Quick at the word they seized him each a torch, And fire the dome from minaret to porch. A stern delight was fixed in Conrad's eye, But sudden sunk--for on his ear the cry Of women struck, and like a deadly knell Knocked at that heart unmoved by Battle's yell. "Oh! burst the Haram--wrong not on your lives One female form--remember--_we_ have wives. On them such outrage Vengeance will repay; 810 Man is our foe, and such 'tis ours to slay: But still we spared--must spare the weaker prey. Oh! I forgot--but Heaven will not forgive If at my word the helpless cease to live; Follow who will--I go--we yet have time Our souls to lighten of at least a crime." He climbs the crackling stair--he bursts the door, Nor feels his feet glow scorching with the floor; His breath choked gasping with the volumed smoke, But still from room to room his way he broke. 820 They search--they find--they save: with lusty arms Each bears a prize of unregarded charms; Calm their loud fears; sustain their sinking frames With all the care defenceless Beauty claims: So well could Conrad tame their fiercest mood, And check the very hands with gore imbrued. But who is she? whom Conrad's arms convey, From reeking pile and combat's wreck, away-- Who but the love of him he dooms to bleed? The Haram queen--but still the slave of Seyd! 830 VI. Brief time had Conrad now to greet Gulnare,[218] Few words to reassure the trembling Fair; For in that pause Compassion snatched from War, The foe before retiring, fast and far, With wonder saw their footsteps unpursued, First slowlier fled--then rallied--then withstood. This Seyd perceives, then first perceives how few, Compared with his, the Corsair's roving crew, And blushes o'er his error, as he eyes The ruin wrought by Panic and Surprise. 840 Alla il Alla! Vengeance swells the cry-- Shame mounts to rage that must atone or die! And flame for flame and blood for blood must tell. The tide of triumph ebbs that flowed too well-- When Wrath returns to renovated strife, And those who fought for conquest strike for life. Conrad beheld the danger--he beheld His followers faint by freshening foes repelled: "One effort--one--to break the circling host!" They form--unite--charge--waver--all is lost! 850 Within a narrower ring compressed, beset, Hopeless, not heartless, strive and struggle yet-- Ah! now they fight in firmest file no more, Hemmed in--cut off--cleft down and trampled o'er; But each strikes singly--silently--and home, And sinks outwearied rather than o'ercome-- His last faint quittance rendering with his breath, Till the blade glimmers in the grasp of Death!