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Childe Harold pass'd o'er many a mount sublime,
Though classic ground and consecrated most,
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)
Tell where the volum'd cataract doth roll Between those hanging rocks, that shock yet please
XLIX. Amidst the grove that crowns yon tufted bill, Which, were it not for many a mountain nigh
Rising in lofty ranks, and loftier still,
Is welcome still ; nor heedless will he flee
Here in the sultriest season let him rest,
Then let bis length the loitering pilgrim lay, And gaze, untired, the morn, the noon, the eve
LI. Dusky and huge, 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 moun
tain-fir Nodding above : behold black Acheron! (23). Once consecrated to the sepulchre.
Pluto! if this be hell I look upon, Close shamed Elysium's gates, my shade shall seek
for none !
Veild by the screen of hills : here men are few,
Doth lean his boyish form along the rock,
LIII. On! 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 Aeeting life are broke? Cease, fool! the fate of gods may well be thine :
Wouldst thou survive the marble or the oak? When nations, tongues, and worlds must sink be
neath tbe 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 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, Or with the moon-beam sleep in midnight's solemn
LV. The sun had sunk behind vast Tomeret, (25) And Laos wide and fierce came roaring by ; (26)
The shades of wonted night were gathering yet,
He heard the busy hum of warrior-men
ening glen. "
LVI. 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 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.
LVII. 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 the many-hued array, While the deep war-drum's sound announced the
close of day.
The Delhi with his cap of terror on,
The bearded Turk that rarely deigns to speak, Master of all around, too potent to be meek,
. LIX. . 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
found ; 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!"
LX. 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 passiog out and in.
Here woman's voice is never heard : apart,