'Twas hardly midnight when that fray begun,
For Conrad's plans matured, at once were done;
And Havoc loathes so much the waste of time,
She scarce had left an uncommitted crime.
One hour beheld him since the tide he stemm'd-
Disguised-discover'd-conquering-ta'en-con-

demn'd

A chief on land-an outlaw on the deep-
Destroying-saving-prison'd-and asleep!

XII.

He slept in calmest seeming-for his breath
Was hush'd so deep-Ah! happy if in death!
He slept Who o'er his placid slumber bends?
His foes are gone-and here he hath no friends;
Is it some seraph sent to grant him grace?
No, 'tis an earthly form with heavenly face!
Its white arm raised a lamp-yet gently hid,
Lest the ray flash abruptly on the lid

Of that closed eye, which opens but to pain,
And once unclosed-but once may close again.
That form, with eye so dark, and cheek so fair,
And auburn waves of gemm'd and braided hair;
With shape of fairy lightness-naked foot,

That shines like snow, and falls on earth as mute

Through guards and dunnest night how came it there?
Ah! rather ask what will not woman dare?
Whom youth and pity lead like thee, Gulnare!
She could not sleep-and while the Pacha's rest
In muttering dreams yet saw his pirate-guest,
She left his side-his signet-ring she bore,
Which oft in sport adorn'd her hand before—
And with it, scarcely question'd, won her way
Through drowsy guards that must that sign obey.
Worn out with toil, and tired with changing blows,
Their eyes had envied Conrad his repose;

And chill and nodding at the turret door,

They stretch their listless limbs, and watch no more:
Just raised their heads to hail the signet-ring,
Nor ask or what or who the sign may bring.

XIII.

She gazed in wonder," Can he calmly sleep, "While other eyes his fall or ravage weep? "And mine in restlessness are wandering here— "What sudden spell hath made this man so dear? "True-'tis to him my life, and more, I owe, "And me and mine he spared from worse than woe: ""Tis late to think-but soft-his slumber breaks"How heavily he sighs!—he starts—awakes!”

"WHAT IS THAT FORM? IF NOT A SHAPE OF AIR,
METHINKS, MY JAILOR'S FACE SHOW'S WONDROUS FAIR!"

Canto 2. Line 1042

JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, DEC.1.1819.