The Tale of Muley-Zeydan

HIGH on the rampart MULEY-ZEYDAN stood,
Where the broad main Algiers' strong tow'rs o'erlook,
Pond'ring awhile with fixed eye the flood,
Then to his son his painful silence broke:

Thou seest, my boy, yon tall and garish fleet,
How proud their streamers flaunt it to the air,
There Gallic chiefs in warlike councils meet,
And to assail these rugged walls prepare.

What does their master, royal LOUIS, claim?
Only to set war's wretched captives free,
By cartel to conclude the date of shame,
And give the valiant air and liberty.

The bloody bus'ness of the battle o'er,
The clarion mute, the falchion thrown aside,
The loss of freedom why should they deplore,
And saucy taunts of servile guards abide?

Why daily pore, with dim, desponding eye,
On the worn flint, or damp-impaired wall,
Or thro' the chink one scanty gleam descry
Of cheering light, which God gave free to all?

"The bloody bus'ness of the battle o'er,"
Each party should accord a full release,
Each captive-mourner to his friends restore,
And with the slaughter bid his suff'rings cease.

Yet this our DEY, severe of soul, denies,
His hands refuse to loose the galling chain;
But keep th'imprison'd brave to vent their sighs,
Far from their home, unpitied, and in vain.

Nay more—his unrelenting heart commands
What reason, manhood, tremble but to hear!
Soon as the Gallic fleet her ports expands,
And with their fatal thunders fills the air,

Before each cannon, which our tow'rs desends,
A captive Frenchman pinion'd shall be plac'd,
Thence to be render'd to their Christian friends,
Or stain with mangled limbs the wat'ry waste.

And must CHOISEUL, the virtuous and the brave,
Enrich'd with ev'ry elegance of mind,
Among the groupe, an undistinguish'd slave,
To such a barb'rous sentence be consign'd?

CHOISEUL—(who, when I lay, as now doth he,
An helpless captive to the chance of war,
No means to soften my calamity,
From thy dear mother's care removed far),

CHOISEUL beheld me with compassion's eye,
He hasten'd to relieve a stranger's woes,
To Nature's ev'ry craving dealt supply,
And taught my throbbing heart to feel repose.

When sickness bound me to a restless bed,
CHOISEUL's assiduous hand was ever near,
At closing night he bound my aching head,
And watch'd my wakings with a brother's care.

And shall this man of matchless virtue sink
To rancour and barbarity a prey?
No—let me snatch him from destruction's brink,
By supplication to our rigid DEY.

See, where he stands on yonder turret's height,
To give the signal for his own decree,
And lo! indignant, frowning at his fate,
CHOISEUL first brought for horrid destiny.

"Swift let me fly"—before the obdurate chief
Prostrate he plung'd—"O spare him, spare my friend,
"Regard these tears, this agony of grief,
"And at thy vet'ran's suit his fate suspend!

"Have not we been in war together rear'd,
"Ere since our arms a scymitar could wield,
"Then by the toils, the dangers we have shar'd,
"In watchful councils, and th'ensanguin'd field.

"Kneeling I thus implore thee, grant the life
"Of brave CHOISEUL; call back that dreadful morn,
"When struggling in the battle's hottest strife,
"And by the tide of conquest overborne,

"Thy fav'rite son was rescued by this hand
"From the gigantic Moor's descending sword;
"Didst thou not then, to whatsoe'er demand
"I might exact, accord thy plighted word?

"Ne'er did I 'vail me of that service done,
"Ne'er, ne'er, till now, for retribution bend;
"Then do not pause, but grant thy warrior's boon,
"Regard thy plighted word, and save my friend."

Fierce from the swelling eye-ball of the DEY
Shot forth indignant sparks of hottest ire,
As 'twixt the clouds red meteors force their way,
And fill the firmament with gleams of fire.

"Is it too much to grant this pious grace?
"One only boon is left me then to ask;
"Bind, bind me to him in a close embrace,
"And bid the cannoneer perform his task.

"See, at the fatal point my friend they place,
"Best of the good, the bravest of the brave!
"Thus, thus, I clasp him in this last embrace,
"And perish with the man I could not save."

The DEY abhors to give the cruel sign,
Down to the platform rushing he descends,
Mild drops of mercy on his visage shine,
As with amazement he surveys the friends.

"What sense is this," the alter'd man exclaims,
"What warmth, unfelt till now, pervades my heart?
"The wondrous ardour which your souls inflames,
"To me its sudden influence doth impart.

"Untwine that churlish misbeseeming cord!
"Live for each other! long and happy live!
"The mutual transport, which I thus afford,
"Not to my promise, but thy worth I give.

"Ye Gallic chiefs, take ransomeless the rest,
"Bid your bold prows exulting cleave the wave,
"The FORCE OF FRIENDSHIP this barbarian breast
"Hath taught to feel, to pity, and to save."