Within the Haram's secret chamber sate[230]

Stern Seyd, still pondering o'er his Captive's fate; 1300

His thoughts on love and hate alternate dwell,

Now with Gulnare, and now in Conrad's cell;

Here at his feet the lovely slave reclined

Surveys his brow—would soothe his gloom of mind;

While many an anxious glance her large dark eye

Sends in its idle search for sympathy,

His only bends in seeming o'er his beads,[231]

But inly views his victim as he bleeds.

"Pacha! the day is thine; and on thy crest

Sits Triumph—Conrad taken—fall'n the rest! 1310

His doom is fixed—he dies; and well his fate

Was earned—yet much too worthless for thy hate:

Methinks, a short release, for ransom told[hy]

With all his treasure, not unwisely sold;

Report speaks largely of his pirate-hoard—

Would that of this my Pacha were the lord!

While baffled, weakened by this fatal fray—

Watched—followed—he were then an easier prey;

But once cut off—the remnant of his band

Embark their wealth, and seek a safer strand." 1320

"Gulnare!—if for each drop of blood a gem

Where offered rich as Stamboul's diadem;

If for each hair of his a massy mine

Of virgin ore should supplicating shine;

If all our Arab tales divulge or dream

Of wealth were here—that gold should not redeem!

It had not now redeemed a single hour,

But that I know him fettered, in my power;

And, thirsting for revenge, I ponder still

On pangs that longest rack—and latest kill." 1330

"Nay, Seyd! I seek not to restrain thy rage,

Too justly moved for Mercy to assuage;

My thoughts were only to secure for thee

His riches—thus released, he were not free:

Disabled—shorn of half his might and band,

His capture could but wait thy first command."

"His capture could!—and shall I then resign

One day to him—the wretch already mine?

Release my foe!—at whose remonstrance?—thine!

Fair suitor!—to thy virtuous gratitude, 1340

That thus repays this Giaour's relenting mood,

Which thee and thine alone of all could spare—

No doubt, regardless—if the prize were fair—

My thanks and praise alike are due—now hear!

I have a counsel for thy gentler ear:

I do mistrust thee, Woman! and each word

Of thine stamps truth on all Suspicion heard.[hz]

Borne in his arms through fire from yon Serai—

Say, wert thou lingering there with him to fly?

Thou need'st not answer—thy confession speaks, 1350

Already reddening on thy guilty cheeks:

Then—lovely Dame—bethink thee! and beware:

'Tis not his life alone may claim such care!

Another word and—nay—I need no more.

Accursed was the moment when he bore

Thee from the flames, which better far—but no—

I then had mourned thee with a lover's woe—

Now 'tis thy lord that warns—deceitful thing!

Know'st thou that I can clip thy wanton wing?

In words alone I am not wont to chafe: 1360

Look to thyself—nor deem thy falsehood safe!"

He rose—and slowly, sternly thence withdrew,

Rage in his eye, and threats in his adieu:

Ah! little recked that Chief of womanhood—

Which frowns ne'er quelled, nor menaces subdued;

And little deemed he what thy heart, Gulnare!

When soft could feel—and when incensed could dare!

His doubts appeared to wrong—nor yet she knew

How deep the root from whence Compassion grew—

She was a slave—from such may captives claim 1370

A fellow-feeling, differing but in name;

Still half unconscious—heedless of his wrath,

Again she ventured on the dangerous path,

Again his rage repelled—until arose

That strife of thought, the source of Woman's woes!