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Whose shadows in the glassy waters dance,
The Sun had sunk behind vast Tomerit, (25)
He heard the busy hum of warrior-men
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 their many-hued array, While the deep war-drum's sound announced the close
The bearded Turk that rarely deigns to speak,
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, Muezzin's call doth shake the minaret,
no god but God!-to prayer-lo! God is great!!
But from the chambers came the mingling din,
Herself more sweetly rears the babe she bears,
Along that aged venerable face,
Blood follows blood, and, through their mortal span, In bloodier acts conclude those who with blood began.
But Peace abhorreth artificial joys,
LXV. Fierce are Albania's children, yet they lack Not virtues, were those virtues more mature. Where is the foe that ever saw their back? Who can so well the toil of war endure? Their native fastnesses not more secure Than they in doubtful time of troublous need: Their wrath how deadly! but their friendship sure, When gratitude or Valour bids them bleed,
en rushing on where'er their chief may lead.
LXVI. Childe Harold saw them in their chieftain's tower Thronging to war in splendour and success ; And after view'd them, when, within their power, Himself awhile the victim of distress; That saddening hour when bad men hotlier press : But these did shelter him beneath their roof, When less barbarians would have cheer'd him less,
And fellow-countrymen have stood aloof-(27) In aught that tries the heart how few withstand the proof!
LXVII. It chanced 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 ventured forth, though doubting sore
That those who loathe alike the Frank and Turk Might once again renew their ancient butcher-work.
LXVIII. 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 piled the hearth, and wrung their 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 Philanthropy's rare stampa
To rest the weary and to soothe the sad, Doth lesson happier men, and shames at least the bad.