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? 1030 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!" He raised his head, and dazzled with the light, His eye seemed dubious if it saw aright: He moved his hand--the grating of his chain Too harshly told him that he lived again. "What is that form? if not a shape of air, Methinks, my jailor's face shows wondrous fair!" 1040 "Pirate! thou know'st me not, but I am one, Grateful for deeds thou hast too rarely done; Look on me--and remember her, thy hand Snatched from the flames, and thy more fearful band. I come through darkness--and I scarce know why-- Yet not to hurt--I would not see thee die."

"If so, kind lady! thine the only eye That would not here in that gay hope delight: Theirs is the chance--and let them use their right. But still I thank their courtesy or thine, 1050 That would confess me at so fair a shrine!"

Strange though it seem--yet with extremest grief Is linked a mirth--it doth not bring relief-- That playfulness of Sorrow ne'er beguiles, And smiles in bitterness--but still it smiles; And sometimes with the wisest and the best, Till even the scaffold[223] echoes with their jest! Yet not the joy to which it seems akin-- It may deceive all hearts, save that within. Whate'er it was that flashed on Conrad, now 1060 A laughing wildness half unbent his brow: And these his accents had a sound of mirth, As if the last he could enjoy on earth; Yet 'gainst his nature--for through that short life, Few thoughts had he to spare from gloom and strife.