The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero)/Poetry/Volume 3/The Bride of Abydos

by George Gordon Byron

For other versions of this work, see The Bride of Abydos.

THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS.

 

A TURKISH TALE.

 

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"Had we never loved sae kindly,
Had we never loved sae blindly,
Never met—or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken-hearted."—
Burns [Farewell to Nancy]

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INTRODUCTION TO THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS.

Many poets—Wordsworth, for instance—have been conscious in their old age that an interest attaches to the circumstances of the composition of their poems, and have furnished their friends and admirers with explanatory notes. Byron recorded the motif and occasion of the Bride of Abydos while the poem was still in the press. It was written, he says, to divert his mind, "to wring his thoughts from reality to imagination—from selfish regrets to vivid recollections" {Diary, December 5, 1813, Letters, ii. 361), "to distract his dreams from . . ." {Diary, November 16) "for the sake of employment" (Letter to Moore, November 30, 1813). He had been staying during part of October and November at Aston Hall, Rotherham, with his friend James Wedderburn Webster, and had fallen in love with his friend's wife. Lady Frances. From a brief note to his sister, dated November 5, we learn that he was in a scrape, but in "no immediate peril," and from the lines, "Remember him, whom Passion's power" {vide ante, p. 67), we may infer that he had sought safety in flight. The Bride of Abydos, or Zuleika, as it was first entitled, was written early in November, "in four nights" {Diary, November 16), or in a week (Letter to Gifford, November 12)—the reckoning goes for little—as a counter-irritant to the pain and distress of amour interrompu.

The confession or apology is eminently characteristic. Whilst the Giaour was still in process of evolution, still "lengthening its rattles," another Turkish poem is offered to the public, and the natural explanation, that the author is in vein, and can score another trick, is felt to be inadequate and dishonouring —"To withdraw myself from myself," he confides to his Diary (November 27), "has ever been my sole, my entire, my sincere motive for scribbling at all."

It is more than probable that in his twenty-sixth year Byron had not attained to perfect self-knowledge, but there is no reason to question his sincerity. That Byron loved to surround himself with mystery, and to dissociate himself from "the general," is true enough; but it does not follow that at all times and under all circumstances he was insincere. "Once a poseur always a poseur," is a rough-and-ready formula not invariably applicable even to a poet.

But the Bride of Abydos was a tonic as well as a styptic. Like the Giaour, it embodied a personal experience, and recalled "a country replete with the darkest and brightest, but always the most lively colours of my memory" (Diary, December 5, 1813).

In a letter to Galt (December 11, 1813, Letters, 1898, ii. 304, reprinted from Life of Byron, pp. 181, 182) Byron maintains that the first part of the Bride was drawn from "observations" of his own, "from existence." He had, it would appear, intended to make the story turn on the guilty love of a brother for a sister, a tragic incident of life in a Harem, which had come under his notice during his travels in the East, but "on second thoughts" had reflected that he lived "two centuries at least too late for the subject," and that not even the authority of the "finest works of the' Greeks," or of Schiller (in the Bride of Messina), or of Alfieri (in Mirra), "in modern times," would sanction the intrusion of the μισητὸν into English literature. The early drafts and variants of the MS. do not afford any evidence of this alteration of the plot which, as Byron thought, was detrimental to the poem as a work of art, but the undoubted fact that the Bride of Abydos, as well as the Giaour, embody recollections of actual scenes and incidents which had burnt themselves into the memory of an eye-witness, accounts not only for the fervent heat at which these Turkish tales were written, but for the extraordinary glamour which they threw over contemporary readers, to whom the local colouring was new and attractive, and who were not out of conceit with "good Monsieur Melancholy."

Byron was less dissatisfied with his second Turkish tale than he had been with the Giaour. He apologizes for the rapidity with which it had been composed—stans pede in uno—but he announced to Murray (November 20) that "he was doing his best to beat the Giaour," and (November 29) he appraises the Bride as "my first entire composition of any length."

Moreover, he records (November 15), with evident gratification, the approval of his friend Hodgson, "a very sincere and by no means (at times) a flattering critic of mine," and modestly accepts the praise of such masters of letters as "Mr. Canning," Hookham Frere, Heber, Lord Holland, and of the traveller Edward Daniel Clarke.

The Bride of Abydos was advertised in the Morning Chronicle, among "Books published this day," on November 29, 1813. It was reviewed by George Ellis in the Quarterly Review of January, 1814 (vol. x. p. 331), and, together with the Corsair. by Jeffrey in the Edinburgh Review of April, 1814 (vol. xxiii. p. 198).

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NOTE TO THE MSS. OF THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS.

The MSS. of the Bride of Abydos are contained in a bound volume, and in two packets of loose sheets, numbering thirty-two in all, of which eighteen represent additions, etc., to the First Canto; and fourteen additions, etc., to the Second Canto.

The bound volume consists of a rough copy and a fair copy of the first draft of the Bride; the fair copy beginning with the sixth stanza of Canto I.

The "additions" in the bound volume consist of—

1. Stanza xxviii. of Canto II.— here called "Conclusion" (fifty-eight lines). And note on "Sir Orford's Letters."
2. Eight lines beginning, "Eve saw it placed," at the end of stanza xxviii.
3. An emendation of six lines to stanza v. of Canto II., with reference to the comboloio, the Turkish rosary.
4. Forty additional lines to stanza xx. of Canto II., beginning, For thee in those bright isles," and being the first draft of the addition as printed in the Revises of November 13, etc.
5. Stanza xxvii. of Canto II., twenty-eight lines.
6. Ten additional lines to stanza xxvii., "Ah! happy!"—depart."
7. Affixed to the rough Copy in stanza xxviii., fifty-eight lines, here called "Continuation." This is the rough Copy of No. I.

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The eighteen loose sheets of additions to Canto I. consist of—

1. The Dedication.
2. Two revisions of "Know ye the land."
3. Seven sheets, Canto I. stanzas i.–v., being the commencement of the Fair Copy in the bound volume.
4. Two sheets of the additional twelve lines to Canto I. stanza vi., "Who hath not proved,"—"Soul."
5. Four sheets of notes to Canto I. stanza vi., dated November 20, November 22, 1813.
6. Two sheets of notes to stanza xvi.
7. Sixteen additional lines to stanza xiii.

The fourteen additional sheets to Canto II. consist of—

1. Ten lines of stanza iv., and four lines of stanza xvii.
2. Two lines and note of stanza v.
3. Sheets of additions, etc., to stanza xx. (eight sheets).
   1. Eight lines, "Or, since that hope,"—"thy command."
   2. "For thee in those bright isles" (twenty-four lines).
   3. "For thee," etc. (thirty-six lines).
   4. "Blest as the call" (three variants).
   5. "For thee in those bright isles" (seven lines).
   6. Fourteen lines, "There ev'n thy soul,"—"Zuleika's name," "Aye—let the loud winds,"—"bars escape," additional to stanza xx.
4. Two sheets of five variants of "Ah! wherefore did he turn to look?" being six additional lines to stanza xxv.
5. Thirty-five lines of stanza xxvi.
6. Ten lines, "Ah! happy! but,"—"depart." And eleven lines, "Woe to thee, rash,"—"hast shed," being a continuous addition to stanza xxvii.

Revises.

Endorsed—

1. November 13, 1813.
2. November 15, 1813.
3. November 16, 1813.
4. November 18, 1813.
5. November 19, 1813.
6. November 21, 1813.
7. November 23, 1813.
8. November 24, 1813. A wrong date
9. November 25, 1813.
10. An imperfect revise = Nos. i.–v.

TO

THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

LORD HOLLAND,

THIS TALE

IS INSCRIBED, WITH

EVERY SENTIMENT OF REGARD

AND RESPECT,

BY HIS GRATEFULLY OBLIGED

AND SINCERE FRIEND,

BYRON.^{[V 1]}

THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS.^{[N 1]}

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CANTO THE FIRST.

I.

Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle^{[N 2]}
Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime?
Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle,
Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime?
Know ye the land of the cedar and vine,
Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine;
Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppressed with perfume,
Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gúl^{[N 3]} in her bloom;
Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit,
And the voice of the nightingale never is mute;^{[N 4]} 10
Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky,
In colour though varied, in beauty may vie,
And the purple of Ocean is deepest in dye;
Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine,
And all, save the spirit of man, is divine—
'Tis the clime of the East—'tis the land of the Sun—
Can he smile on such deeds as his children have done?^{[N 5]}
Oh! wild as the accents of lovers' farewell^{[V 2]}
Are the hearts which they bear, and the tales which they tell.

II.^{[V 3]}
Begirt with many a gallant slave, 20
Apparelled as becomes the brave,
Awaiting each his Lord's behest
To guide his steps, or guard his rest,
Old Giaffir sate in his Divan:
Deep thought was in his agéd eye;
And though the face of Mussulman
Not oft betrays to standers by
The mind within, well skilled to hide
All but unconquerable pride,
His pensive cheek and pondering brow^{[V 4]} 30
Did more than he was wont avow.

III.
"Let the chamber be cleared."—The train disappeared—
"Now call me the chief of the Haram guard "—
With Giaffir is none but his only son,
And the Nubian awaiting the sire's award.
"Haroun—when all the crowd that wait
Are passed beyond the outer gate,
(Woe to the head whose eye beheld
My child Zuleika's face unveiled!)
Hence, lead my daughter from her tower—^{[V 5]} 40
Her fate is fixed this very hour;
Yet not to her repeat my thought—
By me alone be duty taught!"

"Pacha! to hear is to obey."—
No more must slave to despot say—
Then to the tower had ta'en his way:
But here young Selim silence brake,
First lowly rendering reverence meet;
And downcast looked, and gently spake,
Still standing at the Pacha's feet: 50
For son of Moslem must expire,
Ere dare to sit before his sire!
"Father! for fear that thou shouldst chide
My sister, or her sable guide—
Know—for the fault, if fault there be,
Was mine—then fall thy frowns on me!
So lovelily the morning shone,
That—let the old and weary sleep—
I could not; and to view alone
The fairest scenes of land and deep, 60
With none to listen and reply
To thoughts with which my heart beat high
Were irksome—for whate'er my mood,
In sooth I love not solitude;
I on Zuleika's slumber broke,
And, as thou knowest that for me
Soon turns the Haram's grating key,
Before the guardian slaves awoke
We to the cypress groves had flown,
And made earth, main, and heaven our own! 70
There lingered we, beguiled too long
With Mejnoun's tale, or Sadi's song;^{[V 6][N 6]}
Till I, who heard the deep tambour^{[N 7]}
Beat thy Divan's approaching hour,
To thee, and to my duty true,
Warned by the sound, to greet thee flew:
But there Zuleika wanders yet—
Nay, Father, rage not—nor forget
That none can pierce that secret bower
But those who watch the women's tower." 80

IV.
"Son of a slave"—the Pacha said—
"From unbelieving mother bred,
Vain were a father's hope to see
Aught that beseems a man in thee.
Thou, when thine arm should bend the bow,
And hurl the dart, and curb the steed,
Thou, Greek in soul if not in creed,
Must pore where babbling waters flow,^{[V 7]}
And watch unfolding roses blow.
Would that yon Orb, whose matin glow 90
Thy listless eyes so much admire,
Would lend thee something of his fire!
Thou, who woulds't see this battlement
By Christian cannon piecemeal rent;
Nay, tamely view old Stambol's wall
Before the dogs of Moscow fall,
Nor strike one stroke for life and death
Against the curs of Nazareth!
Go—let thy less than woman's hand
Assume the distaff—not the brand. 100
But, Haroun!—to my daughter speed:
And hark—of thine own head take heed—
If thus Zuleika oft takes wing—
Thou see'st yon bow—it hath a string!"

V.
No sound from Selim's lip was heard,
At least that met old Giaffir's ear,
But every frown and every word
Pierced keener than a Christian's sword.
"Son of a slave!—reproached with fear!
Those gibes had cost another dear. 110
Son of a slave!—and who my Sire?"
Thus held his thoughts their dark career;
And glances ev'n of more than ire^{[V 8]}
Flash forth, then faintly disappear.
Old Giaffir gazed upon his son
And started; for within his eye
He read how much his wrath had done;
He saw rebellion there begun:
"Come hither, boy—what, no reply?
I mark thee—and I know thee too; 120
But there be deeds thou dar'st not do:
But if thy beard had manlier length,
And if thy hand had skill and strength,
I'd joy to see thee break a lance,
Albeit against my own perchance."
As sneeringly these accents fell,
On Selim's eye he fiercely gazed:
That eye returned him glance for glance,
And proudly to his Sire's was raised,^{[V 9]}
Till Giaffir's quailed and shrunk askance— 130
And why—he felt, but durst not tell.
"Much I misdoubt this wayward boy
Will one day work me more annoy:
I never loved him from his birth,
And—but his arm is little worth,
And scarcely in the chase could cope
With timid fawn or antelope,
Far less would venture into strife
Where man contends for fame and life—
I would not trust that look or tone: 140
No—nor the blood so near my own.^{[V 10]}
That blood—he hath not heard—no more—
I'll watch him closer than before.
He is an Arab^{[N 8]} to my sight,
Or Christian crouching in the fight—^{[V 11]}
But hark!—I hear Zuleika's voice;
Like Houris' hymn it meets mine ear:
She is the offspring of my choice;
Oh! more than ev'n her mother dear,
With all to hope, and nought to fear— 150
My Peri! ever welcome here!^{[V 12]}
Sweet, as the desert fountain's wave
To lips just cooled in time to save—
Such to my longing sight art thou;
Nor can they waft to Mecca's shrine
More thanks for life, than I for thine,
Who blest thy birth and bless thee now."^{[V 13]}

VI.
Fair, as the first that fell of womankind,
When on that dread yet lovely serpent smiling,
Whose Image then was stamped upon her mind— 160
But once beguiled—and ever more beguiling;
Dazzling, as that, oh! too transcendent vision
To Sorrow's phantom-peopled slumber given,
When heart meets heart again in dreams Elysian,
And paints the lost on Earth revived in Heaven;
Soft, as the memory of buried love;
Pure, as the prayer which Childhood wafts above;
Was she—the daughter of that rude old Chief,
Who met the maid with tears—but not of grief.

Who hath not proved how feebly words essay^{[N 9]} 170
To fix one spark of Beauty's heavenly ray?
Who doth not feel, until his failing sight^{[V 14]}
Faints into dimness with its own delight,
His changing cheek, his sinking heart confess
The might—the majesty of Loveliness?
Such was Zuleika—such around her shone
The nameless charms unmarked by her alone—
The light of Love, the purity of Grace,^{[V 15]}
The mind, the Music^{[N 10]} breathing from her face,

^{[V 16]} The heart whose softness harmonized the whole, 180
And oh that eye was in itself a Soul!

Her graceful arms in meekness bending
Across her gently-budding breast;
At one kind word those arms extending
To clasp the neck of him who blest
His child caressing and carest,
Zuleika came—and Giaffir felt
His purpose half within him melt:
Not that against her fancied weal
His heart though stern could ever feel; 190
Affection chained her to that heart;
Ambition tore the links apart.

VII.
"Zuleika! child of Gentleness!
How dear this very day must tell,
When I forget my own distress,
In losing what I love so well,
^{[N 10]} To bid thee with another dwell:
Another! and a braver man
Was never seen in battle's van.
We Moslem reck not much of blood: 200
But yet the line of Carasman^{[N 11]}
Unchanged, unchangeable hath stood.
First of the bold Timariot bands
That won and well can keep their lands.^{[V 17]}
Enough that he who comes to woo^{[V 18]}
Is kinsman of the Bey Oglou:^{[N 12]}
His years need scarce a thought employ;
I would not have thee wed a boy.
And thou shalt have a noble dower:
And his and my united power 210
Will laugh to scorn the death-firman,
Which others tremble but to scan,
And teach the messenger^{[N 13]} what fate
The bearer of such boon may wait.
And now thou know'st thy father's will;
All that thy sex hath need to know:
'Twas mine to teach obedience still—
The way to love, thy Lord may show."

VIII.
In silence bowed the virgin's head;
And if her eye was filled with tears 220
That stifled feeling dare not shed,
And changed her cheek from pale to red,
And red to pale, as through her ears
Those wingéd words like arrows sped,
What could such be but maiden fears?
So bright the tear in Beauty's eye,
Love half regrets to kiss it dry;
So sweet the blush of Bashfulness,
Even Pity scarce can wish it less!

Whate'er it was the sire forgot: 230
Or if remembered, marked it not;
Thrice clapped his hands, and called his steed,^{[N 14]}
Resigned his gem-adorned chibouque,^{[N 15]}
And mounting featly for the mead,
With Maugrabee^{[N 16]} and Mamaluke,
His way amid his Delis took,^{[N 17]}
To witness many an active deed
With sabre keen, or blunt jerreed.
The Kislar only and his Moors^{[N 18]}
Watch well the Haram's massy doors. 240

IX.
His head was leant upon his hand,
His eye looked o'er the dark blue water
That swiftly glides and gently swells
Between the winding Dardanelles;
But yet he saw nor sea nor strand,
Nor even his Pacha's turbaned band
Mix in the game of mimic slaughter,
Careering cleave the folded felt^{[N 19]}
With sabre stroke right sharply dealt;
Nor marked the javelin-darting crowd, 250
Nor heard their Ollahs^{[N 20]} wild and loud—
He thought but of old Giaffir's daughter!

X.
No word from Selim's bosom broke;
One sigh Zuleika's thought bespoke:
Still gazed he through the lattice grate,
Pale, mute, and mournfully sedate.
To him Zuleika's eye was turned,
But little from his aspect learned:
Equal her grief, yet not the same;
Her heart confessed a gentler flame:^{[V 19]} 260
But yet that heart, alarmed or weak,
She knew not why, forbade to speak.
Yet speak she must—but when essay?
"How strange he thus should turn away!
Not thus we e'er before have met;
Not thus shall be our parting yet."
Thrice paced she slowly through the room,
And watched his eye—it still was fixed:
She snatched the urn wherein was mixed
The Persian Atar-gul's perfume,^{[N 21]} 270
And sprinkled all its odours o'er
The pictured roof^{[N 22]} and marble floor:
The drops, that through his glittering vest^{[V 20]}
The playful girl's appeal addressed,
Unheeded o'er his bosom flew,
As if that breast were marble too.
"What, sullen yet? it must not be—
Oh! gentle Selim, this from thee!"
She saw in curious order set
The fairest flowers of Eastern land— 280
"He loved them once; may touch them yet,
If offered by Zuleika's hand."
The childish thought was hardly breathed
Before the rose was plucked and wreathed;
The next fond moment saw her seat
Her fairy form at Selim's feet:
"This rose to calm my brother's cares
A message from the Bulbul^{[N 23]} bears;
It says to-night he will prolong
For Selim's ear his sweetest song; 290
And though his note is somewhat sad,
He'll try for once a strain more glad,
With some faint hope his altered lay
May sing these gloomy thoughts away.

XI.
"What! not receive my foolish flower?
Nay then I am indeed unblest:
On me can thus thy forehead lower?
And know'st thou not who loves thee best?^{[V 21]}
Oh, Selim dear! oh, more than dearest!
Say, is it me thou hat'st or fearest? 300
Come, lay thy head upon my breast,
And I will kiss thee into rest,
Since words of mine, and songs must fail,
Ev'n from my fabled nightingale.
I knew our sire at times was stern,
But this from thee had yet to learn:
Too well I know he loves thee not;
But is Zuleika's love forgot?
Ah! deem I right? the Pacha's plan—
This kinsman Bey of Carasman 310
Perhaps may prove some foe of thine.
If so, I swear by Mecca's shrine,—^{[V 22]}
If shrines that ne'er approach allow
To woman's step admit her vow,—
Without thy free consent—command—
The Sultan should not have my hand!
Think'st thou that I could bear to part
With thee, and learn to halve my heart?
Ah! were I severed from thy side,
Where were thy friend-and who my guide? 320
Years have not seen, Time shall not see,
The hour that tears my soul from thee:^{[V 23]}
Ev'n Azrael,^{[N 24]} from his deadly quiver
When flies that shaft, and fly it must,^{[V 24]}
That parts all else, shall doom for ever
Our hearts to undivided dust!"

XII.
He lived—he breathed—he moved—he felt;
He raised the maid from where she knelt;
His trance was gone, his keen eye shone
With thoughts that long in darkness dwelt; 330
With thoughts that burn—in rays that melt.
As the stream late concealed
By the fringe of its willows,
When it rushes revealed
In the light of its billows;
As the bolt bursts on high
From the black cloud that bound it,
Flashed the soul of that eye
Through the long lashes round it.
A war-horse at the trumpet's sound, 340
A lion roused by heedless hound,
A tyrant waked to sudden strife
By graze of ill-directed knife,^{[V 25]}
Starts not to more convulsive life
Than he, who heard that vow, displayed,
And all, before repressed, betrayed:
"Now thou art mine, for ever mine,
With life to keep, and scarce with life resign;^{[V 26]}
"Now thou art mine, that sacred oath,
Though sworn by one, hath bound us both. 350
Yes, fondly, wisely hast thou done;
That vow hath saved more heads than one:
But blench not thou—thy simplest tress
Claims more from me than tenderness;
I would not wrong the slenderest hair
That clusters round thy forehead fair,^{[V 27]}
For all the treasures buried far
Within the caves of Istakar.^{[N 25]}
This morning clouds upon me lowered,
Reproaches on my head were showered, 360
And Giaffir almost called me coward!
Now I have motive to be brave;
The son of his neglected slave,
Nay, start not, 'twas the term he gave,
May show, though little apt to vaunt,
A heart his words nor deeds can daunt.
His son, indeed!—yet, thanks to thee,
Perchance I am, at least shall be;
But let our plighted secret vow
Be only known to us as now. 370
I know the wretch who dares demand
From Giaffir thy reluctant hand;
More ill-got wealth, a meaner soul
Holds not a Musselim's^{[N 26]} control;
Was he not bred in Egripo?^{[N 27]}
A viler race let Israel show!
But let that pass—to none be told
Our oath; the rest shall time unfold.
To me and mine leave Osman Bey!
I've partisans for Peril's day: 380
Think not I am what I appear;
I've arms—and friends—and vengeance near."

XIII.
"Think not thou art what thou appearest!
My Selim, thou art sadly changed:
This morn I saw thee gentlest—dearest—
But now thou'rt from thyself estranged.
My love thou surely knew'st before,
It ne'er was less—nor can be more.
To see thee—hear thee—near thee stay—
And hate the night—I know not why, 390
Save that we meet not but by day;
With thee to live, with thee to die,
I dare not to my hope deny:
Thy cheek—thine eyes—thy lips to kiss—
Like this—and this—no more than this;^{[V 28]}
For, Allah! sure thy lips are flame:
What fever in thy veins is flushing?
My own have nearly caught the same,
At least I feel my cheek, too, blushing.
To soothe thy sickness, watch thy health, 400
Partake, but never waste thy wealth,
Or stand with smiles unmurmuring by,
And lighten half thy poverty;
Do all but close thy dying eye,
For that I could not live to try;
To these alone my thoughts aspire:
More can I do? or thou require?
But, Selim, thou must answer why^{[V 29]}
We need so much of mystery?
The cause I cannot dream nor tell, 410
But be it, since thou say'st 'tis well;
Yet what thou mean'st by 'arms' and 'friends,'
Beyond my weaker sense extends.
I meant that Giaffir should have heard
The very vow I plighted thee;
His wrath would not revoke my word:
But surely he would leave me free.
Can this fond wish seem strange in me,
To be what I have ever been?
What other hath Zuleika seen 420
From simple childhood's earliest hour?
What other can she seek to see
Than thee, companion of her bower,
The partner of her infancy?
These cherished thoughts with life begun,
Say, why must I no more avow?
What change is wrought to make me shun
The truth—my pride, and thine till now?
To meet the gaze of stranger's eyes
Our law—our creed—our God denies; 430
Nor shall one wandering thought of mine
At such, our Prophet's will, repine:
No! happier made by that decree,
He left me all in leaving thee.
Deep were my anguish, thus compelled^{[V 30]}
To wed with one I ne'er beheld:
This wherefore should I not reveal?
Why wilt thou urge me to conceal?^{[V 31]}
I know the Pacha's haughty mood
To thee hath never boded good; 440
And he so often storms at nought,
Allah! forbid that e'er he ought!
And why I know not, but within
My heart concealment weighs like sin.^{[V 32]}
If then such secrecy be crime,
And such it feels while lurking here;
Oh, Selim! tell me yet in time,
Nor leave me thus to thoughts of fear.
Ah! yonder see the Tchocadar,^{[N 28]}
My father leaves the mimic war; 450
I tremble now to meet his eye—
Say, Selim, canst thou tell me why?"

XIV.
"Zuleika—to thy tower's retreat
Betake thee—Giaffir I can greet:
And now with him I fain must prate
Of firmans, imposts, levies, state.
There's fearful news from Danube's banks,
Our Vizier nobly thins his ranks
For which the Giaour may give him thanks!
Our Sultan hath a shorter way 460
Such costly triumph to repay.
But, mark me, when the twilight drum
Hath warned the troops to food and sleep,
Unto thy cell with Selim come;
Then softly from the Haram creep
Where we may wander by the deep:
Our garden battlements are steep;
Nor these will rash intruder climb
To list our words, or stint our time;
And if he doth, I want not steel 470
Which some have felt, and more may feel.
Then shalt thou learn of Selim more
Than thou hast heard or thought before:
Trust me, Zuleika—fear not me!
Thou know'st I hold a Haram key."

"Fear thee, my Selim! ne'er till now
Did words like this———"
"Delay not thou;^{[V 33]}
I keep the key—and Haroun's guard
Have some, and hope of more reward.
To-night, Zuleika, thou shalt hear 480
My tale, my purpose, and my fear:
I am not, love! what I appear."

Variants

1. To the Right Hon^ble.
   Henry Richard Vassal
   Lord Holland
   This Tale
   Is inscribed with
   Every sentiment of the
   Most affectionate respect
   by his gratefully obliged servt.
   And sincere Friend
   Byron

   [Proof and Revise.—See Letters to Murray, November 13, 17, 1813.]
2. For wild as the moment of lovers' farewell.—[MS.]
3. Canto 1^st. The Bride of Abydos. Nov. 1st. 1813.—[MS.]
4. The changing cheek and knitting brow.—[MS. i.]
5. Hence—bid my daughter hither come
   This hour decides her future doom—
   Yet not to her these words express
   But lead her from the tower's recess.—[MSS. i., ii.]
   
   
   [These lines must have been altered in proof, for all the revises accord with the text.]
6. With many a tale and mutual song.—[MS.]

7. Must walk forsooth where waters flow
   And pore on every flower below.—[MS. erased.]

8. For looks of peace and hearts of ire.—[MS.]
9. And calmly to his Sire's was raised.—[MS.]
10. No—nor the blood I call my own.—[MS.]
11. Or Christian flying from the fight.—[MS.]
12. Zuleika! ever welcome here.—[MS.]
13. Who never was more blest than now.—[MS.]
14. Who hath not felt his very power of sight
    Faint with the languid dimness of delight?-[MS.]
15. The light of life—the purity of grace
    The mind of Music breathing in her face.
    or,Mind on her lip and music in her face.
    A heart where softness harmonized the whole
    And oh! her eye was in itself a Soul!—[MS.]
16. In this line I have not drawn from fiction but memory—that mirror of regret memory—the too faithful mirror of affliction the long vista through which we gaze. Someone has said that the perfection of Architecture is frozen music—the perfection of Beauty to my mind always presented the idea of living Music.—[MS. erased.]
17. Who won of yore paternal lands.—[MS.]
18. Enough if that thy bridesman true.-[MS. erased.]
19. Her heart confessed no cause of shame.—[MS.]
20. The drops that flow upon his vest
    Unheeded fell upon his breast.—[MS.]
21. Would I had never seen this hour
    What knowest thou not who loves thee best.—[MS.]
    
    
22. If so by Mecca's hidden shrine.—[MS.]
23. The day that teareth thee from me.—[MS.]
24. When comes that hour and come it must.—[MS. erased.]

25. Which thanks to terror and the dark
    Hath missed a trifle of its mark.—[MS.]

    [The couplet was expunged in a revise dated November 19.]
26. With life to keep but not with life resign.—[MS.]
27. That strays along that head so fair.—[MS.]
    or, That strays along that neck so fair.—[MS.]
28. Like this—and more than this.—[MS.]
29. But—Selim why my heart's reply
    Should need so much of mystery
    Is more than I can guess or tell,
    But since thou say'st 'tis so—'tis well.—[MS.]
    [The fourth line erased.]
    
    
30. He blest me more in leaving thee.
    Much should I suffer thus compelled.—[MS.]
    
    
31. This vow I should no more conceal
    And wherefore should I not reveal?—[MS.]
    
    
32. My breast is consciousness of sin
    But when and where and what the crime
    I almost feel is lurking here.—[MS.]
    
    
33. Be silent thou.—[MS.]

Notes

1. ["Murray tells me that Croker asked him why the thing was called the Bride of Abydos? It is a cursed awkward question, being unanswerable. She is not a bride, only about to become one. I don't wonder at his finding out the Bull; but the detection ... is too late to do any good. I was a great fool to make it, and am ashamed of not being an Irishman."—Journal, December 6, 1813; Letters, 1898, ii. 365.

   Byron need not have been dismayed. "The term is particularly applied on the day of marriage and during the 'honeymoon,' but is frequently used from the proclamation of the banns.... In the debate on Prince Leopold's allowance, Mr. Gladstone, being criticized for speaking of the Princess Helena as the 'bride,' said he believed that colloquially a lady when engaged was often called a 'bride.' This was met with 'Hear! Hear!' from some, and 'No! No!' from others."—N. Engl. Dict., art. "Bride."]

2. [The opening lines were probably suggested by Goethe's—
   "Kennst du das Land wo die citronen blühn?"]
   
   
3. "Gúl," the rose.
4. ["'Where the Citron,' etc. These lines are in the MS., and omitted by the Printer, whom I again request to look over it, and see that no others are omitted.—B." (Revise No. 1, November 13, 1813.)
   "I ought and do apologise to Mr. — the Printer for charging him with an omission of the lines which I find was my own—but I also wish he would not print such a stupid word as finest for fairest." (Revise, November 15, 1813.)
   The lines, "Where the Citron," etc., are absent from a fair copy dated November 11, but are inserted as an addition in an earlier draft.]
5. "Souls made of fire, and children of the Sun,
   With whom revenge is virtue."
   
   
   Young's Revenge, act v. sc. 2 (British Theatre, 1792, p. 84).
6. Mejnoun and Leila, the Romeo and Juliet of the East. Sadi, the moral poet of Persia. [For the "story of Leila and Mujnoon," see The Gulistan, or Rose Garden of . . . Saadi, translated by Francis Gladwin, Boston, 1865, Tale xix. pp. 288, 289; and Gulistan . . . du Cheikh Sa'di . . . Traduit par W. Semelet, Paris, 1834, Notes on Chapitre V. p. 304. Sa'di "moralizes" the tale, to the effect that love dwells in the eye of the beholder. See, too, Jāmi's Medjnoun et Leila, translated by A. L. Chezy, Paris, 1807.]
7. Tambour. Turkish drum, which sounds at sunrise, noon, and twilight. [The "tambour" is a kind of mandoline. It is the large kettle-drum (nagaré) which sounds the hours.]
8. The Turks abhor the Arabs (who return the compliment a hundredfold) even more than they hate the Christians.
9. [Lines 170-181 were added in the course of printing. They were received by the publisher on November 22, 1813.]
10. This expression has met with objections. I will not refer to "Him who hath not Music in his soul," but merely request the reader to recollect, for ten seconds, the features of the woman whom he believes to be the most beautiful; and, if he then does not comprehend fully what is feebly expressed in the above line, I shall be sorry for us both. For an eloquent passage in the latest work of the first female writer of this, perhaps of any, age, on the analogy (and the immediate comparison excited by that analogy) between "painting and music," see vol. iii. cap. 10, De l'Allemagne. And is not this connection still stronger with the original than the copy? with the colouring of Nature than of Art? After all, this is rather to be felt than described; still I think there are some who will understand it, at least they would have done had they beheld the countenance whose speaking harmony suggested the idea; for this passage is not drawn from imagination but memory, that mirror which Affliction dashes to the earth, and looking down upon the fragments, only beholds the reflection multiplied!
    [For the simile of the broken mirror, compare Childe Harold, Canto III. stanza xxxiii. line I (Poetical Works, ii. 236, note 2); and for "the expression," "music breathing from her face," compare Sir Thomas Browne's Religio Medici, Part II. sect. ix, Works, 1835, ii. 106, "And sure there is musick, even in the beauty and the silent note which Cupid strikes, far sweeter than the sound of any instrument;" and Lovelace's "Song," Orpheus to Beasts—
    "Oh could you view the melody
    Of ev'ry grace,
    And music of her face!"
    
    
    The effect of the appeal to Madame de Staël is thus recorded in Byron's Journal of December 7, 1813 (Letters, 1898, ii. 369): "This morning, a very pretty billet from the Staël," (for passage in De L'Allemagne, Part III. chap. x., and the "billet," see Letters, ii. 354, note 1) . . . "She has been pleased to be pleased with my slight eulogy in the note annexed to The Bride."]
11. Carasman Oglou, or Kara Osman Oglou, is the principal landholder in Turkey; he governs Magnesia: those who, by a kind of feudal tenure, possess land on condition of service, are called Timariots: they serve as Spahis, according to the extent of territory, and bring a certain number into the field, generally cavalry.
    [The "line of Carasman" dates back to Kara Youlouk, the founder of the dynasty of the "White Sheep," at the close of the fourteenth century. Hammer-Purgstall (Hist. de l'Emp. Ottoman, iii. 151) gives sang-sue, "blood-sucker," as the equivalent of Youlouk, which should, however, be interpreted "smooth-face." Of the Magnesian Kara Osman Oglou ("Black Osman-son"), Dallaway (Constantinople Ancient and Modern, 1797, p. 190) writes, "He is the most powerful and opulent derè bey ('lord of the valley'), or feudal tenant, in the empire, and, though inferior to the pasha's in rank, possesses more wealth and influence, and offers them an example of administration and patriotic government which they have rarely the virtue to follow." For the Timariots, who formed the third class of the feudal cavalry of the Ottoman Empire, see Finlay's Greece under Othoman . . . Domination, 1856, pp. 50, 51.]
12. [The Bey Oglou (= Begzāde) is "the nobleman," "the high-born chief."]
13. When a Pacha is sufficiently strong to resist, the single messenger, who is always the first bearer of the order for his death, is strangled instead, and sometimes five or six, one after the other, on the same errand, by command of the refractory patient; if, on the contrary, he is weak or loyal, he bows, kisses the Sultan's respectable signature, and is bowstrung with great complacency. In 1810, several of these presents were exhibited in the niche of the Seraglio gate; among others, the head of the Pacha of Bagdat, a brave young man, cut off by treachery, after a desperate resistance.
14. Clapping of the hands calls the servants. The Turks hate a superfluous expenditure of voice, and they have no bells.
15. "Chibouque," the Turkish pipe, of which the amber mouthpiece, and sometimes the ball which contains the leaf, is adorned with precious stones, if in possession of the wealthier orders.
16. "Maugrabee" [Maghrabī, Moors], Moorish mercenaries.
17. "Delis," bravos who form the forlorn hope of the cavalry, and always begin the action. [See Childe Harold, Canto II., Poetical Works, 1899, ii. 149, note i.
18. [The Kizlar aghasi was the head of the black eunuchs; kislar, by itself, is Turkish for "girls," "virgins."]
19. A twisted fold of felt is used for scimitar practice by the Turks, and few but Mussulman arms can cut through it at a single stroke: sometimes a tough turban is used for the same purpose. The jerreed [jarīd] is a game of blunt javelins, animated and graceful.
20. 5. "Ollahs," Alla il Allah [La Ilāh illā 'llāh], the "Leilies," as the Spanish poets call them, the sound is Ollah; a cry of which the Turks, for a silent people, are somewhat profuse, particularly during the jerreed [jarīd], or in the chase, but mostly in battle. Their animation in the field, and gravity in the chamber, with their pipes and comboloios [vide post, p. 181, note 4], form an amusing contrast.
21. "Atar-gul," ottar of roses. The Persian is the finest.
22. The ceiling and wainscots, or rather walls, of the Mussulman apartments are generally painted, in great houses, with one eternal and highly-coloured view of Constantinople, wherein the principal feature is a noble contempt of perspective; below, arms, scimitars, etc., are, in general, fancifully and not inelegantly disposed.
23. It has been much doubted whether the notes of this "Lover of the rose" are sad or merry; and Mr. Fox's remarks on the subject have provoked some learned controversy as to the opinions of the ancients on the subject. I dare not venture a conjecture on the point, though a little inclined to the "errare mallem," etc., if Mr. Fox was mistaken.
    [Fox, writing to Grey (see Lord Holland's Preface (p. xii.) to the History . . . of James the Second, by . . . C. J. Fox, London, 1808), remarks, "In defence of my opinion about the nightingale, I find Chaucer, who of all poets seems to have been the fondest of the singing of birds, calls it a 'merry note,'" etc. Fox's contention was attacked and disproved by Martin Davy (1763-1839, physician and Master of Caius College, Cambridge), in an interesting and scholarly pamphlet entitled, Observations upon Mr. Fox's Letter to Mr. Grey, 1809.]
24. "Azrael," the angel of death.
25. The treasures of the Pre-Adamite Sultans. See D'Herbelot [1781, ii. 405], article Istakar [Estekhar ou Istekhar].
26. "Musselim," a governor, the next in rank after a Pacha; a Waywode is the third; and then come the Agas.
    [This table of precedence applies to Ottoman officials in Greece and other dependencies. The Musselim [Mutaselline] is the governor or commander of a city (e.g. Hobhouse, Travels in Albania, ii. 41, speaks of the "Musselim of Smyrna"); Aghas, i.e. heads of departments in the army or civil service, or the Sultan's household, here denote mayors of small towns, or local magnates.]
27. "Egripo," the Negropont. According to the proverb, the Turks of Egripo, the Jews of Salonica, and the Greeks of Athens, are the worst of their respective races.
    [See Gibbon's Decline and Fall, 1855, viii. 386.]
28. "Tchocadar"—one of the attendants who precedes a man of authority.
    [See D'Ohsson's Tableau Générale, etc., 1787, ii. 159, and Plates 87, 88. The Turks seem to have used the Persian word chawki-dār, an officer of the guard-house, a policeman (whence our slang word "chokey"), for a "valet de pied," or, in the case of the Sultan, for an apparitor. The French spelling points to D'Ohsson as Byron's authority.]