XI. In the high chamber of his highest tower Sate Conrad, fettered in the Pacha's power. His palace perished in the flame--this fort Contained at once his captive and his court. Not much could Conrad of his sentence blame, His foe, if vanquished, had but shared the same:-- Alone he sate--in solitude had scanned His guilty bosom, but that breast he manned: One thought alone he could not--dared not meet-- 980 "Oh, how these tidings will Medora greet?" Then--only then--his clanking hands he raised, And strained with rage the chain on which he gazed; But soon he found, or feigned, or dreamed relief, And smiled in self-derision of his grief, "And now come Torture when it will, or may-- More need of rest to nerve me for the day!" This said, with langour to his mat he crept, And, whatso'er his visions, quickly slept. 'Twas hardly midnight when that fray begun, 990 For Conrad's plans matured, at once were done, And Havoc loathes so much the waste of time, She scarce had left an uncommitted crime. One hour beheld him since the tide he stemmed-- Disguised--discovered--conquering--ta'en--condemned-- A Chief on land--an outlaw on the deep-- Destroying--saving--prisoned--and asleep! XII. He slept in calmest seeming, for his breath[222] Was hushed so deep--Ah! happy if in death! He slept--Who o'er his placid slumber bends? 1000 His foes are gone--and here he hath no friends; Is it some Seraph sent to grant him grace? No,'tis an earthly form with heavenly face! Its white arm raised a lamp--yet gently hid, Lest the ray flash abruptly on the lid Of that closed eye, which opens but to pain, And once unclosed--but once may close again. That form, with eye so dark, and cheek so fair, And auburn waves of gemmed and braided hair; With shape of fairy lightness--naked foot, 1010 That shines like snow, and falls on earth as mute-- Through guards and dunnest night how came it there? Ah! rather ask what will not Woman dare? Whom Youth and Pity lead like thee, Gulnare! She could not sleep--and while the Pacha's rest In muttering dreams yet saw his pirate-guest, She left his side--his signet-ring she bore, Which oft in sport adorned her hand before-- And with it, scarcely questioned, won her way Through drowsy guards that must that sign obey. 1020 Worn out with toil, and tired with changing blows, Their eyes had envied Conrad his repose; And chill and nodding at the turret door, They stretch their listless limbs, and watch no more; Just raised their heads to hail the signet-ring, Nor ask or what or who the sign may bring. XIII.