Him Juan sought, and told of their intent;—

He spake not, but a sign expressed assent, 140

These Juan calls—they come—to their salute

He bends him slightly, but his lips are mute.

"These letters, Chief, are from the Greek—the spy,

Who still proclaims our spoil or peril nigh:

Whate'er his tidings, we can well report,

Much that"—"Peace, peace!"—he cuts their prating short.

Wondering they turn, abashed, while each to each

Conjecture whispers in his muttering speech:

They watch his glance with many a stealing look,

To gather how that eye the tidings took; 150

But, this as if he guessed, with head aside,

Perchance from some emotion, doubt, or pride,

He read the scroll—"My tablets, Juan, hark—

Where is Gonsalvo?"

"In the anchored bark."

"There let him stay—to him this order bear—

Back to your duty—for my course prepare:

Myself this enterprise to-night will share."

"To-night, Lord Conrad?"

"Aye! at set of sun:

The breeze will freshen when the day is done.

My corslet—cloak—one hour and we are gone. 160

Sling on thy bugle—see that free from rust

My carbine-lock springs worthy of my trust;

Be the edge sharpened of my boarding-brand,

And give its guard more room to fit my hand.

This let the Armourer with speed dispose;

Last time, it more fatigued my arm than foes;

Mark that the signal-gun be duly fired,

To tell us when the hour of stay's expired."