Miscellaneous writings of the late Dr. Maginn edited by Dr. Shelton Mackenzie |
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THE GALIONGEE.
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 | Miscellaneous writings of the late Dr. Maginn |  |
236
THE GALIONGEE.
A Fragment of a Turkish Tale.
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Advertisement.—The Author of this tale begs to inform the public, that the scattered fragments which it presents were collected from an improvisatore, who recited during the time that the author drank his fifth cup of Mocha with that civilest of all gentlemen, Ali Pacha.
The Pacha sat in his divan,
With silver-sheathed ataghan;
And call'd to him a Galiongee,
Come lately from the Euxine Sea
To Stamboul; chains were on his feet,
And fetters on his hands were seen,
Because he was a Nazarene:
When, duly making reverence meet,
With haughty glance on that divan,
And curling lip, he thus began:
With silver-sheathed ataghan;
And call'd to him a Galiongee,
Come lately from the Euxine Sea
To Stamboul; chains were on his feet,
And fetters on his hands were seen,
Because he was a Nazarene:
When, duly making reverence meet,
With haughty glance on that divan,
And curling lip, he thus began:
“By broad Phingari's silver light,
When sailing at the noon of night,
Bismillah! whom did we descry
But dark corsairs, who, bent on spoil,
Athwart the deep sea ever toil!—
We know their blood-red flags on high:
The Capitan he call'd, belike,
With gesture proud, to bid us strike,
And told his Sonbachis to spare
Of not one scalp a single hair,
Though garbs of green showed Emirs there!
It boots not, Pacha, to relate
What souls were sent to Eblis throne,
How Azrael's arrows scatter'd fate,
How wild, wet, wearied, and alone,
When all my crew were drench'd in blood,
Or floated lifeless on the flood,
I fought, unawed, nor e'er thought I
To shout ‘Amaun,’ the craven's cry.—
I took my handkerchief to wipe
My burning brow, and then I took,
With placid hand, my long chibouque,
That is to say, my Turkish pipe,
And having clapp'd it in my cheek,
Disdaining ere a word to speak,
I shouted to the pirate, ‘Now,
You've fairly beat me, I allow,’” &c.
When sailing at the noon of night,
Bismillah! whom did we descry
But dark corsairs, who, bent on spoil,
Athwart the deep sea ever toil!—
We know their blood-red flags on high:
The Capitan he call'd, belike,
With gesture proud, to bid us strike,
And told his Sonbachis to spare
Of not one scalp a single hair,
Though garbs of green showed Emirs there!
It boots not, Pacha, to relate
What souls were sent to Eblis throne,
How Azrael's arrows scatter'd fate,
How wild, wet, wearied, and alone,
When all my crew were drench'd in blood,
Or floated lifeless on the flood,
I fought, unawed, nor e'er thought I
To shout ‘Amaun,’ the craven's cry.—
I took my handkerchief to wipe
My burning brow, and then I took,
With placid hand, my long chibouque,
That is to say, my Turkish pipe,
And having clapp'd it in my cheek,
Disdaining ere a word to speak,
I shouted to the pirate, ‘Now,
You've fairly beat me, I allow,’” &c.
| Miscellaneous writings of the late Dr. Maginn | |