And hoped _that_ peril might not prove in vain.
He rais'd his iron hand to Heaven, and prayed
One pitying flash to mar the form it made:
His steel and impious prayer attract alike--
The storm rolled onward, and disdained to strike;
Its peal waxed fainter--ceased--he felt alone,
As if some faithless friend had spurned his groan!

VIII.

The midnight passed, and to the massy door
A light step came--it paused--it moved once more;
Slow turns the grating bolt and sullen key: 1440
'Tis as his heart foreboded--that fair She!
Whate'er her sins, to him a Guardian Saint,
And beauteous still as hermit's hope can paint;
Yet changed since last within that cell she came,
More pale her cheek, more tremulous her frame:
On him she cast her dark and hurried eye,
Which spoke before her accents--"Thou must die!
Yes, thou must die--there is but one resource,
The last--the worst--if torture were not worse."

"Lady! I look to none; my lips proclaim 1450
What last proclaimed they--Conrad still the same:
Why should'st thou seek an outlaw's life to spare,
And change the sentence I deserve to bear?
Well have I earned--nor here alone--the meed
Of Seyd's revenge, by many a lawless deed."

"Why should I seek? because--Oh! did'st thou not
Redeem my life from worse than Slavery's lot?
Why should I seek?--hath Misery made thee blind
To the fond workings of a woman's mind?
And must I say?--albeit my heart rebel 1460
With all that Woman feels, but should not tell--
Because--despite thy crimes--that heart is moved:
It feared thee--thanked thee--pitied--maddened--loved.
Reply not, tell not now thy tale again,
Thou lov'st another--and I love in vain:
Though fond as mine her bosom, form more fair,
I rush through peril which she would not dare.
If that thy heart to hers were truly dear,
Were I thine own--thou wert not lonely here:
An outlaw's spouse--and leave her Lord to roam! 1470
What hath such gentle dame to do with home?
But speak not now--o'er thine and o'er my head
Hangs the keen sabre by a single thread;[ib]
If thou hast courage still, and would'st be free,
Receive this poniard--rise and follow me!"

"Aye--in my chains! my steps will gently