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It chanc'd that adverse winds once drove his bark
Full on the coast of Suli's shaggy shore,
When all around was desolate and dark;
To land was perilous, to sojourn more;
Yet for awhile the mariners forbore,

Dubious to trust where treachery might lurk :
At length they ventur'd forth, though doubting sore
That those who loathe alike the Frank and Turk
Might once again renew their ancient butcher work.


Vain fear the Suliotes stretch'd the welcome hand,
Led them o'er rocks and past the dangerous swamp,
Kinder than polish'd slaves though not so bland,
And pil'd the hearth, and wrung the garments damp,
And fill'd the bowl, and trimm'd the cheerful lamp,
And spread their fare; though homely, all they had;
Such conduct bears Philanthrophy's rare stamp-
To rest the weary and to soothe the sad,

Doth lesson happier men, and shames at least the bad.

It came to pass, that when he did address
Himself to quit at length this mountain-land,
Combin'd marauders half way barr'd egress,
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 season'd, and with labours nn'd,
Till he did greet white Achelons' tide,

And from his further bank Ætolia's wolds espied.


Where lone Utraikey forms its circling cove,
And weary waves retire to gleam at rest,
How brown the foliage of the green hill's grove
Nodding at midnight o'er the calm bays breast,
As winds come lightly whispering from the west,
Kissing, not ruffling, the blue deep serene ;-
Here Harold was receiv'd a welcome guest;
Nor did he pass unmov'd the gentle scene,

For many a joy could he from Night's soft presence glen.


On the smooth shore the night fires brightly blaz'd,
The feast was done, the red wine circling fast, (28).
And he that unawares had there ygaz'd

With gaping wonderment had star'd aghast :
For ere night's midmost, stillest hour was past
The native revels of the troop began;

Each Palikar (29) his sabre from him cast,
And bounding hand in hand, man link'd to man,
Yelling their uncouth dirge, long daunc'd the kirtled clan.

Childe Harold at a little distance stood And view'd, but not displeas'd, the revelrie, Nor hated harmless mirth, however rude: In sooth, it was no vulgar sight to see Their barbarous, yet their not indecent, glee, And, as the flames along their faces gleam'd, 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 scream'd. (30)


(31) TAMBOURGI! Tambourgi!* thy 'larum afar
Gives hope to the valiant, and promise of war;
All the sons of the mountains arise at the note,
Chimariot, Illyrian, and dark Suliote!


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.


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?
What mark is so fair as the breast of a foe?


Macedonia sends forth her invincible race;

For a time they abandon the cave and the chase:
But those scarfs of blood-red shall be redder, before
The sabre is sheath'd and the battle is o'er.

* Drummer.


Then the pirates of Parga that dwell by the waves,
And teach the pale Franks what it is to be slaves,
Shall leave on the beach the long galley and oar,
And track to his covert the captive on shore.


I ask not the pleasures that riches supply,
My sabre shall win what the feeble must buy,
Shall win the young bride with her long flowing hair,
And many a maid from her mother shall tear.


I love the fair face of the maid in her youth,
Her caresses shall lull me, her music shall sooth;
Let her bring from the chamber her many ton'd lyre,
And sing us a song on the fall of her sire.


Remember the moment when Previsa fell, (32)
The shrieks of the conquer'd, the conquerors' yell;
The roofs that we fir'd, and the plunder we shar'd,
The wealthy we slaughter'd, the lovely we spar'd.


I talk not of mercy, I talk not of fear;

He neither must know who would serve the Vizier: Since the days of our prophet the Crescent ne'er saw A chief ever glorious like Ali Pashaw.


Dark Muchtar his son to the Danube is sped,

Let the yellow-hair'd* Giaours † view his horsetail ‡ with dread;

When his Delhis § come dashing in blood o'er the banks How few shall escape from the Muscovite ranks !


Selictar!** unsheath then our chief's scimitar.
Tambourgi! thy 'larum gives promise of war
Ye mountains, that see us descend to the shore,
Shall view us as victors, or view us no more!

* Yellow is the epithet given to the Russians. † Infidel. Horse tails are the insignia of a Pacha.

Horsemen, answering to our forlorn hope.

* Sword-bearer,


Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth! (33)
Immortal, though no more; though fallen, great!
Who now shall lead thy scatter'd children forth,
And long accustom'd bondage uncreate;
Not such thy sons who whilome did await,
The hopeless warriors of a willing doom,
In bleak Thermopyla's sepulchral strait-
Oh! who that gallant spirit shall resume,
Leap from Eurota's banks, and call thee from the tomb ?

Spirit of freedom! when on Phyle's brow (34)
Thou sat'st with Thrasybulus and his train,
Couldst thou forbode the dismal hour which now
Dims the green beauties of thine Attic plain?
Not thirty tyrants now enforce the chain,
But every carle can lord it o'er thy land;
Nor rise thy sons, but idly rail in vain,

Trembling beneath the scourge of Turkish hand,
From birth till death enslav'd: in word, in deed unmann'd.

In all save form alone, and chang'd! and who
That marks the fire still sparkling in each eye,
Who but would deem their bosoms burned anew
With thy unquenched beam, lost liberty!
And many dream withal the hour is nigh
That gives them back their father's heritage;
For foreign arms and aid they fondly sigh,
Nor sorely dare encounter hostile rage.

Or tear the name defil'd from slavery's mournful page.

Hereditary bondsmen ! know ye not

Who would be free themselves must strike the blow; By their right arms the conquest must be wrought? Will Gaul or Muscovite redress ye? no!

True, they may lay your proud despoilers low, But, not for you will Freedom's altars flame. Shades of the Helots! triumph o'er your foe! Greece change thy lords, thy state is still the same; Thy glorious day is o'er, but not thine years of shame.


The city won for Allah from the Giaour,
The Giaour from Othman's race again may wrest;
And the Serai's impenetrable tower,

Receive the fiery Frank, her former guest; (35)
Or Wahab's rebel brood who dared divest
The (36) prophet's tomb of all its pious spoil,
May wind the path of blood along the West;
But ne'er will freedom seek this fated soil,
But slaves succeed to slave through years of endless toil.

Yet mark their mirth-ere lenten days begin,
That penance which their holy rites prepare
To shrive from man his weight of mortal sin,
By daily abstinence and nightly prayer;
But ere his sackloth garb Repentance wear,
Some days of joyaunce are decreed to all,
To take of pleasaunce each his secret share,
In motley robe to dance at masking ball,
And join the mimic train of merry Carnival.


And whose more rife with merriment than thine,
Oh Stamboul! once the empress of their reign ?
Though turbans now pollute Sophia's shrine,
And Greece her very altars eyes in vain :
(Alas! her woes will still pervade my strain !)
Gay were her minstrels once, for free her throng,
All felt the common joy they now must feign,
Nor oft I've seen such sight, nor heard such song,
As woo'd the eye, and thrill'd the Bosphorus along.

Loud was the lightsome tumult of the shore,
Oft Music chang'd, but never ceas'd her tone,
And timely echo'd back the measur'd oar,
And rippling waters made a pleasant moan;
The Queen of tides on high consenting shone,
And when a transient breeze swept o'er the wave,
'Twas, as if darting from her heavenly throne,
A brighter glance her form reflected gave,

Till sparkling billows seem'd to light the banks they lave.

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