Page images
[blocks in formation]

Little knew she that seeming marble heart,
Now mask'd by silence or withheld by pride,
Was not unskilful in the spoiler's art,
And spread its snares licentious far and wide;
Nor from the base pursuit had turn'd aside,
As long as aught was worthy to pursue :
But Harold on such arts no more relied ;

And had he doted on those eyes so blue,
Yet never would he join the lover's whining crew.

XXXIV. Not much he kens, I ween, of woman's breast, Who thinks that wanton thing is won by sighs : What careth she for hearts when once possessed ? Do proper homage to thine idol's eyes, But not too humbly, or she will despise Thee and thy suit, though told in moving tropes; Disguise even tenderness, if thou art wise ;

Brisk Confidence still best with woman copes ; Pique her and soothe in turn, soon Passion crowns

thy hopes.

'Tis an old lesson : Time approves it true, And those who know it best deplore it most; When all is won that all desire to woo, The paltry prize is hardly worth the cost : Youth wasted, minds degraded, honour lost, These are thy fruits, successful Passion ! these ! If, kindly cruel, early hope is crost, Still to the last it rankles, a disease Not to be cured when Love itself forgets to please.

XXXVIII. 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 emprise : Land of Albania ! 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 city's ken.

XXXIX. Childe Harold sail'd, and pass'd the barren spot Where sad Penelope o'erlook'd the wave;1 And onward view'd the nount, not yet forgot, The lover's refuge, and the Lesbiau's grave. Dark Sappho! could not verse immortal save That breast imbued with such immortal fire ? Could 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 longd to see, nor cared to leave : Oft did he mark the scenes of vanish'd war, Actium, Lepanto, fatal Trafalgar :8 Mark them unmoved, for he would not delight (Born beneath some remote inglorious star)

În themes of bloody fray, or gallant fight, But loath'd the bravo's trade, and laugh'd at martial wiglit.

But when he saw the evening star above
Leucadia's far-projecting rock of woe,
And hail'd the last resort of fruitless love,
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.

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 year.

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:


Away! nor let me loiter in my song,
For we have many a mountain path to tread,
And many a varied shore to sail along,
By pensive Sadness, not by Fiction, led
Climes, fair withal as ever mortal head
Imagined in its little schemes of thought ;
Or e'er in new Utopias were read,

To teach man what he might be, or he ought; If that corrupted thing could ever such be taught.


Dear Nature is the kindest mother still ;
Though always changing, in her aspect mild :
From her bare bosom let me take my fill,
Her never-weaned, though not her favour'd child.
Oh! she is fairest in her features wild,
Where nothing polish'd dares pollute her path :
To me by day or nigbt she ever smil'd,

Though I have mark'd her when none other hath, And sought her more and more, and loved her best

in wrath.

(1) Ithaca.

battle of Lepanto, equally bloody and considerable, but less (2) Leucadia, now Santa Maura. From the promontory known, was fought in the gulf of Patras. Here the author of (the Lover's Leap) Sappho is said to have thrown herself. Don Quixote lost his left band.

(3) Actium and Trafalgar need no further mention. The

[blocks in formation]

(1) It is said that, on the day previous to the battle of this contest there were soveral acts performed not unworthy Actium, Antony had'thirteen kings at his levée.

of the better days of Greece. (2) Nicopolis, whose ruins are most extensive, is at some (6) The convent and village of Zitzn are four hours' journey distance from Actium, where the wall of the Hippodrome from Joannina, or Yanina, the capital of the pachalic. In survives in a few fragments. These ruins are large masses of the valley the river Knlamas (once the Acheron) flows, and brickwork, the bricks of which are joined by interstices of not far from Zitza forms a fine cataract. The situation is mortar, as large as the bricks themselves, and equally perhaps the finest in Greece, though the appronch to Deldurable.

vinnchi and parts of Acarnania and Ætolia may contest the (3) According to Pouqueville, the lake of Yanina : but palm. Delphi,

Parnassus, and, in Attica, even Cape Colonna Pouqueville is always out.

and Port Raphti, are very inferior; as also every scene in (4) The celebrated Ali Pacha. Of this extraordinary man Ionia, or the Troad: I am almost inclined to add, the there is an incorrect account in Pouqueville's Travels. approach to Constantinople; but, from the different features

(6) Five thousand Suliotes, among the rocks and in the of the last, a comparison can hardly be made. astle of Suli, withstood thirty thousand Albanians for (7) The Greek monks are so called. eighteen years: the castle at last was taken by bribery. In (8) The Chimariot mountains appear to have been volcanic.

(9) Now called Kalamas.


But, peering down each precipice, the goat And osttimes through the area's echoing door, Browseth; and, pensive o'er his scatter'd flock, Some high-capp'd Tartar spurr'd his steed away; The little shepherd in his white capotel

The Turk, the Greek, the Albanian, and the Doth lean his boyish form along the rock,

Moor, Or in his cave awaits the tempest's short-lived Here mingled in their many-hued array, shock.

While the deep war-drum's sound announced the close of day.

LVIIJ. Oh! where, Dodona, is thine aged grove,

The wild Albanian kirtled to his knee, Prophetic fount, and oracle divine ?

With shawl-girt head and ornamented gun, What valley echoed the response of Jove ?

And gold-embroider'd garments, fair to see ; What trace remaineth of the Thunderer's shrine ?

The crimson-scarfed men of Macedon; All, all forgotten—and shall man repine

The Delhi with his cap of terror on, That his frail bonds to fleeting life are broke?

And crooked glaive; the lively, supple Greek; Cease, fool! the fate of gods may well be thine :

And swarthy Nubia's mutilated son ; Wouldst thou survive the marble or the oak,

The bearded Turk, that rarely deigns to speak, When nations, tongues, and worlds must sink Master of all around, too potent to be meek,

beneath the stroke ?


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 dye:
Even on a plain no humble beauties lie,
Where sone 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 solemn


Are mix'd conspicuous; some recline in groups,
Scanning the motley scene that varies round;
There some grave Moslem to devotion stoops,
And some that smoke, and some that play are

Here the Albanian proudly treads the ground:
Half-whispering there the Greek is heard to

prate; Hark!' from the mosque the nightly solemn

sound, The Muezzin's call doth shake the minaret, “There is no god but God !—to prayer-lo! God

is great!”



Just at this season Ramazani's fast,
Through the long day its penance did maintain.
But when the lingering twilight hour was past,
Revel and feast assumed the rule again :
Now all was bustle, and the menial train
Prepared and spread the plenteous board within ;
The vacant gallery now seem'd made in vain,

But from the chambers came the mingling din,
As page and slave anon were passing out and in.

The sun had sunk behind vast Tomerit,2
The Laos wide and fierce came roaring by ;3
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

He heard the busy hum of warrior-men
Swelling the breeze that sigli'd along the lengthen-
ing glen.

He pass'd the sacred Haram's silent tower,
And underneath the wide o'erarching gate
Survey'd the dwelling of this chief of power,
Where all around proclaim'd his bigh estate.
Amidst no common pomp the despot sate,
While busy preparation shook the court ;
Slaves, eunuchs, soldiers, guests, and santons

Within, a palace, and without a fort,
Here men of every clime appear to make resort.

Here woman's voice is never heard : apart
And scarce permitted, guarded, veil’d, to move,
She yields to one her person and her heart,
Tamed to her cage, nor feels a wish to rove;
For, not unhappy in her master's love,
And joyful in a mother's gentlest cares,

Blest cares! all other feelings far above!
Herself more sweetly rears the babe she bears,
Who never quits the breast, no meaner passion



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 corridor ;

In marble-paved pavilion, where a spring
Of living water from the centre rose,
Whose bubbling did a genial freshness fling,
And soft voluptuous couches breathed repose,

(1) Albanese cloak.

author and his fellow-traveller. In the summer it must be (2) Anciently Mount Tomarus.

much narrower. It certainly is the finest river in the Levant; (8) The river Laos was full at the time the author passed neither Achelous, Alpheus, Acheron, Scamander, nor Cayster, it; and, immediately above Tepaleen, was to the eye as wide approach it in brondth or beauty. as the Thames at Westminster- at least in the opinion of the i

[blocks in formation]


Fierce are Albania's children, yet they lack
Not virtues, were those virtues more mature. Where lone Utraikey forms its circling cove,
Where is the foe that ever saw their back ?

And weary waves retire to gleam at rest,
Who can so well the toil of war endure ?

How brown the foliage of the green hill's grove, Their native fastnesses not more secure

Nodding at midnight o'er the calm bay's breast, Than they in doubtful time of troublous need : As winds come whispering lightly from the west, Their wrath how deadly! but their friendship Kissing, not rufling, the blue deep's serene : sure,

Here Harold was received a welcome guest; When Gratitude or Valour bids them bleed, Nor did he pass unmoved the gentle scene, Unshaken rushing on where'er their chief may lead. For many a joy could be from night's soft presence


Childe Harold saw them in their chieftain's tower,

On the smooth shore the night-fires brightly Thronging to war in splendour and success :

blazed, And after view'd them, when, within their power,

The feast was done, the red wine circling fast, 2 Himself awhile the victim of distress;

And he that unawares had there ygazed Tbat saddening hour when bad men hotlier press :

With gaping wonderment had stared aghast ; But these did shelter him beneath their rooi,

For ere night's midmost, stillest bour was past, When less barbarians would have cheer'd him less,

The native revels of the troop began;

Each Palikar3 his sabre from him cast, And fellow-countrymen have stood aloothlu aught that tries tlic heart how few withstand the Yelling their uncouth dirge, loug danced the kirtled

And bounding hand in hand, man link'd to man, proof!

It chanced that adverse winds once drove his bark Childe Harold at a little distance stood,
Full on the coast of Suli's shaggy shore,

And view'd, but not displeased, the revelrie, When all around was desolate and dark ;

Nor hated harmless mirth, however rude: To land was perilous, to sojourn more ;

In sooth, it was no vulgar sight to see


(1) Alluding to the wreckers of Cornwall.

(2) The Albanian Musso)mans do not abstain from wine, and indeed very few of the others.

(3) “Palikar," a general name for a soldier amongst the Greeks and Albanese who speak Romaic: it means, properly, "a lad."


Their barbarous, yet their not indecent, glee: When his Delhis 6 come dashing in blood o'er the And as the flames along their faces gleamid,

banks, Their gestures nimble, dark eyes flashing free, How few shall escape from the Muscovite ranks!

The long wild locks that to their girdles stream'd, While thus in concert they this lay half sang, balf

Selictar !7 unsheath then our chief's scimitar: scream'd :

Tambourgi! thy larum gives promise of war. TAMBOURGI! Tambourgi!i thy larum afar

Ye mountains that see us descend to the shore, Gives hope to the valiant, and promise of war;

Shall view us as victors, or view us no more! All the sons of the mountains arise at the note, Chimariot, Illyrian, and dark Suliote! 2 Oh! who is more brave than a dark Suliote,

Fair Greece ! sad relic of departed worth ! In his snowy camese and bis shaggy capote ?

Immortal, though no more; though fallen, great ! To the wolf and the vulture he leaves his wild

Who now shall lead thy scatter'd children forth, flock,

And long accustom'd bondage uncreate ? And descends to the plain like the stream from the

Not such thy sons who whilome did await, rock.

The hopeless warriors of a willing doom,

In bleak Thermopyle's sepulchral straitShall the sons of Chimari, who never forgive Oh, who that gallant spirit shall resume, The fault of a friend, bid an enemy live ? Leap from Eurotas' banks, and call thee from the Let those guns so unerring such vengeance

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

LXXIV. Macedonia sends forth her invincible race;

Spirit of Freedom! when on Phyle's brow 8

Thou sat'st with Thrasybulus and his train, For a time they abandon the cave and the chase :

Couldst thou forbode the dismal hour which now But those scarfs of blood-red shall be redder,

Dims the green beautics of thine Attic plain ? before The sabre is sheathed, and the battle is o'er.

Not thirty tyrants now enforce the chain,

But every carle can lord it o'er thy land; Then the pirates of Parga that dwell by the waves,

Nor rise thy sons, but idly rail in vain, And teach the pale Franks what it is to be slaves, From birth till death enslaved'; in word, in deed,

Trembling beneath the scourge of Turkish hand, Shall leave on the beach the long galley and oar, And track to his covert the captive on shore.

unmann'd. I ask not the pleasures that riches supply, My sabre shall win what the feeble must buy: In all save form alone, how changed ! and who Shall win the young bride with her long flowing That marks the fire still sparkling in each eye, hair,

Who would but deem their bosom burn'd anew And many a maid from her mother shall tear. With thy unquenched beam, lost Liberty !

And many dream withal the hour is nigh I love the fair face of the maid in her youth ;

That gives them back their father's heritage : Her caresses shall lull me, her music shall soothe :

For foreign arms and aid they fondly sigh, Let her bring from her chamber the many-toned Nor solely dare encounter hostile rage, lyre,

Or tear their name defiled from Slavery's mournful And sing us a song on the fall of her sire.

Remember the moment when Previsa fell, 3
The slirieks of the conquer'd, the conquerors' yell;
The roofs that we fired, and the plunder we shared,

Hereditary bondsmen! know ye not
The wealthy we slaughter'd, the lovely we spared.

Who would be free themselves must strike the

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

By their right arms the conquest must be He neither must know who would serve the

wrouglit? Vizier :

Will Gaul or Muscovite redress ye? No! Since the days of our prophet the Crescent ne'er

True, they may lay your proud despoilers low,

But not for you will Freedom's altars flame. A chief ever glorious like Ali Paslaw.

Shades of the Helots ! triumph o'er your foe!

Greece! change thy lords, thy state is s:ill the Dark Muchtar bis sou to the Danube is sped,

same; Let the yellow-hair’d Giaours4 view his horsetails Thy glorious day is o'er, but not thy years of with dread;





(1) Drumner.

(2) These stunzas are partly taken from different Albanese songs, as far as I was able to make them out by the exposition of the Albanese in Romaic and Italian.

3) It wis taken by storm from the French.

41 Yellow is the epithet given to the Russians. Giaour : Intidel.

(5) Horsetul : the insignia of a pacha.
(6) Horsemen, answering to our forlorn hope.
(7) "Selictar," swordbearer.

(8) Phyle, which commands a beautiful view of Athens, has still considerable iemains. It was seized by Thrasybulus previous to the expulsion of the Thirty.

« ՆախորդըՇարունակել »