The better days of life were ours;

The worst can be but mine; The sun that cheers, the storm that lowers,

Shall never more be thine.

The silence of that dreamless sleep
I envy now too much to weep;
Nor need I to repine,

That all those charms have pass'd away; I might have watch'd through long decay.

The flower in ripen'd bloom unmatch'd
Must fall the earliest prey;
Though by no hand untimely snatch'd,
The leaves must drop away;
And yet it were a greater grief
To watch it withering leaf by leaf,
Than see it pluck'd to-day ;
Since earthly eye but ill can bear
To trace the change to foul from fair.

I know not if I could have borne
To see thy beauties fade;
The night that follow'd such a morn
Had worn a deeper shade:
Thy day without a cloud hath pass'd,
And thou wert lovely to the last;

Extinguish'd, not decay'd;

As stars that shoot along the sky Shine brightest as they fall from high.

As once I wept, if I could weep,

My tears might well be shed,
To think I was not near to keep
One vigil o'er thy bed;
To gaze, how fondly! on thy face,
To fold thee in a faint embrace,

Uphold thy drooping head;
And show that love, however vain,
Nor thou nor I can feel again.

Yet how much less it were to gain,
Though thou hast left me free,
The loveliest things that still remain,
Than thus remember thee!
The all of thine that cannot die
Through dark and dread Eternity
Returns again to me,

And more thy buried love endears
Than aught except its living years.
February, 1812. 1812.

WHEN WE TWO PARTED

WHEN we two parted In silence and tears. Half broken-hearted

To sever for years,

Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow-
It felt like the warning

Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me-
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well:
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met

In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee

After long years,

How should I greet thee?— With silence and tears. ?.... 1816,

THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS

A TURKISH TALE

"Had we never loved so kindly,

Had we never loved so blindly,

Never met or never parted,

We had ne'er been broken-hearted."-BURNS.

CANTO THE FIRST

KNOW ye the land where the cypress and myrtle

Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime?

Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle,

Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime !

Know ye the land of the cedar and vine, Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine:

Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppress'd with perfume,

Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gúl in her bloom;

Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit,

And the voice of the nightingale never is mute:

Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky,

In color though varied, in beauty may vie,

And the purple of ocean is deepest in dye;

Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine,

And all, save the spirit of man, is divine? 'T is the clime of the East; 't is the land of the Sun

Can he smile on such deeds as his children have done?

Oh! wild as the accents of lovers' farewell

Are the hearts which they bear, and the tales which they tell.

Begirt with many a gallant slave,
Apparell'd as becomes the brave,
Awaiting each his lord's behest
To guide his steps, or guard his rest,
Old Giaffir sate in his Divan:

Deep thought was in his aged eye;
And though the face of Mussulman
Not oft betrays to standers by
The mind within, well skill'd to hide
All but unconquerable pride,

His pensive cheek and pondering brow
Did more than he was wont avow.

"Father! for fear that thou shouldst chide

My sister, or her sable guide,
Know-for the fault, if fault there be,
Was mine, then fall thy frowns on me-
So lovelily the morning shone,

That-let the old and weary sleep-
I could not; and to view alone

The fairest scenes of land and deep, With none to listen and reply

To thoughts with which my heart beat high

Were irksome-for whate'er my mood, In sooth I love not solitude;

I on Zuleika's slumber broke,

And, as thou knowest that for me
Soon turns the Haram's grating key,
Before the guardian slaves awoke
We to the cypress groves had flown,
And made earth, main, and heaven our
own!

There linger'd we, beguiled too long
With Mejnoun's tale, or Sadi's song;
Till I, who heard the deep tambour
Beat thy Divan's approaching hour,
To thee, and to my duty true,
Warn'd by the sound, to greet thee
flew;

But there Zuleika wanders yet-
Nay, Father, rage not-nor forget
That none can pierce that secret bower
But those who watch the woman's
tower."

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Son of a slave "-the Pacha said—

From unbelieving mother bred,

Vain were a father's hope to see
Aught that beseems a man in thee.

Thou, when thine arm should bend the bow,

And hurl the dart, and curb the steed, Thou, Greek in soul if not in creed, Must pore where babbling waters flow, And watch unfolding roses blow. Would that yon orb, whose matin glow Thy listless eyes so much admire, Would lend thee something of his fire! Thou, who wouldst see this battlement By Christian cannon piecemeal rent; Nay, tamely view old Stambol's wall Before the dogs of Moscow fall, Nor strike one stroke for life and death Against the curs of Nazareth! Go-let thy less than woman's hand Assume the distaff-not the brand. But, Haroun !-to my daughter speed! And hark-of thine own head take heedIf thus Zuleika oft takes wingThou see'st yon bow-it hath a string!"

No sound from Selim's lip was heard, At least that met old Ĝiaffir's ear. But every frown and every word Pierced keener than a Christian's sword. "Son of a slave !-reproach'd with fear!

Those gibes had cost another dear. Son of a slave !-and who my sire?" Thus held his thoughts their dark

career;

And glances ev'n of more than ire
Flash forth, then faintly disappear.
Old Giaffir gazed upon his son

And started; for within his eye
He read how much his wrath had done;
He saw rebellion there begun :

"Come hither, boy-what, no reply? I mark thee-and I know thee too; But there be deeds thou dar'st not do: But if thy beard had manlier length, And if thy hand had skill and strength, I'd joy to see thee break a lance, Albeit against my own perchance."

I'll watch him closer than before.
He is an Arab to my sight,
Or Christian crouching in the fight-
But hark!--I hear Zuleika's voice;

Like Houris' hymn it meets mine ear; She is the offspring of my choice;

Oh! more than ev'n her mother dear, With all to hope, and nought to fearMy Peri! ever welcome here! Sweet, as the desert fountain's wave To lips just cool'd in time to save

Such to my longing sight art thoy · Nor can they waft to Mecca's shrine More thanks for life, than I for thine, Who blest thy birth and bless the now."

Fair, as the first that fell of womankind, When on that dread yet lovely serpent smiling,

Whose image then was stamp'd upon her mind-

But once beguil'd-and ever more beguiling;

Dazzling, as that, oh! too transcendent vision

To Sorrow's phantom-peopled slumber given,

When heart meets heart again in dreams Elysian,

And paints the lost on Earth revived in Heaven;

Soft, as the memory of buried love; Pure, as the prayer which Childhood wafts above

Was she--the daughter of that rude old Chief,

Who met the maid with tears-but not of grief.

Who hath not proved how feebly words

essay

To fix one spark of Beauty's heavenly ray?

Who doth not feel, until his failing sight

Faints into dimness with its own delight,

His changing cheek, his sinking heart confess

The might, the majesty of Loveliness? Such was Zuleika, such around her shone

The nameless charms unmark'd by her alone

The light of love, the purity of grace, The mind, the Music breathing from

her face,

The heart whose softness harmonized the whole,

And oh! that eye was in itself a Soul !

Her graceful arms in meekness bending
Across her gently budding breast;
At one kind word those arms extending
To clasp the neck of him who blest
His child caressing and carest,
Zuleika came-and Giaffir felt
His purpose half within him melt:
Not that against her fancied weal
His heart though stern could ever feel;
Affection chain'd her to that heart;
Ambition tore the links apart.

"Zuleika! child of gentleness!

How dear this very day must tell,

When I forget my own distress,
In losing what I love so well,
To bid thee with another dwell:
Another and a braver man
Was never seen in battle's van.
We Moslem reck not much of blood;
But yet the line of Carasman
Unchanged, unchangeable hath stood
First of the bold Timariot bands
That won and well can keep their lands.
Enough that he who comes to woo
Is kinsman of the Bey Oglou:
His years need scarce a thought employ,
I would not have thee wed a boy.
And thou shalt have a noble dower:
And his and my united power
Will laugh to scorn the death-firman,
Which others tremble but to scan,
And teach the messenger what fate
The bearer of such boon may wait.
And now thou know'st thy father's will:
All that thy sex hath need to know:
'T was mine to teach obedience still-
The way to love, thy lord may show."
In silence bow'd the virgin's head;

And if her eye was fill'd with tears
That stifled feeling dare not shed,
And changed her cheek from pale to
red,

And red to pale, as througn her ears Those winged words like arrows sped,

What could such be but maiden fears i So bright the tear in Beauty's eye, Love half regrets to kiss it dry; So sweet the blush of Bashfulness, Even Pity scarce can wish it less! Whate'er it was the sire forgot; Or if remember'd, mark'd it not; Thrice clapp'd his hands, and call'd hi steed,

Resign'd his gem-adorn'd chibouque, And mounting featly for the mead, With Maugrabee and Mamaluke, His way amid his Delis took. To witness many an active deed With sabre keen, or blunt jerreed. The Kislar only and his Moors Watch well the Haram's massy doors.

His head was leant upon his hand,

His eye look'd o'er the dark blue water

That swiftly glides and gently swells
Between the winding Dardanelles;
But yet he saw nor sea nor strand,
Nor even his Pacha's turban'd band

Mix in the game of mimic slaughter, Careering cleave the folded felt.

With sabre stroke right sharply dealt;
Nor mark'd the javelin-darting crowd
Nor heard their Ollahs wild and loud-
He thought but of old Giaffir's
daughter!

No word from Selim's bosom broke ;
One sigh Zuleika's thought bespoke:
Still gazed he through the lattice grate,
Pale, mute, and mournfully sedate.
To him Zuleika's eye was turn'd,
But little from his aspect learn'd:
Equal her grief, yet not the same;
Her heart confess'd a gentler flame:
But yet that heart, alarm'd or weak,
She knew not why, forbade to speak.
Yet speak she must-but when essay?
"How strange he thus should turn
away!

Not thus we e'er before have met;
Nor thus shall be our parting yet.'
Thrice paced she slowly through the

room,

And watch'd his eye-it still was fix'd : She snatch'd the urn wherein was mix'd

The Persian Atar-gul's perfume,
And sprinkled all its odors o'er
The pictured roof and marble floor:
The drops, that through his glittering
vest

The playful girl's appeal address'd,
Unheeded o'er his bosom flew,

As if that breast were marble too.
What, sullen yet? it must not be-
Oh! gentle Selim, this from thee!"
She saw in curious order set

The fairest flowers of eastern land"He loved them once: may touch them yet,

If offer'd by Zuleika's hand."

The childish thought was hardly brea thed

Before the rose was pluck'd and wrea thed;

The next fond moment saw her seat
Her fairy form at Selim's feet:
"This rose to calm my brother's cares
A message from the Bulbul bears;
It says to-night he will prolong
For Selim's ear his sweetest song;
And though his note is somewhat sad,
He'll try for once a strain more glad,
With some faint hope his alter'd lay
May sing these gloomy thoughts away.

"What! not receive my foolish flower?
Nay then I am indeed unblest:
On me can thus thy forehead lower?

And know'st thou not who loves thee best?

Oh, Selim dear! oh, more than dearest!
Say, is it me thou hat'st or fearest?
Come, lay thy head upon my breast,
And I will kiss thee into rest,

Since words of mine, and songs must fail,

Ev'n from my fabled nightingale.
I knew our sire at times was stern,
But this from thee had yet to learn:
Too well I know he loves thee not;
But is Zuleika's love forgot?
Ah! deem I right? the Pacha's plan-
This kinsman Bey of Carasman
Perhaps may prove some foe of thine.
If so, I swear by Mecca's shrine,-
If shrines that ne'er approach allow
To woman's step, admit her vow,-
Without thy free consent, command,
The Sultan should not have my hand!
Think'st thou that I could bear to part
With thee, and learn to halve my heart?
Ah! were I sever'd from thy side,
Where were thy friend-and who my
guide?

Years have not seen, Time shall not see
The hour that tears my soul from thee!
Ev'n Azrael, from his deadly quiver

When flies that shaft, and fly it must, That parts all else, shall doom for ever Our hearts to undivided dust!"

He lived, he breathed, he moved, he felt; He raised the maid from where she knelt ;

His trance was gone, his keen eye shone With thoughts that long in darkness dwelt:

With thoughts that burn-in rays that melt.

As the stream late conceal'd

By the fringe of its willows, When it rushes reveal'd

In the light of its billows; As the bolt bursts on high

From the black cloud that bound it, Flash'd the soul of that eye

Through the long lashes round it. A war-horse at the trumpet's sound, A lion roused by heedless hound, A tyrant waked to sudden strife By graze of ill-directed knife, Starts not to more convulsive life Than he, who heard that vow, display'd, And all, before repress'd, betray'd:

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Now thou art mine, for ever mine, With life to keep, and scarce with life resign;