The sun, 39 XCIII. Let such approach this consecrated land, And pass in peace along the magic waste; But spare its relics-let no busy hand Deface the scenes, already how defaced! Not for such purpose were these altars placed; Revere the remnants nations once revered: So may our country's name be undisgraced, So may'st thou prosper where thy youth was rear'd By every honest joy of love and life endear'd! XCIV. For thee, who thus in too protracted song Hath soothed thine idlesse with inglorious lays, Soon shall thy voice be lost amid the thror g Of louder minstrels in these later days; To such resign the strife for fading bays,Ill may such contest now the spirit move Which heeds nor keen reproach nor partial praise; Since cold each kinder heart that might approve, And none are left to please, when none are left to love. XCV. Thou too art gone, thou loved and lovely one! The camp, the host, the fight, the conqueror's ca- Would he had ne'er returned, to find fresh cause to reer. XC. The flying Mede, his shaftless broken bow; roam. XCVI. Oh! ever loving, lovely, and beloved! How selfish Sorrow ponders on the past, The dust thy courser's hoof, rude stranger! spurns Hath snatch'd the little joy that life had yet to lend around. 30 XXI. The moon is up by Heaven, a lovely eve! Long streams of light o'er dancing waves expand; Now lads on shore may sigh, and maids believe. Such be our fate when we return to land! Meantime, some rude Arion's restless hand Wakes the brisk harmony that sailors love; A circle there of merry listeners stand, Or to some well-known measure featly move, Thoughtless, as if on shore they still were free to rove. XXII. Through Calpe's straits survey the steepy shore; XXVII. More blest the life of godly Eremite, Such as on lonely Athos may be seen, Watching at eve upon the giant height, Which looks o'er waves so blue, skies so sei ene That he who there at such an hour hath been Will wistful linger on that hallowed spot; Then slowly tear him from the witching scene, Sigh forth one wish that such had been his lot, Then turn to hate a world he had almost forgot. XXVIII. Pass we the long, unvarying course, the track From mountain cliff to coast descending sombre Till on some jocund morn―lo, land! and all is well 'Tis an old lesson; Time approves it true, If, kindly cruel, early Hope is crost, Sull to the last it rankles, a disease, Childe Harold sail'd, and pass'd the barren spot! XL. 'Twas on a Grecian autumn's gentle eve Childe Harold hail'd Leucadia's cape afar; A spot he long'd to see, nor cared to leave. Oft did he mark the scenes of vanish'd war, Actium, Lepanto, fatal Trafalgar; 13 Mark them unmoved, for he would not delight (Born beneath some remote inglorious star) In themes of bloody fray, or gallant fight, But loathed the bravo's trade, and laughed at mai tial wight. XLI. But when he saw the evening star above Not to be cured when Love itself forgets to please. More placid seem'd his eye, and smooth his pallid Here the red cross, for still the cross is here, Land of Albania! where Iskander rose, Theme of the young, and beacon of the wise, And he his namesake, whose oft-baffled foes Shrunk frota his deeds of chivalrous emprize: I..nd of Albania! let me bend mine eyes On thee, thon rugged nurse of savage men! The Cross descends, thy minarets arise, And the pale crescent sparkles in the glen, Through many a cypress grove within each city's Who from true worship's gold can separate thy ken. dross? |