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be a very repulsive personage; and, as to his iden

II. tity, those who like it must give him whatever Such were the notes that from the pirate's isle "alias" they please.

Around the kindling watch-fire rang the while; If, however, it were worth while to remove the Such were the sounds that thrill'd the rocks along, impression, it might be of some service to me, that And unto ears as rugged seem'd a song! the man who is alike the delight of his readers and in scatter'd groups upon the golden sand, his friends, the poet of all circles, and the idol of They game-carouse-converse-or whet the brand; his own, permits me here and elsewhere to subscribe Select the arms-to each his blade assign, myself,

And careless eye the blood that dims its shine;
Most truly,

Repair the boat, replace the helm or oar,
And aff-ctionately,

While others straggling muse along the shore:
His obedient servant, For the wild bird the busy springes set,

BYRON. Or spread beneath the sun the dripping net;
January 2, 1814.

Gaze where some distant sail a speck supplies,
With all the thirsting eye of enterprize;
Tell o'er the tales of many a night of toil,
And marvel where they next shall seize a spoil:

No matter where-their chief's allotment this;

Theirs, to believe no prey nor plan amiss.
But who that CHIEF? His name on every shore

Is famed and fear'd-they ask and know no more. " - nessun maggior dolore,

With these he mingles not but to command;
Che ricordarni del tempo felice
Nella miezria,

Few are his words, but keen his eye and hand.

Ne'er seasons he with mirth their jovial mess,
But they forgive his silence for success.

Ne'er for his lip the purpling cup they fill,

That goblet passes him untasted still
"O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea, And for his fare--the rudest of his crew
Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free, Would that, in turn, have pass'd untasted too;
Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam, Earth's coarsest bread, the garden's homeliest roots
Survey our empire, and behold our home!

And scarce the summer luxury of fruits, These are our realms, no limits to their sway- His short repast in humbleness supply Our flag the sceptre all who meet obey.

With all a hermit's board would scarce deny. Ours the wild life in tumult still to range

But while he shuns the grosser joys of sense, From toil to rest, and joy in every change. His mind seems nourish'd by that abstinence. Oh, who can tell ! not thou, luxurious slave!

“ Steer to that shore!”-they sail. “Do this!". Whose soul would sicken o'er the heaving ware:

'tis done: Not thou, vain lord of wantonness and ease! "Now form and follow me!"-the spoil is won. Whoin slumber soothes not, pleasure cannot please–Thus prompt his accents and his actions still, Oh, who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried, And all obey and few inquire his will ; And danced in triumph o'er the waters wide, To such, brief answer and contemptuous eye The exulting sense-the pulse's maddening play, Convey reproof, nor further deign reply. That thrills the wanderer of that trackless way?

III. That for itself can woo the approaching fight,

“ A sail !-a sail!"--a promised prize to hope; And turn what some deem danger to delight;

Her nation-flag-how speaks the telescope ? That seeks what cravens shun with more than zeal, And where the feebler faint-can only feel

No prize, alas !—but yet a welcome sail : Feel-to the rising bosom's inmost core,

The blood-red signal glitters in the gale.

Yes-she is ours-a home-returning bark• Its hope awaken and its spirits soar?

Blow fair, thou breeze !-she anchors ere the dark. No dread of death-if with us die our foesSave that it seems even duller than repose :

Already doubled is the cape_our bay

Receives that prow which proudly spurns the spray Come when it will-We snatch the life of lifeWhen lost-what recks it-by disease or strife?

How gloriously her gallant course she goes ! Let him who crawls enamor'd of decay

Her white wings flying-never from her foes

She walks the waters like a thing of life, Cling to his couch, and sicken years away;

And seems to dare the elements to strife. Heave his thick breath, and shake his palsied head;

Who would not brave the battle-fire-the wreckOurs--the fresh turf, and not the feverish bed.

To move the monarch of her peopled deck ?
While gasp by gasp he falters forth his soul,
Onrs with one pang-one bound-escapes control.

His corse may boast its urn and narrow cave, Hoarse o'er her side the rustling cable rings;
And they who loathed his life may gild his grave: The sails are furl'd; and anchoring round she swings
Ours are the tears, though few, sincerely shed, And gathering loiterers on the land discern
When ocean shrouds and sepulckres our dead. Her boat descending from the latticed stern.
For us, even banquets fond regret supply

'Tis mann'd-the oars keep concert to the strand, In the red cup that crowns our memory ;

Till grates her keel upon the shallow sand. And the brief epitaph in danger's day,

Hail to the welcome shout!--the friendly speech! When those who win at length divide the prey, When hand grasps hand uniting on the beach; And cry, remembrance saddening o’er each brow, The smile, the question, and the quick reply, How bad the brave who fell exulted now !And the heart's promise of festivity!

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This let the Arme rer with speed dispose ;
The tidirgs spread, and gathering grows the crowd ; Last time, it more fatigued my arm than foes :
The hum of voices, and the laughter loud,

Mark that the signal-gun be duly fired,
And woman's gentler anxious tone is heard To tell us when the hour of stay's expired."
Friends'-husbands'-lovers' names in each dear

word :
"Oh! are they safe? we ask not of success-

They make obeisance, and retire in haste,

Too soon to seek again the watery waste :
But shall we see them? will their accents bless ?
From where the battle roars-the bilows chafe-

Yet they repine not-so that Conrad guides,
They doubtless boldly did—but who are safe?

And who dare question aught that he decides?
Here let them haste to gladden and surprise,

That man of loneliness and mystery,
And kiss the doubt from these delighted eyes.”

Scarce seen to smile, and seldom heard to sigh;

Whose name appals the fiercest of his crew,

And tints each swarthy cheek with sallower hue; “Where is our chief? for him we bear report

Still sways their souls with that commanding art And doubt that joy—which hails our coming-short; That dazzles, leads, yet chills the vulgar heart. Yet thus sincere 'tis cheering, though so brief;

What is that spell, that thus his lawless train
But, Juan ! instant guide us to our chief:

Confess and envy, yet oppose in vain?
Our greeting paid, we'll feast on our return,

What should it be, that thus their fate can bind ?
And all shall hear what each may wish to learn."

The power of Thought-the magic of the Mind ! Ascending slowly by the rock-hewn way,

Link'd with success, assumed and kept with skill,
To where his watch-tower beetles o'er the bay,

That moulds another's weakness to its will;
By bushy brake, and wild flowers blossoming,

Wields with their hands, but, still to these unknown,
And freshness breathing from each silver spring,

Makes even their mightiest deeds appear his own.
Whose scatter'd streams from granite basins burst, Such hath it been-shall be-beneath the sun,
Leap into life, and sparkling woo your thirst;

The many still must labor for the one!
Froin crag to cliff iney mount-Near yonder cave,

'Tis Nature's doom-but let the wretch who toils, What lonely straggler looks along the wave?

Accuse not, hate not him who wears the spoils. In pensive posture leaning on the brand,

Oh! if he knew the weight of splendid chains, Not oft a resting-staff to that red hand ?

How light the balance of his humbler pains !
" 'Tis he'tis Conrad-here-as wont-alone;

On-Juan!-on-and make our purpose known. Unlike the heroes of each ancient race,
The bark he views-and tell him we would greet

Demons in act, but Gods at least in face,
His ear with tidings he must quickly meet: In Conrad's forin seems little to admire,
We dare not yet approach--thou know'st his mood, Though his dark eyebrow shades a glance of fire :
When strange or uninvited steps intrude." Robust but not Herculean-to the sight

No giant frame sets forth his common height;

Yet, in the whole, who paused to look again,
Him Juan sought, and told of their intent-

Saw more than marks the crowd of vulgar men ;
He spake not-but a sign express'd assent.
These Juan calls--they come to their salute

They gaze and marvel how-and still confess

That thus it is, but why they cannot guess.
He bends him slightly, but his lips are mute.

Sunburnt his cheek, his forehead high and pale
“ These letters, Chief, are from the Greek—the spy The sable curls in wild profusion veil ;'
Who still proclaims our spoil or peril nigh:

And oft perforce his rising lip reveals
Whate'er his tidings we can well report,

The haughtier thought it curbs, but scarce conceals.
Much that ”—“Peace, peace !”-he cuts their Though smooth his voice, and calm his general mien.

prating short.
Wondering they turn, abashed, while each to each

Still seems there something he would not have scen;

His features' deepening lines and varying hue
Conjecture whispers in his muttering speech:

At times attracted, yet perplex'd the view,
They watch his glance with many a stealing look,

As if within that murkiness of mind
To gather how that eye the tidings took ;

Work'd feelings fearful, and yet undefined;
But, this as if he guess'd, with head aside,

Such might it be—that none could truly tell
Perchance from some emotion, doubt, or pride,

Too close inquiry his stern glance would quell. He read the scroll-"My tablets, Juan, hark

There breathe but few whose aspect might defy Where is Gonsalvo ?

The full encounter of his searching eye: “In the anchor’d bark.” He had the skill, when Cunning's gaze would seek

To probe his heart and watch his changing cheek, "There let him stay--to him this order bear

At once the observer's purpose to espy,
Back to your duty--for my course prepare : And on himself roll back his scrutiny,
Myself this enterprise to-night will share."

Lest he to Conrad rather should betray

Some secret thought, than drag that chief's to day “ To night, Lord Conrad ?"

There was a laughing Devil in his sneer,
“Ay! at set of sun :

That raised emotions both of rage and fear;
The breeze will freshen when the day is done.

And where his frown of hatred darkly fell,
My corslet-cloak—one hour-and we are gone.

Hope withering led—and Mercy sigh'd farewell!
Sling on thy bugle-see that free from rust
My carbine-lock springs worthy of my trust;
Be the edge sharpen'd of my boarding brand, Slight are the outward signs of evil thought,
And give its guard more room to fit my hand. Within-within-'twas there the spirit wrought!


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Love shows all changes-Hate, Ambition, Guile, Though many a beauty droop'd in prison'd bower, Betray no further than the bitter smile;

None ever soothed his most unguarded hour.
The lip's least curl, the lightest paleness thrown Yes—it was Love-if thoughts of tenderness,
Along the govern'd aspect, speak alone

Tried in temptation, strengthened by distress,
Of deeper passions; and to judge their mien, Unmoved by absence, firm in every clime,
He, who would see, must be himself unseen. And yet-Oh more than all !-untired by time;
Then with the hurried tread, the upward eye, Which nor defeated hope, nor baffled wile,
The clenched hand, the pause of agony,

Could render sullen were she near to nile,
That listens, starting, lest the step too near Nor rage could fire, nor sickness fret to vent
Approach intrusive on that mood of fear :

On her one murmur of his discontent;
Then-with each feature working from the heart, Which still would meet with joy, with calmness part
With feelings loosed to strengthen not depart: Lest that his look of grief should reach her heart;
That rise-convulse-contend-that freeze, or glow, Which nought removed, nor menaced to remove
Flush in the cheek, or damp upon the brow; If there be love in mortals—this was love!
Then-Stranger ! if thou canst, and tremblest not, He was a villain-ay-reproaches shower
Behold his soul-the rest that soothes his lot! On him—but not the passion, nor its power.
Mark-how that lone and blighted bosom sears Which only proved, all other virtues gone,
The scathing thought of execrated years! Not guilt itself could quench this loveliest one!
Behold—but who hath seen, or e'er shall see,
Man as himself-the secret spirit free?


He paused a moment-till his hastening men

Pass'd the first winding downward to the glen. Yet was not Conrad thus by Nature sent

“Strange tidings !--many a peril have I past, To lead the guilty-guilt's worst instrument

Nor know I why this next appears the last! His soul was changed, before his deeds had driven Yet so my heart forebodes, but must not fear, Him forth to war with man and forfeit heaven.

Nor shall my followers find me falter here. Warp'd by the world in Disappointment's school,

"Tis rash to meet, but surer death to wait In words too wise, in conduct there a fool;

Till here they hunt us to undoubted fate; Too firm to yield, and far too proud to stoop,

And, if my plan but hold, and Fortune smile, Doom'd by his very virtues for a dupe,

We'll furnish mourners for our funeral-pile. He cursed those virtues as the cause of ill,

Ay—let them slumber-peaceful be their dreams! And not the traitors who betray'd him still ;

Morn ne'er awoke them with such brilliant beams Nor deem'd that gifts bestow'd on better men

As kindle high to-night (but blow, thou breeze !) Had left him joy, and means to live again. Feard-shunn'd-belied—ere youth had lost her Now to Medora-Oh! my sinking heart,

To warm these slow avengers of the seas. force, He hated man too much to feel remorse,

Long may her own be lighter than thou art!

Yet was I brave-mean boast where all are brave ! And thought the voice of wrath a sacred cam,

Ev'n insects sting for aught they seek to save. To pay the injuries of some on all.

This common courage which with brutes we share He knew himself a villain--but he deem'd

That owes its deadliest efforts to despair, The rest no better than the thing he seem'd;

Small merit claims—but 'twas my nobler hope And scorn'd the best as hypocrites who hid

To teach my few with numbers still to cope;
Those deeds the bolder spirit plainly did.

Long have I led them-uot to vainly bleed:
He knew himself detested, but he knew
The hearts that loathed him, crouch'd and drcaded So let it be-it irks not me to die;

No medium now-we perish or succeed !

But thus to urge them whence they cannot fly. Lone, wild, and strange, he stood alike exempt

My lot hath long had little of my care, From all affection and from all contempt:

But chafes my pride thus based in the snare: His name could sadden, and his acts surprise ;

Is this my skill? my craft? to set at last But they that fear'd him dared not to despise :

Hope, power, and life upon a single cast? Man spurns the worm, but pauses ere he wake

Oh, Fate !-accuse thy folly, not thy fatc-
The slumbering venom of the folded snake:

She may redeem thee still-nor yet too late."
The first may turn-but not avenge the blow;
The last expires--but leaves no living foe;
Fast to the doom'd offender's form it clings,

And he may crush-not conquer-still it stings !

Thus with himself communion held he, till

He reach'd the summit of his tower-crown'd hill: XII.

There at the portal paused-for wild and soft None are all evil-quickening round his heart, He heard those accents ncrer heard too oft; One softer feeling would not yet depart;

Through the high lattice far yet sweet they rung, Oft could he sneer at others as beguiled

And these the notes his bird of beauty sung:
By passions worthy of a fool or child;
Yet 'gainst that passion vainly still he strove,
And even in him it asks the name of Love!

Yes, it was love--unchangeable unchanged, “ Deep in my soul that tender secret dwells,
Felt but for one from whom he never ranged; Lonely and lost to light for evermore,
Though fairest captives daily met his eye, Save when to thine my heart responsive swells,
He shunn'd nor sought, but coldly pass'd them by;! Then trembles into silence as before.


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