The Works of Lord Byron Volume III Part 46

"Gulnare--Gulnare--I never felt till now My abject fortune, withered fame so low: Seyd is mine enemy; had swept my band From earth with ruthless but with open hand, And therefore came I, in my bark of war, 1530 To smite the smiter with the scimitar; Such is my weapon--not the secret knife; Who spares a Woman's seeks not Slumber's life.

Thine saved I gladly, Lady--not for this; Let me not deem that mercy shown amiss.

Now fare thee well--more peace be with thy breast!

Night wears apace, my last of earthly rest!"[ic]

"Rest! rest! by sunrise must thy sinews shake, And thy limbs writhe around the ready stake, I heard the order--saw--I will not see-- 1540 If thou wilt perish, I will fall with thee.

My life--my love--my hatred--all below Are on this cast--Corsair! 'tis but a blow!

Without it flight were idle--how evade His sure pursuit?--my wrongs too unrepaid, My youth disgraced--the long, long wasted years, One blow shall cancel with our future fears; But since the dagger suits thee less than brand, I'll try the firmness of a female hand.

The guards are gained--one moment all were o'er-- 1550 Corsair! we meet in safety or no more; If errs my feeble hand, the morning cloud Will hover o'er thy scaffold, and my shroud."

IX.

She turned, and vanished ere he could reply, But his glance followed far with eager eye; And gathering, as he could, the links that bound His form, to curl their length, and curb their sound, Since bar and bolt no more his steps preclude, He, fast as fettered limbs allow, pursued.

'Twas dark and winding, and he knew not where 1560 That pa.s.sage led; nor lamp nor guard was there: He sees a dusky glimmering--shall he seek Or shun that ray so indistinct and weak?

Chance guides his steps--a freshness seems to bear Full on his brow as if from morning air; He reached an open gallery--on his eye Gleamed the last star of night, the clearing sky: Yet scarcely heeded these--another light From a lone chamber struck upon his sight.

Towards it he moved; a scarcely closing door 1570 Revealed the ray within, but nothing more.

With hasty step a figure outward pa.s.sed, Then paused, and turned--and paused--'tis She at last!

No poniard in that hand, nor sign of ill-- "Thanks to that softening heart--she could not kill!"

Again he looked, the wildness of her eye Starts from the day abrupt and fearfully.

She stopped--threw back her dark far-floating hair, That nearly veiled her face and bosom fair, As if she late had bent her leaning head 1580 Above some object of her doubt or dread.

They meet--upon her brow--unknown--forgot-- Her hurrying hand had left--'twas but a spot-- Its hue was all he saw, and scarce withstood-- Oh! slight but certain pledge of crime--'tis Blood!

X.

He had seen battle--he had brooded lone O'er promised pangs to sentenced Guilt foreshown; He had been tempted--chastened--and the chain Yet on his arms might ever there remain: But ne'er from strife--captivity--remorse-- 1590 From all his feelings in their inmost force-- So thrilled, so shuddered every creeping vein, As now they froze before that purple stain.

That spot of blood, that light but guilty streak, Had banished all the beauty from her cheek!

Blood he had viewed--could view unmoved--but then It flowed in combat, or was shed by men![id]

XI.

"'Tis done--he nearly waked--but it is done.

Corsair! he perished--thou art dearly won.

All words would now be vain--away--away! 1600 Our bark is tossing--'tis already day.

The few gained over, now are wholly mine, And these thy yet surviving band shall join: Anon my voice shall vindicate my hand, When once our sail forsakes this hated strand."

XII.

She clapped her hands, and through the gallery pour, Equipped for flight, her va.s.sals--Greek and Moor; Silent but quick they stoop, his chains unbind; Once more his limbs are free as mountain wind!

But on his heavy heart such sadness sate, 1610 As if they there transferred that iron weight.

No words are uttered--at her sign, a door Reveals the secret pa.s.sage to the sh.o.r.e; The city lies behind--they speed, they reach The glad waves dancing on the yellow beach; And Conrad following, at her beck, obeyed, Nor cared he now if rescued or betrayed; Resistance were as useless as if Seyd Yet lived to view the doom his ire decreed.

XIII.

Embarked--the sail unfurled--the light breeze blew-- 1620 How much had Conrad's memory to review![ie]

Sunk he in contemplation, till the Cape Where last he anch.o.r.ed reared its giant shape.

Ah!--since that fatal night, though brief the time, Had swept an age of terror, grief, and crime.

As its far shadow frowned above the mast, He veiled his face, and sorrowed as he pa.s.sed; He thought of all--Gonsalvo and his band, His fleeting triumph and his failing hand; He thought on her afar, his lonely bride: 1630 He turned and saw--Gulnare, the Homicide!

XIV.

She watched his features till she could not bear Their freezing aspect and averted air; And that strange fierceness foreign to her eye Fell quenched in tears, too late to shed or dry.[if]

She knelt beside him and his hand she pressed, "Thou may'st forgive though Allah's self detest; But for that deed of darkness what wert thou?

Reproach me--but not yet--Oh! spare me _now!_ I am not what I seem--this fearful night 1640 My brain bewildered--do not madden quite!

If I had never loved--though less my guilt-- Thou hadst not lived to--hate me--if thou wilt."

XV.

She wrongs his thoughts--they more himself upbraid Than her--though undesigned--the wretch he made; But speechless all, deep, dark, and unexprest, They bleed within that silent cell--his breast.

Still onward, fair the breeze, nor rough the surge, The blue waves sport around the stern they urge; Far on the Horizon's verge appears a speck, 1650 A spot--a mast--a sail--an armed deck!

Their little bark her men of watch descry, And ampler canva.s.s woos the wind from high; She bears her down majestically near, Speed on her prow, and terror in her tier;[ig][233]

A flash is seen--the ball beyond her bow Booms harmless, hissing to the deep below.

Up rose keen Conrad from his silent trance, A long, long absent gladness in his glance; "'Tis mine--my blood-rag flag! again--again-- 1660 I am not all deserted on the main!"

They own the signal, answer to the hail, Hoist out the boat at once, and slacken sail.

"'Tis Conrad! Conrad!" shouting from the deck, Command nor Duty could their transport check!

With light alacrity and gaze of Pride, They view him mount once more his vessel's side; A smile relaxing in each rugged face, Their arms can scarce forbear a rough embrace.

He, half forgetting danger and defeat, 1670 Returns their greeting as a Chief may greet, Wrings with a cordial grasp Anselmo's hand, And feels he yet can conquer and command!

XVI.

These greetings o'er, the feelings that o'erflow, Yet grieve to win him back without a blow; They sailed prepared for vengeance--had they known A woman's hand secured that deed her own, She were their Queen--less scrupulous are they Than haughty Conrad how they win their way.

With many an asking smile, and wondering stare, 1680 They whisper round, and gaze upon Gulnare; And her, at once above--beneath her s.e.x, Whom blood appalled not, their regards perplex.[ih]

To Conrad turns her faint imploring eye, She drops her veil, and stands in silence by; Her arms are meekly folded on that breast, Which--Conrad safe--to Fate resigned the rest.

Though worse than frenzy could that bosom fill, Extreme in love or hate, in good or ill, The worst of crimes had left her Woman still! 1690

XVII.

This Conrad marked, and felt--ah! could he less?-- Hate of that deed--but grief for her distress; What she has done no tears can wash away, And Heaven must punish on its angry day: But--it was done: he knew, whate'er her guilt, For him that poniard smote, that blood was spilt; And he was free!--and she for him had given Her all on earth, and more than all in heaven![234]

And now he turned him to that dark-eyed slave Whose brow was bowed beneath the glance he gave, 1700 Who now seemed changed and humbled, faint and meek, But varying oft the colour of her cheek To deeper shades of paleness--all its red That fearful spot which stained it from the dead!

He took that hand--it trembled--now too late-- So soft in love--so wildly nerved in hate; He clasped that hand--it trembled--and his own Had lost its firmness, and his voice its tone.

"Gulnare!"--but she replied not--"dear Gulnare!"[ii]

She raised her eye--her only answer there-- 1710 At once she sought and sunk in his embrace: If he had driven her from that resting-place, His had been more or less than mortal heart, But--good or ill--it bade her not depart.

Perchance, but for the bodings of his breast, His latest virtue then had joined the rest.

Yet even Medora might forgive the kiss[ij]

That asked from form so fair no more than this, The first, the last that Frailty stole from Faith-- To lips where Love had lavished all his breath, 1720 To lips--whose broken sighs such fragrance fling, As he had fanned them freshly with his wing![ik]

XVIII.

They gain by twilight's hour their lonely isle.

To them the very rocks appear to smile; The haven hums with many a cheering sound, The beacons blaze their wonted stations round, The boats are darting o'er the curly bay, And sportive Dolphins bend them through the spray; Even the hoa.r.s.e sea-bird's shrill, discordant shriek, Greets like the welcome of his tuneless beak! 1730 Beneath each lamp that through its lattice gleams, Their fancy paints the friends that trim the beams.

Oh! what can sanctify the joys of home, Like Hope's gay glance from Ocean's troubled foam?[il]

XIX.

The lights are high on beacon and from bower, And 'midst them Conrad seeks Medora's tower: He looks in vain--'tis strange--and all remark, Amid so many, hers alone is dark.

'Tis strange--of yore its welcome never failed, Nor now, perchance, extinguished--only veiled. 1740 With the first boat descends he for the sh.o.r.e, And looks impatient on the lingering oar.

Oh! for a wing beyond the falcon's flight, To bear him like an arrow to that height!

With the first pause the resting rowers gave, He waits not--looks not--leaps into the wave, Strives through the surge, bestrides the beach, and high Ascends the path familiar to his eye.

He reached his turret door--he paused--no sound Broke from within; and all was night around. 1750 He knocked, and loudly--footstep nor reply Announced that any heard or deemed him nigh: He knocked, but faintly--for his trembling hand Refused to aid his heavy heart's demand.

The portal opens--'tis a well known face-- But not the form he panted to embrace.