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Though I have mark'd her when none other
hath, And sought her more and more, and loved her best in wrath.
IXXVIII. Land of Albania! where Iskander rose, Theme of the young, and beacon of the wise, And he his namesake, whose oft-baffled foes Shrunk from his deeds of chivalrous emprize: Land of Albania! 11) let me bend mine eyes On thee, thou rugged nurse of savage men! The cross descends, thy minarets arise, And the pale crescent sparkles in the glen, Through many a cypress grove within each ci
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 forg The lover's refuge, and the Lesbian's grave. Dark Sappho ! could not verse immortal save That breast imbued with such immortal fire ? Conld she not live who life eternal gave?
If life eternal may await the lyre, That only Heaven to which Earth's children may aspire.
XL. 'Twas on a Grecian autumn's gentle eve Childe Harold hail'd Leucadia's cape afar; A spot he long'd to see, nor cared to leave: Oft did he mark the scenes of vanish'd war, Actium, Lepanto, fatal Trafalgar; 13) Mark them unmoved, for he would not delight (Boro beneath some remote inglorious star)
In themes of bloody fray, or gallant fight, But loathed the bravo's trade, and laughed at
And hail'd the last resort of fruitless love, 14)
And, sunk albeit in thought as he was wont. More placid seem'd his eye, and smooth his pal.
XLII. Morn dawns; and with it stern Albania's hills, Dark Suli's rocks, and Pindus' inland peak, Robed 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
XLIII. Now Harold felt himself at length alone, And bade to Christian tongues a long adieu; Now he adventured on a shore 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, Beat back keen winter's blast, and welcomed sum
XLIV. Here the red cross, for still the cross is here, Though sadly scoff'd at by the circumcised, Forgets that pride to paniper'd priesthood dear; Churchman and votary alike despised. Foul Superstition! howsoe'er disguised, Idol, saint, virgin, prophet, crescent, cross, For whatsoever symbol thou art prized,
Thou sacerdotal gain, but general loss! Who from true worship's gold can separate thy dross?
XLV. Ambracia's gulf behold, where once was lost A world for woman, lovely, harmless thing! In yonder rippling bay, their naval host Did many a Roman chief and Asian king 15) To doubtful conflict, certain slaughter bring: Look where the second Caesar's trophies rose! 16) Now, like the hands that rear'd them, withering:
Imperial anarchs, doubling human woes ! God! was thy globe ordain'd for such to win and
XLVI. 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 noticed in historic tales; Yet in famed Attica such lovely dales Are rarely seen; nor can fair Tempe boast A charm they know not; loved Parnassus fails,
Though classic ground and consecrated most, To match some spots that lurk within this lowering coast.
XLVII, 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 com
mand 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)
XLVIII. Monastic Zitza! 20) from thy shady brow, 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 volumed cataract doth roll Between those hanging rocks, that shock yet please
XLIX. 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 he, Nor niggard of his cheer; the passer by
Is welcome still; nor heedless will he flee From hence, if he delight kind Nature's sheen to see.
L. Here in the sultriest season let him rest, Fresh is the green beneath those aged trees ; Here winds o f gentlest wing will fan his breast, From heaven itself he may inhale the breeze: The plain is far beneath-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 gaze, untired, the morn, the noon, the eve away.
LI. Dusky and huge, enlarging on the sight, Nature's volcanic amphitheatre, 22) Chimaera's alps extend from left to right: Beneath, a living valley seems to stit; Flocks play, trees wave, streams flow, the moun.
tain-fir Nodding above: behold black Acheron Once consecrated to the sepulchre.
Pluto! if this be hell I look upon, Close shamed Elysium's gates, my shade shall
seek for none !
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 scatter d 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-lived shock.
LIII. 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? All, all forgotten--and shall man repine That his frail bonds to fleeting life are broke ? Cease, fool! the fate of gods may well be thine:
Wouldst thou sirvive the marble or the oak? When nations, tongues, and worlds must sink be
neath the stroke!
Liv, Epirus' bounds recede, and mountains fail; Tired of up gazing still, the wearied eye Reposes gladly on as smooth a vale As ever Spring yclad in grassy die : 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, Or with the moonbeam sleep in midnight's so
LV. The sun had sunk behind vast Tomerit, 25) And Laos wide and fierce came roarin The shades of wonted night were gath When, down the steep banks winding warily, Childe Harold saw, like meteors in th The glittering minarets of Tepalen, Whose walls o’er look the stream ; and drawing
nigh, He heard the busy hum of warrior.men Swelling the breeze that sigh'd along the lengthe.