Again he look'd, the wildness of her eye

She knelt beside him, and his hand she prest :
Starts from the day abrupt and fearfully. ** Thou may'st forgive though Alla's self detest
She stopp'd-threw back her dark far-floating hair, But for that deed of darkness, what wert thou ?
That nearly veil'd her face and bosom fair : Reproach me—but not yet-Oh! spare me now!
As if she late had bent her leaning head

I am not what I seem-this fearful night
Above some object of her doubt or dread. My brain bewilder'd-do not madden quite !
They meet-upon her brow-unknown-forgot- If I had never loved-though less my guilt,
Her hurrying hand had left-twas but a spot- Thou hadst not lived to-hate me—if thou wilt“
Its bue was all he saw, and scarce withstood-
Oh! slight but certain pledge of crime'tis blood!

XV.

She wrongs his thoughts, they more himself upbraid
X.

Than her, though undesign'd, the wretch he made;
He had seen battle-he had brooded lone
O'er promised pangs to sentenced guilt foreshown ; They bleed within that silent cell—his breast

But speechless all, deep, dark, and unexprest,
He had been tempted-chastened--and the chain

Still onward, fair the breeze, nor rough the surge Yet on his arms might ever there remain :

The blue waves sport around the stern they urge ;
But ne'er from strife-captivity-remorse-

Far on the horizon's verge appears a speck,
From all his feelings in their inmost force-
So thrill'do shudder'd every creeping vein,

A spotma mast-a sail-an armed deck !

Their little bark her men of watch descry,
As now they froze before that purple stain.
That spot of blood, that light but guilty streak,

And ampler canvas woos the wind from high;

She bears her down majestically near,
Had banish'd all the beauty from her cheek!
Blood he had view'd-could view unmoved-but then Speed on her prow, and terror in her tier.

A flash is seen-the ball beyond their bow
It iow'd in combat, or was shed by men.

Booms harmless, hissing to the deep below.
XI.

Up rose keen Conrad from his silent trance,
“ 'Tis done he nearly waked—but it is done.

A long, long absent gladness in his glance;
Corsair ! he perish'd--thou art dearly won.

“'Tis minemy blood-red flag! again-againAll words would now be vain-away-away!

I am not all deserted on the main !”
Our bark is tossing'tis already day.

They own the signal, answer to the hail,
The few gain'd over, now are wholly mine,

Hoist out the boat at once, and slacken sail.
And these thy yet surviving band shall join :

“ 'Tis Conrad ! Conrad !” shouting from the deck, Anon my voice shall vindicate my hand,

Command nor daty could their transport check! When once our sail forsakes this hated strand.”

With light alacrity and gaze of pride,

They view him mount once more his vessel's side,
XII.

A smile relaxing in each rugged face,
She clapp'd her hands—and through the gallery pour, Their arms can scarce forbear a rough embrace.
Equipp'd for flight, her vassals-Greek and Mocz; He, half forgetting danger and defeat,
Silent but quick they stoop, his chains unbind;

Returns their greeting as a chief may greet,
Once more his limbs are free as mountain wind;

Wrings with a cordial grasp Anselmo's hand,
But on his heavy heart such sadness sate,

And feels he yet can conquer and command !
As if they there transferr'd that iron weight.
No words are utter'd-at her sign, a door

XVI.
Reveals the secret passage to the shore ;

These greetings o'er, the feelings that o'erflow,
The city lies behind-they speed, they reach Yet grieve to win him back without a blow;
The glad waves dancing on the yellow beach ;

They sail'd prepared for vengeance - had they
And Conrad following, at her beck, obey'd,

known
Nor cared he now if rescued or betray'd :

A woman's hand secured that deed her own,
Resistance were as useless as if Seyd

She were their queen-less scrupulous are they
Yet lived to view the doom his ire decreed.

Than haughty Conrad how they win their way. XIII.

With many an asking smile, and wondering stare,
Embark'd, the sail unfurl'd, the light breeze blew And her, at once above-beneath her sex,

They whisper round, and gaze upon Gulnare :
How much had Conrad's memory to review !
Sunk he in Contemplation, till the cape

Whom blood appallid not, their regards perplex.
Where last he anchor'd rear'd its giant shape.

To Conrad turns her faint imploring eye,
Ah !-since that fatal night, though brief the time, Her arms are meekly folded on that breast,

She drops her veil, and stands in silence by;
Had swept an age of terror, grief, and crime.

Which-Conrád safeto fate resign'd the rest.
As its far shadow frown'd above the mast,
He veil'd his face, and sorrow'd as he past;

Though worse than frenzy could that bosom fill,

Extreme in love or hate, in good or ill,
He thought of all-Gonsalvo and his band,

The worst of crimes had left her woman still !
His feeting triumph, and his failing hand;
He thought on her afar, his lonely bride :
He turn'd and saw-Gulnare, the homicide !

XVII.

This Conrad mark'd, and felt-ah! could he less ? XIV.

Hate of that deed—but grief for her distress;
She watch'd his features till she could not bear What she has done no tears can wash away,
Their freezing aspect and averted air,

And Heaven must punish on its angry day:
And that strange fierceness foreign to her eye, But it was done: he knew, whate'er her guilt,
Fell quench'd in tears, too late to shed or dry. For him that poniard smote, that blood was spilt ,

And he was free !-and she for him had given He snatch'd the lamp-its light will answer all-
Her all on earth, and more than all in heaven! It quits his grasp, expiring in the fall.
And now he turn'd him to that dark-ey'd slave He would not wait for that reviving ray-
Whose brow was bow'd beneath the glance he gave, As soon could he have linger'd there for day;
Who now seem'd changed and humbled :-faint and But, glimmering through the dusky corridore,
meek,

Another checkers o'er the shadow'd floor;
But varying oft the color of her cheek

His steps the chamber gain-his eyes behold
To deeper shades of palenessmall its red

All that his heart believed not yet foretold'.
That fearful spot which stain'd it from the dead !
He took that hand-it trembled-now too late-

XX.
So soft in loveso wildly nerved in hate;
He clasped that hand-it trembled--and his own

He turn'd not-spoke not-sunk not-fix'd his Had lost its firmness, and his voice its tone.

look, “Gulnare!"-but she replied not-dear Gulnare!" And set the anxious frame that lately shook : She raised her eye-her only answer there

He gazed-how long we gaze despite of pain, At once she sought and sunk in his embrace:

And know, but dare not own, we gaze in vain ! If he had driven her from that resting-place,

In life itself she was so still and fair, His had been more or less than mortal heart,

That death with gentler aspect wither'd there; But-good or ill-it bade her not depart.

And the cold flowers 17 her colder hand contain'd, Perchance, but for the bodings of his breast,

In the last grasp as tenderly were strain'd His latest virtue then had join'd the rest.

As if she scarcely felt, but feign'd a sleep, Yet even Medora might forgive the kiss

And made it almost mockery yet to weep : That ask'd from form so fair no more than this,

The long dark lashes fringed her lids of snow, The first, the last that Frailty stole from Faith

And veil'd-thought shrinks from all that lurk'd To lips where Love had lavish'd all his breath,

belowTo lips-whose broken sighs such fragrance fling,

Oh! o'er the eye Death most exerts his might, As he had fann'd them freshly with his wing!

And hurls the spirit from her throne of light!

Sinks those blue orbs in that long last eclipse, XVIII.

But spares, as yet, the charm around her lipsThey gain by twilight's hour their lonely isle: Yet, yet they seem as they forbore to smile, To them the very rocks appear to smile;

And wish'd repose-but only for a while; The haven hums with many a cheering sound,

But the white shroud, and each extended tress, The beacons blaze their wonted stations round,

Long-fair-but spread in utter lifelessness, The boats are darting o'er the curly bay,

Which, late the sport of every summer wind, And sportive dolphins bend them through the spray; Escaped the bañed wreath that strove to bind; Even the hoarse sea-bird's shrill, discordant shriek, These—and the pale pure cheek, became the bier Greets like the welcome of his tuneless beak! But she is nothing-wherefore is he here? Beneath each lamp that through its lattice gleams, Their fancy paints the friends that trim the beams.

XXI. Oh! what can sanctify the joys of home,

He ask'a no question—all were answer'd now Like Hope's gay glance from Ocean's troubled foam ? By the first glance on that still marble brow. XIX.

It was enough--she died-what reck'd it how?

The love of youth, the hope of better years, The lights are high on beacon and from bower,

The source of softest wishes, tenderest fears,
And midst them Conrad seeks Medora's tower :

The only living thing he couid not hate,
He looks in vaintis strangemand all remark, Was reft at once and he deserved his fate,
Amid so many, her's alone is dark.

But did not feel it less ;-the good explore, 'Tis strange of yore its welcome never fail'd,

For peace, those realms where guilt can never soar, Nor now, perchance, extinguish'd, only veil'd.

The proud—the wayward—who have fix'd below With the first boat descends he for the shore,

Their joy, and find this earth enough for wo, And looks impatient on the lingering oar.

Lose in that one their all—perchance a miteOh! for a wing beyond the falcon's flight,

But who in patience parts with all delight? To bear him like an arrow to that height!

Full many a stoic eye and aspect stern With the first pause the resting rowers gave,

Mask hearts where grief hath little left to learn; He waits not-looks not-leaps into the wave,

And many a withering thought lies hid, not lost, Strives through the surge, bestrides the beach, and In smiles that least befit who wear them most.

high Ascends the path familiar to his eye.

XXII.
He reach'd his turret door-he paused-no sound By those, that deepest feel, is ill exprest
Broke from within ; and all was night around. The indistinctness of the suffering breast;
He knock'd, and loudly-footstep nor reply Where thousand thoughts begin to end in one,
Announced that any heard or deem'd him nigh; Which seeks for all the refuge found in none;
He knock'd—but faintly-for his trembling hand No words suffice the secret soul to show,
Refused to aid his heavy heart's demand.

For Truth denies all eloquence to Wo.
The portal opens-'tis a well-known face On Conrad's stricken soul exhaustion prest,
But not the form he panted to embrace.

And stupor almost lulled it into rest :
Its lips are silent-twice his own essay'd,

So feeble now-his mother's softness crept And fail'd to frame the question they delay'd; To those wild eyes, which like an infant's wept;

It was the very weakness of his brain,

The gentle plant hath left no leaf to tell Which thus confess'd without relieving pain. Its tale, but shrunk and wither'd where it fell, None saw his trickling tears-perchance if seen, And of its cold protector, blacken round That useless flood of grief had never been: But shiver'd fragments on the barren ground ! Nor long they flow'd-he dried them to depart, In helpless-hopeless-brokenness of heart:

XXIV. The sun goes forth-but Conrad's day is dim:

'Tis morn-to venture on his lonely hour And the night cometh-ne'er to pass from him. Few dare; though now Anselmo sought his tower. There is no darkness like the cloud of mind, He was not there-nor seen along the shore; On Grief's vain eye-the blindest of the blind! Ere night, alarm’d, their isle is traversed o'er: Which may not-dare not see-but turns aside Another morn-another bids them seek, To blackest shade-nor will endure a guide ! And shout his name till echo waxeth weak;

Mount-grotto-cavera-valley search'd in vain, XXIII.

They find on shore a sea-boat's broken chain: His heart was formed for softness-warp'd to wrong; Their hope revives—they follow o'er the main. Betray'd too early, and beguiled too long; 'Tis idle all-moons roll on moons away, Each feeling pure-as falls the dropping dew And Conrad comes not-came not since that day: Within the grot; like that had harden'd too; Nor trace, nor tidings of his doom declare Less clear, perchance, its earthly trials pass'd, Where lives his grief, or perish'd his despair ! But sunk, and chill'd, and petrified at last. Long mourn'd his band whom none could mourn Yet tempests wear, and lightning cleaves the rock, beside; If such his heart, so shatter'd it the shock. And fair the monument they gave his bride : There grew one flower beneath its rugged brow, For him they raise not the recording stoneThough dark the shaderit shelter'd-saved till now. His death yet dubious, deeds too widely known; The thunder came-that bolt hath blasted both, He left a Corsair's name to other times, the Granite's firmness, and the Lily's growth: Link'd with one virtue, and a thousand crimes 18

NOTES TO THE CORSAIR.

The time in this poem may seem too short for

5. the occurrences, but the whole of the Ægean isles While dance the Almas to uild minstretsy. are within a few hours' sail of the continent, and the reader must be kind enough to take the roind as

Page 141, line 42. I have often found it.

Dancing girls,

6. 1.

A captive Dervise, from the Pirate's nest. Of fair Olympia loved and left of old.

Page 141, line 55. Page 139, line 90. Orlando, Canto 10.

It has been objected that Conrad's entering dis2.

guised as a spy is out of nature.-Perhaps so. I

find something not unlike it in history. Around the waves phosphoric brightness broke. "Anxious to explore with his own eyes the state

Page 140, line 100. of the Vandals, Majorian ventured, after disguising By night, particularly in a warm latitude, every the color of his hair, to visit Carthage in the charstroke of the oar, every motion of the boat or ship, acter of his own ambassador; and Genseric was is followed by a slight flash like sheet lightning afterwards mortified by the discovery, that he had from the water.

entertained and dismissed the Emperor of the Ro3.

mans. Such an anecdote may be rejected as an

improbable fiction ; but it is a fiction which would Though to the rest the sober berry's

juice.

not have been imagined unless in the life of a Page 141, line 39.

hero.”—Gibbon, D. and F., vol. vi. p. 180.

That Conrad is a character not altogether out of 4.

nature I shall attempt to prove by some historical The long Chibouque's dissolving cloud supply: coincidences which I have met with since writing

Page 141, line 41. “ The Corsair."

“Eccelin prisonnier,” dit Rolandini, “s'enfer

Coffee.

Pipe.

c. 33.

moit dans un silence menaçant, il fixoit sur la terre. The Kiosk is a Turkish summer-house: the palma son visage feroce, et ne donnoit point d'essor à sa is without the present walls of Athens, not far from profonde indignation.-De toutes parts cependant the temple of Theseus, between which and the tree les soldats et les peuples accouroient; ils vouloient the wall intervenes.-Cephisus' stream is indeed voir cet homme, jadis si puissant, et la joie univer- scanty, and Ilissus has no stream at all. selle éclatoit de toutes parts.

15. “Eccelin étoit d'une petite taillie ; mais tout l'as- That frown *-where gentler ocean seems to smile. pect de sa personne, tous ses mouvemens, indiquoi

Page 146, line 20. ent un soldat. -Son langage étoit amer, son déportement superbe-et par son seul égard, il faisoit

The opening lines as far as Section II. have, pertrembler les plus hardis.” Sismondi, tome III. page unpublished (though printed) poem ; but they were

haps, little business here, and were annexed to an 219, 220.

"Gizericus (Genseric, king of the Vandals, the written on the spot in the spring of 1811, and I conqueror of both Carthage and Rome) statura scarce know why-the reader must excuse their ap: mediocris, et equi casu claudicans, animo profundus, pearance here if he can. sermone rarus, luxuriæ contemptor, ira turbidus,

16. habendi cupidus, ad solicitandas gentes providen

His only bends in seeming o'er his beads. tissimus," &c., &c. Jornandes de Rebus Geticis,

Page 146, line 104. I beg leave to quote these gloomy realities to keep

The Comboloio, or Mahometan rosary; the beads in countenance my Giaour and Corsair.

are in number ninety-nine. 7.

17. And my stern row and order's law oppose.

And the cold flowers her colder hand contain'd. Page 142, line 17.

Page 150, line 75. The dervises are in colleges, and of different or the bodies of the dead, and in the hands of young

In the Levant it is the custom to strew flowers on ders, as the monks. 8.

persons to place a nosegay. They seize that Dervise !-seize on Zatanai!

18. Page 142, line 52. Satan.

Link'd with one virtue, and a thousand crimes. 9.

Page 151, line 43. He tore his beard, and foaming fted the fight.

That the point of honor which is represented in

one instance of Conrad's character has not been Page 142, line 73.

carried beyond the bounds of probability may perA common and not very novel effect of Mussul- haps be in some degree confirmed by the following man anger. See Prince Eugene's Memoirs, page anecdote of a brother Buccaneer in the year 1814. 24. “The Seraskier received a wound in the thigh ; Our readers have all seen the account of the enhe plucked up his beard by the roots, because he terprise against the pirates of Barrataria ; but few, was obliged to quit the field.”

we believe, were informed of the situation, history,

or nature of that establishment. For the informa10.

tion of such as were unacquainted with it, we have Brief time had Conrad now

to greet Gulnare.

procured from a friend the following interesting

Page 142, line 117. narrative of the main facts, of which he has perGulnare, a female name; it means, literally, the some of our readers.

sonal knowledge, and which cannot fail to interest flower of the pomegranate.

Barrataria is a bay, or a narrow arm of the Gulf of

Mexico: it runs through a rich but very flat country 11.

until it reaches within a mile of the Mississippi Till even the scaffold echoes with their jest ! River fifteen miles below the city of New Orleans.

Page 144, line 87. The bay has branches almost innumerable, in which In Sir Thomas More, for instance, on the scaffold, persons can lie concealed from the severest scrutiny. and Anne Boleyn, in the Tower, when grasping her It communicates with three lakes which lie on the neck, she remarked that it " was too slender to southwest side, and these, with the lake of the trouble the headsman much.” During one part of same name, and which lies contiguous to the sea, the French Revolution, it became a fashion to leave where there is an island formed by the two arms of some “mot” as a legacy; and the quantity of fa- this lake and the sea. The east and west points of cetious last words spoken during that period would this island were fortified, in the year 1811, by a band form a melancholy jest-book of a considerable size. of pirates under the command of one Monsieur La

Fitte. A large majority of these outlaws are of 12.

that class of the population of the State of Louisi

ana who fled from the Island of St. Domingo dur. That closed their murder'd sage's latest day.

ing the troubles there, and took refuge in the Page 145, line 100.

Island of Cuba: and when the last war between Socrates drank the hemlock a short time before France and Spain commenced, they were sunset, (the hour of execution,) notwithstanding pelled to leave that island with the short notice the entreaties of his disciples to wait till the sun of a few days. Without ceremony, they entered went down.

com

29 deg. 15 min. lon. 92. 30. and is as remarkable for measure connected with the profession of the hero its health, as for the superior scale and shell-fish of the foregoing poem, I cannot resist the temptawith which its waters abound. The chief of this tion of extracting it. horde, like Charles de Moor, had mixed with his “There is something mysterious in the history many rices some virtues. In the year 1813, this and character of Dr. Blackbourne. The former is party had from its turpitude and boldness, claimed but imperfectly known; and report has even asthe attention of the Governor of Louisiana; and to serted he was a buccaneer; and that one of his break up the establishment, he thought proper to brethren in that profession having asked, on his arstrike at the head. He therefore offered a reward rival in England, what had become of his old chum, of five hundred dollars for the head of Monsieur La Blackbourne, was answered, he is archbishop of Fitte who was well known to the inhabitants of the York. We are informed, that Blackbourne was incity of New Orleans, from his immediate connexion, stalled sub-dean of Exeter, in 1694, which office he and his once having been a fencing-master in that resigned in 1702; but after his successor Lewis Barcity of great reputation, which art he learnt in net's death, in 1704, he regained it. In the followBonaparte's army, where he was captain. The re- ing year he became dean; and, in 1714, held with it ward which was offered by the Governor for the the archdeanery of Cornwall. He was consecrated head of La Fitte was answered by the offer of a re-bishop of Exeter, February 24, 1716; and translated ward from the latter of fifteen thousand for the head to York, November 28, 1724, as a reward, accordof the Governor. The Governor ordered out a com- ing to court scandal, for uniting George I. to the pany to march from the city to La Fitte's island, Duchess of Munster. This, however, appears to and to burn and destroy all the property, and to have been an unfounded calumny. As archbishop bring to the city of New Orleans all his banditti

. he behaved with great prudence, and was equally This company, under the command of a man who respectable as the guardian of the revenues of the had been the intimate associate of this bold Cap- see. Rumor whispered he retained the vices of his tain, approached very near to the fortified island, youth, and that a passion for the fair sex formed an before he saw a man, or heard a sound, until he item in the list of his weaknesses; but so far from heard a whistle, not unlike a boatswain's call. being convicted by seventy witnesses, he does not Then it was he found himself surrounded by axmed appear to have been directly criminated by one. In men who had emerged from the secret avenues short, I look upon these aspersions as the effects of which led into Bayou. Here it was that the mod- mere malice. How is it possible a buccaneer should ern Charles de Moor developed his few noble traits ; have been so good a scholar as Blackbourne cerfor to this man, who had come to destroy his life tainly was ? he who had so perfect a knowledge of and all that was dear to him, he not only spared his the classics, (particularly of the Greek tragedians,) life, but offered him that which would have made as to be able to read them with the same ease as he the honest soldier easy for the remainder of his could Shakspeare, must have taken great pains to days, which was indignantly refused. He then, acquire the learned languages; and have had both with the approbation of his captor, returned to the leisure and good masters. But he was undoubtedly city. This circumstance, and some concomitant educated at Christchurch College, Oxford. He is events, proved that this band of pirates was not to allowed to have been a pleasant man: this, howbe taken by land. Our naval force having always ever, was turned against him, by its being said, he been small in that quarter, exertions for the destruc- gained more hearts than souls.''! tion of this illicit establishment could not be expected from them until augmented ; for an officer of the navy, with most of the gunboats on that “The only voice that could soothe the passions that station, had to retreat from an overwhelming of the savage, (Alphonso III.) was that of an amiaforce of La Fitte's. So soon as the augmentation ble and virtuous wife, the sole object of his love; of the navy authorized an attack, one was made; the voice of Donna Isabella, the daughter of the the overthrow of this banditti has been the result; Duke of Savoy, and the grand-daughter of Philip II. and now this almost invulnerable point and key to King of Spain.--Her dying words sunk deep into New Orleans is clear of an enemy, it is to be hoped his memory; his fierce spirit melted into tears; and the government will hold it by a strong military after the last embrace, Alphonso retired into his force.-From an American Newspaper.

chamber to bewail his irreparable loss, and to mediIn Noble's continuation of Granger's Biographi- tate on the vanity of human life.- Miscellaneous cal History, there is a singular passage in his ac- Works of Gibbon, New Edition. 8vo. vol. ii. page count of Archbishop Blac. bourne, and as in some 473.

20