The Fair and Faithless One of Grailov

UNTO Grailov's town Moostafa-Shem
Mahmud Pasha, the redoubted warrior,
Marched in thunder. He threw down the barrier

Of its brazen gates, and trampled them

Into dust. And, at the sunset hour,
Forty of his Agas ate white bread

In the Hospodar of Grailov's tower;

And, when they had eaten much, they said,

"Allah akbar! — let us have some water
Brought in crystal vases!" But none other
Understood their Scytho-Turkish words

Save the Hospodar's majestic daughter; —

And the Hospodar's majestic daughter,

Turning to her mother, called out, "Mother!
Water, quickly, for these Moslem lords!"

And the water came in crystal vases;

And all drank except the young Abassiz.

He drank not; but turning tow'rds the mother,

Said, " May Allah bless thee, courteous dame!
Would I were thy lovely daughter's brother!

Will she greet me by a fonder name,
That of husband?" And the mother spake,

"If thou jest not, princely Kapitaun,
I feel sorry for thy noble sake,
But my daughter has been plighted long

Unto Carlodzniep of Orlovaun,
Whose hot blood would burn beneath a wrong.

Three new suits of scarlet silk he gave her,
Three deep coffers full of yellow gold,
Three rare diamonds glorious to behold,
Gems whose lustre lends our night-saloon
Kadiance brighter than the sun's at noon;

All these gifts her generous lover gave her,
Wherefore, Aga, spare thy flattering speech,
For this fruit hangs high beyond thy reach;

Maiden once betrothed may not waver."

Sorrow sank like lead into the core

Of Abassiz' heart. He said no more,

Said no more, and closed no eye that night,

But, with Morning's palest blush of light,

Up he rose, and sighing deeply, went

Straightway to the Pasha Mahmud's tent;

And his words were, " Mighty Lord and Master,

May your highness reign a thousand years!

Lo! a maiden, whose bright eyes are spears,
Paulinell, the fair-as-alabaster
Daughter of Smolensk, the Hospodar,

Who transcendeth every damsel here,
As the moon outshines each paler star,
Speaks our language with a silver tongue,

Yet hath been affianced many a year

Unto Carlodzniep of Orlovaun!
WTill Your Highness tolerate such wrong,

While one Moslem sword remains undrawn?"

Thus he spake, made mad by Love's disease;
So the Pasha, on the self-same day,

Bade be called Smolensk, the Hospodar,
And the Pasha's words to him were these,
"Allah kerim! What is this they say?

So thou hast a daughter, Ilospodkr,
Who transcendeth every maid beside,

As the moon outshines each paler star? —
It is well! Thy child shall be my bride!"

Spake the noble father in reply,

"Beautiful my daughter is, in truth,
Beautiful and gentle as the fawn;
But her hand is not for thee to buy:

Promised is she to the gallant youth,
Carlodzniep, the Lord of Orlovaun.

Three new suits of scarlet silk he gave her,
Three deep coffers full of yellow gold,
Three rare diamonds glorious to behold,
Gems whose lustre lends our night-saloon
Radiance brighter than the sun's at noon;

All these gifts her generous lover gave her,
Wherefore, Pasha, spare thy flattering speech,
For this fruit hangs high beyond thy reach;

Maiden once betrothed must not waver."

Silently the Pasha heard the father,

Silently he heard him to the end;
Museful then, as one who seeks to gather
In his wandering thoughts, he stood, but soon

Looking up, spake thus, " Well, then, my friend,
Hearken calmly: I must ask a boon.

As thy daughter's heart may still be free,
Fetch her hither with her lordly lover.
So shall thou and I anon discover

Which the maiden chooseth, him or me."

There he stopped. The father, sad in soul,
Went his way. The gloomiest bodings crept
O'er his upright mind; and, ere he slept
Sent he off to Oarlodzniep a scroll —
"Health and Honour! Be alert, my son,

Else the Pasha robs thee of the bride
Thou hast fondly wooed and fairly won!

Kise with Morning's dawn and come to me;
Thou and I and Paulinell must ride
Over to the Pasha's tent, and there
Shall the maiden's own true lips declare
Which her heart preferreth, him or thee."

He to whom this warning word was written,
Carlodzniep, the Lord of Orlovaun,
Slept not all that night, but, with the dawn,
Fiercely bounding, like a frenzy-smitten
Man, upon his deathblack barb, he rode
Till he reached the Hospodar's abode,

And, before the noontide hour went by,
Stood beside the maiden and her sire
In the Pasha's tent, — a strange dusk fire
Flashing at each moment from his eye.

Brief the Pasha's words were, frank and brief:
"Fairest maiden in this northern land,
Lo! two suitors for thy heart and hand,

One a Servian, one an Othman, Chief,

Carlodzniep and I. Thy will is free.

Choose, then, maiden, either one or other:
Choose whiche'er thou wiliest, him or me."

And the maiden (her manoeuvring mother
Having schooled her overnight) at once
In unfaltering accents made response —

"Rather this green grass with thee, my lord,
Rather thee with only wheat and milk,
Than red wines and beds of damask silk

With a husband of my heart abhorred!"

Here was perfidy! The lightning blood

Froze within the young man's breast and brain
As he listened. For a space he stood

Marble-motionless. But, soon again
All the warrior's pride re-nerved his heart,
And he spake, "False girl! Thus, then, we part!
For this base betrayal was I born!
Be it so! — thy meed is henceforth Scorn.
Were thine hand mine trebly I would spurn it

As a foul, polluted, leprous thing.

Give me back my presents! — that gold ring
On thy finger once was mine: return it!
I would leave thee fetterless and free
In thy bargain — and thine infamy!"

And the maiden, without word or look,
Yielding, slavelike, to the stern command,

Without love, or hate, or anger, took

Off the ring and held it out, — when, lo!

Carlodzniep, with one swift sabre-blow,
Severed from her arm that guilty hand!

And then spake, with calm, but hollow tone —
"Pasha! / have taken what is mine —
Now take tJiou the remnant — it is thine —

Justice inetes to every one his own/'

Wrathful was the Pasha. " What!" he cried,

"Wretch! — thou sheddest blood at my Deewaun?
Mount thy charger! Thou and I must ride

Forth to instant combat!" So they rode,
Mahmud and the Lord of Orlovann,
Out upon the upland. Nor abode
Long in doubt the issue of the strife,
For the Moslem, in his prime of life,

Perished by the arm of Carlodzniep,
Whose avenging sabre then and there
Clave both man and saddle. But the slayer
Never more was known to smile, — or weep.