She looked and saw the heaving of the main; The white sail set she dared not look again, But turned with sickening soul within the gate"It is no dream and I am desolate!" XVI. From crag to crag descending -swiftly sped And she the dim and melancholy star, Whose ray of beauty reached him from afar, On her he must not gaze, he must not think, There he might rest- but on Destruction's brink: Yet once almost he stopped and nearly gave His fate to chance, his projects to the wave; But no- it must not be a worthy chief May melt, but not betray to woman's grief. 520 He sees his bark, he notes how fair the wind, And sternly gathers all his might of mind: } The busy sounds, the bustle of the shore, And other's gifts shewed mean beside his word, 550 When echoed to the heart as from his own His deep yet tender melody of tone: But such was foreign to his wonted mood, Him value less who loved than what obeyed. XVII. Around him mustering ranged his ready guard. Before him Juan stands — “Are all prepared?” “They are— nay more — embarked: the latest boat "Waits but my chief —” "My sword, and my capote." 560 Soon firmly girded on, and lightly slung, His belt and cloak were o'er his shoulders flang; “Call Pedro here!" He comes—and Conrad bends, With all the courtesy he deigned his friends; “Receive these tablets, and peruse with care, "Words of high trust and truth are graven there; "Double the guard, and when Anselmo's bark "Arrives, let him alike these orders mark: "In three days (serve the breeze) the sun shall shine “On our return―till then all peace be thine!” 570 This said, his brother Pirate's hand he wrung, 2 Then to his boat with haughty gesture sprung. Flashed the dipt oars, and sparkling with the stroke, Around the waves' phosphoric brightness broke; They gain the vessel on the deck he stands; Shrieks the shrill whistle -- ply the busy handsHe marks how well the ship her helm obeys, How gallant all her crew and deigns to praise. His eyes of pride to young Gonsalvo turn Why doth he start, and inly seem to mourn? 580 Alas! those eyes beheld his rocky tower, And live a moment o'er the parting hour; She his Medora did she mark the prow? Ah! never loved he half so inuch as now! But much must yet be done ere dawn of day And soon the night-glass through the narrow bay Discovers where the Pacha's galleys lay. Count they each sail and mark how there supine The lights in vain o'er heedless Moslem shine. Goo Secure, unnoted, Conrad's prow passed by, And anchored where his ambush meant to lic; Screened from espial by the jutting cape, That rears on high its rude fantastic shape. Then rose his band to duty not from sleep Equipped for deeds alike on land or deep; While leaned their leader o'er the fretting flood, And calmly talked and yet he talked of blood! END OF CANTO I. |