Who can so well the toil of war endure? Their native fastnesses not more secure Than they in doubtful time of troublous need: Their wrath how deadly! but their friendship sure, When Gratitude or Valor bids them bleed, Unshaken rushing on where'er their chief may lead. Childe Harold saw them in their chieftain's tower Thronging to war in splendor and success; And after viewed them, when, within their power, Himself awhile the victim of distress; That saddening hour when bad men hotlier press: When less barbarians would have cheered him less, And fellow-countrymen have stood aloof In aught that tries the heart how few withstand the proof! LXVII. It chanced that adverse winds once drove his bark Full on the coast of Suli's shaggy shore, When all around was desolate and dark; Dubious to trust where treachery might lurk: At length they ventured forth, though doubting sore That those who loathe alike the Frank and Turk Might once again renew their ancient butcher-work. LXVIII. Vain fear the Suliotes stretched the welcome hand, To rest the weary and to soothe the sad, Doth lesson happier men, and shames at least the bad. LXIX. It came to pass, that when he did address Himself to quit this mountain-land, Combined marauders half-way barred egres, And wasted far and near with glaive and brand; And therefore did he take a trusty band To traverse Acarnania's forest wide, In war well seasoned, and with labors tanned, Till he did greet white Achelous' tide, And from his further bank Ætolia's wolds espied. LXX. Where lone Utraikey forms its circling cove, Nor did he pass unmoved the gentle scene, For many a joy could he from Night's soft presence glean. LXXI. On the smooth shore the night-fires brightly blazed, The feast was done, the red wine circling fast, And he that unawares had there ygazed With gaping wonderment had stared aghast; For ere night's midmost, stillest hour was past The native revels of the troop began; Each Palikar his sabre from him cast, And bounding hand in hand, man linked to man, Yelling their uncouth dirge, long daunced the kirtled clan. LXXII. Childe Harold at a little distance stood In sooth, it was no vulgar sight to see Their barbarous, yet their not indecent, glee, Their gestures nimble, dark eyes flashing free, The long wild locks that to their girdles streamed, While thus in concert they this lay half sang, half screamed: I. TAMBOURGI! Tambourgi! thy larum afar Gives hope to the valiant, and promise of war; II. Oh! who is more brave than a dark Suliote, In his snowy camese and his shaggy capote? To the wolf and the vulture he leaves his wild flock, And descends to the plain like the stream from the rock. III. Shall the sons of Chimari, who never forgive The fault of a friend, bid an enemy live? Let those guns so unerring such vengeance forego? IV. Macedonia sends forth her invincible race; For a time they abandon the cave and the chase: V. Then the pirates of Parga that dwell by the waves, VI. I ask not the pleasures that riches supply, My sabre shall win what the feeble must buy; VII. I love the fair face of the maid in her youth, VIII. Remember the moment when Previsa fell, The shrieks of the conquered, the conqueror's yell; IX. I talk not of mercy, I talk not of fear, He neither must know who would serve the Vizier: X. Dark Muchtar his son to the Danube is sped, Let the yellow-haired Giaours view his horse-tail with dread; When his Delhis come dashing in blood o'er the banks, How few shall escape from the Muscovite ranks! XI. Selictar! unsheath then our chief's scimitar : |