softened, but subdued;
The evil passions of his youth had made
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."
Soon firmly girded on, and lightly slung,
His belt and cloak were o'er his shoulders flung: 560
"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!"
This said, his brother Pirate's hand he wrung,
Then to his boat with haughty gesture sprung. 570
Flashed the dipt oars, and sparkling with the stroke,
Around the waves' phosphoric[205] brightness broke;
They gain the vessel--on the deck he stands,--
Shrieks the shrill whistle, ply the busy hands--
He 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?
Alas! those eyes beheld his rocky tower,
And live a moment o'er the parting hour; 580
She--his Medora--did she mark the prow?
Ah! never loved he half so much as now!
But much must yet be done ere dawn of day--
Again he mans himself and turns away;
Down to the cabin with Gonsalvo bends,
And there unfolds his plan--his means, and ends;
Before them burns the lamp, and spreads the chart,
And all that speaks and aids the naval art;
They to the midnight watch protract debate;
To anxious eyes what hour is ever late? 590
Meantime, the steady breeze serenely blew,
And fast and falcon-like the vessel flew;
Passed the high headlands of each clustering isle,
To gain their port--long--long ere morning smile:
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 Mosle