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The Isle of Devils

A Historical Tale, Funnded on an Anecdote in the Annals of Portugal. (From an unpublished Manuscript.) By M. G. Lewis

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IV.

Hush'd is the storm—the Heavens no longer frown,
And o'er that spot where late the boat went down;
All bright and smiling glides the treacherous wave,
Like sunshine playing on a new made grave.
Full rose the watery moon; it showed a plank
To which all deadly pale, with tresses dank;
And robes of white (o'er which the storm had flung,
Loose wreaths of ocean flowers,) unconscious hung
A fair frail form—'Twas Irza! to the shore
Each following wave the virgin nearer bore;
And now the mountain surge o'erwhelm'd the land,
And flying left her on the wished for strand.

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Then hope and love of life her powers renew,
Swift towards a cliff she speeds which towers in view;
Nor waits the wave's return—and now again,
Safe on the shore and rescued from the main;
Prostrate she falls and thanks the Sire of life,
Whose arm had saved her from the billowy strife.
That duty done—she rose, and gazed around;
Mossed are the rocks, and flowers bestrew the ground.
Not distant far, a group of fragrant trees,
Bend with their golden fruit—the ocean breeze
Shakes a gigantic palm, which o'er a cave
Its dark green foliage spreads; and wildly wave
Their drooping wreaths, all gemmed with midnight dews,
A thousand creeping plants of thousand hues;
Full flashed the dreadful thought on Irza's view,
That cave—those giant trees—that palm she knew!
Then from her lips for ever fled the smile,
“Mother of God!” she shrieked, “The Demon Isle.”
Long on a broken cragg she knelt and prayed,
And called on every Saint for strength and aid;
Then speechless, senseless laid, when lo!
Strange mutterings near her, roused from torpid woe
Her soul to fresh alarms—her head she reared,
And near her face, a hideous face appeared—
But strait 'twas gone. In trembling haste she rose,
And saw a ring of monstrous dwarfs enclose
Her rugged couch—Not Tenier's hand could paint,
Forms more grotesque to scare the tempted saint;
Than here (as in they prest in circling throng)
With gnashing teeth, seemed for her blood to long,
And grinned, and glared, and gloated! Quicker grew
Her breath—Death hemmed her round—as yet 'tis true
Far off they kept—but soon more daring grown,
More near they crept, oft sharp'ning on some stone,
Their long crook'd claws; and still as on they came,
They screeched and chattered—and their eyes of flame
Twinkling and giggling, told what pleasure grim,
They'd feel to rack and rend her, limb from limb;
“Heaven take my soul!” she cried—when! hark a moan,
So full, so sad, so strange—not shriek—not groan—
Something scarce earthly, breathed above her head,
'Twas heard; and instant every imp was fled.
What was that sound? What pitying saint from high,
Had stooped to save her? now to Heaven her eye,
Grateful she raised—Almighty Powers! a form,
Gigantic as the Palm—black as the storm;
All shagged with hair, wild, strange in shape and show,
Towered on the loftiest cliff and gazed below.
On her he gazed, and gazed, so fixed, so hard,
Like knights of bronze some hero's tomb who guard;
Bright wreaths of scarlet plumes his temples crown'd;
And round his temples, arms, and neck, were wound,

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Unnumbered grassy strings of Chrystals bright,
And shells, and spars, and berries, red and white.
On her he gazed—and floods of sable fires,
Rolled his huge eyes, and spoke his fierce desires;
As on his club (a torn-up limb) he leaned.
“Help Heaven!” (thought Irza,) “'tis the master Fiend!
Not long he paused—he now with one quick bound,
Sprang from the cliff and lighted on the ground.
Back flew the maid in terror, but her fear
Was needless; humbly, slowly, crept he near,
Then kissed the ground—his club before her laid,
And of his neck a footstool would have made.
But from his touch she shrunk, he raised his head,
And saw her limbs convulsed—her face all dread;
And felt the cause his presence: sad and slow,
He rose, resumed his club, and turned to go.
Reproachful was his look, but still 'twas kind!
He climed the rock, but oft he gazed behind.
He reached the cave; one look below he threw,
Plaintive again he moaned, and with slow steps withdrew.