Canto II: Ge XX

"The shallop of a trusty MoorConveyed me from this idle shore;I longed to see the isles that gemOld Ocean's purple diadem:I sought by turns, and saw them all;But when and where I joined the crew,With whom I'm pledged to rise or fall,When all that we design to doIs done,'twill then be time more meetTo tell thee, when the tale's complete.

"'Tis true, they are a lawless brood,But rough in form, nor mild in mood;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,That never sees with Terror's eyes;Friendship for each, and faith to all,And vengeance vowed for those who fall,Have made them fitting instrumentsFor more than e'en my own intents.And some--and I have studied allDistinguished from the vulgar rank,But chiefly to my council callThe wisdom of the cautious Frank:--And some to higher thoughts aspire.The last of Lambro's patriots thereAnticipated freedom share;And oft around the cavern fireOn visionary schemes debate,To snatch the Rayahs from their fate.So let them ease their hearts with prateOf equal rights, which man ne'er knew;I have a love for freedom too.Aye! let me like the ocean-Patriarch roam,Or only know on land the Tartar's home!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!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!The evening beam that smiles the clouds away,And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray!Blest--as the Muezzin's strain from Mecca's wallTo pilgrims pure and prostrate at his call;Soft--as the melody of youthful days,That steals the trembling tear of speechless praise;Dear--as his native song to Exile's ears,grShall sound each tone thy long-loved voice endears.For thee in those bright isles is built a bowerBlooming as Aden in its earliest hour.A thousand swords, with Selim's heart and hand,Wait--wave--defend--destroy--at thy command!gsGirt by my band, Zuleika at my side,The spoil of nations shall bedeck my bride.The Haram's languid years of listless easeAre well resigned 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.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,gtBlend 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 assignedBy fatal Nature to man's warring kind:guMark! where his carnage and his conquests cease!He makes a solitude, and calls it--peace!gvI like the rest must use my skill or strength,But ask no land beyond my sabre's length:Power sways but by division--her resourcegwThe blest alternative of fraud or force!Ours be the last; in time Deceit may comeWhen cities cage us in a social home:There ev'n thy soul might err--how oft the heartCorruption shakes which Peril could not part!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 hereNo 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:gxNo 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!Aye--let the loud winds whistle o'er the deck,So that those arms cling closer round my neck:The deepest murmur of this lip shall be,gyNo sigh for safety, but a prayer for thee!The war of elements no fears impartTo Love, whose deadliest bane is human Art: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.gzFew words remain of mine my tale to close;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?