Where waves might wash, and seals might breed and lurk;
Her hair was dripping, and the very balls
Of her black eyes seemed turned to tears, and mirk
The sharp rocks looked below each drop they caught,
Which froze to marble as it fell—she thought.370
XXXIV
And wet, and cold, and lifeless at her feet,
Pale as the foam that frothed on his dead brow,
Which she essayed in vain to clear, (how sweet
Were once her cares, how idle seemed they now!)
Lay Juan, nor could aught renew the beat
Of his quenched heart: and the sea dirges low
Rang in her sad ears like a Mermaid’s song,
And that brief dream appeared a life too long.
XXXV
And gazing on the dead, she thought his face
Faded, or altered 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—fixed upon the pair!
XXXVI
Then shrieking, she arose, and shrieking fell,
With joy and sorrow, hope and fear, to see
Him whom she deemed 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.
XXXVII
Up Juan sprang to Haidée’s bitter shriek,
And caught her falling, and from off the wall
Snatched 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.”
XXXVIII
And Haidée clung around him; “Juan, ’tis—
’Tis Lambro—’tis 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.”
XXXIX
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 looked upon her, but gave no reply;
Then turned 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.
XL
“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 looked close at the flint, as if to see
’Twas fresh—for he had lately used the lock—
And next proceeded quietly to cock.
XLI
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.
XLII
Lambro presented, and one instant more
Had stopped 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 faith;
I love him—I will die with him: I knew
Your nature’s firmness—know your daughter’s too.”
XLIII
A minute past, and she had been all tears,
And tenderness, and infancy; but now
She stood as one who championed human fears—
Pale, statue-like, and stern, she wooed 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 fixed eye scanned
Her Father’s face—but never stopped his hand.
XLIV
He gazed on her, and she on him; ’twas strange
How like they looked! the expression was the same;
Serenely savage, with a little change
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
Boiled up, and proved her truly of his race.
XLV
I said they were alike, their features and
Their stature, differing but in sex and years;
Even to the delicacy of their hand371
There was resemblance, such as true blood wears;
And now to see them, thus divided, stand
In fixed ferocity, when joyous tears
And sweet sensations should have welcomed both,
Shows what the passions are in their full growth.
XLVI
The father paused a moment, then withdrew
His weapon, and replaced it; but stood still,
And looking on her, as to look her through,
“Not I,” he said, “have sought this stranger’s ill;
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.372
XLVII
“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 answered to the call,
And rushing in disorderly, though led,
And armed from boot to turban, one and all,
Some twenty of his train came, rank on rank;
He gave the word—“Arrest or slay the Frank.”
XLVIII
Then, with a sudden movement, he withdrew
His daughter; while compressed within his clasp,
’Twixt her and Juan interposed the crew;
In vain she struggled in her father’s grasp—
His arms were like a serpent’s coil: then flew
Upon their prey, as darts an angry asp,
The file of pirates—save the foremost, who
Had fallen, with his right shoulder half cut through.
XLIX
The second
