And wet, and cold, and lifeless at her feet, Pale as the foam that frothed on his dead brow, Which she essayed in vain to clear, (how sweet Were once her cares, how idle seemed they now!) Lay Juan, nor could aught renew the beat Of his quenched heart: and the sea dirges low Rang in her sad ears like a Mermaid's song, And that brief dream appeared a life too long. XXXV. And gazing on the dead, she thought his face Faded, or altered into something new-- Like to her Father's features, till each trace More like and like to Lambro's aspect grew-- With all his keen worn look and Grecian grace; And starting, she awoke, and what to view? Oh! Powers of Heaven! what dark eye meets she there? 'T is--'t is her Father's--fixed upon the pair! XXXVI. Then shrieking, she arose, and shrieking fell, With joy and sorrow, hope and fear, to see Him whom she deemed a habitant where dwell The ocean-buried, risen from death, to be Perchance the death of one she loved too well: Dear as her father had been to Haidée, It was a moment of that awful kind-- I have seen such--but must not call to mind. XXXVII. Up Juan sprang to Haidée's bitter shriek, And caught her falling, and from off the wall Snatched down his sabre, in hot haste to wreak Vengeance on him who was the cause of all: Then Lambro, who till now forbore to speak, Smiled scornfully, and said, "Within my call, A thousand scimitars await the word; Put up, young man, put up your silly sword." XXXVIII. And Haidée clung around him; "Juan, 't is-- 'T is Lambro--'t is my father! Kneel with me-- He will forgive us--yes--it must be--yes. Oh! dearest father, in this agony Of pleasure and of pain--even while I kiss Thy garment's hem with transport, can it be That doubt should mingle with my filial joy? Deal with me as thou wilt, but spare this boy." XXXIX. High and inscrutable the old man stood, Calm in his voice, and calm within his eye-- Not always signs with him of calmest mood: He looked upon her, but gave no reply; Then turned to Juan, in whose cheek the blood Oft came and went, as there resolved to die; In arms, at least, he stood, in act to spring On the first foe whom Lambro's call might bring. XL. "Young man, your sword;" so Lambro once more said: Juan replied, "Not while this arm is free." The old man's cheek grew pale, but not with dread, And drawing from his belt a pistol he Replied, "Your blood be then on your own head." Then looked close at the flint, as if to see 'T was fresh--for he had lately used the lock-- And next proceeded quietly to cock. XLI.