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Better to sink beneath the shock.
· Father! thy days have pass'd in peace,
'Mid counted beads, and countless prayer ; To bid the sins of others cease,
Thyself without a crime or care, Save transient ills that all must bear, Has been thy lot from youth to age ; And thou wilt bless thee from the rage Of passions fierce and uncontrollid, Such as thy penitents unfold, Whose secret sins and sorrows rest Within thy pure and pitying breast. My days, though few, have pass'd below In much of joy, but more of woe ; Yet still in hours of love or strife, I've 'scaped the weariness of life : Now leagued with friends, now girt by foes, I loathed the languor of repose. Now nothing left to love or hate, No more with hope or pride elate, I'd rather be the thing that crawls Most noxious o'er a dungeon's walls, Than pass my dull, unvarying days, Condemn'd to meditate and gaze. Yet, lurks a wish within
my breast For rest - but not to feel 't is rest. Soon shall my fate that wish fulfil ;
And I shall sleep without the dream
may seem :
I've braved it—not for honour's boast;
• I loved her, Friar! nay, adored
But these are words that all can use -
A stain its steel can never lose :
It warm'd the heart of one abhorr'd:
Nor midst my sins such act record ;
The surest pass to Turkish heaven,
I loved her — love will find its way + Through paths where wolves would fear to proy:
And if it dares enough, 't were hard
She died - I dare not tell thee how ;
His doom was seald — he knew it well,
As filed the troop to where they fell ! (1). This superstition of a second hearing (for I never met with downright secondsight in the East) fell once under my own observation. On my third journey to Cape Colonna, early in 1811, as we passed through the dofile that leads from the hamlet between Keratia and Colonna,'I observed Dervish Tahiri riding rather out of the path, and leaning his head upon his hand, as if in pain. I rode up and enquired. " We are
peril,” he answered. " What peril? we are not now in Albania, nor in the passes to Ephesus, Messalunghi, or Lepanto; there are plenty of us, well armed, and the Choriates have not courage to be thieves.”_" True, Affendi, but nevertheless, the shot is ringing in my ears.”—". The shot! not a tophaike has been fired this morning.' I hear it notwithstanding - Bom-Bom
-as plainly as I hear your voice. .“ Psha !" -"As you please, Affendi; if it is written, so will it be." - I left this quick.eared predestinarian, and rode up io Basili, his Chris. tian compatriot, whose ears, though not at all prophetic, by no means relished the intelligence. We all arrived at Colonna, remained some hours, and returned leisurely, saying a variety of brilliant things, in more languages than spoiled the building of Babel, upon the mistaken seer; Romaic, Arnaout, Turkish, Italian, and English were all exercised, in various conceits, upon the unfortunate Mussulman. While wo were contemplating the beautiful prospect, Dervish was occupied about the columns. I thought he was deranged into an antiquarian, and asked him if he had become a “ Palao-castro man?" No,” said he, but these pillars will be useful in making a stand;" and added other remarks, which at least evinced his own belief in his troublesomo faculty of forehearing. On our return to Athens, we heard from Leoné (a prisoner set ashore some days after) of the intended attack of the Mainoles,
mentioned, with the cause of its not taking place, in the notes to Childe Harold, Canto 20. was at some pains to question the man, and he described the dresses, arms, and marks of the horses of our party so accurately, that, with other circumstances, we could not doubt of his having been in " villainous company,". and ourselves in a bad neighbourhood. Dervish became a soothsayer for life, and I dare say is now hearing more musketry than ever will be fired, to the great refreshment of the Arnaouts of Berat, and his native mountains.--I shall mention one trait more of this sin
He died tou in the battle broil,
« The cold in clime are cold in blood,
Their love can scarce deserve the name ;
That boils in Ætna's breast of flame.
gular raco. In March, 1811, a remarkably stout and active Arnaout camo (I believe the 50th on the same errand) to offer himself as an attendant, which was declined : "Well, Atfendi,” quoth he, may you live ! - you would have found me useful. I shall leave the town for the hills to-morrow, in the winter I return, perhaps you will then receivo me."-Dervish, who was present, remarked, as a thing of course, and of no consoquence, " in tho moan time ho will join tho Klophtos " (robbers), which was true to the letter. If not cut off, they como down in the winter, and pass it unmolested in somo lown, where they are often as well known as their exploits.
Shall I the doom I sought upbraid ?
The Morning stur of Memory!
A spark of that immortal fire
To life from earth our low desire.
hers was not guilt !
This present joy, this future hope,
No more with sorrow meekly cope ;
That seem to add but guilt to woe ?
Hath nought to dread from outward blow :
To thee, old man, my deeds appear :