'Twere long to tell, and sad to trace,
Each step from splendour to disgrace;
Enough-no foreign foe could quell
Thy soul, till from itself it fell;
Yes! self-abasement paved the way
To vilain-bonds and despot-sway.
The hero of the poem-the vengeful, maddened, Giaour-is thus in.
Who thundering comes on blackest steed,
With slackened bit and hoof of speed?
Beneath the clattering iron's sound
The caverned echoes wake around
In lash for lash, and bound for bound;
The foam that streaks the courser's side
Seems gathered from the ocean-tide:
Though weary waves are sunk to rest,
There's none within his rider's breast:
And, though to-morrow's tempest lower,
'Tis calmer than thy heart, young Giaour!
I know thee not, I loathe thy race,
But in thy lineaments I trace
What time shall strengthen, not efface:
Though young and pale, that sallow front
Is scathed by fiery passion's brunt ;
Though bent on earth thine evil eye,
As meteor-like thou glidest by,
Right well I view and deem thee one
Whom Othman's sons should slay or shun.
The manner of the death of the ill-fated Leila is supposed to be told by a mariner, whose boat was employed on the tragic occasion:
I hear the sound of coming feet,
But not a voice mine ear to reet;
More near-each turban I can scan,
And silver-sheathed ataghan;
The foremost of the band is seen,
An emir by his garb of green:
'Ho! who art thou ?-this low salam
Replies of Moslem faith I am.
The burden ye so gently bear,
Seems one that claims your utmost care,
And, doubtless, holds some precious freight,
My humble bark would gladly wait.'
Thou speakest sooth; thy skiff unmoor,
And waft us from the silent shore;
Nay, leave the sail still furled, and ply
The nearest oar that's scattered by,
And midway to those rocks where sleep
The channeled waters dark and deep.
Rest from your task-so-bravely done,
Our course has been right swiftly run;
Yet 'tis the longest voyage, I trow,
That one of'-
Sullen it plunged, and slowly sank;
The calm wave rippled to the bank :
I watched it as it sank; methought
Some motion, from the current caught,
Bestirred it more ;-'twas but the beam
That chequered o'er the living stream:
I gazed, till, vanishing from view,
Like lessening pebble it withdrew;
Still less and less, a speck of white
That gemmed the tide, then mocked the sight;
And all its hidden secrets sleep,
Known but to genii of the deep,
Which, trembling in their coral caves,
They dare not whisper to the waves.
There are passages of more force, and perhaps of greater originality, than the following; but there are none of greater beauty
As, rising on its purple wing,
The insect-queen of eastern spring
O'er emerald meadows of Kashmeer
Invites the young pursuer near,
And leads him on from flower to flower
A weary chase and wasted hour,
Then leaves him, as it soars on high,
With panting heart and tearful eye:
So Beauty lures the full-grown child,
With hue as bright, and wing as wild;
A chase of idle hopes and fears,
Begun in folly, closed in tears.
If won, to equal ills betrayed,
Woe waits the insect and the maid;
A life of pain, the loss of peace,
From infant's play and man's caprice :
The lovely toy, so fiercely sought,
Hath lost its charm by being caught;
For every touch that wooed its stay
Hath brushed its brightest hues away;
Till charm, and hue, and beauty, gone,
'Tis left to fly or fall alone!
With wounded wing, or bleeding breast,
Ah! where shall either victim rest?
Can this with faded pinion soar
From rose to tulip as before?
Or Beauty, blighted in an hour,
Find joy within her broken bower?
No: gayer insects, fluttering by,
Ne'er droop the wing o'er those that die;
And lovelier things have mercy shown
To every failing but their own;
And every woe a tear can claim
Except an erring sister's shame.
The description of Leila's beauty is more powerful than painting more fascinating than ever poet wrote before :
Her eye's dark charm 'twere vain to tell;
But gaze on that of the gazelle
It will assist thy fancy well:
As large, as languishingly dark,
But soul beamed forth in every spark
That darted from beneath the lid,
Bright as the jewel of Giamschid.
Yea, Soul; and, should our prophet say
That form was nought but breathing clay,
By Alla! I would answer Nay;
Though on Al-Sirat's arch I stood,
Which totters o'er the fiery flood,
With Paradise within my view,
And all his houris beckoning through.
Oh! who young Leila's glance could read,
And keep that portion of his creed
Which saith that woman is but dust,
A soulless toy for tyrant's lust?
On her might muftis gaze, and own
That through her eye th' Immortal shone;
On her fair cheek's unfading hue
The young pomegranate's blossoms strew
Their bloom in blushes ever new:
Her hair, in hyacinthine flow,
When left to roll its folds below,
As, midst her handmaids in the ball,
She stood superior to them all,
Hath swept the marble where her feet
Gleamed whiter than the mountain sleet
Ere, from the cloud that gave it birth,
It fell and caught one stain of earth.
The cygnet nobly walks the water;
So moved on earth Circassia's daughter,
The loveliest bird of Franguestan!
As rears her crest the ruffled swan,
And spurns the wave with wings of pride,
When pass the steps of stranger man
Along the banks that bound her tide;
Thus rose fair Leila's whiter neck :—
Thus, arm'd with beauty, would she check
Intrusion's glance, till Folly's gaze
Shrunk from the charms it meant to praise.
Thus high and graceful was her gait ;
Her heart as tender to her mate;
Her mate-stern Hassan, who was he?
Alas! that name was not for thee!
Hassan and his train have proceeded on their journey to that part where they think all the peril is passed; and, just as this opinion is exDressed by one of the party, a bullet whistling past his head, and strik
mg that of another, gives a gentle contradiction to the notion. Hassan keeps his horse, and his train prepare to defend themselves. Soon the assailants appear, and the Giaour's sword does justice on his Leila's ruthless murderer. The conflict is thus related:
In fuller sight, more near and near,
The lately ambushed foes appear,
And, issuing from the grove, advance
Some who on battle-charger prance.
Who leads them on with foreign brand,
Far flashing in his red right hand ?
"Tis he! tis he! I know him now;
I know him by his pallid brow;
I know him by the evil eye
That aids his envious treachery;
I know him by his jet-black barb :
Though now arrayed in Arnaut garb,
Apostate from his own vile faith,
It shall not save him from the death:
'Tis he! well met in any hour,
Lost Leila's love, accursed Giaour!'
As rolls the river into ocean,
In sable torrent wildly streaming;
As the sea-tide's opposing motion,
In azure column proudly gleaming,
Beats back the current many a rood,
In curling foam and mingling flood,
While eddying whirl, aud breaking wave,
Roused by the blast of winter, rave;
Through sparkling spray, in thundering clash,
The lightnings of the waters flash
In awful whiteness o'er the shore,
That shines and shakes beneath the roar;
Thus as the stream and ocean greet,
With waves that madden as they meet-
Thus join the bands, whom mutual wrong,
And fate, and fury, drive along.
The bickering sabres' shivering jar—
And, pealing wide or ringing near
Its echoes on the throbbing ear,
The deathshot hissing from afar-
The shock, the shout, the groan of war
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