Felt that for him earth held but her alone,

Kissed her cold forehead-turned-is Conrad gone?

He tears himself from his Medora, and departs on his desperate expedition. The manner of his setting out is highly characteristic: Around him mustering ranged his ready guard.

Before him Juan stands Are all prepared?'

They are-nay more-embarked: the latest boat
Waits but
my chief'

My sword and my capote.'

Soon firmly girded on, and lightly slung,

His belt and cloak were o'er his shoulders flung.
'Call Pedro here!' He comes-and Conrad bends
With all the courtesy he deigned his friends:
'Receive these tablets, and peruse with care,
Words of high trust and truth are graven there;
Double the guard, and when Anselmo's bark
Arrives, let him alike these orders mark:

In three days (serve the breeze) the sun shall shine
On our return-till then all peace be thine!'
This said, his brother pirate's hand he wrung,
Then to his boat with haughty gesture sprung.
Flashed the dipt oars, and, sparkling with the stroke,
Around the waves' phosphoric brightness broke ;
They gain the vessel on the deck he stands,
Shrieks the shrill whistle-ply the busy hands-
He marks how well the ship her helm obeys,
How gallant all her crew-and deigns to praise.
His eyes of pride to young Gonsalvo turn—
Why doth he start, and inly seem to mourn?
Alas! those eyes beheld his rocky tower,
And live a moment o'er the parting hour.
She-his Medora-did she mark the prow?
Ah! never loved he half so much as now!
But much must yet be done ere dawn of day—
Again he mans himself and turns away;
Down to the cabin with Gonsalvo bends,

And there unfolds his plan, his means, and ends.
Before them burns the lamp, and spreads the chart,
And all that speaks and aids the naval art:

They to the midnight watch protract debate;
To anxious eyes what hour is ever late?
Mean time the steady breeze serenely blew,
And fast and falcon-like the vessel flew;
Passed the high headlands of each clustering isle,
To gain their port-long-long ere morning smile:
And soon the night-glass through the narrow bay
Discovers where the Pacha's galleys lay.
Count they each sail—and mark how there supine
The lights in vain o'er heedless Moslem shine.
Secure, unnoted, Conrad's prow passed by,
And anchored where his ambush meant to lie;
Screened from espial by the jutting cape,
That rears on high its rude fantastic shape.
Then rose his band to duty-not from sleep-
Equipped for deeds alike on land or deep;
While leaned their leader o'er the fretting flood,
And calmly talked-and yet he talked of blood!

In the second canto the cause of Conrad's expedition is made appa rent. The Pacha Seyd had promised to attack and destroy the pirates, and Conrad resolved to anticipate him by carrying the war into his own palace. On the night when Conrad left his pirate-isle the Pacha had given a feast. The revels in his palace are well described, and are in progress when the arrival of a Dervise is announced, and a scene ensues which puts a stop to them:

With cautious reverence, from the outer gate,
Slow stalks the slave, whose office there to wail:
Bows bent his head-his hand salutes the floor,
Ere yet his tongue the trusted tidings bore:
A captive Dervise, from the pirate's nest
Escaped, is here-himself would tell the rest.'
He took the sign from Seyd's assenting eye,
And led the holy man in silence nigh.
His arms were folded on his dark-green vest,
His step was feeble, and his look deprest ;
Yet worn he seemed of hardship more than years,
And pale his cheek with penance, not from fears.
Vowed to his God-his sable locks he wore,
And these his lofty cap rose proudly o'er :

Around his form his loose long robe was thrown,
And wrapt a breast bestowed on heaven alone;
Submissive, yet with self-possession manned,
He calmly met the curious eyes that scanned,
And question of his coming fain would seek,
Before the Pacha's will allowed to speak.

Whence comest thou, Dervise?'

A fugitive'

From the outlaw's den,

Thy capture where and when ?'

From Scalanova's port to Scio's isle

The Saick was bound; but Alla did not smile
Upon our course-the Moslem merchant's gains
The rovers won our limbs have worn their chains.
I had no death to fear, nor wealth to boast,
Beyond the wandering freedom which I lost;
At length a fisher's humble boat by night
Afforded hope, and offered chance of flight:
I seized the hour, and find my safety here-
With thee, most mighty Pacha! who can fear?'

'How speed the outlaws? stand they well prepared,
Their plundered wealth, and robber's rock, to guard?
Dream they of this our preparation, doomed
To view with fire their scorpion nest consumed?'

Pacha! the fettered captive's mourning eye, That weeps for flight, but ill can play the spy; I only heard the reckless waters roar,

Those waves that would not bear me from the shore;

I only marked the glorious sun and sky,

Too bright-too blue-for my captivity;

And felt-that all which Freedom's bosom cheers
Must break my chain before it dried my tears.
This mayest thou judge, at least, from my escape,
They little deem of aught in peril's shape;
Else vainly had I prayed or sought the chance
That leads me here-if eyed with vigilance:
The careless guard, that did not see me fly,
May watch as idly when thy power is nigh:

Pacha!-my limbs are faint and nature craves
Food for my hunger, rest from tossing waves;
Permit my absence-Peace be with thee! Peace
With all around!-now grant repose-release.

Stay, Dervise! I have more to question-stay,
I do command thee-sit-dost hear ?—obey !
More I must ask, and food the slaves shall bring;
Thou shalt not pine where all are banqueting:
The supper done-prepare thee to reply
Clearly and full-I love not mystery.'

This, however, seems to be more than the good Dervise had reckoned on. Just as the conversation has ended, and the Pacha is permitting his departure, the palace is found to be in flames from the attack of the pirates. The Pacha discovers the treachery, and calls upon his guards to seize and cleave the Dervise. The conflict now begins:

Up rose the Dervise with that burst of light,
Nor less his change of form appalled the sight:
Up rose that Dervise-not in saintly garb,
But like a warrior bounding on his barb,
Dashed his high cap, and tore his robe away—
Shone his mailed breast, and flashed his sabre's ray!
His close but glittering casque, and sable plume,
More glittering eye, and black brow's sabler gloom,
Glared on the Moslems' eyes some Afrit sprite,
Whose demon death-blow left no hope for fight.
The wild confusion, and the swarthy glow
Of flames on high, and torches from below;
The shriek of terror, and the mingling yell-
For swords began to clash, and shouts to swell-
Flung o'er that spot of earth the air of hell!
Distracted, to and fro, the flying slaves
Behold but bloody shore and fiery waves;
Nought heeded they the Pacha's angry cry,
They seize that Dervise!-seize on Zatanai!
He saw their terror-checked the first despair
That urged him but to stand and perish there,
Since, far too early and too well obeyed,
The flame was kindled ere the signal made :

He saw their terror-from his baldric drew
His bugle-brief the blast-but shrilly blew.
'Tis answered- Well ye speed, my gallant crew!
Why did I doubt their quickness of career,
And deem design had left me single here?'
Sweeps his long arm-that sabre's whirling sway
Sheds fast atonement for its first delay;
Completes his fury what their fear begun,
And makes the many basely quail to one.
The cloven turbans o'er the chamber spread,
And scarce an arm dare rise to guard its head:
E'en Seyd, convulsed, o'erwhelmed with rage, surprise,
Retreats before him, though he still defies.

No craven he and yet he dreads the blow,
So much Confusion magnifies his foe!
His blazing galleys still distract his sight;
He tore his beard, and, foaming, fled the fight;
For now the pirates passed the Haram gaté,
And burst within-and it were death to wait;
Where wild Amazement shrieking-kueeling-throws
The sword aside-in vain-the blood o'erflows!
The corsairs, pouring, haste to where within
Invited Conrad's bugle; and the din
Of groaning victims, and wild cries for life,
Proclaimed how well he did the work of strife.
They shout to find him grim and lonely there,
A glutted tiger mangling in his lair!

But short their greeting-shorter his reply-
'Tis well-but Seyd escapes-and he must die,
Much hath been done-but more remains to do:
Their galleys blaze-why not their city too?"

Quick at the word-they seized him each a torch,
And fire the dome from minaret to porch.
A stern delight was fixed in Conrad's eye,
But sudden sunk-for on his ear the cry
Of women struck; and, like a deadly knell,
Knocked at that heart unmoved by battle's yell.
Oh! burst the Haram-wrong not, on your lives,
One female form-remember-we have wives.