Selected Poems

by Byron

  And how my birth disclosed to me,

  225

  Whate’er beside it makes, hath made me free.

  XIV

  ‘When Paswan, after years of strife,

  At last for power, but first for life,

  In Widin’s walls too proudly sate,

  Our Pachas rallied round the state;

  230

  Nor last nor least in high command,

  Each brother led a separate band;

  They gave their horsetails1 to the wind,

  And mustering in Sophia’s plain

  Their tents were pitch’d, their post assign’d;

  235

  To one, alas! assign’d in vain!

  What need of words? the deadly bowl,

  By Giaffir’s order drugg’d and given.

  With venom subtle as his soul,

  Dismiss’d Abdallah’s hence to heaven.

  240

  Reclined and feverish in the bath,

  He, when the hunter’s sport was up,

  But little deem’d a brother’s wrath

  To quench his thirst had such a cup:

  The bowl a bribed attendant bore;

  245

  He drank one draught2 nor needed more!

  If thou my tale, Zuleika, doubt,

  Call Haroun – he can tell it out.

  XV

  ‘The deed once done, and Paswan’s feud

  In part suppress’d, though ne’er subdued,

  250

  Abdallah’s Pachalick was gain’d: –

  Thou know’st not what in our Divan

  Can wealth procure for worse than man –

  Abdallah’s honours were obtain’d

  By him a brother’s murder stain’d;

  255

  ’Tis true, the purchase nearly drain’d

  His ill got treasure, soon replaced.

  Would’st question whence? Survey the waste,

  And ask the squalid peasant how

  His gains repay his broiling brow! –

  260

  Why me the stern usurper spared,

  Why thus with me his palace shared,

  I know not. Shame, regret, remorse,

  And little fear from infant’s force;

  Besides, adoption as a son

  265

  By him whom Heaven accorded none,

  Or some unknown cabal, caprice,

  Preserved me thus; – but not in peace:

  He cannot curb his haughty mood,

  Nor I forgive a father’s blood.

  XVI

  270

  ‘Within thy father’s house are foes;

  Not all who break his bread are true:

  To these should I my birth disclose,

  His days, his very hours were few:

  They only want a heart to lead,

  275

  A hand to point them to the deed.

  But Haroun only knows or knew

  This tale, whose close is almost nigh:

  He in Abdallah’s palace grew,

  And held that post in his Serai

  280

  Which holds he here – he saw him die:

  But what could single slavery do?

  Avenge his lord? alas! too late;

  Or save his son from such a fate?

  He chose the last, and when elate

  285

  With foes subdued, or friends betray’d,

  Proud Giaffir in high triumph sate,

  He led me helpless to his gate,

  And not in vain it seems essay’d

  To save the life for which he pray’d.

  290

  The knowledge of my birth secured

  From all and each, but most from me;

  Thus Giaffir’s safety was ensured.

  Removed he too from Roumelie

  To this our Asiatic side,

  295

  Far from our seats by Danube’s tide,

  With none but Haroun, who retains

  Such knowledge – and that Nubian feels

  A tyrant’s secrets are but chains,

  From which the captive gladly steals,

  300

  And this and more to me reveals:

  Such still to guilt just Alla sends –

  Slaves, tools, accomplices – no friends!

  XVII

  ‘All this, Zuleika, harshly sounds;

  But harsher still my tale must be:

  305

  Howe’er my tongue thy softness wounds,

  Yet I must prove all truth to thee.

  I saw thee start this garb to see,

  Yet is it one I oft have worn,

  And long must wear: this Galiongée,

  310

  To whom thy plighted vow is sworn,

  Is leader of those pirate hordes,

  Whose laws and lives are on their swords;

  To hear whose desolating tale

  Would make thy waning cheek more pale:

  315

  Those arms thou see’st my band have brought,

  The hands that wield are not remote;

  This cup too for the rugged knaves

  Is fill’d – once quaff’d, they ne’er repine:

  Our prophet might forgive the slaves;

  320

  They’re only infidels in wine.

  XVIII

  ‘What could I be? Proscribed at home,

  And taunted to a wish to roam;

  And listless left – for Giaffir’s fear

  Denied the courser and the spear –

  325

  Though oft – Oh, Mahomet! how oft! –

  In full Divan the despot scoff’d,

  As if my weak unwilling hand

  Refused the bridle or the brand:

  He ever went to war alone,

  330

  And pent me here untried – unknown;

  To Haroun’s care with women left,

  By hope unblest, of fame bereft,

  While thou – whose softness long endear’d,

  Though it unmann’d me, still had cheer’d –

  335

  To Brusa’s walls for safety sent,

  Awaited’st there the field’s event.

  Haroun, who saw my spirit pining

  Beneath inaction’s sluggish yoke,

  His captive, though with dread resigning,

  340

  My thraldom for a season broke,

  On promise to return before

  The day when Giaffir’s charge was o’er.

  ‘Tis vain – my tongue can not impart

  My almost drunkenness of heart,

  345

  When first this liberated eye

  Survey’d Earth, Ocean, Sun, and Sky,

  As if my spirit pierced them through,

  And all their inmost wonders knew!

  One word alone can paint to thee

  350

  That more than feeling – I was Free!

  E’en for thy presence ceased to pine;

  The World – nay, Heaven itself was mine!

  XIX

  ‘The shallop of a trusty Moor

  Convey’d me from this idle shore;

  355

  I long’d to see the isles that gem

  Old Ocean’s purple diadem:

  I sought by turns, and saw them all;1

  But when and where I join’d the crew,

  With whom I’m pledged to rise or fall,

  360

  When all that we design to do

  Is done, ’t will then be time more meet

  To tell thee, when the tale’s complete.

  XX

  ‘Tis true, they are a lawless brood,

  But rough in form, nor mild in mood;

  365

  And every creed, and every race,

  With them hath found – may find a place:

  But open speech, and ready hand,

  Obedience to their chief’s command;

  A soul for every enterprise,

/>   370

  That never sees with Terror’s eyes;

  Friendship for each, and faith to all,

  And vengeance vow’d for those who fall,

  Have made them fitting instruments

  For more than ev’n my own intents.

  375

  And some - and I have studied all

  Distinguish’d from the vulgar rank,

  But chiefly to my council call

  The wisdom of the cautious Frank –

  And some to higher thoughts aspire,

  380

  The last of Lambro’s1 patriots there

  Anticipated freedom share;

  And oft around the cavern fire

  On visionary schemes debate,

  To snatch the Rayahs2 from their fate.

  385

  So let them ease their hearts with prate

  Of equal rights, which man ne’er knew;

  I have a love for freedom too.

  Ay! let me like the ocean-Patriarch3 roam,

  Or only know on land the Tartar’s home!4

  390

  My tent on shore, my galley on the sea,

  Are more than cities and Serais to me:

  Borne by my steed, or wafted by my sail,

  Across the desert, or before the gale,

  Bound where thou wilt, my barb! or glide, my prow!

  395

  But be the star that guides the wanderer, Thou!

  Thou, my Zuleika, share and bless my bark;

  The Dove of peace and promise to mine ark!

  Or, since that hope denied in worlds of strife,

  Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life!

  400

  The evening beam that smiles the clouds away,

  And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray!

  Blest – as the Muezzin’s strain from Mecca’s wall

  To pilgrims pure and prostrate at his call;

  Soft – as the melody of youthful days,

  405

  That steals the trembling tear of speechless praise;

  Dear – as his native song to Exile’s ears,

  Shall sound each tone thy long-loved voice endears.

  For thee in those bright isles is built a bower

  Blooming as Aden1 in its earliest hour.

  410

  A thousand swords, with Selim’s heart and hand,

  Wait – wave – defend – destroy – at thy command!

  Girt by my band, Zuleika at my side,

  The spoil of nations shall bedeck my bride.

  The Haram’s languid years of listless ease

  415

  Are well resign’d for cares – for joys like these:

  Not blind to fate, I see, where’er I rove,

  Unnumbered perils, – but one only love!

  Yet well my toils shall that fond breast repay,

  Though fortune frown, or falser friends betray.

  420

  How dear the dream in darkest hours of ill,

  Should all be changed, to find thee faithful still!

  Be but thy soul, like Selim’s, firmly shown;

  To thee be Selim’s tender as thine own;

  To soothe each sorrow, share in each delight,

  425

  Blend every thought, do all – but disunite!

  Once free, ’tis mine our horde again to guide;

  Friends to each other, foes to aught beside:

  Yet there we follow but the bent assign’d

  By fatal Nature to man’s warring kind:

  430

  Mark! where his carnage and his conquests cease!

  He makes a solitude, and calls it – peace!

  I like the rest must use my skill or strength,

  But ask no land beyond my sabre’s length:

  Power sways but by division – her resource

  435

  The blest alternative of fraud or force!

  Ours be the last; in time deceit may come

  When cities cage us in a social home:

  There ev’n thy soul might err – how oft the heart

  Corruption shakes which peril could not part!

  440

  And woman, more than man, when death or woe,

  Or even Disgrace, would lay her lover low,

  Sunk in the lap of Luxury will shame –

  Away suspicion! – not Zuleika’s name!

  But life is hazard at the best; and here

  445

  No more remains to win, and much to fear:

  Yes, fear! – the doubt, the dread of losing thee,

  By Osman’s power, and Giaffir’s stern decree.

  That dread shall vanish with the favouring gale,

  Which love to-night hath promised to my sail:

  450

  No danger daunts the pair his smile hath blest,

  Their steps still roving, but their hearts at rest.

  With thee all toils are sweet, each clime hath charms;

  Earth – sea alike – our world within our arms!

  Ay – let the loud winds whistle o’er the deck,

  455

  So that those arms cling closer round my neck:

  The deepest murmur of this lip shall be

  No sigh for safety, but a prayer for thee!

  The war of elements no fears impart

  To Love, whose deadliest bane is human Art:

  460

  There lie the only rocks our course can check;

  Here moments menace – there are years of wreck!

  But hence ye thoughts that rise in Horror’s shape!

  This hour bestows, or ever bars escape.

  Few words remain of mine my tale to close:

  465

  Of thine but one to waft us from our foes;

  Yea – foes – to me will Giaffir’s hate decline?

  And is not Osman, who would part us, thine?

  XXI

  ‘His head and faith from doubt and death

  Return’d in time my guard to save;

  470

  Few heard, none told, that o’er the wave

  From isle to isle I roved the while:

  And since, though parted from my band,

  Too seldom now I leave the land,

  No deed they’ve done, nor deed shall do,

  475

  Ere I have heard and doom’d it too:

  I form the plan, decree the spoil,

  ‘Tis fit I oftener share the toil.

  But now too long I’ve held thine ear;

  Time presses, floats my bark, and here

  480

  We leave behind but hate and fear.

  Tomorrow Osman with his train

  Arrives – to-night must break thy chain:

  And would’st thou save that haughty Bey,

  Perchance, his life who gave thee thine,

  485

  With me, this hour away – away!

  But yet, though thou art plighted mine,

  Would’st thou recall thy willing vow,

  Appall’d by truths imparted now,

  Here rest I – not to see thee wed:

  490

  But be that peril on my head!’

  XXII

  Zuleika, mute and motionless,

  Stood like that statue of distress,

  When, her last hope for ever gone,

  The mother harden’d into stone;

  495

  All in the maid that eye could see

  Was but a younger Niobé.

  But ere her lip, or even her eye,

  Essay’d to speak, or look reply,

  Beneath the garden’s wicket porch

  500

  Far flash’d on high a blazing torch!

  Another – and another – and another –

  ‘Oh! fly – no more – yet now my more than brother!’

  Far, wide, through every thicket spread,

  The fearful lights are gleaming red;

  505

  Nor these alone – for each right
hand

  Is ready with a sheathless brand.

  They part, pursue, return, and wheel

  With searching flambeau, shining steel;

  And last of all, his sabre waving,

  510

  Stern Giaffir in his fury raving:

  And now almost they touch the cave –

  Oh! must that grot be Selim’s grave?

  XXIII

  Dauntless he stood – ‘ ’T is come – soon past –

  One kiss, Zuleika – ’tis my last:

  515

  But yet my band not far from shore

  May hear this signal, see the flash;

  Yet now too few – the attempt were rash:

  No matter – yet one effort more.’

  Forth to the cavern mouth he stept;

  520

  His pistol’s echo rang on high,

  Zuleika started not, nor wept,

  Despair benumb’d her breast and eye! –

  ‘They hear me not, or if they ply

  Their oars, ’t is but to see me die;

  525

  That sound hath drawn my foes more nigh.

  Then forth my father’s scimitar,

  Thou ne’er hast seen less equal war!

  Farewell, Zuleika! – Sweet! retire:

  Yet stay within – here linger safe,

  530

  At thee his rage will only chafe.

  Stir not – lest even to thee perchance

  Some erring blade or ball should glance.

  Fear’st thou for him? – may I expire

  If in this strife I seek thy sire!

  535

  No – though by him that poison pour’d:

  No – though again he call me coward!

  But tamely shall I meet their steel?

  No – as each crest save his may feel!’

  XXIV

  One bound he made, and gain’d the sand:

  540

  Already at his feet hath sunk

  The foremost of the prying band,

  A gasping head, a quivering trunk:

  Another falls – but round him close

  A swarming circle of his foes;

  545

  From right to left his path he cleft,

  And almost met the meeting wave:

  His boat appears – not five oars’ length –

  His comrades strain with desperate strength –

  Oh! are they yet in time to save?

  550

  His feet the foremost breakers lave;

  His band are plunging in the bay

  Their sabres glitter through the spray;

  Wet – wild – unwearied to the strand

  They struggle – now they touch the land!

  555

  They come – ’tis but to add to slaughter –

  His heart’s best blood is on the water.

  XXV

  Escaped from shot, unharm’d by steel,

  Or scarcely grazed its force to feel,

  Had Selim won, betray’d, beset,

  560

  To where the strand and billows met;

  There as his last step left the land,

  And the last death-blow dealt his hand –

  Ah! wherefore did he turn to look