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And mounting featly for the mead,
With Maugrabce and Mamaluke,
His way amid his Delis took, 2
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 3 With sabre stroke right sharply dealt; Nor mark'd the javelin-darting crowd, Nor heard their Ollahs wild and loudHe 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;
Not 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 5 perfume,
And sprinkled all its odours o'er
The pictured roof6 and marble floor:

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mouth-piece, and sometimes the ball which contains the leaf is adorned with precious stones, if in possession of the wealthier orders.

"Maugrabee," Moorish mercenaries.

2 "Delis," bravos who form the forlorn hope of the cavalry, and always begin the action.

3 A twisted fold of felt is used for scimitar practice by the Turks, and few but Mussulman arms can cut through it at a single stroke: sometimes a tough turban is used for the same purpose. The jerrced is a game of blunt javelins, animated and graceful.

4" Ollahs," Alla il Allah, the "Leilies," as the Spanish poets call them, the sound is Ollah; a cry of which the Turks, for a silent people, are somewhat profuse, particularly during the jerrced, or in the chase, but mostly in battle. Their ani

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 7 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 weil 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:
Even Azrael 8, 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;

mation in the field, and gravity in the chamber, with their pipes and comboloios, form an amusing contrast.

"Atar-gul," ottar of roses. The Persian is the finest.

6 The ceiling and wainscots, or rather walls, of the Mussul. man apartments are generally painted, in great houses, with one eternal and highly coloured view of Constantinople, wherein the principal feature is a noble contempt of perspective; below, arms, scimitars, &c. are in general fancifully and not inelegantly disposed.

7 It has been much doubted whether the notes of this "Lover of the rose" are sad or merry; and Mr. Fox's remarks on the subject have provoked some learned controversy as to the opinions of the ancients on the subject. I dare not venture à conjecture on the point, though a little inclined to the "errare mallem," &c. if Mr. Fox was mistaken.

8 แ Azrael," the angel of death.

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:
"Now thou art mine, for ever mine,

With life to keep, and scarce with life resign;
Now thou art mine, that sacred oath,
Though sworn by one, hath bound us both.
Yes, fondly, wisely hast thou done;

That vow hath saved more heads than one :
But blench not thou- thy simplest tress
Claims more from me than tenderness;
I would not wrong the slenderest hair
That clusters round thy forehead fair,
For all the treasures buried far
Within the caves of Istakar.1
This morning clouds upon me lower'd,
Reproaches on my head were shower'd,
And Giaffir almost call'd me coward!
Now I have motive to be brave;
The son of his neglected slave,
Nay, start not, 't was the term he gave,
May show, though little apt to vaunt,
A heart his words nor deeds can daunt.
His son, indeed! - yet, thanks to thee,
Perchance I am, at least shall be;
But let our plighted secret vow
Be only known to us as now.

I know the wretch who dares demand
From Giaffir thy reluctant hand;
More ill-got wealth, a meaner soul
Holds not a Musselim's 2 control:
Was he not bred in Egripo? 3
A viler race let Israel show;

But let that pass-to none be told

Our oath; the rest shall time unfold.

To me and mire leave Osman Bey;

I've partisans for peril's day:

Think not I am what I appear;

I've arms, and friends, and vengeance near.'


"Think not thou art what thou appearest !
My Selim, thou art sadly changed:
This morn I saw thee gentlest, dearest ;
But now thou 'rt from thyself estranged
My love thou surely knew'st before,
It ne'er was less, nor can be more.
To see thee, hear thee, near thee stay,
And hate the night I know not why,
Save that we meet not but by day;
With thee to live, with thee to die,
I dare not to my hope deny :
Thy cheek, thine eyes, thy lips to kiss,
Like this and this no more than this;

For, Alla! sure thy lips are flame :

What fever in thy veins is flushing?


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My own have nearly caught the same,
At least I feel my cheek too blushing.
To soothe thy sickness, watch thy health,
Partake, but never waste thy wealth,
Or stand with smiles unmurmuring by,
And lighten half thy poverty;
Do all but close thy dying eye,
For that I could not live to try;
To these alone my thoughts aspire:
More can I do? or thou require ?
But, Selim, thou must answer why
We need so much of mystery?
The cause I cannot dream nor tell,
But be it, since thou say'st 't is well;
Yet what thou mean'st by arms' and 'friends,'
Beyond my weaker sense extends.

I meant that Giaffir should have heard
The very vow I plighted thee;
His wrath would not revoke my word:
But surely he would leave me free.
Can this fond wish seem strange in me,
To be what I have ever been?
What other hath Zuleika seen
From simple childhood's earliest hour?
What other can she seek to see
Than thee, companion of her bower,
The partner of her infancy?
These cherish'd thoughts, with life begun,
Say, why must I no more avow?
What change is wrought to make me shun
The truth; my pride, and thine till now?
To meet the gaze of stranger's eyes
Our law, our creed, our God denies;
Nor shall one wandering thought of mine
At such, our Prophet's will, repine :
No happier made by that decree!

He left me all in leaving thee.
Deep were my anguish, thus compell'd
To wed with one I ne'er beheld:
This wherefore should I not reveal?
Why wilt thou urge me to conceal ?
I know the Pacha's haughty mood
To thee hath never boded good;
And he so often storms at nought,
Allah forbid that e'er he ought!
And why I know not, but within
My heart concealment weighs like sin.
If then such secrecy be crime,

And such it feels while lurking here;
Oh, Selim tell me yet in time,

Nor leave me thus to thoughts of fear.
Ah! yonder see the Tchocadar +,
My father leaves the mimic war;

I tremble now to meet his eye-
Say, Selim, canst thou tell me why?'


"Zuleika - to thy tower's retreat
Betake thee - Giaffir I can greet:
And now with him I fain must prate

Of firmans, impost, levies, state.
There's fearful news from Danube's banks,
Our Vizier nobly thins his ranks,

For which the Giaour may give him thanks!

3 Egripo," the Negropont. According to the proverb, the Turks of Egripo, the Jews of Salonica, and the Greeks of Athens, are the worst of their respective races.

Tchocadar "one of the attendants who precedes a man of authority.


Our Sultan hath a shorter way Such costly triumph to repay.

But, mark me, when the twilight drum
Hath warn'd the troops to food and sleep,
Unto thy cell will Selim come:

Then softly from the Haram creep
Where we may wander by the deep :
Our garden-battlements are steep;
Nor these will rash intruder climb
To list our words, or stint our time;
And if he doth, I want not steel

Which some have felt, and more may feel.
Then shalt thou learn of Selim more
Than thou hast heard or thought before:
Trust me, Zuleika fear not me !

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THE winds are high on Helle's wave,
As on that night of stormy water
When Love, who sent, forgot to save
The young, the beautiful, the brave,

The lonely hope of Sestos' daughter.
Oh I when alone along the sky
Her turret-torch was blazing high,
Though rising gale, and breaking foam,

And shrieking sea-birds warn'd him home;
And clouds aloft and tides below,

With signs and sounds, forbade to go,

He could not see, he would not hear,

Or sound or sign foreboding fear;
His eye but saw that light of love,

The only star it hail'd above;

His ear but rang with Hero's song,
"Ye waves, divide not lovers long!".
That tale is old, but love anew

May nerve young hearts to prove as true.

1 The wrangling about this epithet, "the broad Hellespont" or the "boundless Hellespont," whether it means one or the other, or what it means at all, has been beyond all possibility of detail. I have even heard it disputed on the spot; and not foreseeing a speedy conclusion to the controversy, amused myself with swimming across it in the mean time; and probably may again, before the point is settled. Indeed, the question as to the truth of "the tale of Troy divine still continues, much of it resting upon the talismanic word augos:" probably Homer had the same notion of distance that a coquette has of time; and when he talks of boundless, means half a mile; as the latter, by a like figure, when she says eternal attachment, simply specifies three weeks.

2 Before his Persian invasion, and crowned the altar with laurel, &c. He was afterwards imitated by Caracalla in his


The winds are high, and Helle's tide Rolls darkly heaving to the main ; And Night's descending shadows hide That field with blood bedew'd in vain, The desert of old Priam's pride;

The tombs, sole relics of his reign, All -save immortal dreams that could beguile The blind old man of Scio's rocky isle!


Oh! yet-for there my steps have been;
These feet have press'd the sacred shore,
These limbs that buoyant wave hath borne
Minstrel with thee to muse, to mourn,

To trace again those fields of yore,
Believing every hillock green

Contains no fabled hero's ashes, And that around the undoubted scene

Thine own "broad Hellespont" still dashes,

Be long my lot! and cold were he
Who there could gaze denying thee!


The night hath closed on Helle's stream,
Nor yet hath risen on Ida's hill
That moon, which shone on his high theme :
No warrior chides her peaceful beam,

But conscious shepherds bless it still.
Their flocks are grazing on the mound

Of him who felt the Dardan's arrow : That mighty heap of gather'd ground Which Ammon's son ran proudly round, 2 By nations raised, by monarchs crown'd, Is now a lone and nameless barrow ! Within - thy dwelling-place how narrow ! Without - can only strangers breathe The name of him that was beneath : Dust long outlasts the storied stone; But Thou- thy very dust is gone!


Late, late to-night will Dian cheer
The swain, and chase the boatman's fear:
Till then-no beacon on the cliff
May shape the course of struggling skiff;
The scatter'd lights that skirt the bay,
All, one by one, have died away;

The only lamp of this lone hour

Is glimmering in Zuleika's tower.

Yes there is light in that lone chamber,

And o'er her silken Ottoman

Are thrown the fragment beads of amber, O'er which her fairy fingers ran; 9

race. It is believed that the last also poisoned a friend, narned Festus, for the sake of new Patroclan games. I have seen the sheep feeding on the tombs of Esietes and Antilochus: the first is in the centre of the plain.

3 When rubbed, the amber is susceptible of a perfume, which is slight but not disagreeable. [On discovering that, in some of the early copies, the all-importaut monosyllable "not" had been omitted, Lord Byron wrote to Mr. Murray, -"There is a diabolical mistake which must be corrected; it is the omission of 'not' before disagreeable, in the note on the amber rosary. This is really horrible, and nearly as bad as the stumble of mine at the threshold- I mean the misnomer of Bride. Pray do not let a copy go without the 'not :' it is nonsense, and worse than nonsense. I wish the printer was saddled with a vampire."]

Near these, with emerald rays beset,
(How could she thus that gem forget?)
Her mother's sainted amulet, 1
Whereon engraved the Koorsee text,

Could smooth this life, and win the next;
And by her comboloio 2 lies

A Koran of illumined dyes;

And many a bright emblazon'd rhyme
By Persian scribes redeem'd from time;
And o'er those scrolls, not oft so mute,
Reclines her now neglected lute;
And round her lamp of fretted gold
Bloom flowers in urns of China's mould;
The richest work of Iran's loom,
And Sheeraz' tribute of perfume;
All that can eye or sense delight

Are gather'd in that gorgeous room:
But yet it hath an air of gloom.

She, of this Peri cell the sprite,

What doth she hence, and on so rude a night?


Wrapt in the darkest sable vest,

Which none save noblest Moslem wear, To guard from winds of heaven the breast As heaven itself to Selim dear, With cautious steps the thicket threading, And starting oft, as through the glade The gust its hollow moanings made, Till on the smoother pathway treading, More free her timid bosom beat,

The maid pursued her silent guide; And though her terror urged retreat, How could she quit her Selim's side? How teach her tender lips to chide?


They reach'd at length a grotto, hewn
By nature, but enlarged by art,
Where oft her lute she wont to tune,
And oft her Koran conn'd apart;
And oft in youthful reverie
She dream'd what Paradise might be :
Where woman's parted soul shall go
Her Prophet had disdain'd to show;
But Selim's mansion was secure,
Nor deem'd she, could he long endure
His bower in other worlds of bliss,
Without her, most beloved in this!
Oh! who so dear with him could dwell?
What Houri soothe him half so well?


Since last she visited the spot

Some change seem'd wrought within the grot :
It might be only that the night
Disguised things seen by better light:
That brazen lamp but dimly threw

A ray of no celestial hue;

! The belief in amulets engraved on gems, or enclosed in gold boxes, containing scraps from the Koran, worn round the neck, wrist, or arm, is still universal in the East. The Koorsee (throne) verse in the second cap. of the Koran describes the attributes of the Most High, and is engraved in this manner, and worn by the pious, as the most esteemed and sublime of all sentences.

↑ "Comboloio "— a Turkish rosary. The MSS., particularly those of the Persians, are richly adorned and illuminated. The Greek females are kept in utter ignorance; but many of the Turkish girls are highly accomplished, though not actually

But in a nook within the cell
Her eye on stranger objects fell.
There arms were piled, not such as wield
The turban'd Delis in the field;

But brands of foreign blade and hilt,
And one was red-perchance with guilt!
Ah! how without can blood be spilt?
A cup too on the board was set
That did not seem to hold sherbet.
What may this mean? she turn'd to sce
Her Selim-"Oh! can this be he?"


His robe of pride was thrown aside,

His brow no high-crown'd turban bore,

But in its stead a shawl of red,

Wreathed lightly round, his temples wore :
That dagger, on whose hilt the gem
Were worthy of a diadem,

No longer glitter'd at his waist,
Where pistols unadorn'd were braced;
And from his belt a sabre swung,
And from his shoulder loosely hung
The cloak of white, the thin capote
That decks the wandering Candiote:
Beneath his golden plated vest
Clung like a cuirass to his breast;

The greaves below his knee that wound
With silvery scales were sheathed and bound.
But were it not that high command
Spake in his eye, and tone, and hand,
All that a careless eye could see
In him was some young Galiongée.3


"I said I was not what I seem'd ;

And now thou see'st my words were true :
I have a tale thou hast not dream'd,
If sooth-its truth must others rue.
My story now 't were vain to hide,

I must not see thee Osman's bride :
But had not thine own lips declared
How much of that young heart I shared,
could not, must not, yet have shown
The darker secret of my own.
In this I speak not now of love;
That, let time, truth, and peril prove :
But first-Oh! never wed another
Zuleika ! I am not thy brother!"



"Oh! not my brother!-yet unsayGod! am I left alone on earth

To mourn-I dare not curse-the day+
That saw my solitary birth?

Oh! thou wilt love me now no more!
My sinking heart foreboded ill;
But know me all I was before,

qualified for a Christian coterie. Perhaps some of our own blues" might not be worse for bleaching.

3" Galiongée "—or Galiongi, a sailor, that is, a Turkish sailor; the Greeks navigate, the Turks work the guns. Their dress is picturesque; and I have seen the Capitan Pacha more than once wearing it as a kind of incog. Their legs, however, are generally naked. The buskins described in the text as sheathed behind with silver are those of an Arnaut robber, who was my host (he had quitted the profession) at his Pyrgo, near Gastouni in the Morea; they were plated in scales one over the other, like the back of an armadillo.

["To curse - if I could curse- the day."- MS.]

Thy sister-friend- Zuleika still. Thou led'st me here perchance to kill; If thou hast cause for vengeance, see! My breast is offer'd-take thy fill ! Far better with the dead to be Than live thus nothing now to thee: Perhaps far worse, for now I know Why Giaffir always seem'd thy foc; And I, alas! am Giaffir's child,

For whom thou wert contemn'd, reviled. If not thy sister—would'st thou save My life, oh! bid me be thy slave!"


"My slave, Zuleika !— nay, I'm thine : But, gentle love, this transport calm, Thy lot shall yet be link'd with mine; I swear it by our Prophet's shrine,

And be that thought thy sorrow's balm.

So may the Koran verse display'd
Upon its steel direct my blade,

In danger's hour to guard us both,
As I preserve that awful oath !

The name in which thy heart hath prided
Must change; but, my Zuleika, know,
That tie is widen'd, not divided,

Although thy Sire's my deadliest foe.
My father was to Giaffir all

That Selim late was deem'd to thee;
That brother wrought a brother's fall,
But spared, at least, my infancy;
And lull'd me with a vain deceit
That yet a like return may meet.
He rear'd me, not with tender help,
But like the nephew of a Cain; 2
He watch'd me like a lion's whelp,

That gnaws and yet may break his chain.
My father's blood in every vein

Is boiling; but for thy dear sake
No present vengeance will I take;

Though here I must no more remain.
But first, beloved Zuleika! hear
How Giaffir wrought this deed of fear.


"How first their strife to rancour grew, If love or envy made them foes,

It matters little if I knew ;

In fiery spirits, slights, though few

And thoughtless, will disturb repose. In war Abdallah's arm was strong, Remember'd yet in Bosniac song,

1 The characters on all Turkish scimitars contain sometimes the name of the place of their manufacture, but more generally a text from the Koran, in letters of gold. Amongst those in my possession is one with a blade of singular construction; it is very broad, and the edge notched into serpentine curves like the ripple of water, or the wavering of flame. I asked the Armenian who sold it, what possible use such a figure could add: he said, in Italian, that he did not know; but the Mussulmans had an idea that those of this form gave a severer wound; and liked it because it was "piu feroce." I did not much admire the reason, but bought it for its peculiarity.

2 It is to be observed, that every allusion to any thing or personage in the Old Testament, such as the Ark, or Cain, is equally the privilege of Mussulman and Jew: indeed, the former profess to be much better acquainted with the lives, true and fabulous, of the patriarchs, than is warranted by our own sacred writ; and not content with Adam, they have a biography of Pre-Adamites. Solomon is the monarch of all necromancy, and Moses a prophet inforior only to Christ and

And Paswan's3 rebel hordes attest How little love they bore such guest His death is all I need relate,

The stern effect of Giaffir's hate;

And how my birth disclosed to me,

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


"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;
Nor last nor least in high command,
Each brother led a separate band;
They gave their horsetails to the wind,
And mustering in Sophia's plain
Their tents were pitch'd, their post assign'd;
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. 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; He drank one draught, nor needed more! If thou my tale, Zulieka, doubt, Call Haroun - he can tell it out.


"The deed once done, and Paswan's feud
In part suppress'd, though ne'er subdued,
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;
'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 ! -
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

By him whom Heaven accorded none,
Or some unknown cabal, caprice,

Preserved me thus ; but not in peace :

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Mahomet. Zuleika is the Persian name of Potiphar's wife; and her amour with Joseph constitutes one of the finest poems in their language. It is, therefore, no violation of costume to put the names of Cain, or Noah, into the mouth of a Moslem.

[Some doubt having been expressed by Mr. Murray, as to the propriety of putting the name of Cain into the mouth of a Mussulman, Lord Byron sent him the preceding note"for the benefit of the ignorant." "I don't care one lump of sugar," he says, "for my poetry; but for my costume, and my correctness on those points, I will combat lustily."]

3 Paswan Ogiou, the rebel of Widin; who, for the last years of his life, set the whole power of the Porte at defiance. 4"Horse-tail," the standard of a Pacha.

5 Giaffir, Pacha of Argyro Castro, or Scutari, I am not sure which, was actually taken off by the Albanian Ali, in the manner described in the text. Ali Pacha, while I was in the country, married the daughter of his victim, some years after the event had taken place at a bath in Sophia, or Adrianople. The poison was mixed in the cup of coffee, which is presented before the sherbet by the bath-keeper, after dressing.

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