from Canto VI

101

Gulbeyaz was no model of true patience,
     Nor much disposed to wait in word or deed;
She liked quick answers in all conversations;
     And when she saw him stumbling like a steed
In his replies, she puzzled him for fresh ones;
     And as his speech grew still more broken-kneed,
Her cheek began to flush, her eyes to sparkle,
And her proud brow’s blue veins to swell and darkle.

102

When Baba saw these symptoms, which he knew
    To bode him no great good, he deprecated
Her anger, and beseech’d she’d hear him through—
     He could not help the thing which he related:
Then out it came at length, that to Dud
     Juan was given in charge, as hath been stated;
But not by Baba’s fault, he said, and swore on
The holy camel’s hump, besides the Koran.

103

The chief dame of the Oda, upon whom
     The discipline of the whole harem bore,
As soon as they re-entered their own room,
    For Baba’s function stopt short at the door,
Had settled all; nor could he then presume
     (The aforesaid Baba) just then to do more,
Without exciting such suspicion as
Might make the matter still worse than it was.

104

He hoped, indeed he thought he could be sure
     Juan had not betrayed himself; in fact
‘Twas certain that his conduct had been pure,
     Because a foolish or imprudent act
Would not alone have made him insecure,
     But ended in his being found out, and sacked,
And thrown into the sea.—Thus Baba spoke
Of all save Dud’s dream, which was no joke.

105

This he discreetly kept in the back ground,
     And talked away, and might have talked till now,
For any further answer that he found,
     So deep an anguish wrung Gulbeyaz’ brow;
Her cheek turned ashes, ears rung, brain whirled round
     As if she had received a sudden blow,
And the heart’s dew of pain sprang fast and chilly
O’er her fair front, like Morning’s on a lily.

106

Although she was not of the fainting sort,
     Baba thought she would faint, but there he erred;—
It was but a convulsion, which though short
     Can never be described; we all have heard,
And some of us have felt thus “all amort,”
     When things beyond the common have occurred;—
Gulbeyaz proved in that brief agony
What she could ne’er express—then how should I?

107

She stood a moment as a Pythoness
     Stands on her tripod, agonized, and full
Of Inspiration gathered from Distress,
     When all the heart-strings like wild horses pull
The heart asunder;—then, as more or less
     Their speed abated or their strength grew dull,
She sunk down on her seat by slow degrees,
And bowed her throbbing head o’er trembling knees.

108

Her face declined and was unseen; her hair
     Fell in long tresses like the weeping willow,
Sweeping the marble underneath her chair,
     Or rather sofa (for it was all pillow,
A low, soft Ottoman) and black Despair
     Stirred up and down her bosom like a billow,
Which rushes to some shore whose shingles check
Its farther course, but must receive its wreck.

109

Her head hung down, and her long hair in stooping
     Concealed her features better than a veil;
And one hand o’er the Ottoman lay drooping,
    White, waxen, and as alabaster pale:
Would that I were a painter! to be grouping
     All that a poet drags into detail!
Oh that my words were colours! but their tints
May serve perhaps as outlines or slight hints.

110

Baba, who knew by experience when to talk
     And when to hold its tongue, now held it till
This passion might blow o’er, nor dared to balk
     Gulbeyaz’ taciturn or speaking will.
At length she rose up, and began to walk
     Slowly along the room, but silent still,
And her brow cleared, but not her troubled eye;
The Wind was down, but still the Sea ran high.