Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (With Byron's Biography). Lord Byron

      Ambracia's gulf behold, where once was lost

A world for Woman, lovely, harmless thing!ey146 In yonder rippling bay, their naval host Did many a Roman chief and Asian King 15.B. To doubtful conflict, certain slaughter bring: Look where the second Cæsar's trophies rose!147 16.B. Now, like the hands that reared them, withering: Imperial Anarchs, doubling human woes!ez God! was thy globe ordained for such to win and lose?

      XLVI.

      From the dark barriers of that rugged clime,

       Ev'n to the centre of Illyria's vales,

       Childe Harold passed 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 passed bleak Pindus, Acherusia's lake, 17.B. And left the primal city of the land, And onwards did his further journey take148 To greet Albania's Chief, whose dread command 18.B. 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.B.

      XLVIII.

Monastic Zitza!149 from thy shady brow, 20.B. Thou small, but favoured 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 harmonise the whole: Beneath, the distant Torrent's rushing sound Tells where the volumed Cataract doth roll Between those hanging rocks, that shock yet please the soul.

      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 deemed of dignity,

       The Convent's white walls glisten fair on high:

Here dwells the caloyer, nor rude is he, 21.B. Nor niggard of his cheer;150 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 of gentlest wing will fan his breast,fa 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.B. 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.B. Once consecrated to the sepulchre. Pluto! if this be Hell I look upon, Close shamed Elysium's gates, my shade shall seek for nonefb.

      LII.

      Ne city's towers pollute the lovely view;

       Unseen is Yanina, though not remote,

       Veiled by the screen of hills: here men are few,

       Scanty the hamlet, rare the lonely cot:

But, peering down each precipice, the goatfc Browseth; and, pensive o'er his scattered flock, The little shepherd in his white capote 24.B. Doth lean his boyish form along the rock, Or in his cave awaits the Tempest's short-lived shock.fd

      LIII.

Oh! where, Dodona!151 is thine agéd Grove, Prophetic Fount, and Oracle divine? What valley echoed 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?152 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 beneath the stroke!

      LIV.

Epirus' bounds recede, and mountains fail;153 Tired of up-gazing still, the wearied eye Reposes gladly on as smooth a vale As ever Spring yclad in grassy dye:154 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 solemn trance.

      LV.

The Sun had sunk behind vast Tomerit, 25.B. And Laos wide and fierce came roaring by; 26.B. The shades of wonted night were gathering yet, When, down the steep banks winding warily, Childe Harold saw, like meteors in the sky,155 The glittering minarets of Tepalen, Whose walls o'erlook the stream; and drawing nigh, He heard the busy hum of warrior-men Swelling the breeze that sighed along the lengthening glen.

      LVI.