'Tis morn—to venture on his lonely hour

Few dare; though now Anselmo sought his tower.

He was not there, nor seen along the shore;

Ere night, alarmed, their isle is traversed o'er:

Another morn—another bids them seek, 1850

And shout his name till Echo waxeth weak;

Mount—grotto—cavern—valley searched in vain,

They find on shore a sea-boat's broken chain:

Their hope revives—they follow o'er the main.

'Tis idle all—moons roll on moons away,

And Conrad comes not, came not since that day:

Nor trace nor tidings of his doom declare

Where lives his grief, or perished his despair!

Long mourned his band whom none could mourn beside;

And fair the monument they gave his Bride: 1860

For him they raise not the recording stone—

His death yet dubious, deeds too widely known;

He left a Corsair's name to other times,

Linked with one virtue, and a thousand crimes.[239]