THE CORSAIR’S VICTIM. (AN EXTRACT FROM “ZILLAH.”) BY WM. H. C. HOSMER. When Night, upon her starry throne, Held undisputed sway and lone, And moonlight to the trembling wave A soft but spectral radiance gave, He seized, with iron grasp, his chain, As if endued with giant strength, And after many efforts vain, While glowing madness fired his brain, From bondage burst at length. The cunning Corsair heard the sound Of strong link breaking, with a clang, And stealing lightly, with one bound, Upon his frenzied victim sprang: His right arm, used to felon deed, The Corsair raised with ready skill— One thrust of his stiletto freed The crazed one from his load of ill. The pleading look and wild appeal Of Zillah could not stay the steel; She saw him fall, and from his side The red stream gush in bubbling tide, Then fell herself, as _if the blade_ _A sheath of her own breast had made;_ While fearfully his spouting gore The white robe reddened that she wore. Her ear heard not the gurgling sound Of hungry waters closing round, As hastily the ruffian cast His victim to the ocean vast, Or marked the grim, exulting smile That lighted up his face the while: Extended on the deck she lay, As if the war of life was over, As if her soul had fled away To realms of never-ending day, To join the spirit of her lover.