IV.

"Whence com'st thou, Dervise?" "From the Outlaw's den A fugitive--" "Thy capture where and when?" "From Scalanova's port[212] to Scio's isle, The Saick[213] was bound; but Allah did not smile Upon our course--the Moslem merchant's gains The Rovers won; our limbs have worn their chains. I had no death to fear, nor wealth to boast, Beyond the wandering freedom which I lost; At length a fisher's humble boat by night Afforded hope, and offered chance of flight; 680 I seized the hour, and find my safety here-- With thee--most mighty Pacha! who can fear?"

"How speed the outlaws? stand they well prepared, Their plundered wealth, and robber's rock, to guard? Dream they of this our preparation, doomed To view with fire their scorpion nest consumed?"

"Pacha! the fettered captive's mourning eye, That weeps for flight, but ill can play the spy; I only heard the reckless waters roar, Those waves that would not bear me from the shore; 690 I only marked the glorious Sun and sky, Too bright--too blue--for my captivity; And felt that all which Freedom's bosom cheers Must break my chain before it dried my tears. This mayst thou judge, at least, from my escape, They little deem of aught in Peril's shape; Else vainly had I prayed or sought the Chance That leads me here--if eyed with vigilance: The careless guard that did not see me fly, May watch as idly when thy power is nigh. 700 Pacha! my limbs are faint--and nature craves Food for my hunger, rest from tossing waves: Permit my absence--peace be with thee! Peace With all around!--now grant repose--release."

"Stay, Dervise! I have more to question--stay, I do command thee--sit--dost hear?--obey! More I must ask, and food the slaves shall bring; Thou shall not pine where all are banqueting: The supper done--prepare thee to reply, Clearly and full--I love not mystery." 710 'Twere vain to guess what shook the pious man, Who looked not lovingly on that Divan; Nor showed high relish for the banquet prest, And less respect for every fellow guest. Twas but a moment's peevish hectic passed Along his cheek, and tranquillised as fast: He sate him down in silence, and his look Resumed the calmness which before forsook: The feast was ushered in--but sumptuous fare He shunned as if some poison mingled there. 720 For one so long condemned to toil and fast, Methinks he strangely spares the rich repast. "What ails thee, Dervise? eat--dost thou suppose This feast a Christian's? or my friends thy foes? Why dost thou shun the salt? that sacred pledge,[214] Which, once partaken, blunts the sabre's edge, Makes even contending tribes in peace unite, And hated hosts seem brethren to the sight!"

"Salt seasons dainties--and my food is still The humblest root, my drink the simplest rill; 730 And my stern vow and Order's[215] laws oppose To break or mingle bread with friends or foes; It may seem strange--if there be aught to dread That peril rests upon my single head; But for thy sway--nay more--thy Sultan's throne, I taste nor bread nor banquet--save alone; Infringed our Order's rule, the Prophet's rage To Mecca's dome might bar my pilgrimage."

"Well--as thou wilt--ascetic as thou art-- One question answer; then in peace depart. 740 How many?--Ha! it cannot sure be day? What Star--what Sun is bursting on the bay? It shines a lake of fire!--away--away! Ho! treachery! my guards! my scimitar! The galleys feed the flames--and I afar! Accurséd Dervise!--these thy tidings--thou Some villain spy--seize--cleave him--slay him now!"

Up rose the Dervise with that burst of light, Nor less his change of form appalled the sight: Up rose that Dervise--not in saintly garb, 750 But like a warrior bounding on his barb, Dashed his high cap, and tore his robe away-- Shone his mailed breast, and flashed his sabre's ray! His close but glittering casque, and sable plume, More glittering eye, and black brow's sabler gloom, Glared on the Moslems' eyes some Afrit Sprite, Whose demon death-blow left no hope for fight. The wild confusion, and the swarthy glow Of flames on high, and torches from below; The shriek of terror, and the mingling yell-- 760 For swords began to clash, and shouts to swell-- Flung o'er that spot of earth the air of Hell! Distracted, to and fro, the flying slaves Behold but bloody shore and fiery waves; Nought heeded they the Pacha's angry cry, _They_ seize that Dervise!--seize on Zatanai![216] He saw their terror--checked the first despair That urged him but to stand and perish there, Since far too early and too well obeyed, The flame was kindled ere the signal made; 770 He saw their terror--from his baldric drew His bugle--brief the blast--but shrilly blew; 'Tis answered--"Well ye speed, my gallant crew! Why did I doubt their quickness of career? And deem design had left me single here?" Sweeps his long arm--that sabre's whirling sway Sheds fast atonement for its first delay; Completes his fury, what their fear begun, And makes the many basely quail to one. The cloven turbans o'er the chamber spread, 780 And scarce an arm dare rise to guard its head: Even Seyd, convulsed, o'erwhelmed, with rage, surprise, Retreats before him, though he still defies. No craven he--and yet he dreads the blow, So much Confusion magnifies his foe! His blazing galleys still distract his sight, He tore his beard, and foaming fled the fight;[217] For now the pirates passed the Haram gate, And burst within--and it were death to wait; Where wild Amazement shrieking--kneeling--throws 790 The sword aside--in vain--the blood o'erflows! The Corsairs pouring, haste to where within Invited Conrad's bugle, and the din Of groaning victims, and wild cries for life, Proclaimed how well he did the work of strife. They shout to find him grim and lonely there, A glutted tiger mangling in his lair! But short their greeting, shorter his reply-- "'Tis well--but Seyd escapes--and he must die-- Much hath been done--but more remains to do-- 800 Their galleys blaze--why not their city too?"