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XXXIX. Childe Harold sail'd, and pass’d the barren spot, (12) Where sad Penelope o'erlook'd the wave; And onward view'd the mount not yet forgot, The lover's refuge, and the Lesbian's grave. Dark Sappbo ! could not verse immortal save That breast imbued with such immortal fire? Could she not live whu life eterual gave ?
If life eternal may await the lyre,
That only Heaven to which Earth's children may aspire.
'Twas on a Grecian autumi's gentle eve
Childe Harold hail'd Leucadia's cape afar ;
A spot he long'd to see, nor car'd to leave :
Oft did he mark the scenes of vanish'd war,
Actium, Lepanto, fatal Trafalgar ;(13)
Mark them unmov’d, for he would not delight
(Born beneath some remote inglorious star)
In themes of bloody fray, or gallant fight, [wight. But loath'd the bravo's trade, and laugh'd ar martial
But when he saw the evening star above
Leucadia's far projecting rock of woe,
And hail'd the last resort of fruitless love, (14)
He felt, or deem'd he felt, no common glow :
And as the stately vessel glided slow
Beneath the shadow of that ancient mount,
He watch'd the billows melancholy flow,
And, sunk albeit in thought as he was wont,
More placid seem'd his eye, and smooth his pallid front.
Morn dawns; and with it stern Albania's hills,
Dark Sulis' rocks, and Pindus' inland peak,
Rob'd half in mist, bedew'd with snowy rills,
Array'd in many a dun and purple streak,
Arise ; and, as the clouds along them break :
Disclose the dwelling of the mountaineer;
Here roams the wolf, the eagle whets his beak,
Birds, beasts of prey, and wilder men appear,
And gathering storms around convulse the closing year.
XLIII. Now Harold felt himself at length alone, And bade to Christian tongues a long adieu ; Now he adventur'd on a shoie unknown, Which all admire, but many dread to view : His breast was arm'd 'gainst fate, his wants were few; Peril he sought not, but ne'er shrank to meet, The scene was savage, but the scene was new;
This made the ceaseless toil of travel sweet, [heat. Beat back keen winter's blast, and welcom'd summer's
Here the red cross, for still the cross is here,
Though sadly scoff'd at by the circumcis'd,
Forgets that pride to pamper'd Priesthood dear;
Churchinan and votary alike despis'd.
Foul Superstition ! howsoe'er disguis’d,
Idol, saint, virgin, prophet, crescent, cross,
For whatsoever symbol thou art priz’d,
'Thou sacerdotal gain, but general loss! Who from true worship’s gold can separate thy dross?
XLV. Ambracia's gulph behold, where once was lost A world for woman, lovely, harmless thing! In yonder rippling bay, their na val host Did mapy a Roman Chief and Asian king, (15) To doubtful conflict, certain slaughter bring : Look where the second Cæsar's trophies rose! (16) Now, like the hands that rear'd them, withering,
Imperial Anarchs, doubling human woes!
God! was thy globe ordaind, for such to win and lose!
From the dark barriers of that rugged clime,
Ev'n to the centre of Illyria's vales,
Childe Harold pass'd o'er many a mount sublime,
Through lands scarce notic'd in historic tales ,
Yet in fam'd Attica such lovely dales,
Are rarely seen ; nor can fair 'Tempe boast
A charm they know not ; lov'd Parnassus fails,
Though classic ground and consecrated most,
To match some spots, that lurk within this lowering coast
He pass'd bleak Pindus, Acherusia's lake,(17)
And left the primal city of the land,
And onwards did his further journey take
To greet Albania's chief, (18) whose dread command
Is lawless law; for with a bloody hand
He sways a nation, turbulent and bold;
Yet here and there some daring mountain band
Disdain his power, and from their rocky hold
Hurl their defiance far, nor yield, unless to gold. (19)
Monastic Zitza ! (20) from thy shady hrow,
Thou small, but favour'd spot of holy ground !
Where'er we gaze, around, above, below,
What rainbow tints, what magic charms are found!
Rock, river, forest, mountain, all abound.
And bluest skies that harmonize the whole ;
Beneath, the distant torrent's rushing sound
Tells where the volum'd cataract doth roll (soul, Between those hanging rocks, that shock yet please the
Amidst the grove that crowns yon tufted hill,
Which were it not for many a mountain nigh
Rising in lofty ranks, and loftier still,
Might well itself be deem'd of dignity,
The convent's white walls glisten fair on high ;
Here dwells the caloyer, (21) nor rude is be,
Nor niggard of his cheer; the passer by
Is welcome still ; nor heedless will he flee
From hence, if he delight kind Nature's sbeen to see.
Here in the sultriest season let him rest,
Fresh is the green beneath those aged trees;
Here winds of gentlest wing will fan his breast,
From heaven itself he may inhale the breeze;
The plain is far bepeath-oh! let him seize
Pure pleasure while he can; the scorching ray
Here pierceth not, impregnate with disease ;
Then let his length the loitering pilgrim lay,
And goze, untired, the morn, the noon, the eve away.
LI. Dusky and liuge, enlarging on the sight, Nature's volcanic amphitheatre, (22) Chimæra's alps extend from left to right : Beneath, a living valley seems to stir; Flocks play, trees wave, streams flow, the mountain fir Nodding above, behold black Acheron ! (23) Once consecrated to the sepulchre. Pluto! if this be hell I look upon,
(none ! Close sham’d Elysium's gates, my shadc shall seek for
Ne city's towers pollute the lovely view ;
Unseen is Yanina, though not remote,
Veil'd by the screen of hills : here men are few,
Scanty the hamlet, rare the lonely cot ;
But, peering down each precipice, the goat
Browseth ? and, pensive o'er his scattered flock,
The little shepherd in his white capote (24)
Doth lean his boyish form along the rock,
Or in his cave awaits the tempest's short liv'd shock.
Oh! where, Dodona ! is thine aged grove,
Prophetic fount, and oracle divine ?
What valley echo'd the response of Jove?
What trace remaineth of the thunderer's shrine ?
Ah, all forgotten and shall man repine
That bis frail bonds to fleeting life are broke?
Cease, fool! the fate of Gods may well be thine :
Wouldst thou survive the marble or the oak ? (stroke.
When nations, tongues, and worlds must sink beneath the
Epirus' bounds ede, and mountains fail;
Tir'd of up-gazing still, the wearied eye
Reposes gladly on as smooth a vale
As every spring yclad in grassy dye :
Ev'n on a plain no humble beauties lie,
Where some bold river breaks the long expanse,
And woods along the banks are waving high.
Whose shadows in the glassy waters dance, (trance. Or with the moon-beam sleep in midnight's solemi
LV. The sun had sunk behind vast Tomerit, (25) And Laos wide and fierce came roaring by ; (26) The shades of wonted night were gathering yet, When, down the steep banks winding warily, Childe Harold saw, like meteors in the sky, The glittering minarets of Tepalen, Whose walls o'erlook the stream ; and drawing nigh, He heard the busy hum of warrior-men
[glen. Swelling the breeze that sighed along the lengthening
He pass'd the sacred Haram's silent tower,
And underneath the wide oʻerarching gate
Survey'd the dwelling of this chief of power,
Where all around proclaim'd his high estate.
Amidst no common pomp the despot sate,
While busy preparation shook the court
Slaves, eunuchs, soldiers, guests, and santons wait ;
Within, a palace, and without, a fort ;
Here men of every clime appear to make resort.
Richly caparison'd, a ready row
Of armed horse, and many a warlike store
Circled the wide extending court below;
Above, strange groups adorn'd the corridore ;
And oft-times through the Area's echoing door
Some high capp'd Tartar spurr'd his steed away ;
The Turk, the Greek, the Albanian, and the Moor,
Here mingled in their many hued array, [day. While the deep war dram's sound announc'd the close of
The wild Albanian kirtled to his knee,
With shawl girt head and ornamented gun,
And gold embroider'd garments, fair to see ;
The crimson-scarfed men of Macedon;
The Delhi with his cap of terror on,
And crooked glaive; the lively, supple Greek;
And swarthy Nubia's mutilated son,
The bearded Turk that rarely deigns to speak,
Alaster of all around, too potent to be mcek,