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 sleepin midnight's solemn trance.

The Sun had sunk behind vast Tomerit, (25)
And Laos wide and fierce came roaring by ; (26)
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 nigh,

He heard the busy hum of warrior-men
Swelling the breeze that sigh'd along the lengthening 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 their many-hued array, While the deep war-drum's sound announced the close

of day.

LVIII.
The wild Albanian kirtled to his knee,
With shawl-girt head and ornamented gun,
And gold-embroider'd garments, fair to see;
The crimson-scarfed men of Macedon;
The Delhi with his cap of terror on,
And crooked glaive; the lively, supple Greek;
And swarthy Nubia's mutilated son ;

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, Muezzin's call doth shake the minaret,

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 passing out and in.

LXI.
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 shares.

LXII.
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,
Ali reclined, a man of war and woes;
Yet in his lineaments ye cannot trace,
While Gentleness her milder radiance throws

Along that aged venerable face,
The deeds that lurk beneath, and stain him with disgrace.

VOL. 1.

LXIII.
It is not that yon hoary lengthening beard
Il suits the passions which belong to youth;
Love conquers age--so Hafiz hath averr'd,
So sings the Teian, and he sings in sooth-
But crimes that scorn the tender voice of Ruth,
Beseeming all men ill, but most the man
In years, have marked him with a tiger's tooth;

Blood follows blood, and, through their mortal span, In bloodier acts conclude those who with blood began.

LXIV.
'Mid many things most new to ear and eye
The pilgrim rested here his weary feet,
And gazed around on Moslem luxury,
Till quickly wearied with that spacious seat
Of Wealth and Wantonness, the choice retreat
Of sated Grandeur from the city's noise :
And were it humbler it in sooth were sweet;

But Peace abhorreth artificial joys,
And Pleasure, leagued with Pomp, the zest of both

destroys.

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.