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And wet, and cold, and lifeless at her feet,

Pale as the foam that froth'd on his dead brow, Which she essay'd in vain to clear, (how sweet

Were once her cares, how idle seem'd they now !) Lay Juan, nor could aught renew the beat

Of his quench'd heart; and the sea dirges low Rang in her sad ears like a mermaid's song, And that brief dream (1) appear'd a life too long.(?)


And gazing on the dead, she thought his face

Faded, or alter'd into something new — Like to her father's features, till each trace

More like and like to Lambro's aspect grew With all his keen worn look and Grecian grace;

And starting, she awoke, and what to view ? Oh! Powers of Heaven! what dark eye meets she

there? 'Tis-'tis her father's fix'd


the pair!

(1) [MS. -“And that short dream contain'd a life too long."]

(2) [“ I awoke from a dream — well! and have not others dreamed ? Such a dream! but she did not overtake me. I wish the dead would rest, however. Ugh! how my blood chilled - and I could not wake- and - and - heigho!

Shadows to night
Have struck more terror in the soul of Richard,
Than could the substance of ten thousand,

Arm'd all in proof,' &c. &c. I do not like this dream - I hate its' foregone conclusion.' And am I to be shaken by shadows ? Ay, when they remind me of — no matter - but, if I dream thus again, I will try whether all sleep has the like visions. Since I rose, I've been in considerable bodily pain also; but it is gone and over, and now, like Lord Ogleby, I am wound up for the day." - B. Journal, 1813.)


Then shrieking, she arose, and shrieking fell,

With joy and sorrow, hope and fear, to see Him whom she deem'd a habitant where dwell

The ocean-buried, risen from death, to be Perchance the death of one she loved too well:

Dear as her father had been to Haidée, It was a moment of that awful kind. I have seen such—but must not call to mind.(1)


Up Juan sprung to Haidée's bitter shriek,

And caught her falling, and from off the wall Snatch'd down his sabre, in hot haste to wreak

Vengeance on him who was the cause of all: Then Lambro, who till now forbore to speak,

Smiled scornfully, and said, “ Within my call, A thousand scimitars await the word;(?) Put up, young man, put up your silly sword.”


And Haidée clung around him; “ Juan, 't is

'Tis Lambro— 't is my father! Kneel with me He will forgive us — yes —it must be --yes. Oh! dearest father, in this

agony Of pleasure and of pain — even while I kiss

Thy garment's hem with transport, can it be That doubt should mingle with my filial joy ? Deal with me as thou wilt, but spare

this boy."

(1) [MS. — “ I have seen such — but they o'erthrew my mind."] (2) [MS. "A thousand sharper sabres wait the word.”]


High and inscrutable the old man stood,

Calm in his voice, and calm within his eye-
Not always signs with him of calmest mood :

He look'd upon her, but gave no reply;
Then turn'd to Juan, in whose cheek the blood

Oft came and went, as there resolved to die;
In arms, at least, he stood, in act to spring
On the first foe whom Lambro's call might bring.


“ Young man, your sword;" so Lambro once more

said: Juan replied, “ Not while this arm is free.” The old man's cheek grew pale, but not with dread,

And drawing from his belt a pistol, he Replied, “ Your blood be then on your own head.”

Then look'd close at the flint, as if to see 'Twas fresh—for he had lately used the lockAnd next proceeded quietly to cock.


It has a strange quick jar upon the ear,

That cocking of a pistol, when you know A moment more will bring the sight to bear

Upon your person, twelve yards off, or so;
A gentlemanly distance, not too near,

If you have got a former friend for foe;
But after being fired at once or twice,
The ear becomes more Irish, and less nice.


Lambro presented, and one instant more

Had stopp'd this Canto, and Don Juan's breath, When Haidée threw herself her boy before ;

Stern as her sire: “On me,” she cried, “ let death Descend - the fault is mine; this fatal shore

He found—but sought not. I have pledged my I love him-I will die with him: I knew [faith; Your nature’s firmness—know your daughter's too."


A minute past, and she had been all tears, (1)

And tenderness, and infancy; but now
She stood as one who champion'd human fears-

Pale, statue-like, and stern, she woo'd the blow; And tall beyond her sex, and their compeers,

She drew up to her height, as if to show
A fairer mark; and with a fix'd eye scann'd
Her father's face--but never stopp'd his hand.


He gazed on her, and she on him; 't was strange

How like they look'd! the expression was the Serenely savage, with a little change [same;

In the large dark eye's mutual-darted flame; For she, too, was as one who could avenge,

If cause should be -a lioness, though tame, Her father's blood before her father's face Boild up, and proved her truly of his race.

(1) [MS. — “But a few moments - she had been all tears."]


I said they were alike, their features and

Their stature, differing but in sex and years ; Even to the delicacy of their hand (1)

There was resemblance, such as true blood wears ; And now to see them, thus divided, stand

In fix'd ferocity, when joyous tears, And sweet sensations, should have welcomed both, Show what the passions are in their full growth.


The father paused a moment, then withdrew

His weapon, and replaced it; but stood still, And looking on her, as to look her through, [ill;

“ Not I,” he said, “ have sought this stranger's Not I have made this desolation : few

Would bear such outrage, and forbear to kill ;
But I must do my duty-how thou hast
Done thine, the present vouches for the past.()


“ Let him disarm; or, by my father's head,

His own shall roll before you like a ball !” He raised his whistle, as the word he said,

And blew, another answer'd to the call,

(1) [The reader will observe a curious mark of propinquity which the poet notices, with respect to the hands of the father and daughter. Lord Byron, we suspect, is indebted for the first hint of this to Ali Pacha, who, by the bye, is the original of Lambro; for, when his lordship was introduced, with his friend Hobhouse, to that agreeable-mannered tyrant, the vizier said that he knew he was the Megalos Anthropos (i.e. the Great Man), by the smallness of his ears and hands. – Galt.] (2) [MS. — “ And if I did my duty as thou hast,

This hour were thine, and thy young minion's last.”]

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