robes of grandeur sternly scann'd 
 Haughty and proud around — the viziers pray'd 
 
 That from the choicest beauties of the land 
 The mighty Sultan would select three maids 
 To share his pleasures. (They were alarm'd, afraid 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 Their much-lov'd king might die, and leave no heir 
 
 To fill the vacant throne.) And let the one 
 Who bears to thee a son thy empire share, 
 
 And be thy only queen. — So shall be done 
 The wishes of thy people, and thy name 
 
 Shall be transmitted to succeeding time. 
 The blushing daughters of the nobles came ; 
 
 He made his choice of three — What fate was mine ! 
 Alas ! alas ! on me his eyes did fondly shine !" 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Oh ! this o*erpower'd me quite, and dark despair 
 
 Struck to my heart. — Drear images did wake ; 
 Agony pierc'd my soul — I could not dare 
 
 To with the king contend — the thought did make 
 My whole frame tremble. — Tremblingly her hand 
 
 Dropped out of mine, and down I almost fell 
 Fainting before her. — Firmly did she stand. 
 
 And whilst contempt within her eyes did dwell — 
 " I leave you — leave you now I — Farewell ! farewell ! fare- 
 well !
 
 102 RELVEDDER. canto m. 
 
 LX. 
 
 Thou who didst dare to love art now afraid 
 
 To meet a rival's fierce and haughty glance, 
 Because possessed of pow'r ! — Where is thy blade ? 
 
 Thy neighing war-barb, and thy shining lance ? 
 I've been deceived ! I'm lost to thee for aye I" 
 
 She then in anger quickly left the room : 
 Burning with shame I after her did fly — 
 
 " O ! my Jurdina ! by the sun and moon ! 
 I will redress thy wrong whatever be my doom !" 
 
 LXI. 
 
 Just at this moment old Walsade appeared, 
 
 And with a frown he seiz\l his daughter's hand. 
 Amaze was in his eye — " And hast thou dared f 
 
 I heard no more— In rush'd a sable band 
 Of fawning mutes — they tied my hands, and bore 
 
 Me unresisting onwards towards the camp, 
 Where I was left to my reflections sore 
 
 A prey.— I gazed for hours upon the lamp 
 That flickered in the tent — then on the cold floor damp 
 
 LXII. 
 I stretched my weary limbs. — When morning dawn'd 
 
 My father came, and press'd me to his heart. 
 I told him all — with great surprise he turn'd, 
 
 And mildly said, " Gondemex, ye must part,
 
 CANTO III. RELVEDDER. 103 
 
 For by the Soldan is the maid ador'd, 
 
 Who'd spare no cost to win her to his arms. — 
 The Soklan loves her !" — Oh ! those fell words pour^l 
 Despair into my heart ! — Was broke the charm 
 In which my soul was wrapp'd. — That sweet and lovely form 
 
 LXllI. 
 Would be to me for ever, ever lost ! 
 
 'Twas like a sheet of fire hurl'd through my brain — 
 What wretched thoughts my teeming fancy crossed ! 
 
 " Oh, bitter, bitter hour V — I thought its reign 
 My reason would resign. — I tried to gain 
 
 Audience of the king — Ay, oft I tried : 
 Time heedless roll'd away, and fruitless, vain. 
 
 Were my endeavours. — But each night I sigh'd, 
 And pour'd my love in sweet Jurdina's ear. — Betide 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 What might, tlie maiden loved me still. — Oh, joy ! 
 
 Each day I pressVl her to my beating heart. 
 And though her father kept a watchful «ye 
 
 Over our motions, with most cunning art, 
 Yet did he never on our meetinjrs saze. 
 
 At length arrived the day, the long-wish'd day, 
 When I was usher'd to the dazzling blaze 
 
 Of mighty royalty. — What then to say 
 1 knew not. — Fail'd my speech — My tongue did mutely lay
 
 IQl RELVEDDER. canto ui. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 Within my trembling lips. — Like breathless bust 
 
 I silent stood — I ne'er before did fear 
 To meet the glances of the king, august ; 
 
 He mark'd my diffidence, and tried to cheer 
 My sinking heart. — "Speak ! — Speak, Gondemex, speak ! 
 
 Why dost thou tremble like the autumn leaf .'^" 
 Low to the ground I fell. — My burning cheek 
 
 Press'd the cold floor. — The starting sweat did reek, 
 And trickle down my brow. — "Oh ! great and mighty chief! 
 
 LXVT. 
 
 All-gracious Sol dan ! pardon me, thy slave, 
 
 Who on the object of thy love an eye 
 Of wild desire hath cast ! Oh ! let the wave 
 
 Of thy resentment quickly o'er me fly. 
 And hurl me to the earth ! — I yearn to die. 
 
 And leave this gloomy vale where all is pain ! 
 Where joy gives way to heart-aches and the sigh ! 
 
 And all our dearest, fondest hopes are vain ! 
 Empty as bubble globes ! and transient as the reign 
 
 LXVII. 
 Of sweet-robed morning o'er the landscape wide !" — 
 
 I mark'd his eye just when I spake these words ; 
 It glowed with anger — O'er his cheek a tide 
 
 Of rising blood rush'd violently. — The chords, 
 
 y
 
 CANTO III. RELVEDDER. 105 
 
 The jealous chords within his soul were touch'd. 
 
 " Proceed, (he cried) and let me hear her name — 
 This wondrous beauty which thy heart hath filch'd — 
 Her habitation, and from whence she came, 
 For by the Prophet's beard it doth my soul inflame 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 With curiosity ! — It is most strange !" 
 
 " Oh ! never, never, till you do pronounce 
 A pardon for us both ! — Do not estrange 
 
 From us your mercy ! — Oh ! do not denounce 
 Your vengeance on that harmless, lovely maid !" 
 
 He mus'd awhile, and then at length complied. 
 A pause ensued. I was almost afraid 
 
 To trust my sovereign's word. — I groan'd, I sigh'd — 
 " Jurdina ! — 'tis Jurdina ! (in agony I cried.) — 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 With me, oh Soldan ! she's exchanged the vow !" — 
 
 He started back on hearing that fond name. 
 " Jurdina ! — daughter of Walsade !" — A glow, 
 
 A deep and burning glow red as the flame 
 Oerspread his swarthy cheek and brawny neck, 
 
 Which quickly disappeared, then paleness came. 
 His glitt'ring sabre from its sheath did leap. 
 
 Then back return'd. — " Hast thou no sense of shame ? 
 Begone, vile slave ! — begone ! — before I stain my name
 
 10(5 RELVEDDER. canto hi. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 And spotless steel with thy low grov'lling blood !" — 
 
 And saying this abruptly left the spot. 
 Despair crept o'er me. From my eyes a flood 
 
 Of tear-drops fell ; I curs''d my heavy lot. 
 And from this time I did no longer see 
 
 The sweet Jurdina.— Oft I sought the cot, 
 But solitude was there — Oh ! agony ! 
 
 Jurdina, oft I cried ! she heard me not — 
 I curs'd my birth, my life, and those who plann'd the plot ! 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 And then I'd wander through the silent vale 
 
 Lonely and sad, dejected and forlorn ; 
 E'en like the bird which to the heedless gale 
 
 Pours its low plaint when from its breast is torn 
 Its tender mate. — O'er rising mount, through dale, 
 
 I sorrowing took my way ; nor shrub, nor flower. 
 Nor creeping zephyr's gentle, whispering wail. 
 
 Nor lucid lake, nor aromatic bower. 
 Could ease my bitter pangs, or to my lone heart pour 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 Aught like to joy. — The life-endearing sun — 
 The star of eve low glimmering o'er the sea 
 
 In virgin beauty — Shining streaks that run 
 O'er the red morning's brow — The lullabv
 
 t;ANTo lu. KELVEDDER. IQ7 
 
 From distant fountains singing in the "wild — 
 The spotless jessamine — The myrtle tree — 
 
 The nightingale, sweet music's dearest child— 
 The misty mountains great in majesty — 
 Bright nature's lovely charms, no pleasure brought to me. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 With breast of sorrow, sadly would I wander 
 
 Through those fair scenes where first I saw my love ! 
 In solitude my doting heart grew fonder, 
 
 And round my soul love's tendril closer wove. 
 The gloomy caves and dismal mountain hollows 
 
 Mock'd my deep grief, and echoed back my moans. 
 Love's smile of bliss despair's dread sting soon follows, 
 
 And sweetest sighs are turn'd to bitter groans ! 
 In lieu of soothing strains come discord's harshest tones ! 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 The sweet Jurdina now from me was parted. 
 
 And p'rhaps, alas ! within the Soldan's arms. 
 How oft my dagger from its scabbard started. 
 
 To take my life and quiet my alarms. 
 No joy came near my wretched, care-worn bosom ; 
 
 I loathM the very air that gave me life ; 
 My heart was as a lightning-blighted blossom. 
 
 Blasted and canker'd, whose dark core was rife 
 With agony and woe — " Oh ! that the reeking knife
 
 108 KELVEDDEK. camo hi. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 Or swift- wing' (1 arrow had deep lanced my heart 
 
 Ere this drear hour — this heavy hour of woe !" 
 The world had now no charms, with it to part 
 
 Incessantly I long'd. — War's sweeping flow 
 Was now about to thunder ©""er the land : 
 
 A host of foes did on our shores advance, 
 And our dark men unflinchingly did stand, 
 
 Steady and firm, Avith scimitar and lance, 
 Drawn up in grand array in their lov'd land's defence. 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 Reckless of all I join'd the noble band ; 
 
 And now came on the fight, desperate, fierce ; 
 The deafning tumult echoed through the land, 
 
 Fast flew the whistling balls — spears, swords did pierce 
 High buoyant hearts. — The snorting horses flew 
 
 Hot and impetuous round the smoking plain : 
 Our keen, curved blades shone with a crimson hue 
 
 From vanquish'd foes. — Destruction fell did reign, 
 And shouts and dying groans flew o'er the shore. — The main 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 Responded back the awful roar of strife. 
 
 Heedless I rush'd to where most danger lay. 
 In hopes that some kind shaft would take my life — 
 
 Thick flew the hissing darts— the balls did play,
 
 CANTO III. RELVEDDER. 109 
 
 And humm'd around my head — I bared my breast — 
 
 On ev'ry side I saw brave warriors fall, 
 And moaning sink to everlasting rest — 
 Alas ! alas ! no friendly lance or ball 
 Came near my longing heart — On death I loud did call ! 
 
 LXXVllI. 
 
 A length of time the deadly war did wage — 
 
 The Soldan's sword pourVl forth the foeman''s blood 
 In sanguine streams — fierce gleamM his eye, and rage 
 
 Burn'd on his brow, and like devouring flood 
 Headlong he rush'd with fury on the foe. 
 
 They proved too much — their flashing falchins broad 
 Hew'd down our broken ranks — blow follow'd blow, 
 
 As madly flew they o'er the blood-stain'd road 
 Slashing with deadly ire — it plain the Soldan shew'd 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 The day was lost. — Again he tried in vain 
 
 His scattered ranks to form. — I gazed around, 
 And saw our noble, valiant sovereign 
 
 Stretch'd on the earth — I made a sudden bound. 
 For o'er him hung a mighty leader'^s sword. 
 
 About to fall upon his prostrate head — 
 I stoppd the blow, and on the smoking sord 
 
 Hurl'd the vile haughty dog — the grassy bed 
 ReceivM his hot heart's blood — my dirk had laid him dead.
 
 110 RELVEDDER. banto hi. 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 The grateful Soldan press'd me to his breast^ 
 " To thee I owe my life — to thee, brave man ! — 
 
 My soul ere this had fled but for that gest — 
 That noble deed ! — Thy timely atagon 
 
 Pierc'd the proud foeman's heart." — I bound his wound- 
 He seized again his sword, and off he flew 
 
 Like Indian's arrow o'er the corse-strew'd ground. 
 The day was closing, and the trumpets blew, 
 And sounded a recall. — That day I numbers slew, 
 
 LXXXl. 
 
 And when it closed uninjur'd left the spot. 
 
 When morning dawn'd our foes the hills did take — 
 Our cautious Soldan thought it prudent not 
 
 To give them battle in his feeble state, 
 But keep aloof till succours were obtainM : 
 
 Meantime he call'd his learned council forth — 
 Great men of wisdom, viziers, courtiers rang'd 
 
 Around the dazzling throne. — "Oh! men of birth- 
 True followers of Alia — men of rarest worth ! 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 How must I him reward who in the battle. 
 
 When danger reign 'd, and foemen onward press'd 
 
 With deadly ire — when heavy swords did rattle 
 O'er our exhausted ranks, exposed his breast
 
 CANTO III. RELVEDDEIl. m 
 
 To the huge soklier's might to lend me aid, 
 
 And save my blood from reeking on their steel ? 
 
 How shall I treat him who through gore did wade 
 To my assistance when I back did reel 
 O'ercome for lack of strength upon the crimson field ?" — 
 
 LXXXIIl. 
 
 He paused — all tongues were hush'd — no sound was heard, 
 
 I stood astonisliM — wonder and surprise 
 Engross'd my soul — All seem'd to speak afeard. 
 
 At length my father from his couch did rise. — 
 " Oh ! mighty Soldan ! Monarch of the earth ! 
 
 Thy life's preserver from thee merits naught — 
 But oh ! from us the saver of such worth 
 
 From those vile dogs with whom we lately fought — 
 
 Much, much indeed ! — Who was't ? Oh ! let him here be 
 
 brought, 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 That we may fall low at his feet and bless 
 
 The dear preserver of our Soldan's life !" — 
 Then rose Walsade, and did the king address — 
 
 *' Unto that man thy bosom should be rife 
 With friendship, gratitude, and boundless love." — 
 
 *' Thou speakest right, Walsade — thou speakest right, 
 Our friendship and our love ! — I soon will prove 
 
 How much I prize his worth. — To pleasurc''s height. 
 The utmost height of bliss, I'll lift his heart. — The weight
 
 113 RELVEDDER. canto m. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 That presses on his soul I'll now remove.'' 
 
 The Soldan then stamped loudly on the floor — 
 The viziers stood amazed. — Then slow did move 
 
 A spacious curtain, and a wither\l moor 
 Came slowly forth accompanied by a form 
 
 O'er which a splendid veil in airy waves 
 Flow'd sweet and gracefully. — Oh ! what a storm 
 
 Then rose within my soul ! — My bosom''s heave 
 Surpris^l the wondering crowd. — Their souls could not 
 unreave 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 The mystery — I could do naught but gaze 
 
 Upon the flutt'ring gauze that hid the face 
 Of this unknown — My mind was in amaze — 
 
 I hoped — I fear'd — I thought I there could trace 
 The step, the air, of her, my heart's delight — 
 
 Adored Jurdina ! — Colour left my cheek — 
 Torture — suspense upon my soul did light — 
 
 A silence reign'd around — No one to speak 
 Had dared — There seem'd a spell which no one wish'd to 
 break. 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 The king, to ease my heart, did slightly nod — 
 The sable slave advanced, and quickly fell 
 
 Down to the ground the hated veil — Oh God ! 
 Jurdina stood before me ! sweet as bell,.
 
 CANTO in. RELVEDDER. 113 
 
 The tender woodland bell, that greets the morn 
 From out its dew-deck'd bed. — Lovely and sweet 
 
 As when she from my longing arms was torn. — 
 I stood entranced — Our eager eyes did meet — 
 I clasp'd lier to my breast, and felt her fond heart beat ! 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 " Take her, Gondemex, (cried the noble king) — 
 
 Take the sweet maid for thou'st deserved her well, 
 And may the Prophet o''er the union fling 
 
 Ecstatic joy ! — May sweetest love aye dwell 
 Within your hearts pure and untainted ever — 
 
 I give her spotless to thy longing arms — 
 And oh ! may naught save conq'ring death ye sever — 
 
 May ye feel naught save doting love's alarm, 
 Or aught appear to ]uar or tirwitching spell decharm. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 The light-reflecting diamond, glitt'ring, pure, 
 
 That sparkles richly on my golden crown, 
 Jurdina's eyes would cast a shade obscure 
 
 O'er its bright gleamings ! — Take her — She's thine 
 own ! — 
 By heaven ! within this wide and ponderous earth, 
 
 No, not in Paradise where hourics dwell, 
 A sweeter maiden never had her birth ! — 
 
 She'd make the Mohoc's heart with kindness swell ! 
 And gender love and joy within a demon fell !" —
 
 114 RELVEDDER. canto hi. 
 
 XC. 
 
 We threw ourselves upon tlie marble floor — 
 
 We. calFd on Alia to reward the deed- 
 In gratitude our mingled tears did pour — 
 
 Oh ! what drear anguish from our souls was freed !- 
 Walsade then placed his daughter's hand in mine — 
 
 My wond'ring father dropp'd a tear of joy — 
 The rays of bliss upon our hearts did shine — 
 
 The sweet Jurdina on my breast did sigh ! 
 And hung her lovely head in bashful modesty ! 
 
 xci. 
 
 The king was present at the nuptial rite ; 
 
 The country round his conduct did applaud ; 
 My own Jurdina there in robe of white 
 
 Shone like a spotless star ! — wonder — applause 
 Escap'd each gazer's lips — ^Oh ! ne'er before 
 
 Had such sweet beauty met their straining eyes : 
 She seem*'d like some fair being from the shore 
 
 Of heaven's bright country o'er the golden skies ; 
 And more they gazed, the more did admiration rise. 
 
 XCIT. 
 
 Alas ! not long we felt joy's transient reign ! 
 
 Our foes again upon our shores did rush 
 With increas'd numbers. — Like the hurricane 
 
 Swept ©""er the plains, and with determin'd push
 
 CANTO III. RELVEDDER. 115 
 
 Pressed onward tlirougli our peaceful quiet land, 
 Firing the towns, and with their callous steel 
 Shedding the blood of all.— (Inhuman band ! — 
 Detested and despised ! — What breasts did feel 
 Your horrid thirst for gore, and helplessly did kneel 
 
 XCIIl. 
 In dreadful anguish groaning at your feet ! 
 
 What maidens for their murder'd lovers wept ! 
 What mothers cried as if their hearts would break 
 
 For those dear sons that from their homes were swept, 
 Ne'er to return ! — laid on the awful field 
 
 In death"'s cold sleep, to frightful birds a prey ! 
 What gallant hearts ye caused their breath to yield. 
 
 Hated beginners of this dreadful fray ! 
 Direr than gales of pest ! — What thousands ye did lay 
 
 XCIV. 
 
 In lasting slumber never more to rise !) 
 
 All flew to arms to meet their gathering force ; 
 Their warlike cries resounded through the skies : 
 
 I join'd their numbers, and upon my horse 
 With ardour bounded, and my lovely bride 
 
 (Remonstrance was in vain) resolved to go, 
 And share my fortunes ; vainly did I chide — 
 
 "Alas ! (she cried) shouldst thou receive the blow. 
 The deadly blow of death — Oh ! what kind heart will low
 
 116 RELVEDDER. canto iir. 
 
 XCV. 
 
 Kneel by thy side, and catch thy latest breath ? 
 
 Oh ! who will tend thee in the hour of need. 
 And bind thy wounds, or stay the foeman's wrath ? — 
 
 Oh ! none ! oh ! none !— Unheeded thou wilt bleed !— 
 The thought's distraction ! — With thee I must go." — 
 
 Alas ! Avhat perils did she bear for me ! — 
 The blazing sun's o'erpow'ring, dreadful glow — 
 
 The withering dews of night — the misery 
 Of tramping pathless wastes teeming with agony ! 
 
 xcvi. 
 Alas ! alas ! that dear and lovely bride — 
 
 That gem of worth !— I'hat sweet affection's star ! 
 
 The calid stream now gurgles by her side ! — 
 
 The wild winds whistle in the waste afar ! 
 O'er her lone grave the smoth'ring tempests war ! 
 
 The broad-leav'd trees waft forth a hollow moan ' 
 And dismal screams upon the breezes jar 
 
 From forest birds, and beasts that nightly roam 
 O'er the wide barren plain with soul-appalling groan ! 
 
 XCVII. 
 I sought her long when closed the dreadful fray 
 
 My mind misgave me — Day and night had fled 
 And yet she came not.— At the break of day 
 
 I wander'd forth again. — Oh ! God ! stone dead
 
 CANTO III. RELVEDDER. 117 
 
 I found her stretcli'd upon the desert sand ! 
 
 Her lovely brow was cover'd ©""er witli blood! 
 Some straggling ball sliot from the foeman''s band 
 
 Had reach'd the spot where by a gliding flood 
 In anxious fears for me unconsciously she stood ! 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 So do not, Christian, think thy lot severe — 
 
 Alas ! to mine 'tis light ! — ay, light indeed ! 
 Though fortune"'s brow's ungentle and austere, 
 
 Hope still remains — but my lone heart doth bleed 
 With hopeless anguish ! — Oh ! the heavy deed 
 
 That laid my angel 'neath the cheerless clay ! — 
 Alas ! alas ! that my poor soul was freed 
 Prom its dark mansion, and to take its way 
 Where dwells my beauteous bride in heaven's sweet 
 company!"
 
 RELVEDDER. 
 
 CANTO IV. 
 
 I. 
 
 Thus, then, Gonclemex did his tale conclude. 
 
 I still remainM a prisoner in the cell— 
 My thankful heart o'erflow'd with gratitude — 
 
 My hopes, my fears, to him I'd freely tell : 
 And Oh ! his noble, tender breast would swell, 
 
 And weep with j^ity when I told my grief. 
 My boding thoughts his converse sweet did quell. 
 
 He shortly hoped he said to give relief 
 Unto my weary heart. — Again he meant to seek 
 
 II. 
 
 The haughty Sultan, and relate the case. 
 
 Oh ! had his brother liv'd whose life he saved, 
 These dreary walls would not my limbs encase ; 
 
 In this dire vault I should not be enslaved.
 
 CANTO IV. IIELVEDDER. 1X9 
 
 But glorious freedom on my soul would beam. 
 
 Two bitter years rolPd on in cares and sighs, 
 Without one ray or soul-enliv'ning gleam 
 
 To cheer my heart. — Listless I cast my eyes 
 Around my gloomy cell, in hopes that might arise 
 
 III. 
 Some ray of hope — I scrutiniz'd the walls ; 
 
 They mildew'd were and falling to decay ; 
 Adown their sides did oozing water fall 
 
 With tinkling sound, and onward took its way 
 Through the deep crevices. — Oft did I pray 
 
 To heaven to lend me aid. — I search'd around, 
 And in a closet mouldering away 
 
 A secret door unthinkingly I found — 
 Oh ! with what wild delight my fluttering heart did bound ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 The bolts and locks were eat away with rust, 
 
 I used some force and quick it open flew ; 
 Full in my face then burst a sweeping gust 
 
 Of pent-up wind, and with its blast near blew 
 Out the low flame that flicker'd in my lamp. 
 
 I pass\l along into a wider cell ^ 
 
 Mould'ring in ruins, fcetid, foul and dank ; 
 
 Amongst the stones dark coiling snakes did dwell. 
 And on the humid air their hisses loud did swell. —
 
 120 RELVEDDER. canto jv. 
 
 V. 
 
 An awful silence reign'd throughout the gloom ; 
 
 Naught broke the pause save sudden gusts of wind 
 That roird along the subterraneous tomb. 
 
 I wander'd on in hopes the light to find 
 Of long-lost day — I journeyM on in hope 
 
 Through dreary passages — up crumbling stairs; 
 At length a glimmer through the darkness broke ; 
 
 I bounded on, and felt the soothing airs 
 Of heaven's sweet element which soon dispersed my cares. 
 
 VI. 
 
 I found myself within an open court, 
 
 Alas ! alas ! no outlet was there there, 
 But then the sweet light shone ! — My heart did sport 
 
 Within my bosom. — Oh ! the concave fair ! 
 The glorious vault of heaven now met my view ! 
 
 I saw the sur/s bright beam ! — I felt the air 
 That shot athwart the canopy of blue — 
 
 It ftinn'd my brow, and wav'd my lengthened hair ; 
 I knelt me lowly down, and pour'd my thanks in prayer ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 I look'd around, but nothing met my sight 
 
 By which to aid me to effect escape ; 
 The ponderous doors were fast — firm set and tight 
 
 Was the huge stone-work ; naught their base could 
 shake,
 
 CANTO TV. RELVEDDER. 121 
 
 Save the loud tliimcler, when fierce tempests wake, 
 Resounding deeply 'mongst the mountains drear. 
 
 Disconsolate my way I back did take 
 
 To my lone cell — Oh i would my friend appear ! 
 He might devise some plan by which to disappear, 
 
 VIII. 
 
 And leave for aye this dreadful seat of woe. — 
 
 Soon as the evening fell Gondemex came ; 
 I told him what I'd seen, and did him show 
 
 The secret door. — We got a stronger flame, 
 And then proceeded to explore the same ; 
 
 We found at length to where the passage led ; 
 It faced a lonely, deep, o'crshadow'd lane. 
 
 " At midnight hour when glaring daylight's fled 
 Thither we'll silent steal when gloom o'er all is spread 
 
 9 
 
 IX. 
 
 With long confinement my strong frame had shrunk. 
 
 Was but the shadow of my former strength ; 
 My face was pale — my languid eyes Avere sunk — 
 
 I lost all spirits. — Unto such a length 
 The time had run since first I was confined, 
 
 That naught remain'd save pallid skin and bone : 
 I sorrow'd much for those I'd left behind — 
 
 The good old Pedro — was he still at home ? 
 My benefactor kind, who rear'd mc as his own. 
 
 E
 
 122 RELVEDDER. canto iv. 
 
 X. 
 
 In great suspense the dreary hours roll'd on ; 
 
 I mark'd each cry of weary sentinel ; 
 At length the last retiring guard had gone — 
 
 Oh ! gladsome sound ! — The low door of my cell 
 Then slowly open'd — joy too great to tell ! 
 
 In stepp'd Gondemex, in his hand the keys — 
 " ril break this wretchedness ! — This gloomy spell ! 
 
 He cried enraptur'd. — Follow, if you please ; 
 Quick leave this cheerless haunt, and court the midnight 
 breeze." 
 
 XI. 
 
 A silence reign'd most gloomy, most profound ; 
 
 With noiseless steps we crept along the way ; 
 The echoing walls bespoke the slightest sound ; 
 
 The foetid vapours round about did play : 
 " Be cautious. Christian, (my dear friend did say) 
 
 The faintest noise will make our purpose known ; 
 Mind how you tread — these steps from long decay 
 
 Have lost their firmness, and have feeble grown ; 
 Mind how thou sett'st thy foot or thou wilt sure be thrown." 
 
 XII. 
 
 I was so weak that scarcely could I stand ; 
 
 My drooping head upon his shoulder hung ; 
 '•Cheer up, my friend," (he cried) — He graspM my hand, 
 
 And o'er my form his costly cloak he flung :
 
 CANTO IV. RELVEDDER. 123 
 
 The hollow cries of watch guards slowly rung, 
 
 As they did pace around the sombre pile ; 
 The low wind play'd the rising towers among; 
 In thoughtful mood we journey 'd on the while ; 
 We hoped that naught unseen would rise our plot to spoil. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Just then a sentinel did cross our path, 
 
 And placed his sabre 'gainst my heaving breast ; 
 Fierce was his aspect, in his eye was wrath ; 
 
 My heart beat wildly, and I trembled lest 
 He should depart and quickly rouse the rest 
 
 That paced around the prison's gloomy wall — 
 " Stand !" (cried he loudly) — Heavens! — I stood aghast ! 
 
 Upon my heart his words like death did fall ! 
 Surprise was on his face — he was about to call 
 
 XIV. 
 To those without to lend him instant aid— 
 
 My friend stepp'd up and whispcr'd in his ear — 
 It was enough — No more the soldier said, 
 
 But in the darkness quick did disappear. 
 Oh ' how his absence did my bosom cheer ! 
 
 We journeyed on, and soon had pass'd the gate ; 
 Adown my cheek did trickle joy's sweet tear : 
 
 Within the wood two speedy steeds did wait, 
 To them we quickly sped, and o'er the plain did take
 
 124 RELVEDDER. canto iv. 
 
 XV, 
 
 Swift as the wind our dark but joyous way. 
 
 We journey'd on until we reach'd the shore, 
 We there arrived just at the break of day ; 
 
 My ears enraptur'd heard the billows roar ; 
 I saw with joy the morning cloudlets soar 
 
 As through the beaming sky they saiFd along ; 
 I saw the distant land — the mountains hoar, 
 
 And snowy birds upon the water throng : 
 My soul once more did greet sweet nature's lovely song. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Within a cavern screen 'd from human eye 
 
 My friend then left me till he could procure 
 A ship to bear me from the country, 
 
 The bitter one in which I did endure 
 Such heavy woe. — He strongly did conjure 
 
 Me to remain conceal'd till his return. 
 " On no account let aught thy steps allure — 
 
 Depend upon't with dreadful rage will burn, 
 The Soldan's anger'd heart, and all his thoughts will turn 
 
 XVII. 
 
 On thy escape. — No means he'll leave untried 
 To trace thy flight, and find out thy retreat." — 
 
 When eve return'd my friend was at my side ; 
 He'd seen the Soldan — fear was on his check —
 
 CANTO IV. RELVEDDER. 125 
 
 He on his head his savage ire did wreak, 
 And said concern\l he was in my escape. 
 
 Dark passion dyed his face — he scarce could speak. 
 He said the bow my dear friend"'s life should take, 
 Unless he me restor*'d ere morning sun did wake. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 " But think not, Christain, I Avill thee betray — 
 
 No, not for worlds ! — I will to thee be true ! 
 Oh ! may a blast through life bestrew my way ! 
 
 May heaven's dread wrath my peijur'd heart pierce 
 through ! 
 May fell despair into my soul imbrue ! 
 
 May I be loath'd by all within the earth, 
 If I, dear friend, inconstant prove to you ■ 
 
 Preserver of my life ! — Thou man of worth ! 
 With thee I will depart to where thou hadst thy birth. — 
 
 XIX. 
 
 With thee I'll cross the Avide and boundless sea 
 
 To thy fair country — that bower of song ! 
 And with thee dwell in friendship, harmony : 
 
 In love and joy our days will speed along." — 
 The vessel came — the spreading sails did throng 
 
 Upon the portly masts — the singing breeze 
 Fill'd their white bosoms — swift she sped, and strong 
 
 Her prow cleft through the swelling, spray-cap 't seas. 
 Oh ! great was then my joy ! — I fell down on my knees.
 
 126 RELVEDDER. canto iv. 
 
 XX. 
 
 And pour'd my thanks to great Almighty God. 
 
 And now the tear stood in my friend's dark eye, 
 As the bright land on which from youth he'd trod 
 
 Receded from the sight. — His heart did sigh. 
 He gaz'd, and gaz'd, till nothing but the dye, 
 
 The dye of distant ocean met his sight. 
 " Farewell ! farewell ! (he anxiously did cry) — 
 
 No more I'll see thy hills — thy waters bright ! 
 From thee, my native land, I take my rapid flight !" 
 
 XXI. 
 
 All went on well until that dreadful night, 
 
 That nif»ht of woe on which our bark was dash\l 
 Upon your deadly coast — Oh ! horrid sight ! 
 
 I saw my friend from off the vessel wash'd •' 
 I saw him sink ! — The smoth'ring billows splashM, 
 
 And roll'd with fury o'er his helpless head, 
 Without the means to lend him aid ! — then crasVd 
 
 Our fated ship upon the dark rock's bed ! 
 I fell upon the deck — my heart with anguish bled !" 
 
 XXII. 
 
 The stranger paus'd. Relvedder stood amaz'd. 
 
 His wife and daughter's cheeks were batli'd in tears- 
 Surpris'd upon their courteous guest they gaz'd. — 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! how many bitter years
 
 CANTO IV. RELVEDDER. 127 
 
 Have fallen to thy lot ! — What liopes, what fears — 
 What anguish, joy, and pain, within thy breast 
 
 Alternately have play'd ! — Alas ! how near, 
 
 How narrow's been thy scapes ! Thou'st stood the test 
 Of misery and woe-'" — " Sweet lady, I am blest •' 
 
 - XXIII. 
 
 Ay, blest indeed in having found such worth ! 
 
 To ye I owe my life ! — Oh ! had ye not 
 On that drear night have ta'en me to your hearth, 
 
 Alas ! alas ! the grave had been my lot ! 
 Endear'd to me will ever be this spot ! 
 
 This lovely spot, where first I tasted joy ! 
 A paradise would be the meanest cot, 
 
 If ye were there ! — The happy hours would fly 
 On pleasure's laughing wing — sweet peace and harmony !" — 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Each rising day their friendship fonder grew — 
 
 Olinvo oft at twilight's solemn hour, 
 When all was still, and the pale ev'ning blue 
 
 Shone void of cloud — when dew-drops deck'd the flow'r, 
 Repair a unto the lone sequester'd bow'r 
 
 With lovely Zanta, (so the maid was named — 
 Relveduer*'s beauteous daughter) and would pour 
 
 Into her ear the love his soul enflam'd, 
 In solitude's lone seat, where stillness sweetly rcign'd.
 
 128 RELVEDDER. canto iv. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 With her he'd wander to the lonely -shore, 
 
 And low recline on banks of lovely green ; 
 And mark the sea-birds o'er the ocean soar 
 
 On rapid wing around the beauteous scene ; 
 And mark the wavelets sparkling creep between 
 
 The tangl'd rocks, bedeck'd Avith crystal bright, 
 And hear the warblers 'neath the emerald screen 
 
 Pour forth their notes, then quickly take their flight 
 On flutt'ring pinion borne through ether from the sight. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 And then they'd launch their boat into the river, 
 
 And sail away upon the sparkling sea ; 
 And watch the prow the gliding waves dissever. 
 
 As on they pass'd in clusters merrily : 
 And hear the lovely ocean harmony 
 
 In sweetest strains creep on the gliding gale : 
 Their joyous hearts did swell with ecstasy — 
 
 The speckrd curlew cast around its wail. 
 Reflected in the deep o'er which it swift did sail. 
 
 XXVII. 
 Time sped along — at length arrived the day, 
 
 The heavy day on which he must depart ; 
 The beauteous Zanta on his breast did lay ; 
 
 From her sweet eyes did tender tear-drops start ;
 
 CANTO TV. RELVEDDER. 129 
 
 Deep sighs escaped her full o'crburdcn'd heart ; 
 
 Upon his face in tender love she gazed ; 
 " And must we part, . Olinvo ? — must we part ?" — 
 
 Oh ! anguish great Avithin his bosom blazed ! 
 O'er om- bright day of joy woe's cast its gloomy shade !" 
 
 i. 
 
 Farewell, my Zanta ! — farewell ! — farewell ! 
 
 May placid peace in thy bosom dwell — 
 
 I now must leave thee, myonly dear ! 
 
 Sweet scenes of joy for a prospect drtari 
 
 No more I'll gaze on thy sylph-like form ! 
 
 The lamp of woe in my soul doth burn ! 
 Adieu, dearest maiden ! the joy of my heart ! 
 In sorrow I leave thee i — The big tear-drops start ! 
 We part, sweet maid ! — we part •' — we part ! 
 
 ii. 
 No more we'll stray 'neath the crystal ray 
 Which shone in the heavens at close of day — 
 Nor mark the moon with her modest beam 
 Tingeing the clouds with her silver gleam; 
 No more we'll gaze on the ev'ning star 
 Glimmering bright in the twilight for. 
 Adieu, dearest maiden ! the joy of my heart ! 
 In sorrow I leave thee ! — The big tear-drops start ! 
 We part, sweet maid !— we part ! — we part ! 
 
 s
 
 130 RELVEDDER. canto iv. 
 
 iii. 
 No more we'll stray in the lonesome wood, 
 And rest on banks of the gliding flood ; 
 No more we'll enter the shaded dell, 
 And cull the rose and the tender bell : 
 No more we'll list the murmuring rills 
 Gliding so sweetly beneath the hills. 
 
 Adieu, dearest maiden ! the joy of my heart ! 
 
 In sorrow I leave thee ! The big tear-drops start ! 
 We part, sweet maid ! — we part ! — we part l 
 
 iv. 
 I now must stray to a distant shore — 
 Thy witching glance I shall see no more ! 
 I now must cross the pathless sea, 
 And leave my friends, my home, and thee ! 
 Where billows roll and horrors rise, 
 And thunders rend the dreary skies » 
 
 Adieu, dearest maiden ! the joy of my heart ! 
 
 In sorrow I leave thee ! — The big tear-drops start ! 
 We part, sweet maid ! — we part ! — we part ! 
 
 V. 
 
 And say, my Zanta, when far from thee 
 Will ever a sigh escape for me ? 
 That breast of snow will it ever heave ? 
 That tender heart will it ever grieve ?
 
 CANTO IV. RELVEDDEU. 131 
 
 Oh ! long ! Oh •' long ! have we liv'd in joy ! 
 
 Say wilt thou e'er to my mem'ry sigh ? — 
 Adieu, dearest maiden ! the joy of my heart ! 
 In sorrow I leave thee — The big tear-drops start ! 
 We part, sweet maid •' — we part • — we part •' 
 
 vi. 
 The reign of joy soon flitteth away. 
 Like beam of the sun on a winter day ; 
 Like breath of the morning, pure and mild. 
 Kissing the sweets of the woodland wild ; 
 Like setting star on verge of the sea, 
 Tingeing the wave in its purity. 
 
 Adieu, dearest maiden ! — the joy of my heart ! 
 
 In sorrow I leave thee ! — The big tear-drops start ! 
 We part, sweet maid ! — we part ! — we part. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 At night's dark hour he left the lovely spot. 
 
 The lovely spot where all he lov'd did dwell ; 
 The sails were set — He cursed his heavy lot: 
 
 What sorrow great within his soul did swell. 
 No friend had he his bitter grief to tell ; 
 
 He cast his eyes around the ocean wide ; 
 Afar he heard the sound of distant bell, 
 
 From the sweet land where Zanta did reside — 
 A heartfelt tear fell down — He turn'd his head and sighd.
 
 132 llELVEDDER. canto iv. 
 
 1. 
 
 Lovely island ! — happy dwelling 
 
 I must leave tliee, fraught with woe ! 
 Sorrow in my heart is swelling ! 
 
 From my eyes the tear-drops flow '• 
 Adieu I adieu ! — Oh I shall I ever 
 
 Again return where raptures dwell ? — 
 A voice within my heart cries — never ! 
 
 Scene of pleasure, fare thee well ! 
 
 ii. 
 Alas ! alas ! that joy's sweet aspect 
 
 Should so soon its beauties close, 
 And sorrow''s bleak and dismal prospect 
 
 To the soul its frowns disclose ! 
 The god of storm is o'er me howling ; 
 
 Round about vast billows swell ; 
 Thunder peals are loudly rolling. — 
 
 Scene of pleasure, fare thee well ! — 
 
 iii. 
 Companion sweet, who used to wander 
 
 Through those fairy isles with me. 
 Where the limpid streams meander 
 
 By the fragrant, flow'ry tree :
 
 CANTO IV. RELVEDDER. 133 
 
 Maiden dear, my heart is breaking 
 
 With thoughts of thee ! — Oh! couklst thou tell 
 What sorrow in my bosom's waking ! 
 
 Scene of pleasure, fare thee well! 
 
 iv. 
 Oil ! can I e'er forget those hours 
 
 (When the silver twilight haze 
 In modest vesture wrapp'd the bowVs, 
 
 Through which appcar'd the eve-star's rays) 
 WeVe spent when all the world was sleeping, 
 
 Deep within the lonely dell ? 
 Oh ! nothing now's for me but weeping ! 
 
 Scene of pleasure, fare thee well ! — 
 
 When evening sunbeams glitter brightly 
 
 On the restless, gurgling wave, 
 Who will trip with thee so lightly 
 
 Where the waters sweetly lave ? 
 Who will lead thee gaily dancing 
 
 Over gem and sparkling shell ? — . 
 Oh ! anguish deep my heart is lancing ! 
 
 Scene of pleasure, fare thee well !
 
 134 RELVEDDER. canto iv. 
 
 vi. 
 
 I strain my eyes o'er ocean's bosom — 
 
 I strive, I strive in vain to see 
 A tree, a plant, a tiny blossom. 
 
 Or aught that seems to speak of thee ! — 
 But dreary darkness gathers round me — 
 , Fortune's direst vengeance fell 
 Within its iron gripe hath bound me ! 
 
 Scene of pleasure, fare thee well ! 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 The lovely Zanta pined in grief — grew ill — 
 
 Her roses fled — the lustre left her eye — 
 The op''ning morn now miss'd her on the hill ; 
 
 The winding rill she'd ceas'd to wander by ; 
 The soaring lark now sang alone on high ; 
 
 The sprightly fawns seem'd desolate and sad ; 
 The mountain breeze cast forth a plaintive sigh — 
 
 There seemM a wanting — some great charm had fled- 
 The lovely maid was miss'd that made sweet nature glad. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Relvedder saw his child fast fall away, 
 It hurt him sorely, for he lov'd her well ; 
 
 Around her face the smiles had ceased to play, 
 A listlesness and languor there did dwell.
 
 CANTO IV. RELVEDDER. 135 
 
 Advis'd she was to brave the ocean's swell, 
 
 To some warm clime congenial to the weak. 
 He'd tried all means — naught could her sickness quell — 
 His tender wife did naught but sigh and weep, 
 And mourn'd her drooping child as if her heart would break. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 These thoughts were passing in his wretched mind, 
 
 When in the bay the smugglers anchor cast, 
 Their sails were flapping in the rising wind, 
 
 And gently wav'd around the tow'ring mast ; 
 The gliding waves against the vessel wash'd, 
 
 And onward wandcr'd, sparkling 'neath the ray 
 That through the clouds in glorious splendour flash'd ; 
 
 The amber beam fell richly on the spray, 
 And birds rejoic'd above and sported on their way. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Relvkdder haird them — beckon'd them to shore — 
 
 They mann''d the boat and quickly left the ship ; 
 The water dash'd and gurgled round the prore 
 
 As in its breast the straining oars did dip ; 
 From their broad ends the glist'ning spray did drip, 
 
 As glitt'ring bright they left the playful wave : 
 Upon the beach then blithely did they skip, 
 
 And with Relvedder to their secret cave 
 They sped, — They mark'd the sorrow — the expression grave
 
 130 RELVEDDER. canto iv. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 That mantl'd o*'er his face. — They were about 
 
 To leave the coast and sail for Lisbon's shore. 
 " With us you'd best embark — Our ship is stout, 
 
 A famous sea-boat that can stand the roar 
 Of blust'ring tempests." — Then again the oar 
 
 Dipped in the water. — He agreed to go. 
 He deeply did his daughter''s health deplore. 
 
 He liastenM quickly home to let them know, 
 For ere the morning dawn'd the vessel's firm-set prow 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Upon her way would through the billows glide. 
 
 Rklveddeii paced the deck at close of day, 
 His wife and daughter clinging to his side. 
 
 The singing breeze within the sails did play ; 
 The vessel glided sweetly on her way 
 
 Through the blue ocean sparkling bright with gleam. 
 They gaz'd, and gaz'd, upon the mountains grey 
 
 That rose in grandeur o'er the lovely green. 
 That deck'd their now lone home where happiness had been. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 The wind prov'd kindly, and they onward sped 
 For many days along the beauteous sea : 
 
 They gaz'd enraptured on the mighty bed 
 Of glassy water, as majestic '11 y
 
 CANTO IV. RELVEDDER. 137 
 
 It roll'd its waves along in majesty. 
 
 Rippled in beauty by the whisp'ring gale, 
 
 Running away till in obscurity 
 
 They sank behind the far horizon pale — 
 Whilst creeping on the air crept forth the sea-mew's wail. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 One misty morning, just at break of day, 
 
 Through the long glass the smuggler captain spied 
 Away to windward through the vapour gray 
 
 A sharp-built vessel — sneakingly did ride 
 She through the water, and her canvass wide 
 
 Spread its white breast to catch the rising gale ; 
 Her course she kept not — round her head did glide, 
 
 And down upon them swiftly did she sail. 
 The men were much surpris'd, and loudly did they hail ; 
 
 XXXVII. 
 But all was still — no answer was returnM, 
 
 As near she came they saw few meA on board ; 
 Suspicion fiU'd their breasts, and fiercely burn'd 
 
 The captain''s eye — He loudly gave the word — 
 " Prepare for fight, my boys ! — Our precious hoard 
 
 Is now in danger ! — Quick cast loose the guns, 
 And stand in readiness — Grasp firm the sword ! 
 
 For, as I live, a pirate on us runs ! — 
 Mark their manoeuv'ring ! — See, how the hell-hound shuns 
 
 T
 
 138 RELVEDDER. canto iv. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Our observation !" — Then a sudden gust 
 
 Swept swiftly by — Their foresail blew aside, 
 From whose wide screen a swivel gun did thrust 
 
 Its muzzle. — " Haul your wind," (the captain cried) 
 And through the ports did creeking cannon slide : 
 
 The pirate spoke not, but his gun's contents 
 Upon them rattled — scatt'ring far and wide 
 
 The splinters flew — The hanging sails were rent — 
 The smugglers scaped unhurt — A fierce broadside they sent 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 With vengeance great upon her dusky side. 
 
 At length so close she drew that all the shot 
 Flew o'er her deck within the ocean wide ; 
 
 The swarthy dogs upon the bowsprit got ; 
 Loud roar'd the muskets — Desperate ! — hot ! 
 
 Then raged the fight ! — The reeking blood did clot 
 Around the deck — The trembling masts were dyed — 
 
 Firmly they stood, determinM, nor a jot 
 From the dark robbers mov'd, tho' o'er their bows did flock 
 
 XL. 
 
 Increasing numbers — Men of ev'ry clime ; 
 
 The Spaniard — African — the Portugee, 
 Savage as wolf, fast o'er the sides did climb. 
 
 And curs'd and fought, as madly, furiously.
 
 CANTO IV. RELVEDDER. 139 
 
 O'er the red deck they riish'd — Plain could they see 
 That all was lost — The pirates prov'd too strong ; 
 
 Yet well they fought, and bore up manfully 
 Against th' infernal host. — Hollow and long 
 Did sound the dying groans ! — The spacious sea along 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Sped the deep moanings hanging o'er the flood. 
 
 Well fought Rklvedder, at his feet there lay 
 Four gasping pirates welt'ring in their blood : 
 
 He was the foremost in the sanguine fray ; 
 His sword-blade fell with fierce and deadly sway — 
 
 At length, exhausted, sank he on the ground. 
 The corsair captain then aloud did say, 
 
 " Bring forth your Spanish ! — Let us hear the sound 
 Of your doubloons ! — (He cast his fiendish eyes around 
 
 XLII. 
 Like fierce hyena searching for its prey.) 
 
 Or p'rhaps you mean that we should scour about 
 And search the ship ourselves — Belay ! — belay ! 
 
 It will not do, my men — So bowse it out ! 
 Overhaul your stowing holes ! — What! are ye stout ! — 
 
 Now, by my soul, I'll make you walk the plank !" 
 Then to his callous crew he loud did shout — 
 
 Quick came they forth, their hands with red blood dank 
 In which the cutlass gloamVl that precious life-blood drank !
 
 140 RELVEDDER. canto w. 
 
 XLIII. 
 " Quick prize the hatch, my lads I and search the hokl — 
 
 Look well about, and let no hole escape — 
 Within some secret place they've stow'd their gold — 
 
 By hell ! Fll make the strongest of them shake •' 
 Their stubborn blood, ay, drop by drop I'll take ! 
 
 The utmost torture shall be their reward ! 
 Their dying groans upon the air shall wake, 
 
 If they do aught this bus'ness to retard ! 
 What ! are ye silent, dogs?— Do ye then brave? — No word! 
 
 XLIV. 
 Fll ope your pipes, ye lubbers ! — Ho ! what ho •' 
 
 Ahoy, below!— ahoy !— Hath aught appear'd ?" 
 Just then two pirates came up from below. 
 
 Dragging forth Zanta, groaning and in tears. 
 " Ha ! (cried the captain, as the maiden near'd) — 
 
 A glorious prize •' — By heav'n ! a glorious prize •' 
 Come hither, maid — Those lovely eyes are blear'd 
 
 And dim with weeping — cease, I pray, those sighs — 
 For thou shalt be my bride — and on the instant dies 
 
 XLV. 
 
 Whoe'er shall harm a hair of that sweet head." 
 
 Up from the deck then quick Relvedder sprung — 
 
 Wild roird his eye — His hands were stain'd with red 
 
 His gaze a moment on the pirate hung,
 
 CANTO IV. RELVEDDER. 141 
 
 Then like a lion furiously he flung 
 
 With dreadful bound upon his hated foe. 
 
 Fierce was the fight — their flashing sabres rung ; 
 The noise attracted those in search below, 
 They on the deck appear'd just as the final blow 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 Upon the pirate's head about was falling. 
 
 They seiz'd Relvedder — bore him to the floor. 
 The wrathful captain to his crew was bawling, 
 
 " Make fast the villain to the cabin door •' 
 Belay his jaw ! — the lout ! — the swab ! — the boor ! 
 
 Sink me, but you're a useless set of dogs ! 
 Make fast his hands, ye lagging niggers ! — Sure 
 
 He'll overcome ye yet, ye brainless logs •' — 
 Unloose him from the shrouds ! ye pithless, sneaking slugs ! 
 
 XLVir. 
 Secure him there, whilst I descend below ; 
 
 And see ye bear those women to the sloop — 
 Damnation •' take him o'er the hands a blow, 
 
 Quick, with the cutlass— Hell ! — sever the loop 
 By which he's holding on ' — Ay, thou may^st whoop ! — 
 
 'Twill do, my lads — come, get the goods on deck — 
 Hoist up those boxes — I'll unto the poop — 
 
 Search well the vessel round — let naught ye check — 
 If aught should there turn up, ye will me quickly beck.
 
 142 RELVEDDER. canto iv. 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 By heav""!!, a sail •' — Away ! away ! away ! 
 
 Damn'd fortune ! — Quickly to the craft ! — I see 
 The women are on board, most luckily — 
 
 No time must fly — I see her on our lee ! — 
 Rig out the scudding sails — How lazily ! — 
 
 Hell fire ! get out the sails ! — Decks quickly clear — 
 Within the. distance soon I fear we'll be 
 
 Of her bow chaser ! — "'TIS done — Away we steer 
 Before the fav'ring gale — They cannot come us near !" — 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 And oh ! what horror struck Ri';lvedder''s heart. 
 
 When that dark vessel fled !— Oh ! God ! oh ! God ! 
 Thus from his wife and tender child to part ! 
 
 "Almighty Power, look from thy high abode 
 On my poor child ! — Hurl down thy vengeful rod 
 
 On those fell murderers ! — Oh ! heavy day ! 
 What fate will now be theirs ? — Oh ! dire forebode ! — 
 Oh ! heav'n and earth ! — -Why do ye men delay ? 
 Round with the vessel's head — Speed ! speed ! — Oh ! speed, 
 I pray ! 
 
 L. 
 
 See ! see ! — the ship of war will bear her down ! — 
 Sever these bands — Oh ! let my limbs be free ■ — 
 
 Oh •' whither, M'hithcr, dearest, art thou flown ? 
 Oh ! wife !— Oh ! child !— Oh ! utter misery !
 
 CANTO IV. RELVEDDER. 143 
 
 I cannot come, I cannot come to ye, 
 
 Sweet angels ! — Oh ! my languid blood doth freeze ! 
 My brain's on fire ! — See, men, see ! — See ! see ! see ! 
 1 see them on the deck low on their knees, 
 Before those callous fiends I — the blood-hounds of the seas!" 
 
 LI. :;; 
 
 Upon the deck he sank — he swoonM away — 
 
 They made all sail, and track'd the pirates' course 
 With broken hearts — At length the weary day 
 
 Vanish'd from view — Oh! heavy was the curse 
 That left Relveddlr's lips when from the sight 
 
 The vessel slowly sped !— Hollow and hoarse 
 The wild wind blew around — The vail of niffht 
 
 Was drear and dismal — with no star to sperse 
 And drive away the gloom. — Pix'd as a pallid corse 
 
 LIl. 
 
 Relvedder mutely stood — still was his eye — 
 
 A freezing sweat encircl'd ©""er his brow. 
 The smugglers thought he was about to die — 
 
 Down their hard cheeks the tear-drops fast did flow ; 
 Their faces burn'd with indignation's glow ; 
 
 Oh ! how they yearn 'd a deep revenge to take 
 On those dark villains ! — Carefully and slow 
 
 They bore Rklvrdder down — their souls did quake, 
 And shook with dread and fear lest he should ne'er awake. 
 
 %
 
 J44 RELVEDDER. canto iv. 
 
 LI II. 
 
 And when the morning broke they strain'd their eyes 
 
 O'er the wide water— nothing met their view 
 Save rolling billows — Through the hanging skies 
 
 Gloomy and humid sheets of vapour flew ; 
 Plaintive and sad the rising breezes blew, 
 
 And sigh'd, and sigli'd, as if in sad bewail 
 For their deep loss — Alas ! they too well knew 
 
 All hope was fled — The pirates' spacious sail 
 For aye had left their sight— They curs'd the misty vail 
 
 LIV. 
 
 That rose around and hid the distant seas. 
 
 For many days Relvi<;i>der senseless lay — 
 His brain was frenzied — Nothing could appease 
 
 His heart's deep anguish — There appeared no ray 
 To cheer his soul, or ease the woeful day 
 
 Of dreadful sufF'ring — All was void and drear. — 
 " My wife ! my child ! (the helpless man would say) 
 
 My lovely Zanta to my soul so dear ! 
 Oh ! God ! where art thou now ? — An awful horrid fear 
 
 LV. 
 
 Creeps through my mind, and curdles up my blood ! 
 
 Oh ! gracious heaven protect my harmless child 
 Oh ! thou great Being ! bountiful and good 
 
 Look down upon her ! — be to her a shield ! 
 
 I
 
 CANTO IV. RELVEDDER. 145 
 
 Thy utmost vengeance on the monster wield ! 
 
 She''s gone! she's gone! — so sweet was she! — so mild, 
 So like an angel I — Oh ! her doom is seal'd I 
 
 To lose her thus ! — Oh '• heaven I ray brain is wild \ 
 Oh! God! list to my prayer ! — protect my wife and child !" 
 
 Lvr. 
 
 Meanwhile, Olinvo, restless, track'd the sea ; 
 
 He reachM his native land, approach'd the hall, 
 His father's hall, where once so happily 
 
 Sped the sweet hours of youth — His days were gall ; 
 He sigh'd for Zanta, she, his life, his all.— 
 
 Again he cross'd the deep, and sought the dell, 
 He pass'd the brook, the quiv'ring aspen tall. 
 
 The well-known woodlands, and the limpid well, 
 On whose entangled bank he oft his love did tell. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 He cross'd the moat, approaclfd Rklvkdder's door; 
 
 He knock'd, and knock'' d — no answer was return'd : 
 He knew not what to think — " They cannot sure 
 
 Have left the castle !" — How his bosom burn'd ! — 
 Around the scene his anxious gaze he turn'd, 
 
 Naught met his sight save nature's Avild domain — 
 Stillness and peace were there — Oh ! how he ycarn'd ! 
 
 His heart beat violently, and then again 
 He'd thunder at the door — Bewilder'd was his brain. 
 
 u
 
 146 RELVEDDER. canto iv. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 Naught met his ear except the hollow sound 
 
 That echoM loudly through the building lone ; 
 What boding fears around his heart were wound. 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! sweet maid ! — and art thou gone ? 
 And am I left in solitude alone ? — 
 
 Oh ! whither ! whither ! hast thou ta'en thy flight. 
 Thou lovely star that with such lustre shone, 
 
 And lit my soul ? — Thou meteor bright 
 That cheer'd my gloomy path •' — All now to me is night !" 
 
 LIX. 
 
 The hall he left disconsolate and sad ; 
 
 He sought the beach — he found the smugglers' cave; 
 Those that remained to see him were most glad ; 
 
 They told him how Relvedder on the wave 
 Had long embark'd, to succour from the grave 
 
 His drooping daughter ! — How her health declin'd.— 
 He groan'd in anguish ! — His lone breast did grieve ! 
 
 He put to sea — He vow'd he would her find. 
 This sweet and beauteous flower ! — and benefactors kind ! 
 
 LX. 
 
 From clime to clime Relvedder sorrowing sped — 
 He search'd and searched — Alas ! 'twas all in vain — 
 
 He found them not — Oh ! how his bosom bled — 
 Lonely he wander'd overwhelm'd with pain.
 
 CANTO IV. RELVEDDER. 147 
 
 " And shall I never more behold again 
 
 Those loving smiles ? — that kind affection''s glow ? 
 Alas ! alas ! my life is on the wane ! 
 
 Oh I welcome death ! — come ! strike the fatal blow ! 
 Poise high thine awful dart, and ease me of my woe !" 
 
 LXI. 
 
 Time wing'd away, and still he wander'd on ; 
 
 Death came not near him — Sorrow sadly dwelt 
 Within his blighted heart— All hope was gone ! 
 
 And oh ! at times his witherM breast would melt, 
 And big tears trickle down — Alas ! he felt 
 
 A lonely wand'rer in this gloomy earth. — 
 " Oh ! that the pirate's sword my blood had spilt ! 
 
 Oh ! that it had !— Oh ! that Fd ne'er had birth ! 
 This world to me is naught ! — a wilderness ' a dearth •"'' 
 
 LXII. 
 Feeble and heart-broke he approached his home — 
 
 All was the same — the lakes, the woods, the grove ; 
 Oh ! at the sight a lengthen'd, hollow moan 
 
 Escap'd his burden'd soul — " My love ! my love ! 
 My child ! my child ! — Oh ! whither dost thou rove ? 
 
 And thee, sweet wife ! I ne'er again shall see ! 
 Oh ! never ! never ! in the skies above 
 
 Thou hast thy dwelling— Naught is left for me 
 But everlasting grief, despair and misery •'"
 
 148 RELVEDDER. canto iv. 
 
 LXUI. 
 Years roll'd away — long, wretched years of woe ! 
 
 And found him still a lonely, hapless man : 
 Like troubled ghost along the sands he^l go 
 
 At night's still hour, beneath the glimm'rings wan 
 From heedless moon. — His straining sight would scan 
 
 The shade-wrapp'd ocean — then an anguisli'd groan, 
 Plaintive and low, upon the breezes ran. 
 
 From his sad heart — The waves loud swelling moan 
 ScofF'd his deep heavy grief with harsh discordant tone. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 One dreary morn when dismal was the sky. 
 
 And billows dash'd with heart-appalling roar, 
 When through the concave sable clouds did fly. 
 
 And timid sea-birds rapidly did soar ; 
 When lightnings split the rising summit's hoar 
 
 Of firm-set rocks, and thunder peals awoke, 
 A pallid corse stretch'd on the groaning shore 
 
 Struck the shock'd sight — Death rent the heavy yoke — 
 Relveddeu lifeless lay ! — his troubled heart had broke ! 
 
 END OF llELVEDDEK.
 
 BARON KOLFF
 
 BARON KOLFF. 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 On Odenwald's high tow'ring height, 
 
 Above the Rhine so pure and bright, 
 
 A castle once rear'd up its form ; 
 
 It long had brav'd the howling storm, 
 
 But now in ruin low it lies ; 
 
 Its turrets high that to the skies 
 
 Once proudly rear'd, Ioav on the ground 
 
 Cast forth their crumbling dust around. 
 
 The gloomy firs wave to and fro. 
 
 And throw their shadows deep below 
 
 Upon the ruins, and the beech 
 
 Their giant arms in clusters reach 
 
 O'er the gray arches, through their shade 
 
 A single tower (which seems afraid 
 
 That cv*'ry hour will be its last) 
 
 Rears its dun form, round which tiie blast
 
 152 BARON KOLFF. canto i. 
 
 In sweeping gusts is wildly rattling, 
 
 And on its loosen'd stones is battling. 
 
 A many years are pass'd and gone 
 
 Since Baron Kolff call'd it his home. 
 
 He was a social, gay old man; 
 
 With pleasure, round his eyes would scan 
 
 The noble building, which he knew 
 
 Was solely his : his glances flew 
 
 Around the woods so vast and wild ; 
 
 He chuckled to himself and smiFd. 
 
 The gloomy castles that arose 
 
 From out the trees in deep repose 
 
 Were all vacated ; none save he 
 
 Remain'd where tempests furiously 
 
 Bellowed and raged : he was alone. 
 
 Like eagle on the mountain lone. 
 
 The German nobles long had fled 
 
 From their high homes, and sought the bed 
 
 Of flow'ry valleys, and had rais'd 
 
 Convenient halls. The wild deer graz'd. 
 
 And sported o'er the verdant dales 
 
 Which roaring tempest ne'er assails. 
 
 His ancestors were bold and free. 
 
 And much impair'd their wealth, yet he 
 
 Invariably contrived to make 
 
 Some shew of their once former state.
 
 CANTO I. BARON KOLFF. I53 
 
 There then he dwelt within his tower, 
 
 The cloud of war had ceas'd to lower, 
 
 And cherishinof within his heart 
 
 Old foolish feuds — he was apart, 
 
 And on ill terms and hatred fell 
 
 With those who near his house did dwell, 
 
 For naught on earth that I can hear, 
 
 Save some dispute in bygone year 
 
 Between their stubborn fathers old, 
 
 Who now were in death's slumber cold. 
 
 He had a daughter, only one — 
 
 Her charms with lovely beauty shone ; 
 
 She was the apple of his eye, 
 
 She fill'd his soul with ecstasy ; 
 
 He lov''d her more than aught beside. 
 
 And never was her known to chide. 
 
 For nature, as is oft the case, 
 
 When granting one, with ev'ry grace 
 
 Decks the lone gift, and so was she 
 
 With beauty gifted lavishly. 
 
 The country cousins that beset 
 
 The hall for what they there could get. 
 
 The gossips, nurses, all agreed, 
 
 (And who could contradict their creed ?) 
 
 And did assure the doting Baron 
 
 There was not in the Turkish harem
 
 X54 BARON KOLFF. canto t. 
 
 A maiden half so fair as she — 
 
 His old heart leap'd about with glee. 
 
 She had moreover 'neath the care 
 
 Of two old maiden aunts been rear'd, 
 
 Whose heads with knowledge great were rife. 
 
 Who'd spent some early years of life 
 
 Within a German court. — Alert 
 
 They were of this young damsel pert. 
 
 And skill'd they were in e'/ry art 
 
 That could to female charms impart 
 
 Or add a grace to nature's powY 
 
 They were two wither'd dames and sour — 
 
 And buzz'd about their tender charge 
 
 Like moths around the taper large. 
 
 Beneath the counsel of the dame 
 
 A miracle she soon became ; 
 
 Whole yards of silk she Avould embroider, 
 
 And draw a line like thread of spider : 
 
 And she had work'd the saints of old 
 
 Upon the tapestry, each fold 
 
 Did such grim images display. 
 
 Such faces on the cloth did play, 
 
 That they appearM to passers by 
 
 Like hapless souls in purgat''ry. — 
 
 Already had she spelPd her way 
 
 Through sev'ral legends old and gray ;
 
 CANTO I. BARON KOLFF. 155 
 
 And writing too — her name could sign 
 
 With well-turn ''d hair strokes clean and fine, 
 
 And rightly place each rising letter — 
 
 It could not be, I trow, done better. 
 
 And then for dancing — did excel 
 
 In grace the sprightly woodland bell 
 
 When waving in the balmy gales 
 
 Which o'er the fragrant verdure wails : 
 
 Her tiny feet were aye in motion. 
 
 Like ripples of the glistening ocean : 
 
 And she could sing so soft and sweet 
 
 That those who heard afraid would break 
 
 Their swelling hearts, so sad and tender 
 
 Were the sweet notes she did engender. 
 
 And then her harp and light guitar 
 
 Would tingle in the glens afar ; 
 
 The hind would linger as he passM, 
 
 As to his listening ear were cast 
 
 The rising strains. Such notes before 
 
 Had ne'er been heard upon the shore 
 
 On which the waters of the Rhine 
 
 Flow sweetly on in circles fine. 
 
 And flash with gold like glist'ning amber, 
 
 As through the gloomy woods they wander.— 
 
 Her aunts had been in early youth 
 
 Coquettes and flirts, and were in sooth
 
 156 BARON KOLFF. canto i. 
 
 In their opinion fit to be 
 
 Guardians and censors strict of she. 
 
 For there is not on earth I trow, 
 
 'Mongst all the mighty host below, 
 
 None half so prudent as that set, 
 
 The old and wrinkl'd vain coquette. 
 
 And rarely was slie from their sight. 
 
 Like laughing morn and gloomy night 
 
 Appear'd the group — she all laughter. 
 
 And they like shadows gliding after- 
 
 And she was watch'd where"'er she went, 
 
 And servants by the aunts were sent 
 
 To bear her comp'ny if she strayM 
 
 Beyond her father's neighb'ring glade. 
 
 Long tiresome lectures then were read. 
 
 The jargon tingl'd in her head, 
 
 About decorum, reservation, 
 
 And all the duties of her station. 
 
 And as for men — Oh Lord ! oh Lord ! 
 
 So quickly flow'd word after word, 
 
 And with such emphasis, that she, 
 
 Laugh'd in their face immoderately. 
 
 In such distrust then she was tauaht 
 
 To hold the men, and was so fraught 
 
 With what the wrinkld dames had taught her, 
 
 An angel scarcely could have cauuht her.
 
 CANTO I. BARON KOLFF. 157 
 
 And underneath this strange tuition 
 
 There was no fearing a collision 
 
 'Tween her and any of the swains 
 
 That dwelt upon the neighb'ring plains. 
 
 However it was quite apparent — 
 
 Her charms each day grew more transparent. 
 
 She was so docile and correct, 
 
 The slightest word her longings check'd. 
 
 Whilst others to the Avide world's glare 
 
 Exposed their virgin features fair, 
 
 And wasted their resplendent beauty — 
 
 She was retired, the child of duty. 
 
 She was in truth a lovely maid ! 
 
 The tender flow'ret in the glade. 
 
 That opes its modest leaves of blue 
 
 To catch the limpid drops of dew, 
 
 Was not more lovely — On my honor 
 
 The hardest heart had doted on her ! — 
 
 And then her eyes so sweetly beaming 
 
 Were brighter than the stars revealinij 
 
 Their pure orbs through the haze of night. 
 
 When Phoebus hath retired from sight ! 
 
 Her skin was whiter than the flakes 
 
 Of snow that on the mountain takes 
 
 Its lofty scat — so pure, so clear — 
 
 No hated freckle did appear ;
 
 158 BARON KOLFF. canto t. 
 
 But all was polish'd, smooth, and fair, 
 As ocean 'neath the summer air ! 
 In simple truth she was perfection — 
 Of her a king had made selection. 
 Her aunts gaz'd on her now with pride, 
 They never left her — at her side 
 They constant were, and loudly talk'd 
 As 'neath the rustling trees they walk'd. 
 And they would boast of their ability, 
 Of their decorum and gentility. 
 And said she'd ne"'er been such a wonder 
 If she had not their wings been under. 
 " And though all others go astray. 
 And waste their time in folly, play. 
 Yet, thanks to heaven, our lovely ward, 
 The tender flow'r we watchful guard, 
 Will never from our precepts stray." — 
 Thus spake the maidens on their way. 
 But though the Baron's heirs were few. 
 His household hourly 'fore him grew, 
 For Providence had kindly granted. 
 Instead of children, which he wanted, 
 A host of needy poor relations. 
 And they were always at their stations. 
 They one and all possess'd affection, 
 They lov'd the Baron to distraction,
 
 CANTO I, BARON KOLFF. 159 
 
 And never fail'd on each occasion 
 Of the old hall to make invasion. 
 They came in swarms unto the castle, 
 The huge walls tingled with the rattle 
 Their tongues made in the Baron's praise : 
 They would remain whole nights and days — 
 All festivals commemorated — 
 And when with cheer they were elated, 
 They would declare there was no pleasure 
 Like kind relations met together. 
 
 The Baron, though of small dimension, 
 Had a soul of wondrous extension. 
 And then his heart would bound with joy 
 As round his guests his glance would fly, 
 To think he was the greatest being 
 Of all the group he then was seeing. 
 He lov'd to tell long tedious story 
 About stark, stubborn warriors hoary : 
 No list'ners found he to his tale 
 Like those who at his cost regale — 
 He placed belief in superstition ; 
 His ears most anxiously would listen. 
 When aught of wonder was related. 
 His appetite would ne''er be sated.
 
 160 BARON KOLFF. 
 
 CANTO 1. 
 
 The talcs of cv'ry German mountain, 
 Dark cavern, dell, or haunted fountain, 
 He did believe, and was most piqued 
 At those who such accounts dislik'd. 
 And then his guests believed each word 
 That ancient legends did record, 
 And though for hundredth time repeated, 
 Declared they charmingly were treated. 
 Thus liv'd the Baron — happy man ! 
 His praises round the table ran ; 
 The monarch was he of his dwelling ; 
 His buoyant heart was ever swelling, 
 And beating proudly in his breast. 
 To think how he outshone the rest : 
 The wisest man of any nation 
 He thought he was — ay, since creation ! 
 
 Just at the time this story treats 
 There'd been a gathering for weeks 
 Of all the Baron's poor dependants, 
 Cousins, uncles, and attendants. 
 'T-w^as to receive for his sweet daughter 
 A bridegroom fi om across the water, 
 Who now was wending on his way 
 To see the beauteous maiden gay,
 
 CANTO I. BARON KOLFF. 161 
 
 Whose father was by him respected, 
 All others he would have neglected, 
 - He thought so much of this old vet'ran, 
 For of himself he was the pattern. 
 The Baron had agreed to tether 
 His daughter and the youth together. 
 In fact, the old men long ago 
 Determined that it should be so ; 
 For they had often o"'er their glass 
 Vow'd oft and oft that come to pass 
 It surely should, though ever after 
 The whole world was convuls'd with laughter. 
 And so betroth'd they surely were. 
 She'd ne'er seen him, nor had he her. 
 The time for marriage was selected, 
 The guests did anxiously expect it, 
 And thought upon the dainty fare 
 That then would fall unto their share. 
 
 Recall 'd the Count was from the forces. 
 The rolling drum, the neighing horses. 
 And all the charms of stirring war. 
 To mount sweet hymen's blissful car. 
 And now was far upon his way 
 To tie the knot without delay ; 
 
 Y
 
 162 BARON KOLFF. canto i. 
 
 And missives from him they'd received ; 
 They were most wondrously pleased, 
 When he set down the very hour 
 They might expect him at their tower. 
 
 And now the hall with preparation, 
 To welcome this fine new relation. 
 With tumult great did fairly roar ; 
 The echoes on the neighb'ring shore 
 Did plainly tell all those without 
 That something strange was coming out. 
 The maid was deck'd with taste and care, 
 In sooth she did look wond'rous fair ! — 
 The aunts attended her toilet. 
 And all the morn did naught but fret 
 About the robe she was to wear, 
 And how she was to dress her hair. 
 She'd ta'en advantage of the contest, 
 And sorted those she lik'd the best ; 
 And did in truth look quite delightful. 
 Although the dames were rather spiteful. 
 The blushes that play''d o'er her face. 
 And on her neck did sweetly race. 
 The gentle heaving of her bosom, 
 That rose and fell like air-urg'd blossom,
 
 CANTO I. BARON KOLFF. 163 
 
 The timid glances of lier eye, 
 
 The thoughtful mood — the rising sigh, 
 
 Betray'd the soft and sweet commotion 
 
 That put her little heart in motion. 
 
 The aunts a moment never left her, 
 
 To what they said they did expect her 
 
 To pay attention, and deport her 
 
 In such a way as they had taught her. — 
 
 The Baron glided through the castle, 
 
 His tongue made one continual rattle ; 
 
 In fact he had not much to do, 
 
 Yet still he through the mansion flew, 
 
 And buzz'd about just like a fly 
 
 When summer sun is riding high. 
 
 He could not be a moment passive, 
 
 He mounted up the staircase massive. 
 
 Then down again he'd quickly fly 
 
 With air of great anxiety. 
 
 Meantime the fatted calf had fell — 
 
 The fowls were slain — the cock would tell 
 
 No more the hour when rnom awoke, 
 
 The cook his portly neck had broke. 
 
 The gloomy forest had resounded 
 
 And answerW back the horns which sounded
 
 164 BARON KOLFF. canto i. 
 
 } 
 
 From eager huntsmen, strong and able, 
 
 Who'd sallied out to deck the table. 
 
 The kitchen groan'd with sav'ry fare. 
 
 And appetising odours rare 
 
 In steams hung on the sultry air. 
 
 The cellars yielded up their wine 
 
 In ruby streams — delightful, fine ! 
 
 The ponderous tun's great bung was started, 
 
 And with the sparkling juice it parted. 
 
 To greet the guest were all things ready, 
 
 With joy the Baron's head was giddy ; 
 
 But yet he came not — great surprise 
 
 Was seen within the Baron's eyes. — 
 
 Hour roll'd on hour — they were perplex'd — 
 
 The Baron mightily was vex'd. 
 
 Thought followed thought within his brain — 
 
 As daylight died around the plain. 
 
 The sinking sun with golden beam 
 Upon the mountain tops did gleam, 
 And shot its amber streak of li^ht 
 Along the ocean's bosom bright ; 
 The dark, rich forests deep below 
 Were slightly burnished with the glow, 
 Their wide and waving foliage green 
 Reflected in the glassy stream.
 
 CANTO 1. BARON KOLFF. 165 
 
 It was the lovely close of day ; 
 The scene in tranquil slumber lay. 
 The Baron topp'cl the highest tower, 
 His eyes he strain'd with all his power, 
 In hopes of catching through the haze, 
 Before the sun'd withdrawn its rays. 
 The noble Count with speed advancing — 
 He long'd to see the horses prancing. 
 The last ray shot athwart the blue ; 
 The road grew dimmer to the view, 
 And nothing cross^l the dusky gray, 
 Save peasant lagging on his way.
 
 BARON KOLFF. 
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 We leave things thus upon the mount, 
 
 To see what hath befell the Count. 
 
 He slowly mov'd upon the road, 
 
 In sober, jog-trot way he rode, 
 
 As men do when their friends, kind creatures ! 
 
 Have only seen the fair one's features, 
 
 And all the trouble great of wooino- 
 
 Has wholely been of their own doing. 
 
 So certain was he of his bride, 
 
 'Tis no surprise he slow did ride. 
 
 He had encounter'd on his way 
 
 A youthful friend, who, in the fray, 
 
 With him had on the frontiers been : 
 
 A braver youth was rarely seen 
 
 A bolder heart, or stouter hand. 
 Was not within the warlike land ;
 
 CANTO II. BARON KOLFF. 167 
 
 The brightest flow'r in sooth was he 
 
 Of all the German chivalry ! 
 
 And now was wending on his way, 
 
 A visit to his sire to pay, 
 
 Whose castle was not far from where 
 
 The Baron's hall its towers did rear ; 
 
 Although some foolish feud of old 
 
 Had render\l them reserv''d and cold. 
 
 And then the Count to him related 
 
 How for him now a bride awaited, 
 
 One whom his eyes had never seen, 
 
 Nor had a single word between 
 
 Himself and her been interchanged — 
 
 Their fathers had the whole arranged : 
 
 But that report had spoke her fair, 
 
 A gem of beauty — pure and rare ! 
 
 More lovely than the eve-star's rays 
 
 That on the slumb'ring ocean plays ! — 
 
 They did agree to ride together : 
 
 That they might travel more at leisure 
 
 They started early in the morn. 
 
 Just as the lark sprang from the corn. 
 
 From Wurtzburg then they took their way ; 
 
 The Count gave orders unto they. 
 
 His retinue, to follow quick. 
 
 And join them in the forest thick.
 
 168 BARON KOLFR canto tt. 
 
 They wliiled the way with recollections 
 Of fierce campaigns, and hot contentions. 
 Of noble deeds done in the war, 
 In distant burning climes afar. 
 The Count occasionally would be 
 Tiresome about the beauteous she ; 
 Of her reputed charms he talk'd 
 As 'neath the trees the horses walk'd, 
 And of the great felicity 
 That soon his lot to taste would be. 
 And in this way they journeyM on ; 
 The sun behind the clouds had gone ; 
 They got amongst the mountains high ; 
 The bracing breeze around did fly : 
 They enter'd 'neath a dark wood vast. 
 Whose tangled floor ne'er felt the blast. 
 But slept in gloomy, deep repose ; 
 No lily bell or crimson rose 
 Cast forth their sweets — the deadly plant 
 There flourish'd 'midst the marshes dank. 
 Gigantic pine trees, sable, dark, ^ 
 
 With chalky trunks devoid of bark, t 
 
 Frown'd fiercely down like warriors stark. ) 
 The German woods, 'tis known full well. 
 Within their depths fierce robbers dwell, 
 Wrathful as tiger, in whose breast
 
 CANTO u. HARON KOLFF. IQQ 
 
 No trait of virtue's seen to rest, 
 
 But dark and hated vice abounds, 
 
 In bands they take their silent rounds. 
 
 Their hated hordes were much increased, 
 
 By wreckless soldiers now released 
 
 From their restraint — who caught with glee 
 
 At this vile trade of infamy. 
 
 It will not now appear a wonder 
 
 That on the Cavaliers did thunder 
 
 A gang of these detested men 
 
 With up-rais'd sword and atagan : 
 
 And though they did themselves defend 
 
 With utmost skill, and home did send 
 
 Some deadly thrusts, yet were they so 
 
 Encompass'd round with their dark foe, 
 
 Nigh overpower'd they kiss'd the ground 
 
 Just as the bugle horn did sound 
 
 From those who follow''d in the rear. 
 
 Oh ! how its notes rejoiced their car ! — 
 
 At sight of them the robbers fled — 
 
 The sward around was dyed with red — 
 
 But oh ! alas ! the truth to tell. 
 
 The noble Count had sadly fell 
 
 To rise no more, for from his side 
 
 His life-stream gush'd ! — a crimson tide ! — 
 
 To Wurtzburg they convey 'd him back 
 
 Along the same wild tangled track
 
 170 BARON KOLFF. canto it. 
 
 } 
 
 On which so short a time before 
 
 He'd been so joyous ! — now his gore 
 
 Besprent the rising verdure o'er ! 
 
 And so it is ! our fondest joys 
 
 Turn often to the keenest sighs, 
 
 And leave the prospect bright and fair 
 
 Gloomy and cheerless — woe, despair. 
 
 Creep round our souls, and seem to say, 
 
 This earth's vain thoughts lead but to they. — 
 
 They summon'd then a holy friar ; 
 
 Afraid they were he would expire 
 
 Ere he arrived — he nigh was dead — 
 
 The Cavalier hung o'er his bed. 
 
 And gaz'd with sorrow on his friend, 
 
 Alas ! alas ! so near his end ! 
 
 And with his dying breath so low 
 
 He told his grieving friend to go 
 
 Unto the Baron's, and explain 
 
 The sad mishap — that death had ta'en 
 
 His youthful life — he bid him fly. — 
 
 " Unless 'tis done I shall not lie 
 
 In peace within the gloomy tomb — 
 
 My spirit restlessly will roam." 
 
 These last sad words he did repeat 
 
 With great emotion, strong and deep. 
 
 The Cavalier stretch'd forth his hand 
 
 In solemn pledge. " The fell brigand
 
 CANTO It. BARON KOLPF. 171 
 
 That dealt to thee this mortal blow, 
 
 Oh ! that he was my steel below ! 
 
 His dying groans would music be ! 
 
 Alas ! alas ! he's murder'd thee ! 
 
 Thy latest wish shall be obey'd — 
 
 Alas ! the light is turned to shade ! 
 
 An hour ago was joy revealing. 
 
 And now the phantom death is stealing r — 
 
 Delirium seized the Count again, 
 
 A fire was burning in his brain, 
 
 He raved about his lovely bride, 
 
 His plighted word, and at her side 
 
 He vow'd he'd be. He call'd his horse, 
 
 Then down he fell a ghastly corse, 
 
 Just as he in his fancy thought 
 
 The hanging reins heVl firmly caught. 
 A sigh escap'd his friend's full heart, 
 The tear-drops from his eye did start, 
 His bosom heav'd with sorrow's throe. 
 At this un though t-of dreadful blow ; 
 And then he ponder'd on the mission — 
 Unto his grief it was addition — 
 A guest unbidden he must go, 
 And they his father's hated foe, 
 And damp their mirth with tidings sad, 
 And unto woe turn moments glad.
 
 172 BARON KOLFF. canto ti. 
 
 But still within his breast arose 
 
 A Avish to see the blooming rose, 
 
 This far-fam'd beauty, who so long 
 
 Had been secluded from the throngf. 
 
 For an admirer great was he 
 
 Of woman — unto ecstasy 
 
 He loved the sex, and would have traced 
 
 The direst passes of the waste, 
 
 And fronted danger's utmost might 
 
 Of some sweet nymph to have the sight. 
 
 And gaze upon her beauties bright. 
 
 Besides there was within his nature 
 
 One striking and peculiar feature, 
 
 Which made him fond of strange adventures, 
 
 Wondrous exploits, and hardy ventures. 
 
 But ere he sped upon his way 
 
 He did arrangements make with they, 
 
 The convent's holy men of God, 
 
 To see him to his last abode. 
 
 In Wurtzburg's old cathedral he 
 
 Was to repose from sorrow free. 
 
 4
 
 BARON KOLFF. 
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 'Tis now high time tliat we should turn 
 Unto the castle, where did burn 
 Impatiently a many hearts. 
 The Baron oft in anxious starts 
 Would from the sofa quickly rise, 
 Approach the window — cast his eyes 
 Around the prospect — naught appeared 
 To ease his mind — his bosom fear'd 
 That something wrong had come to pass — 
 He gave a sigh, and cried, alas ! 
 Besides, the guests griev'd for their dinner ; 
 Their waists each hour were getting thinner ; 
 The sav'ry smells they snufF'd most eager, 
 And longer grew their faces meagre.
 
 174 BARON KOLFF. 
 
 CANTO in. 
 
 The daylight fled — night closed around, 
 
 And still no sign or slightest sound 
 
 Bespoke the coming of the guest : 
 
 The Baron's heart was ill at rest. 
 
 The banquet, which untasted laid 
 
 Hour after hour, could be delay 'd 
 
 No longer, for the meats were spoiling ; 
 
 The cook in agony was broiling. 
 
 The Baron did in great disorder 
 
 Reluctantly the banquet order 
 
 To be dish'd up without the guest ; 
 
 The poor relations loud him blest, 
 
 And said it was a wise proceeding ; 
 
 They thought of naught but gratis feeding. 
 
 So at the table all were seated, 
 
 The feast was fine — grace was repeated, 
 
 And each a morsel choice had found. 
 
 When lo ! a horn's loud piercing sound 
 
 Resounded the huge building round. 
 
 Another blast the courts did fill ; 
 
 The echoes flew from hill to hill ; 
 
 The warder answered from the walls, 
 
 And down the heavy drawbridge falls. 
 
 The Baron hastened to the door ; 
 
 A perspiration mantled o'er 
 
 His hairless head — his small gray eye 
 
 Did on the portly stranger lie.
 
 CANTO III. BARON KOLFF. 175 
 
 He was a gallant cavalier ; 
 
 His steed was black as midnight drear ; 
 
 His countenance was pale and wan ; 
 
 No rosy tints in beauty ran ; 
 
 But then he had within his eye 
 
 An air of stately melancholy. 
 
 The Baron much was mortified 
 
 To think that he alone should ride, 
 
 And come in such a simple style : 
 
 A frown chased off the welcome smile — 
 
 His dignity was somewhat hurt — 
 
 " To come alone !" — he did in short 
 
 Feel much surprised — but yet, thought he. 
 
 The Count might ride impatiently 
 
 With youthful ardour, like the wind, 
 
 And leave his retinue behind. 
 
 " I'm sorry, (cried the Cavalier,) 
 
 At such a season to appear, 
 
 But" — Here the Baron stopp'd him quick, 
 
 His compliments and greetings thick 
 
 Fell tingling in the stranger's cars 
 
 Like jarring of contending spears. 
 
 Plain truth to speak, most proud was he 
 
 Of eloquence and courtesy. 
 
 The stranger once or twice again 
 
 Did try the stream of words to stem,
 
 176 BARON KOLFF. canto hi. 
 
 In vain he tried, so bow'd his head, 
 
 And follow'd as the Baron led. 
 
 They now had reach'd the inner hall ; 
 
 The Baron's words begun to fall 
 
 Not quite so fast — the stranger then 
 
 To speak his mind tried once again 
 
 Without effect, for now advanced 
 
 The females. — At the stranger glanced 
 
 The gaudy group with curious eye. 
 
 And faces ting'd with scarlet dye. 
 
 And then came forth the blushing bride, 
 
 Shrinking and bashful — at her side 
 
 The maiden aunts with forms erect 
 
 SteppM stately forward — they were deck'd 
 
 With yards on yards of costly lace ; 
 
 The vile rouge on their wither'd face 
 
 Amongst the dinted wrinkles shone ; 
 
 Their cheeks glared like a bantam's comb.— 
 
 The Cavalier, as one entranced, 
 
 Gaz'd on the maid as she advanced. 
 
 For never had he seen before 
 
 In all his life, on any shore. 
 
 So sweet a form — his piercing eye 
 
 Enraptured on the nymph did lie. 
 
 One of the aunts then whisper'd low ; 
 
 A rich, Vermillion, beaming glow
 
 CANTO lit. BARON KOLFF. 177 
 
 Suffused the maiden's lovely cheek; 
 
 Her sweet lips raov'd — She tried to speak — 
 
 She gently rais'd her moist blue eye 
 
 Unto the stranger — then a sigh 
 
 Crept from her bosom as it fell, 
 
 And slept within its silken cell. 
 
 Her words in whispers died away, 
 
 But on her lips a smile did play ; 
 
 A dimpling round her cheeks' rich dye 
 
 That show'd her glance had ge'en her joy. 
 
 For "twas impossible a maid, 
 
 Rear''d=in the solitary shade. 
 
 And at the age of sweet eighteen, 
 
 Could otherwise than smitten been 
 
 With such a gallant Cavalier : 
 
 In truth he charming did appear. 
 
 The hour was late — no time must fly 
 
 In parley — To the hall they hie. 
 
 A word the Baron would not hear 
 
 Until the morning — and he near 
 
 Drew tow'rds his guest, and led him on 
 
 Unto the banquet, where had gone 
 
 His hungry friends with appetite 
 
 That show'd the food would soon take flight. 
 
 2 A
 
 178 BARON KOLFF. canto m. 
 
 Within a spacious hall so great 
 
 Was serv'd up this long-lookM-for treat. 
 
 Around the massy walls of oak 
 
 Portraits the tiresome sameness broke, 
 
 Of heroes of his ancient race 
 
 Who in the gory battle's face 
 
 Themselves distinguish'd, and they frown'd 
 
 Upon the gath'ring group around. 
 
 HackM coats of mail, and broken spears, 
 
 And shields that oft in other years 
 
 Had saved their wearers from the blow, 
 
 Which otherwise had laid them \ov^ 
 
 Hung round the walls begrim"'d with rust : 
 
 The jaws of wolf — the boar's huge tusk, 
 
 And other spoils of sylvan sport, 
 
 GrinnM horridly around the court, 
 
 'Mong cross-bow, battle-axe and dirk, 
 
 And all the tools of bloody work : 
 
 And by some most unlucky chance, 
 
 A full-grown stag's huge horns did branch, 
 
 And shot the bridegroom's head above 
 
 As he was talking to his love. 
 
 But of the guests the Cavalier 
 
 Took little notice, and the cheer 
 
 He scarcely tasted. To the maid 
 
 He talk'd in whispers, as afraid
 
 CANTO III. BARON KOLFF. 179 
 
 His converse should be overheard : 
 The group caught not a single word. 
 But where's the female ear so dull, 
 That from her lover's words can't cull 
 The faintest whisper that bespeaks 
 The love for which her bosom breaks ?— 
 There was combined a tenderness 
 And gravity in his address, 
 That seem'd to have a wondrous pow'r 
 Upon the maid. — At times would low'r 
 A cloud upon his snow-white brow, 
 And then a heavy sigh would flow 
 From his full heart : and then her eyes 
 To his romantic form would rise ; 
 And now and then she made reply 
 With blushing cheek of damask dye. 
 And when his eye was turn'd aside, 
 Her timid glance would slowly glide, 
 And rest upon his handsome face : 
 Sweet love within her heart took place. 
 'Twas plainly seen they were enamour'd ; 
 The aunts to one another stammer'd 
 That at first sight young cupid's dart 
 Had quiver'd in their youthful heart. 
 And merrily the feast went on — 
 The happy guests, ay, ev'ry one,
 
 180 BARON KOLFF. canto in. 
 
 Were bless'd with such an appetite, 
 
 As always doth on those alight 
 
 Whose purses are not brimming o'er, 
 
 And who upon the mountain hoar 
 
 Take up their stations, and inhale 
 
 The stomach-edging, bracing gale. — 
 
 The Baron told his longest story ; 
 
 His gray eyes 'neath the lashes hoary 
 
 Did fairly shoot forth rays of fire ; 
 
 The cousins greatly did admire 
 
 The happy manner he related 
 
 The story that had been repeated 
 
 Some hundred times — with faces lauirhino-. 
 
 They prais'd away whilst they were quaffino- 
 
 The gen'rous juice, and said that no man 
 
 Had ever yet been born of woman 
 
 That could in such recitals vie 
 
 With him, the pride of Germany. 
 
 And many things were said besides 
 
 By poorer wits, who had their sides 
 
 Nigh bursting with the jolly wine 
 
 That round the oaken board did shine : 
 
 But what they said wont bear repeating ; 
 
 They on the maids were slily peeping : 
 
 And words were dropp'd in list'ning ears 
 
 Most comical, no doubt, since tears
 
 CANTO III. BARON KOLFF. 181 
 
 Ran from their eyes with bursts of laughter, 
 
 Which shook the buikling, roof and rafter. 
 
 And now and then a song would creep 
 
 From some broad face who sly did peep 
 
 From out a shaded corner's gloom 
 
 That fairly did convulse the room. 
 
 'Midst all this revelry and joy, 
 
 The Cavalier most sing"larly 
 
 Maintain'd a gravity and gloom ; 
 
 He heeded not those in the room ; 
 
 And as the ev'ning did advance 
 
 His eyes cast forth a wilder glance, 
 
 And though most strange it doth appear 
 
 The Baron's jokes did fail to cheer 
 
 His great dejection, but they more 
 
 A deeper shade his face cast ©""er. 
 
 At times he seemVl enwrapp'd in thought ; 
 
 His bosom seem'd with sorrow fraught ; 
 
 And then his wand'ring, restless eye. 
 
 And countenance so melanch'ly ; 
 
 The rise and falling of his breast 
 
 Bespoke a mind but ill at rest. 
 
 And then his converse with the bride 
 
 Flow'd in a more mysterious tide. 
 
 And more and more it earnest grew ; 
 
 The tear stood in her eye of blue ;
 
 182 BARON KOLFF. canto hi. 
 
 And gloomy clouds began to low'r, 
 And steal her beauteous forehead o'er. 
 This conduct could not long escape 
 The wond'ring guests — they wide did gape — 
 They knew not how to it construe ; 
 Alternately their glances flew 
 Upon the Baron and their guest, 
 Then on each other they would rest : 
 Their mirth and gaiety were chilFd ; 
 The laughter by his gloom was kill'd ; 
 Their buoyant spirits were infected — 
 They cried, " whoever could expect it !" — 
 Whispers and glances were exchang'd ; 
 They thought the Cavalier derang'd : 
 Shrugs and dubious shakes of head 
 Around the table quickly spread. 
 The song and joke grew less and less ; 
 No longer they the maids caress ; 
 And in the converse pauses dreary 
 ShowM how they all began to weary. 
 And then wild dismal tales and legends, 
 'Bout fiends and the infernal regions. 
 Fell spectre knights, and horses sable. 
 Began to creep around the table. 
 And tale succeeded tale until 
 The Baron near the maids did kill.
 
 CANTO III. BARON KOLFF. 183 
 
 About the goblin horseman wlio 
 
 Took fair Le'nora unto woe : 
 
 A dreadful story, but too true ; 
 
 It shot their blood a horror through, 
 
 And near into hysterics went they, 
 
 And some were slowly heard to pray. 
 
 The bridegroom listen'd to it all 
 
 With deep attention, and did fall 
 
 His large black eye upon his host : 
 
 With heat the Baron nigh did roast. 
 
 Soon as the story had an end. 
 
 His sight upon the bride did bend ; 
 
 Heaving a deep and heavy sigh, 
 
 Prepared to leave the company. 
 
 The Baron thunderstruck was quite ; 
 
 Sad fears upon his soul did light. 
 
 " Why, how is this ?— Art going away 
 
 At midnight hour ? — Why not till day 
 
 Within the castle walls remain ? — 
 
 A chamber's ready." — On his brain 
 
 His hand the stranger firmly prest — 
 
 He shook his head — " My form must rest 
 
 Within a difF'rent hall to night ! — 
 
 Where never shone the cheerful light." 
 
 And there was in this brief reply 
 
 Something that made the Baron's eye
 
 184 BARON KOLFF. canto iit. 
 
 Disclose its full orb to the view : 
 
 A tremor shot his body through — 
 
 His heart misgave him — yet did he 
 
 Repeat his hospitality. 
 
 The stranger gravely shook his head — 
 
 Refused each offer — then he fled 
 
 Prom out the hall, and stalk"'d away 
 
 Along the gloomy court yard gray. 
 
 The aunts were nearly petrified, 
 
 They shook with terror, and the bride 
 
 In sorrow hung her lovely head ; 
 
 A tear stole from its crystal bed. 
 
 The Baron quick the stranger follow'd 
 
 (The mountain wind in sadness hollowM) — 
 
 Unto the castle's court yard great, 
 
 Where stood the coal-black charger fleet, 
 
 Pawing the earth on which he stood, 
 
 His neigh commingled with the flood 
 
 That roll'd with fury down the steep 
 
 With headlong, wild, tremendous leap 
 
 Until the rocks its fall did break. 
 
 And when the portal they had reach'd. 
 
 In whose deep arch the night-owl screecli'd. 
 
 And flitted round the cresset light 
 
 That faintly glimmcr'd thro' the night, 
 
 The stranger pausM, and in a tone 
 
 As hollow as the dismal moan 
 
 I
 
 J 
 
 CANTO in. BARON KOLFF. 185 
 
 Of midnight wind — tliesc words he spake — ■ 
 (The Baron's flesh with fear did shake) — 
 " Now that no one our words can hear, 
 Within this dismal archway drear, 
 I will impart to you why I 
 Thus leave you so unseasonably. 
 Engagement have I, sacred, deep, 
 One which I am constraint to keep, 
 And which I cannot, cannot break. 
 " Why (said the Baron) can't you send 
 Some one to fill your place — some friend ?"- 
 " No substitute it will admit — 
 I must away ere night doth flit 
 To Wurtzburg's old cathedral." — 
 " But not until the cheerful bell 
 Proclaims the graceful hour of mom, 
 And Phoebus doth the hills adorn ! 
 To-morrow you your bride shall take. 
 And joy and gladness will awake. 
 Besides"" — " It must, it must be so ! 
 They call ! they call ! I on must go !*" 
 " But will you not your bride first see ? 
 By heav'n, this is a mystery !" — 
 " My bride ! didst say ? — No bride have I- 
 To-night I with the worms must lie ! 
 They now expect me in their cell — 
 I must away, and with them dwell — 
 
 2b
 
 186 BARON KOLFF. canto hi. 
 
 For I am dead ! — Ay, dead ! dead ! dead ! 
 
 The forest grass is dyed with red 
 
 From my heart's blood ! — A fell brigand 
 
 Did slay me with his murd'rous hand ! 
 
 At Wurtzburg now my body lies — 
 
 The dark tomb waits, the moment flies." 
 
 Upon his charger then he sprung, 
 
 One glance upon the Baron flung, 
 
 And then dashM o'er the drawbridge high. 
 
 Like lightning from the thunder sky. 
 
 The clatt'ring of the horse's feet 
 
 Did quickly from the ear retreat, 
 
 Until in distance they were cast. 
 
 And lost amidst the whistling blast 
 
 That swept along the brow of night — 
 
 One wide, dark sheet devoid of light. 
 
 The Baron turn'd into the hall ; 
 
 His heart within his breast did fall ; 
 
 He trembled like a leaf of aspen. 
 
 And for his breath was wildly gasping. 
 
 And when he had related all. 
 
 Two ladies on the floor did fall, 
 
 And lay in fits devoid of motion : 
 
 The house was boiling with commotion. 
 
 And others at the very thought. 
 
 To think the glances they had caught
 
 CANTO III. BARON KOLFF. 187 
 
 Of some fell spectre, sicken'd quite, 
 
 'Twas fearM their souls would take their flight. 
 
 And others were of the opinion. 
 
 It was the huntsman who'd dominion 
 
 O'er that most awful, dreadful band, 
 
 Who, in the noon of night, the land 
 
 With spectre hound and horse all bone 
 
 Dash'd headlong forward, whilst the groan 
 
 Of their loud trampings on the ear 
 
 Did strike the tremblinc: heart with fear. 
 
 Some talk'd of pallid mountain sprite. 
 
 And ghastly phantoms clothed in white. 
 
 And giant demons of the wood. 
 
 Who never wish'd to being' good. 
 
 But there Avas one among the rest 
 
 Who dared to venture to suggest 
 
 It might be that the Cavalier 
 
 Had fram'd the trick to strike with fear 
 
 Their hearts, and cause some frolic, fun — 
 
 What indignation then did run 
 
 Around the board ! — All there confess'd 
 
 He was not fit among the rest 
 
 To sit at table ; and the Baron, 
 
 His eye of rage was not then barren, 
 
 Look'd on him worse then infidel. 
 
 And said he quickly would expel
 
 188 BARON KOLFF. 
 
 Him from the house if e'er he dared 
 Again to utter such a word ; 
 So that he fain was to abjure 
 His heresy, else, to the door 
 He had been handed by the group- 
 He might perceive it by their look. 
 
 CANTO III.
 
 BARON KOLFF. 
 
 CANTO IV. 
 
 Whatever may have been their doubt, 
 
 They speedily were put to rout 
 
 By missives which next day arrived, 
 
 Which tokl the Count was not alive ; 
 
 That in the old cathedral 
 
 His body 'mongst the dead did dwell. 
 
 And oh ! what great dismav now dwelt 
 
 Within the castle — they all felt 
 
 Like beings who'd been singl'd out 
 
 By ghosts to bring some end about. 
 
 The Baron sped unto his room, 
 
 His face o'erspread with heavy gloom ; 
 
 The guests, kind creatures ! could not go 
 
 And leave him there a prey to woe. 
 
 They wandcr'd round the courts in groups, 
 
 With shrugging shoulders — down-cast looks.
 
 190 BARON KOLFF. canto iv^. 
 
 The bride in sorrow paced the hall ; 
 
 The tears adown her cheeks did fall ; 
 
 Her heart swell'd as 'twould stop her breath ; 
 
 She was distracted — " Oh ! that death 
 
 Had ta'en me ere I'd seen that form! 
 
 Oh ! that I'd been a prey to worm ! 
 
 To lose a husband — such a one ! 
 
 Without embrace ! — Thus to have gone, 
 
 And flown away as gleam of light 
 
 Across the cheerless brow of night ! 
 
 If thus his spectre charms the eye, 
 
 What was he when the rosy dye 
 
 Of life and health overspread his face ? 
 
 What noble beauty and what grace 
 
 Must then have charm'd each wond'ring eye ! 
 
 Alas ! alas ! I now must die ! 
 
 For what's this cheerless world to me 
 
 Now I'm depriv'd, sweet love, of thee ?" — 
 
 And on the night of second day 
 
 From which her lover went away. 
 
 She had unto her room retired. 
 
 For nature weary was and tired 
 
 With such deep grieving ; and her aunt 
 
 Kept up one harsh, continual rant. 
 
 And said she would for fear of ill 
 
 Repose with her, and strive to kill
 
 CANTO IV. BARON KOLFF. 191 
 
 The dreary moments. She'd begun 
 
 To tell a legend, and did run 
 
 Her ne'er-tired tongue with such profusion, 
 
 'Twas thought she'd never make conclusion. 
 
 At length exhausted she became. 
 
 And in repose fell fast the dame. 
 
 The chamber was retired and lone ; 
 
 The moonbeams through the casement shone, 
 
 At which the maiden pensive sat : 
 
 The downy moth and gliding bat 
 
 Were darting round the walls of green, 
 
 And sporting 'neath the silver beam. 
 
 All was in slumber — not a sound 
 
 Crept o'er the scene, except the bound 
 
 Of water rushing down the hill. 
 
 And murmurs of the mountain rill. 
 
 Upon the moon in thoughtful mood 
 
 She gaz'd as o'er the sable wood 
 
 It rose, and on the aspen trees 
 
 Alive and dancing in the breeze 
 
 It cast its trembling, pallid ray 
 
 Across the midnight canopy. 
 
 The castle clock had toll'd the hour 
 
 Of silent midnight — fort and tow'r 
 
 Had answer'd back the solemn sound. 
 
 Which quick from height to height did bound,
 
 192 BARON KOLFF. canto iv. 
 
 And died within the valleys low 
 In faintest echoes, sad and slow — 
 When lo ! a soft and lovely strain 
 Of music from the garden came. 
 In notes so tender and entrancing, 
 It set the maiden's heart a dancing. 
 She cast her eyes around the scene, 
 Naught met they save the foliage green. 
 At length beneath a shadow'd tree 
 A tall, dark figure did she see ; 
 It rais'd its head — a beam of lierht 
 Shot from the moon, and to her siffht 
 Disclosed the features — heav'nly powVs ! 
 Of him who'd caus'd her such dire hours ! 
 Of him who had his cheerless bed 
 Among the dwellings of the dead ! 
 The bridegroom met her wond'ring eye ! 
 Just then a shriek of agony 
 Shot through her ear its piercing cry ; 
 She turn'd her round, her aunt did lie 
 Upon the floor — She'd seen the spectre, 
 A fainting fit had then attack'd her. 
 She'd been awaken'd by the strain. 
 And quickly to the window came. 
 Where she espied the awful form 
 Which gave her heart such great alarm.
 
 CANTO IV. BARON KOLFF. 193 
 
 The maid asfain her orlances cast 
 Into the garden, but, alas ! 
 The form had vanish'd — fled away 
 Like morning gleam's short transient play. 
 Unto her heart her hand she press'd ; 
 Her head hung down upon her breast : 
 For there was something in the sprite 
 Of him she lov''d that gave delight ; 
 For still the semblance she could trace 
 Of manly beauty on his face. 
 And though an empty, fleshless shade 
 Can never satisfy a maid, 
 Or ease her ardent, love-sick heart, 
 Yet, when the substance is apart 
 It pleasure gives to hold communion 
 With one removed from earthly union. 
 The aunt declared that she would never 
 Rest there again — •" Oh ! if I ever 
 Put foot again within that room 
 May I be hurl'd to endless gloom !"" — 
 The niece replied that there alone 
 She would repose ; and in a tone 
 That told the aunt 'twas useless, vain. 
 To make objection — She was fain 
 To hold her peace, and say no more, 
 Although she eyed the maiden oVr, 
 
 2 c
 
 194 BARON KOLFF. canto ir. 
 
 And seem'd to think her wits had flown — 
 She rais'd her liands and gave a groan. 
 
 So in the chamber she did sleep. 
 And nightly to the moon did weep. 
 She drew a promise from her aunt 
 That what they'd seen she'd not recount, 
 Lest she should be denied the wish, 
 The only one she had in this 
 Wide cheerless earth — the mournful joy 
 Of being her fond lover nigh, 
 And dwelling in the chamber where 
 His sacred shade did oft repair. 
 'Twas all on earth that now was left her, 
 Since death had of his life bereft her ! — 
 
 How long the good old lady might 
 
 Have kept the secret out of sight 
 
 'S uncertain, for she loved most dear 
 
 To talk of all which did appear 
 
 Before her eyes or reach 'd her ear. 
 
 Besides, there is a triumph great 
 
 To be the first of all to break 
 
 Upon one's friends with aught that's strange 
 
 And mark the looks they then exchange 
 
 } 
 
 a^*
 
 CANTO TV. BAROxV KOLFF. 195 
 
 However 'tis related still, 
 
 Upon that memorable liill. 
 
 That for a week's full days she kept it — 
 
 Indeed, 'twas strange ! — who could expect it ? 
 
 She was however soon relieved — 
 
 Alas ! alas ! what bosoms grieved ! 
 
 One morning at the hour of breakfast 
 
 A horror to their hearts Avas cast, 
 
 By word received the maid had fled — 
 
 The room was empty, and her head 
 
 Had never pressed her downy pillow. 
 
 The Baron trembled like a willow. 
 
 And then what consternation run 
 
 Around the table ; ev'ry one 
 
 Held up their hands in great surprise ; 
 
 The tear-drop dimmed the ladies' eyes ; 
 
 The poor relations wide did stare, 
 
 And for a moment left the fare ; 
 
 The frenzied aunt her hands did wring, 
 
 Her grizzly hair she back did fling. 
 
 And in a harsh, discordant voice. 
 
 With drops upon her brow like ice — 
 
 " The goblin ! Oh ! the goblin's ta'en her ! 
 
 We never, never, shall regain her !" 
 
 And in a few words then related 
 
 How th' spectre in the garden waited
 
 196 BARON KOLFF. canto iv. 
 
 For her ; and said that sure was she 
 
 He'd ta'en her off to purgat'ry ! — 
 
 Two servants said they'd heard the noise 
 
 Of horses' hoofs in distance rise, 
 
 And ring upon the midnight air, 
 
 As they did to their bed repair ; 
 
 And had no doubt that it was he. 
 
 Riding off impetuously. 
 
 A fear crept forth on ev'ry face, 
 
 For deeds of this kind oft take place 
 
 In Germany, as histories say, 
 
 And there's no disbelieving they ! 
 
 But of the poor heart-broken Baron — 
 
 His daughter carried by a demon 
 
 To some dark sphere ! — or else to wed 
 
 A grisly sprite with eyes of red. 
 
 And p'rhaps a group of goblins bring 
 
 Into the world with forked wing — 
 
 Oh ! what reflection for a father ! 
 
 He would, ay, on his soul ! he'd rather 
 
 Have had her swept into the grave ! 
 
 His blood did boil, his brain did rave. 
 
 As usual, quite bewilder'd was he — 
 
 The men were order'd instantly 
 
 To take to horse, and scour each road, 
 
 Each path and glen. A heavy load
 
 CANTO IV. BARON KOLFF. 197 
 
 Lay at the Baron's aching heart — 
 
 The hall was uproar — Off they start 
 
 In eager groups — quick down the steep 
 
 The horses onward eager leap ; 
 
 The Baron had his boots drawn on ; 
 
 They'd all departed — ev'ry one : 
 
 His sword was buckled to his waist ; 
 
 He was about with eager haste 
 
 To mount his horse — when lo ! strange sight ! 
 
 A lady met his wond'ring sight — 
 
 Upon a palfrey did she ride ; 
 
 A Cavalier was at her side ; 
 
 She gallopp'd up unto the gate ; 
 
 She did not for assistance wait, 
 
 But from her horse she quickly leapt, 
 
 And on the earth she fell and wept, 
 
 And clung unto the Baron's knees : 
 
 In truth his heart was ill at ease. 
 
 It was the spectre and his daughter : 
 
 His wrinkl'd brow did drop with water, 
 
 That stream'd in torrents from each pore ; 
 
 He eyed them o'er, and o'er, and o'er. 
 
 His gaze first rested on the sprite, 
 
 Then turn'd away, and did alight 
 
 Upon his child — ^lie was astounded — 
 
 His brain was utterly confounded —
 
 J98 BARON KOLFF. canto iv. 
 
 He thought his senses had departed — 
 
 His eyes near from their sockets started. — 
 
 And diffrent now appear'd the sprite 
 
 To what he was on that strange night 
 
 On which he visited the hall, 
 
 And did their bosoms so appal : 
 
 His dress was splendid, and each grace 
 
 Shone brightly on his noble face ; 
 
 It was no longer pale, for now 
 
 It shone with health's resplendent glow ; 
 
 And joy within his large dark eye 
 
 Was dancing, sporting meiTily. 
 
 Full soon the mystery was clear, 
 
 It was the graceful Cavalier, 
 
 (As all of you ere this must know) 
 
 That now before old Kolff did bow. 
 
 And then he quickly did recount 
 
 Th' adventure with the murder'd Count ; 
 
 And how he hasten'd to the toAv'r, 
 
 And how he tried with all his pow'r, 
 
 But not one word could he get in, 
 
 Though oft and oft he did begin ; 
 
 And how the bride had charm'd his heart. 
 
 And how with her was loath to part ; 
 
 That the deceit he'd let go on 
 
 That he might near be to tlie one,
 
 CANTO If. BARON KOLFF. l{)g 
 
 The only one from wliicli liis heart 
 
 Had e'er received young Cupid"'s dart : 
 
 How he'd been puzzled to retreat 
 
 And leave the tender maiden sweet, 
 
 Until their tales his fancy lit, 
 
 Suggesting his eccentric flit : 
 
 How in the garden he each night 
 
 By stealth gaz'd on her beauties bright : 
 
 How he had woo'd and won her heart, 
 
 And borne her off. Now, ne"'er to part, 
 
 Their hands were join'd in wedlock fast — 
 
 He hoped he would forget the past. 
 
 The Baron pardon'd on the spot ; 
 
 The lovers bless'd their happy lot ; 
 
 The revels then were quick resum'd ; 
 
 The poor relations danc'd and tun'd. 
 
 And overwhehu'd this member new 
 
 With loving kindness ; and they grew 
 
 Each hour more fond — he was so gay, 
 
 So gen''rous, rich ; and did each day 
 
 Anticipate their dearest wishes 
 
 With sparkling wine and sav'ry dishes. 
 
 The aunts themselves look'd rather queer — 
 
 " Who would have thought it ? — dear ! Oh dear !" 
 
 And as they each event related. 
 
 They wish VI they'd had the windows grated. 
 
 END OF BARON KOLFF.
 
 SONNET 
 
 EVENING. 
 
 Delightful Even ! tranquil, mild and calm ! 
 I love to watch thee steal o'er vale and hill ! 
 To feel thy soothing, gentle breeze of balm. 
 And hear the gurgle of thy plaintive rill ! 
 To mark thy shy so delicate and still. 
 The pale gray sheet mix'd with the fading blue ! 
 What sweet emotions to the mind instill ! 
 What feelings kind the tender heart shoot through ! 
 I love to wander lonely, and with you 
 Hold still communion, far from busy men, 
 When nature sleeps in pallid, misty hue, 
 And Cynthia tops the scarce-seen mountains ! then 
 How sweet beneath some hanging aspen bow'r 
 To stray unseen, unheard, and ponder thro' the hour ! 
 
 2 D
 
 WHEN THE DEWS ARE FALLING. 
 
 When the dews are falling, 
 And the rails are callinff. 
 
 Think, sweet maid, on me I 
 When the glow-worm's gleaming ; 
 When the eve-star's beamins". 
 And the light is streaming 
 
 On the distant sea ; 
 When the moths are flying, 
 Timid wild doves crying, 
 And the wind is sighing, 
 
 Think, sweet maid, on me ! 
 
 II. 
 Think upon those hours, 
 'Neath the fragrant bow'rs, 
 
 I have spent with thee. 
 When the sweet lark sinsrinsr. 
 Through high heaven winging. 
 To our hearts was brinarino' 
 
 Joy and harmony.
 
 WHEN THE DEWS ARE FALLING. 203 
 
 When the moon is peeping, 
 O'er the mountain creeping, 
 And the world is sleeping, 
 
 Think, sweet maid, on me ! 
 
 III. 
 Maiden, wilt thou ever 
 Think upon thy lover, 
 
 Far away from thee ? 
 Will a sigh escape thee ? 
 Will a thought ere shake thee ? 
 Wilt thou, Jane, forsake me 
 
 Now I'm o'er the sea ? 
 Bitter tears are streaming — 
 Always of thee dreaming — 
 And my heart is teeming 
 
 With deep sighs for thee ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 On the billow rolling, 
 'Neath the tempest howling. 
 
 Thoughts are all on thee ! 
 When the lightning*'s flashing, 
 And the rocks are crashing, 
 Mighty waters dashing 
 
 Through the gloomy sea ;
 
 204 WHEN THE DEWS ARE FALLING. 
 
 Home my thoughts are turning, 
 My fond heart is yearning, 
 And my brain is burning 
 
 Thy sweet form to see ! 
 
 V. 
 
 Pleasure Avill beset thee. 
 Thou mav'st soon forget me. 
 
 Bygone thoughts may flee ; 
 Youths will flock around thee. 
 Beauty will surround thee, 
 Think of him who found thee 
 
 By the lonely Dee ! 
 Lovely as the flower 
 In the silent bower — 
 Remember, Jane, that hour .' 
 
 Think, sweet maid, on me.
 
 SONNET. 
 
 THE DAISY. 
 
 Pure modest Daisy ! lovely to behold ! 
 That from the common lift'st thy milky head^ 
 More beauteous thou than flow'rs of brightest gold 
 That on the air their balmy fragrance shed ! 
 I love to wander by thy lowly bed, 
 Sweet smiling charmer, when the early ray 
 Breaks o'er the scene, and dismal night hath fled, 
 And rosy col'ring mixes with the gray I 
 To see thy tiny leaves salute the day, 
 And mark each bud display its tender white — 
 The wildsome skylark, when hath closed its lay, 
 Creeps close to thee to spend the summer night, 
 And sips the dew-globe from thy bosom bright, 
 Till morn again bursts forth, and he renews his flight.
 
 EDGAR. 
 
 Upon a lone and dismal plain 
 
 A lovely youth convulsed with pain 
 
 Was writhing 'neath the waving reeds, 
 
 Besprent with gore from men and steeds. 
 
 A sword-gash gaped upon his brow, 
 
 And plaintive murmurs, sad and low, 
 
 Crept from his heart — Around the scene 
 
 His eyes were cast with anxious gleam. 
 
 The raven flutter^ o'er his head 
 
 With croaking cry, and beak all red 
 
 With human blood — The fierce wolf growl'd "| 
 
 As o'er the homd waste it prowl'd, > 
 
 And glutted on the carcass cold. — } 
 
 Faint distant groans rode on the air 
 
 From dying soldiers, whom despair 
 
 Had desperate made ; their curses flew 
 
 With grating jar throughout the blue 
 
 Of heav'n's high vault — And then they'd sink 
 
 Upon the war-plough'd turf, and shrink, 
 
 And gasp with horror as the kite 
 
 Upon their mangFd forms would light
 
 .EDGAR. 307 
 
 With outspread talons, and imbrue 
 Its flinty bill, with which it drew 
 Their precious life-tide's crimson stream, 
 And flap its wings and wildly scream. — 
 The air was still — no sound was heard, 
 Save croaking of the sable bird ; 
 No fond sound reach"'d his weary ear ; 
 No friend's sweet accent came him near 
 To cheer his last appalling hour, 
 And comfort to his bosom pour ! 
 All awful silence ! — Round him lay 
 The forms of those who in the fray 
 Had met their death-wound from the foe ; 
 Ghastly they seem'd — No ray or glow 
 Shot o'er their features — livid, pale ! — 
 They heedless lay — The sickly gale 
 Swept o'er the field with doleful wail ; 
 The sinking sun was o'er the deep, 
 Its feeble light through clouds did peep, 
 And ting'd the billows as they sped -x 
 
 With silver breast and crystal head / 
 
 In joyful clusters o'er the bed / 
 
 Of dark blue ocean dy'd with red. j 
 
 And oh ! what anguish struck his soul ! 
 What horror to his breast did roll ! 
 He saw his blood-stain on the ffrass ! 
 The heavy day was closing fast. 
 
 1
 
 208 EDGAR. 
 
 And night, drear niglit ! was creeping round. 
 
 He tried to rise — Alas ! he found 
 
 All pow'r had gone — he sigh'd, he wept — 
 
 Sweet hope had flown — Despair now crept 
 
 To his lone heart ! — Just then a tone 
 
 Mix"'d wildly with the zephyr''s moan. 
 
 " My Edgar ! whither dost thou bleed ? 
 
 Or is thy noble spirit freed ? 
 
 Alas ! alas ! where dost thou lie ? — 
 
 Oh ! canst thou hear my bursting sigh ? 
 
 Oh ! whither, whither art thou lying ? 
 
 Oh ! God ! oh ! God ! what groups are dying 
 
 In this great charnel house 1 Dread hour ! 
 
 Where art thou fled, thou lovely flow'r ? 
 
 My only love ! — my all ! my life ! 
 
 What anguish in my soul is rife !" — 
 
 She sought around the dreary plain — 
 
 She sigh'd, she call'd — her burning brain 
 
 Throbb'd wildly in its aching cell. 
 
 At length beside a stagnant well. 
 
 To which lieM crept to slake his thirst, 
 
 She found him laid — Her full heart burst ! 
 
 For on the earth a corse he lay ! 
 
 She dropped upon his pallid 
 
 Her spotless spirit fled away 
 
 le lay ! ^ 
 
 id clay — >- 
 va,Y ! )
 
 MIDNIGHT. 
 
 Bright davliirht's fled — 'tis solemn midnight hour I 
 The gentle queen 
 
 With modest lii^ht 
 Just peeps between 
 The cloudlets white, 
 And silvers o'er the lake ; 
 The upland, breeze 
 
 Is gliding by 
 Through fragrant trees 
 With plaintive sigh, 
 And melodies awake. 
 
 The midnight songsters of the dells, 
 
 In harmony sublime, 
 Give forth their notes in lovely swells. 
 And while away the time. 
 In heav'n above 
 The star of love, 
 Sweet Venus, shows her face, 
 With modest rav. 
 Far, far away. 
 The sable sky to grace : 
 2 E
 
 210 MIDNIGHT. 
 
 And creamy clouds sail slowly by 
 
 Enfring"'d with silver liglit, 
 And boding niglit-owls swiftly fly, 
 
 And scream tlirougliout the night. 
 The moths are out, 
 And skim about ; 
 The foxes howl within the wood ; 
 The water rail, 
 With pensive wail, 
 Is gliding o'er the moon-lit flood ; 
 
 And the winding brooks are singing, 
 
 And dancing 'neath the trees ; 
 Responding glens are ringing 
 With sweetest melodies : 
 And soothing gales blow softly by 
 From neighb'ring mountains rising high. 
 And chant their music joyfully 
 As o'er the lofty elms they fly. 
 And through the clust'ring branches sigh. 
 'Tis night's lone noon — calm, gentle hour ! 
 Delighter sweet • thou hast the pow'r 
 To calm the soul when sorrows low'r. 
 And sweetest balm to anguish'd bosoms pour.
 
 THE EXILE. 
 
 i. 
 
 'Mo N GST dreary wastes of drifting snow, 
 
 Where cheering sun-beam's seldom seen, 
 Where scented flowVets never grow, 
 
 Nor meadows with their herbage green, 
 'Midst barren plains of vast extent, 
 
 An Exile spends his lonely hours, 
 By Russia's haughty tyrant sent 
 
 To pine beneath conflicting showers. 
 
 II. 
 
 Alas ! how difTrent to the scenes. 
 
 His native scenes to him so dear ! 
 Where were the woods ? — the fair broad 2:recns ? 
 
 His eye sufFus'd with sorrow's tear — 
 Where were the mountains and the streams ? 
 
 The ftiir clear sky, so bright and blue. 
 Through which the sun's bright glowing gleams 
 
 In amber streamers sweetly flew ?
 
 212 THE EXILE. 
 
 III. 
 Where was the ocean tliat begirt 
 
 His long-lost home ? — " Oh ! lovely sea ! 
 And must I thy sweet shores desert, 
 
 And pine away in misery ? 
 And must I leave my home — my friends — 
 
 To suit a savage tyrant's will ? 
 Beneath the weight my spirit bends ! 
 
 Alas ! alas ! why not me kill ? 
 
 IV. 
 
 And thou, sweet wife, art left alone ! 
 
 And I, oh ! God ! an Exile here ! 
 Oh ! happy, happy, happy home ! 
 
 I ne'er again shall come ye near ! 
 To leave for aye all I held dear. 
 
 And waste my days in this drear land ! 
 Oh ! that kind death Avould now appear, 
 
 And strike me with his withering hand. 
 
 V. 
 
 What recollections crowd my brain 
 Of what I was ! — How memory steals 
 
 Upon my soul ! — Alas ! the reign 
 Of bliss was short: — My bosom feels
 
 THE EXILE. 213 
 
 O'ercoming anguish — What a change ! 
 
 The tempest's billows mock my groan- 
 Around the scene, so wild and strange, 
 
 I cast my sight — The rude wind's moan 
 
 VI. 
 
 Assails mine ear — Throughout the air 
 
 The huge, broad clouds in clusters roll ; 
 Rocks rise on rocks — gloomy and bare ; 
 
 Through the high vault loud thunders howl ; 
 The hissing lightning's pallid dart 
 
 Flits through the haze in flashes fierce — 
 Oh ! welcome flame transfix my heart ! 
 
 My wretched bosom kindly pierce !
 
 SONG. 
 
 Sweet is the note in the blithe month of spring. 
 
 When nature is pregnant with joy, 
 Of the warbling skylark, far, far on the wing 
 
 In speckless and bright beaming sky ! 
 Sweet is the tone of the gurgling rills 
 
 Beneath the embowering shade, 
 When echoes of gladness are borne from the hills 
 In murmurs along the deep glade ! 
 
 Oh ! lovely spring ! oh ! lovely spring ! 
 
 Thou season of delight •' 
 To thee I sing, to thee I sing — 
 Soul-cheering cherub bright i 
 
 Sweet is the hue of the springing flow'r •' 
 And sweet are the throstle-cock's notes. 
 
 As from the bright hawthorn in sweetness they pour, 
 And on the soft breeze gaily floats I
 
 SONG, 215 
 
 Sweet are the meadows in beauty array'd, 
 
 Bedeck'd Avith tlie daisy and bell ! 
 And sweet the blue violet low 'neath the shade ! 
 And primrose deep hid in the dell i 
 
 Oh ! lovely spring ! oh i lovely spring [ 
 
 Thou season of delight 
 To thee I sing, to thee I sing — 
 Soul-cheering cherub bright •' 
 
 Sweet are the blossoms that mantle the sloe 
 
 In glittering garments of white ! 
 And sweet are the flowerets in dingles below 
 In deep shadow screen"'d from the sight ! 
 Sweet is the note from the shepherd so gay 
 
 As o'er the bright verdure it glides ! 
 Whilst round his soft cushion the sportive lambs play, 
 With sun-beams illuming their sides. 
 
 Oh •' lovely spring 1 oh •' lovely spring ! 
 
 Thou season of delight ! 
 To thee I sing, to thee I sing — 
 Soul-cheering cherub bright ?
 
 BENEATH YON SHADOWY 
 CYPRESS TREES. 
 
 1. 
 
 Beneath yon shadowy Cypress Trees 
 
 That wave about in the gliding breeze, 
 
 Where naught is heard but the plaintive tone 
 
 Of the forest dove, and the dolorous moan 
 
 Of the whisp'ring wind as it flits through the dells, 
 
 And waves the tops of the fragrant bells ; 
 
 Upon the bank of a prattling stream, 
 
 And "neath the shade of a willow green, 
 
 A maiden reposes, deep, deep in the earth, 
 
 The loveliest maiden that ever had birth ! 
 
 II. 
 I wander, and wander around her lone bier 
 In sorrow and anguish — The burning tear 
 Starts from my eye-lids^ — I call on her name — 
 The caverns' deep hollows respond back the same.
 
 BENEATH YON SHADOWY CYPRESS TREES. 217 
 
 " Alas ! dearest Mary, no more thou wilt see 
 Thy home and thy friends, or the canopy 
 Of the beauteous sky — nor the groves nor the flow'rs 
 Through which we have wander'd in happier hours ! 
 With heart broke and blighted thy fond lover here 
 Upon thy lone grave drops the pitying tear ! 
 
 III. 
 Thy pure spirit now in the regions above 
 Is dwelling with angels of beauty and love ! 
 Oh ! thou wert too spotless for this dreary vale, 
 Where misery reigns, and the sad bewail 
 Of heart-aches and suffering ascend through the air, 
 Where joy disappears, and the phantom care 
 Holds its with'ring reign ! — Oh ! canst thou hear 
 The deep groans of him who is sorrowing here ! — 
 My Mary ! my Mary ! — Oh ! hear'st thou this sigh P 
 Release me, kind death, for my heart longs to die !" 
 
 '2 V
 
 YON ANCIENT ASH, SO OLD 
 AND PALE. 
 
 1. 
 
 Yon ancient Ash, so old and pale, 
 Above my lover's sacred grave 
 Rears its gray form — The ocean gale 
 Sighs ©""er the rocking, restless wave, 
 And moans within the gloomy cave, 
 As if bewailing for the fate 
 Of that dear youth — The billows lave, 
 And o'er his cheerless pillow break. 
 
 II. 
 
 The lonely sea-bird gliding by. 
 In dol'rous accent sings his knell. 
 And o'er the frowning dark rocks fly, 
 'Neath whose deep shade my love doth dwell. 
 Oh ! heavy grief, too deep to tell. 
 Within my soul hath ta'en its seat ! 
 My blighted heart with sorrow's swell 
 Now heaves as if its chords would break !
 
 YON ANCIENT ASH, SO OLD AND PALE. 219 
 
 in. 
 
 How oft with tliee I've wander'd forth 
 
 At ev'ning hour, when all was still ; 
 
 When siWry was the pallid north, 
 
 And streamers deck'd the western hill 
 
 From setting sun, and by a rill 
 
 Have ta'en our seat, and pass'd the hours 
 
 In tender love — Alas ! how chill 
 
 My once-warm heart ! — Dark sorrow low'rs ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 No more 111 see thy lovely form ! 
 
 Nor catch the glances of thine eye ! 
 
 But lonely must I stray forlorn ! 
 
 And o'er thy grave vent forth the sigh ! 
 
 Upon thy dust I nightly lie, 
 
 Unseen by all save sickly moon, 
 
 Faint peering through the clouds that fly. 
 
 And race athwart the midnight gloom ! 
 
 V. 
 
 I hear the moanings of the wind. 
 And roaring of the angry sea. 
 Alas! alas! dear William, kind I 
 No more mv smile shall welcome thee !
 
 220 YON ANCIENT ASH, SO OLD AND PALE. 
 
 No more thine eyes will gaze on me 
 In sweet affection ! —Thou art dead. 
 Oh ! that I now with tliee could be 
 Within thine icy, lowly bed ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 No heart but mine pours forth the tear — 
 Thou wert an orphan, left forlorn ! 
 No mother seeks thy lonely bier — 
 Alas ! sheM long been from thee torn •' 
 To those who near the spot sojourn, 
 No stone points out thy silent grave. 
 In solitude by thee I mourn. 
 Unheard by all save rolling wave.
 
 SONNET. 
 
 MORNING. 
 
 Sweet smiling day-break ! joyous, bright and pure ! 
 How grateful are thy beams, mild, rosy ray I 
 How like that season which will aye endure 
 In heaven's high dome when life hath pass''d away ! — 
 What beauty round thy biirnish'd streamers play. 
 Thou sacred goddess ! soother kind of woe ! — 
 Thy bracing breeze — thy clouds of modest gray — 
 How far superior to the ev'tting's glow ! — 
 I love to mark thee, musing, wandVing slow 
 Along some babbling brook, or by the sea — 
 Oh ! joys like these foul sluggards never know ! 
 How sweet to climb the heathy hill with thee, 
 And hear the skylark high, in ecstasy, 
 Fillinar the woods and glens with wildsonie melodv !
 
 AND THOU WILT JOIN THE 
 GLITTERING THRONG. 
 
 I. 
 
 And thou Avilt join the glittering throng, 
 
 And thou wilt revel in delight — 
 
 Sweet music"'s charms, the lovely song, 
 
 Will waft thy soul on pleasure's flight — 
 
 And thou wilt mark, Avithout regret. 
 
 The bowers and dells through which we've stray'd — 
 
 The hoary trees where oft we met, 
 
 'Neath whose dark shade the waters play'd — 
 
 When I am dead, Eugene ! — When I am dead ! 
 
 II. 
 
 And thou wilt mark the star decline, 
 The ev'ning star of spotless hue, 
 Upon the distant ocean shine 
 In beauty o'er the wavelet blue ; 
 And think not that upon its beam 
 We two have gazed enraptur'd oft. 
 When o'er the distant spreading stream 
 It sank to rest in ether lost — 
 
 When I am dead, Eugene ! — When I am dead !
 
 AND THOU WILT JOIN, &c. 223 
 
 III. 
 And thou wilt wander by the rill, 
 The limpid rill thou know''st so well, 
 And see the moon above the hill 
 The tranquil hour of evening tell ; 
 And on the bank thou wilt repose, 
 O'er which the willow-boughs recline, 
 And see the bell and modest rose ; 
 Yet in thine eye no tear will shine — 
 
 When I am dead, Eugeme \ — When I am dead ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Alas alas ! how joy departs ! 
 Woe's dreary aspect soon appears •' 
 What trifles sever youthful hearts ! 
 And from the soul draw bitter tears ! 
 The dreams of bliss have flown away ! 
 My hours are gloomy, sad, and lone ! 
 Thou'lt never heed the happy day 
 When we in love's sweet bands did roam — 
 
 When I am dead, Eugene ! — When I am dead ! 
 
 V. 
 
 Oh ' how could such deceit find birth. 
 And dwell within so sweet a form ? — 
 A being of the rarest worth 
 I thought thou wert — The ray of morn
 
 224 AND THOU WILT JOIN, &c. 
 
 Was not more lovely than the smile 
 That play'd upon thy noble face ! 
 Thou didst my virgin heart beguile ! 
 Thou'lt never seek my resting place — 
 
 When I am dead, Eugene ! — When I am dead ! 
 
 VI. 
 Oh ' how I lovM thee ! man of guile ! 
 My very soul did dote on thee • 
 Alas ! alas ! thy faithless smile 
 Hath brought me naught but misery ! 
 I could have laid me down to die 
 Beneath thy feet — I lov'd thee so •' 
 Alas ! for me thou ne'er wilt sigh ! 
 No moisture from thine eye will flow — 
 
 When I am dead, Eugene •' — When I am dead !
 
 -A RMIN A. 
 
 '» 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 'Tis noiseless midnight, and the air 
 Is sweeping o'er the common, bare 
 Of all save steeds and slumb'ring men 
 Reposing till the light again 
 Shall pierce night's garb with cheering ray. 
 And lead them to the sanguine fray. 
 What heaps of warriors here repose ! 
 The moon her silver radiance throAvs 
 Upon their armour, glimmering bright, 
 Like ocean 'neath the glaring light 
 Of rising sun — not night it seems. 
 The dreary common's lit with gleams. 
 At intervals low smother'd sounds 
 From sentinels upon their rounds 
 Break the sad stillness — watch-cries slow \ 
 Upon the midnight breezes flow L 
 
 In cautious whispers, hush'd and low. J 
 
 2 G
 
 226 ARMINA. CANTO I. 
 
 Anon, a snorting steed is heard, 
 
 A.nd then the soldier's checking word 
 
 Harsh breaks the pause. Far o'er the heath, 
 
 Some gloomy forests shade beneath. 
 
 The fierce hyena wildly growls 
 
 As through the darkness on he prowls : 
 
 He scents the prey, and ventures near 
 
 The mighty host, then flies with fear 
 
 At the strange sight. The vultures scream. 
 
 Anticipating morning's gleam, 
 
 When they their wreckless beaks will stain 
 
 With life-blood of the hapless slain. 
 
 Not far from this the Pagan pow"'r 
 
 Impatient watch the dreary hour 
 
 That slowly rolls — they yearn to pour 
 
 The Christians' blood, who sought their shore. 
 
 When morning dawn'd hot raged the war — 
 The valleys and the mountains far 
 Re-echo'd back the thund'ring roar 
 That wildly flew from shore to shore. 
 The tawny Mussulman, Avith eye 
 As deep and sable as the dye 
 Of raven's plumage, ey'd the foe 
 With' indignation. As the roe.
 
 CANTO [. 
 
 ARMINA. 
 
 When startled by the hunter's horn, 
 Flies madly o'er the spacious lawn, 
 On sweeping Boreas' pinions borne, 
 And dashing headlong on its way, 
 So flew they on to this dread fray. 
 With passion great their features gloAv'd, 
 As rushing forward on they rode, 
 Impetu'sly as rolling wave 
 Sweeps thund'ring through the ocean cave, 
 And breaks with fury on the rock 
 With dreadful and astounding shock. 
 
 Among the Christians'" mighty band 
 A Chief there was whose wreakful hand 
 In many a hot and bygone fight 
 Had made the Pagan souls take flight, 
 And turnVl their days to gloomy night.— 
 Fierce was his aspect — o''er his face 
 The dinted scars their lines did trace; 
 Bright was his eye, though time had rolFd 
 Long o'er his head, and lull had told 
 Twice thirty summers — and his form 
 Was as the pine beneath the storm, 
 Stately and portly, strong in might, 
 Scorning the north wind in its flight,
 
 328 ARMINA. CANTO I. 
 
 ■< ' 
 
 Which beats against its hoary trunk * 
 Angry and wrathful. He ne'er shrunk 
 From aught like danger, but was bold 
 As lion in his gloomy hold. 
 EsTOLPHO hated as the snake 
 The swarthy Pagans, and would take 
 Their lives, and spill their crimson blood, "k 
 As heedless as the hunter would > 
 
 The dappled deer within the wood. J 
 
 He led his mailed soldiers forth 
 With sweep impetuous as the north 
 Lets fly its roarings on the sea 
 When tempests bellow furiously. 
 And oh ! what streams of gore gush'd o'er 
 The battle-field, when with a roar 
 Harsh and discordant on they came 
 Destructive as the lurid flame 
 That from the heavy bloated cloud 
 Shoots fiercely through the sable shroud 
 Of dreary night. Above their head 
 Their broad, bright sabres dyed with red, 
 And smoking with the quiv'ring stream, 
 Quick flash'd about — their dazzling gleam 
 Shot swiftly round, and with dismay 
 Struck those afar, who on the fray 
 With sighs and anguish cast their eyes, 
 'Neath whose harsh clang all they did prize
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 ARMINA. 229 
 
 Were fighting with the deadly foe, 
 
 Or p'rhaps upon the common low 
 
 Were pouring forth their precious gore 
 
 With dismal groans, whilst chargers pour, 
 
 Whitened with foam, and o'er them fly, 
 
 Staining their hoofs with crimson dye. 
 
 Well fought the Pagans — on they came 
 
 In countless numbers — ^like a flame 
 
 Flash'd their dark eyes — their horses flew 
 
 Like rushing wind — their sabres blue 
 
 Fell swift as fire upon their foes, 
 
 Who dropped beneath their dext'rous blows. 
 
 At length the Christians backward fell, 
 
 O'ercome by hosts too great to tell ; 
 
 Though well they fought, they could not stand 
 
 Against the mighty eastern band. 
 
 That pour'd upon them thick as hail ! 
 
 Their heavy horses, and their mail, 
 
 Toircther with the dreadful heat, 
 
 Compell'd the warriors to retreat. 
 
 A captive was Estolpho made ; 
 
 His old and valued fav'rite blade 
 
 Was wrested from him, and he lay 
 
 Within a prison, where the day 
 
 Ne'er show'd its splendour, but a gloom 
 
 RoU'd ever through the dismal room.
 
 230 ARMINA. CANTO I. 
 
 Harsh, galling chains enclos'd him round, 
 Their grating chink and ratt'ling sound 
 Fell on his ear, and seem'd to say — 
 Prepare to die, for, ere the gray 
 Of morning decks the eastern sky, 
 A food for kites thou'lt lifeless lie ! — 
 For death he cared not, but to be 
 To such men prisoner ! — Agony ! — 
 The very thought nigh turn'd his brain — 
 " Oh ! that the sword my life had ta'en ! 
 Oh ! that I'd fallen in the fray ! 
 Oh ! that beneath my horse I lay 
 Enclos^l Avith blood upon the field 
 
 Beside my gleaming sword and shield ! — 
 
 Oh ! hated dogs Fll scape ye yet ! 
 
 Ye shall not my old life-stream get ! 
 
 Oh ! I have dealt ye many blows ! 
 
 E'en now my face with pleasure glows 
 
 To think how I in bygone days. 
 
 In scarce-remember'd sanguine frays 
 
 Have made my sabre drink your gore, 
 
 And strew'd your corses on the shore ! — 
 
 Oh • blessed Virgin hear my vow I — 
 
 If I escape the fatal blow 
 
 Of these dark heathens — if I free 
 
 Get from their trammels, unto thee
 
 CANTO I. ARMINA. 331 
 
 My lov'cl Abmina Fll devote ; 
 
 The flow'r on which my soul cloth dote 
 
 Shall take the veil, and in thy praise 
 
 Give unto thee her earthly days." — 
 
 So spake the Chief, then round the room 
 
 He cast his sight — the cheerless gloom 
 
 Was all that met his prying gaze ; 
 
 His eyes were heavy with the haze. 
 
 Upon the floor he sank to rest ; 
 
 The damp air play'd around his breast ; 
 
 The oozing water from the walls 
 
 Around the sleeping warrior falls. 
 
 Ah ! little thought the beauteous maid 
 The dark and cheerless heavy shade 
 That ffath'rinff was around her head ; 
 
 DO 
 
 She knew not Avhat her sire had said ; 
 But happy as the volant bird 
 That from the dingle shade is heard, 
 She skipp'd and sported o'er the flowers 
 That sparkled with resplendent showers 
 Of glitt'ring dew — She danc'd, she sang 
 The over-hanging bow'rs among : 
 And then her song would slowly creep 
 In sweetest cadence o'er the deep
 
 232 ARMINA. CANTO T. 
 
 And polish'd lake that slumb'ring lay, 
 
 s 
 
 Then in the valleys die away ; f 
 
 The charm'd birds stopp'd their warbling lay, 
 
 And listen"'d on the dancing spray. 
 
 And when the morning shot athwart 
 
 The eastern sky, (and wild deer start 
 
 From their repose, and bound along 
 
 In gath'ring numbers, and the song 
 
 From that sweet bird the life of spring, 
 
 Which rises on the ne''er-tired wing. 
 
 And mounts enraptur'd through the air 
 
 From purple heath-bloom waving, where 
 
 His modest partner bathed with dew. 
 
 Beneath the wild bells deck'd with blue. 
 
 Sits motionless upon her nest, 
 
 The unfledg'd brood beneath her breast) 
 
 She'd wander forth the sprite of joy, 
 
 And list the balmy breezes "sigh. 
 
 As from the tow'ring sun-lit hills 
 
 They bounding came. The sparkling rills 
 
 She'd wander by, and cull the flow'rs 
 
 That from the wild, uncultur'd bow''rs 
 
 Peep'd smiling forth — the wanton air 
 
 Play*'d sweetly round her forehead fair, 
 
 And wav"'d her ringlets as they fell 
 
 Around her neck, than which the bell
 
 CANTO I. ARMINA. 233 
 
 Of lily or the mountain snow 
 Was not more spotless — And the glow 
 Of roses in the vales below 
 Was not more brilliant than the dye 
 That deck'd her cheek so beautif ""lly ! — 
 And when the ev'ning vesper bells 
 Upon the air in sweetest swells, 
 Responded in the valleys bright, 
 Illumin'd with the amber lioht 
 From sinking sun-beam, rich and deep. 
 Which through the purple cloudlets peep, 
 And gilding lakes so pure and blue 
 With its resplendent golden hue, 
 And darting hanging vine bow'i 
 She'd stray along the glist'ning shore. 
 And watch the pale green billows pour 
 O'er tangled rocks begirt Avith shells, 
 Which sparkled through their gloomy cells ; 
 And see the sea-bird skim the wave 
 As from the sombre ocean cave 
 Frighten'd it flits on rapid wings, ^ 
 
 Throughout the air its wild note rino-s, V- 
 The cavern deep in echo sings. ) 
 
 She had a lover, and he oft 
 Would meet her there— her bosom soft 
 Sigh'd but for him— her fond heart beat 
 With doting love's emotion sweet. 
 
 2h 
 
 blue ^ 
 
 lie, l 
 
 'rs thro' — )
 
 234 ARMINA. CANTO I. 
 
 A finer youth ne'er courted maid 
 
 Than was Ondaro ; and the blade 
 
 That grae'd his thigh had oft been dyed 
 
 And spotted with the crimson tide 
 
 Of foemen's blood — right brave was he — > 
 
 He'd been in conflicts o"'er the sea, 
 
 And breatlfd the smoke and dust of war, 
 
 And heard the flashing sabres jar 
 
 Upon the breezes, and had seen 
 
 Men's corses scatter'd o'er the green 
 
 In countless numbers, and had heard 
 
 The screamings of the sable bird, 
 
 As from some poor expiring wretch 
 
 It wrench'd the flesh, and quick outstretch 
 
 Its inky pinions and retreat, 
 
 Then swift return with gory beak. 
 
 And when the sweet light died away, 
 
 And stars appeared within the gray 
 
 Of evening twilight, and the gleam 
 
 From rising moon above the stream 
 
 Faintly shot down — they^l take their way 
 
 To lonely shore, and watch the play 
 
 Of wavelets 'neath the pallid ray 
 
 Dying in distance far away ; 
 
 And hear the ocean breezes sighing, 
 
 And see the creamy cloudlets flying
 
 'd. ) 
 
 CANTO I. ARMINA. 235 
 
 Across the moon, on zephyrs singing, 
 
 Like cherubs through the ether winging. 
 
 Beneath a rock, moss-grown and hoary, 
 
 They'd sit — he'd tell some pleasant story, 
 
 Whilst her sweet eyes with pleasure beam'd ; 
 
 Upon his portly form she lean'd ; 
 
 With joy the sparkling tear-drops stream 
 
 Anon he'd tell some legend old 
 
 Of tender maid and soldier bold, 
 
 And how misfortune round them pour'd, 
 
 How bitter woe upon them shower'd, 
 
 How he upon the field of strife 
 
 Pour'd forth the sanguine stream of life. 
 
 And how she pined and died away. 
 
 Like rising sheets of vapour gray 
 
 Before the brilliant god of day. 
 
 And then the tear would leave her eye, 
 
 Her lovely breast give forth a sigh, 
 
 Her pure and tender heart revealing, 
 
 } 
 
 Cerflowing with benignest feeling.
 
 A R M I N A . 
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 Meanwhile her sire within the cell 
 Remain'd a captive, nor could tell 
 The reason why his life was spared. 
 Where were the warriors who had shared 
 With him the horrors of the war ? 
 Alas ! alas ! they now were far 
 In their own country o'er the sea, 
 Whilst he was pining helplessly ! — 
 His aged heart began to quake ; 
 His wither'd limbs began to shake ; 
 Though ne'er before he'd sufFer'd fear ; 
 Though he had stood when death was near 
 Firm and undaunted — yet was he 
 So overcome with misery 
 In this detested seat of woe, 
 That from his eyes the tears would flow, 
 And plaintive meanings sad and low
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 ARMINA. 237 
 
 Crept from his full o'erburthen'd heart : 
 At slightest noise he swift would stai-t 
 From off his straw, and gaze about ; 
 He thought he heard the piercing shout 
 Of callous Pagans — hated crew ! 
 Approaching with their sabres blue. 
 And horrid fancies throng'd throughout 
 His burning brain — Quick roll'd about 
 His aching eyes, to which the day 
 Had long been stranger — then he'd pray, 
 And call on Heav'n to lend him aid. 
 Then stretch his hand as for his blade. 
 Then quick a deep and heavy shade 
 O'erspread his lank and wither'd face — 
 It was not in its wonted place. 
 "And art thou gone, my life ! — my friend ! 
 ^Neath whose fell stroke my foes did bend— 
 And have they ta'en thee from my sight, 
 Thou gleaming gem, so keen and bright 
 O ! thou hast served me long and true, 
 Well-temper'd steel, so pure and blue ! 
 No more thou'lt grace my mailed side ! 
 No more thoult from thy scabbard glide 
 In my behalf! — No more thy point 
 Will dislocate the heathen joint l" 
 
 ^9 
 
 ?
 
 238 ARMINA. 
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 At length success' upon the Cross 
 
 Shone brightly round — They felt the loss 
 
 Of brave Estolpho, and did vow 
 
 They'd free him from his cell of woe. 
 
 On press'd the Christians — round the scene 
 
 Their horses flew — a dazzling ffleam 
 
 Shot from their swords, down which did stream 
 
 The foemen's gore upon the green. 
 
 The Mussulmen fell staggering back, 
 
 Fierce roll'd their flashing eyes of black ; 
 
 Man fell on man, and horse on horse ; 
 
 Deep groans escaped — the heavy curse 
 
 Flow\l from their throat, in which the s-ore 
 
 O 
 
 Gurgled and rattled. — Round the shore 
 Were thousands laid to rise no more. 
 The day was won ! — The Christians flew 
 To free their valiant leader true 
 From his drear prison. Oh ! what joy ! 
 What pleasure great and ecstasy 
 Play'd round his old and sickened heart 
 As from the door the bolts did start, 
 And in his cell the warriors stept ! 
 With joy he hung his head and wept. — 
 " Oh ! comrades kind ! and are ye here ? 
 Deliv'rers brave, excuse this tear, 
 For bitter woe too great to tell 
 Since last we met hath me befell. 
 
 }
 
 CANTO II. ARMINA. 239 
 
 And have ye found me out at last, 
 
 Companions dear, who when the blast 
 
 Of war swept o'er were by my side, 
 
 When we on swarthy dogs did ride ? 
 
 Accept my thanks — I yet shall see 
 
 And join the cry of victory. 
 
 Again my sword shall on them flash. 
 
 Again my charger on shall dash 
 
 With utmost speed upon their ranks, 
 
 With frothing mouth and smoking flanks. 
 
 And thou, great Pow'r above the sky, 
 
 Departed saints of purity ! 
 
 Oh ! mighty host of spotless heaven. 
 
 In gratitude to ye are given 
 
 My heartfelt prayers •' — thy tending wing 
 
 In mercy thou did'st o*'er me fling. 
 
 And, holy Virgin, unto thee 
 
 My vow 111 keep — thou'st set me free, 
 
 Thou'st heard my prayer, and saved my life 
 
 From falling 'neath the eastern knife. 
 
 The veil my only child shall take, 
 
 And live and die but for thy sake. 
 
 And spend her days in prayers to thee, 
 
 Thou sainted gem of purity !" —
 
 240 ARMINA. 
 
 And after many hot campaigns 
 
 Upon the calid, burning plains, 
 
 When his old arms began to fail, 
 
 And weakness did his frame assail. 
 
 He sought again his native land : 
 
 He left the goodly Christian band. 
 
 And when he near'd his castle gate 
 
 His daughter 'neath the porch did wait ; 
 
 The tear of joy was in her eye ; 
 
 She to his long-lost arms did fly. 
 
 He gazed enraptur'd on her face ; 
 
 Adorn'd she was with ev'ry grace ; 
 
 Lovely and blooming as the rose 
 
 That ""neath the morning sun-beam blows. 
 
 And oh ! what horror struck his soul ; 
 
 What anguish to his heart did roll ; 
 
 In icy streams his life-blood ran ; 
 
 His features livid were and wan, 
 
 When he bethought him of the vow 
 
 He'd made within the prison low. 
 
 Oh ! how she joy'd that he'd return'd ; 
 
 How anxiously for him had yearn'd 
 
 Her tender breast ; — but when she heard 
 
 His vow repeated word for word. 
 
 Oh ! what deep sorrow fill'd her heart ! 
 
 What burning tears did gushing start 
 
 CANTO It.
 
 CANTO TI. ARMINA. 241 
 
 To her blue eyes ! — Her doom was seal'd ! 
 
 Upon the marble floor she reel'd. 
 
 " My love ! — my love ! — Ondaro, dear ! 
 
 Alas ! alas ! a prospect drear 
 
 Now opes before me ! — What a change ! 
 
 What images now wildly range 
 
 Dismal and drear throughout my brain ! 
 
 Oh ! that fell death had kindly ta'en 
 
 My wretched life, ere I had heard 
 
 That heart-appalling, dreadful word C 
 
 She threw herself low at his feet ; 
 
 Her streaming eyes her siie's did meet ; 
 
 She pray'd that he would not her tear 
 
 From these dear scenes so bright and fair, 
 
 Where first her eyes beheld the day, 
 
 And childhood pass'd so happily. 
 
 " Oh ! let me ever with you stay, 
 
 And tend you through the dreary way 
 
 Of helpless age — Do not • — do not 
 
 Devote me to the hated lot 
 
 Of cloister'd nun •' — Oh ! save thy child i 
 
 Oh, God ! oh, God ! my brain is wild 
 
 At thought of this ! — Oh ! hear my prayer — 
 
 Do not me from my father tear !" — 
 
 EsTOLPHo's heart with anguish bled ; 
 
 He wish'd himself amongst the dead : 
 
 9 T
 
 242 ARMINA. 
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 Oh ! how his aged breast did bleed ; 
 
 He trembled like a blighted reed. 
 
 But then his vow — it steel'd his heart. 
 
 " It must go on ! — Nay, do not start ! 
 
 My malediction fall on thee, 
 
 If thou to this do not agree !" 
 
 Oh ! then despair crept to her heart ; 
 
 This dreadful menace nigh did part 
 
 Her spotless spirit from its clay — 
 
 Her senses fled — then swift away 
 
 She burst unconscious from the room, 
 
 And disappear'd within the gloom 
 
 That hung without from night's deep shroud 
 
 The sweeping tempest bellowed loud ; 
 
 The heavy peal roll'd through the sky ; 
 
 The hissing flash came dancing by : 
 
 No moon appear'd — no twinkling star 
 
 Shot sweetly down in distance far — 
 
 The waves lash'd round the gloomy rock 
 
 On which the castle stood — the shock 
 
 Re-echo'd loud in caverns deep, 
 
 Through which the thund'ring waters leap. 
 
 Onward she rush'd, heedless of all ; 
 
 Upon her lover's name did call, 
 
 Then in the deep abyss di d fall 
 
 fall; 1 
 all ! ) 
 
 END OP ABMINA.
 
 FAREWELL. 
 
 I. 
 
 And must I leave ye, bright and lovely scenes, 
 Througli which I've wander'd in my childhood's day ! 
 Thick spangled woodlands — blooming daisied greens, 
 O'er whose rich bosom I so oft did play ! 
 And must I from ye take my lonely way. 
 To some far land, where none but strangers dwell ! 
 No more I'll see your rising mountains gray ! — 
 What bitter anguish in my heart doth swell ! 
 The tear-drop dims mine eye — Fair native scenes farewell !
 
 344 FAREWELL. 
 
 II. 
 
 No more I'll wander by your gliding brook, 
 And list its music in the valleys playing; 
 No more upon your placid sky I'll look, 
 As through the bow'rs in admiration straying ! 
 No more enraptur'd on your verdure laying 
 I'll catch the fragrance of your mountain breeze, 
 At that dear hour when nature lay displaying 
 Its sweetest charms ! — the thought my heart doth freeze i 
 Bright scenes farewell ! farewell ! I now must track the seas! 
 
 III. 
 
 Sweet lark, farewell ! to which I've often listened ! 
 I ne*'er again shall mark thy morning strain. 
 When sparkling dew upon the grass-blade glisten'd, 
 And hung in clusters round the rustling grain •' 
 Though I must stray and ne'er thee hear again, 
 Yet thou wilt warble, sing as sweet as ever — 
 Alas ! alas ! how short is joy's bright reign i 
 Like transient gleamings shot athwart a river ! 
 A speck of light ! a ray ! — a momentary quiver ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Ye hoary oaks — ye graceful beeches shining — 
 Tall portly elms with foliage thick and bright, 
 And speckled ivy round their branches twining, 
 Again, alas ! you'll never cheer my sight '•
 
 FAREWELL. 2 16 
 
 Meek, tender roses, delicate and white, 
 That with the hawthorn deck the valleys low, 
 And finches restless that upon them light — 
 Adieu ! adieu ! my heart is full with woe ' 
 I'm bending 'neath the weight of dark misfortune's blow i 
 
 V. 
 
 Ye waterfalls — ye lakes in beauty sleeping ; 
 Ye piping fowls that 'neath the rushes sleep ; 
 Ye willows light that hang in sorrow weeping ; 
 Ye water-flow'rs that from the ripple peep — 
 No more from ye I happiness \yill reap ! 
 Alas ! for ever I must with ye part ! 
 In sorrow I some gloomy shore must seek ! 
 The tear of anguish to mine eye doth start ! 
 With bitter, bitter throe is torn my hapless heart ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 And you, sweet Mersey I rolling in your grandeur, 
 Beneath the sombre, dusky Cambrian hills. 
 No more upon thy shell-strew'd shore I'll wander. 
 And mark thy gliding tributary rills ! 
 Oh ! what deep suffering to my mind instills, 
 At thought that I no more will on ye gaze • 
 What pain acute my heaving bosom fills ! 
 Despair hath quench'd hope's cheering sunny rays ! 
 From all that's dear I stray to end my cheerless days '
 
 246 FAREWELL. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Farewell! farewell-' my native scenes for ever •' 
 For aye I leave ye never to return ! 
 And ye, dear friends ! though now, alas ! we sever, 
 In fond remembrance will my bosom burn ! 
 My thoughts will ever to your kindness turn, 
 When I am far beyond the ocean's swell — 
 Though I to strange and distant lands sojourn, 
 Within my heart will kind affection dwell — 
 Dear friends, adieu •' adieu •' farewell ! farewell ! farewell ! 
 
 I'lNIS.
 
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