and St. Michael's Cave, and the Devil's Tongue. ("What a combination!" ejaculated the Moslem.) He admired the Almeida ;* but with scorn he viewed the ignoble statue of the gallant Heathfield, (and long afterwards did he recognise a twin production at Brighton). Here then he drew his bills on the Pacha;and lading himself with fruits, and wines, and doubloons; and saluting the Governor in most irregular time, and evincing his liberality and contempt of ammunition by increasing the effect of his courtesy in the gratuitous loan of two balls (having forgotten that the pieces were loaded); and cursing the Jews and the Jewesses' perukes, while the white cloud spread itself over the rock's summit, announcing the coming of the easterly wind, he braved the Bâb-el-Zakac, the gate of the road, and at sunset he beheld, for the first time, the ocean, which extended thousands of miles before him, and to north and south. At least so said Panajotti; but Panajotti was such a liar, who could believe him!—that peopling of Candia before the Hegira was quite enough to show what he was ;-however, in redemption of his want of truth, it was to be confessed that he was an able pilot (witness their late success ful voyage), and that was every thing. Now was there counsel, and advisement, and reflection, and discussion; but at length it was all decided by Ismael's "Billab," and "Birmillah," (in Gud, and by God's order ;) and, after many days, they happily found themselves at the Island of Madeira; but here they learned that they had gone some small matter out of the way, and warmly did Ismael reproach Panajotti; but, as he cooled, he recollected that the wisest might be at times deceived, and there was that astonishing voyage from Malta to Gibralter in barely more than three months! and then the wine where he was, was good, and the English merchants kind and hospitable; and he ate of the ananas and

orange, and drank the cheering liquor. He took some lessons, too, in English; and showed his progress, on taking leave of the Governor, by saying, "How you do; I hope;" while the Governor replied, in Portuguese, to what he deemed some Oriental compliment in the pure Arabic of the Moslem.

Now, having inquired their course, they steered them north, and in some few days they came to England ;— at least Panajotti swore by the Panagia and St. George! St. Spiridion and St. Dionysius, that it could be nought else than England, for he had been to London, and must know. But Ismael had his doubts, for was not England larger? he had heard so. Then he took his chart, and examined the many isles he saw; certainly, there might be Great Britain, and Ireland, and the Isle of Wight; yet there were more and more; possibly, the Orkneys, and Hebrides, and Shetland Isles, and Man, and Anglesey; but there were more yet, and without they were also the West Indies, really Ismael could not make out what they were. They did not at all correspond with his notions of our land, so he whiffed the argillé ; but they entered a port, and then he learned the islands were the Azores, and the city Angra. But there were more fruits and wine; and "God was great, and Mohammed was his prophet ;" and there some days they stayed them, ere they set sail once more.

It was a lovely night, but moonless; a current bore them swiftly onward, and seemingly they had entered a river, and that a mighty one; "Surely the tide was strong! What could it be? It might be the Thames." But Panajotti was quite at a loss here, and his calculations fearfully disordered. "Yet the Thames it might be," and he chuckled at the thought ;-but somehow, "had they not arrived too soon?" There was the rub.-"Leave it to Allah and daylight," said Ismael,

quietly; and, as daylight broke, "Allah! Allah-homa!" exclaimed Ismael, as he rubbed his eyes, "but it bear eth much resemblance to Gibralter." On they went; and, to be on the sure side, although it might scarcely be, they saluted the town; and the town, most vehemently surprised, returned the compliment; for it was truly nothing else than Gibralter, and the General and his aids du camp, and merchants, and Jews and Jewesses' perukes. How did Ismael storm! but Panajotti swore that it was the current; and, in sooth, Panajotti had reason, so to the current they gave the blame.

They were all at sea again, although the second time upon the ocean. But now they betook them to the north, instead of the south; and Panajotti grew in favour with Ismael, by repeated and unquestionable proofs he gave of skill and science. They visited Cadiz; and would actually have steered up the Guadalquivir (to avoid, probably, the national reproach of, "Those who have not Seville seen;") but they were soon set to rights. The wind was fair, and gaily they went onwards, leaving Portugal and Spain behind, until they got into the Bay of Biscay, and there a fearful storm came on. Ismael grew sadly sick, and Panajotti confounded, and in a most solemn fright; the ship made water fast; the pumps were plied; the Greeks knelt to a print of St. Spiridion; the Maltese vowed vows to the Virgin and St. John;-a Jew on board was sadly off here ;-the Turks called on the Prophet; winds roared; the topmast went ; sails were split; and all was horror, confusion, and dismay.

At Bourdeaux (with the permission of Bonaparte) they stopped to refit. Panajotti's wits were terribly shattered, so an English prisoner was given them as a pilot; the Gironde pushed them out, and once more they tried it. "It was the month Muharram when we left Alexandria," mused Is

mael, as he sate on deck. "Muharram, (including Safer) one; Ribeah (the first) two; the second Ribeah, three; Giomada (the first) four ; Giomada (the second) five; Giomada (the third) siz ;-Regeb, seven ; Schaban, eight. Glory to Allah and the Prophet! eight, eight months only; and the new pilot says that we are between France and England. Prodigious! by Alaksa! What a pity Panajotti should be crazed, for we might yet have arrived within the year. There is Ramadan, one; Schawal, two; Doul Kadah, three; Doul Hegiagh, four; but that may scarcely be! What has been ordained must be- But what was Ismael's surprise when, but two days after, even in the very commencement of Ramadan, he was told that the tall white cliffs he gazed upon were the coast of England. What vessels sailing on every side! what forts, and towns, and villages; and noise, and crowds, and bustle, and confusion! "It was the meeting of Al Azab ;*-the congregation of earth's many nations!"

Ismael ever left much for fancy to supply in the history of his weary way, as farther than the space of time has been recorded, he was little disposed to dwell upon its secrets. We must now proceed to other circumstances, on which he had less difficulty to dilate.

It was in the neighborhood of Ratcliffe Highway that, on his arrival in England, Ismael took up his abode, little aware of the factitious distinetions which fashion has ordained between the component parts of the metropolis; but duly sensible to the substantial comforts attending even the ordinary houses of entertainment in London, and the real luxuries of carpets and curtains, good beds, bright fires, cleanliness, civility, and attention; all rendered still more acceptable by the fatigue and tedium of a lengthened and painful voyage. Greatly did he relish his position, as he crossed his legs upon a sofa, after

his nine months' wanderings upon the waters and he doubted not but that he was suited appropriately to his own rank and mission, and the more than viceregal dignity of his Egyptian master. His credentials were duly forwarded; and early was he advertized that his reception by the Prince Regent would have place. He arrived punctual at the appointed day and hour at Carlton-house. His dress was rich and elegant: the ample folds of his turban were of exquisitely wrought silk: his scymitar hung before him suspended to a massive chain of gold; on his vest were the anchor and the crescent, in brilliants of great size and beauty; to which were added the lofty and imposing figure of the Turk himself-his features marked by an expression of firmness and resolution, which was however tempered by a peculiar air of mildness; and with his pale face, full eye and dark mustachio, he would, independently of his nation and costume, have been an object of regard, curiosity, and admiration. His step was slow and firm, and grave; and most graceful was his reverence as placing his right hand to his breast he raised the other to his turban; and who might better appreciate what was fit in manner than he before whom he stood? It is said that the Prince was particularly struck with his Egyptian visitor; and, after discoursing with him, recommended him to the attentions of one of his royal brothers who was standing near. He was now encircled by all that was great and noble; and they listened in silence to the reply he would furnish to the Duke's inquiry of his residence. "It is the Pig and Whistle! (or some such strange sign of contrasted harmony) at Wapping." This was too much; however, an explanation was come to. It was found that it was rather erroneous confidence in the recommendation of Panajotti, than predilection, which had placed him there; his removal to the West was soon resolved upon; there he was installed and treated with honour 19 ATHENEUM, VOL. 9, 2d series.

and hospitality by his numerous friends.

Ismael always spoke with much gratitude of the testimonies of friendship and respect he had received in England, and was particularly partial to the nation. He often mentioned that he had never met there with insult but once, and that was at a dinner, where, after recounting his travels, a gentlemen at table observed to him that " he was a Cosmopolite." Ismael, however, pardoned whatever of offence he might impute to the epithet, as rather the result of indiscretion than intention.

Acting as agent for the Pacha of Egypt in one of the islands of the Mediterranean, where the embarrassments of those who had dealt with him had prevented his remitting the amount of sales of Egyptian produce to his master as early as was requisite, he was suddenly recalled from his situation. "Ah! the Pacha eannot do without your advice," observed a friend, in alluding to his departure. "Yes; the Pacha without doubt has need of my head," replied the apathetic Turk.

It was in the road of Corfu that, while his vessel lay at anchor, a violent storm occurred, and the only chance of saving her was by a Greek vessel allowing him space to remove to another station. Easily as this might have been effected, the Greek refused, and Ismael being obliged to cut his cable, brought up his vessel, as mariners term it; but not before that of the recusant Greek had gone down. The cargo of the Greek was valuable, and his sole property; he sought redress at law for his proper obstinacy, but after many decisions his claim was just!y dismissed. Never was fury equal to his; he sought Ismael in public; every vile and degrading epithet was bestowed upon him; but the calm Moslem answered not to, nor even seemed to notice his indignation or abuse. The wrath of the Greek became augmented by the Turk's indifference; until, mindful only of his presumed wrongs, and forgetful of Ismael's force, his eye

flashing fire, the foam bursting from his mouth, he raised his arm to strike. All eyes were turned towards Ismael; he had paused, and ere the blow fell, he extended-his open snuff-box to the maddened Greek, calmly and mildly. This was too much for the latter; his arm fell by his side; his muscles became suddenly relaxed; he gasped for breath, and casting a glance at his foe, in which astonishment prevailed, rushed from the place, and never again addressed him. Ismael Gibralter is said to have been a Constantinopolitan by birth, and carried to Egypt when young, where he had passed the prime of

life ere he attained rank and distinction. He was intrusted by the Pacha with the purchase of vessels and stores in England, Sweden, and elsewhere, which he effected with skill and success. He spoke Italian fluently, and somewhat of French and English. He was tall of form, and spare, but evidently powerful of limb. His manners were mild and elegant. He was true, honourable, and generous; and esteemed by all who knew him. On the insurrection of the Greeks he was appointed Amir-alim (whence the French amiral and our admiral) to the Pacha, and heroically fell in battle in 1824, at an advanced age.

SHE dwelt in proud Venetian halls,
'Midst forms that breathed from the pictured
walls;

But a glow of beauty like her own,
There had no dream of the painter thrown.
Lit from within was her noble brow,

As an urn, whence rays from a lamp may flow;

Her young, clear cheek, had a changeful hue,

As if ye might see how the soul wrought through;

And every flash of her fervent eye,
Seem'd the bright wakening of Poesy.

Even thus it was!-from her childhood's years,

A being of sudden smiles and tears,-
Passionate visions, quick light and shade,
Such was that high-born Italian maid!
And the spirit of song in her bosom-cell,
Dwelt, as the odours in violets dwell,-
Or as the sounds in the Eolian strings,—
Or in aspen-leaves the quiverings;
There, ever there, with the life enshrined,
And waiting the call of the faintest wind.

SHELLEY.

For her spirit, as over her lyre's full chord,
All, all on a happy love was pour'd!
How loves the heart, whence the stream of
song

And life, all the beauty of life, is o'er! The bark of her lover hath touched the strand,

strong?

How loves a heart, which hath never proved One breath of the world?-Even so she loved!

Blest, though the Lord of her soul afar,
Was charging the foremost in Moslem war,
Bearing the flag of St. Marks on high,
As a ruling star in the Grecian sky.
Proud music breathed in her song, when
Fame

Gave a tone more thrilling to his name; And her trust in his love was a woman's faith

Perfect, and fearing no change but death.

But the fields are won from the Ottoman host,

In the land that quell'd the Persian's boast,
And a thousand hearts in Venice burn,
For the day of triumph and return!
-The day is come! the flashing deep
Foams where the galleys of Victory sweep;
And the sceptred City of the wave,
With her festal splendour greets the brave;
Cymbal and clarion, and voice, around,
Make the air one stream of exulting sound,
While the beautiful, with their sunny smiles,
Look from each hall of the hundred isles.

But happiest and brightest that day of all, Robed for her warrior's festival, Moving a Queen 'midst the radiant throng, Was She, th' inspired one, the Maid of Song! The lute he loved on her arm she bore, As she rush'd in her joy to the crowded shore;

With a hue on her cheek like the damask glow

By the sunset given unto mountain snow, And her eye all fill'd with the spirit's play, Like the flash of a gem to the changeful day, And her long hair waving in ringlets bright— So came that being of Hope and Light! -One moment, Erminia! one moment more,

grace

Accorded well with the Grecian face,
And the eye, in its clear soft darkness meek,
And the lashes that droop'd o'er a pale rose
cheek;

And he look'd on that beauty with tender pride

The warrior had brought back an Eastern bride!

But how stood She, the Forsaken, there, Struck by the lightning of swift despair? Still, as amazed with grief, she stood, And her cheek to her heart sent back the blood,

And there came from her quivering lip no word

Only the fall of her lute was heard,
As it dropt from her hand at her rival's feet,
Into fragments, whose dying thrill was

sweet!

What more remaineth? her day was done; Her fate and the Broken Lute's were one! The light, the vision, the gift of power, Pass'd from her soul in that mortal hour, Like the rich sound from the shatter'd string,

Whence the gush of sweetness no more might spring!

As an eagle struck in his upward flight,
So was her hope from its radiant height,
And her song went with it for evermore,
A gladness taken from sea and shore !
She had moved to the echoing sound of
fame-

Silently, silently, died her name!
Silently melted her life away,

As ye have seen a young flower decay,
Or a lamp that hath swiftly burn'd, expire,
Or a bright stream shrink from the suminer's

fire,

Leaving the channel all dry and muteWoe for the Broken Heart and Lute!

On! there is a dream of early youth,
And it never comes again;
"Tis a vision of light, of life, and truth,
That flits across the brain:

And love is the theme of that early dream,
So wild, so warm, so new,

That in all our after years I deem,
That early dream we rue.

Oh! there is a dream of maturer years,
More turbulent by far;

"Tis a vision of blood, and of woman's tears,
For the theme of that dream is war:
And we toil in the field of danger and death,
And shout in the battle array,

Till we find that fame is a bodyless breath,
That vanisheth away.

Oh! there is a dream of hoary age,
'Tis a vision of gold in store-
Of sums noted down on the figured page,
To be counted o'er and o'er :
And we fondly trust in our glittering dust,
As a refuge from grief and pain,
Till our limbs are laid on that last dark bed,
Where the wealth of the world is vain.
And is it thus, from man's birth to his grave,
In the path which all are treading?
Is there naught in that long career to save
From remorse and self-upbraiding?
Oh, yes! there's a dream so pure, so bright,
That the being to whom it is given,
Hath bathed in a sea of living light-

And the theme of that dream is Heaven.