Page images
PDF
EPUB

XCIII.

Here is one fytte of Harold's pilgrimage: Ye who of him may further seek to know, Shall find some tidings in a future page, If he that rhymeth now may scribble moe. Is this too much? stern Critic! say not so: Patience! and ye shall hear what he beheld In other lands, where he was doomed to go: Lands that contain the monuments of Eld, Ere Greece and Grecian arts by barbarous hands were quelled.

END OF CANTO I.

CANTO II.

CHILDE HAROLD'S

PILGRIMAGE.

A ROMAUNT.

CANTO II.

I.

COME, blue-eyed maid of heaven! but thou,

alas!

Didst never yet one mortal song inspire
Goddess of Wisdom! here thy temple was,

And is, despite of war and wasting fire, 1

1

And years, that bade thy worship to expire: But worse than steel, and flame, and ages slow, Is the dread sceptre and dominion dire

Of men who never felt the sacred glow

That thoughts of thee and thine on polished breasts bestow.

II.

Ancient of days! august Athena! where,

Where are thy men of might? thy grand in soul? glimmering through the dream of things

Gone

that were:

First in the race that led to Glory's goal,

They won, and passed away is this the whole?

A school-boy's tale, the wonder of an hour! The warrior's weapon and the sophist's stole Are sought in vain, and o'er each mouldering tower,' Dim with the mist of years, grey flits the shade of power..

III.

Son of the morning, rise! approach you here! but molest not yon defenceless urn:

Come

[ocr errors]

Look on this spot - a nation's sepulchre!

Abode of gods, whose shrines no longer burn.

Even gods must yield — religions take their turn : "Twas Jove's 'tis Mahomet's- and other creeds

[ocr errors]

Will rise with other years, till man shall learn Vainly his incense soars, his victim bleeds; Poor child of Doubt and Death, whose hope is built

on reeds.

« PreviousContinue »