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 LIBRARY 
 
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A ROMAUNT: 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER POEMS. 
 
 BY 
 
 LORD BYRON. 
 
 JL'nnivers est une espece de livre, dont on n'a lu que la premiere page quand on n'a vii que son pa-ytf, 
 J'en ai feuiliete un assez grand nombre, que j'ai trouv£ egalemem mauvaises. Cetexamen ne m'a 
 point ete infructueux. Je haissais ma pauie. Toutes les impertinences des peuples divers, parmi 
 lesquels j'ai vecu. m'ont i^cuncilie avec elle. Quand je n'auTais tire d'autie benefice de mes 
 voyages que celu • la, je n'en regrelierais nilesfrais, ni les fatigues. LB COSMOPOLITE. 
 
 NINTH EDITION. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE-STREET. 
 
 1815. 
 
T. DAV I SON, Lombard-street 
 Wbitefriars, London. 
 
Tr/R.A, 
 
 8,2.1. TG 
 
 TEmGCH 
 /US 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The following poem was written, for the 
 most part, amidst the scenes which it at- 
 tempts to describe. It was begun in Al- 
 bania ; and the parts relative to Spain and 
 Portugal were composed from the author's 
 observations in those countries. Thus 
 much it may be necessary to state for the 
 correctness of the descriptions. The scenes 
 attempted to be sketched are in Spain, 
 Portugal, Epirus, Acarnania, and Greece. 
 There for the present the poem stops : its 
 
 3Gft5SO 
 
IV 
 
 reception will determine whether the au- 
 thor may venture to conduct his readers to 
 the capital of the East, through Ionia and 
 Phrygia : these two cantos are merely ex* 
 perimental, 
 
 A fictitious character is introduced for 
 the sake of giving some connection to the 
 piece; which, however, makes no preten« 
 sion to regularity. It has been suggested 
 to me by friends, on whose opinions I set 
 a high value, that in this fictitious charac- 
 ter, " Childe Harold," I may incur the 
 suspicion of having intended some real 
 personage : this I beg leave, once for all, 
 to disclaim — Harold is the child of ima- 
 gination, for the purpose I have stated. In 
 some very trivial particulars, and those 
 
merely local, there might be grounds for 
 such a notion; but in the main points, I 
 should hope, none whatever. 
 
 It is almost superfluous to mention that 
 the appellation " Childe/' as " Childe 
 Waters/' " Childe Childers," &c. is used 
 as more consonant with the old structure 
 of versification which I have adopted. The 
 " Good Night/' in the beginning of the 
 first canto, was suggested by " Lord Max- 
 well's Good Night," in the Border Min- 
 strelsy, edited by Mr. Scott. 
 
 With the different poems which have 
 been published on Spanish subjects, there 
 may be found some slight coincidence in 
 the first part, which treats of the Penin- 
 
VI 
 
 sula, but it can only be casual; as, with 
 the exception of a few concluding stanzas, 
 the whole of this poem was written in the 
 Levant. 
 
 The stanza of Spenser, according to one 
 of our most successful poets, admits of 
 every variety. Dr. Beattie makes the fol- 
 lowing observation : " Not long ago I 
 began a poem in the style and stanza 
 of Spenser, in which I propose to give full 
 scope to my inclination, and be either droll 
 or pathetic, descriptive or sentimental, ten- 
 der or satirical, as the humour strikes me ; 
 for, if I mistake not, the measure which I 
 have adopted admits equally of all these 
 kinds of composition/'* — Strengthened in 
 
 * Beattie's Letters. 
 
Vll 
 
 my opinion by such authority, and by 
 the example of some in the highest order 
 of Italian poets, I shall make no apology 
 for attempts at similar variations in the 
 following composition ; satisfied that, if 
 they are unsuccessful, their failure must 
 be in the execution, rather than in the 
 design sanctioned by the practice of Ari- 
 osto, Thomson, and Beattie. 
 
 ADDITION TO THE 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 I have now waited till almost all our periodical journals 
 have distributed their usual portion of criticism. To the 
 justice of the generality of their criticisms I have nothing 
 to object ; it would ill become me to quarrel with their 
 very slight degree of censure, when, perhaps, if they had 
 
Yin 
 
 been less kind they had been more candid. Returning, 
 therefore, to all and each my best thanks for their li- 
 berality, on one point alone shall I venture an observation. 
 Amongst the many objections justly urged to the very in- 
 different character of the " vagrant Childe," (whom, 
 notwithstanding many hints to the contrary, I still main- 
 tain to be a fictitious personage,) it has been stated, that 
 besides the anachronism, he is very unknightiy, as the 
 times of the Knights were times of love, honour, and so 
 forth. Now it so happens that the good old times, 
 when " l'amour du bon vieux terns, Pamour antique" 
 flourished, were the most profligate of all possible cen- 
 turies. Those who have any doubts on this subject may 
 consult St. Palaye, passim, and more particularly vol. ii. 
 page 69. The vows of chivalry were no better kept 
 than any other vows whatsoever, and the songs of the 
 Troubadours were not more decent, and certainly were 
 much less refined, than those of Ovid. — The " Cours 
 d'amour, parlemens d'amour ou de courtesie et de gen- 
 tilesse" had much more of love than of courtesy or 
 gentleness. — See Holland on the same subject with St. 
 Palaye. — Whatever other objection may be urged to that 
 
IX 
 
 most unamiable personage Childe Harold, he was so far 
 perfectly knightly in his attributes — " No waiter, but a 
 knight templar."* — By the by, I fear that Sir Tristram 
 and Sir Lancelot were no better than they should be, 
 although very poetical personages and true knights " sans 
 peur," though not " sans reproche."— ^If the story of the 
 institution of the " Garter" be not a fable, the knights of 
 that order have for several centuries borne the badge of 
 a Countess of Salisbury, of indifferent memory. So 
 much for chivalry. Burke need not have regretted that 
 its days are over, though Maria Antoinette was quite as 
 chaste as most of those in whose honours lances were 
 shivered, and knights unhorsed. 
 
 Before the days of Bayard, and down to those of Sir 
 Joseph Banks (the most chaste and celebrated of ancient 
 and modern times), few exceptions will be found to this 
 statement, and I fear a little investigation will teach us 
 not to regret these monstrous mummeries of the middle 
 ages. 
 
 * The Rovers. Antijacobin. 
 b 
 
 t* 
 
I now leave " Childe Harold" to live his day, such as 1 
 he is; it had been more agreeable, and certainly more 
 easy, to have drawn an amiable character. It had been 
 easy to varnish over his faults, to make him do more 
 and express less, but he never was intended as an ex- 
 ample, further»than to show that early perversion of mind 
 and morals leads to satiety of past pleasures and disap- 
 pointment in new ones, and that even the beauties of 
 nature, and the stimulus of travel (except ambition, the 
 most powerful of all excitements) are lost on a soul 
 so constituted, or rather misdirected. Had I proceeded 
 with the Poem, this character would have deepened as 
 he drew to the close ; for the outline which I once meant 
 to fill up for him was, with some exceptions, the sketch of 
 a modern Timon, perhaps a poetical Zeluco. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 To Ianthe 3 
 
 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. Canto I. . 7 
 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. Canto II. . 65 
 
 Notes to Canto 1 121 
 
 Notes to Canto II 125 
 
 Poems. 
 
 I. Written in an Album ..... 191 
 II. To * * * 192 
 
 III. Stanzas ....... 195 
 
 IV. Stanzas 197 
 
 V. Written at Athens ..... 203 
 
 VI. Written after swimming from Sestos to Abydos 204 
 
 VII. Song 207 
 
 VIII. Translation of a Greek war song . , . 209 
 
 IX. Translation of a Romaic song . . .212 
 
 X. Written beneath a Picture . . . .215 
 
 XL On Parting . . . . . t 216 
 
 XII. To Thyrza 218 
 
 XIII. Stanzas 221 
 
 XIV. To Thyrza 223 
 
XU CONTENTS. 
 
 XV. Euthanasia . ; . . . .227 
 XVI. Stanzas ........ 230 
 
 XVII. Stanzas 234 
 
 XVIII. On a Cornelian Heart which was broken . 237 
 
 XIX. To a youthful Friend . . . .238 
 
 XX. To ***** * . . . . .243 
 
 XXI. From the Portuguese . . . . 245 
 
 XXII. Impromptu in Reply to a Friend . . 246 
 
 XXIII. Address on the opening of Drury-lane Theatre 246 
 
 XXIV. To Time 250 
 
 XXV. Translation of a Romaic Love Song . . 252 
 
 XXVI. A Song . . . . . . .255 
 
 XXVII. Origin of Love 257 
 
 XXVIII. Remember him 257 
 
 XXIX. Lines inscribed upon a cup formed from a skull 26 1 
 
 XXX. On the death of Sir Peter Parker . . .263 
 
 Appendix 267 
 
 Romaic Books and Authors . .'"''. 270 
 Specimens of the Romaic .... 275 
 
Ctntoe INroto'$ $tlsntnage. 
 
 A ROMAUNT. 
 
TO IANTHE. 
 
 Not in those climes where I have late been straying, 
 Though Beauty long hath there been matchless deem'd ; 
 Not in those visions to the heart displaying 
 Forms which it sighs but to have only dream'd, 
 Hath aught like thee in truth or fancy seem'd : 
 Nor, having seen thee, shall I vainly seek 
 To paint those charms which varied as they beam'd — 
 To such as see thee not my words were weak; 
 To those who gaze on thee what language could they speak? 
 
 b 2 
 
Ah ! may'st thou ever he what now thou art, 
 Nor unbeseem the promise of thy spring, 
 As fair in form, as warm yet pure in heart, 
 Love's image upon earth without his wing, 
 And guileless beyond Hope's imagining ! 
 And surely she who now so fondly rears 
 Thy youth, in thee, thus hourly brightening, 
 Beholds the rainbow of her future years, 
 Before whose heavenly hues all sorrow disappears. 
 
 Young Peri of the West !— 'tis well for me 
 My years already doubly number thine ; 
 My loveless eye unmov'd may gaze on thee, 
 And safely view thy ripening beauties shine ; 
 Happy, I ne'er shall see them in decline, 
 Happier, that while all younger hearts shall bleed, 
 Mine shall escape the doom thine eyes assign 
 To those whose admiration shall succeed, 
 But mixed with pangs to Love's even loveliesthours decreed. 
 
Oh ! let that eye, which, wild as the Gazelle's, 
 Now brightly bold or beautifully shy, 
 Wins as it wanders, dazzles where it dwells, 
 Glance o'er this page; nor to my verse deny 
 That smile for which my breast might vainly sigh, 
 Could I to thee be ever more than friend : 
 This much, dear maid, accord ; nor question why 
 To one so young my strain I would commend, 
 But bid me with my wreath one matchless lily blend. 
 
 Such is thy name with this my verse entwin'd ; 
 And long as kinder eyes a look shall cast 
 On Harold's page, Ianthe's here enshrin'd 
 Shall thus be first beheld, forgotten last : 
 My days once number'd, should this homage past 
 Attract thy fairy fingers near the lyre 
 Of him who hail'd thee, loveliest as thou wast, 
 Such is the most my memory may desire ; 
 Though more than Hope can claim, could Friendship less 
 require ? 
 
CfjtlDe HarolUs ^Iffrimage* 
 
 A ROMAUNT. 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 I. 
 
 Oh, thou ! in Hellas deem'd of heav'nly birth, 
 Muse ! form'd or fabled at the minstrel's will ! 
 Since sham'd full oft by later lyres on earth, 
 Mine dares not call thee from thy sacred hill : 
 Yet there I've wander'd by thy vaunted rill ; 
 Yes ! sigh'd o'er Delphi's long-deserted shrine, 1 
 Where, save that feeble fountain, all is still ; 
 Nor mote my shell awake the weary Nine 
 To grace so plain a tale — this lowly lay of mine. 
 
» CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto I. 
 
 II. 
 
 Whilome in Albion's isle there dwelt a youth, 
 Who ne in virtue's ways did take delight ; 
 But spent his days in riot most uncouth, 
 And vex'd with mirth the drowsy ear of Night. 
 Ah, me ! in sooth he was a shameless wight, 
 Sore given to revel and ungodly glee ; 
 Few earthly things found favour in his sight 
 Save concubines and carnal companie, 
 And flaunting wassailers of high and low degree. 
 
 III. 
 
 Childe Harold was he hight : — but whence his name 
 And lineage long, it suits me not to say ; 
 Suffice it, that perchance they were of fame, 
 And had been glorious in another day: 
 But one sad losel soils a name for aye, 
 However mighty in the olden time ; 
 Nor all that heralds rake from cofhn'd clay, 
 Nor florid prose, nor honied lies of rhyme 
 Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime, 
 
Canto I. PILGRIMAGE. ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Childe Harold bask'd him in the noon-tide sun, 
 Disporting there like any other fly ; 
 Nor deem'd before his little day was done 
 One blast might chill him into misery. 
 But long ere scarce a third of his pass'd by, 
 Worse than adversity the Childe befell; 
 He felt the fulness of satiety : 
 Then loath'd he in his native land to dwell, 
 Which seem'd to him more lone than Eremite's sad cell. 
 
 V. 
 
 For he through Sin's long labyrinth had run, 
 Nor made atonement when he did amiss, 
 Had sigh'd to many though he lov'd but one, 
 And that lov'd one, alas ! could ne'er be his. 
 Ah, happy she ! to 'scape from him whose kiss 
 Had been pollution unto aught so chaste ; 
 Who soon had left her charms for vulgar bliss, 
 And spoil'd her goodly lands to gild his waste, 
 Nor calm domestic peace had ever deign'd to taste. 
 
10 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto £ 
 
 VI. 
 
 And now Childe Harold was sore sick at heart, 
 And from his fellow bacchanals would flee ; 
 'Tis said, at times the sullen tear would start, 
 But Pride congeal'd the drop within his ee : 
 Apart he stalk'd in joyless reverie, 
 And from his native land resolv'd to go, 
 And visit scorching climes beyond the sea ; 
 With pleasure drugg'd he almost long'd for woe, 
 And e'en for change of scene would seek the shades below. 
 
 VII. 
 
 The Childe departed from his father's hall : 
 It was a vast and venerable pile ; 
 So old, it seemed only not to fall, 
 Yet strength was pillar'd in each massy aisle. 
 Monastic dome ! condemn'd to uses vile ! 
 Where Superstition once had made her den 
 Now Paphian girls were known to sing and smile ; 
 And monks might deem their time was come agen, 
 If ancient tales say true, nor wrong these holy men. 
 
Canto J. PILGRIMAGE. * l 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Yet oft-times* in his maddest mirthful mood 
 Strange pangs would flash along Childe Harold's hrow, 
 As if the memory of some deadly feud 
 Or disappointed passion lurk'd below : 
 But this none knew, nor haply car'd to know ; 
 For his was not that open, artless soul 
 That feels relief by bidding sorrow flow, 
 Nor sought he friend to counsel or condole, 
 Whate'er his grief mote be, which he could not control. 
 
 IX. 
 
 And none did love him — though to hall and bower 
 He gather'd revellers from far and near, 
 He knew them flatt'rers of the festal hour; 
 The heartless parasites of present cheer. 
 Yea ! none did love him — not his lemans dear — 
 But pomp and power alone are woman's care, 
 And where these are light Eros finds a feere; 
 Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare, 
 And Mammon wins his way where Seraphs might despair. 
 
12 CHILDE HAROLD'S Oantol. 
 
 X. 
 
 Childe Harold had a mother — not forgot, 
 Though parting from that mother he did shun ; 
 A sister whom he lov'd, but saw her not 
 Before his weary pilgrimage begun : 
 If friends he had, he bade adieu to none. 
 Yet deem not thence his breast a breast of steel ; 
 Ye, who have known what 'tis to doat upon 
 A few dear objects, will in sadness feel 
 Such partings break the heart they fondly hope to heal. 
 
 XL 
 
 His house, his home, his heritage, his lands, 
 The laughing dames in whom he did delight, 
 Whose large blue eyes, fair locks, and snowy hands 
 Might shake the saintship of an anchorite, 
 And long had fed his youthful appetite ; 
 His goblets brimm'd with every costly wine, 
 And all that mote to luxury invite, 
 Without a sigh he left, to cross the brine, 
 And traverse Paynim shores, and pass Earth's central line. 
 
Canto J. PILGRIMAGE. 13 
 
 XII. 
 
 The sails were fill'd, and fair the light winds blew, 
 As glad to waft him from his native home ; 
 And fast the white rocks faded from his view, 
 And soon were lost in circumambient foam : 
 And then, it may be, of his wish to roam 
 Repented he, but in his bosom slept 
 The silent thought, nor from his lips did come 
 One word of wail, whilst others sate and wept, 
 And to the reckless gales unmanly moaning kept. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 But when the sun was sinking in the sea 
 He seiz'd his harp, which he at times could string, 
 And strike, albeit with untaught melody, 
 When deem'd he no strange ear was listening : 
 And now his fingers o'er it he did fling, 
 And tun'd his farewell in the dim twilight. 
 While flew the vessel on her snowy wing, 
 And fleeting shores receded from his sight, 
 Thus to the elements he pour'd his last " Good Night." 
 
14 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto I. 
 
 1. 
 
 " Adieu, adieu! my native shore 
 
 Fades o'er the waters blue ; 
 The Night-winds sigh, the breakers roar, 
 
 And shrieks the wild seamew. 
 Yon Sun that sets upon the sea 
 
 We follow in his flight ; 
 Farewell awhile to him and thee, 
 
 My native Land — Good JNight. 
 
 2. 
 H A few short hours and He will rise 
 
 To give the Morrow birth ; 
 And I shall hail the main and skies, 
 
 But not my mother Earth. 
 Deserted is my own good hall, 
 
 Its hearth is desolate ; 
 Wild weeds are gathering on the wall 
 
 My dog howls at the gate. 
 
Ccmto I. PILGRIMAGE. 
 
 3. 
 " Come hither, hither, my little page ! 
 
 Why dost thou weep and wail ? 
 Or dost thou dread the billows* rage, 
 
 Or tremble at the gale ? 
 But dash the tear-drop from thine eye ; 
 
 Our ship is swift and strong : 
 Our fleetest falcon scarce can fly 
 
 More merrily along." 
 
 4. 
 
 " Let winds be shrill, let waves roll high, 
 
 I fear not wave nor wind ; 
 Yet marvel not, Sir Childe, that I 
 
 Am sorrowful in mind ; 
 For I have from my father gone, 
 
 A mother whom I love, 
 And have no friend, save these alone, 
 
 But thee — and one above. 
 
 15 
 
16 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto I 
 
 5. 
 
 " My father bless'd me fervently, 
 
 Yet did not much complain ; 
 But sorely will my mother sigh 
 
 Till I come back again." — 
 il Enough, enough, my little lad J 
 
 Such tears become thine eye ; 
 If I thy guileless bosom had 
 
 Mine own would not be dry. 
 
 6. 
 
 ** Come hither, hither, my staunch yeoman, 
 
 Why dost thou look so pale ? 
 Or dost thou dread a French foeman r 
 
 Or shiver at the gale ?" — 
 " Deem'st thou I tremble for my life ? 
 
 Sir Childe, I'm not so weak ; 
 But thinking on an absent wife 
 
 Will blanch a faithful cheek. 
 
Canto I. PILGRIMAGE. 17 
 
 7. 
 
 " My spouse and boys dwell near thy hall, 
 
 Along the bordering lake, 
 And when they on their father call, 
 
 What answer shall she make :" — 
 " Enough, enough, my yeoman good, 
 
 Thy grief let none gainsaj'; 
 But I, who am of lighter mood, 
 
 Will laugh to flee away. 
 
 8. 
 " For who would trust the seeming sighs 
 
 Of wife or paramour ? 
 Fresh feres will dry the bright blue eyes 
 
 We late saw streaming o'er. 
 For pleasures past I do not grieve, 
 
 Nor perils gathering near ; 
 My greatest grief is that I leave 
 
 No thing that claims a tear. 
 
18 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto I. 
 
 9. 
 
 " And now Fm in the world alone, 
 
 Upon the wide, wide sea : 
 But why should I for others groan, 
 
 When none will sigh for me ? 
 Perchance my dog will whine in vain, 
 
 Till fed by stranger hands ; 
 But long ere I come back again, 
 
 He'd tear me where he stands. 
 
 10. 
 " With thee, my bark, I'll swiftly go 
 
 Athwart the foaming brine ; 
 Nor care what land thou bear'st me to, 
 
 So not again to mine. 
 Welcome, welcome, ye dark-blue waves ! 
 
 And when you fail my sight, 
 Welcome, ye deserts, and ye caves ! 
 
 My native Land — Good Night 1" 
 
Canto L, PILGRIMAGE. . 19 
 
 XIV. 
 
 On, on the vessel flies, the land is gone, 
 And winds are rude in Biscay's sleepless bay. 
 Four days are sped, but with the fifth, anon, 
 New shores descried make every bosom gay; 
 And Cintra's mountain greets them on their way, 
 And Tagus dashing onward to the deep, 
 His fabled golden tribute bent to pay; 
 And soon on board the Lusian pilots leap, 
 And steer 'twixt fertile shores where yet few rustics reap. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Oh, Christ! it is a goodly sight to see 
 What heaven hath done for this delicious land ! 
 What fruits of fragrance blush on every tree ! 
 What goodly prospects o'er the hills expand ! 
 But man would mar them with an impious hand : 
 And when the Almighty lifts his fiercest scourge 
 'Gainst those who most transgress his high command, 
 With treble vengeance will his hot shafts urge 
 Gaul's locust host, and earth from fellest foemen purge. 
 
 c 2 
 
20 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto I. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 What beauties doth Lisboa first unfold ! 
 Her image floating on that noble tide, 
 Which poets vainly pave with sands of gold, 
 But now whereon a thousand keels did ride 
 Of mighty strength, since Albion was allied, 
 And to the Lusians did her aid afford : 
 A nation swoln with ignorance and pride, 
 Who lick yet loath the hand that waves the sword 
 To save them from the wrath of Gaul's unsparing lord, 
 
 XVII. 
 
 But whoso entereth within this town, 
 That, sheening far, celestial seems to be, 
 Disconsolate will wander up and down, 
 'Mid many things unsightly to strange ee ; 
 For hut and palace show like filthily : 
 The dingy denizens are rear'd in dirt ; 
 Ne personage of high or mean degree 
 Doth care for cleanness of surtout or shirt, 
 Though shent with Egypt's plague, unkempt, unwash'd ; unhurt. 
 
Canto I. PILGRIMAGE. 21 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Poor, paltry slaves ! yet born 'midst noblest scenes — 
 Why, Nature, waste thy wonders on such men ? 
 Lo ! Cintra's glorious Eden intervenes 
 In variegated maze of mount and glen. 
 Ah, me ! what hand can pencil guide, or £eu, 
 To follow half on which the eye dilates 
 Through views more dazzling unto mortal ken 
 Than those whereof such things the bard relates, 
 Who to the awe-struck world unloek'd Elysium's gates I 
 
 XIX. 
 
 The horrid «rags, by toppling convent crown'd, 
 The cork-trees hoar that clothe the shaggy steep, 
 The mountain-moss by scorching skies imbrown'd, 
 The sunken glen, whose sunless shrubs must weep, 
 The tender azure of the unruffled deep, 
 The orange tints that gild the greenest bough, 
 The torrents that from cliff to valley leap, 
 The vine on high, the willow branch below, 
 Mix'd in one mighty scene, with varied beauty glow. 
 
23 CFIILDE HAROLD'S Canto I. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Then slowly climb the many-winding way, 
 And frequent turn to linger as you go, 
 From loftier rocks new loveliness survey, 
 And rest ye at our " Lady's house of woe ;" 2 
 Where frugal monks their little relics show, 
 And sundry legends to the stranger tell : 
 Here impious men have punish'd been, and 3o! 
 Deep in yon cave Honorius long did dwell, 
 In hope to merit Heaven by making earth a Hell. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 And here and there, as up the crags you spring, 
 Mark many rude-carv'd crosses near the path: 
 Yet deem not these devotion's offering — 
 These are memorials frail of murderous wrath : 
 For wheresoe'er the shrieking victim hath 
 Pour'd forth his blood beneath the assassin's knife 
 Some hand erects a cross of mouldering lath ; 
 And grove and glen with thousand such are rife 
 Throughout this purple land, where law secures not life. 3 
 
Canto I. PILGRIMAGE. 25 
 
 XXII. 
 
 On sloping mounds, or in the vale beneath, 
 Are domes where whilome kings did make repair ; 
 But now the wild flowers round them only breathe ; 
 Yet ruin'd splendour still is lingering there. 
 And yonder towers the Prince's palace fair : 
 There thou too, Vathek ! England's wealthiest son, 
 Once form'd thy Paradise, as not aware 
 When wanton Wealth her mightiest deeds hath done, 
 Meek Peace voluptuous lures was ever wont to shun. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Here didst thou dwell, here schemes of pleasure plan, 
 Beneath yon mountain's ever beauteous brow :j 
 But now, as if a thing unblest by Man, 
 Thy fairy dwelling is as lone as thou ! 
 Here giant weeds a passage scarce allow 
 To halls deserted, portals gaping wide : 
 Fresh lessons to the thinking bosom, how 
 Vain are the pleasaunces on earth supplied ; 
 Swept into wrecks anon by Time's ungentle tide ! 
 
24' CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto T. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Behold the hall where chiefs were late conven'd ! 4 
 Oh! dome displeasing unto British eye! 
 With diadem hight foolscap, lo ! a fiend, 
 A little fiend that scoffs incessantly, 
 There sits in parchment robe array 'd, and by 
 His side is hung a seal and sable scroll, 
 Where blazon' d glare names known to chivalry, 
 And sundry signatures adorn the roll, 
 Whereat the Urchin points and laughs with all his soul. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Convention is the dwarfish demon styl'd 
 That foil'd the knights in Marialva's dome: 
 Of brains (if brains they had) he them beguil'd, 
 And turn'd a nation's shallow joy to gloom. 
 Here Folly dash'd to earth the victor's plume, 
 And Policy regained what arms had lost: 
 For chiefs like ours in vain may laurels bloom ! 
 Woe to the conqu'ring, not the conquer'd host, 
 Since baffled Triumph droops on Lusitania's coast ! 
 
Cmto I. PILGRIMAGE. -5 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 And ever since that martial synod met, 
 Britannia sickens, Cintra! at thy name; 
 And folks in office at the mention fret, 
 And fain would blush, if blush they could, for shame. 
 How will posterity the deed proclaim! 
 Will not our own and fellow-nations sneer, 
 To view these champions cheated of their fame, 
 By foes in fight o'erthrown, yet victors here, 
 Where Scorn her finger points through many a coming year? 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 So deem'd the Childe, as o'er the mountains he 
 Did take his way in solitary guise : 
 Sweet was the scene, yet soon he thought to flee, 
 More restless than the swallow in the skies : 
 Though here awhile he learn 'd to moralize, 
 For Meditation fix'd at times on him ; 
 And conscious Reason whisper'd to despise 
 His early youth, mispent in maddest whim ; 
 But as he gaz'd on truth b.is aching eyes grew dim 
 
26 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto I. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 To horse ! to horse ! he quits, for ever quits 
 A scene of peace, though soothing to his soul : 
 Again he rouses from his moping fits, 
 But seeks not now the harlot and the bowl. 
 Onward he flies, nor fix'd as yet the goal 
 Where he shall rest him on his pilgrimage ; 
 And o'er him many changing scenes must roll 
 Ere toil his thirst for travel can assuage, 
 Or he shall calm his breast, or learn experience sage. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Yet Mafra shall one moment claim delay, 5 
 Where dwelt of yore the Lusian's luckless queen > 
 And church and court did mingle their array, 
 And mass and revel were alternate seen ; 
 Lordlings and freres — ill sorted fry I ween ! 
 But here the Babylonian whore hath built 
 A dome where flaunts she in such glorious sheen, 
 That men forget the blood which she hath spilt, 
 And bow the knee to Pomp that loves to varnish guilt. 
 
Canto I. PILGRIMAGE. 2 7 
 
 XXX. 
 
 O'er vales that teem with fruits, romantic hills, 
 (Oh, that such hills upheld a freeborn race !) 
 Whereon to gaze the eye with joyaunce fills, 
 Chilcle Harold wends through many a pleasant place. 
 Though sluggards deem it but a foolish chase, 
 And marvel men should quit their easy chair, 
 The toilsome way, and long, long league to trace, 
 Oh ! there is sweetness in the mountain air, 
 And life, that bloated Ease can never hope to share. 
 
 XXXT. 
 
 More bleak to view the hills at length recede, 
 And, less luxuriant, smoother vales extend : 
 Immense horizon-bounded plains succeed ! 
 Far as the eye discerns, withouten end, 
 Spain's realms appear whereon her shepherds tend 
 Flocks whose rich fleece right well the trader knows — 
 Now must the pastor's arms his lambs defend : 
 For Spain is compass'd by unyielding foes, 
 And all must shield their all, or share Subjection's woes. 
 
28 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto I. 
 
 XXXIL 
 
 Where Lusitania and her sister meet, 
 Deem ye what bounds the rival realms divide i 
 Or ere the jealous queens of nations greet, 
 Doth Tayo interpose his mighty tide ? 
 Or dark Sierras rise in craggy pride ? 
 Or fence of art, like China's vasty wall ? — 
 Ne barrier wall, ne river deep and wide, 
 Ne horrid crags, nor mountains dark and tall, 
 Rise like the rocks that part Hispania's land from Gaul : 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 But these between a silver streamlet glides, 
 And scarce a name distinguisheth the brook, 
 Though rival kingdoms press its verdant sides. 
 Here leans the idle shepherd on his crook, 
 And vacant on the rippling waves doth look, 
 That peaceful still 'twixt bitterest foemen flow ; 
 For proud each peasant as the noblest duke : 
 Well doth the Spanish hind the difference know 
 'Twixt him and Lusian slave, the lowest of the low. fi 
 
Canto I. PILGRIMAGE. 29 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 But ere the mingling bounds have far been pass'd 
 Dark Guadiana rolls his power along 
 In sullen billows, murmuring and vast, 
 So noted ancient roundelays among. 
 Whilome upon his banks did legions throng 
 Of Moor and knight, in mailed splendour drest : 
 Here ceas'd the swift their race, here sunk the strong ; 
 The Paynim turban and the Christian crest 
 Mix'd on the bleeding stream, by floating hosts oppress'd. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Oh, lovely Spain J renown'd, romantic land ! 
 Where is that standard which Pelagio bore, 
 When Cava's traitor-sire first call'd the band 
 That dy'd thy mountain streams with Gothic gore ? 
 Where are those bloody banners which of yore 
 Wav'd o'er thy sons, victorious to the gale, 
 And drove at last the spoilers to their shore ? 
 Red gleam'd the cross, and wan'd the crescent pale, 
 While Afric's echoes thrill'd with Moorish matrons' wail. 
 
30 CHILDE HAROLDS , Canto I. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Teems not each ditty with the glorious tale ? 
 Ah ! such, alas ! the hero's amplest fate ! 
 When granite moulders and when records fail, 
 A peasant's plaint prolongs his dubious date. 
 Pride! bend thine eye from heaven to thine estate; 
 See how the Mighty shrink into a song ! 
 Can Volume, Pillar, Pile preserve thee great ? 
 Or must thou trust Tradition's simple tongue, 
 When Flattery sleeps with thee, and History does thee wrong ? 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Awake, ye sons of Spain ! awake ! advance ! 
 Lo ! Chivalry, your ancient goddess, cries, 
 But wields not, as of old, her thirsty lance, 
 Nor shakes her crimson plumage in the skies : 
 Now on the smoke of blazing bolts she flies, 
 And speaks in thunder through yon engine's roar : 
 In every peal she calls—" Awake ! arise !" 
 Say, is her voice more feeble than of yore, 
 When her war-song was heard on Andalusia's shore ? 
 
Canto I. PILGRIMAGE. 3 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Hark ! — heard you not those hoofs of dreadful note ? 
 Sounds not the clang of conflict on the heath ? 
 Saw ye not whom the reeking sabre smote ; 
 Nor sav'd your brethren ere they sank beneath 
 Tyrants and tyrants* slaves ? — the fires of death, 
 The bale-fires flash on high : — from rock to rock 
 Each volley tells that thousands cease to breathe ; 
 Death rides upon the sulphury Siroc, 
 Red Battle stamps his foot, and nations feel the shock. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Lo ! where the Giant on the mountain stands, 
 His blood-red tresses deep'ning in the sun, 
 With death-shot glowing in his fiery hands, 
 And eye that scorcheth all it glares upon ; 
 Restless it rolls, now fix'd, and now anon 
 Flashing afar, — and at his iron feet 
 Destruction cowers to mark what deeds are done ; 
 For on this morn three potent nations meet, 
 To shed before his shrine the blood he deems most sweet. 
 
32 CHILDE HAROLDS Canto I. 
 
 XL. 
 
 By Heaven ! it is a splendid sight to see 
 (For one who hath no friend, no brother there) 
 Their rival scarfs of mix'd embroidery, 
 Their various arms that glitter in the air! 
 What gallant war-hounds rouse them from their lair, 
 And gnash their fangs, loud yelling for the prey ! 
 All join the chase, but few the triumph share; 
 The Grave shall bear the chiefest prize away, 
 And Havoc scarce for joy can number their array. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Three hosts combine to offer sacrifice ; 
 Three tongues prefer strange orisons on high ; 
 Three gaudy standards flout the pale blue skies ; 
 The shouts are France, Spain, Albion, Victory ! 
 The foe, the victim, and the fond ally 
 That fights for all, but ever fights in vain, 
 Are met — as if at home they could not die — 
 To feed the crow on Talavera's plain, 
 Arid fertilize the field that each pretends to gain. 
 
Canto I. PILGRIMAGE. 33 
 
 XLII. 
 
 There shall they rot — Ambition's honour'd fools ! 
 Yes, Honour decks the turf that wraps their clay ! 
 Vain Sophistry ! in these behold the tools, 
 The broken tools, that tyrants cast away 
 By myriads, when they dare to pave their way 
 With human hearts — to what? — a dream alone. 
 Can despots compass aught that hails their sway? 
 Or call with truth one span of earth their own, 
 Save that wherein at last they crumble bone by bone ? 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Oh, Albuera! glorious field of grief ! 
 As o'er thy plain the Pilgrim prick'd his steed, 
 Who could foresee thee, in a space so brief, 
 A scene where mingling foes should boast and bleed ! 
 Peace to the perish'd ! may the warrior's meed 
 And tears of triumph their reward prolong ! 
 Till others fall where other chieftains lead 
 Thy name shall circle round the gaping throng, 
 And shine in worthless lays, the theme of transient song! 
 
 D 
 
34 CHILDE HAROI»D'S Canto I. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Enough of Battle's minions ! let them play 
 Their game of lives, and barter breath for fame: 
 Fame that will scarce reanimate their clay, 
 Though thousands fall to deck some single name. 
 In sooth 'twere sad to thwart their noble aim 
 Who strike, blest hirelings ! for their country's good, 
 And die, that living might have prov'd her shame ; 
 Perish'd, perchance, in some domestic feud, 
 Or in a narrower sphere wild Rapine's path pursu'd. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 Full swiftly Harold wends his lonely way 
 Where proud Sevilla triumphs unsubdued : - 
 Yet is she free — the spoiler's wish'd-for prey ! 
 Soon, soon shall Conquest's fiery foot intrude, 
 Blackening her lovely domes with traces rude. 
 Inevitable hour ! 'Gainst fate to strive 
 Where Desolation plants her famish'd brood 
 Is vain, or Uion, Tyre might yet survive, 
 And Virtue vanquish all, and Murder cease to thrive. 
 
Canto 1. PILGRIMAGE. 3; 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 But all unconscious of the coming doom, 
 The feast, the song, the revel here abounds ; 
 Strange modes of merriment the hours consume, 
 Nor bleed these patriots with their country's wounds : 
 Not here War's clarion, but Love's rebeck sounds ; 
 Here Folly still his votaries enthralls ; 
 And young-eyed Lewdness walks her midnight rounds 
 Girt with the silent crimes of Capitals, 
 Still to the last kind Vice clings to the tott'ring walls. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 Not so the rustic — with his trembling mate 
 He lurks, nor casts his heavy eye afar, 
 Lest he should view his vineyard desolate, 
 , Blasted below the dun hot breath of war. 
 No more beneath soft Eve's consenting star , 
 Fandango twirls his jocund castanet: 
 Ah, monarchs ! could ye taste the mirth ye mar, . 
 Not in the toils of Glory would ye fret; 
 Thehoarse dull drum would sleep, and Man be happy yet! 
 
 D2 
 
36 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto L 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 How carols now the lusty muleteer? 
 Of love, romance, devotion is his lay, 
 As- whilome he was wont the leagues to cheer, 
 His quick bells wildly jingling on the way ? 
 No! as he speeds, he chaunts ; " Viva el Rey!" 9 
 And checks his song to execrate Godoy, 
 The royal wittol Charles, and curse the day 
 When first Spain's queen beheld the black-ey'd boy, 
 And gore-fac'd Treason sprung from her adulterate joy. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 On yon long, level plain, at distance crown'd 
 With crags, whereon those Moorish turrets rest, 
 Wide scatter'd hoof-marks dint the wounded ground ; 
 And, scath'd by fire, the green sward's darken'd vest 
 Tells that the foe was Andalusia's guest: 
 Here was the camp, the watch-flame, and the host, 
 Here the bold peasant storm'd the dragon's nest ; 
 Still does he mark it with triumphant boast, 
 And points to yonder cliffs, which oft were won and lost. 
 
Canto /. PILGRIMAGE. 37 
 
 L. 
 
 And whomsoe'er along the path you meet 
 Bears in his cap the badge of crimson hue, 
 Which tells you whom to shun and whom to greet: 9 
 Woe to the man that walks in public view 
 Without of loyalty this token true : 
 Sharp is the knife, and sudden is the stroke ; 
 And sorely would the Gallic foeman rue, 
 If subtle poniards, wrapt beneath the cloke, 
 Could blunt the sabre's edge, or clear the cannon's smoke. 
 
 LI. 
 
 At every turn Morena's dusky height 
 Sustains aloft the battery's iron load ; 
 And, far as mortal eye can compass sight, 
 The mountain-howitzer, the broken road, 
 The bristling palisade, the fosse o'er-flow'd, 
 The station'd bands, the never-vacant watch, 
 The magazine in rocky durance stow'd, 
 The holster' d steed beneath the shed of thatch, 
 Thei>all-pil'd pyramid, the ever-blazing match, 10 
 
38 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto I. 
 
 III. 
 
 Portend the deeds to come : — but he whose nod 
 Has tumbled feebler despots from their sway 
 A moment pauseth ere he lifts the rod ; 
 A little moment deigneth to delay: 
 Soon will his legions sweep through these their way; 
 The West must own the Seourger of the world. 
 Ah ! Spain ! how sad will be thy reckoning-day, 
 When soars Gaul's Vulture, with his wings unfurl'd, 
 And thou shalt view thy sons in crowds to Hades huii'd. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 And must they fall ? the young, the proud, the brave, 
 To swell one bloated Chief's unwholesome reign ? 
 No step between submission and a grave ? 
 The rise of rapine and the fall of Spain ? 
 And doth the Power that man adores ordain 
 Their doom, nor heed the suppliant's appeal? 
 Is all that desperate Valour acts in vain ? 
 And Counsel sage, and patriotic Zeal, 
 The Veteran's skill, Youth's fire, and Manhood's heart of steel ? 
 
Canto I. PILGRIMAGE. J9 
 
 LIV* 
 
 Is it for this the Spanish maid, arous'd, 
 Hangs on the willow her unstrung guitar, 
 And, all unsex'd, the Anlace hath espous'd, 
 Sung the loud song, and dar'd the deed of war ? 
 And she, whom once the semblance of a scar 
 Appall'd, an owlet's larum chill'd with dread, 
 Now views the column-scattering bay'net jar, 
 The falchion flash, and o'er the yet warm dead 
 Stalks with Minerva's step where Mars might quake to tread. 
 
 LV. 
 
 Ye who shall marvel when you hear her tale, 
 Oh! had you known her in her softer hour, 
 Mark'd her black eye that mocks her coal-black veil, 
 Heard her light, lively tones in Lady's bower, 
 Seen her long locks that foil the painter's power, 
 Her fairy form, with more than female grace, 
 Scarce would you deem that Saragoza's tower 
 Beheld her smile in Danger's Gorgon face, 
 Thin the clos'd ranks, and lead in Glory's fearful chase. 
 
40 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto I. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Her lover sinks — she sheds no ill-tim'd tear ; 
 Her chief is slain — she fills his fatal post ; 
 Her fellows flee — she checks their hase career * 
 The foe retires — she heads the sallying host : 
 Who can appease like her a lover's ghost ? 
 Who can avenge so well a leader's fall ? 
 What maid retrieve when man's flush'd hope is lost ? 
 Who hang so fiercely on the flying Gaul, 
 Foil'd by a woman's hand, before a batter'd wall ? " 
 
 Lvir. 
 
 Yet are Spain's maids no race of Amazons, 
 But form'd for all the witching arts of love : 
 Though thus in arms they emulate her sons, 
 And in the horrid phalanx dare to move, 
 'Tis but the tender fierceness of the dove 
 Pecking the hand that hovers q'er her mate : 
 In softness as in firmness far above 
 Remoter females, fam'd for sickening prate ; 
 Her mind is nobler sure, her charms perchance as great. 
 
Canto I. PILGRIMAGE. 41 
 
 Lvnr. 
 
 The seal Love's dimpling finger hath impress'd 
 Denotes how soft that chin which bears his touch : n 
 Her lips, whose kisses pout to leave their nest, 
 Bid man be valiant ere he merit such : 
 Her glance how wildly beautiful ! how much 
 Hath Phoebus woo'd in vain to spoil her cheek, 
 Which glows yet smoother from his amorous clutch ! 
 Who round the North for paler dames would seek ? 
 How poor their forms appear ! how languid, wan, and weak ! 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Match me, ye climes ! which poets love to laud ; 
 Match me, ye harams of the land ! where now 
 I strike my strain, far distant, to applaud 
 Beauties that ev'n a cynic must avow ; 
 Match me those Houries, whom ye scarce allow 
 To taste the gale lest Love should ride the wind, 
 With Spain's dark-glancing daughters — deign to know, 
 There your wise Prophet's paradise we find, 
 His black-eyed maids of Heaven, angelically kind. 
 
42 CHILDE HAROLD'S Ccmto 1. 
 
 LX. 
 
 Oh, thou Parnassus ! 13 whom I now survey, 
 Not in the phrenzy of a dreamer's eye, 
 Not in the fabled landscape of a lay, 
 But soaring snow-clad through thy native sky, 
 In the wild pomp of mountain majesty! 
 What marvel if I thus essay to sing ? 
 The humblest of thy pilgrims passing by 
 Would gladly woo thine Echoes with his string, 
 Thoughfrom thyheights no moreoneMuse will wave her wing. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 Oft have I dream'd of Thee ! whose glorious name 
 Who knows not, knows not man's divinest lore : 
 And now I view thee, 'tis, alas ! with shame 
 That I in feeblest accents must adore. 
 When I recount thy worshippers of yore 
 I tremble, and can only bend the knee ; 
 Nor raise my voice, nor vainly dare to soar, 
 But gaze beneath thy cloudy canopy 
 In silent joy to think at last I look on Thee ! 
 
Canto I. PILGRIMAGE. 43 
 
 LXII. 
 
 Happier in this than mightiest bards have been, 
 Whose fate to distant homes confin'd their lot, 
 Shall I unmov'd behold the hallow'd scene, 
 Which others rave of, though they know it not ? 
 Though here no more Apollo haunts his grot, 
 And thou, the Muses' seat, art now their grave, 
 Some gentle Spirit still pervades the spot, 
 Sighs in the gale, keeps silence in the cave, 
 And glides with glassy foot o'er yon melodious Wave. 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 Of thee hereafter. — Ev'n amidst my strain 
 I turn'd aside to pay my homage here ; 
 Forgot the land, the sons, the maids of Spain; 
 Her fate, to every freeborn bosom dear, 
 And hail'd thee, not perchance without a tear. 
 Now to my theme — but from thy holy haunt 
 Let me some remnant, some memorial bear ; 
 Yield me one leaf of Daphne's deathless plant, 
 Nor let thy votary's hope be deem'd an idle vaunt. 
 
44 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto I, 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 Butne'er didst thou, fair Mount! when Greece was young, 
 See round thy giant base a brighter choir, 
 Nor e'er did Delphi, when her priestess sung 
 The Pythian hymn with more than mortal fire, 
 Behold a train more fitting to inspire 
 The song of love, than Andalusia's maids, 
 Nurst in the glowing lap of soft desire : 
 Ah ! that to these were given such peaceful shades 
 As Greece can still bestow, though Glory fly her glades. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 Fair is proud Seville ; let her country boast 
 Her strength, her wealth, her site of ancient days ; 14 
 But Cadiz, rising on the distant coast, 
 Calls forth a sweeter, though ignoble praise. 
 Ah, Vice ! how soft are thy voluptuous ways ! 
 While boyish blood is mantling who can 'scape 
 The fascination of thy magic gaze? 
 A Cherub-hydra round us dost thou gape, 
 And mould to every taste thy dear delusive shape. 
 
Canto I. PILGRIMAGE. 45 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 When Paphos fell by Time — accursed Time ! 
 
 The queen who conquers all must yield to thee — 
 
 The Pleasures fled, but sought as warm a clime ; 
 
 And Venus, constant to her native sea, 
 
 To nought else constant, hither deign'd to flee ; 
 
 And fix'd her shrine within these walls of white : 
 
 Though not to one dome circumscribeth she 
 
 Her worship, but, devoted to her rite, 
 
 A thousand altars rise, for ever blazing bright. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 From morn till night, from night till startled Morn 
 Peeps blushing on the Revels laughing crew, 
 The song is heard, the rosy garland worn, 
 Devices quaint, and frolicks ever new, 
 Tread on each others kibes. A long adieu 
 He bids to sober joy that here sojourns : 
 Nought interrupts the riot, though in lieu 
 Of true devotion monkish incense burns, 
 And Love and Prayer unite, or rule the hour by turns. 
 
46 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto I. 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 The Sabbath comes, a day of blessed rest ; 
 What hallows it upon this Christian shore ? 
 Lo ! it is sacred to a solemn feast : 
 Hark ! heard you not the forest-monarch's roar ? 
 Crashing the lance, he snuffs the spouting gore 
 Of man and steed, o'erthrown beneath his horn ; 
 The throng'd Arena shakes with shouts for more ; 
 Yells the mad crowd o'er entrails freshly torn, 
 Nor shrinks the female eye, nor ev'n affects to mourn. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 The seventh day this ; the jubilee of man. 
 London ! right well thou know'st the day of prayer : 
 Then thy spruce citizen, wash'd artizan, 
 And smug apprentice gulp their weekly air : 
 Thy coach of Hackney, whiskey, one-horse chair, 
 And humblest gig through sundry suburbs whirl, 
 To Hampstead, Brentford, Harrow make repair; 
 Till the tir'd jade the wheel forgets to hurl, 
 Provoking envious gibe from each pedestrian Churl. 
 
Canto I. PILGRIMAGE. 47 
 
 LXX. 
 
 Some o'er thy Thamis row the ribbon'd fair, 
 Others along the safer Turnpike fly ; 
 Some Richmond-hill ascend, some scud to Ware, 
 And many to the steep of Highgate hie. 
 Ask ye, Boeotian shades ! the reason why ? 15 
 Tis to the worship of the solemn Horn, 
 Grasp'd in the holy hand of Mystery, 
 In whose dread name both men and maids are sworn, 
 And consecrate the oath with draught, and dance till morn. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 All have their fooleries — not alike are thine, 
 Fair Cadiz, rising o'er the dark blue sea ! 
 Soon as the matin bell proclaimeth nine, 
 Thy saint adorers count the rosary : 
 Much is the Virgin teaz'd to shrive them free 
 (Well do I ween the only virgin there) 
 From crimes as numerous as her beadsmen be ; 
 Then to the crowded circus forth they fare, 
 Young, old, high, low, at once the same diversion share. 
 
48 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto I. 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 The lists are op'd, the spacious area clear'd, 
 Thousands on thousands pil'd are seated round ; 
 Long ere the first loud trumpet's note is heard, 
 Ne vacant space for lated wight is found : 
 Here dons, grandees, but chiefly dames abound, 
 Skill'd in the ogle of a roguish eye, 
 Yet ever well inclin'd to heal the wound ; 
 None through their cold disdain are doom'd to die, 
 As moon-struck bards complain, by Love's sad archery. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 Hush'd is the din of tongues — on gallant steeds, 
 With milk-white crest, gold spur, and light-pois'd lance, 
 Four cavaliers prepare for venturous deeds, 
 And lowly bending to the lists advance ; 
 Rich are their scarfs, their chargers featly prance : 
 If in the dangerous game they shine to-day, 
 The crowds loud shout and ladies lovely glance, 
 Best prize of better acts, they bear away, 
 And all that kings or chiefs e'er gain their toils repay. 
 
Canto I. PILGRIMAGE. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 In costly sheen and gaudy cloak array'd, 
 But all afoot, the light-limb'd Matadore 
 Stands in the centre, eager to invade 
 The lord of lowing herds ; but not before 
 The ground, with cautious tread, is travers'd o'er, 
 Lest aught unseen should lurk to thwart his speed : 
 His arms a dart, he fights aloof, nor more 
 Can man achieve without the friendly steed, 
 Alas ! too oft condemn'd for him to bear and bleed. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 Thrice sounds the clarion ; lo ! the signal falls, 
 The den expands, and Expectation mute 
 Gapes round the silent Circle's peopled walls. 
 Bounds with one lashing spring the mighty brute, 
 And, wildly staring, spurns, with sounding foot, 
 The sand, nor blindly rushes on his foe : 
 Here, there, he points his threatening front, to suit 
 His first attack, wide waving to and fro 
 His angry tail ; red rolls his eye's dilated glow. 
 
 E 
 
50 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto 7. 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 Sudden he stops ; his eye is fix'd : away, 
 Away, thou heedless boy ! prepare the spear : 
 Now is thy time, to perish, or display 
 The skill that yet may check his mad career. 
 With well-tim'd croupe the nimble coursers veer ; 
 On foams the bull, but not unscath'd he goes ; 
 Streams from his flank the crimson torrent clear: 
 He flies, he wheels, distracted with his throes ; 
 Dart follows dart ; lance,lance; loud bellowings speak his woes. 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 Again he comes ; nor dart nor lance avail, 
 Nor the wild plunging of the tortur'd horse ; 
 Though man and man's avenging arms assail, 
 Vain are his weapons, vainer is his force. 
 One gallant steed is stretch'd a mangled corse ; 
 Another, hideous sight ! unseam'd appears, 
 His gory chest unveils life's panting source, 
 Tho' death-struck still his feeble frame he rears, 
 Staggering, but stemming all, his lord unharm'd he bears. 
 
Canto 1. PILGRIMAGE. , M 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 Foil'd, bleeding, breathless, furious to the last, 
 Full in the centre stands the bull at bay, 
 Mid wounds, and clinging darts, and lances brast, 
 And foes disabled in the brutal fray : 
 And now the Matadores around him play, 
 Shake the red cloak, and poise the ready brand: 
 Once more through all he bursts his thundering way — 
 Vain rage ! the mantle quits the conynge hand, 
 Wraps his fierce e} 7 e — 'tis past — he sinks upon the sand ! 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 Where his vast neck just mingles with the spine, 
 Sheath'd in his form the deadly weapon lies. 
 He stops — he starts — disdaining to decline : 
 Slowly he falls, amidst triumphant cries, 
 Without a groan, without a struggle dies. 
 The decorated car appears — on high 
 The corse is pil'd — sweet sight for vulgar eyes — 
 Four steeds that spurn the rein, as swift as shy, 
 Hurl the dark bulk along, scarce seen in dashing by. 
 
 e 2 
 
52 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto I. 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 Such the ungentle sport that oft invites 
 The Spanish maid, and cheers the Spanish swain. 
 Nurtur'd in blood betimes, his heart delights 
 In vengeance, gloating on another's pain. 
 What private feuds the troubled village stain ! 
 Though now one phalanx'd host should meet the foe, 
 Enough, alas ! in humble homes remain, 
 To meditate 'gainst friends the secret blow, 
 For some slight cause of wrath, whence life's warm stream 
 must flow. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 But Jealousy has fled : his bars, his bolts, 
 His wither'd centinel, Duenna sage ! 
 And all whereat the generous soul revolts, 
 Which the stern dotard deem'd he could encage, 
 Have pass'd to darkness with the vanish'd age. 
 Who late so free as Spanish girls were seen, 
 (Ere War uprose in his volcanic rage), 
 With braided tresses bounding o'er the green, 
 While on the gay dance shone Night's lover-loving Queen? 
 
Canto I. PILGRIMAGE. 53 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 Oh ! many a time, and oft, had Harold lov'd, 
 Or dream'd he lov'd, since Rapture is a dream ; 
 But now his wayward bosom was unmov'd, 
 For not yet had he drunk of Lethe's stream ; 
 And lately had he learn'd with truth to deem 
 Love has no gift so grateful as his wings : 
 How fair, how young, how soft soe'ei he seem, 
 Full from the fount of Joy's delicious springs 
 Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings. 1 " 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 Yet to the beauteous form he was not blind, 
 Though now it mov'd him as it moves the wise ; 
 Not that Philosophy on such a mind 
 E'er deign'd to bend her chastely-awful eyes : 
 But Passion raves herself to rest, or flies ; 
 And Vice, that digs her own voluptuous tomb, 
 Had buried long his hopes, no more to rise : 
 Pleasure's pall'd victim ! life-abhorring gloom 
 Wrote on his faded brow curst Cain's unresting doom. 
 
54 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto I. 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 Still he beheld, nor mingled with the throng; 
 But view'd them not with misanthropic hate : 
 Fain would he now have join'd the dance/ the song; 
 But who may smile that sinks beneath his fate? 
 Nought that he saw his sadness could abate : 
 Yet once he struggled 'gainst the demon's sway, 
 And as in Beauty's bower he pensive sate, 
 Pour'd forth this unpremeditated lay, 
 To charms as fair as those that sooth'd his happier day. 
 
 TO INEZ. 
 
 i I, 
 
 Nay, smile not at my sullen brow, 
 
 Alas ! I cannot smile again ; 
 Yet heaven avert that ever thou 
 
 Shouldst weep, and haply weep in vain. 
 
Cantn I. PILGRIMAGE. 55 
 
 2. 
 And dost thou ask, what secret woe 
 
 I bear, corroding joy and youth? 
 And wilt thou vainly seek to know 
 
 A pang, ev'n thou must fail to soothe ? 
 
 It is not love, it is not hate, 
 
 Nor low Ambition's honours lost, 
 
 That bids me loathe n^ present state, 
 And fly from all I priz'd the most : 
 
 4. 
 It is that weariness which springs 
 
 From all I meet, or hear, or see : 
 To me no pleasure Beauty brings ; 
 
 Thine eyes have scarce a charm for me. 
 
56 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto I. 
 
 5. 
 
 It is that settled, ceaseless gloom 
 The fabled Hebrew wanderer bore ; 
 
 That will not look beyond the tomb, 
 But cannot hope for rest before. 
 
 What Exile from himself can flee ? 
 
 To Zones, though more and more remote, 
 Still, still pursues, where-e'er I be, 
 
 The blight of life — the demon, Thought. 
 
 7. 
 Yet others rapt in pleasure seem, 
 
 And taste of all that I forsake ; 
 Oh ! may they still of transport dream, 
 
 And ne'er, at least like me, awake ! 
 
Cmto I. PILGRIMAGE. 57 
 
 8. 
 Through many a clime 'tis mine to go, 
 
 With many a retrospection curst ; 
 And all my solace is to know, 
 
 Whate'er betides, I've known the worst. 
 
 9. 
 What is that worst ? Nay do not ask — 
 
 In pity from the search forbear : 
 Smile on — nor venture to unmask 
 
 Man's heart, and view the Hell that's there. 
 
58 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto I. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 Adieu, fair Cadiz ! yea, a long adieu ! 
 Who may forget how well thy walls have stood ? 
 When all were changing thou alone wert true, 
 First to be free and last to be subdued : 
 And if amidst a scene, a shock so rude, 
 Some native blood was seen thy streets to die ; 
 A traitor only fell beneath the feud : " 
 Here all were noble, save Nobility; 
 None hugg'd a Conqueror's chain, save fallen Chivalry! 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 Such be the sons of Spain, and strange her fate ! 
 They fight for freedom who were never free; 
 A Kingless people for a nerveless state, 
 Her vassals combat when their chieftains flee, 
 True to the veriest slaves of Treachery: 
 Fond of a land which gave them nought but life, 
 Pride points the path that leads to Liberty ; 
 Back to the struggle, baffled in the strife, 
 War, war is still the cry, " War even to the knife !" 18 
 
Canto I. PILGRIMAGE. 59 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 Ye, who would more of Spain and Spaniards know, 
 Go, read whate'er is writ of bloodiest strife : 
 Whate'er keen Vengeance urg'd on foreign foe 
 Can act, is acting there against man's life : 
 From flashing scimitar, to secret knife, 
 War mouldeth there each weapon to his need — 
 So may he guard the sister and the wife, 
 So may he make each curst oppressor bleed, 
 So may such foes deserve the most remorseless deed! 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 Flows there a tear of pity for the dead ? 
 Look o'er the ravage of the reeking plain ; 
 Look on the hands with female slaughter red; 
 Then to the dogs resign the unburied slain, 
 Then to the vulture let each corse remain ; 
 Albeit unworthy of the prey-bird's maw, 
 Let their bleach'd bones, and blood's unbleaching stain, 
 Long mark the battle-field with hideous awe : 
 Thus only may our sons conceive the scenes we saw ! 
 
6() 
 
 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto I. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 Nor yet, alas ! the dreadful work is done, 
 Fresh legions pour adown the Pyrenees ; 
 It deepens still, the work is scarce begun, 
 Nor mortal eye the distant end foresees. 
 Fall'n nations gaze on Spain ; if freed, she frees 
 More than her fell Pizarros once enchain'd : 
 Strange retribution ! now Columbia's ease 
 Repairs the wrongs that Quito's sons sustain'd, 
 While o'er the parent clime prowls Murder unrestrain'd. 
 
 XC. 
 
 Not all the blood at Talavera shed, 
 Not all the marvels of Barossa's fight, 
 Not Albuera lavish of the dead, 
 Have won for Spain her well asserted right. 
 When shall her Olive-Branch be free from blight ? 
 When shall she breathe her from the blushing toil ? 
 How many a doubtful day shall sink in night, 
 Ere the Frank robber turn him from his spoil, 
 And Freedom's stranger-tree grow native of the soil ! 
 
Canto I. PILGRIMAGE. 6l 
 
 XCI. 
 
 And thou, my friend ! 19 — since unavailing woe 
 Bursts from my heart, and mingles with the strain — 
 Had the sword laid thee with the mighty low, 
 Pride might forbid ev'n Friendship to complain : 
 But thus unlaurel'd to descend in vain, 
 By all forgotten, save the lonely breast, 
 And mix unbleeding with the boasted slain, 
 While Glory crowns so many a meaner crest ! 
 What hadst thou done to sink so peacefully to rest ? 
 
 XCII. 
 
 Oh, known the earliest, and esteem'd the most ! 
 Dear to a heart where nought was left so dear ! 
 Though to my hopeless days for ever lost, 
 In dreams deny me not to see thee here ! 
 And Morn in secret shall renew the tear 
 Of Consciousness awaking to her woes, 
 And Fancy hover o'er thy bloodless bier, 
 Till my frail frame return to whence it rose, 
 And mourn'd and mourner lie united in repose. 
 
62 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. Canto I. 
 
 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 doom'd to go : 
 Lands that contain the monuments of Eld, 
 Ere Greece and Grecian arts by barbarous hands were quell'd. 
 
 END OF CANTO I. 
 
CANTO II. 
 
Ciriltie Haroto's $tlgrtmage* 
 
 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, ' 
 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 polish'd breasts bestow. 2 
 
66 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto IL 
 
 IL 
 
 Ancient of days! august Athena ! where, 
 Where are thy men of might? thy grand in soul? 
 Gone— glimmerin g through the dream of things that were : 
 First in the race that led to Glory's goal, 
 They won, and pass'd 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 ! 
 Come — but molest not yon defenceless urn : 
 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 
 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. 
 
Canto II. PILGRIMAGE. 67 
 
 IV. 
 
 Bound to the earth, he lifts his eye to heaven — 
 Is't not enough, unhappy thing ! to know 
 Thou art ? Is this a boon so kindly given, 
 That being, thou wouldst be again, and go, 
 Thou know'st not, reck'st not to what region, so 
 On earth no more, but mingled with the skies? 
 Still wilt thou dream on future joy and woe ? 
 Regard and weigh yon dust before it flies : 
 That little urn saith more than thousand homilies. 
 
 V. 
 
 Or burst the vanish'd Hero's lofty mound ; 
 Far on the solitary shore he sleeps : 3 
 He fell, and falling nations mourn'd around ; 
 But now not one of saddening thousands weeps, 
 Nor warlike-worshipper his vigil keeps 
 AVhere demi-gods appear'd, as records tell. 
 Remove yon skull from out the scatter'd heaps : 
 Is that a temple where a God may dwell ? 
 Why ev'n the worm at last disdains her shatter'd cell ! 
 
 f 2 
 
fj& 
 
 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canty II. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Look on its broken arch, its ruin'd wall, 
 Its chambers desolate, and portals foul : 
 Yes, this was once Ambition's airy hall, 
 The dome of Thought, the palace of the Soul : 
 Behold through each lack-lustre, eyeless hole, 
 The gay recess of Wisdom and of Wit 
 And Passion's host, that never brook'd control : 
 Can all, saint, sage, or sophist ever writ, 
 People this lonely tower, this tenement refit ? 
 
 VII. 
 
 Well didst thou speak, Athena's wisest son ! 
 " All that we know is, nothing can be known." 
 Why should we shrink from what we cannot shun ? 
 Each has his pang, but feeble sufferers groan 
 With brain-born dreams of evil all their own. 
 Pursue what Chance or Fate proclaiineth best ; 
 Peace waits us on the shores of Acheron : 
 There no forc'd banquet claims the sated guest, 
 But Silence spreads the couch of ever welcome rest. 
 
Canto II. 
 
 PILGRIMAGE. 
 
 m 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Yet if, as holiest men have deeni'd, there be 
 A land of souls beyond that sable shore, 
 To shame the doctrine of the Sadducee 
 And sophists, madly vain of dubious lore ; 
 How sweet it were in concert to adore 
 With those who made our mortal labours light I 
 To hear each voice we fear'd to hear no more ! 
 Behold each mighty shade reveal'd to sight, 
 The Bactrian, Samian sage, and all who taught the right! 
 
 IX. 
 
 There, thou ! — whose love and life together fled, 
 Have left me here to love and live in vain — 
 Twin'd with my heart, and can I deem thee dead, 
 When busy Memory flashes on my brain ? 
 Well — I will dream that we may meet again. 
 And woo the vision to my vacant breast : 
 If aught of young Remembrance then remain, 
 Be as it may Futurity's behest, 
 For me 'twere bliss enough to know thy spirit blest ! 
 
70 CHILDE HAROLD 'S. Canto 1L 
 
 X. 
 
 Here let me sit upon this massy stone, 
 The marble column's yet unshaken base ; 
 Here, son of Saturn ! was thy fav'rite throne : 4 
 Mightiest of many such ! Hence let me trace 
 The latent grandeur of thy dwelling place. 
 It may not be : nor ev'n can Fancy's eye 
 Restore what Time hath labour'd to deface. 
 Yet these proud pillars claim no passing sigh, 
 Unmov'd the Moslem sits, the light Greek carols by. 
 
 XI. 
 
 But who, of all the plunderers of yon fane 
 On high, where Pallas linger'd, loth to flee 
 The latest relic of her ancient reign ; 
 The last, the worst, dull spoiler, who was he ? 
 Blush, Caledonia! such thy son could be ! 
 England ! I joy no child he was of thine : 
 Thy free-born men should spare what once was free ; 
 Yet they could violate each saddening shrine, 
 And bear these altars o'er the long-reluctant brine.* 5 « 
 
Canto II. PILGRIMAGE. 7 1 
 
 XII. 
 
 But most the modern Pict's ignoble boast, 
 To rive what Goth, and Turk, and Time hath spar'd : 6 
 Cold as the crags upon his native coast, 
 His mind as barren and his heart as hard, 
 Is he whose head conceiv'd, whose hand prepar'd, 
 Aught to displace Athena's poor remains : 
 Her sons too weak the sacred shrine to guard, 
 Yet felt some portion of their mother's pains, n 
 And never knew, till then, the weight of Despot's chains. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 What ! shall it e'er be said by British tongue, 
 Albion was happy in Athena's tears ? 
 Though in thy name the slaves her bosom wrung, 
 Tell not the deed to blushing Europe's ears ; 
 The ocean queen, the free Britannia bears 
 The last poor plunder from a bleeding land : 
 Yes, she, whose gen'rous aid her name endears, 
 Tore down those remnants with a Harpy's hand, 
 Which envious Eld forbore, and tyrants left to stand. 
 
72 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto II. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Where was thine iEgis, Pallas ! that appall'd 
 Stern Alaric and Havoc on their way ? 3 
 Where Peleus' son? whom Hell in vain enthrall'd, 
 His shade from Hades upon that dread day, 
 Bursting to light in terrible array ! 
 What ? could not Pluto spare the chief once more, 
 To scare a second robber from his prey ? 
 Idly he wander'd on the Stygian shore, 
 Nor now preserv'd the walls he lov'd to shield before. 
 
 XV. 
 Cold is the heart, fair Greece ! that looks on thee, 
 Nor feels as lovers o'er the dust they lov'd ; 
 Dull is the eye that will not weep to see 
 Thy walls defac'd, thy mouldering shrines remov'd 
 By British hands, which it had best behov'd 
 To guard those relics ne'er to be restor'd. 
 Curst be the hour when from their isle they rov'd, 
 And once again thy hapless bosom gor'd, 
 Andsnatch'd thy shrinking Gods to northern climes abhorr'd ! 
 
Canto II. PILGRIMAGE. 73 
 
 xvr. 
 
 But where is Harold? shall I then forget 
 To urge the gloomy wanderer o'er the wave ? 
 Little reck'd he of all that men regret; 
 No lov'd-one now in feign'd lament could rave ; 
 No friend the parting hand extended gave, 
 - Ere the cold stranger pass'd to other climes : 
 Hard is his heart whom charms may not enslave ; 
 But Harold felt not as in other times, 
 And left without a sigh the land of war and crimes. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 He that has sail'd upon the dark blue sea, 
 Has view'd at times, I ween, a full fair sight; 
 When the fresh breeze is fair as breeze may be, 
 The white sail set, the gallant frigate tight; 
 Masts, spires, and strand retiring to the right, 
 The glorious main expanding o'er the bow, 
 The convoy spread like wild swans in their flight, 
 The dullest sailer wearing bravely now, 
 So gaily curl the waves before each dashing prow. 
 
74 CHILDE HAROLD'S Ccmtall. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 And oh, the little warlike world within ' 
 The well-reev'd guns, the netted canopy, 5 
 The hoarse command, the busy humming din, 
 When, at a word, the tops are mann'd on high : 
 Hark to the Boatswain's call, the cheering cry ! 
 While through the seaman's hand the tackle glides ; 
 Or school-boy Midshipman that, standing by, 
 Strains his shrill pipe as good or ill betides, 
 And well the docile crew that skilful urchin guides. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 White is the glassy deck, without a stain, 
 Where on the watch the staid Lieutenant walks : 
 Look on that part which sacred doth remain 
 For the lone chieftain, who majestic stalks, 
 Silent and fear'd by all — not oft he talks 
 With aught beneath him, if he would preserve 
 That strict restraint, which broken, ever balks 
 Conquest and Fame : but Britons rarely swerve 
 From Law, however stern, which tends their strength to nerve. 
 
Canto II. PILGRIMAGE. 75 
 
 XX. 
 
 Blow ! swiftly blow, thou keel-compelling gale ! 
 Till the broad sun withdraws his lessening ray ; 
 Then must the pennant-bearer slacken sail, 
 That lagging barks may make their lazy way. 
 Ah ! grievance sore, and listless dull delay, 
 To waste on sluggish hulks the sweetest breeze! 
 What leagues are lost before the dawn of day, 
 Thus loitering pensive on the willing seas, 
 The flapping sail haul'd down to halt for logs like these ! 
 
 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 
 W akes 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. 
 
76 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto 1L 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Through Calpe's straits survey the steepy shore; 
 Europe and Afric on each other gaze ! 
 Lands of the dark-ey'd Maid and dusky Moor 
 Alike beheld beneath pale Hecate's blaze : 
 How softly on the Spanish shore she plays, 
 Disclosing rock, and slope, and forest brown, 
 Distinct, though darkening with her waning phase; 
 But Mauritania's giant-shadows frown, 
 From mountain-cliff to coast descending sombre down. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 'Tis night, when Meditation bids us feel 
 We once have lov'd, though love is at an end : 
 The heart, lone mourner of its baffled zeal, 
 Though friendless now, will dream it had a friend. 
 Who with the weight of years would wish to bend, 
 When Youth itself survives young Love and Joy ? 
 Alas ! when mingling souls forget to blend, 
 Death hath but little left him to destroy ! 
 Ah! happy years! once more who would not be a boy? 
 
Canto 1L PILGRIMAGE. 77 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Thus bending o'er the vessel's laving side, 
 To gaze on Dian's wave-reflected sphere ; 
 The soul forgets her schemes of Hope and Pride, 
 And flies unconscious o'er each backward year. 
 None are so desolate but something dear, 
 Dearer than self, possesses or possess'd 
 A thought, and claims the homage of a tear ; 
 A flashing pang ! of which the weary breast 
 Would still, albeit in vain, the heavy heart divest. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, 
 To slowly trace the forest's shady scene, 
 Where things that own not man's dominion dwell, 
 And mortal foot hath ne'er, or rarely been ; 
 To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, 
 With the wild flock that never needs a fold ; 
 Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean; 
 This is not solitude; 'tis but to hold 
 Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores unroll 'd. 
 
78 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto II. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 But midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men, 
 To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess, 
 And roam along, the world's tir'd denizen, 
 With none who hless us, none whom we can bless ; 
 Minions of splendour shrinking from distress ! 
 None that, with kindred consciousness endued, 
 If we were not, would seem to smile the less 
 Of all that flatter'd, follow'd, sought and sued ; 
 This is to be alone ; this, this is solitude ! 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 More blest the life of godly Eremite, 
 Such as on lonely Athos may be seen, 
 Watching at Eve upon the giant height, 
 That looks o'er waves so blue, skies so serene, 
 That he who there at such an hour hath been 
 Will wistful linger on that hallow'd 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. 
 
Canto II. PILGRIMAGE. 79 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Pass we the long, unvarying course, the track 
 Oft trod, that never leaves a trace behind 3 
 Pass we the calm, the gale, the change, the tack, 
 And each well known caprice of wave and wind ; 
 Pass w r e the joys and sorrows sailors find, 
 Coop'd in their winged sea-girt citadel ; 
 The foul, the fair, the contrary, the kind, 
 As breezes rise and fall and billows swell, 
 Till on some jocund morn — lo, land! and all is w r elL 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 But not in silence pass Calypso's isles, 1U 
 The sister tenants of the middle deep ; 
 There for the weary still a haven smiles, 
 Though the fair goddess long hath ceas'd to weep, 
 And o'er her cliffs a fruitless watch to keep 
 For him who dar'd prefer a mortal bride : 
 Here, too, his boy essay'd the dreadful leap 
 Stern Mentor urg'd from high to yonder tide ; 
 While thus of both bereft, the nymph-queen doubly sigh'd. 
 
80 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto II. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Her reign is past, her gentle glories gone : 
 But trust not this ; too easy youth, beware ! 
 A mortal sovereign holds her dangerous throne, 
 And thou may'st find a new Calypso there. 
 Sweet Florence ! could another ever share 
 This wayward, loveless heart, it would be thine : 
 But check'd by every tie, I may not dare 
 To cast a worthless offering at thy shrine, 
 Nor ask so dear a breast to feel one pang for mine. 
 
 I 
 XXXT. 
 
 Thus Harold deem'd, as on that lady's eye 
 He look'd, and met its beam without a thought, 
 Save Admiration glancing harmless by: 
 Love kept aloof, albeit not far remote, 
 Who knew his votary often lost and caught, 
 But knew him as his worshipper no more, 
 And ne'er again the boy his bosom sought : 
 Since now he vainly urg'd him to adore, 
 Well deem'd the little God his ancient sway was o'er. 
 
Canto II. PILGRIMAGE. 8 1 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Fair Florence found, in sooth with some amaze, 
 One who, 'twas said, still sigh'd to all he saw, 
 Withstand, unmov'd, the lustre of her gaze, 
 Which others hail'd with real, or mimic awe, 
 Their hope, their doom, their punishment, their law; 
 All that gay Beauty from her bondsmen claims : 
 And much she marvell'd that a youth so raw 
 Nor felt, nor feign'd at least, the oft-told flames, 
 Which, though sometimes they frown, yet rarely anger dames. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Little knew she that seeming marble-heart, 
 Now mask'd in silence or withheld by pride, 
 Was not unskilful in the spoiler's art, 
 And spread its snares licentious far and wide ; 
 Nor from the base pursuit had turn'd aside, 
 As long as aught was worthy to pursue : 
 But Harold on such arts no more relied ; 
 And had he doated on those eyes so blue, 
 Yet never would he join the lover's whining crew. 
 
 G 
 
82 CIIILDE HAROLD'S Canto II. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Not much he kens, I ween, of woman's breast, 
 Who thinks that wanton thing is won by sighs ; 
 What careth she for hearts when once possess'd ? 
 Do proper homage to thine idol's eyes ; 
 But not too humbly, or she will despise 
 Thee and thy suit, though told in moving tropes : 
 Disguise ev'n tenderness, if thou art wise ; 
 Brisk Confidence still best with woman copes ; 
 Pique her and soothe in turn, soon Passion crowns thy hopes. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 'Tis an old lesson ; Time approves it true, 
 And those who know it best, deplore it most ; 
 When all is won that all desire to woo, 
 The paltry prize is hardly worth the cost : 
 Youth wasted, minds degraded, honour lost, 
 These are thy fruits, successful Passion ! these ! 
 If, kindly cruel, early Hope is crost, 
 Still to the last it rankles, a disease, 
 Not to be cur'd when Love itself forgets to please. 
 
Canto IT. PILGRIMAGE, 83 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Away ! nor let me loiter in my song, 
 For we have many a mountain-path to tread, 
 And many a varied shore to sail along, 
 Bj r pensive Sadness, not by Fiction, led — 
 Climes, fair withal as ever mortal head 
 Imagin'd in its little schemes of thought ; 
 Or e'er in new Utopias were ared, 
 To teach man what he might be, or he ought ; 
 If that corrupted thing could ever such be taught. 
 
 XXXVLL 
 
 Dear Nature is the kindest mother still, 
 Though alway changing, in her aspect mild ; 
 From her bare bosom let me take my fill, 
 Her never-wean'd, though not her favour'd child. 
 Oh ! she is fairest in her features wild, 
 Where nothing polish'd dares pollute her path : 
 To me by day or night she ever smil'd, 
 Though I have mark'd her when none other hath, 
 And sought her more and more, and lov'd her best in wrath. 
 * g 2 
 
84 CHILDE HAROLD'S CanU.ll. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Land of Albania! 11 where Iskander rose, 
 Theme of the young, and beacon of the wise, 
 And he his name-sake, whose oft-baffled foes 
 Shrunk from his deeds of chivalrous emprize : 
 Land of Albania ! let me bend mine eyes 
 On thee, thou 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 ken, 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Childe Harold sail'd, and pass'd the barren spot, 12 
 Where sad Penelope o'erlook'd the wave ; 
 And onward view'd the mount, not yet forgot, 
 The lover's refuge, and the Lesbian's grave. 
 Dark Sappho ! could not verse immortal save 
 That breast imbued with such immortal fire? 
 Could she not live who life eternal gave? 
 If life eternal may await the lyre, 
 That only Heaven to which Earth's children may aspire. 
 
Canto II. PILGRIMAGE. 85 
 
 XL. 
 
 'Tvvas 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 unmov'd, for he would not delight 
 (Born beneath some remote inglorious star) 
 In themes of bloody fray, or gallant fight, 
 But loath'd the bravo's trade, and laugh'd at martial wight 
 
 XLI. 
 
 But, when he saw the evening star above 
 Leucadia's far-projecting rock of woe, 
 And hail'd the last resort of fruitless love, 14 
 He felt, or deem'd he felt, no common glow : 
 And as the stately vessel glided slow 
 Beneath the shadow of that ancient mount, 
 He watch'd the billows' melancholy flow, 
 And, sunk albeit in thought as he was wont, 
 More placid seem'd his eye, and smooth his pallid front. 
 
86 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto II. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Morn dawns ; and with it stern Albania's hills, 
 Dark Sulis' rocks, and Pindus' inland peak, 
 Rob'd half in mist, bedew'd with snowy rills, 
 Array'd in many a dun and purple streak, 
 Arise ; and, as the clouds along them break, 
 Disclose the dwelling of the mountaineer : 
 Here roams the wolf, the eagle whets his beak, 
 Birds, beasts of prey, and wilder men appear, 
 And gathering storms around convulse the closing year. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Now Harold felt himself at length alone, 
 And bade to Christian tongues a long adieu; 
 Now he adventur'd on a shore unknown, 
 Which all admire, but many dread to view : 
 His breast was arm'd 'gainst fate, his wants were few; 
 Peril he sought not, but ne'er shrank to meet, 
 The scene was savage, but the scene was new; 
 This made the ceaseless toil of travel sweet, 
 Beat back keen winter's blast, and welcom'd summer's heat. 
 
Canto II. PILGRIM-AGE. 37 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Here the red cross, for still the cross is here, 
 Though sadly scoff 'd at by the circumcis'd, 
 Forgets that pride to pamper'd Priesthood dear ; 
 Churchman and votary alike despis'd. 
 Foul Superstition ! howsoe'er disguis'd, 
 Idol, saint, virgin, prophet, crescent, cross, 
 For whatsoever symbol thou art priz'd, 
 Thou sacerdotal gain, but general loss ! 
 Who from true worship's gold can separate thy dross ? 
 
 XLV. 
 
 Ambracia's gulph behold, where once was lost 
 A world for woman, lovely, harmless thing! 
 In yonder rippling bay, their naval host 
 Did many a Roman chief and Asian king 15 
 To doubtful conflict, certain slaughter bring : 
 Look where the second Caesar's trophies rose ! 16 
 JNow, like the hands that rear'd them, withering : 
 Imperial Anarchs, doubling human woes ! 
 God ! was thy globe ordain'd for such to win and lose? 
 
88 ClIILDi: HAROLD'S Canto II. 
 
 XLVL 
 
 From the dark barriers of that rugged clime, 
 Ev'n to the centre of Illyria's vales, 
 Childe Harold pass'd o'er many a mount sublime, 
 Through lands scarce notic'd in historic tales ; 
 Yet in fam'd Attica such lovely dales 
 Are rarely seen ; nor can fair Tempe boast 
 A charm they know not ; lov'd Parnassus fails, 
 Though classic ground and consecrated most, 
 To match some spots that lurk within this lowering coast. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 He pass'd bleak Pindus, Acherusia's lake, n 
 And left the primal city of the land, 
 And onwards did his further journey take 
 To greet Albania's chief, 18 whose dread command 
 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 
 
Canto II. PILGRIMAGE. 89 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Monastic Zitza ! 20 from thy shady brow, 
 Thou small, but favour'd 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 harmonize the whole : 
 Beneath, the distant torrent's rushing sound 
 Tells where the volum'd cataract doth roll 
 Between those hanging rocks, that shock yetplease 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 deem'd of dignity, 
 The convent'* white walls glisten fair on high : 
 Here dwells the caloyer, 21 nor rude is he, 
 Nor niggard of his cheer ; the passer by 
 Is welcome still ; nor heedless will he flee 
 From hence, if he delight kind Nature's sheen to see. 
 
90 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto II. 
 
 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, 
 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, untfr'd, the morn, the noon, the eve away. 
 
 LI. 
 
 Dusky and huge, enlarging on the sight, 
 Nature's volcanic amphitheatre, n 
 Chimaera'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 ! & 
 Once consecrated to the sepulchre. 
 Pluto ! if this be hell I look upon, 
 Close sham'd Elysium's gates, my shade shall seek for none ! 
 
Canto II. PILGRIMAGE. 91 
 
 LII. 
 
 Ne city's towers pollute the lovely view ; 
 Unseen is Yanina, though not remote, 
 Veil'd by the screen of hills : here men are few, 
 Scanty the hamlet, rare the lonely cot ; 
 But, peering down each precipice, the goat 
 Browseth ; and, pensive o'er his scattered flock, 
 The little shepherd in his white capote 24 
 Doth lean his boyish form along the rock, 
 Or in his cave awaits the tempest's short-liv'd shock. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 Oh ! where, Dodona ! is thine aged grove; 
 Prophetic fount, and oracle divine ? 
 What valley echo'd 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 ? 
 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 ! 
 
92 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto II. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 Epirus' bounds recede, and mountains fail; 
 Tir'd 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 sleep in midnight's solemn trance. 
 
 LV. 
 
 The Sun had sunk behind vast Tomerit., 25 
 And Laos wide and fierce came roaring by ; ct> 
 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. 
 
Qmta II. PILGRIMAGE. 9$ 
 
 LVI. 
 
 He pass'd the sacred Hararn'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 - 7 
 Within, a palace, and without, a fort : 
 Here men of every clime appear to make resort. 
 
 LVI I. 
 Richly caparison'd, a ready row 
 Of armed horse, and many a warlike store 
 Circled the wide extending court below : 
 Above, strange groups adom'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 announc'd the close of day. 
 
94 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto II. 
 
 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, 
 The Muezzin's call doth shake the minaret, 
 " There is no god but God ! — to prayer — lo ! God is great." 
 
Canto II. 
 
 PILGRIMAGE. 95 
 
 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 assum'd the rule again : 
 Now all was bustle, and the menial train 
 Prepar'd 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, 
 Tam'd 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 sharps. 
 
96 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto II. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 In marble-pav'd pavilion, where a spring 
 Of living water from the centre rose, 
 Whose bubbling did a genial freshness fling, 
 And soft voluptuous couches breath'd repose, 
 A li reclin'd, 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. 
 \^> 
 
 LXIII. 
 It is not that yon hoary lengthening beard 
 111 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 tyger's tooth ; 
 Blood follows blood, and, through their mortal span, 
 
 In bloodier acts conclude those who with blood began. 
 
Canto II. PILGRIMAGE. 97 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 'Mid many things most new to ear and eye 
 The pilgrim rested here his weary feet, 
 And gaz'd 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, 
 Unshaken rushing on where'er their chief may lead. 
 
 H 
 
98 CHILDE HAROLD'S Qmto U. 
 
 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 cheered him less, 
 And fellow-countrymen have stood aloof — m 
 In aught that tries the heart how few withstand the proof! 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 It chanc'd 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 ventur'd forth, though doubting sore 
 That those who loathe alike the Frank and Turk 
 Might once again renew their ancient butcher- work. 
 
Canto II. PILGRIMAGE. 99 
 
 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 pil'd the hearth, and wrung their garments damp, 
 And fill'd the howl, and trimm'd the cheerful lamp, 
 And spread their fare ; though homely, all they had : 
 Such conduct bears Philanthropy's rare stamp — 
 To rest the weary and to soothe the sad, 
 Doth lesson happier men, and shames at least the bad* 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 It came to pass, that when he did address 
 Himself to quit at length this mountain-land, 
 Combin'd marauders half-way barr'd egress, 
 And wasted far and near with glaive and brand ; 
 And therefore did he take a trusty band 
 To traverse Acarnania's forest wide, 
 In war well season'd, and with labours tann'd, 
 Till he did greet white Achelous' tide, 
 And from his further bank iEtolia's wolds espied. 
 
 h 2 
 
100 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto I L 
 
 LXX. 
 
 Where lone Utraikey forms its circling cove, 
 And weary waves retire to gleam at rest, 
 How brown the foliage of the green hill's grove, 
 Nodding at midnight o'er the calm bay's breast, 
 As winds come lightly whispering from the west, 
 Kissing, not ruffling, the blue deep's serene : — 
 Here Harold was receiv'd a welcome guest; 
 Nor did he pass unmov'd the gentle scene, 
 For many a joy could he from Night's soft presence glean. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 On the smooth shore the night-fires brightly blaz'd, 
 The feast was done, the red wine circling fast, 38 
 And he that unawares had there ygaz'd 
 With gaping wonderment had star'd aghast; 
 For ere night's midmost, stillest hour was past 
 The native revels of the troop began ; 
 Each Palikar 29 his sabre from him cast, 
 And bounding hand in hand, man link'd to man, 
 Yelling their uncouth dirge, long daunc'd the kirtled clan. 
 
Omtall. PILGRIMAGE. 101 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 Childe Harold at a little distance stood 
 And view'd, but not displeas'd, the revelrie, 
 Nor hated harmless mirth, however rude : 
 In sooth, it was no vulgar sight to see 
 Their barbarous, yet their not indecent, glee, 
 And, as the flames along their faces gleam'd, 
 Their gestures nimble, dark eyes flashing free, 
 The loug wild locks that to their girdles stream'd, 
 While thus in concert they this lay half sang, half seream'd : M 
 
 1. 
 
 3 ,Tambourgi ! Tambourgi I* thy 'larum afar 
 Gives hope to the valiant, and promise of war ; 
 All the sons of the mountains arise at the note, 
 Chimariot, Illyrian, and dark Suliote ! 
 
 * Drummer. 
 
102 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto 11. 
 
 2. 
 Oh! who is more brave than a dark Suliote, 
 In his snowy camese and his shaggy capote ? 
 To the wolf and the vulture he leaves his wild flock, 
 And descends to the plain like the stream from the rock. 
 
 3. 
 Shall the sons of Chimari, who never forgive 
 The fault of a friend, bid an enemy live ? 
 Let those guns so unerring such vengeance forego ? 
 What mark is so fair as the breast of a foe ? 
 
 4. 
 Macedonia sends forth her invincible race; 
 For a time they abandon the cave and the chase : 
 But those scarfs of blood-red shall be redder, before 
 The sabre is sheath'd and the battle is o'er. 
 
Canto II. PILGRIMAGE 1Q3 
 
 5. 
 
 Then the pirates of Parga that dwell by the waves, 
 And teach the pale Franks what it is to be slaves, 
 Shall leave on the beach the long galley and oar, 
 And track to his covert the captive on shore. 
 
 6. 
 I ask not the pleasures that riches supply, 
 My sabre shall win what the feeble must buy ; 
 Shall win the young bride with her long flowing hair, 
 And many a maid from her mother shall tear. 
 
 7. 
 
 I love the fair face of the maid in her youth, 
 Her caresses shall lull me, her music shall sooth ; 
 Let her bring from the chamber her many-ton'd lyre, 
 And sing us a song on the fall of her sire. 
 
104 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto U. 
 
 8. 
 Remember the moment when Previsa fell, 32 
 The shrieks of the eonquer'd, the conquerors' yell ; 
 The roofs that we fir'd, and the plunder we shar'd, 
 The wealthy we slaughter'd, the lovely we spar'd. 
 
 9. 
 
 I talk not of mercy, I talk not of fear; 
 He neither must know who would serve the Vizier: 
 Since the days of our prophet the Crescent ne'er saw 
 A chief ever glorious like Ali Pashaw. 
 
 10. 
 Dark Muchtar his son to the Danube is sped, 
 Let the yellow-hair'd * Giaours + view his horse-tail ;{; with 
 
 dread ; 
 When his Delhis§ come dashing in blood o'er the banks, 
 How few shall escape from the Muscovite ranks ! 
 
 * Yellow is the epithet given to the Russians. f Infidel, 
 
 % Horse-tails are the insignia of a Pacha. 
 § Horsemen, answering to our forlorn hope. 
 
CmwAI. PILGRIMAGE. 105 
 
 11. 
 
 Selictar!* unsheath then our chief's scimitar:- 
 Tambourgi ! thy 'larum gives promise of war. 
 Ye mountains, that see us descend to the shore, 
 Shall view us as victors, or view us no more ! 
 
 lxxiu. 
 
 Fair Greece ! sad relic of departed worth ! 33 
 Immortal, though no more' though fallen, great! 
 Who now shall lead thy scatter'd children forth, 
 And long accustom'd bondage uncreate ? 
 Not such thy sons who whilome did await, 
 The hopeless warriors of a willing doom, 
 In bleak Thermopylae's sepulchral strait — 
 Oh ! who that gallant spirit shall resume, 
 Leap from Eurotas' banks, and call thee from the tomb ? 
 
 * Sword-bearer. 
 
1(>6 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto II. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 Spirit of freedom! when on Phyle's brow 34 
 Thou sat'st with Thrasybulus and his train, 
 Couldst thou forebode the dismal hour which now 
 Dims the green beauties of thine Attic plain ? 
 Not thirty tyrants now enforce the chain, 
 But every carle can lord it o'er thy land ; 
 Nor rise thy sons, but idly rail in vain, 
 Trembling beneath the scourge of Turkish hand, 
 From birth till death enslav'd; in word, in deed unmann'd. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 In all save form alone, how chang'd ! and who 
 That marks the fire still sparkling in each eye, 
 Who but would deem their bosoms burn'd anew 
 With thy unquenched beam, lost Liberty ! 
 And many dream withal the hour is nigh 
 That gives them back their fathers' heritage : 
 For foreign arms and aid they fondly sigh, 
 Nor solely dare encounter hostile rage, 
 Or tear their name defil'd from Slavery's mournful page. 
 
Canto 11. 
 
 PILGRIMAGE. 107 
 
 LXXV1. 
 
 Hereditary bondsmen ! know ye not 
 Who would be free themselves must strike the blow ? 
 By their right arms the conquest must be wrought ? 
 Will Gaul or Muscovite redress ye i 1 no ! 
 True, they may lay your proud despoilers low, 
 But not for you will Freedom's altars flame. 
 Shades of the Helots ! triumph o'er your foe ! 
 Greece ! change thy lords, thy state is still the same ; 
 Thy glorious day is o'er, but not thine years of shame. 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 The city won for Allah from the Giaour, 
 The Giaour from Othman's race again may wrest; 
 And the Serai's impenetrable tower 
 Receive the fiery Frank, her former guest ; 35 
 On Wahab's rebel brood who dared divest 
 The 36 prophet's tomb of all its pious spoil, 
 May wind their path of blood along the West ; 
 But ne'er will freedom seek this fated soil, 
 But slave succeed to slave through years of endless toil. 
 
108 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto II. 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 Yet mark their mirth — ere lenten days begin, 
 That penance which their holy rites prepare 
 To shrive from man his weight of mortal sin, 
 By daily abstinence and nightly prayer ; 
 But ere his sackcloth garb Repentance wear, 
 Some days of joyaunce are decreed to all, 
 To take of pleasaunce each his secret share, 
 In motley robe to dance at masking ball, 
 And join the mimic train of merry Carnival. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 And whose more rife with merriment than thine, 
 Oh Stamboul ! once the empress of their reign ? 
 Though turbans now pollute Sophia's shrine, 
 And Greece her very altars eyes in vain : 
 (Alas ! her woes will still pervade my strain !) 
 Gay were her minstrels once, for free her throng, 
 All felt the common joy they now must feign, 
 Nor oft I've seen such sight, nor heard such song, 
 As woo'd the eye, and thrill'd the Bosphorus along, 
 
Canto II. 
 
 PILGRIMAGE. ™9 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 Loud was the lightsome tumult of the shore, 
 Oft Music chang'd, but never ceas'd her tone, 
 And timely echo'd back the measur'd oar, 
 And rippling waters made a pleasant moan : 
 The Queen of tides on high consenting shone, 
 And when a transient breeze swept o'er the wave, 
 'Twas, as if darting from her heavenly throne, 
 A brighter glance her form reflected gave, 
 Till sparkling billows seem'd to light the banks they lave, 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 Glanc'd many a light caique along the foam, 
 Danc'd on the shore the daughters of the land, 
 Ne thought had man or maid of rest or home, 
 While many a languid eye and thrilling hand 
 Exchang'd the look few bosoms may withstand, 
 Or gently prest, return'd the pressure still : 
 Oh Love ! young Love ! bound in thy rosy band, 
 Let sage or cynic prattle as he will, 
 These hours, and only these, redeem Life's years of ill ! 
 
UO CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto II. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 But, midst the throng in merry masquerade, 
 Lurk there no hearts that throb with secret pain, 
 Even through the closest searment half betrayed ? 
 To such the gentle murmurs of the main 
 Seem to re-echo all they mourn in vain ; 
 To such the gladness of the gamesome crowd 
 Is source of wayward thought and stern disdain : 
 How do they loathe the laughter idly loud, 
 And long to change the robe of revel for the shroud ! 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 This must he feel, the true-born son of Greece, 
 If Greece one true-born patriot still can boast : 
 Not such as prate of war, but skulk in peace, 
 The bondsman's peace, who sighs for all he lost, 
 Yet with smooth smile his tyrant can accost, 
 And wield the slavish sickle, not the sword : 
 Ah ! Greece ! they love thee least who owe thee most ; 
 Their birth, their blood, and that sublime record 
 Of hero sires, who shame thy now degenerate horde ! 
 
Canto II. PILGRIMAGE. 1 1 1 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 When riseth Lacedemon's hardihood, 
 When Thebes Epaminondas rears again, 
 When Athens' children are with hearts endued, 
 When Grecian mothers shall give birth to men, 
 Then may'st thou be restored ; but not till then. 
 A thousand years scarce serve to form a state ; 
 An hour may lay it in the dust : and when 
 Can man its shatter'd splendour renovate, 
 Recal its virtues back, and vanquish Time and Fate ? 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 And yet how lovely in thine age of woe, 
 Land of lost gods and godlike men ! art thou ! 
 Thy vales of ever-green, thy hills of snow 37 
 Proclaim thee Nature's varied favourite now : 
 Thy fanes, thy temples to thy surface bow, 
 Commingling slowly with heroic earth, 
 Broke by the share of every rustic plough : 
 So perish monuments of mortal birth, 
 So perish all in turn, save well-recorded Worth ; 
 
112 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto 11. 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 Save where some solitary column mourns 
 Above its prostrate brethren of the cave ; 
 Save where Tritonia's airy shrine adorns 
 Colonna's cliff, and gleams along the wave ; 
 Save o'er some warrior's half-forgotten grave, 
 Where the grey stones and unmolested grass 
 Ages, but not oblivion, feebly brave, 
 While strangers only not regardless pass, 
 Lingering like me, perchance, to gaze, and sigh " Alas !" 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 Yet are thy skies as blue, thy crags as wild ; 
 Sweet are thy groves, and verdant are thy fields, 
 Thine olive ripe as when Minerva smil'd, 
 And still his honied wealth Efymettus yields; 
 There the blithe bee his fragrant fortress builds, 
 The freeborn wanderer of thy mountain-air ; 
 Apollo still thy long, long summer gilds, 
 Still in his beam Mendeli's marbles glare; 
 Art, Glory, Freedom fail, but Nature still is fair. 
 
Canto U. PILGRIMAGE. US 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 Where'er we tread 'tis haunted, holy ground ; 
 No earth of thine is lost in vulgar mould, 
 But one va#fc realm of wonder spreads around, 
 And all the'Muse's tales seem truly told, 
 Till the sense aches with gazing to behold 
 The scenes our earliest dreams have dwelt upon : 
 Each hill and dale, each deepening glen and wold 
 Defies the power which crushed thy temples gone : 
 Age shakes Athena's tower, but spares gray Marathon. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 The sun, the soil, but not the slave, the same ; 
 Unchanged in all except its foreign lord — 
 Preserves alike its bounds and boundless fame 
 The Battle-field, where Persia's victim horde 
 First bowed beneath the brunt of Hellas' sword, 
 As on the morn to distant Glory dear, 
 When Marathon became a magic word ; 39 
 Which utter'd, to the hearer's eye appear 
 The camp, the host, the fight, the conqueror's career, 
 
 i 
 
114 CHILD E HAROLD'S Canto II. 
 
 XC. 
 
 The flying Mede, his shaftless broken bow ; 
 The fiery Greek, his red pursuing spear ; 
 Mountains above, Earth's, Ocean's plain below ; 
 Death in the front, Destruction in the rear ! 
 Such was the scene — what now remaineth here ? 
 What sacred trophy marks the hallow'd ground, 
 Recording Freedom's smile and Asia's tear? 
 The rifled urn, the violated mound, 
 The dust thy courser's hoof, rude stranger ! spurns around. 
 
 XCI. 
 
 Y et to the remnants of thy splendour past 
 Shall pilgrims, pensive, but unwearied, throng ; 
 Long shall the voyager, with th' Ionian blast, 
 Hail the bright clime of battle and of song; 
 Long shall thine annals and immortal tongue 
 Fill with thy fame the youth of many a shore ; 
 Boast of the aged ! lesson of the young ! 
 Which sages venerate and bards adore, 
 As Pallas and the Muse unveil their awful lore. 
 
Canto II. PILGRIMAGE. 1 1 5 
 
 XCII. 
 
 The parted bosom clings to wonted home, 
 If aught that's kindred cheer the welcome hearth .5 
 He that is lonely hither let him roam, 
 And gaze complacent on congenial earth. 
 Greece is no lightsome land of social mirth ; 
 But he whom Sadness sootheth may abide, 
 And scarce regret the region of his birth, 
 When wandering slow by Delphi's sacred side, 
 Or gazing o'er the plains where Greek and Persian died. 
 
 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 defac'd ! 
 Not for such purpose were these altars plac'd : 
 Revere the remnants nations once rever'd : 
 So may our country's name be undisgrac'd, 
 So may'st thou prosper where thy youth was rear'd, 
 By every honest joy of love and life endear'd ! 
 
 I 2 
 
1 16 CHILDE HAROLD'S Canto If. 
 
 XCIV. 
 
 For thee, who thus in too protracted song 
 Hast sooth'd thine idlesse with inglorious lays, 
 Soon shall thy voice be lost amid the throng 
 Of louder minstrels in these later days : 
 To such resign the strife for fading bays — 
 111 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 tod art gone, thou lov'd and Jovely one! 
 Whom youth and youth's affection bound to me ; 
 Who did for me what none beside have done, 
 Nor shrank from one albeit unworthy thee. 
 What is my being ? thou hast ceas'd to be ! 
 Nor staid to welcome here thy wanderer home, 
 Who mourns o'er hours which we no more shall see — 
 Would the} r had never been, or were to come ! 
 Would he had ne'er return'd to find fresh cause to roam ! 
 
Canto II. PILGRIMAGE. 117 
 
 XCVI. 
 
 Oh ! ever loving, lovely, and belov'd ! 
 How selfish Sorrow ponders on the past, 
 And clings to thoughts now better far remov'd ! 
 But Time shall tear thy shadow from me last. 
 All thou could'st have of mine, stern Death ! thou hast ; 
 The parent, friend, and now the more than friend : 
 Ne'er yet for one thine arrows flew so fast, 
 And grief with grief continuing still to blend, 
 Hath snatch'd the little joy that life had yet to lend. 
 
 XCVII. 
 Then must I plunge again into the crowd, 
 And follow all that Peace disdains to seek? 
 Where Revel calls, and Laughter, vainly loud 
 False to the heart, distorts the hollow cheek, 
 To leave the flagging spirit doubly weak; 
 Still o'er the features, which perforce they cheer, 
 To feign the pleasure or conceal the pique ; 
 Smiles form the channel of a future tear, 
 Or raise the writhing lip with ill-dissembled sneer. 
 
118 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. Canto II. 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 What is the worst of woes that wait on age? 
 What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow ? 
 To view each lov'd one blotted from life's page, 
 And be alone on earth, as I am now. 
 Before the Chastener humbly let me bow, 
 O'er hearts divided and o'er hopes destroy'd : 
 Roll on, vain days ! full reckless may ye flow, 
 Since Time hath reft whate'er my soul enjoy'd, 
 And with the ills of Eld mine earlier years alloy '(I. 
 
NOTES. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO I. 
 
 i. 
 
 Yes ! sigh'd o'er Delphi's long-deserted shrine. 
 
 Stanza i. line 6. 
 
 The little village of Castri stands partly on the site of 
 Delphi. .Along the path of the mountain, from Chrysso, 
 are the remains of sepulchres hewn in and from the 
 rock : " One," said the guide, " of a king who hroke his 
 neck hunting." His Majesty had certainly chosen the 
 fittest spot for such an achievement. 
 
 A little above Castri is a cave, supposed the Pythian, 
 of immense depth; the upper part of it is paved, and 
 now a cow-house. 
 
 On the other side of Castri stands a Greek monastery; 
 some way above which is the cleft in the rock, with a 
 range of caverns difficult of ascent, and apparently lead- 
 ing to the interior of the mountain ; probably to the 
 Corycian Cavern mentioned by Pausanias. From this 
 part descend the fountain and the " Dews of Castalie." 
 
122 NOTES. 
 
 2. 
 And rest ye at our " Lady's house of leoe." 
 
 Stanza xx. line 4. 
 
 The Convent of " Our Lady of Punishment," Nossa 
 Senora de Pena*, on the summit of the rock. Below, at 
 some distance, is the Cork Convent, where St. Honorius 
 dug his den, over which is his epitaph. From the hills, 
 the sea adds to the beauty of the view. 
 
 Throughout this purple land, zehere law secures not life. 
 
 Stanza xxi. line last. 
 
 It is a well known fact, that in the year 1809 the assas- 
 sinations in the streets of Lisbon and its vicinity were 
 not confined by the Portuguese to their countrymen ; but 
 that Englishmen were daily butchered: and so far from 
 
 * Since the publication of this Poem, I have been informed 
 of the misapprehension of the term Nossa Senora de Pena. 
 It was owing to the want of the tilde, or mark over the n, which 
 alters the signification of the word: with it, Pena signifies a 
 rock ; without it, Pena has the sense I adopted. I do not 
 think it necessary to alter the passage, as though the com- 
 mon acceptation affixed to it is " our Lady of the Rock," I 
 may well assume the other sense from the severities practised 
 there. 
 
NOTES. 123 
 
 redress being obtained, we were requested not to inter- 
 fere if we perceived any compatriot defending himself 
 against his allies. I was once stopped in the way to the 
 theatre at eight o'clock in the evening, when the streets 
 were not more empty than they generally are at that 
 hour, opposite to an open shop, and in a carriage with 
 a friend; had we not fortunately been armed, I have 
 not the least doubt that we should have adorned a tale 
 instead of telling one. The crime of assassination is 
 not confined to Portugal: in Sicily and Malta we are 
 knocked on the head at a handsome average nightly, 
 and not a Sicilian or Maltese is ever punished ! 
 
 4. 
 Behold the hall where chiefs were late conven'd! 
 
 Stanza xxiv. line 1 . 
 
 The Convention of Cintra was signed in the palace 
 of the Marchese Marialva. The late exploits of Lord 
 Wellington have effaced the follies of Cintra. He has, 
 indeed, done wonders: he has perhaps changed the 
 character of a nation, reconciled rival superstitions, 
 and baffled an enemy who never retreated before his 
 predecessors, 
 
124 NOTES. 
 
 5. 
 Yet Mqfra shall one moment claim delay. 
 
 Stanza xxix. line 1 . 
 
 The extent of Mafra is prodigious ; it contains a pa- 
 lace, convent, and most superb church. The six organs 
 are the most beautiful I ever beheld in point of decora- 
 tion; we did not hear them, but were told that their 
 tones were correspondent to their splendour. Mafra is 
 termed the Escurial of Portugal. 
 
 6. 
 Well doth the Spanish hind the difference know 
 *Twixt him and Lusian slave, the lowest of the low. 
 Stanza xxxiii. lines 8 and 9- 
 
 As I found the Portuguese, so I have characterized 
 them. That they are since improved, at least in courage, 
 is evident. 
 
 7. 
 When Cava's traitor- sire first call'd the band 
 That dy'd thy mountain-streams with Gothic gore. 
 Stanza xxxv. lines 3 and 4. 
 
 Count Julian's daughter, the Helen of Spain. Pelagius 
 
NOTES. 1 25 
 
 preserved his independence in the fastnesses of the As- 
 t arias, and the descendants of his followers, after some 
 centuries, completed their struggle by the conquest of 
 Grenada. 
 
 8. 
 No ! as he speeds, he chaunts; " Viva el Key r 
 
 Stanza xlviii. line 5. 
 
 " Viva el Rey Fernando !" — Long live King Ferdi- 
 nand ! is the chorus of most of the Spanish patriotic 
 songs : they are chiefly in dispraise of the old king 
 Charles, the Queen, and the Prince of Peace. I have 
 heard many of them ; some of the airs are beautiful. 
 Godoy, the Principe de la Paz, was born at Badajoz, 
 On the frontiers of Portugal, and was originally in the 
 ranks of the Spanish Guards, till his person attracted 
 the queen's eyes, and raised him to the dukedom of Al- 
 cudia, &,c. &c. It is to this man that the Spaniards 
 universally impute the ruin of their country. 
 
 9- 
 Bears in his cap the badge of crimson hue, 
 Which tells you whom to shun and whom to greet. 
 Stanza I. lines 2 and 3. 
 
 The red cockade with " Fernando Septimo" in the 
 centre. 
 
126 NOTES. 
 
 10. 
 The ball-pil'd pyramid, the ever-blazing match. 
 
 Stanza li. line last. 
 
 All who have seen a battery will recollect the pyra- 
 midal form in which shot and shells are piled. The 
 Sierra Morena was fortified in every defile through 
 which I passed in my way to Seville. 
 
 11. 
 
 FoiVd by a woman's hand, before a batter'd wall. 
 
 Stanza lvi. line last. 
 
 Such were the exploits of the Maid of Saragoza. 
 When the author was at Seville she walked daily on the 
 Prado, decorated with medals and orders, by command 
 of the Junta. 
 
 12. 
 
 The seal Love's dimpling finger hath impressed 
 Denotes how soft that chin which bears his touch. 
 Stanza lviii. lines 1 and 2. 
 
 Sigilla in mento impressa Amoris digitulo 
 Vestigio demonstrant Mollitudinem. Aul. Gel. 
 
NOTES. 127 
 
 13. 
 
 Oh, thou Parnassus ! 
 
 Stanza lx. line 1. 
 
 These stanzas were written in Castri (Delphos), at 
 the foot of Parnassus, now called Aiccxvpx — Liakura. 
 
 14. 
 Fair is proud Seville; let her country boast 
 Her strength, her wealth, her site of ancient days* 
 Stanza lxv. lines 1 and 2. 
 
 Seville was the Hispalis of the Romans. 
 
 15. 
 
 Ask ye, Bozotian shades! the reason why? 
 
 Stanza lxx. line 5. 
 
 This was written at Thebes, and consequently in the 
 best situation for asking and answering such a question; 
 not as the birth-place of Pindar, but as the capital of 
 Boeotia, where the first riddle was propounded and solved. 
 
 16. 
 Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings. 
 Stanza lxxxii. line last. 
 
 " Medio de fonte leporum 
 il Surgit amari aliquid quod in ipsis floribus angat."Luc. 
 
128 NOTES. 
 
 17. 
 A traitor only fell beneath the feud. 
 
 Stanza lxxxv. line 7. 
 
 Alluding to the conduct and death of Solano, the 
 Governor of Cadiz. 
 
 18. 
 " War even to the knife! ' 
 
 Stanza Ixxxvi. line last. 
 
 " War to the knife." Palafox's answer to the French 
 General at the siege of Saragoza. 
 
 19. 
 And thou, my fiend ! &;c. 
 
 Stanza xci. line 1. 
 
 The Honourable L* W.** of the Guards, who died 
 of a fever at Coimbra. I hadknown him ten years, the 
 better half of his life, and the happiest part of mine. 
 
 In the short space of one month I have lost her who 
 gave me being, and most of those who had made that be- 
 ing tolerable. To me the lines of Young are no fiction; 
 
NOTES. 
 
 129 
 
 11 Insatiate archer ! could not one suffice ? 
 
 Thy shaft flew thrice, and thrice my peace was slain, 
 
 And thrice. ere thrice yon moon had fill'd her horn." 
 
 I should have ventured a verse to the memory of the 
 late Charles Skinner Matthews, Fellow of Downing Col- 
 lege, Cambridge, were he not too much above all praise 
 of mine. His powers of mind, shown in the attainment 
 of greater honours, against the ablest candidates, than 
 those of any,graduate on record at Cambridge, have suffi- 
 ciently established his fame on the spot where it was ac- 
 quired, while his softer qualities live in the recollection of 
 friends who loved him too well to envy his superiority. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO IT. 
 
 1. 
 
 ■despite of war and wasting Jire — 
 
 Stanza i. line 4. 
 
 Part of the Acropolis was destroyed by the explosion 
 of a magazine during the Venetian siege. 
 
 2. 
 But zeorse than steel and fame, and ages slow, 
 Is the dread sceptre and dominion dire 
 Of men who never felt the sacred glow 
 That thoughts of thee and thine onpolislfd breasts bestow. 
 
 Stanza i. line 6. 
 
 We can all feel, or imagine, the regret with which the 
 rains of cities, once the capitals of empires, are beheld ; 
 the reflections suggested by such objects are too trite to 
 require recapitulation. But never did the littleness of 
 man, and the vanity of his very best virtues, of patriotism 
 
NOTES. 131 
 
 to exalt, and of valour to defend his country, appear 
 more conspicuous than in the record of what Athens was,, 
 and the certainty of what she now is. This theatre of 
 contention between mighty factions, of the struggles of 
 orators, the exaltation and deposition of tyrants, the 
 triumph and punishment of generals, is now become a 
 scene of petty intrigue and perpetual disturbance, between 
 the bickering agents of certain British nobility and 
 gentry. " The wild foxes, the owls and serpents in the 
 ruins of Babylon," were surely less degrading than such 
 inhabitants. The Turks have the plea of conquest for their 
 tyranny, and the Greeks have only suffered the fortune of 
 war, incidental to the bravest; but how are the mighty 
 fallen, when two painters contest the privilege of plun- 
 dering the Parthenon, and triumph in turn, according to 
 the tenor of each succeeding firman! Sylla could but 
 punish, Philip subdue, and Xerxes burn Athens; but it 
 remained for the paltry Antiquarian, and his despicable 
 agents, to render her contemptible as himself and his 
 pursuits. 
 
 The Parthenon, before its destruction in part by fire 
 during the Venetian siege, had been a temple, a church, 
 and a mosque. In each point of view it is an object 
 of regard^ it changed its worshippers ; but still it was a 
 place of worship thrice sacred to devotion : its violation 
 is a triple sacrilege. But 
 
 K « 
 
132 notes; 
 
 <e Man, vain mail, 
 " Drest in a little brief authority, 
 " Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven 
 " As make the angels weep." 
 
 3. 
 Far on the solitary shore he sleeps. 
 
 Stanza v. line 2. 
 
 It was not always the custom of the Greeks to burn 
 their dead ; the greater Ajax in particular was interred 
 entire. Almost all the chiefs became gods after their de- 
 cease, and he was indeed neglected, who had not annual 
 games near his tomb, or festivals in honour of his me- 
 mory by his countrymen, as Achilles, Brasidas, &c. and 
 at last even Antinous, whose death was as heroic as his 
 life was infamous. 
 
 4. 
 Here, son of Saturn! was thyfav'rite throne. 
 
 Stanza x. line 3. 
 
 The temple of Jupiter Olympius, of which sixteen 
 columns entirely of marble yet survive : originally there 
 were 150. These columns, however, are by many sup- 
 posed to have belonged to the Pantheon. 
 
NOTES. 1S3 
 
 5. ' '■' ■ 
 
 And bear these altars o'er the long-reluctant brine. 
 
 Stanza xi. line last. 
 
 : The ship was wrecked in the Archipelago. 
 
 6. 
 
 To rive zohat Goth, and Turk, and Time hath spared. 
 
 Stanza xii. line 2. 
 
 At this moment (January 3, 1809), besides what has 
 Been already deposited in London, an Hydroit vessel 
 is in the Piraeus to receive every portable relic. Thus, 
 as I heard a young Greek observe in common with many 
 of his countrymen — for, lost as they are, they yet feel 
 on this occasion — thus may Lord Elgin boast of having 
 ruined Athens. An Italian painter of the first eminence, 
 named Lusieri, is the agent of devastation; and, like the 
 Greek finder of Verres in Sicily, who followed the same 
 profession, he has proved the able instrument of plunder. 
 Between this artist and the French Consul Fauvel, 
 who wishes to rescue the remains for his own govern- 
 ment, there is now a violent dispute concerning a car em- 
 ployed in their conveyance, the wheel of which — I wish 
 they were both broken upon it — has been locked up by 
 the Consul, and Lusieri has laid his complaint before 
 the Waywode* Lord Elgin has been extremely happy 
 
1\H >fOTES. 
 
 in his choice of Signor Lusieri. During a residence of 
 ten years in Athens, he never had the curiosity to pro- 
 ceed as far as Sunium, * till he accompanied us in our se- 
 
 * Now Cape Colonna. In all Attica, if we except Athens 
 itself and Marathon, there is no scene more interesting than 
 Cape Colonna. To the antiquary and artist, sixteen columns 
 are an inexhaustible source of observation and design ; to the 
 philosopher, the supposed scene of some of Plato's conversa- 
 tions will not be unwelcome; and the traveller will be struck 
 with the beauty of the prospect over ** Isles that crown the 
 JEgean deep .-" but for an Englishman, Colonna has yet an 
 additional interest, as the actual spot of Falconer's Shipwreck. 
 Pallas and Plato are forgotten, in the recollection of Falconer 
 aad Campbell. 
 
 * c Here in the dead of night by Lonna's steep, 
 * The seaman's cry was heard along the deep." 
 
 This temple of Minerva may be seen at sea from a great 
 distance. In two journeys which I made, and one voyage to 
 Cape Colonna, the view from either side, by land, was less 
 striking than the approach from the isles. In our second 
 land excursion, we had a narrow escape from a party of 
 Mainnotes, concealed in the caverns beneath. We were told 
 afterwards, by one of their prisoners subsequently ransomed, 
 that they were deterred from attacking us by the appearance 
 of my two Albanians: conjecturing very sagaciously, but 
 
 falsely, that we had a complete guard of these Arnaouts 
 
 .. ni. i. . ■ • ■ • - -- --'-■■■ _.. - 
 
NOTES. 1S5 
 
 cond excursion. However, his works, as far as they go, 
 are most beautiful; but they are almost all unfinished. 
 While he and his patrons confine themselves to tasting 
 medals, appreciating cameos, sketching columns, and 
 cheapening gems, their little absurdities are as harmless 
 as insector fox-hunting, maiden-speechifying, barouche- 
 driving, or any such pastime : but when they carry away 
 three or four shiploads of the most valuable and massy 
 relics that time and barbarism have left to the most in- 
 jured and most celebrated of cities ; when they destroy, in 
 a vain attempt to tear down, those works which havebeen 
 the admiration of ages, I know no motive which can 
 excuse, no name which can designate, the perpetrators of 
 this dastardly devastation. It was not the least of the 
 
 at hand, they remained stationary, and thus saved our party, 
 which was too small to have opposed any effectual resistance. 
 
 Colonna is no less a resort of painters than of pirates ; there 
 
 *' The hireling artist plants his paltry desk, 
 " And makes degraded Nature picturesque." 
 
 (See Hodgson's Lady Jane Grey, &c.) 
 
 But there Nature, with the aid of Art, has done that for her- 
 self. I was fortunate enough to engage a very superior German 
 artist; and hope to renew my acquaintance with this and many 
 other Levantine scenes, by the arrival of his performances. 
 
J 136 NOTES. 
 
 crimes laid to the charge of Verres, that he had plundered 
 Sicily, in the manner since imitated at Athens. The 
 most unblushing impudence could hardly go farther 
 than to affix the name of its plunderer to the walls of the 
 Acropolis; while the wanton and useless defacement of 
 the whole range of the basso-relievos, in one compart- 
 ment of the temple, will never permit that name to be 
 pronounced by an observer without execration. 
 
 „ On this occasion I speak impartially: I am not a 
 -collector or admirer of collections, consequently no ri, 
 yal; but I have some early prepossession in favour of 
 Greece, and do not think the honour of England ad-» 
 vanced .by plunder, whether of India or Attica. 
 
 Another noble Lord has done better, because he has 
 done less: but some others, more or less noble, yet " all 
 honourable men," have done best, because, after a deal of 
 excavation and execration, bribery to the Way wode, min- 
 ingand countermining, they have done nothing at all. 
 Wehad such ink^shed, and wine-shed,which almost ended 
 in bloodshed ! Lord E's " prig," — see Jonathan Wylde 
 for the definition of " priggism," — quarrelled with an- 
 other, Gropius * by name (a very good name too for 
 
 * This Sr. Gropius was employed by a noble Lord for the 
 sole purpose of sketching, in which he excels j but I am sorry 
 
NOTES. 137 
 
 his business) and muttered something about satisfaction, 
 in a verbal answer to a note of the poor Prussian : this 
 was stated attabieto Gropius, who laughed, butcouldeat 
 rio dinner afterwards. The rivals were not reconciled 
 when I left Greece. I have reason to remember their 
 squabble, for they wanted to make me their arbitrator. 
 
 7. 
 Her sons too weak the sacred shrine to guard, 
 Yet felt some portion of their mother's pains. 
 Stanza xii. lines 7 and 8. 
 
 I cannot resist availing myself of the permission of my 
 
 to say, that he has, through the abused sanction of that 
 most respectable name, been treading at humble distance in 
 the steps of Sr. Lusieri. A shipful of his trophies was de- 
 tained, and I believe confiscated at Constantinople in 1810. 
 I am most happy to be now enabled to state, that " this was 
 not in his bond;" that he was employed solely as a painter, 
 and that his noble patron disavows all connection with him, 
 except as an artist. If the error in the first and second 
 edition has given the noble Lord a moment's pain, I am very 
 sorry for it ; Sr. Gropius has assumed for years the name 
 of his agent; and though I cannot much condemn myself for 
 sharing in the mistake of so many,. I am happy in being one 
 of the first to be undeceived. Indeed, I have as much plea* 
 sure in contradicting this as I felt regret in stating it. 
 
138 NOTES. 
 
 friend Dr. Clarke, whose name requires no comment with 
 
 Hhe public, but whose sanction will add tenfold weight to 
 
 my testimony, to insert the following extract from a very 
 
 obliging letter of his to me, as a note to the above lines: — 
 
 " When the last of the Metopes was taken from the 
 Parthenon, and, in moving of it, great part of the super- 
 structure with one of the triglyphs was thrown down by the 
 workmen whom Lord Elgin employed, the Disdar, who 
 beheld the mischief done to the building, took his pipe 
 from his mouth, dropped a tear, and, in a supplicating 
 tone of voice, said to Lusieri ; TiAoj ! — I was present.** 
 
 The Disdar alluded to was the father of the present 
 Disdar. 
 
 8. 
 
 Where was thine Mgis, Pallas ! that appalPd 
 Stern Alaric and Havoc on their way ? 
 
 Stanza xiv. lines 1 and 2. 
 
 According to Zozimus, Minerva and Achilles fright- 
 ened Alaric from the Acropolis ; but others relate that 
 the Gothic king was nearly as mischievous as the Scot- 
 tish peer* — See Chandler. 
 
;NOTES. 139 
 
 9. 
 
 •the netted canopy. 
 
 Stanza xviii, line 2. 
 
 The netting to prevent blocks or splinters from falling 
 on deck during action. 
 
 10. 
 J$ut not in silence pass Calypso's isles. 
 
 Stanza xxix. line 1. 
 
 Goza is said to have been the island of Calypso. 
 
 11- 
 
 Land of Albania I let me bend mine eyes 
 On thee, thou rugged nurse of savage men! 
 
 Stanza xxxviii. lines 5 and 6. 
 
 Albania comprises part of Macedonia, Illyria, Chao- 
 nia, and Epirus. Iskander is the Turkish word for Alex- 
 ander; and the celebrated Scanderbeg (Lord Alexander) 
 is alluded to in the third and fourth lines of the thirty- 
 eighth stanza. I do not know whether I am correct in 
 making Scanderbeg the countryman of Alexander, who 
 was born at Pella in Macedon, but Mr. Gibbon terms 
 him so, and adds Pyrrhus to the list, in speaking of his 
 exploits. 
 
HO NOTES. 
 
 Of Albania Gibbon remarks, that a country " within 
 sight of Italy is less known than the interior of Ame- 
 rica." Circumstances, of little consequence to mention, 
 led Mr. Hobhouse and myself into that country before 
 ~we visited any other part of the Ottoman dominions; and 
 with the exception of Major Leake, then officially resi*- 
 dentat Joannina, no other Englishmen haveever advanced 
 beyond the capital into the interior, as that gentleman 
 very lately assured me. Ali Pacha was at that time 
 (October, J 809) carrying on war against Ibrahim Pacha, 
 whom he had driven to Berat, a strong fortress which 
 he was then besieging : on our arrival at Joannina we 
 were invited to Tepaleni, his Highness's birth-place, 
 and favourite Serai, only one day's distance from Berat; 
 at this juncture the Vizier had made it his head quarters. 
 
 After some stay in the capital, we accordingly follow- 
 ed ; but though furnished with every accommodation 
 and escorted by one of the Vizier's secretaries, we were 
 nine days (on account of the rains) in accomplishing a 
 journey which, on our return, barely occupied four. 
 
 On our route we passed two cities, Argyrocastro and 
 Libochabo, apparently little inferior to Yanina in size ; 
 and no pencil or pen can ever do justice to the scenery 
 in the vicinity of Zitza and Delvinachi, the frontier vil- 
 lage of Epirus and Albania proper. 
 
- - NOTES. F*f 
 
 On Albania and its inhabitants I am unwilling to de- 
 scant, because this will be done so much better by my 
 fellow-traveller, in a work which may probably precede 
 this in publication, that I as little wish to follow as I 
 would to anticipate him. But some few observations' 
 are necessary to the text. 
 
 The Arnaouts, or Albanese, struck me forcibly by 
 their resemblance to the Highlanders of Scotland, in 
 dress, figure, and manner of living. Their very moun- 
 tains seemed Caledonian with a kinder climate. The 
 kilt, though white ; the spare, active form ; their dialect, 
 Celtic in its sound; and their hardy habits, all carried 
 me back to Morven. No nation are so detested and 
 dreaded by their neighbours as the Albanese : the Greeks 
 hardly regard them as Christians, or the Turks as Mos- 
 lems ; and in fact they are a mixture of both, and some- 
 limes neither. Their habits are predatory : all are armed ; 
 and the red-shawled Arnaouts, the Montenegrins, Chi- 
 mariots, and Gegdes are treacherous ; the others differ 
 somewhat in garb, and essentially in character. As far 
 as my own experience goes, I can speak favourably. I 
 was attended by two, an Infidel and a Mussulman, to 
 Constantinople and every other part of Turkey which 
 came within my observation ; and more faithful in peril, 
 or indefatigable in service, are rarely to be found. The 
 Infidel was named Basilius, the Moslem, Dervish Tahin; 
 
142 NOTES. 
 
 the former a man of middle age, and the latter about mr 
 own. Basili was strictly charged by Ali Pacha in person 
 to attend us ; and Dervish was one of fifty who accom- 
 panied us through the forests of Acarnania to the banks 
 of Achelous, and onward to Messalunghi in JEtolia. 
 There I took him into my own service, and never had 
 occasion to repent it till the moment of my departure. 
 
 When in 1 8 1 0, after the departure of my friend Mr. H. 
 for England, I was seized with a severe fever in the Mo- 
 rea, these men saved my life by frightening away my Phy- 
 sician, whose throat they threatened to cut if I was not 
 cured within a given time. To this consolatory assurance 
 of posthumous retribution, and a resolute refusal of Dr. 
 Romanelli's prescriptions, I attributed my recovery. I 
 had left my last remaining English servant at Athens; my 
 dragoman was as ill as myself, and my poor Arnaouts 
 nursed me with an attention which would have done 
 honour to civilization. 
 
 They had a variety of adventures; for the Moslem, 
 Dervish, being a remarkably handsome man, was always 
 squabbling with the husbands of Athens; insomuch that 
 four of the principal Turks paid me a visit of remon- 
 strance at the Convent, on the subject of his having taken 
 a woman from the bath — whom he had lawfully bought 
 however — a thing quite contrary to etiquette. 
 
NOTES. 145 
 
 Basili also was extremely gallant amongst his own per- 
 suasion, and had the greatest veneration for the church,, 
 mixed with the highest contempt of churchmen, whom 
 he cuffed upon occasion in a most heterodox manner. 
 Yet he never passed a church without crossing himself; 
 and I remember the risk he ran in entering St. Sophia, 
 in Stambol, because it had once been a place of his wor- 
 ship. On remonstrating with him on his inconsistent pro- 
 ceedings, he invariably answered, " our church is holy, 
 our priests are thieves;" and then he crossed himself 
 as usual, and boxed the ears of the first " papas " who 
 refused to assist in any required operation, as was 
 always found to be necessary where the priest had any 
 influence with the Cogia Bashi of his village. Indeed 
 a more abandoned race of miscreants cannot exist than 
 the lower orders of the Greek clergy. 
 
 When preparations were made for my return, my Al- 
 banians were summoned to receive their pay. Basili 
 took his with an awkward show of regret at my intended 
 departure, and marched away to lus quarters with his 
 bag of piastres. I sent for Dervish, but for some time 
 he was not to be found; at last he entered, just as Signor 
 Logotheti, father to the ci-devant Anglo-consul of 
 Athens, and some other of my Greek acquaintances 
 paid me a visit. Dervish took the money, but on a 
 sudden dashed it to the ground; and clasping his hands, 
 
144 NOTES. 
 
 which he raised to his forehead, rushed out of the room 
 weeping bitterly. From that moment to the hour of 
 my embarkation he continued his lamentations, and all 
 our efforts to console him only produced this answer, 
 u Ma fsivsi" " He leaves me." Signor Logotheti, who 
 never wept before for any thing less than the loss of a 
 para, # melted; the padre of the convent, my attendants,- 
 my visitors— and I verily believe that even " Sterne's 
 foolish fat scullion" would have left her " fish-kettle," to 
 sympathize with the unaffected and unexpected sorrow 
 of this barbarian. 
 
 For my own part, when I remembered that, a short 
 time before my departure from England, a noble and 
 most intimate associate had excused himself from taking 
 leave of me because he had to attend a relation " to a 
 milliner's/' I felt no less surprised than humiliated by 
 the present occurrence and the past recollection. 
 
 That Dervish would leave me with some regret was to 
 be expected : when master and man have been scram- 
 bling over the mountains of a dozen provinces together, 
 they are unwilling to separate; but his present feelings, 
 contrasted with his native ferocity, improved my opinion 
 of the human heart. I believe this almost feudal fidelity 
 is frequent amongst them. One day, on our journey 
 
 * Para, about the fourth of a farthing. 
 
NOTES. 145 
 
 over Parnassus, an Englishman in my service gave him 
 a push in some dispute about the baggage, which he un- 
 luckily mistook for a blow ; he spoke not, but sat down 
 leaning his head upon his hands. Foreseeing the con- 
 sequences, we endeavoured to explain away the affront, 
 whieh produced the following answer : — " I have been a 
 robber, I am a soldier ; no captain ever struck me ; you 
 are my master, I have eaten your bread, but by that 
 bread ! (a usual oath) had it been otherwise, I would 
 have stabbed the dog your servant, and gone to the 
 mountains." So the affair ended, but from that day 
 forward he never thoroughly forgave the thoughtless 
 fellow who insulted him. 
 
 Dervish excelled in the dance of his country, con- 
 jectured to be a remnant of the ancient Pyrrhic: be that 
 as it may, it is manly, and requires wonderful agility. It 
 is very distinct from the stupid Romaika, the dull round- 
 about of the Greeks, of which our Athenian party had 
 so many specimens. 
 
 The Albanians in general (I do not mean the culti- 
 vators of the earth in the provinces, who have also that 
 appellation, but the mountaineers) have a fine cast of 
 countenance ; and the most beautiful women I ever be- 
 held, in stature and in features, we saw levelling the road 
 
 L 
 
Up NOTES. 
 
 broken down by the torrents between Delvinachi and 
 Libochabo. Their manner of walking is truly theatrical ; 
 but this strut is probably the effect of the capote, or 
 cloak, depending from one shoulder. Their long hair 
 reminds you of the Spartans, and their courage in de- 
 sultory warfare is unquestionable. Though they have 
 some cavalry amongst the Gegdes, I never saw a good 
 Arnaout horseman; my own preferred the English 
 saddles, which, however, they could never keep. But 
 on foot they are not to be subdued by fatigue. 
 
 12. 
 and pass' d the barren spot, 
 
 Where sad Penelope o'erlook'd the wave. 
 
 Stanza xxxix. lines I and 2. 
 
 Ithaca. 
 
 13. 
 Actiuni, Lepanto, fatal Trafalgar. — 
 
 Stanza xl. line 5. 
 
 Actiuni and Trafalgar need no further mention. The 
 battle of Lepanto, equally bloody and considerable but 
 less known, was fought in the gulph of Patras ; here 
 the author of Don Quixote lost his left hand. 
 
NOTES. 147 
 
 14. 
 
 And haiVd the last resort of fruitless love. 
 
 Stanza xli. line 3. 
 
 Leucadia, now Santa Maura. From the promontory 
 (the Lover's Leap) Sappho is said to have thrown her- 
 self. 
 
 15. 
 
 many a Roman chief and Asian king. 
 
 Stanza xlv. line 4. 
 
 It is said, that on the day previous to the battle of 
 .Actium Anthony had thirteen kings at his levee. 
 
 16. 
 Look where the second C&sar's trophies rose! 
 
 Stanza xlv. line 6. 
 
 Nicopolis, whose ruins are most extensive, is at some 
 distance from Actium, where the wall of the Hippo- 
 drome survives in a few fragments. 
 
 17. 
 
 : Acherusia's lake. 
 
 Stanza xlvii. line 1. 
 According to Pouqueville the lake of Yanina; but 
 Pouqueville is always out. 
 
 l 2 
 
I4tf . NOTES, 
 
 18. 
 To greet Albania's chief. 
 
 Stanza xlvii. line 4. 
 
 The celebrated Ali Pacha. Of this extraordinary man 
 there is an incorrect account in Pouqueville's Travels. 
 
 19. 
 Yet here and there some daring mountain band 
 Disdain his poz&er, and from their rocky hold 
 Hurl their defiance far , nor yield, unless to gold. 
 
 Stanza xlvii. line 7. 
 
 Five thousand Suliotes, among the rocks and in the 
 castle of Suli, withstood 30,000 Albanians for eighteen 
 years: the castle at last was taken by bribery. In this 
 contest there were several acts performed not unworthy 
 of the better days of Greece. 
 
 20. 
 Monastic Zitza! fyc. 
 
 Stanza xlviii. line 1. 
 
 The convent and village of Zitza are four hours jour- 
 ney from Joannina, or Yanina, the capital of the Pacha- 
 lick. In the valley the river Kalamas (once the Acheron) 
 flows, and not far from Zitza forms a fine cataract. The 
 
NOTES. 149 
 
 situation is perhaps trfe finest in Greece, though the 
 approach to Delvinachi and parts of Acarnania and 
 JEtolia may contest the palm. Delphi, Parnassus, and, 
 in Attica, even Cape Colonna and PortRaphti, are very 
 inferior; as also every scene in Ionia, or the Troad: I 
 am almost inclined to add the approach to Constanti- 
 nople; but from the different features of the last, a 
 comparison can hardly be made. 
 
 21. • 
 Here dwells the caloyer. 
 
 Stanza xlix. line 6. 
 
 The Greek monks are so called. 
 
 22. 
 Nature's volc&nic amphitheatre. 
 
 Stanza li. line 2. 
 
 The Chimariot mountains appear to have been vol- 
 canic. 
 
 23. 
 behold black Acheron ! 
 
 Stanza li. line 6. 
 
 Now called Kalamas. 
 
150 NOTES. 
 
 2*. 
 in his white capote. 
 
 Stanza Hi. line 7. 
 
 Albanese cloke. 
 
 25. 
 The Sun had sunk behind vast Tomerit. 
 
 Stanza Iv. line 1. 
 
 Anciently Mount Tomarus. 
 
 26. 
 And Laos wide and fierce came rolling by. 
 
 Stanza lv. line 2. 
 
 The river Laos was full at the time the author passed 
 it ; and, immediately above Tepaleen, was to the eye as 
 wide as the Thames at Westminster ; at least in the 
 opinion of the author and his fellow traveller, Mr. Hob- 
 house. In the summer it must be much narrower. It 
 certainly is the finest river in the Levant; neither 
 Achelous, Alpheus, Acheron, Scamander nor Cayster, 
 approached it in breadth or beauty. 
 
NOTES. 151 
 
 27 '. 
 And fellow-countrymen have stood aloof. 
 
 Stanza lxvi. line 8. 
 
 Alluding to the wreckers of Cornwall. 
 
 23. 
 the red wine circling fast. 
 
 Stanza lxxi. line ( l. 
 
 The Albanian Mussulmans do not abstain from wine, 
 and indeed very few of the others. 
 
 29. 
 Each Palikar his sabre from him cast. 
 
 Stanza lxxi. line 7« 
 
 Palikar, shortened when addressed to a single person, 
 from Ha.XtKa.§i, a general name for a soldier amongst the 
 Greeks and Albinese who speak Romaic — it means 
 properly " a lad." 
 
 30. 
 While thus in concert, S(c. 
 
 Stanza lxxii. line last. 
 
 As a specimen of the Albanian or Arnaout dialect of 
 
152 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 the Illyric, I here insert two of their most popular cho- 
 ral songs, which are generally chaunted in dancing by 
 men or women indiscriminately. The first words are 
 merely a kind of chorus without meaning, like some in 
 our own and all other languages. 
 
 1. I. 
 
 Bo, Bo, Bo, Bo, Bo, Bo, Lo, Lo, I come, I come ; be 
 Naciarura, popuso. thou silent. 
 
 2. 
 
 Kaciarura na civin 
 Ha pe nderini ti hin. 
 
 2. 
 
 I come, I run ; open the door 
 that I may enter. 
 
 3. 
 Ha pe uderi escrotini 
 
 Ti vin ti mar servetini. 
 
 S. 
 
 Open the door by halves, that 
 I may take my turban 
 
 4. 
 Caliriote me surme 
 Ea ha pe pse dua tive. 
 
 4. 
 Caliriotes * with the dark 
 eyes, open the gate that I 
 may enter. 
 
 5. 5. 
 
 Buo, Bo, Bo, Bo, Bo, Lo, Lo, I hear thee, my soul. 
 
 Gi egem spirta esimiro. 
 
 * The Albanese, particularly the women, are frequently 
 termed " Caliriotes :" for what reason I inquired in vain. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 153 
 
 6. 
 Caliriote vu le funde 
 Ede vete tunde tunde. 
 
 6. 
 An Arnaout girl, in costly 
 garb, walks with graceful 
 pride. 
 
 Caliriote me surme 
 Ti mi put e poi mi le. 
 
 Caliriot maid of the dark 
 eyes, give me a kiss. 
 
 8. 8. 
 
 Se ti puta citi mora If I have kissed thee, what 
 
 Si mi ri ni veti udo gia. hast thou gained ? My soul 
 
 is consumed with fire. 
 
 9. 
 Va le ni il che cadcile 
 Celo more, more celo. 
 
 9- 
 Dance lightly, more gently, 
 and gently still. 
 
 10. 
 Plu hari ti tirete 
 Plu huron cia pra seti. 
 
 10. 
 Make not so much dust to 
 destroy your embroidered 
 hose. 
 
 The last stanza would puzzle a commentator : the men 
 have certainly buskins of the most beautiful texture, 
 but the ladies (to whom the above is supposed to be 
 
154 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 addressed) have nothing under their little yellow boots 
 and slippers but a well-turned and sometimes very white 
 ancle. The Arnaout girls are much handsomer than 
 the Greeks, and their dress is far more picturesque. 
 They preserve their shape much longer also, from being 
 always in the open air. It is to be observed, that the 
 Arnaout is not a written language ; the words of this 
 song, therefore, as well as the one which follows, are 
 spelt according to their pronunciation. They are co- 
 pied by one who speaks and understands the dialect 
 perfectly, and who is a native of Athens. 
 
 1. 1. 
 
 Ndi sefda tinde ulavossa I am wounded by thy love, 
 Vettimi upri vi lofsa. and have loved but to 
 
 scorch myself. 
 
 2. 2. 
 Ahvaisissomiprivilofse Thou hast consumed me! 
 Si mi rini mi la vosse. Ah, maid! thou hast struck 
 
 me to the heart. 
 
 3. 
 Uti tasa roba stua 
 -Sitti eve tulati dua. 
 
 I have said I wish no dowry, 
 but thine eyes and eye- 
 lashes. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 155 
 
 4. 
 
 Roba stinori ssidua 
 Qu mi sini vetti dua. 
 
 The accursed dowry I want not, 
 but thee only. 
 
 5. 5. 
 
 Qurmini dua civileni Give me thy charms, and let 
 Robati siarmi tildi eni. the portion feed the flames. 
 
 6. 
 Utara pisa vaisisso me 
 
 simi rin ti hapti 
 Eti mi bire a piste si 
 
 gui dendroi tiltati. 
 
 7. 
 Udi vura udorini udiri 
 
 cicova cilti mora 
 Udorini talti hollna u 
 
 ede caimoni mora. 
 
 <3. 
 I have loved thee, maid, with 
 a sincere soul, but thou hast 
 left me like a withered 
 tree. 
 
 If I have placed my hand on 
 thy bosom, what have I 
 gained ? my hand is with- 
 drawn, but retains the flame. 
 
 I believe the two last stanzas, as they are in a differ- 
 ent measure, ought to belong to another ballad. An 
 idea something similar to the thought in the last lines 
 was expressed by Socrates, whose arm having come in 
 contact with one of his " vtfoxo\irioi'* Critobulus or Cleo- 
 bulus, the philosopher complained of a shooting pain as 
 far as his shoulder for some days after, and therefore 
 
156 NOTES. 
 
 very properly resolved to teach his disciples in future 
 without touching them. 
 
 31. 
 Tambourgi! Tambourgi! thy 'larum afar, Mc. 
 Song, Stanza 1. line 1. 
 
 These stanzas are partly taken from different Albinese 
 songs, as far as I was able to make them out by the ex- 
 position of the Albinese in Romaic and Italian. 
 
 32. 
 Remember the moment when Previsa fell. 
 
 Song, Stanza 8. line 1 . 
 
 It was taken by storm from the French. 
 
 33. 
 Fair Greece ! sad relic of departed worth, fyc. 
 
 Stanza lxxiii. line 1 . 
 
 Some thoughts on this subject will be found in the 
 subjoined papers. 
 
NOTES. 1 57 
 
 84. 
 
 Spirit of freedom! when on Phyle's brozc 
 Thou safst with Thrasybulus and his train. 
 
 Stanza lxxiv. lines 1 and 2. 
 
 Phyle, which commands a beautiful view of Athens, 
 has still considerable remains : it was seized by Thra- 
 sybulus previous to the expulsion of the Thirty. 
 
 3.5. 
 Receive the fiery Frank, her former guest. 
 
 Stanza Ixxvii. line 4. 
 
 When taken by the Latins, and retained for several 
 years. — See Gibbon. 
 
 36. 
 The prophet's tomb of all its pious spoil. 
 
 Stanza Ixxvii. line 6. 
 
 Mecca and Medina were taken some time ago by 
 the Wahabees, a sect yearly increasing. 
 i ■ 
 
 37. 
 Thy vales of ever-green, thy hills of snow. 
 
 Stanza lxxxv. line 3. 
 On many of the mountains, particularly Liakura, the 
 snow never is entirely melted, notwithstanding the in- 
 
158 NOTES. 
 
 tense heat of the Summer; but I never saw it lie on the 
 plains even in Winter. 
 
 38. 
 Save where some solitary column mourns 
 Above its prostrate brethren of the cave. 
 
 Stanza lxxxvi. lines 1 and 2. 
 
 Of Mount Pentelicus, from whence the marble was 
 dug that constructed the public edifices of Athens. The 
 modern name is Mount Mendeli. An immense cave 
 formed by the quarries still remains, and will till the end 
 of time. 
 
 39. 
 When Marathon became a magic word. 
 
 Stanza lxxxix. line 7. 
 
 " Siste Viator — heroa calcas !" was the epitaph on the 
 famous Count Merci; — what then must be our feelings 
 when standing on the tumulus of the two hundred 
 (Greeks) who fell on Marathon? The principal barrow 
 has recently been opened by Fauvel; few or no relics, 
 as vases, &c. were found by the excavator. The plain 
 of Marathon was offered to me for sale at the sum of 
 sixteen thousand piastres, about nine hundred pounds ! 
 Alas! — " Expende — quot libras in duce summo — inve- 
 nies?" — was the dust of Miltiades worth no more? it 
 could scarcely have fetched less if sold by weight. 
 
NOTES. 150 
 
 PAPERS REFERRED TO BY NOTE 33. 
 
 I. 
 
 Before I say any thing about a city of which every 
 body, traveller or not, has thought it necessary to say 
 something, I will request Miss Owenson, when she next 
 borrows an Athenian heroine for her four volumes, to 
 have the goodness to marry her to somebody more of a 
 gentleman than a " Disdar Aga," (who by the by is not 
 an Aga) the most impolite of petty officers, the greatest 
 patron of larceny Athens ever saw, (except Lord E.) 
 and the unworthy occupant of the Acropolis, on a 
 handsome annual stipend of 1 50 piastres, (eight pounds 
 sterling) out of which he has only to pay his garrison, 
 the most ill-regulated corps in the ill-regulated Ottoman 
 Empire. I speak it tenderly, seeing I was once the 
 cause of the husband of " Ida of Athens" nearly suffer- 
 ing the bastinado ; and because the said " Disdar" is a 
 turbulent husband, and beats his wife, so that I exhort 
 and beseech Miss Owenson to sue for a separate mainte- 
 nance in behalf of " Ida." Having premised thus much, 
 on a matter of such import to the readers of romances, I 
 may now leave Ida, to mention her birth-place. 
 
160 NOTES. 
 
 Setting aside the magic of the name, and all those 
 associations which it would be pedantic and superfluous 
 to recapitulate, the very situation of Athens would render 
 it the favourite of all who have eyes for art or nature. 
 The climate, to me at least, appeared a perpetual spring; 
 during eight months I never passed a day without being 
 as many hours on horseback : rain is extremely rare, 
 snow never lies in the plains, and a cloudy day is an 
 agreeable rarity. In Spain, Portugal, and every part of 
 the east which I visited, except Ionia and Attica, I per- 
 ceived no such superiority of climate to our own ; and 
 at Constantinople, where I passed May, June, and part 
 of July, (1810) you might " damn the climate, and com- 
 plain of spleen" five days out of seven. 
 
 The air of the Morea is heavy and unwholesome, but 
 the moment you pass the isthmus in the direction of 
 Megara the change is strikingly perceptible. But I fear 
 Hesiod will still be found correct in his description of 
 a Boeotian winter. 
 
 We found at ^ivadia, an " Esprit fort" in a Greek 
 bishop, of all free-thinkers! This worthy hypocrite rallied 
 his own religion with great intrepidity (but not before 
 his flock) and talked of a mass as a " Coglioneria." It 
 was impossible to think better of him for this ; but, for 
 a Boeotian, he was brisk with all his absurdity. This 
 
NOTES. 161 
 
 phenomenon, (with the exception indeed of Thebes, the 
 remains of Chaeronea, the plain of Platea, Orchomenus, 
 Livadia, and its nominal cave of Trophonius), was the 
 only remarkable thing we saw before we passed Mount 
 Cithseron. 
 
 The fountain of Dirce turns a mill: at least, my com- 
 panion (who resolving to be at once cleanly and classical 
 bathed in it) pronounced it to be the fountain of Dirce, 
 and any body who thinks it worth while may contradict 
 him. At Castri we drank of half a dozen streamlets, 
 some not of the purest, before we decided to our satis- 
 faction which was the true Castalian, and even that had 
 a villanous twang, probably from the snow, though it 
 did not throw us into an epic fever, like poor Dr. 
 Chandler. 
 
 From Fort Phyle, of which large remains still exist, 
 the Plain of Athens, Pentelicus, Hymettus, theiEgean, 
 and the Acropolis, burst upon the eye at once ; in my 
 opinion, a more glorious prospect than even Cintra ox 
 Istambol. Not the view from the Troad, with Ida, the 
 Hellespont, and the more distant Mount Athos, can, 
 equal it, though so superior in extent. 
 
 I heard much of the beauty of Arcadia, but excepting 
 
 M 
 
162 NOTES. 
 
 the view from the monastery of Megaspelion, (which is 
 inferior to Zitza in a command of country) and the de- 
 scent from the mountains on the way from Tripolitza to 
 Argos, Arcadia has little to recommend it beyond the 
 name. 
 
 *' Sternitur, et dulces moriens reminiscitur Argos." 
 
 Virgil could have put this into the mouth of none but an 
 Argive ; and (with reverence be it spoken) it does not 
 deserve the epithet. And if the Polynices of Statius, 
 " In mediis audit duo litora campis," did actually hear 
 both shores in crossing the isthmus of Corinth, he had 
 better ears than have ever been worn in such a journey 
 since. 
 
 " Athens/' says a celebrated topographer, " is still the 
 most polished city of Greece." Perhaps it may of Greece, 
 but not of the Greeks ; for Joannina in Epirus is uni- 
 versally allowed, amongst themselves, to be superior in 
 the wealth, refinement, learning, and dialect of its in- 
 habitants. The Athenians are remarkable for their cunr- 
 ning; and the lower orders are not improperly cha- 
 racterized in that proverb, which classes them with 
 " the Jews of Salonica, and the Turks of the Negro- 
 pont." 
 
NOTES. 163 
 
 Among the various foreigners resident in Athens, 
 French, Italians, Germans, Ragusans, &c. there was 
 never a difference of opinion in their estimate of the 
 Greek character, though on all other topics they disputed 
 with great acrimony. 
 
 Mr. Fauvel, the French consul, who has passed thirty 
 years principally at Athens, and to whose talents as an 
 artist and manners as a gentleman none who have known 
 him can refuse their testimony, has frequently declared 
 in my hearing, that the Greeks do not deserve to be 
 emancipated; reasoning on the grounds of their "na- 
 tional and individual depravity," while he forgot that 
 such depravity is to be attributed to causes which can 
 only be removed by the measure he reprobates. 
 
 Mr. Roque, a French merchant of respectabilit} r long- 
 settled in Athens, asserted with the most amusing gravity; 
 " Sir, they are the same Canaille that existed in the daj/s 
 ofThemistoclesl" — an alarming remark to the "Laudator 
 temporis acti." The ancients banished Themistocles; 
 the moderns cheat Monsieur Roque : thus great men 
 have ever been treated ! 
 
 In short, all the Franks who are fixtures, and most of 
 the Englishmen, Germans, Danes, &c. of passage, came 
 over b} r degrees to their opinion, on much the same 
 
 M 2 
 
164 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 grounds that a Turk in England would condemn the na- 
 tion by wholesale, because he was wronged by his lacquey, 
 and overcharged by his washerwoman. 
 
 Certainly it was not a little staggering when the*Sieurs 
 Fauvel and Lusieri, the two greatest demagogues of the 
 day, who divide between them the power of Pericles and 
 the popularity of Cleon, and puzzle the poor Waywode 
 with perpetual differences, agreed in the utter condemna- 
 tion, " nulla virtute redemptum," of the Greeks in ge- 
 neral, and of the Athenians in particular. 
 
 For my own humble opinion, I am loath to hazard it, 
 knowing, as I do, that there be now in MS. no less than 
 five tours of the first magnitude and of the most threaten- 
 ing aspect, all in typographical array, by persons of 
 wit, and honour, and regular common-place books: but, 
 if I may say this without offence, it seems to me rather 
 hard to declare so positively and pertinaciously, as al- 
 most every body has declared, that the Greeks, because 
 they are very bad, will never be better. 
 
 Eton and Sonnini have led us astray by their panegy- 
 rics and projects; but, on the other hand, De Pauw 
 and Thornton have debased the Greeks beyond their 
 dements. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 165 
 
 The Greeks will never be independent ; they will 
 never be sovereigns as heretofore, and God forbid they 
 ever should ! but they may be subjects without being 
 slaves. Our colonists, are not independent, but they 
 are free and industrious, and such may Greece be 
 hereafter. 
 
 At present, like the Catholics of Ireland and the Jews 
 throughout the world, and such other cudgelled and 
 heterodox people, they suffer all the moral and physical 
 ills that can afflict humanity. Their life is a struggle 
 against truth ; they are vicious in their own defence. 
 They are so unused to kindness, that when they occasion- 
 ally meet with it they look upon it with suspicion, as a 
 dog often beaten snaps at your fingers if you attempt to 
 caress him. " They are ungrateful, notoriously, abo- 
 minably ungrateful!" — this is the general cry. Now, in, 
 the name of Nemesis ! for what are they to be grateful? 
 Where is the human being that ever conferred a benefit 
 on Greek or Greeks ? They are to be grateful to the 
 Turks for their fetters, and the Franks for their broken 
 promises and lying counsels: they are to be grateful 
 to the artist who engraves their ruins, and to the anti- 
 quary who carries them away; to the traveller whose 
 janissary flogs them, and to the scribbler whose journal 
 abuses them ! This is the amount of their obligations to 
 foreigners. 
 
166 NOTES. 
 
 II. 
 
 Franciscan Convent, Athens, January 23, 1811. 
 
 Amongst the remnants of the barbarous policy of the 
 earlier ages, are the traces of bondage which yet exist in 
 different countries ; whose inhabitants, however divided 
 in religion and manners, almost all agree in oppression. 
 
 The English have atlast compassionated their Negroes, 
 and under a less bigoted government may probably one 
 day release their Catholic brethren : but the interposi- 
 tion of foreigners alone can emancipate the Greeks, who, 
 otherwise, appear to have as small a chance of redemp- 
 tion from the Turks, as the Jews have from mankind in 
 general. 
 
 Of the ancient Greeks we know more than enough; 
 at least the younger men of Europe devote much of their 
 time to the study of the Greek writers and history, which 
 would be more usefully spent in mastering their own. 
 Of the moderns, we are perhaps more neglectful than 
 they deserve ; and while every man of any pretensions 
 to learning is tiring out his youth, and often his age, in 
 the study of the language and of the harangues of the 
 
NOTES. 167 
 
 Athenian demagogues in favour of freedom, the real or 
 supposed descendants of these sturdy republicans are left 
 to the actual tyranny of their masters, although a veiy 
 slight effort is required to strike off their chains. 
 
 To talk, as the Greeks themselves do, of their rising 
 again to their pristine superiority, would be ridiculous ; 
 as the rest of the world must resume its barbarism, after 
 re-asserting the sovereignty of Greece ; but there seems 
 to be no veiy great obstacle, except in the apathy of the 
 Franks, to their becoming an useful dependency, or even 
 a free state with a proper guarantee; — under correction, 
 however, be it spoken, for many, and well-informed men 
 doubt the practicability even of this. 
 
 The Greeks have never lost their hope, though they 
 are now more divided in opinion on the subject of their 
 probable deliverers. Religion recommends the Russians ; 
 but they have twice been deceived and abandoned by 
 that power, and the dreadful lesson they received after 
 the Muscovite desertion in the Morea has never been for- 
 gotten. The French they dislike; although the subju- 
 gation of the rest of Europe will, probably, be attended 
 by the deliverance of continental Greece. The islanders 
 look to the English for succour, as they have very lately 
 possessed themselves of the Ionian republic, Corfu ex- 
 cepted. But whoever shall appear with arms in their 
 
168 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 hands will be welcome; and when that day arrives, 
 heaven have mercy on the Ottomans, they cannot 
 expect it from the Giaours. c 
 
 But instead of considering what they have been, and 
 speculating on what they may be, let us look at them as 
 they are. 
 
 And here it is impossible to reconcile the contrariety 
 of opinions : some, particularly the merchants, decrying 
 the Greeks in the strongest language; others, generally 
 travellers, turning periods in their eulogy, and publish- 
 ing very curious speculations grafted on their former 
 state, which can have no more effect on their present 
 lot, than the existence of the Incas on the future for- 
 tunes of Peru. 
 
 One very ingenious person terms them the " natural 
 allies" of Englishmen; another, no less ingenious, will 
 not allow them to be the allies of any body, and denies 
 their very descent from the ancients; a third, more in- 
 genious than either, builds a Greek empire on a Russian 
 foundation, and reajizes (on paper) all the chimeras of 
 Catherine II. As to the question of their descent, what 
 can it import whether the Mainnotes are the lineal La- 
 conians or not ? or the present Athenians as indigenous 
 as the bees of Hymettus, or as the grasshoppers, tQ 
 
NOTES. 169 
 
 which they once likened themselves? What Englishman 
 cares if he be of a Danish, Saxon, Norman, or Trojan 
 blood ? or who, except a Welchman, is afflicted with a 
 desire of being descended from Caractacus? 
 
 The poor Greeks do not so much abound in the good 
 things of this world, as to render even their claims to 
 antiquity an object of envy; it is very cruel then, in 
 Mr. Thornton, to disturb them in the possession of all 
 that time has left them : viz. their pedigree, of which 
 they are the more tenacious, as it is all they can call 
 their own. It would be worth while to publish together, 
 and compare, the works of Messrs. Thornton and De 
 Pauw, Eton and Sonnini ; paradox on one side, and 
 prejudice on the other. Mr. Thornton conceives him- 
 self to have claims to public confidence from a fourteen 
 years residence at Pera ; perhaps he may on the subject 
 of the Turks, but this can give him no more insight 
 into the real state of Greece and her inhabitants, than 
 as many years spent in Wapping into that of the 
 Western Highlands. 
 
 The Greeks of Constantinople live in Fanal; and if 
 Mr.Thornton did not oftener cross the Golden Horn than 
 his brother merchants are accustomed to do, I should 
 place no great reliance on his information. I actually 
 heard one of these gentlemen boast of their little general 
 
170 NOTES. 
 
 intercourse with the city, and assert of himself with an 
 air of triumph, that he had heen but four times at Con- 
 stantinople in as many years. 
 
 As to Mr. Thornton's voyages in the Black Sea with 
 Greek vessels, they gave him the same idea of Greece as 
 a cruize to Berwick in a Scotch smack would of Johnny 
 Grot's house. Upon what grounds then does he arro- 
 gate the right of condemning by wholesale a body of 
 men, of whom he can know little ? It is rather a curious 
 circumstance that Mr. Thornton, who so lavishly dis- 
 praises Pouqueville on every occasion of mentioning the 
 Turks, has yet recourse to him as authority on the 
 Greeks, and terms him an impartial observer. Now Dr. 
 Pouqueville is as little entitled to that appellation, as 
 Mr. Thornton to confer it on him. 
 
 The fact is, we are deplorably in want of information 
 on the subject of the Greeks, and in particular their 
 literature, nor is there any probability of our being bet- 
 ter acquainted, till our intercourse becomes more inti- 
 mate or their independence confirmed ; the relations of 
 passing travellers are as little to be depended on as the 
 invectives of angry factors; but till something more 
 can be attained, we must be content witb the little to 
 be acquired from similar sources.* 
 
 * A word, en passant, with Mr. Thornton and Dr. Pouque- 
 
NOTES. 171 
 
 However defective these may be, they are preferable to 
 the paradoxes of men who have read superficially of the 
 
 ville ; who have been guilty between them of sadly clipping 
 the Sultan's Turkish. 
 
 Dr.Pouqueville tells a long story of a Moslem who swallow- 
 ed corrosive sublimate in such quantities that he acquired the 
 name of " Suleyman Yet/en," i. e. quoth the Doctor, '* Suley- 
 man, the eater of corrosive sublimate." " Aha," thinks Mr. 
 Thornton (angry with the Doctor for the fiftieth time) " have 
 I caught you?''' — Then, in a note twice the thickness of the 
 Doctor's anecdote, he questions the Doctor's proficiency in 
 the Turkish tongue, and his veracity in his own. — " For,'* 
 observes Mr. Thornton (after inflicting on us the tough par- 
 ticiple of a Turkish verb) it means nothing more than " Suley- 
 man the eater," and quite cashiers the supplementary sublimate. 
 Now both are right, and both are wrong. If Mr. Thornton 
 when he next resides lc fourteen years in the factory," will 
 consult his Turkish dictionary, or ask any of his Stamboline 
 acquaintance, he will discover that " Suleyma'n yeyen," put 
 together discreetly, mean the " Swallovcer of sublimate," with- 
 out any " Suleyman" in the case; " Suleyma" signifying "cor- 
 rosive sublimate,'''' and not being a proper name on this oc- 
 casion, although it be an orthodox name enough with the 
 addition of n. After Mr. Thornton's frequent hints of pro- 
 found Orientalism, he might have found this out before he 
 sang such paeans over Dr. Pouqueville. 
 
172 NOTES. 
 
 ancients, and seen nothing of the moderns, such as De 
 Pauw ; who, when he asserts that the British breed of 
 horses is ruined by Newmarket, and that the Spartans 
 were cowards in the field, betrays an equal knowledge 
 of English horses and Spartan men. His " philosophi- 
 cal observations" have a much better claim to the title 
 of " poetical." It could not be expected that he who 
 so liberally condemns some of the most celebrated in- 
 stitutions of the ancient, should have mercy on the 
 modern Greeks; and it fortunately happens, that the 
 absurdity of his hypothesis on their forefathers, refutes 
 his sentence on themselves. 
 
 Let us trust then, that in spite of the prophecies of 
 De Pauw, and the doubts of Mr. Thornton, there is a 
 reasonable hope of the redemption of a race of men, 
 who, whatever may be the errors of their religion and 
 policy, have been amply punished by three centuries 
 and a half of captivity. 
 
 After this, I think " Travellers versus Factors" shall be 
 our motto, though the above Mr. Thornton has condemned 
 " hoc genus omne," for mistake and misrepresentation. " Ne 
 Sutor ultra crepidam," " No merchant beyond his bales." 
 N. B. For the benefit of Mr. Thornton, " Sutor" is not a 
 proper name. 
 
NOTES. 173 
 
 III. 
 
 Athens, Franciscan Convent, March 17, 1811. 
 
 u I must have some talk with this learned Theban." 
 
 Some time after my return from Constantinople to 
 this city I received the thirty-first number of the Edin- 
 burgh Review, as a great favour, and certainly at this 
 distance an acceptable one, from the captain of an En- 
 glish frigate off Salamis. In that number, Art. 3. con- 
 taining the review of a French translation of Strabo, 
 there are introduced some remarks on the modern Greeks 
 and their literature, with a short account of Coray, a co- 
 translator in the French version. On those remarks I 
 mean to ground a few observations, and the spot where 
 I now write will I hope be sufficient excuse for intro- 
 ducing them in a work in some degree connected with 
 the Subject. Coray, the most celebrated of living 
 Greeks, at least among the Franks, was born at Scio (in 
 the Review Smyrna is stated, I have reason to think^ 
 incorrectly), and besides the translation of Beccaria and 
 other works mentioned by the reviewer, has published 
 a lexicon in Romaic and French, if I may trust the as- 
 surance of some Danish travellers lately arrived from 
 
174 NOTES. 
 
 Paris ; but the latest we have seen here in French and 
 Greek is that of Gregory Zolikogloou.* Coray has re- 
 cently been involved in an unpleasant controversy with 
 M. Gail,*j- a Parisian commentator and editor of some 
 translations from the Greek poets, in consequence of 
 the Institute having awarded him the prize for his ver- 
 sion of Hippocrates " Us^i vftdrcuv" &c. to the disparage- 
 ment, and consequently displeasure, of the said Gail. 
 To his exertions literary and patriotic great praise is 
 undoubtedly due, but a part of that praise ought not to 
 be withheld from the two brothers Zosimado (merchants 
 settled in Leghorn) who sent him to Paris, and main- 
 
 * I have in my possession an excellent Lexicon " *piyXw<r~ 
 erov" which I received in exchange from S. G — , Esq. for a 
 small gem : my antiquarian friends have never forgotten it, 
 or forgiven me. 
 
 f Tn Gail's pamphlet against Coray he talks of " throwing 
 the insolent Helleniste out of the windows." On this a 
 French critic exclaims : " Ah, my God ! throw an Helleniste 
 out of the window! what sacrilege!" It certainly would be 
 a serious business for those authors who dwell in the attics: 
 but I have quoted the passage merely to prove the similarity 
 of style among the controversialists of all polished countries : 
 London or Edinburgh could hardly parallel this Parisian 
 ebullition. 
 
NOTES. 175 
 
 tained him, for the express purpose of elucidating the 
 ancient, and adding to the modern, researches of his 
 countrymen. Coray, however, is not considered by his 
 countrymen equal to some who lived in the two last 
 centuries ; more particularly Dorotheus of Mitylene, 
 whose Hellenic writings are so much esteemed by the 
 Greeks that Miletius terms him, " Msrx rov ©sxu&fyv 
 xa.) p.evo<pw*a. u§l<flos 'EAAipwy." (P. 224. Ecclesiastical 
 History, vol. iv.) 
 
 Panagiotes Kodrikas, the translator of Fontenelle, 
 and Kamarases, who translated Ocellus Lucanus on the 
 Universe into French, Christodoulus, and more par- 
 ticularly Psalida, whom I have conversed with in Joan- 
 nina, are also in high repute among their literati. The 
 last-mentioned has published in Romaic and Latin a 
 work on u True Happiness," dedicated to Catherine II. 
 But Polyzois, who is stated by the reviewer to be the 
 only modern except Coray who has distinguished him- 
 self by a knowledge of Hellenic, if he be the Polyzois 
 Lampanitziotes of Yanina, who has published a number 
 of editions in Romaic, was neither more nor less than 
 an itinerant vender of books; with the contents of 
 which he had no concern beyond his name on the title 
 page, placed there to secure his property in the pub- 
 lication; and he was, moreover, a man utterly destitute 
 of scholastic acquirements. As the name, l^vever, is 
 
176 NOTES. 
 
 not uncommon, some other Polyzois may have edited 
 the Epistles of Aristaenetus. 
 
 It is to be regretted that the system of continental 
 blockade has closed the few channels through which the 
 Greeks received their publications, particularly Venice 
 and Trieste. Even the common grammars for children 
 are become too dear for the lower orders. Amongst 
 their original works the Geography of Meletius, Arch- 
 bishop of Athens, and a multitude of theological quartos 
 and poetical pamphlets are to be met with : their gram- 
 mars and lexicons of two, three, and four languages are 
 numerous and excellent. Their poetry is in rhyme. The 
 most singular piece I have lately seen is a satire in dia- 
 logue between a Russian, English, and French traveller, 
 and the Way wode of Wallachia (or Blackbey, as they 
 term him) an archbishop, a merchant, and Cogia Bachi 
 (or primate), in succession ; to all of whom under the 
 Turks the writer attributes their present degeneracy. 
 Their songs are sometimes pretty and pathetic, but their 
 tunes generally unpleasing to the ear of a Frank : the 
 best is the famous f AeuJe tfouSss t<uv 'EAAtJvcwv," by the 
 unfortunate Riga. But from a catalogue of more than 
 sixty authors, now before me, only fifteen can be found 
 who have touched on any theme except theology. 
 
 I am entrusted with a commission by a Greek of 
 

 NOTES. 177 
 
 Athens named Marmarotouri to make arrangements, if 
 possible, for printing in London a translation of Barthe- 
 lemi's Anacharsis in Romaic, as he has no other oppor- 
 tunity, unless he dispatches the MS. to Vienna by the 
 Black Sea and Danube. 
 
 The reviewer mentions a school established at Heca- 
 tonesi, and suppressed at the instigation of Sebastiani : 
 he means Cidonies, or, in Turkish, Haivali ; a town on 
 the continent where that institution for a hundred stu- 
 dents and three professors still exists. It is true that 
 this establishment was disturbed by the Porte, under 
 the ridiculous pretext that the Greeks were constructing 
 a fortress instead of a college ; but on investigation, and 
 the payment of some purses to the Divan, it has been 
 permitted to continue, The principal professor, named 
 Veniamin (i. e. Benjamin), is stated to be a man of 
 talent, but a free-thinker. He was born in Lesbos, 
 studied in Italy, and is master of Hellenic, Latin, and 
 some Frank languages ; besides a smattering of the 
 sciences. 
 
 Though it is not my intention to enter farther on this 
 topic than may allude to the article in question, I cannot 
 but observe that the reviewer's lamentation over the fall 
 
 N 
 
17S 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 of the Greeks appears singular, when he closes it with 
 these words : " the change is to be attributed to their mis- 
 fortunes rather than to any * physical degradation.'" It 
 may be true that the Greeks are not physically dege- 
 nerated, and that Constantinople contained on the day 
 when it changed masters as many men of six feet and 
 upwards as in the hour of prosperity; but ancient his- 
 tory and modern politics instruct us that something- 
 more than physical perfection is necessary to preserve a 
 state in vigour and independence ; and the Greeks, in 
 particular, are a melancholy example of the near con- 
 nection between moral degradation and national decay. 
 
 The reviewer mentions a plan " we believe" by Po- 
 temkin for the purification of the Romaic, and I have 
 endeavoured in vain to procure any tidings or traces of 
 its existence. There was an academy in bt. Petersburg 
 for the Greeks ; but it was suppressed by Paul, and has 
 ndt been revived by his successor. 
 
 There is a slip of the pen, and it can only be a slip of 
 the pen, in p. 58. No. 31. of the Edinburgh Review, 
 where these words occur: — " We are told that when 
 the capital of the East yielded to Solyrttan" — It may be 
 presumed that this last word will, in a future edition, be 
 
NOTES. 179 
 
 altered to Mahomet II. * The " ladies of Constan- 
 tinople," it seems, at that period spoke a dialect, " which 
 would not have disgraced the lips of an Athenian." I 
 do not know how that might be, but am sorry to say 
 the ladies in general, and the Athenians in particular, 
 are much altered ; being far from choice either in their 
 
 * In a former number of the Edinburgh Review, 1808, it 
 is observed : " Lord Byron passed some of his early years in 
 Scotland, where he might have learned that pibroch does not 
 mean a bagpipe, any more than duet means ajfiddle." Query, 
 — Was it in Scotland that the young gentlemen of the Edin- 
 burgh Review learned that Soli/man means Mahomet II. any 
 more than criticism means infallibility? — but thus it is, 
 
 " Caedimus inque vicem praebemus crura sagittis." 
 
 The mistake seemed so completely a lapse of the pen (from' 
 the great similarity of the two words, and the total absence of 
 error from the former pages of the literary leviathan) that I 
 should have passed it over as in the text, had I not perceived 
 in the Edinburgh Review much facetious exultation on all 
 such detections, particularly a recent one, where words and 
 syllables are subjects of disquisition and transposition ; and 
 the abovementioned parallel passage in my own case irresisti- 
 bly propelled me to hint how much easier it is to be critical 
 than correct. The gentlemen, having enjoyed many a triumph 
 on such victories, will hardly begrudge me a slight ovation for 
 the present. 
 
 N 2 
 
180 NOTES. 
 
 dialect or expressions, as the whole Attic race are bar- 
 barous to a proverb : 
 
 In Gibbon, vol. x. p. l6l. is the following sentence: — - 
 " The vulgar dialect of the city was gross and barbarous, 
 though the compositions of the church and palace 
 sometimes affected to copy the purity of the Attic 
 models." Whatever may be asserted on the subject, it 
 is difficult to conceive that the " ladies of Constanti- 
 nople," in the reign of the last Caesar, spoke a purer 
 dialect than Anna Comnena wrote three centuries before: 
 and those royal pages are not esteemed the best models 
 of composition, although the princess " yXwrlav ttyev 
 AKPIBI22 ktliKi&ira.v." In the Fanal, and in Yanina, 
 the best Greek is spoken: in the latter there is a flourish- 
 ing school under the direction of Psalida. 
 
 There is now in Athens a pupil of Psalida's, who is 
 making a tour of observation through Greece : he is in- 
 telligent, and better educated than a fellow-commoner 
 of most colleges. I mention this as a proof that the 
 spirit of inquiry is not dormant amongst the Greeks. 
 
 The Reviewer mentions Mr. Wright, the author of 
 
NOTES. 181 
 
 the beautiful poem " Horae Ionicae," as qualified to give 
 details of these nominal Romans and degenerate Greeks, 
 and also of their language : but Mr. Wright, though a 
 good poet and an able man, has made a mistake where 
 he states the Albanian dialect of the Romaic to ap- 
 proximate nearest to the Hellenic ; for the Albanians 
 speak a Romaic as notoriously corrupt as the Scotch 
 of Aberdeenshire, or the Italian of Naples. Ya- 
 nina, (where, next to the Fanal, the Greek is purest) 
 although the capital of Ali Pacha's dominions, is 
 not in Albania but Epirus : and beyond Delvinachi 
 in Albania Proper up to Argyrocastro and Tepaleen 
 (beyond which I did not advance) they speak worse 
 Greek than even the Athenians. I was attended for 
 a year and a half by two of these singular moun- 
 taineers, whose mother tongue is Illyric, and I never 
 heard them or their countrymen (whom I have seen, 
 not only at home, but to the amount of twenty thousand 
 in the army of Vely Pacha) praised for their Greek, 
 but often laughed at for their provincial barbarisms. 
 
 I have in my possession about twenty-five letters, 
 amongst which some from the Bey of Corinth, written 
 to me by Notaras, the Cogia Bachi, and others by the 
 dragoman of theCaimacam of the Morea (which last go- 
 verns in Vely Pacha's absence) are said to be favourable 
 specimens of their epistolary style. I also received some 
 
1 82 NOTES. 
 
 at Constantinople from private persons, written in a 
 most hyperbolical style, but in the true antique charac- 
 ter. The reader will find a fac simile of the hand- 
 writing of a good scribe, with specimens of the Ro- 
 maic, in an appendix at the end of the volume. 
 
 The Reviewer proceeds, after some remarks on the 
 tongue in its past and present state, to a paradox (page 
 59) on the great mischief the knowledge of his own 
 language has done to Coray, who, it seems, is less 
 likely to understand the ancient Greek, because he 
 is perfect master of the modern ! This observation fol- 
 lows a paragraph, recommending, in explicit terms, the 
 study of the Romaic, as " a powerful auxiliary," not 
 only to the traveller and foreign merchant, but also to 
 the classical scholar ; in short, to every body except the 
 only person who can be thoroughly acquainted with its 
 uses : and by a parity of reasoning, our old language is 
 conjectured to be probably more attainable by " fo- 
 reigners" than by ourselves ! Now I am inclined to 
 think, that a Dutch Tyro in our tongue (albeit himself 
 of Saxon blood) would be sadly perplexed with " Sir 
 Tristrem," or any other given " Auchinlech MS." with 
 or without a grammar or glossary ; and to most appre- 
 hensions it seems evident, that none but a native can 
 acquire a competent, far less a complete, knowledge of 
 our obsolete idioms. We may give the critic credit 
 
NOTES. 1 83 
 
 for his ingenuity, but no more believe him than we 
 do Smollet's Lismahago, who maintains that the purest 
 English is spoken in Edinburgh. That Coray may err 
 is very possible; but it' he does, the fault is in the man 
 rather than in his mother tongue, which is, as it ought 
 to be, o\ the greatest aid to the native student. — Here 
 the reviewer proceeds to business on Strabo's trans- 
 lators, and here I close my remarks. 
 
 Sir W. Drummond, Mr. Hamilton, Lord Aberdeen, 
 Dr. Clarke, Captain Leake, Mr. Gell, Mr. Walpole, 
 and many others now in England, have all the requisites 
 to furnish details of this fallen people. The few obser- 
 vations I have offered I should have left where I made 
 them, had not the article in question, and above all the 
 spot where I read it, induced me to advert to those 
 pages which the advantage of my present situation 
 enabled me to clear, or at least to make the attempt. 
 
 I have endeavoured to wave the personal feelings, 
 which rise in despite of me in touching upon any part 
 of the Edinburgh Review; not from a wish to conciliate 
 the favour of its writers, or to cancel the remembrance 
 ©f a syllable I have formerly published, but simply 
 from a sense of the impropriety of mixing up private 
 resentments with a disquisition of the present kind, and 
 more particularly at this distance of time and place. 
 
184 NOTES. 
 
 ADDITIONAL NOTE, ON THE TURKS. 
 
 The difficulties of travelling in Turkey have been 
 much exaggerated, or rather have considerably di- 
 minished of late years. The Mussulmans have been 
 beaten into a kind of sullen civility, very comfortable to 
 voyagers. 
 
 It is hazardous to say much on the subject of Turks 
 and Turkey ; since it is possible to live amongst them 
 twenty years without acquiring information, at least 
 from themselves. As far as my own slight experience 
 carried me I have no complaint to make; but am in- 
 debted for many civilities (I might almost say for 
 friendship), and much hospitality, to Ali Pacha, his son 
 Veli Pacha of the Morea, and several others of high 
 rank in the provinces. Suleyman Aga, late Governor 
 of Athens, and now of Thebes, was a bon vivant, and 
 as social a being as ever sat cross-legged at a tray or a 
 table. During the carnival, when our English party 
 were masquerading, both himself and his successor were 
 more happy to " receive masks" than any dowager in 
 Grosvenor-Square. 
 
 Oh one occasion of his supping at the convent, his 
 
NOTES. 185 
 
 friend and visitor, the Cadi of Thebes, was carried from 
 table perfectly qualified for any club in Christendom ; 
 while the worthy Waywode himself triumphed in his 
 
 fall. 
 
 In all money transactions with the Moslems, I ever 
 found the strictest honour, the highest disinterested- 
 ness. In transacting business with them, there are 
 none of those dirty peculations, under the name of 
 interest, difference of exchange, commission, &c. &c. 
 uniformly found in applying to a Greek consul to cash 
 bills, even on the first Houses in Pera. 
 
 With regard to presents, an established custom in 
 the East, you will rarely find yourself a loser ; as one 
 worth acceptance is generally returned by another of 
 similar value — a horse, or a shawl. 
 
 In the capital and at court the citizens and courtiers 
 are formed in the same school with those of Christi- 
 anity; but there does not exist a more honourable, 
 friendly, and high-spirited character than the true 
 Turkish provincial Aga, or Moslem country-gentleman. 
 It is not meant here to designate the governors of 
 towns, but those Agas who, by a kind of feudal te- 
 nure, possess lands and houses, of more or less extent, 
 in Greece and Asia Minor. 
 
186 NOTES. x 
 
 The lower orders are in as tolerable discipline as the 
 rabble in countries with greater pretensions to civiliza- 
 tion. A Moslem, in walking the streets of our country- 
 towns, would be more incommoded in England than a 
 Frank in a similar situation in Turkey. Regimentals 
 are the best travelling dress. 
 
 The best accounts of the religion, and different sects 
 of Islamism, may be found in D'Olisson's French; of 
 their maimers, &c. perhaps in Thornton's English. The 
 Ottomans, with all their defects, are not a people to be 
 despised. Equal, at least, to the Spaniards, they are 
 superior to the Portuguese. If it be difficult to pro- 
 nounce what they are, we can at least say what they 
 are not : they are not treacherous, they are not cow- 
 ardly, they do not burn heretics, they are not assassins, 
 nor has an enemy advanced to their capital. They are 
 faithful to their sultan till he becomes unfit to govern, 
 and devout to their God without an inquisition. Were 
 they driven from St. Sophia to-morrow, and the French 
 or Russians enthroned in their stead, it would become a 
 question, whether Europe would gain by the exchange? 
 England would certainly be the loser. 
 
 With regard to that ignorance of which they are so 
 generally, and sometimes justly, accused, it may be 
 doubted, always ecxepting France and England, in 
 
NOTES. 187 
 
 what" useful points of knowledge they are excelled by 
 other nations. Is it in the common arts of life? In their 
 manufactures? Is a Turkish sabre inferior to a Toledo? 
 or is a Turk worse clothed or lodged, or fed and taught, 
 than a Spaniard? Are their Pachas worse educated 
 than a Grandee ? or an Effendi than a Knight of St. 
 Jago ? I think not. 
 
 I remember Mahmout, the grandson of Ali Pacha, 
 asking whether my fellow-traveller and myself were in 
 the upper or lower House of Parliament. Now this ques- 
 tion from a boy of ten years old proved that his educa- 
 tion had not been neglected: It may be doubted if an 
 English boy at that age knows the difference of the 
 Divan from a College of Dervises; but I am very sure a 
 Spaniard does not. How little Mahmout, surrounded, 
 as he had been, entirely by his Turkish tutors, had 
 learned that there was such a thing as a Parliament it 
 were useless to conjecture, unless* we suppose that his 
 instructors did not con6ne his studies to the Koran. 
 
 In all the mosques there are schools established, which 
 are very regularly attended; and the poor are taught 
 without the church of Turkey being put into peril. I 
 believe the system is not yet printed, (though there is 
 such a thing as a Turkish press, and books printed on 
 the late military institution of the Nizam Gedidd); nor 
 
188 NOTES. 
 
 have I heard whether the Mufti and the Mollas have 
 subscribed, or the Caimacam and the Tefterdar taken 
 the alarm, for fear the ingenuous youth of the turban 
 should be taught not to " pray to God their way." The 
 Greeks also — a kind of Eastern Irish papists — have a 
 college of their own at Maynooth — no, at Haivali ; 
 where the heterodox receive much the same kind of 
 countenance from the Ottoman as the Catholic college 
 from the English legislature. Who shall then affirm, 
 that the Turks are ignorant bigots, when they thus 
 evince the exact proportion of Christian charity which 
 is tolerated in the most prosperous and orthodox of all 
 possible kingdoms ? But, though they allow all this, 
 they will not suffer the Greeks to participate in their 
 privileges : no, let them fight their battles, and pay 
 their haratch (taxes), be drubbed in this world, and 
 damned in the next. And shall we then emancipate 
 our Irish Helots? Mahomet forbid! We should then 
 be bad Mussulmans, and worse Christians ; at present 
 we unite the best of both — Jesuitical faith, and some- 
 thing not much inferior to Turkish toleration. 
 
POEMS. 
 
POEMS, 
 
 i. 
 
 Written in an Album. 
 
 As o'er the cold sepulchral stone 
 Some name arrests the passer-by; 
 
 Thus, when thou view'st this page alone, 
 May mine attract thy pensive eye ! 
 
192 POEMS. 
 
 And when by thee that name is read, 
 
 Perchance in some succeeding year, 
 Reflect on me as on the dead, 
 
 And think my heart is buried here. 
 
 September \Uh, 1809. 
 
 II. 
 
 Oh Lady ! when I left the shore, 
 
 The distant shore, which gave me birth, 
 I hardly thought to grieve once more, 
 
 To quit another spot on earth : 
 Yet here, amidst this barren isle, 
 
 Where panting Nature droops the head, 
 Where only thou art seen to smile, 
 
 I view my parting hour with dread. 
 
 
POEMS, 193 
 
 Though far from Albin's craggy shore, 
 
 Divided by the dark-blue main ; 
 A few, brief, rolling seasons o'er, 
 
 Perchance I view her cliffs again : 
 But wheresoe'er I now may roam, 
 
 Through scorching clime, and varied sea, 
 Though Time restore me to my home, 
 
 I ne'er shall bend mine eyes on thee : 
 On thee, in whom at once conspire 
 
 All charms which heedless hearts can move, 
 Whom but to see is to admire, 
 
 And, oh ! forgive the word — to love. 
 Forgive the word, in one who ne'er 
 
 With such a word can more offend ; 
 And since thy heart I cannot share, 
 
 Believe me, what I am, thy friend. 
 And who so cold as look on thee, 
 
 Thou lovely wand'rer, and be less ? 
 Nor be, what man should ever be, 
 
 The friend of Beauty in distress ? 
 
194 POEMS. 
 
 Ah ! who would think that form had pass'd 
 
 Through Danger's most destructive path, 
 Had brav'd the death-wing'd tempest's blast, 
 
 And 'scap'd a tyrant's fiercer wrath ? 
 Lady ! when I shall view the walls 
 
 Where free Byzantium once arose ; 
 And Stamboul's Oriental halls 
 
 The Turkish tyrants now enclose ; 
 Though mightiest in the lists of fame, 
 
 That glorious city still shall be ; 
 On me 'twill hold a dearer claim, 
 
 As spot of thy nativity : 
 And though I bid thee now farewell, 
 
 When I behold that wond'rous scene, 
 Since where thou art I may not dwell, 
 
 'Twill soothe to be, where thou hast been. 
 
 September, 1809. 
 
POEMS. 195 
 
 III. 
 
 STANZAS 
 
 Written in passing the Ambracian Gulph, 
 November Vttk, 1809. 
 
 Through cloudless skies, in silvery sheen, 
 Full beams the moon on Actium's coast : 
 
 And on these waves, for Egypt's queen, 
 The ancient world was won and lost. 
 
 And now upon the scene I look, 
 The azure grave of many a Roman ; 
 
 Where stern Ambition once forsook 
 His wavering crown to follow woman. 
 
 o 2 
 
POEMS. 
 
 3. 
 
 Florence ! whom I will love as well 
 
 As ever yet was said or sung, 
 (Since Orpheus sang his spouse from hell) 
 
 Whilst thou art fair and I am young ; 
 
 Sweet Florence ! those were pleasant times, 
 When worlds were staked for ladies' eyes : 
 
 Had bards as many realms as rhymes, 
 Thy charms might raise new Anthonies. 
 
 5. 
 
 Though Fate forbids such things to be, 
 Yet, by thine eyes and ringlets curl'd ! 
 
 I cannot lose a world for thee, 
 
 But would not lose thee for a world. 
 
POEMS. 197 
 
 IV. 
 
 STANZAS 
 
 Composed October llth 1809, during the night, in a thun- 
 der-storm; when the guides had lost their road to Zitza, 
 near the range of mountains formerly called Pindus, in 
 Albania. 
 
 1. 
 
 Chill and mirk is the nightly blast, 
 
 Where Pindus' mountains rise, 
 And angry clouds are pouring fast 
 
 The vengeance of the skies, 
 
 Our guides are gone, our hope is lost, 
 
 And lightnings, as they play, 
 But show where rocks our path have crosr, 
 
 Or gild the torrent's spray. 
 
193 POEMS. 
 
 3. 
 
 Is yon a cot I saw, though low r 
 When lightning broke the gloom — 
 
 How welcome were its shade ! — ah, no ! 
 'Tis but a Turkish tomb. 
 
 4. 
 
 Through sounds of foaming waterfalls, 
 
 I hear a voice exclaim — ~ 
 My way-worn countryman, who calls 
 
 On distant England's name. 
 
 5. 
 
 A shot is fir'd — by foe or friend ? 
 
 Another — 'tis to tell 
 The mountain-peasants to descend, 
 
 And lead us where they dwell. 
 
POEMS. 199 
 
 6. 
 
 Oh ! who in such a night will dare 
 
 To tempt the wilderness ? 
 And who 'mid thunder peals can hear 
 
 Our signal of distress ? 
 
 7. 
 
 And who that heard our shouts would rise 
 
 To try the dubious road ? 
 Nor rather deem from nightly cries 
 
 That outlaws were abroad. 
 
 8. 
 
 Clouds burst, skies flash, oh, dreadful hour ! 
 
 More fiercely pours the storm ! 
 Yet here one thought has still the power 
 
 To keep my bosom warm. 
 
200 POEMS. 
 
 9. 
 
 While wand'ring through each broken path, 
 
 O'er brake and craggy brow ; 
 While elements exhaust their wrath, 
 
 Sweet Florence, where art thou ? 
 
 10. 
 
 Not on the sea, not on the sea, 
 Thy bark hath long been gone : 
 
 Oh, may the storm that pours on me, 
 Bow down my head alone ! 
 
 11. 
 
 Full swiftly blew the swift Siroc, 
 When last I pressed thy lip ; 
 
 And long ere now, with foaming shock, 
 Impell'd thy gallant ship. 
 
POEMS. 20 L 
 
 12. 
 
 Now thou art safe ; nay, long ere now 
 Hast trod the shore of Spain : 
 
 'Twere hard if ought so fair as thou 
 Should linger on the main. 
 
 13. 
 
 And since I now remember thee 
 
 In darkness and in dread, 
 As in those hours of revelry 
 
 Which mirth and music sped ; 
 
 14. 
 
 Do thou amidst the fair white walls, 
 
 If Cadiz yet be free, 
 At times from out her lattic'd halls 
 
 Look o'er the dark blue sea ; 
 
202 POEMS. 
 
 15. 
 
 Then think upon Calypso's isles, 
 Eiideai'd by days gone by; 
 
 To others give a thousand smiles, 
 To me a single sigh. 
 
 16. 
 
 And when the admiring circle mark 
 The paleness of thy face, 
 
 A half form'd tear, a transient spark 
 Of melancholy grace, 
 
 17. 
 
 Again thou'lt smile, and blushing shun 
 
 Some coxcomb's raillery ; 
 Nor own for once thou thought'st of one, 
 
 Who ever thinks on thee. 
 
POEMS. 203 
 
 18. 
 
 Though smile and sigh alike are vain, 
 When sever' d hearts repine, 
 
 My spirit flies o'er mount and main, 
 And mourns in search of thine. 
 
 V. 
 
 Written at Athens. 
 January 16, 1810. 
 
 The spell is broke, the charm is flown ! 
 
 Thus is it with life's fitful fever : 
 We madly smile when we should groan ; 
 
 Delirium is our best deceiver. 
 Each lucid interval of thought 
 
 Recalls the woes of Nature's charter, 
 And he that acts as wise men ought, 
 
 But lives, as saints have died, a martyr. 
 
204 POEMS. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Written after swimming from Sestos to Abydos.* 
 Ma? 9, 1810. 
 
 1. 
 
 If, in the month of dark December, 
 
 Leander, who was nightly wont 
 (What maid will not the tale remember ?) 
 
 To cross thy stream, broad Hellespont ! 
 
 * On the 3d of May, 1810, while the Salsette frigate (Captain 
 Bathurst) was lying in the Dardanelles, Lieutenant Ekenhead of that 
 frigate and the writer of these rhymes swam from the European shore 
 to the Asiatic — by-the-by, from Abydos to Sestos would have been 
 more correct. The whole distance from the place whence we started 
 to our landing on the other side, including the length we were car- 
 ried by the current, was computed by those on board the frigate at 
 upwards of four English miles ; though the actual breadth is barely 
 
POEMS. 205 
 
 2. 
 
 If, when the wintry tempest roar'd, 
 He sped to Hero, nothing loth, 
 
 And thus of old thy current pour'd, 
 Fair Venus ! how I pity both ! 
 
 one. The rapidity of the current is such that no boat can row 
 directly across, and it may in some measure be estimated from the 
 circumstance of the whole distance being accomplished by one of 
 the parties in an hour and five, and by the other in an hour and ten, 
 minutes. The water was extremely cold from the melting of the 
 mountain-snows. About three weeks before, in April, we had 
 made an attempt, but having ridden all the way from theTroad the 
 same morning, and the water being of an icy chillness, we found it 
 necessary to postpone the completion till the frigate anchored below*" 
 the castles, when we swam the straits, as above stated ; entering 
 a considerable way above the European, and landing below the 
 Asiatic, fort. Chevalier says that a young Jew swam the same 
 distance for his mistress ; and Oliver mentions its having been done 
 by a Neapolitan ; but our consul, Tarragona, remembered neither 
 of these circumstances, and tried to dissuade U3 from the attempt. A 
 number of the Salsette's crew were known to have accomplished a 
 greater distance ; and the only thing that surprised me was, that, 
 as doubts had been entertained of the truth of Leander's story, no 
 traveller had ever endeavoured to ascertain its practicability. 
 
206 POEMS. 
 
 For me, degenerate modern wretch, 
 Though in the genial month of May, 
 
 My dripping limbs I faintly stretch, 
 And think I've done a feat to-day. 
 
 4. 
 
 But since he cross'd the rapid tide, 
 According to the doubtful story, 
 
 To woo, — and — Lord knows what beside, 
 And swam for Love, as I for Glory ; 
 
 5. 
 
 'Twere hard to say who fared the best : 
 
 Sad mortals ! thus the Gods still plague you ! 
 
 He lost his labour, I my jest: 
 
 For he was drown'd, and I've the ague. 
 
POEMS. 2Q7 
 
 VII. 
 SONG. 
 
 Zcoyj /x,8, <raV dyccuruj. * 
 Athens, 1810. 
 
 1. 
 
 Maid of Athens, ere we part, 
 Give, oh, give me back my heart ! 
 Or, since that has left my breast, 
 Keep it now, and take the rest ! 
 Hear my vow before I go, 
 Zwfj jX8, era; aywsrta. 
 
 * Zo't mou, sas agapo, or Zujy) jas, ccc; u.yo.'Stw, a Romaic ex- 
 pression of tenderness : if I translate it I shall affront the gentlemen, 
 as it may seem I supposed they could not; and if I do not I may 
 affront the ladies. For fear of any misconstruction on the part of 
 the latter I shall do so, begging pardon of the learned. It means, 
 " My Life, I love you !" which sounds very prettily in all languages, 
 and is as much in fashion in Greece at this day as, Juvenal tells us, 
 the two first words were amongst the Roman ladies, whose erotic 
 expressions were all Hellenized. 
 
20S 
 
 POEM5. 
 
 By those tresses unconfin'd, 
 Woo'd by each iEgean wind ; 
 By those lids whose jetty fringe 
 Kiss thy soft cheeks' blooming tinge ; 
 By those wild eyes like the roe, 
 
 3. 
 
 By that lip I long to taste ; 
 By that zone-encircl'd waist ; 
 By all the token-flowers * that tell 
 What words can never speak so well ; 
 By Love's alternate joy and woe, 
 Zuifj pis, <rd$ ayarow. 
 
 * In the East (where ladies are not taught to write, lest they 
 should scribble assignations) flowers, cinders, pebbles, &c. convey 
 the sentiments of the parties by that universal deputy of Mercury — 
 an old woman. A cinder says, " I burn for thee;" a bunch of 
 flowers tied with hair, " Take me and fly;" but a pebble declares— 
 what nothing else can. 
 
POEMS. 209 
 
 4. 
 Maid of Athens ! I am gone : 
 Think of me, sweet ! when alone. 
 Though I fly to Istambol, * 
 Athens holds my heart and soul : 
 Can I cease to love thee ? No ! 
 Zbiy /xs, <rd,s dyamw. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Translation of the famous Greek War Song, Asu7£ isaTSeg *&* 
 'EkXyvw, written by Riga, who perished in the attempt 
 to revolutionize Greece. The following translation is as 
 literal as the author could make it in verse ; it is of the 
 same measure as that of the original. See Appendix. 
 
 Sons of the Greeks, arise ! 
 
 The glorious hour's gone forth, 
 And, worthy of such ties, 
 
 Display who gave us birth. 
 
 * Constantinople. 
 
210 POEMS. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Sons of Greeks ! let us go 
 In arms against the foe, 
 Till their hated blood shall flow 
 In a river past our feet. 
 
 2. 
 Then manfully despising 
 
 The Turkish tyrant's yoke, 
 Let your country see you rising, 
 
 And all her chains are broke. 
 Brave shades of chiefs and sages, 
 
 Behold the coming strife ! 
 Hellenes of past ages, 
 
 Oh, start again to life ! 
 At the sound of my trumpet, breaking 
 
 Your sleep, oh, join with me ! 
 And the seven-hnTd* city seeking, 
 
 Fight, conquer, till we're free. 
 
 Sons of Greeks, &c. 
 
 * Constantinople. " Eirla^otpos." 
 
POEMS. 211 
 
 3. 
 
 Sparta, Sparta, why in slumbers 
 
 Lethargic dost thou lie ? 
 Awake, and join thy numbers 
 
 With Athens, old ally ! 
 Leonidas recalling, 
 
 That chief of ancient song, 
 Who sav'd ye once from falling, 
 
 The terrible ! the strong ! 
 Who made that bold diversion 
 
 In old Thermopylae, 
 And warring with the Persian 
 
 To keep his country free ; 
 With his three hundred waging 
 
 The battle, long he stood, 
 And like a lion raging, 
 
 Expir'd in seas of blood. 
 
 Sons of Greeks, &c. 
 
 p2 
 
212 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Translation of the Romaic Song, 
 
 " Mrfcvuj \kz$ 'Id vsspitoki 
 " Ofpouoloflr) Xccytiy," &c. 
 
 The song from which this is taken is a great favourite with 
 the young girls of Athens of all classes. Their manner 
 of singing it is by verses in rotation, the whole number 
 present joining in the chorus. I have heard it frequently 
 at our " %^w" in the winter of 1810-11. The air is 
 plaintive and pretty. 
 
 1. 
 
 I enter thy garden of roses, 
 
 BeloVed and fair Haidee, 
 Each morning where Flora reposes, 
 
 For surely I see her in thee. 
 Oh, Lovely ! thus low I implore thee, 
 
 Receive this fond truth from my tongue, 
 Which utters its song to adore thee, 
 
 Yet trembles for what it has sung ; 
 
POEMS. 213 
 
 As the branch, at the bidding of Nature, 
 
 Adds fragrance and fruit to the tree, 
 Through her eyes, through her every feature, 
 
 Shines the soul of the young Haidee. 
 
 2. 
 
 But the loveliest garden grows hateful 
 
 When Love has abandon'd the bowers — 
 Bring me hemlock — since mine is ungrateful, 
 
 That herb is more fragrant than flowers. 
 The poison, when pour'd from the chalice, 
 
 Will deeply embitter the bowl ; 
 But when drunk to escape from thy malice, 
 
 The draught shall be sweet to my soul. 
 Too cruel ! in vain I implore thee 
 
 My heart from these horrors to save : 
 Will nought to my bosom restore thee ? 
 
 Then open the gates of the grave. 
 
214 POEMS. 
 
 'i. 
 
 As the chief who to combat advances 
 
 Secure of his conquest before, 
 Thus thou, with those eyes for thy lances, 
 
 Hast pierc'd through my heart to its core. 
 Ah, tell me, my soul ! must I perish 
 
 By pangs which a smile would dispel? 
 Would the hope, which thou once bad'st me cherish, 
 
 For torture repay me too well ? 
 Now sad is the garden of roses, 
 
 Beloved but false Haidee ! 
 There Flora all wither'd reposes, 
 
 And mourns o'er thine absence with me. 
 
POEMS 
 
 215 
 
 X. 
 
 Written beneath a Picture. 
 
 1. 
 
 Dear object of defeated care ! 
 
 Though now of Love and thee bereft, 
 To reconcile me with despair 
 
 Thine image and my tears are left. 
 
 2. 
 
 'Tis said with Sorrow Time can cope ; 
 
 But this I feel can ne'er be true : 
 For by the death-blow of my Hope 
 
 My Memory immortal grew. 
 
216 POEMS. 
 
 XL 
 
 On Parting. 
 
 1. 
 
 The kiss, dear maid! thy lip has left, 
 Shall never part from mine, 
 
 Till happier hours restore the gift 
 Untainted back to thine. 
 
 2. 
 
 Thy parting glance, which fondly beams, 
 
 An equal love may see : 
 The tear that from thine eyelid streams 
 
 Can weep no change in me. 
 
POEMS. 217 
 
 3. 
 
 I ask no pledge to make me blest 
 
 In gazing when alone ; 
 Nor one memorial for a breast, 
 
 Whose thoughts are all thine own. 
 
 4. 
 
 Nor need I write — to tell the tale 
 My pen were doubly weak : 
 
 Oh ! what can idle words avail, 
 Unless the heart could speak ? 
 
 5. 
 
 By day or night, in weal or woe, 
 That heart, no longer free, 
 
 Must bear the love it cannot show, 
 And silent ache for thee. 
 
218 POEMS. 
 
 XII. 
 
 To Thyrza. 
 
 Without a stone to mark the spot, 
 
 And say, what Truth might well have said, 
 By all, save one, perchance forgot, 
 
 Ah, wherefore art thou lowly laid ? 
 By many a shore and many a sea 
 
 Divided, yet belov'd in vain ; 
 The past, the future fled to thee 
 
 To bid us meet — no — ne'er again ! 
 Could this have been — a word — a look 
 
 That softly said, " We part in peace," 
 Had taught my bosom how to brook, 
 
 With fainter sighs, thy soul's release. 
 And didst thou not, since Death for thee 
 
 Prepar'd a light and pangless dart, 
 Once long for him thou ne'er shalt see, 
 
 Who held, and holds thee in his heart r 
 
POEMS. 219 
 
 Oh ! who like him had watch'd thee here ? 
 
 Or sadly mark'd thy glazing eye, 
 In that dread hour ere death appear, 
 
 When silent Sorrow fears to sigh, 
 Till all was past ? But when no more 
 
 'Twas thine to reck of human woe, 
 Affection's heart-drops, gushing o'er, 
 
 Had flow'd as fast — as now they flow. 
 Shall they not flow, when many a day 
 
 In these, to me, deserted towers, 
 Ere call'd but for a time away, 
 
 Affection's mingling tears were ours i 
 Ours too the glance none saw beside ; 
 
 The smile none else might understand ; 
 The whisper 'd thought of hearts allied, 
 
 The pressure of the thrilling hand ; 
 The kiss so guiltless and refin'd 
 
 That Love each warmer wish forbore ; 
 Those eyes proclaim' d so pure a mind, 
 
 Ev'n passion blush'd to plead for more. 
 
220 POEMS. 
 
 The tone, that taught me to rejoice, 
 
 When prone, unlike thee, to repine ; 
 The song, celestial from thy voice, 
 
 But sweet to me from none but thine ; 
 The pledge we wore — I wear it still, 
 
 But where is thine ? — ah, where art thou ? 
 Oft have I borne the weight of ill, 
 
 But never bent beneath till now ! 
 Well hast thou left in life's best bloom 
 
 The cup of woe for me to drain. 
 If rest alone be in the tomb, 
 
 I would not wish thee here again ; 
 But if in worlds more blest than this 
 
 Thy virtues seek a fitter sphere, 
 Impart some portion of thy bliss, 
 
 To wean me from mine anguish here. 
 Teach me— too early taught by thee ! 
 
 To bear, forgiving and forgiv'n : 
 On earth thy love was such to me ; 
 
 It fain would form my hope in heav'n ! 
 
POEMS. 221 
 
 XIII. 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 Away, away, ye notes of woe ! 
 
 Be silent thou once soothing strain, 
 Or I must flee from hence, for, oh ! 
 
 I dare not trust those sounds again. 
 To me they speak of brighter days : — 
 
 But lull the chords, for now, alas ! 
 I must not think, I may not gaze 
 
 On what I am, on what I was. 
 
 2. 
 
 The voice that made those sounds more sweet 
 Is hush'd, and all their charms are fled ; 
 
 And now their softest notes repeat 
 A dirge, an anthem o'er the dead ! 
 
222 POEMS. 
 
 Yes, Thyrza ! yes, they breathe of thee, 
 Beloved dust ! since dust thou art; 
 
 And all that once was harmony 
 Is worse than discord to my heart ! 
 
 'Tis silent all ! — but on my ear 
 
 The well-remember'd echoes thrill ; 
 I hear a voice I would not hear, 
 
 A voice that now might well be still. 
 Yet oft my doubting soul 'twill shake : 
 
 Ev'n slumber owns its gentle tone, 
 Till consciousness will vainly wake 
 
 To listen, though the dream be flown. 
 
 4. 
 
 Sweet Thyrza ! waking as in sleep, 
 Thou art but now a lovely dream ; 
 
 A star that trembled o'er the deep, 
 
 Then turn'd from earth its tender beam. 
 
POEMS. 223 
 
 But he, who through life's dreary way 
 
 Must pass, when heav'n is veil'd in wrath, 
 
 Will long lament the vanish'd ray 
 That scatter'd gladness o'er his path. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 To Thyrza. 
 Is 
 
 One struggle mor,e, and I am free 
 
 From pangs that rend my heart in twain 
 One last long sigh to love and thee, 
 
 Then back to busy life again. 
 It suits me well to mingle now 
 
 With things that never pleas'd before : 
 Though every joy is fled below, 
 
 What future grief can touch me more ? 
 
224 POEMS. 
 
 2. 
 
 Then bring me wine, the banquet bring ; 
 
 Man was not form'd to live alone : 
 I'll be that light unmeaning thing 
 
 That smiles with all, and weeps with none. 
 It was not thus in days more dear, 
 
 It never would have been, but thou 
 Hast fled, and left me lonely here ; 
 
 Thou'rt nothing, all are nothing now. 
 
 3. 
 
 In vain my lyre would lightly breathe ! 
 
 The smile that sorrow fain would wear 
 But mocks the woe that lurks beneath, 
 
 Like roses o'er a sepulchre. 
 Though gay companions o'er the bowl 
 
 Dispel awhile the sense of ill ; 
 Though pleasure fires the madd'ning soul, 
 
 The heart — the heart is lonely still ! 
 
POEMS. 22.5 
 
 4. 
 
 On many a lone and lovely night 
 
 It soothed to gaze upon the sky ; 
 For then I deem'd the heav'nly light 
 
 Shone sweetly on thy pensive eye : 
 And oft I thought at Cynthia's noon, 
 
 When sailing o'er the iEgean wave, 
 " Now Thyrza gazes on that moon — " 
 
 Alas, it gleam'd upon her grave ! 
 
 5. 
 
 When stretch'd on fever's sleepless bed, 
 
 And sickness shrunk my throbbing veins, 
 " 'Tis comfort still," I faintly said, 
 
 " That Thyrza cannot know my pains :" 
 Like freedom to the time-worn slave, 
 
 A boon 'tis idle then to give, 
 Relenting Nature vainly gave 
 
 My life, when Thyrza ceas'd to live ! 
 
 Q 
 
226 POEMS 
 
 My Thyrza's pledge in better days, 
 
 When love and life alike were new ! 
 How different now thou meer/st my gaze I 
 
 How ting'd by time with sorrow's hue ! 
 The heart that gave itself with thee 
 
 Is silent — ah, were mine as still ! 
 Though cold as e'en the dead can be, 
 
 It feels, it sickens with the chill. 
 
 7. 
 
 Thou bitter pledge ! thou mournful token ? 
 
 Though painful, welcome to my breast ! 
 Still, still, preserve that love unbroken, 
 
 Or break the heart to which thou'rt prest ! 
 Time tempers love, but not removes, 
 
 More hallow'd when its hope is fled : 
 Oh ! what -are thousand living loves 
 
 To that which cannot quit the dead ? 
 
POEMS. 227 
 
 XV. 
 
 EUTHANASIA. 
 
 When Time, or soon or late, shall bring 
 The dreamless sleep that lulls the dead, 
 
 Oblivion ! may thy languid wing 
 Wave gently o'er my dying bed ! 
 
 2. 
 
 No band of friends or heirs be there, 
 To weep, or wish, the coming blow 
 
 No maiden, with dishevell'd hair, 
 To feel, or feign, decorous woe. 
 
 22 
 
228 POEMS 
 
 3. 
 
 But silent let me sink to Earth, 
 With no officious mourners near : 
 
 I would not mar one hour of mirth, 
 Nor startle friendship with a fear. 
 
 4. 
 
 Yet Love, if Love in such an hour 
 Could nobly check its useless sighs, 
 
 Might then exert its latest power 
 In her who lives and him who dies. 
 
 5. 
 
 'Twere sweet, my Psyche ! to the last 
 Thy features still serene to see : 
 
 Forgetful of its struggles past, 
 E'en Pain itself should smile on thee. 
 
POEMS. 229 
 
 6. 
 
 But vain the wish — for Beauty still 
 Will shrink, as shrinks the ebbing breath 
 
 And woman's tears, produc'd at will, 
 Deceive in life, unman in death. 
 
 7. 
 
 Then lonely be my latest hour, 
 Without regret, without a groan ! 
 
 For thousands Death hath ceas'd to lower, 
 And pain been transient or unknown. 
 
 8. 
 
 " Ay, but to die, and go," alas ! 
 
 Where all have gone, and all must go ! 
 To be the nothing that I was 
 
 Ere born to life and living woe ! 
 
230 POEMS. 
 
 9. 
 
 Count o'er the joys thine hours have seen, 
 Count o'er thy days from anguish free, 
 
 And know, whatever thou hast been, 
 'Tis something better not to be. 
 
 XVI. 
 STANZAS. 
 
 " Heu quanto minus est cum reliquis versari quam tui meminisse ! " 
 
 1. 
 And thou art dead, as young and fair 
 
 As aught of mortal birth ; 
 And form so soft, and charms so rare, 
 
 Too soon return'd to Earth ! 
 Though Earth receiv'd them in her bed, 
 And o'er the spot the crowd may tread 
 
 In carelessness or mirth, 
 There is an eye which could not brook 
 A moment on that grave to look. 
 
POEMS. 231 
 
 2. 
 I will not ask where thou liest low, 
 
 Nor gaze upon the spot ; 
 There flowers or weeds at will may grow, 
 
 So I behold them not : 
 It is enough for me to prove 
 That what I lov'd and long must love 
 
 Like common earth can rot ; 
 To me there needs no stone to tell 
 'Tis Nothing that I lov'd so well. 
 
 3. 
 Yet did I love thee to the last 
 
 As fervently as thou, 
 Who didst not change through all the past, 
 
 And canst not alter now. 
 The love where Death has set his seal, 
 Nor age can chill, nor rival steal, 
 
 Nor falsehood disavow : 
 And, what were worse, thou canst not see 
 Or wrong, or change, or fault in me. 
 
232 POEMS. 
 
 4. 
 The better days of life were ours ; 
 
 The worst can be but mine : 
 The sun that cheers, the storm that lower*, 
 
 Shall never more be thine. 
 The silence of that dreamless sleep 
 I envy now too much to weep ; 
 
 Nor need I to repine 
 That all those charms have pass'd away : 
 I might have watch'd through long decay. 
 
 5. 
 
 The flower in ripen'd bloom unmatched 
 
 Must fall the earliest prey, 
 Though by no hand untimely snatch'd, 
 
 The leaves must drop away : 
 And yet it were a greater grief 
 To watch it withering, leaf by leaf, 
 
 Than see it pluek'd to-day; 
 Since earthly eye but ill can bear 
 To trace the change to foul from fair. 
 
POEMS. 233 
 
 6. 
 I know not if I could have borne 
 
 To see thy beauties fade; 
 The night that follow'd such a morn 
 
 Had worn a deeper shade : 
 Thy day without a cloud hath past, 
 And thou wert lovely to the last ; 
 
 Extinguished, not decay'd ; 
 As stars that shoot along the sky 
 Shine brightest as they fall from high. 
 
 7. 
 As once I wept, if I could weep, 
 
 My tears might well be shed, 
 To think I was not near to keep 
 
 One vigil o'er thy bed ; 
 To gaze, how fondly ! on thy face, 
 To fold thee in a faint embrace, 
 
 Uphold thy drooping head ; 
 And show that love, however vain, 
 Nor thou nor I can feel again. 
 
234 POEMS. 
 
 8. 
 Yet how much less it were to gain, 
 
 Though thou hast left me free, 
 The loveliest things that still remain, 
 
 Than thus remember thee! 
 The all of thine that cannot die 
 Through dark and dread Eternity 
 
 Returns again to me, 
 And more thy buried love endears 
 Than aught, except its living years. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 STANZAS. 
 l. 
 If sometimes in the haunts of men, 
 
 Thine image from my breast may fade, 
 The lonely hour presents again 
 
 The semblance of thy gentle shade : 
 And now that sad and silent hour 
 
 Thus much of thee can still restore, 
 And sorrow unobserv'd may pour 
 
 The plaint she dare riot speak before. 
 
POEMS. 235 
 
 2. 
 
 Oh, pardon that in crowds awhile, 
 
 I waste one thought I owe to thee, 
 And, self-condemned, appear to smile, 
 
 Unfaithful to thy Memory ! 
 Nor deem that memory less dear, 
 
 That then I seem not to repine ; 
 I would not fools should overhear 
 
 One sigh that should be wholly thine. 
 
 If not the Goblet pass unquaff ' d, 
 
 It is not drain'd to banish care, 
 The cup must hold a deadlier draught 
 
 That brings a Lethe for despair ; 
 And could Oblivion set my soul 
 
 From all her troubled visions free, 
 I'd dash to earth the sweetest bowl 
 
 That drown'd a single thought of thee. 
 
236 POEMS. 
 
 4. 
 
 For wert thou vanish'd from my mind, 
 
 Where could my vacant bosom turn ? 
 And who would then remain behind 
 
 To honour thine abandon'd Urn ? 
 No, No — it is my sorrow's pride 
 
 That last dear duty to fulfil ; 
 Though all the world forget beside, 
 
 'Tis meet that I remember still. 
 
 •5. 
 
 For well I know, that such had been 
 
 Thy gentle care for him who now 
 Unmourn'd shall quit this mortal scene, 
 
 Where none regarded him, but thou : 
 And, Oh ! I feel in that was given, 
 
 A blessing never meant for me ; 
 Thou wert too like a dream of Heaven, 
 
 For earthly Love to merit thee. 
 
 March Uth, 1812. 
 
POEMS. 237 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 On a Cornelian Heart which was broken. 
 
 1. 
 Ill-fated heart ! and can it be 
 
 That thou shouldst thus be rent in twain ! 
 Have years of care for thine and thee 
 
 Alike been all employed in vain ? 
 
 2. 
 Yet precious seems each shatter'd part, 
 
 And every fragment dearer grown, 
 Since he who wears thee, feels thou art 
 
 A fitter emblem of his own. 
 
238 POEMS. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 [This poem and the following were written some years ago.] 
 To a Youthful Friend. 
 
 1. 
 Few years have pass'd since thou and I 
 
 Were firmest friends, at least in name, 
 And childhood's gay sincerity 
 
 Preserv'd our feelings long the same. 
 
 2. 
 
 But now, like me, too well thou know'st 
 
 What trifles oft the heart recall ; 
 And those who^ once have lov'd the most 
 
 Too soon forget they lov'd at all. 
 
 3. 
 And such the change the heart displays, 
 
 So frail is early friendship's reign, 
 A month's brief lapse, perhaps a day's, 
 
 Will view thy mind estrang'd again. 
 
POEMS. 239 
 
 4, 
 
 If so, it never shall be mine 
 
 To mourn the loss of such a heart ; 
 The fault was Nature's fault not thine, 
 
 Which made thee fickle as thou art. 
 
 5. 
 As rolls the ocean's changing tide, 
 
 So human feelings ebb and flow ; 
 And who would in a breast confide 
 
 Where stormy passions ever glow ? 
 
 6. 
 It boots not, that together bred, 
 
 Our childish days were days of joy ; 
 My spring of life has quickly fled ; 
 
 Thou, too, liast ceas'd to be a boy. 
 
 7. 
 And when we bid adieu to youth, 
 
 Slaves to the specious world's controul, 
 We sigh a long farewell to truth ; 
 
 That world corrupts the noblest soul. 
 
240 POEMS. 
 
 8. 
 Ah, joyous season! when the mind 
 
 Dares all things boldly but to lie ; 
 When thought ere spoke is unconfin'd, 
 
 And sparkles in the placid eye. 
 
 9. 
 Not so in Man's maturer years, 
 
 When Man himself is but a tool, 
 When interest sways our hopes and fears, 
 
 And all must love and hate by rule. 
 
 10. 
 With fools in kindred vice the same, 
 
 We learn at length our faults to blend, 
 And those, and those alone may claim 
 
 The prostituted name of friend. 
 
 11. 
 Such is the common lot of man : 
 
 Can we then 'scape from folly free ? 
 Can we reverse the general plan, 
 
 Nor be what all in turn must be ? 
 
POEMS. 241 
 
 12. 
 No, for myself, so dark my fate 
 
 Through every turn of life hath been ; 
 Man and the world I so much hate, 
 
 I care not when I quit the scene; 
 
 13. 
 But thou, with spirit frail and light, 
 
 Wilt shine awhile and pass away, 
 As glow-worms sparkle through the nighty 
 
 But dare not stand the test of day- 
 
 14. 
 Alas ! whenever folly calls 
 
 Where parasites and princes meet, 
 (For cherish'd first in royal halls, 
 
 The welcome vices kindly greet) 
 
 15. 
 Ev'n now thou'rt nightly seen to add 
 
 One insect to the fluttering crowd ; 
 And still thy trifling heart is glad, 
 
 To join the vain, and court the proud. 
 
242 POEMS. 
 
 16. 
 There dost thou glide from fair to fair, 
 
 Still simpering on with eager haste, 
 As flies along the gay parterre, 
 
 That taint the flowers they scarcely taste. 
 
 17. 
 But say, what nymph will prize the flame 
 
 Which seems, as marshy vapours move, 
 To flit along from dame to dame, 
 
 An iguis-fatuus gleam of love ? 
 
 18. 
 What friend for thee, howe'er inclin'd, 
 
 Will deign to own a kindred care ? 
 Who will debase his manly mind, 
 
 For friendship every fool may share ? 
 
 .19. 
 In time forbear ; amidst the throng 
 
 No more so base a thing be seen ; 
 No more so idly pass along : 
 
 Be something, any thing, but — mean. 
 
POEMS. 243 
 
 XX. 
 
 J'q ###*** 
 
 l. 
 Well ! thou art happy, and I feel 
 
 That I should thus be happy too ; 
 For still my heart regards thy weal 
 
 Warmly, as it was wont to do. 
 
 2. 
 Thy husband's blest — and 'twill impart 
 
 Some pangs to view his happier lot : 
 But let them pass — Oh ! how my heart 
 
 Would hate him, if he lov'd thee not ! 
 
 3. 
 When late I saw thy favourite child, 
 
 I thought my jealous heart would break ; 
 But when th' unconscious infant smil'd, 
 I kiss'd it, for its mother's sake. 
 
 r 2 
 
244< POEMS. 
 
 4. 
 I kiss'd it, and repress'd my sighs 
 
 Its father in its face to see ; 
 But then it had its mother's eyes, 
 
 And they were all to love and me. 
 
 5. 
 Mary, adieu ! I must away : 
 
 While thou art blest I'll not repine ; 
 But near thee I can never stay ; 
 
 My heart would soon again be thine. 
 
 6. 
 I deem'd that time, I deem'd that pride 
 
 Had quench'd at length my boyish flame j 
 Nor knew, till seated by thy side, 
 
 My heart in all, save hope, the same. 
 
 7. 
 Yet was I calm : I knew the time 
 
 My breast would thrill before thy look j 
 But now to tremble were a crime — 
 
 We met, and not a nerve was shook. 
 
POEMS. 245 
 
 8, 
 I saw thee gaze upon my face, 
 
 Yet meet with no confusion there : 
 One only feeling could'st thou trace ; 
 
 The sullen calmness of despair. 
 
 9- 
 Away ! away ! my early dream 
 
 Remembrance never must awake : 
 Oh ! where is Lethe's fabled stream ? 
 
 My foolish heart be still, or break. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 From the Portuguese. 
 In moments to delight devoted, 
 
 " My life !" with tend'rest tone, you cry ; 
 Dear words ! on which my heart had doated, 
 
 If youth could neither fade nor die. 
 To death even hours like these must roll, 
 
 Ah ! then repeat those accents never ; 
 Or change " my life !" into " my soul ! " 
 
 Which, like my love, exists for ever. 
 
246 POEMS. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Impromptu, in Reply to a Friend. 
 When from the heart where Sorrow sits 
 
 Her dusky shadow mounts too high, 
 And o'er the changing aspect flits, 
 
 And clouds the brow, or fills the eye ; 
 Heed not that gloom, which soon shall sink : 
 
 My thought their dungeon know too well ; 
 Back to my breast the wanderers shrink, 
 
 And droop within their silent cell. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Address, spoken at the opening of Drury-lane Theatre, 
 
 Saturday, October 10th, 1812. 
 In one dread night our city saw, and sighed, 
 Bowed to the dust, the Drama's tower of pride ; 
 In one short hour beheld the blazing fane, 
 Apollo sink, and Shakspeare cease to reign. 
 
 Ye who beheld, (oh! sight admired and mourned, 
 Whose radiance mocked the ruin it adorned!) 
 
POEMS. 247 
 
 Through clouds of fire, the massy fragments riven, 
 Like Israel's pillar, chase the night from heaven ; 
 Saw the long column of revolving flames 
 Shake its red shadow o'er the startled Thames, 
 While thousands, thronged around the burning dome, 
 Shrank back appalled, and trembled for their home, 
 As glared the volumed blaze, and ghastly shone 
 The skies, with lightnings awful as their own, 
 Till blackening ashes and the lonely wall 
 Usurped the Muse's realm, and marked her fall ; 
 Say — shall this new nor less aspiring pile, 
 Reared where once rose the mightiest in our isle, 
 Know the same favour which the former knew, 
 A shrine for Shakspeare — worthy him and you% 
 
 Yes — it shall be — the magic of that name 
 Defies the scythe of time, the torch of flame ; 
 On the same spot still consecrates the scene, 
 And bids the Drama be where she hath been : 
 This fabric's birth attests the potent spell— ^ 
 Indulge our honest pride, and say, How well! 
 
248 POEMS. 
 
 As soars this fane to emulate the last, 
 Oh ! might we draw our omens from the past, 
 Some hour propitious to our prayers may boast 
 Names such as hallow still the dome we lost. 
 On Drury first your Siddons' thrilling art 
 O'erwhelm'd the gentlest, stormed the sternest heart, 
 On Drury, Garrick's latest laurels grew ; 
 Here your last tears retiring Roscius drew, 
 Sighed his last thanks, and wept his last adieu: 
 But still for living wit the wreaths may bloom 
 That only waste their odours o'er the tomb. 
 Such Drury claimed and claims, — nor you refuse 
 One tribute to revive his slumbering muse ; 
 With garlands deck your own Menander's head ! 
 Nor hoard your honours idly for the dead ! 
 
 Dear are the days which made our annals bright, 
 Ere Garrick fled, or Brinsley ceased to write. 
 Heirs to their labours, like all high-born heirs, 
 Vain of our ancestry as they of theirs; 
 While thus Remembrance borrows Banquo's glass 
 Yo claim the sceptred shadows as they pass. 
 
POEMS. 049 
 
 And we the mirror hold, where imaged shine 
 Immortal names, emblazoned on our line — 
 Pause — ere their feebler offspring you condemn^ 
 Reflect how hard the task to rival them ! 
 
 Friends of the stage ! to whom both Players and Plays 
 Must sue alike for pardon, or for praise, 
 Whose judging voice and eye alone direct 
 The boundless power to cherish or reject ; 
 If e'er frivolity has led to fame, 
 And made us blush that you forbore to blame ; 
 If e'er the sinking stage could condescend 
 To soothe the sickly taste, it dare not mend, 
 All past reproach may present scenes refute, 
 And censure, wisely loud, be justly mute ! 
 Oh ! since your fiat stamps the Drama's laws, 
 Forbear to mock us with misplac'd applause ; 
 So pride shall doubly nerve the actor's powers, 
 And reason's voice be echo'd back by ours ! 
 
 This greeting o'er, the ancient rule obey'd, 
 The Drama's homage by her herald paid, 
 
250 POEMS. 
 
 Receive our welcome too, whose every tone 
 
 Springs from our hearts, and fain would win your own. 
 
 The curtain rises — may our stage unfold 
 
 Scenes not unworthy Drury's days of old ! 
 
 Britons our judges, Nature for our guide, 
 
 Still may we please— long, long may you preside. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 To Time. 
 Time! on whose arbitrary wing 
 
 The varying hours must flag or fly, 
 Whose tardy winter, fleeting spring, 
 
 But drag or drive us on to die — 
 Hail thou ! who on my birth bestow'd 
 
 Those boons to all that know thee known ; 
 Yet better I sustain thy load, 
 
 For now I bear the weight alone. 
 I would not one fond heart should share 
 
 The bitter moments thou hast given ; 
 And pardon thee, since thou could'st spare 
 
 All that I lov'd, to peace or heav'n. 
 
POEMS. 251 
 
 To them be joy or rest, on me 
 
 Thy future ills shall press in vain ; 
 I nothing owe but years to thee, 
 
 A debt already paid in pain. 
 Yet even that pain was some relief; 
 
 It felt, but still forgot thy pow'r : 
 The active agony of grief 
 
 Retards, but never counts the hour. 
 In joy I've sigh'd to think thy flight 
 
 Would soon subside from swift to slow 
 Thy cloud could overcast the light, 
 
 But could not add a night to woe ; 
 For then, however drear and dark, 
 
 My soul was suited to thy sky ; 
 One star alone shot forth a spark 
 
 To prove thee — not Eternity. 
 That beam hath sunk, and now thou art 
 
 A blank ; a thing to count and curse 
 Through each dull tedious trifling part, 
 
 Which all regret, yet all rehearse. 
 One scene even thou canst not deform ; 
 
 The limit of thy sloth or speed, 
 
252 POEMS. 
 
 When future wanderers bear the storm 
 Which we shall sleep too sound to heed 
 
 And I can smile to think how weak 
 Thine efforts shortly shall be shown, 
 
 When all the vengeance thou canst wreak 
 Must fall upon — a nameless stone ! 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Translation of a Romaic Love Song. 
 
 I. 
 Ah ! Love was never yet without 
 The pang, the agony, the doubt, 
 Which rends my heart with ceaseless sigh, 
 While day and night roll darkling by. 
 
 2. 
 Without one friend to hear my woe, 
 I faint, I die beneath the blow. 
 That Love had arrows, well I knew ; 
 Alas ! I find them poison'd too. 
 
POEMS 1 . 253 
 
 3. 
 Birds, yet in freedom, shun the net, 
 Which Love around your haunts hath set ; 
 Or circled by his fatal fire, 
 Your hearts shall burn, your hopes expire* 
 
 4. 
 A bird of free and careless wing 
 Was I, through many a smiling spring ; 
 But caught within the subtle snare, 
 I burn, and feebly flutter there. 
 
 5. 
 Who ne'er have loved, and loved in vain, 
 Can neither feel nor pity pain, 
 The cold repulse, the look askance, 
 The lightning of Love's angry glance. 
 
 6. 
 In flattering dreams I deemed thee mine ; 
 Now hope, and he who hoped, decline ; 
 Like melting wax, or withering flower, 
 I feel my passion, and thy power. 
 
254 POEMS, 
 
 7. 
 My light of life ! ah, tell me why 
 That pouting lip, and alter'd eye ? 
 My bird of love ! my beauteous mate ! 
 And art thou chang'd, and canst thou hate ? 
 
 8. 
 Mine eyes like wintry streams o'erflow : 
 What wretch with me would barter woe ? 
 My bird ! relent : one note could give 
 
 A charm, to bid thy lover live. 
 
 j - ■ 
 
 % 
 
 My curdling blood, my madd'ning brain, 
 
 In silent anguish I sustain ; 
 And still thy heart, without partaking- 
 One pang, exults — while mine is breaking. 
 
 10. 
 Pour me the poison ; fear not thou ! 
 Thou canst not murder more than now : 
 I've lived to curse my natal day, 
 And Love, that thus carj lingering slay. 
 
POEMS. 255 
 
 11. 
 
 My wounded soul, my bleeding breast, 
 Can patience preach thee into rest ? 
 Alas ! too late, I dearly know, 
 That joy is harbinger of woe. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 A Song. 
 
 1. 
 
 Thou art not false, but thou art fickle, 
 To those thyself so fondly sought ; 
 
 The tears that thou hast forc'd to trickle 
 Are doubly bitter from that thought : 
 
 'Tis this which breaks the heart thou grievest, 
 
 Too well thou lov'st — too soon thou leavest. 
 
256 POEMS. 
 
 2. 
 The wholly false the heart despises, 
 
 And spurns deceiver and deceit; 
 But her who not a thought disguises, 
 
 Whose love is as sincere as sweet, 
 When she can change who lov'd so truly, 
 It feels what mine has felt so newly. 
 
 3. 
 To dream of joy and wake to sorrow 
 
 Is doom'd to all who love or live ; 
 And if, when conscious on the morrow, 
 
 We scarce our fancy can forgive, 
 That cheated us in slumber only, 
 To leave the waking soul more lonely, 
 
 4. 
 What must they feel whom no false vision, 
 
 But truest, tenderest passion warm'd ? 
 Sincere, but swift in sad transition, 
 
 As if a dream alone had charm'd ? 
 Ah ! sure such grief is fancy's scheming, 
 And all thy change can be but dreaming ! 
 
POEMS. 257 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 On being asked what zcas the " Origin of Love T* 
 
 The " Origin of Love !" — Ah why 
 
 That cruel question ask of me, 
 When thou may'st read in many an eye 
 
 He starts to life on seeing thee ? 
 And should'st thou seek his end to know — 
 
 My heart forebodes, my fears foresee, 
 He'll linger long in silent woe ; 
 
 But live — until I cease to be. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Remember him, &c 
 
 1. 
 Remember him, whom passion's power 
 
 Severely, deeply, vainly proved : 
 Remember thou that dangerous hour 
 
 When neither fell, though both were loved. 
 
 s 
 
258 POEMS. 
 
 That yielding breast, that melting eye, 
 Too much invited to be blest : 
 
 That gentle prayer, that pleading sigh, 
 The wilder wish reprov'd, repress'd. 
 
 3. 
 
 Oh ! let me feel that all I lost 
 
 But saved thee all that conscience fears : 
 And blush for every pang it cost 
 
 To spare the vain remorse of years. 
 
 4. 
 Yet think of this when many a tongue, 
 
 Whose busy accents whisper blame, 
 Would do the heart that loved thee wrong, 
 
 And brand a nearly blighted name. 
 
 5. 
 Think that, whate'er to others, thou 
 
 Hast seen each selfish thought subdued : 
 I bless thy purer soul even now, 
 
 Even now, in midnight solitude. 
 
POEMS. 259 
 
 6. 
 
 Oh, God ! that we had met in time, 
 Our hearts as fond, thy hand more free, 
 
 When thou had'st lov'd without a crime, 
 And I been less unworthy thee ! 
 
 7. 
 
 Far may thy days as heretofore 
 
 From this our gaudy world be pass'd ! 
 
 And that too bitter moment o'er, 
 Oh ! may such trial be thy last ! 
 
 8. 
 This heart, alas ! perverted long, 
 
 Itself destroyed might there destroy ; 
 To meet thee in the glittering throng, 
 
 Would wake Presumption's hope of joy. 
 
 9- 
 Then to the things whose bliss or woe 
 
 Like mine is wild and worthless all — 
 That world resign — such scenes forego, 
 Where those who feel must surely fall. 
 
 s (2 
 
260 POEMS. 
 
 10. 
 Thy youth, thy charms, thy tenderness, 
 
 Thy soul from long seclusion pure ; 
 From what even here hath past may guess 
 
 What there thy bosom must endure. 
 
 11. 
 
 Oh ! pardon that imploring tear, 
 Since not by Virtue shed in vain, 
 
 My frenzy drew from eyes so dear ; 
 For me they shall not weep again. 
 
 12. 
 Though long and mournful must it be, 
 
 The thought that we no more may meet ; 
 Yet I deserve the stern decree, 
 
 And almost deem the sentence sweet. 
 
 13. 
 Still, had I lov'd thee less, my heart 
 
 Had less have sacrificed to thine ; 
 It felt not half so much to part, 
 
 As if its guilt had made thee mine. 
 
POEMS. 261 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Lines inscribed upon a Cup formed from a Skull. 
 
 1. 
 
 Start not — nor deem my spirit fled : 
 
 In me behold the only skull, 
 From which, unlike a living head, 
 
 Whatever flows is never dull. 
 
 2. 
 I lived, I loved, I quaff'd, like thee ; 
 
 I died ; let earth my bones resign : 
 Fill up — thou canst not injure me; 
 
 The worm hath fouler lips than thine. 
 
 3. 
 Better to hold the sparkling grape 
 
 Than nurse the earth-worm's slimy brood ; 
 And circle in the goblet's shape 
 
 The drink of Gods, than reptile's food. 
 
262 POEMS, 
 
 4. 
 Where once my wit, perchance, hath shone, 
 
 In aid of others' let me shine ; 
 And when, alas ! our brains are gone, 
 
 What nobler substitute than wine ! 
 
 5. 
 Quaff while thou canst — another race, 
 
 When thou and thine like me are sped, 
 May rescue thee from earth's embrace, * 
 
 And rhyme and revel with the dead. 
 
 6. 
 Why not ? since through life's little day 
 
 Our heads such sad effects produce — 
 Redeemed from worms and wasting clay, 
 
 This chance is theirs, to be of use. 
 
 Newstead Abbey, 1808. 
 
POEMS. 263 
 
 XXX. 
 
 On the Death of Sir Peter Parker, Bart. 
 
 There is a tear for all that die, 
 
 A mourner o'er the humblest grave ; 
 
 But nations swell the funeral cry, 
 
 And Triumph weeps above the brave. 
 
 For them is Sorrow's purest sigh 
 O'er Ocean's heaving bosom sent : 
 
 In vain their bones un buried lie, 
 All earth becomes their monument ! 
 
 A tomb is theirs on every page, 
 An epitaph on every tongue : 
 
 The present hours, the future age, 
 For them bewail, to them belong. 
 
264 POEMS. 
 
 For them the voice of festal mirth 
 
 Grows hushed, their name the only sound; 
 
 While deep Remembrance pours to Worth 
 The goblet's tributary round. 
 
 A theme to crowds that knew them not, 
 
 Lamented by admiring foes, 
 Who would not share their glorious lot ? 
 
 Who would not die the death they chose ? 
 
 And, gallant Parker ! thus enshrined 
 Thy life, thy fall, thy fame shall be ; 
 
 And early valour, glowing, find 
 A model in thy memory. 
 
 But there are breasts that bleed with thee 
 In woe, that glory cannot quell ; 
 
 And shuddering hear of victory, 
 
 Where one so dear, so dauntless, fell. 
 
POEMS. 265 
 
 Where shall they turn to mourn thee less ? 
 
 When cease to hear thy cherished name ? 
 Time cannot teach forgetfulness, 
 
 While Grief's full heart is fed by Fame. 
 
 Alas ! for them, though not for thee, 
 
 They cannot choose but weep the more ; 
 
 Deep for the dead the grief must be 
 Who ne'er gave cause to mourn before. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 Amongst an enslaved people, obliged to have recourse 
 to foreign presses even for their books of religion, it is 
 less to be wondered at that we find so few publications 
 on general subjects than that we find any at all. The 
 whole number of the Greeks, scattered up and down the 
 Turkish empire and elsewhere, may amount, at most, to 
 three millions ; and yet, for so scanty a number, it is im- 
 possible to discover any nation with so great a proportion 
 of books and their authors, as the Greeks of the present 
 century. " Ay," but say the generous advocates of op- 
 pression, who, while they assert the ignorance of the 
 Greeks, wish to prevent them from dispelling it, " ay, 
 but these are mostly, if not all, ecclesiastical tracts, and 
 consequently good for nothing." Well ! and pray what 
 else can they write about r It is pleasant enough to hear 
 a Frank, particularly an Englishman, who may abuse the 
 government of his own country; or a Frenchman, who 
 may abuse every government except his own, and who 
 may range at will over every philosophical, religious, 
 
210 APPENDIX. 
 
 scientific, sceptical, or moral subject, sneering at the 
 Greek legends. A Greek must not write on politics, and 
 cannot touch on science for want of instruction ; if he 
 doubts, he is excommunicated and damned ; therefore his 
 countrymen are not poisoned with modern philosophy : 
 and as to morals, thanks to the Turks ! there are no such 
 things. What then is left him, if he has a turn for scrib- 
 bling ? Religion and holy biography : and it is natural 
 enough that those who have so little in this life should look 
 to the next. It is no great wonder then that in a catalogue 
 now before me of fifty-five Greek writers, many of whom 
 were lately living, not above fifteen should have touched 
 on any thing but religion. The catalogue alluded to is 
 contained in the twenty-sixth chapter of the fourth volume 
 of Meletius's Ecclesiastical History. From this I subjoin 
 an extract of those who have written on general subjects ; 
 which will be followed by some specimens of the Romaic. 
 
 LIST OF ROMAIC AUTHORS*. 
 
 Neophitus, Diakonos (the deacon) of the Morea, has 
 
 * It is to be observed that the names given are not in 
 chronological order, but consist of some selected at a venture 
 from amongst those who flourished from the taking of Con- 
 stantinople to the time of Meletius, 
 
APPENDIX. 271 
 
 published an extensive grammar, and also some poli- 
 tical regulations, which last were left unfinished at his 
 death. 
 
 Prokopius, of Moscopolis (a town in Epirus), has writ- 
 ten and published a catalogue of the learned Greeks. 
 
 Seraphin, of Periclea, is the author of many works in 
 the Turkish language, but Greek character ; for the Chris- 
 tians of Caramania who do not speak Romaic, but read 
 the character. 
 
 Eustathius Psalidas, of Bucharest, a physician, made 
 the tour of England for the purpose of study ("x&piv paQy- 
 ffsws) : but though his name is enumerated, it is not stated 
 that he has written any thing. 
 
 Kallinikus Torgeraus, Patriarch of Constantinople; 
 many poems of his are extant, and also prose tracts, and 
 a catalogue of patriarchs since the last taking of Constan- 
 tinople. 
 
 Anastasius Macedon, of Naxos, member- of the royal 
 academy of Warsaw. A church biographer. 
 
 Demetrius Pamperes, a Moscopolite, has written many 
 
272 APPENDIX. 
 
 works, particularly " A Commentary on Hesiod's Shield 
 of Hercules," and two hundred tales (of what, is not spe- 
 cified), and has published his correspondence with the 
 celebrated George of Trebizond, his cotemporary. 
 
 Meletius, a celebrated geographer; and author of the 
 book from whence these notices are taken. 
 
 Dorotheus, of Mitylene, an Aristotelian philosopher: 
 his Hellenic works are in great repute, and he is esteemed 
 by the moderns (I quote the words of Meletius) peta, toy 
 ©8Kv$l8yv xa.) > Esvo<pujvla. a^iros 'E^^vouv. I add further, 
 on the authority of a well-informed Greek, that he was so 
 famous amongst his countrymen, that they were accustom- 
 ed to say, if Thucydides and Xenophon were wanting he 
 was capable of repairing the loss. 
 
 Marinus Count Tharboures, of Cephalonia, professor 
 of chemistry in the academy of Padua, and member of 
 that academy, and of those of Stockholm and Upsal. He 
 has published, at Venice, an account of some marine ani- 
 mal, and a treatise on the properties of iron. 
 
 Marcus, brother to the former, famous in mechanics. 
 He removed to St. Petersburg the immense rock on 
 
APPENDIX. 273 
 
 which the statue of Peter the Great was fixed in 1769. 
 See the dissertation which he published in Paris, 1777. 
 
 George Constantine has published a four-tongued 
 lexicon. 
 
 George Ventote; a lexicon in French, Italian, and 
 Romaic. 
 
 There exist several other dictionaries in Latin and 
 Romaic, French, Sic. besides grammars in every modern 
 language, except English. 
 
 Amongst the living authors the following are most cele- 
 brated* : — 
 
 Athanasius Parios has written a treatise on rhetoric in 
 Hellenic. 
 
 Christodoulos, an Acarnanian, has published, in Vienna, 
 some physical treatises in Hellenic. 
 
 Pauagiotes Kodrikas, an Athenian, the Romaic trans- 
 lator of Fontenelle's u Plurality of Worlds," (a favourite 
 work amongst the Greeks), is stated to be a teacher of 
 
 * These names are not taken from any publication. 
 
274? APPENDIX. 
 
 the Hellenic and Arabic languages in Paris ; in both of 
 which he is an adept. 
 
 Athanasius, the Parian, author of a treatise on 
 rhetoric. 
 
 Vicenzo Damodos, of Cephalonia, has written " ek vo 
 fAS'ToSa-j'Eapov," on logic and physics. 
 
 John Kamarases, a Byzantine, has translated into 
 French Ocellus on the Universe. He is said to be an 
 excellent Hellenist, and Latin scholar. 
 
 Gregorio Demetrius published, in Vienna, a geogra- 
 phical work : he has also translated several Italian authors, 
 and printed his versions at Venice. 
 
 Of Coray and Psalida some account has been already 
 given. 
 
APPENDIX. £75 
 
 GREEK WAR SONG.* 
 
 l. 
 
 AET'TE taffies *uv E'AAijW 
 
 o xeupos T*js Sofas TjXQgv 
 as (pavwpsv dfyoi sxelvuiv 
 
 Ttou [has $w<rav rrjv dgytfv 
 JC$ rfa1-/)<ro[/,£v dvtyelcas 
 
 Tov tyyov rys fvpavvlSos 
 E'>cfo>ajcrcojXsv rfalglSos 
 
 xaQs oveitios cutr^ov. 
 
 Ta, otXa as Aafoi/xsv 
 ntaihs E'AAtj'vwv ayu)[/,sv 
 
 irola[U$cijv s^fyuiv to alpx 
 as f§£%y vifo ifoSuSv. 
 
 O &SV Eitrds Twv E'AAtjVwj' 
 
 xoWaAa dvtigsiopsya 
 itvsvpalx sffnogvurpsva 
 
 twga \d£zh rfvoyv 
 
 * For a translation of this song, see p. 20g. 
 
 T 2 
 
276 APPENDIX. 
 
 Vr'ijj' (pwrjv fys (raXitiyKos /x» 
 
 aruva.'xP^ oka, opov 
 ryjv hrtdXoipov ^rjts7ts 
 
 xa) vLKoLte itpb iravrov. 
 
 Td wtXct, ot$ ko&wpzv, &c. 
 
 3. 
 
 ~Zrfdp?a, ~2,itdpta, ri xoipuz<rQe 
 
 vitvov Xfflccpyov fixQuv 
 %uirvr)<rov xpa,%s A'Qyvas 
 
 (rj^oc^ov rfxvrofeiVTqv 
 f Evdv[x,si8y)rs Asoviftou 
 
 ypwos t'ov gaxorou < 
 
 rou dvfyos kita.ivsp.kvM 
 
 (poSepou xa) rpo[/.ep8. 
 
 Td office. &s A^'fw/xey, &c. 
 
 4. 
 
 O itou sis *ds ®spiW!tv\&s 
 
 TTOAg/AOV avTOS XpOtSl 
 
 xai tov$ TLspffois d<pot,vit,si 
 
 xou ccvtciSv xa,fd xparfsi 
 Msrpiocxo<riovs avfyocs 
 
 el; rb xsvtpov itpi'/UDpsi 
 xu) ws Aiwv Qvpwpsvos 
 
 sis t* dl[M twv fioufs7. 
 
 Td otfAa &s kdttufiBv, &c. 
 
APPENDIX. 277 
 
 ROMAIC EXTRACTS. 
 
 ^Pcucraos^AyxKos, xou TdWos xdpvovres trjv itepirfy^tTiv rfs 'EX- 
 XaSos, xa) fiXsTtovtes rrjv dvXiav ryv xatdra.atv, eipwnj- 
 aav xartapyds ha Tpaixlv (piXsWyva, Sid vd pdQsv *rp 
 alrlav, per' avrov ha prjrpOTfoXlt^v elta ha fihdyjx'tfewi 
 eifeita ha Tfpa.ypa.TsvT'^v xa) ha. itpoBS'wta.. 
 
 EZtTe pas u> QiXeWyva Tfws <pepeis rfv o-xXaSlxv 
 xai tyjv difxplyopytov ?rp> Tovpxwv tupxvvlay 
 tfujg ra~s %vXats xa) u'Spiay.as xa) arj^rjpohaplav 
 ifal^MV, Ttapftevw, yuvaixwv dvyxovs~ov (pQopelxv 
 Aiv elaSxi eaels xifoyovoi exeivwv twv 'Ekx-^vmv 
 ruiv eXevQepwv xa) ao<pwv xx) twv <p~i'h<rtXT'p\<$wv 
 xxi ifuJs exelvoi direSvrjaxov yid rijv etevSepiav 
 xa.) fwox easts vrfovxeiaQxi e); reroixv fvpavvluv 
 ■xa) ifotov yevos u>S eaeis eard^rj fMTiapevov ' , 
 els TrjV ao<p\xv, ovvxpr/v, els x' oXa ^axoyapevov 
 if uis yvv exctrao"fya , a.fe rfv tpwfivyv 'EAXai3a 
 /3a?a ! wj ha. o~xe\eQpov, ws ffxoreivrp Xxpixo'xv 
 'OpAet <plx?are Tpaixe e'nfe pas frjv ahlav 
 ftij xguifrrjs fltfotys "^ft-wy, Ao'e tyv dtioplav. 
 
278 APPENDIX. 
 
 'O $IAE'AAHNOS. 
 
 'PooTtr-atyxXo-yoLMot, 'EXXds, xa\ o%t a\\ot, 
 
 yjrov, cv$ XstSf Tocrov [AsydXyj, 
 
 vvv 8s aQxloc, xa\ dvafcla, 
 
 d<p' fs apyyvsv ij a'jt^aWa. 
 
 <xtt' rj^itOfiHo-av vd rv t v Xjjitvrfi-q 
 
 tout sis t ( > X^P 0V r 'O v o^ystrt 
 
 avTrj fzvd^zi Td Tsxva xpdgsi, 
 
 S~6 va, itpoxoitTovv oKa itpor-aX^i 
 
 xa) tots sXirl^si on xep$lgei.\ 
 
 SVpslv, OTtOO '"/SI vuv Tyv <p~A0y\"C,S\, 
 
 Ma* oris ToX[i,yjo"fj va, Tyv fyiitvrpri 
 Ttaysi rov dh t v pff&pis Tiva, xp'urw. 
 
 The above is the commencement of a long dramatic satire 
 on the Greek priesthood, princes, and gentry; it is contemp- 
 tible as a composition, but perhaps curious as a specimen of 
 their rhyme ; 1 have the whole in MS. but this extract will 
 be found sufficient. The Romaic in this composition is so 
 easy as to render a version an insult to a scholar; but those 
 who do not understand the original will excuse the following 
 bad translation of what is in itself indifferent. 
 
APPENDIX. 279 
 
 TRANSLATION. 
 
 A Russian, Englishman, and Frenchman making the 
 tour of Greece, and observing the miserable state of 
 the country, interrogate, in turn, a Greek Patriot, to 
 learn the cause; afterwards an Archbishop, then a 
 Vlackbey*, a Merchant; and Cogia Bachi or Primate. 
 
 Thou friend of thy country! to strangers record 
 
 Why bear ye the yoke of the Ottoman Lord ? 
 
 Why bear ye these fetters thus tamely display'd, 
 
 The wrongs of the matron, the stripling, and maid ? 
 
 The descendants of Hellas's race are not ye! 
 
 The patriot sons of the sage and the free, 
 
 Thus sprung from the blood of the noble and brave, 
 
 To vilely exist as the Mussulman slave ! 
 
 Not such were the fathers your annals can boast, 
 
 Who conquer'd and died for the freedom you lost ! 
 
 Not such was your land in her earlier hour, 
 
 The daj-star of nations in wisdom and power ! 
 
 And still will you thus unresisting increase, 
 
 Oh shameful dishonour ! the darkness of Greece ? 
 
 Then tell us, beloved Achasan ! reveal 
 
 The cause of the woes which you cannot conceal. 
 
 * Vlackbey, Prince of Wallachia. 
 
230 APPENDIX. 
 
 The reply of the Philellenist I have not translated, as it is 
 no better than the question of the travelling triumvirate ; 
 and the above will sufficiently show with what kind of com- 
 position the Greeks are now satisfied. I trust I have not 
 much injured the original in the few lines given as faithfully, 
 and as near the " Oh, Miss Bailey! unfortunate Miss Bailey !" 
 measure of the Romaic, as I could make them. Almost all 
 their pieces, above a song, which aspire to the name of 
 poetry, contain exactly the quantity of feet of 
 
 " A captain bold of Halifax who liv'd in country quarters," 
 
 which is in fact the present heroic couplet of the Romaic. 
 
 SCENE FROM 'O KA$ENE2. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE ITALIAN OF GOLDONI BY 
 SPERIDION VLANTI, 
 
 2KHNH Kr\ 
 
 IIAATZIAA zi$ rrjy tfoptav ts ^avts, x<x) oi avuiQsv. 
 
 IIAA. £2 ©£e ! dito to rfapxQvpi ps spocvv] va, riK8<rtv ryv 
 <pwriv rs oivSpoa //,«• m avtos elvcci l£w, l<p$xcra. <rs xaipov vd rov 
 
APPENDIX. 281 
 
 fyvrpoifido'uj. [Evyalvet has SsXtg dito ro apyas~ypi.~] UaXi- 
 xdpi, itss [is trs ita.ptxxa.Xoj itotos sivai bkeIeIs hxelvss rss ovfdSssi 
 
 AOTA. Tpe~s %pifif&ot avSpss. E y vas 6 uvp Evysvios, 6 aX- 
 Xog o xup Mdprios Na.itoXita.vos, xdi 6 rplros 6 Kvp Kovrs Kka.v- 
 dgof 'ApSsvfyjs. 
 
 IIAA. (' Avdpetra, els auVaf §ev elvou o $Xaplvio$, dv opwg 
 dev uXXafev ovopa. ) 
 
 AEA. Na !$ ij xaX-rj -rup^ij rS xvp Evysvla. [TLlvojvras .] 
 
 OAOI. Na ?f , va. j$. 
 
 IIAA. (Avros elvai 6 dvftpas /xs %fffp)s aXXo.) KaAs dv- 
 Qpwite xd^s /X8 rrjv yapw vd jxs o-vvrpotpevcrrjs ditavoj els avtss 
 rss d<psvtd§£$, hits SsXoj vd T&S italfcoj \tJ\av. \Rpos rov SsXov.'] 
 
 AOT. 'Opitry.og <ras' ((rvvrfiitrpevov o<p<plxiov roiv SaXsufwv.) 
 [Tr)v l/xtfa£e/ dito to epyas-ypi rS itaiyviSiS. 
 
 PIA. Kapha, Kapha, xdpere xaXrjv xaphdv, §ev elvct-t rl- 
 itores- \Jlpo$ fyv Birropiav.'] 
 
 BIT. 'Eyoj altrQdvopai itcos ditsda'voj. ['Evvspxerai els rov 
 havrov rrjs.J 
 
 'Aito rd itagdQvga rojv ovr 'Iojv tpalvovfai 0X01, cits 
 ffrjxovujvrai dito ro rpaitefy a-vy^ia-jxevoi, did rov 
 Zatpvurpov rS AsdvSps fiXeitiovras rrjv UXartySa, 
 xa.) Star) auVoj Sel^vei itwg SeXei vd rr)v poyey«n?.] 
 
 EYI\ 0%/, ra9;jre. 
 
 MAP. Mrjv xdpvers. . . 
 
 AEA. .2/>ca;, <pvye dit' IJcw. 
 
 IIAA. BorjQsia, fiorjQsia. [Qsuyei dito ■rtjv axaXav, Aeav- 
 Spas SzXei vd rrjv dxoXsfyo-y \u. ro <ritaQ), xa) Euy. rov /3ara.] 
 
 TPA. [Me ha, itidro [x.i tpayi els filav iterXera, itYjSd dito ro 
 itapaUpi, xa,\ tpevyei els Toy xatpeve.~\ 
 
2S2 APPENDIX. 
 
 IIAA. [Euyocivsi aVo to spyurygt ts tfaiyviSiB tpzyjxvtag, 
 not) <psuysi elg to %av/.] 
 
 EYI\ [Ms ap^atx si's to ykpi itpbg Siatpavtevtriv tr t g IlAa- 
 tgiSxg, Ivavtlov tS Asdvtips, hits tvjv xa.tatgsysi.'] 
 
 MAP. [Evyalvei xa) avtbg <riyd a-iyd ortb to spyar^i, xcd 
 (psvyei Xsyouvtag ."] Rumores fuge. ^Fs^opsg <psys.~\* 
 
 Ol AsXoi. ['Atfo to spyarypi drfepvsv sis ?b %dvi, kou xXeisv 
 tfy tfoptav.'] 
 
 BIT. [Msvei e\$ tbv xa,<psvs /SoijQijjuJvtj dirb tbv 'VtSoXtpov.'] 
 
 AEA. Aocrste toifov' SsXw vd 'iy&u: vd epfcu si; ikzivo to 
 ydvi. [Mi to enfant elg to yspi Ivavtlov tS Evysvls.'] 
 
 ETr. "Oyj, jbLij yevoito itotk' el<rai svocg (rXypoxctpSog svocvtlov 
 ty}$ yuvauog o*s, xou lyu> §k\si t\v Siatpevtsvaru} u>g el$ to vsspov 
 
 AEA. 2a xapLvcv opxov itwg SsKsi to petccvoicuo-rig. [Kivyyd 
 tbv Euyiviov ps to ciraQl.'] 
 
 ETT. Aiv <re (po^s^ou. [Katatpsyei tbv Aaav^pov, xoci tbv 
 fiid&i vd o-vpOy oiri<ruj to<rov, tits £v 'pl<rxwvtas olvotxtov to <rityjti 
 tys yopsutpiccg, s^Salvsi slg avtb, xdi vwvetai. 
 
 * Aoyog Xativixog, oitS SsXei vd eliry tptvye tedg <rvyxi<rzg. 
 
APPENDIX. 283 
 
 TRANSLATION. 
 
 Platzida from the Door of the Hotel, and the Others. 
 
 Pla. Oh God ! from the window it seemed that I 
 heard my husband's voice. If he is here, I have arrived 
 in time to make him ashamed. [A Servant enters from 
 the Shop.] Boy, tell me, pray, who are in those cham- 
 bers ? 
 
 Serv. Three Gentlemen : one, Signor Eugenio; the 
 other Signor Martio, the Neapolitan ; and the third, my 
 Lord, the Count Leander Ardenti. 
 
 Pla. Flaminio is not amongst these, unless he has 
 changed his name. 
 
 Leander. [Within dri?iking.] ■ Long live the good 
 fortune of Signor Eugenio ! ■ 
 
 [The whole Company, Long live, &c] (Literally, 
 Na %y, vd tf, May he live.) 
 
 Pla. Without doubt that is my husband. [To the 
 Serv.~\ My good man, do me the favour to accompany 
 me above to those Gentlemen : I have some business. 
 
 Serv. At your commands. [Aside.] The old office of 
 us waiters. [He goes out of the Gaming-House.~] 
 
 Ridolpho. [To Victoria on another part of the 
 
284 APPENDIX. 
 
 stage.} Courage, Courage, be of good cheer, it is 
 nothing. 
 
 Victoria. I feel as if about to die. [Leaning on him 
 as if fainting.'] 
 
 [From the windows above all within are seen rising 
 from table in confusion : Leander starts at the 
 sight of Platzida, and appears by his gestures 
 to threaten her life.] 
 
 Eugenio. No, stop 
 
 Martio. Don't attempt 
 
 Leander. Away, fly from hence ! 
 Pla. Help ! Help ! [ Flies down the Stairs, Leander 
 attempting to follow with his sword, Eugenio hinders 
 him.] 
 
 [Trappola with a plate of meat leaps over the balcony 
 from the window, and runs into the Coffee-House.] 
 
 [Platzida runs out of the Gaming-House, and takes 
 shelter in the Hotel.] 
 
 [Martio steals softly out of the Gaming-House, and 
 goes off exclaiming, " Rumores fuge." The Serva?its 
 from the Gaming-House enter the Hotel, and shut the 
 door.] * 
 
 [Victoria remains in the Coffee-House assisted by Ri- 
 dolpho.] 
 
 [Leander sword in hand opposite Eugenio exclaims, 
 Give way — 1 will enter that hotel.] 
 
APPENDIX. 286 
 
 Eugenic No, that shall never be. You are a scoun- 
 drel to your wife, and I will defend her to the last drop 
 of my blood. 
 
 Leander. I will give you cause to repent this. [Me 
 nacing with his sword.~] 
 
 Eugenio. I fear you not. [He attacks Leander and 
 makes him give back so much that finding the door of the. 
 dancing girl's house open, Leander escapes through, and 
 so finishes.] * 
 
 * l.iuvzla.1 — " finishes" — awkwardly enough, but it is the 
 literal translation of the Romaic. The original of this comedy 
 of Goldoni's I never read, but it does not appear one of his 
 best. " Vr Bugiardo" is one of the most lively ; but I do not 
 think it has been translated into Romaic : it is much more 
 amusing than our own " Liar," by Foote. The character 
 of Lelio is better dravvn than Young Wilding. Goldoni's 
 comedies amount to fifty ; some perhaps the best in Europe, 
 and others the worst. His life is also one of the best speci- 
 mens of autobiography, and, as Gibbon has observed, " more 
 dramatic than any of his plays." The above scene was select- 
 ed as containing some of the most familiar Romaic idioms, 
 not for any wit which it displays, since there is more done 
 than said, the greater part consisting of stage directions. 
 The original is one of the few comedies by Goldoni which is 
 without the buffoonery of the speaking Harlequin. 
 
286 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 AIA'AOrOI O'JKIAKOI. FAMILIAR DIALOGUES. 
 
 Ala va £n7>ic>!j vm 7rp«yf/ft. 
 
 To ask for any thing. 
 
 2a; wapajcaXw, £6<7s?e' fxt av £fi£Vh. 
 
 <I>£p£lE |U,E. 
 
 Aavsio-t?? jUf. 
 
 XlrjyaUsle va ^itjiVeIe. 
 
 TcJpa tv9vs» 
 
 fi? aicptffs' fxa Kupif, xrefy»7f' fJLi at/1?,v 
 
 riv x a 'f 1V- 
 Eyco caj TrapaxaXtu. 
 E'yu) craf ttjopxi^u:. 
 E'ycu <raj to ^Vltu Jla }(apiv. 
 
 YVoXpElUJ-slE |WE EtJ TOffOV. 
 
 I pray you, give me if you please. 
 
 Bring me. 
 
 Lend me. 
 
 Go to seek. 
 
 Now directly. 
 
 My dear Sir, do me bis favor r. 
 
 I entreat you. 
 
 I conjure you. 
 
 I ask it of you as a favour. 
 
 Oblige me so much. 
 
 Aeyitt Igw/JlXfJ, n ayWKns. 
 
 Affectionate expressions. 
 
 A'xpt&i (Mi ■i'Vyri- 
 Afyannii fji.u, a'xp 16s (/.a. 
 KafSfl^a ff.a. 
 A yuirn joib. 
 
 My life. 
 My dear soul. 
 My dear. 
 My heart. 
 My love. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 287 
 
 Aio v« v IwyaWrflOfft va xaf*>jf tteoi- To tlmiik, pay compliments, and testify 
 ■noli?;;, xs» <p(Xix«iV $i%'mit(;. regard. 
 
 Xaj yvwfi^u X'»r' v • 
 
 Sa; £i)jia» uTro^ffo; x«?a itoWa. 
 
 E'yuJ S'sXtti to xa/ji£i fxsla yafag. 
 
 Ms o\nv i*u Triv xapiiav. 
 
 Me xaXr^v /*» xagiirev. 
 
 2a; Effxal uTTo^sof. 
 
 ETfA«» oXo; I^ixo; caj. 
 
 ETfiat JbXoj crag. 
 
 Tan itvolalo; £bXoj. 
 
 EiV e x«7os flroXXa Ivysvtxoj. 
 
 IloXXa vupafytjQt. 
 
 To evu) £ta X. a f" v f* a Va <rB f ^ a ' vt ' JC ' lU • 
 
 Efj-s Euysvixo; xal lt/7rB30"7iyooo;. 
 
 A'y?o siva: wgEffov. 
 
 Ti 3'tKtlt j t! esi^flt j 
 
 2aj wagaxaXiu vo? /we fMlayji^saSi 
 
 tXevQtga. 
 Xu>Ff; •Kipnrowcig. 
 Zaf a^awi I|; oXij (X» xctg^iaj. 
 Kai ?yu zjj.o'hu;. 
 
 Tifjt.fi<Jth fJil Tcac. wgor«y«Mff c«f • 
 T?yjli titto7ej va fXE itgar&i-tle , 
 Tloofa^ili tov JaXov caj. 
 n§offju.£Vcu Taj 7Tgoi7ay<i; <7»f. 
 Me xa.^.nlt (Ji.<ya,Mv 7*f*?y. 
 
 I thank you. 
 
 I return you thanks. 
 
 I am much obliged to you. 
 
 I will do it with pleasure. 
 
 With all my heart. 
 
 Most cordially. 
 
 I am obliged to you. 
 
 I am wholly yours. 
 
 I am your servant. 
 
 Your most humble servant. 
 
 You are too obliging. 
 
 You take too much trouble. 
 
 I have a pleasure in serving you. 
 
 Ycu are obliging and kind. 
 
 That is right. 
 
 What is your pleasure? What are 
 
 your commands ? 
 I beg you will treat me freely. 
 
 TV ithout ceremony. 
 
 I love you with all my heart. 
 
 And I the same. 
 
 Honour me with your commands. 
 
 Have you any commands for me ? 
 
 Command your servant. 
 
 I wait your commands. 
 
 You do me great honour. 
 
288 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Q&awv n nipi'nolrKTLg crag ita.oa.%tChui. 
 Jlgomvvncrtlz Ixjutigaj jxu t»v doyjrfia, n 
 
 TOV JC'JftOV. 
 BeS*IcJo-e7e' TOV 7TWJ TOV hd'JjJLBfJial. 
 
 BiScttaffdi T«V 7Uuf tov ct.ya.rM, 
 
 AEV 3"eXu> XEIlf-lt V« TH TO HttW. 
 
 TlpocKvyniAttlo' ei? t^v ufyoylicraat, 
 IIiyatV^E IfjntfQcrQa, %a\ crag axoXxdw. 
 H'f Et/piu xaXffi to XP*°? r '" 
 tC^iVPui to sFvai |U». 
 Me xapyth lu, hlfi'Kvi^.a.i jul Tar? 
 
 Too-at; <fwXO!pgoo-c/vaif caj. 
 ©e'Xe7e Xoiwov vre xosjiacu ^ti'av u.yjii'%- 
 
 hla; 
 Tf'Traytu l^iipacrBa, Std va ff«j vvaxxcrui. 
 Aid vti Mafxcu t^v wporwy^v c«f. 
 Aev aycvnui Tocruig •xipnrowcrEg* 
 
 AEV tTfAai TEXEllUf 7TEO»WOi>j7»XOf. 
 
 A'J7o sTraf to xaXMEgov. 
 Too-oy to xaXilEoor. 
 E"%s7s Xoyov "x j ^ 5 i'ftt'ov. 
 
 Not so much ceremony I beg. 
 
 Present my respects to the gentle- 
 man, or his lordship. 
 
 Assure him of my remembrance. 
 
 Assure him of my friendship. 
 
 I will not fail to tell him of it. 
 
 My compliments to her ladyship. 
 
 Go before, and I will follow you. 
 
 I well know my duty. 
 
 I know my situation. 
 
 You confound me with so much ci- 
 vility. 
 
 Would you have me then be guilty 
 of an incivility ? 
 
 I go before to obey you. 
 
 To comply with your command. 
 
 I do not like so much ceremony. 
 
 I am not at all ceremonious. 
 
 This is better. 
 
 So much the better. 
 
 You are in the right. 
 
 A<ra Vctf p&cMvcriig, Va, apyrfing, va crvy- 
 naluuvarigf xui t|> 
 
 To affirm, deny, consent, djt 
 
 ETvat «Xt]0ivo», iTyat aXtrfiig-aloy. 
 
 Aia veJ crag e!Vw tw aAii0£iay. 
 
 0\7iuj, 17£>i shai. 
 
 Hoiog &fJ.yi€a,'Khti ', 
 
 Aev eTvoh Kocrwg »|Uipibo?.fa. 
 
 To TUg-Wvi, $h 79 WtJ- (VIII. 
 
 "It is true, it is very true. 
 To tell you the truth. 
 Really, it is so. 
 Who doubts it ? 
 There is no doubt. 
 I believe it, I do not believe it. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 28g 
 
 As'yw to la\. 
 
 Aiym to oyj, 
 
 EaXXui 5"'X''l^ a W* £(VOSi. 
 
 BaXXw g-ly*ijj<.a, oil Jev avat flyi. 
 
 Nai, jaa Triv wtV'V fjt». 
 
 Eif T»i» (TKVElS>l<7lV fAB. 
 
 Mo* TW £cu>jV fJ.a. 
 
 NaJ, s-»f ojoivvw. 
 
 2aj o/uvutu aJyoiv T«f*»)jw.syoj avSpuwof. 
 
 2a; ofxvjui Inayui d; rhv iipni fjw. 
 
 TliS-svo'tli y.i. 
 
 H'jUiropw vet co; To /3sba(cu<7iu. 
 
 Ji" •S'sXa |3aX*j j-i^^a o,7i Stalls XieJ 
 
 T«7o. 
 Mri tux,? " a ' a^si^to-Qt (yopiiltvels) J 
 0'/xiXt(7i fX£ to? oXa craf j 
 E'yii era; of/iiXui (*£ Tci o'Xa ^itf, xai 
 
 c-aj Xlyui w aX^Eiav. 
 E'yiu a-aj to jSsbaiwvw. 
 To iTpoftflevcrsle, 
 To IwAriyJls* 
 
 Hp£7T£i Vtt <TOJ ff<J-£U<7W. 
 
 Aolo £ev eTvcsj a£i/va.7ov. 
 
 To Xojwov «f £ivrat fA£ xaX»iv tu'pav. 
 
 KaXaJ, xosXcs. 
 
 AeV £iVa( a.X>)(5iVoV. 
 
 ETvat i^ji/Sej. 
 
 Aev tlvai riitoh; alio aula. 
 
 ETvot £»» 4.£u5oj ^iia amain* 
 
 E^ui* B.fii'|ofXHV (I^op^fvo.) 
 
 E'yiu to tlVa Ji« v«* yjXiew. 
 
 I say yes. 
 
 I say no. 
 
 I wager it is. 
 
 I wager it is not so. 
 
 Yes, by my faith. 
 
 In conscience. 
 
 By my life. 
 
 Yes, I swear il to you. 
 
 I swear to you as an honest man. 
 
 I swear to you on my honour. 
 
 Believe me. 
 
 I can assure you of it. 
 
 I would lay what bet you please on 
 
 this. 
 Your jest by chance ? 
 Do you speak seriously ? 
 I speak seriously to you, and tell 
 
 you the truth. 
 I assure you of it. 
 You have guessed it. 
 You have hit upon it. 
 I believe you. 
 I must believe you. 
 This is not impossible. 
 Then it is very well. 
 Well, well. 
 It is not true. 
 It is false. 
 
 There is nothing of this. 
 It is a falsehood, an imposture. 
 I was in joke. 
 I said it to laugh. 
 
 U 
 
290 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Ms »ps'<7£( void TtoKka* 
 "Zuyxalavivui i'j th?o. 
 
 AeV av1i?txofjMi tig tk7o. 
 
 E'yu) Jev •S'tXtu. 
 
 E'yu! lyav7«iuvo|ixat eij tb7o. 
 
 Indeed. 
 
 It pleases me much. 
 
 I agree with you. 
 
 I give my assent. 
 
 I do not oppose this. 
 
 I agree. 
 
 I will not. 
 
 I object to this. 
 
 Ala ya <7vi/M>shivQng, va ^oyctijS'n;, $ 
 yd atoipaaia-ti;. 
 
 To consult, consider, or resolve. 
 
 Tl ItflllU Vcl XttfAWfAtV ; 
 
 11 Sra JtO'jUUijM.jv; 
 
 Ti (W£ miyi&iKiy tit va Jta//w ; 
 
 OVoiov Tpowov _ S'c'Xo^ev fj.ilayjtfi(jQ 
 
 A*V xajJLwfJitv tl^n- 
 
 Esvat 5caAt7sgoy lyu? yo? 
 
 2la9r{le oXiyoy. 
 
 Ah nSt'ktv sTvai xa?u7£goy v« — —J 
 
 E'yuJ uya.'uula Hahili^a. 
 
 Qthilt xaf>t£t 5taXi7fga tty " ' 
 
 A tyntrtlt (ai. 
 
 A*v »IjwsfV mj tov ToTTSVcraj £yw— — 
 
 Ervai To I'&oy. 
 
 What ought we to do ? 
 What shall we do ? 
 What do you advise me to do ? 
 What part shall we take ? 
 
 Let us do this. 
 
 It is better that I 
 
 Wait a little. 
 
 Would it not be better that— — 
 
 I wish it were better. 
 
 You will do better i f 
 
 Let me go. 
 
 If I were in your place, I 
 
 It is the same. 
 
APPENDIX, 
 
 291 
 
 The reader by the specimens below will be enabled to com- 
 pare the modem with the ancient tongue. 
 
 PARALLEL PASSAGES FROM ST. JOHN'S GOSPEL. 
 
 K;faX. a. 
 
 1. EIS ttiv acyhv S7ev o Xoyoj* xai 5 
 Xoyoj rflot |ue7k QeS' xal ©isj 57ov o 
 Xoyoj. 
 
 2. Eloulo; nloy bj tw agX' lv f*^* 
 ©£ay« 
 
 3. O Xa [«£ irxiy(jMla,~\ hd (jl'ktu 
 toO [Xoya] iyivixav, xal ^uipip at/?oy 
 &V "yiV£ xavtya sitj Jyivt. 
 
 4. Et; ai>7oy nloy %u.<n' xcu r, %u.h nloy 
 to $>5j Twy «v9p«7rwv. 
 
 5. Kal to feu; ei; ttjv cuoltiay tpiyyt*, 
 mi ^ awliio. Ih to xa7«Xa€f. 
 
 6. E yiyty Vvag avSjwwoj aTrtfaX^/yo; 
 «"o Toy ©tjy, to 8>3,u« n 'iwayyijj. 
 
 Au9sy7»xov. 
 
 KspaX. a. 
 
 1. EN »£%*? »!» o Xoyoj, xal 6 Xoyo; 
 tJv ttpoj tov ©£ov> x«l ©£o; hi o Xoyoj. 
 
 2. Ou?05 ?v ly agx'' *§'£ 7 ' v © E ^y. 
 
 3. Xlayta $* avIS iytyzlo' it •%<"& 
 aula lyiydo ouiz h> o yiyoyty. 
 
 4. 'Ey av7w £cu^ i?y, xal h Q»m %i tJ 
 
 ipiu; Twy av9g«J7Ti»y. 
 
 5. Kal to (piC$ ly Trf <7Xo?ia (paiyti, it 
 n molia, au'lo s xa7iXa&y. 
 
 6. 'Ey;yi7o av^guwoj a ifa'Ky.iyo; 
 vaoa ®(S, oys/xa eJ7*» 'lw«yv>i;« 
 
 U 2 
 
292 APPENDIX. 
 
 THE INSCRIPTIONS AT ORCHOMENUS FROM 
 MELETIUS. 
 
 'OPXOMENO'2, HOivuJg ^xpntov, TloXig tfo-rg irXovciuToiTij 
 xoci Iff^vpujratrj, itpoT&pov xaXapavy) Boiwrixa) 'AflijVaj, slg t\v 
 CKolocv ytov 6 Naoj r«V Xaplruiv, el$ rbv oitolov kifXyjgwvov rsXq 
 o* OaGouoi, outivos ro eSoupog oivsa-adf^s ntoTs vitb twv 'Atrtfa- 
 Xd.yx.wv. 'Etfa,V7)yvpiZ,ov si; avTyv r>jv IIo'Ajv td Xa.piTTjtria, rs 
 Otfoia 'Ayujy&g svpov £rfiypa<pd$ iv s"t)Xai$ svSov tS xri<rQsvro$ 
 Nas lit' GvdpaTi Tys QeoroKS, oVo tS ngwroo-TtaQapls Aiovroj-, 
 iir) rwv BaaXsuv BatriXels, Akovrog, ace) Kwvs'a.vTivs, tysras 
 
 HtiUg. 'Ev [X,SV fy MO, KQIVWS. 
 
 " OtSe £vlx.u)V rbv »yuvx Tujv y^apifrjo-'toav. 
 
 " Sectoring. 
 " Mrjvtg 'AiroXXcovis 'Avrio^suV »itb Mxidvtipa* 
 
 " ZwiXos ZioiXs nd<pios* 
 
 " 'PafytvSbs. 
 " Ne/xijvioj Nsy/ijws 'Afyvcuos. ' 
 
 " IIojTjr^V lifwv. \ 
 
 " 'ApyvlcLs AypoxXsss ©TjfaTof. 
 
 " AvXyTTjs 
 ** 'AitoXXofoto; 'AtoXXoUts KpTjV* 
 
 " AvXwSbs 
 *' 'PoSiififos 'PoSfaita Apyrjog. 
 
APPENDIX. 293 
 
 " KtQa,pis"rj; 
 fC $%vla,$ ' AtfoAAoJwVa tS $avls Alo\ev$ dtfo Kupjj. 
 
 " KiQapwSof. 
 " AypyTpios Tlocpasvl<rKa KocXxySovios* 
 
 " Tpaywfid; 
 41 'ItftfOKpaTyg ' Apiro[x,av8$ 'Pohoc. 
 
 " KaWlrpxros 'E^axsru QrjSouog. 
 
 * c HmrfirjS "Zalvpcav, 
 " A'pyvlas Arj^oxXsovg 0>j£a7o^. 7 
 
 " Yrtoxpilrjs. 
 " AwpoQeog AwpoQsov Tapavlivog. 
 
 " TLoitjlrjs Tpxywfoujv. 
 " "ZotpoxXrjs 'ZotpoxXsovg 'A^yjvaTog. * 
 
 " "FtioxpflyS' 
 u KuSlpixps QsoStopoii ®v)£a~0£. 
 
 " A'\s%a,v$po$ A'girwvos »A'9^yiawj. 
 
 <f T'tfoxptlrjs 
 " KrlaXo; A'7faAov 'Affyvaibj. 
 " Oj'Js svlxtuv rbv vr\[iyj1ov dycuvac twy op^vawv. 
 
 " IlaiSa; avXrjs-ds 
 " Aioxhrjs KaAAjpjJou Qrjtaiog. 
 
 " HalSag yys[j.6v(x,$. 
 " "SlpaTtvos EoV/kou ©ij^aToj'. 
 
 " AfvSpxs Av\v)lx$. 
 " AjokAijV KaAAjftoj'Js ©>j£a%. 
 
294 APPENDIX . 
 
 " A!v8pa,s ijys/xoVas'.' 
 " Vofoitifos P'o&Wou A'pyslog 
 
 « Tpayyftf 
 " I'TfrfOKpajYjs A'ptro^svovs P'o'&oj 
 
 " Ka.hkls-pa.fos E'fcaxsrov ©ijfaTof 
 " Ta kitm-Kia. 
 
 " A'\e%av$pof A'pir'twvos A'(hjva,"os. 
 
 EV Je r^ 17epa ScupiKuJs- 
 
 u Mvatrivco apyovfog dyiuvoQsKovfog tov 
 
 " Xapilslriov, svocpioroo Ttdvlw og tv^s £Vixw(ra.v ra 
 
 " l.aMttyxia.g 
 ■ " $l\ivog #<>Jvw A'8dvetog. 
 " Kdpov% 
 " ElpwSas Jiutxpdliog Qsi^siog. 
 
 " UosCldg 
 " MijrW|0 MtjVo/x)? Quxaistig. 
 
 ft P'a^/ocsvSos 
 " Kpalwv HLxlwvos ®sl€sios. 
 
 " Av\siidg 
 " Heptysveig lVpax.tei$a,o Koo^wijvof. 
 
 " Avkazvoos 
 " Aa^vsfog TAaJjcw A'pytog. 
 
APPENDIX. 295 
 
 " KiQapis~d$. 
 " Aapoclpos A'//,aA»co A\oKiv$ dito Movplvas. 
 
 " Tpxyaev$o$ 
 " A'crxXarfioScopos YlovQsdo Tapavlivo;. 
 
 " Kwfx,asv§b$ 
 " NiKorp&lo; QiXos-palw Qsl^sio; 
 
 " Td kifivixeta. Kcua^vSos. 
 " Euap^os H'poSolu} KopcwEvg. 
 
 EV aAAou AlQw. 
 
 " MofJ^oj IToA!;)t£a7ou£ Vaguivvpog Sioyllwvo; dvtystrvi x°i a " 
 ec yslcavlsg vtxdcravhs foovv<rou dvefyxa.v flpy/pvoc upyjvhg 
 " avhiovhs x\to$ afovlo; dXxicrQsvios. 
 
 EV nifou Ai9a;. 
 
 i: Swa^ou a^ovhs, psivog SeiXovQlw, #'f%' , , cu; 
 
 " EvSouXi djweSaUiW <pcvxe7cc 05 aVefooxa dito rd; 
 
 <c aovyypaipuj tfsSx.ruJv TtoXs^dp^oov, xtj ruJv xdlonlduiv, dvskq- 
 iC (j,zvo$ tdg (rovyygapuis td$ xipzvas itdg eutpgovu, xrj QiSfav 
 
 " xr) TtoLcnxXziv xtj rijU-JjU-Ei^O'/ <pwxela.s, xrj SauQ- 
 
 " hXslv kviriSdftcv, xij Sloyvcrov xa<pt<ro$uJtxj yr^uivsios., xdt to 
 
296 APPENDIX. 
 
 " SvvoLpxta apxovios, \hswog dXaXxopsvlco F dpvujv, TfoXvxXeiog 
 " raping drfsStoxs svSwXv a,%y&a.\i,w <pwxsTi difb rdg eovy- 
 ** ypafuJ rb xalaXvtfov xdr rb tyd<pio-pa roo $dpt,uj, dvsX6[Jievog 
 '* rdg o-ovyy§a<pwg rdg xlpsvag rfdp<rui<piXov, xvj su<ppova<pwx£ag. 
 " Kij itdp fawvvtnov xxpuroScupuj yypcuvsx, xtj Xvari$ap.or &x- 
 *' poUXiog ifsSa rwv itoXs^dp'/wv, kyj rouy xahirldouy, 
 
 *in-EHErEt>t>lllOH 
 
 " Kp'xpvlog sv sp^opsvo Swdp^w, ptvbg A'AaAxo/x£)>/co, Iv 
 *' Ss F sXxViy) Msvoilao dp'XsXdoo pstvbg itpdlw. O'poXoyd 
 rt Ey£«;Ay F sXallr), o xtj ry tfoXi sp^opLsvlouv. EVejoN) 
 " x-exopls"*) Ey fwAoj ifdp rrjs tfoXiog rb Sdvsioy dtav xdr rag 
 t( opoXoylag rag rsQltrag Swdp^uj apyovlog^ psivbg SeiXovQliv, 
 <f xij 00/ 6<pei\ely avid) sli ouftsv itdp rdv troXiv, dXX 7 dtk'^} 
 " rtdvlx irsp) itavlbg, xrj dirofaSoavQi ry rtoXi rb s^oylsg rdg 
 " opoXoylag, s\ ]«,£v tfol) fisfaphov yjpovov EufcwAy sir) voplag 
 *' F e?i difzrlapa (3ouso~<n crovv tititvg $ia xallvjg F< xali 
 ie sspotdlvg o-ouv yyvg ^siXl^g dpy\ ruJ %povw 6 sv.avlbg 6 
 " psld Suvap^ov ap%pv]& ip%0[X.£vlv$ xitoypst,ps<rQi} Ss EyfwAox 
 " xaT sviavlbv sxas~ov irdp rbv raplav xij rbv vopuiv dv rale 
 " xavpala rujv rfpo£d.1u>v, j<tj ruJv yjyujv, xt} roSv (Ssuiv, xy ruJv 
 ** XtCKwv, xrj xdriva do-apalosv Slxy rb itXslftog l^s) drfoypd<ps<r9 
 tf ufte itxlova rujv ysypa^svujv Iv ry crovyywpEWi y Sexalig 
 
 te v) to hvvoiuov EyfwAoy 6<psi\si A<£ riZv 
 
 " lo%Oj*£V»a;v dpyovpico rslra.pdx.ovla, Ey&oAu xaX 
 
 " %KO,rw kyiavlbv, xy roxov ipepslw 8pa^x; ....... ra$ p-vaj 
 
APPENDIX. 297 
 
 " kxxrxs Kxlx pe7vx ?ov Krj a[MTpXKlos Irw tqv 
 
 " kpXppsVM Xx) TX £$)$• 
 
 EV aXXoi; Alf)oi$. 
 
 u A'voticbpx c-jvpopov %a7^e." NOKyEE. " KxXXmlov xp- 
 " (pxpiyosy xx) xXXxi." EV oo'fle fu'a E'ttypx<pvi "Sov tony, rj 
 tfvevpx, a $a fye7$ vifoypxtpo^ev, o! rfxXxtoi itpO<rzypx<pw. Ka) 
 
 The following is the prospectus of a translation of 
 Anacharsis into Romaic, by my Romaic master, Mar- 
 marotouri, who wished to publish it in England. 
 
 EIAH V 2I2 TTIIOrPA$IKH . 
 
 Tlpo$ tovg Iv <piXoysve7$ xx) (ptXsXXrjvx;. 
 
 O'SOI s); fitZXtx •rnxvloSxtx £v1pv<puj<nv, yfcsvpav woVov 
 ilvxi to %pifcriu.ov tr}$ 'Iroplocs, Si' xvlrjs yap efcevplcrxslxi rj 
 ■mXkiv \ht\L,a,Y.px)(t\hkvti -arxXxiolrj;, ko) Sewpsvlxi w$ Iv xxlottpw 
 *j9ij, vxpdfas xx) SioiKiljo-eis nyoXXouv xx) Sixtpopwv E'Qywv xau 
 Tsvwv wv ryjv j^vtj'ju-tjv fos<rw<ra?o xx) faxo~w<T£i if 'Ifopixyj Arfyycn; 
 iis xiujvx rov xifxvlx. 
 
298 APPENDIX 
 
 Mix tsloioc EV/srjpj slvai euaVoxlyjlog, xa) sv tavldi 
 ty^i/Upj, tj xpsTltov s\tslv dva.yY.oda.' Sixl) Xoitov ^pslg pdvoi 
 vd tr t v vrspspsQa, ju.^ yjgsvpovhg sis tag dpydg twv JTpo- 
 ydvcov pag, zcroQev "mols xa) ■mujg svpsOyirav s\g tag -asarploag 
 p.ag, els td yjSy), td xalopdoupala xa) tyy Stoixyariv twv; AV 
 Ipwlrjtiopsv teg A'XXoysvslg, ij%evpev vd [xdf Scvcrev o^ipdvov 
 'Iropixug fvjv dpyyv xa) tyv vrpoofov twv mpoydvuv pas, dXXa 
 xa) ToTTOypa<ptxuj$ u,ag osl^vev rag Sscrsig twv UatplSwy pag, 
 xa) olovs) %sipaywyo) yivopevoi ps teg Yswypafixeg twv 
 Illvaxag, pdg Xsyev, sSw slvai al A'Qyvai, sSuj y *2.itdplrj, kxsi 
 al ®vj£ai, totra 5-dhx rj plXix dit'sysi ij pla Witxpxja dito 
 rrjv aXXyv. Telog wxoSdpyjos tyv piav -uroXiv, sxslvog tyy aXXyv 
 xa) t%. Upo<rsh av spwlyjcrwpsv av'legteg pr t E'XXyvag ysipaywyeg 
 pag, izdQsv £rfapaxivyQr)<rav vd h^spsvvrjtrsv dpyag rocroy ■araX- 
 aidg, dvvifordXwg pdg diroxpivovlai ps auleg teg Xoyeg. " Ka- 
 " 6wg o sx IZxvQlag ' Avayaptig, av 8ev htspislpyslo tec 
 " ■®xvsv<pp6crvva sxtiva VLxipala. tyjg 'EXXaSog, dv Ssv sptpo- 
 " petlo I'd dfywpalx, td yQy) xa) teg Nopeg twv ''EXXrjVwv, yQsXs 
 " pslvr\ ^xvOyg xa) to ovopa xa) to impaypa' elw xal o ypshpog 
 11 'la'lpog, av $h spdvQavs td te Vititoxpdleg, Sh iSvvalo vd 
 " vTpoxwpijo"*} s\g tyv t'e/yr t v te. A v v 6 sv yplv 'NopoQslrjg Ssv 
 tc l%slaZ,s td te l.oXwvog, Avxepye, xa) Hirlaxe, dsv iluvalo 
 " vd pv8pi.7i<r?i xa) vd xxXispyrpy ?d yjQr) Tujv O'poysvciuv rs. 
 *' av o V-rjlovp $sv diryvOtZelo tag svQpafciag xa) tsg yapisvlivpig 
 '* ts ArjpoffQsvsg, Ssv svspyScrsv s\g tag tyv^dg tcov dxpoaluv 
 4( ts. Kv 6 Nsog Kvdyapcng, 6 Kvpiog A'€€dg BapftoXo- 
 ** palog $sv dvsylvujtrxs ps (/.syd^rjv sifipov^v xa) cxs^iv teg 
 *' zzXioy syxplhg H.vyypa<pstg tu/v 'EXXtywy, sfcepsvvcvy au'leg 
 
APPENDIX. 299 
 
 " xald fidQog kv) tplaxovla Svio sly, Sh $feAe* s%v<pdvy 
 '* rilrjV ?y\v -msp) 'EXXyjvwv l'ropiav ts, vflig Tie® lyy^ng 
 V rs Nis A'vctx&ptrsujs ttap avis 7ffpotnovoy,dcrQrj, xa) 
 " s\g oXag tag Evpwrfa'ixdg AiaXexhg pe1eyXuJlrlo^8v). , ' Kat 
 tv kv) Xoycy, ol Nsujhpoi, av Ssv sitspvav Sia o§rf/8g tsg 
 Upoyov8g pag, yjdeXav Itrovs Tsspitpspujvlai \ha\a\wg ^XP 1 r ^ 
 vvv. Avid Ssv shai Aoyta IvQso'iacrftsvs 8td to tpiXoysvsg 
 Tpaixs, shai 8s tpiXaXrjQsg TsppavS, og-ig epeldtppacrs tov Neov 
 A'va%a/9(rjy dto tS FaXXtxS slg to Ysp\xav\xov. 
 
 A*v Xontbv xa) yjpe7g ^sXuj^sv vd /xeSi^w/xsv trjg yvwoscug 
 tcuv Xaptfpuiv xalopQcvpdtccv oitS %xap<av ol £au/xaro< sxsivoi 
 Hporfdhpsg ypwy, av sTt^v^w^sv vd pdQovpsv trjv mpdoSoy 
 xa) a,v%rjo~lv tvov slg tag Ts^yag xa) TL'ifirypag xa) slg xdQs 
 aXXo si fog [^aSrjoswg, av s%w[/t.ev isspikpysiav vd yviuplviupev 
 ■sso^sv xalayopsQa, xa) orfolsg Savy.as~sg xa) peyaXsg A*vhpag, 
 si xa) -apoybvsg tj^ujv, cpsv, yps'tg Ssv yvwplZ.opsv, sig xaipov IkS 
 61 A' XXoysve7g Savpd&o-iv aulsg, xa) wg rsalspag •zravloiao'Sv 
 M.aS-rjO'sujg csEovlai, dg ffwdpa^cu^sv ditavlsg vrpoQupcvg s\g 
 trjv 'Efxtiociv tS Sav[/,ao~l2 tils o'vyypd^alog tS Nes AVa- 
 Xdpo-twg. 
 
 'Hfis~g 8V ol vifoysypaupevoi SsXofisv s-xlsXstrst -sxpoSu^cvg 
 tyv Msldppao-iv tS Bigxls y,s tyv xald to Svvalov ypuv xaXrjv 
 <ppd<riv tyg vvv xaQ' y^dg bp^iXlag, xa) kxSovlig tSlo s\g tvtTov, Ss- 
 Xop,sv to xaXXwitWsi j*e tsg Fewypafixsg Ulvocilag /xe ditXag 
 P'ojlAalxdg Xsfcsig syxs^ccpay^svag slg k$ixd[ia,g ypd^ala^ 
 za pos~i$ Meg o\li aXXo Xffoipw xa) dpp,o%ov s\f rrjv 'Ig-oplav. 
 
300 APPENDIX. 
 
 Aov rb <rvyypafifia $a\si ykvsi e)g Tops; SwSexa. xald 
 plfiycriv rr\s 'VJaXixrjs E'xSoosc/js. H' ■rtp) oXs rS Hvyypd[x.[ialos 
 elvai tpiopivia Ssxakfy ryg TSiswys Sid ryjv zppoarQrjKrjV rwv Tsoa- 
 ypapxtZv nrivdxuiv. O' <pi\oy£vrjs sv HvvSpoprflris -Hpstfei va. 
 -usXfipuxrj sis Jta^E To'ptov fioplvi sva xa) Ka.pavla.via. sTxotn rrjs 
 Bisvvrjs, xa) rSh %wpV xa/x/x/av ixpoSoa-iv, aXX* buQus otS &£A« 
 rep virapaSobri 6 To'/xo; rvtw^svos xa) Sspsvo;. 
 
 'Eppooy.svoi xa) evSalpovsg §ta£tu>oi,le 'EWyjvujv Tlcufos. 
 Trjs vptUpas dydirrjs Ifyplypkvoi 
 
 'Iwdvvrjs MappapolfjpyjS. 
 
 Atj^pios Bevispys. 
 l.tfvplSwv Hp^slog. 
 E'f Tpierlw, ry -nrpwlr) O'xlwtpls, 1799. 
 
 THE LORD'S PRAYER IN ROMAIC. 
 
 XX ITATE'PAMAS q tfou iirai s}$ *ov$ epavovs, d$ dyia<rfy 
 rb ovopd as. AV k'xQr) tj jSacjXeia <T8. A*£ yunj ro SsAij/xa 
 C8. Ka0w$ ej; rov spavov, srty) xa) si; ■rtjv y^v. To ^/u}f^l^ag 
 rb xa^Yj^spivov , §6g pas rb cr^spov. Ka) trvy^uipY^s pa; rd 
 yjpkt^as, xaQws xa) hpils trvy/wpov^Bv rov$ xpsoQsiXslus pas. 
 Ka) jxijv pas (pzpsis sis irsipao-fibv, a'AAa kXsvQs pcurspas dirb rbv 
 tfovypov oVj k$ixr]o-8 ehat 17 /3acnA£j'a Ss j §£ve.fti$ xa) tj Sofa 
 sis irovs alujyas* 'Aprjv. 
 
APPENDIX. 301 
 
 IN GREEK. 
 
 IIATEP vj/xwv o h Tot; epowotg, dyicceQtfuj ro ovopd erg, 
 "E'xOsla) rj /3acr<A£i'a <ra m yevrjQrjTu) ro SeAij/xa <rs, w$ h spavui, 
 xa< sir) rvj$ yrjg. Toy aplov ^uv rov kitiao'iov 8o$ y[uv o-ijpepov. 
 Ka) cLips; y[uv rd 6<psi\y)[/.ala yjpujy, w; xa< tj/uchTj- dtpispev ro~$ 
 otpeiXelw; yj[j.wv. Ka« /xtj ^osvkyaris -rj^oi; s)g itsipao-^ov , dXhd 
 pvo-cci yj^ois dito rS KovrjpS. OVi <rS early tj /3aenXe<a, xa) >j' 
 MyatpiSt kou y §o%at sis foy$ alwas. 'ApjV. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 The letter given in the fac simile was signed and 
 sent by the Bey of Corinth, and was written I believe 
 by Notaras the Cogia Bachi, a descendant of the great 
 duke of that family who was put to death soon after 
 the capture of Constantinople. It contains merely an 
 apology on account of some complaints lodged against 
 Nouri Bey (the only complaint I ever had occasion to 
 make against a Moslem) by my friend the Marquis of 
 Sligo and myself with the minister at Pera. I will not 
 affront the learned by decyphering it in a printed copy ; 
 a slight acquaintance with the written character in a 
 couple of perusals will render it very easy. The con- 
 tents merely regarding private business are not worth a 
 
302 APPENDIX. 
 
 translation ; but as a specimen of the manner of writing 
 in a character generally deemed elegant amongst the 
 modern Greeks, the fac simile is annexed to this Ap- 
 pendix. 
 
 The foregoing selections from the Romaic are, of 
 course, offered to the scholar only ; and I trust that the 
 critic will not quarrel with that part which is intended for 
 his sole perusal, and for the faults of which I am not re- 
 sponsible. For the errors in the inscriptions copied from 
 Meletius, the worthy archbishop must be himself respon- 
 sible, but there is a hope that they may yet be rectified; 
 for part of the marbles on which they are inscribed still 
 exist, and were purchased by an English traveller in 1810- 
 It is the opinion of one of the first scholars in this country, 
 that if accurately given, " they might be of great use in 
 explaining the dialect, and consequently restoring the 
 metres of Pindar." 
 
 There can be little difficulty in obtaining a fac simile, 
 but I much regret not having copied, or obtained a copy 
 of the inscription on the spot, which, to the best of my re- 
 collection, was very legible. 
 
 THE EJfD. 
 
T. DAVISON, Lombard-street, 
 Whitefriars, London. 
 

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