{"1": {"fulltext": "^SJK\\\\\\nc f\\nMb\\nm", "height": "3077", "width": "1945", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0001.jp2"}, "2": {"fulltext": "Class 4357\\nBook A.\\nCopyright N?_\\nCOPYRIGHT DEPOSIT.", "height": "2929", "width": "1818", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0002.jp2"}, "3": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2955", "width": "1863", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0003.jp2"}, "4": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2945", "width": "1813", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0004.jp2"}, "5": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2990", "width": "1863", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0005.jp2"}, "6": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2919", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0006.jp2"}, "7": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2975", "width": "1853", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0007.jp2"}, "8": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2950", "width": "1909", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0008.jp2"}, "9": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2975", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0009.jp2"}, "10": {"fulltext": "36129\\nLibrary of Congress\\nTwo Copies Received\\nAUG 18 1900\\nCopj, right entry\\n6lMj,t3//foo\\nFIRST COPY.\\n2nd Copy Delivered to\\nORDER DIVISION\\nUUKL\u00c2\u00a35J900_J\\n0-V\\nv\\nt\u00c2\u00ab\\nCoi VKIOHT, 1900, BY W. B. CONKEY CuMKANV,", "height": "2950", "width": "1909", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0010.jp2"}, "11": {"fulltext": "p\\nPREFACE TO THE FIRST AND SECOND\\nCANTOS.\\nThe following poem was written, for the\\nmost part, amidst the scenes which it attempts\\nto describe. It was begun in Albania; and\\nthe parts relative to Spain and Portugal were\\ncomposed from the author s observations in\\nthose countries. Thus much it may be neces-\\nsary to state for the correctness of the descrip-\\ntions. The scenes attempted to be sketched\\nare in Spain, Portugal, Epirus, Acarnania and\\nGreece. There, for the present, the poem\\nstops: its reception will determine whether the\\nauthor may venture to conduct his readers to\\nthe capital of the East, through Ionia and\\nPhrygia these two Cantos are merely experi-\\nmental.\\nA fictitious character is introduced for the\\nsake of giving some connection to the piece\\nwhich, however, makes no pretensions to reg-\\nularity. It has been suggested to me by\\nfriends, on whose opinions I set a high value,\\nthat in this fictitious character, Childe Har-\\nold, I may incur the suspicion of having in-\\n3", "height": "2975", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0011.jp2"}, "12": {"fulltext": "4 PREFACE.\\ntended some real personage this I beg leave,\\nonce for all, to disclaim. Harold is a child of\\nimagination for the purpose I have stated. In\\nsome very trivial particulars, and those merely\\nlocal, there might be grounds for such a\\nnotion but in the main points, I should hope,\\nnone whatever.\\nIt is almost superfluous to mention that the\\nappellation Childe, as Childe Walters,\\nChilde Childers, etc., is used as more conso-\\nnant with the old structure of versification\\nwhich I have adopted. The Good-Night/ in\\nthe beginning of the first Canto, was suggested\\nby Lord Maxwell s Good-Night, in the\\nBorder Minstrelsy, edited by Mr. Scott.\\nWith the different poems which have been\\npublished on Spanish subjects, there may be\\nfound some slight coincidence in the first part\\nwhich treats of the Peninsula but it can only\\nbe casual, as, with the exception of a few con-\\ncluding stanzas, the whole of this poem was\\nwritten in the Levant.\\nThe stanza of Spenser, according to one of\\nour most successful poets, admits of every\\nvariety. Dr. Beattie makes the following\\nobservation Not long ago, I began a poem\\nin the style and stanza of Spenser, in which I\\npropose to give full scope to my inclination,", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0012.jp2"}, "13": {"fulltext": "PREFACE. 5\\nand be either droll or pathetic, descriptive or\\nsentimental, tender or satirical, as the humor\\nstrikes me for, if I mistake not, the measure\\nwhich I have adopted admits equally of all\\nthese kinds of composition. Strengthened in\\nmy opinion by such authority, and by the ex-\\nample of some in the highest order of Italian\\npoets, I shall make no apology for attempts at\\nsimilar variations in the following composition\\nsatisfied that, if they are unsuccessful, their\\nfailure must be in the execution rather than in\\nthe design, sanctioned by the practice of\\nAriosto, Thomson, and Beattie.\\nLondon, February, 1812.\\nADDITION TO THE PREFACE.\\nI have now waited till almost all our period-\\nical journals have distributed their usual por-\\ntion of criticism. To the justice of the gener-\\nality of their criticisms I have nothing to\\nobject: it would ill-become me to quarrel with\\ntheir very slight degree of censure, when, per-\\nhaps, if they had been less kind, they had been\\nmore candid. Returning, therefore, to all and\\neach my best thanks for their liberality, on one\\npoint alone shall I venture an observation.\\nAmongst the many objections justly urged to", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0013.jp2"}, "14": {"fulltext": "6 PREFACE.\\nthe very indifferent character of the vagrant\\nChilde (whom, notwithstanding many hints\\nto the contrary, I will maintain to be a ficti-\\ntious personage), it has been stated that,\\nbesides the anachronism, he is very unknightly,\\nas the times of the Knights were times of\\nLove, Honor, and so forth. Now, it so hap-\\npens that the good old times, when Tamour\\ndu bon vieux temps, l amour antique flour-\\nished, were the most profligate of all possible\\ncenturies. Those who have any doubts on\\nthis subject may consult Saint-Palaye, passim,\\nand more particularly vol. ii., p. 69. T*he\\nvows of chivalry were no better kept than any\\nother vows whatsoever; and the songs of the\\nTroubadours were not more decent, and cer-\\ntainly were much less refined, than those of\\nOvid. The Cours d amour, parlemens\\nd amour, ou de courtesie et de gentilesse,\\nhad much more of love than of courtesy or\\ngentleness. See Roland on the same subject\\nwith Saint-Palaye. Whatever other objection\\nmay be urged to that most unamiable person-\\nage, Childe Harold, he was so far perfectly\\nknightly in his attributes No waiter but a\\nknight templar. By the by, I fear that Sir\\nTristram and Sir Lancelot were no better than\\nThe Rovers, or the Double Arrangement.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0014.jp2"}, "15": {"fulltext": "PREFACE. 7\\nthey should be, although very poetical person-\\nages and true knights, sans peur, though\\nnot sans reproche. If the story of the insti-\\ntution of the Garter* be not a fable, the\\nknights of that order have for several centu-\\nries borne the badge of a Countess of Salisbury,\\nof indifferent memory. So much for chivalry.\\nBurke need not have regretted that its days\\nare over, though Marie Antoinette was quite\\nas chaste as most of those in whose honor\\nlances were shivered and knights unhorsed.\\nBefore the days of Bayard, and down to those\\nof Sir Joseph Banks (the most chaste and cele-\\nbrated of ancient and modern times), few ex-\\nceptions will be found to this statement and\\nI fear a little investigation will teach us not\\nto regret these monstrous mummeries of the\\nmiddle ages.\\nI now leave Childe Harold to live his\\nday, such as he is. It had been more agree-\\nable, and certainly more easy, to have drawn\\nan amiable character. It had been easy to\\nvarnish over his faults, to make him do more\\nand express less; but he never was intended as\\nan example, further than to show that early\\nperversion of mind and morals leads to satiety\\nof past pleasures and disappointment in new\\nones, and that even the beauties of nature and", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0015.jp2"}, "16": {"fulltext": "8 PREFACE.\\nthe stimulus of travel (except ambition, the\\nmost powerful of all excitements) are lost on a\\nsoul so constituted, or rather misdirected Had\\nI proceeded with the poem, this character\\nwould have deepened as he drew to the close\\nfor the outline which I once meant to fill up\\nfor him was, with some exceptions, the sketch\\nof a modern Timon, perhaps a poetical Zeluco.\\nLondon, 1813.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0016.jp2"}, "17": {"fulltext": "L univers est une espece dc livrc, dont on\\nn a lu que la premiere page quand on n a vu\\nque son pays. J en ai feuillete un assez grand\\nnombre, que j ai trouve egalement mauvaises.\\nCet examen ne m a point ete infructueux. Jc\\nhaissais ma patrie. Toutes les impertinences\\ndes peuples divers, parmi lesquels j ai vecu\\nm ont reconcilie avec elle. Quand je n aurais\\ntire d autre benefice de mes voyages que\\ncelui-la, je n en regretterais ni les frais ni les\\nfatigues. Le Cosmopolite.", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0017.jp2"}, "18": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0018.jp2"}, "19": {"fulltext": "TO IANTHE.*\\nNot in those climes where I have late been\\nstraying,\\nThough Beautvlonsr hath there been match-\\nless deem d,\\nNot in those visions to the heart displaying\\nForms which it sighs but to have only\\ndream d,\\nHath aught like thee in truth or fancy\\nseem d:\\nNor, having seen thee, shall I vainly seek\\nTo paint those charms which varied as they\\nbeam d\\nTo such as see thee not my words were weak\\nTo those who gaze on thee, what language\\ncould they speak?\\nAh! may st thou ever be what now thou art,\\nNor unbeseem the promise of thy spring,\\nAs fair in form, as warm yet pure in heart,\\nLove s image upon earth without his wing,\\nAnd guileless beyond Hope s imagining!\\nAnd surely she who now so fondly rears\\nLady Charlotte Harley, daughter of the Earl of Oxford,\\nafterwards Lady C. Bacon.\\n11", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0019.jp2"}, "20": {"fulltext": "12 TO IANTHE.\\nThy youth, in thee, thus hourly brightening,\\nBeholds the rainbow of her future years.\\nBefore whose heavenly hues all sorrow disap-\\npears.\\nYoung Peri of the West!\u00e2\u0080\u0094 tis well for me\\nMy years already doubly number thine\\nMy loveless eye unmoved may gaze on thee,\\nAnd safely view thy ripening beauties shine\\nHappy, I ne er shall see them in decline;\\nHappier, that while all younger hearts shall\\nbleed,\\nMine shall escape the doom thine eyes assign\\nTo those whose admiration shall succeed,\\nBut mix d with pangs to Love s even loveliest\\nhours decreed.\\nOh! let that eye, which, wild as the gazelle s,\\nNow brightly bold or beautifully shy,\\nWins as it wanders, dazzles where it dwells,\\nGlance o er this page, nor to my verse deny\\nThat smile for which my breast might vainly\\nsigh,\\nCould I to thee be ever more than friend\\nThis much, dear maid, accord: nor question\\nwhy\\nTo one so young my strain I would com-\\nmend.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0020.jp2"}, "21": {"fulltext": "TO IANTHE. 13\\nBut bid me with my wreath one matchless lily\\nblend\\nSuch is thy name with this my verse en-\\ntwined\\nAnd long as kinder eyes a look shall cast\\nOn Harold s page, Ianthe s here enshrined\\nShall thus be first beheld, forgotten last\\nMy days once number d, should this homage\\npast\\nAttract thy fairy fingers near the lyre\\nOf him who hail d thee, loveliest as thou\\nwast,\\nSuch is the most my memory may desire\\nThough more than Hope can claim, could\\nFriendship less require?", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0021.jp2"}, "22": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0022.jp2"}, "23": {"fulltext": "Childe Harold s Pilgrimage,\\nlSl2.\\nCANTO THE FIRST,\\ni.\\nOk, thou in Hellas deem d of heavenly birth,\\nMuse, form d or fabled at the minstrel s will!\\nSince shamed full oft by later lyres on earth,\\nMine dares not call thee from thy sacred\\nhill:\\nYet there I ve wander d by thy vaunted rill;\\nYes! sigh d o er Delphi s long-deserted\\nshrine,*\\nWhere, save that feeble fountain, all is still\\nNor mote my shell awake the weary Nine\\nTo grace so plain a tale this lowly lay of mine.\\n*The little village of Castri stands partly on the site of\\nDelphi. Along the path of the mountain, from Chrysso, are the\\nremains of sepulchres hewn in and from the rock; one, said\\nthe guide, of a king who broke his neck hunting. His majesty\\nhad certainly chosen the fittest spot for such an achievement. A\\nlittle above Castri is a cave, supposed the Pythian, of immense\\ndepth; the upper part of it is paved, and now a cow-house. On\\nthe other side of Castri stands a Greek monastery: some way\\nabove which is the cleft in the rock, with a range of caverns diffi-\\ncult of ascent, and apparently leading to the interior of the\\nmountain, probably to the Corycian Cavern mentioned by\\nPausanias. From this part descend the fountain and the Dews\\nof Castalie.\\n15", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0023.jp2"}, "24": {"fulltext": "16 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nII.\\nWhilome in Albion s isle there dwelt a youth,\\nWho ne er in virtue s ways did take delight;\\nBut spent his days in riot most uncouth,\\nAnd vex d with mirth the drowsy ear of\\nNight.\\nAh, me in sooth he was a shameless wight,\\nSore given to revel and ungodly glee\\nFew earthly things found favour in his sight\\nSave concubines and carnal companie,\\nAnd flaunting wassailers of high and low\\ndegree.\\nin.\\nChilde Harold was he hight; but whence\\nhis name\\nAnd lineage long, it suits me not to say\\nSuffice it, that perchance they were of fame,\\nAnd had been glorious in another day:\\nBut one sad losel soils a name for aye,\\nHowever mighty in the olden time\\nNor all that heralds rake from coffin d clay,\\nNor florid prose, nor honey d lines of rhyme,\\nCan blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime.\\nIV.\\nChilde Harold bask d him in the noontide sun,\\nDisporting there like any other fly,\\nNor deem d before his little day was done", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0024.jp2"}, "25": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 17\\nOne blast might chill him into misery.\\nBut long ere scarce a third of his pass d by,\\nWorse than adversity the Childe befell\\nHe felt the fulness of satiety:\\nThen loathed he in his native land to dwell,\\nWhich seem d to him more lone than Eremite s\\nsad cell.\\nv.\\nFor he through Sin s long labyrinth had -run,\\nNor made atonement when he did amiss,\\nHad sigh d to many, though he loved but\\none,\\nAnd that loved one, alas, could ne er be his.\\nAh, happy she! to scape from him whose\\nkiss\\nHad been pollution unto aught so chaste\\nWho soon had left her charms for vulgar\\nbliss,\\nAnd spoil d her goodly lands to gild his waste,\\nNor calm domestic peace had ever deign d to\\ntaste.\\nVI.\\nAnd now Childe Harold was sore sick at\\nheart,\\nAnd from his fellow bacchanals would flee\\nTissaid, at times the sullen tear would start,\\nBut pride congeal d the drop within 1iis e e.", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0025.jp2"}, "26": {"fulltext": "18 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nApart he stalk d in joyless reverie,\\nAnd from his native land resolved to go,\\nAnd visit scorching climes beyond the sea:\\nWith pleasure drugg d, he almost longed for\\nwoe,\\nAnd e en for change of scene would seek the\\nshades below.\\nVII.\\nThe Childe departed from his father s hall:\\nIt was a vast and venerable pile;\\nSo old, it seemed only, not to fall,\\nYet strength was pillar d in each massy aisle.\\nMonastic dome! condemn d to uses vile!\\nWhere Superstition once had made her den,\\nNow Paphian girls were known to sing and\\nsmile\\nAnd monks might deem their time was come\\nagen,\\nIf ancient tales say true, nor wrong these holy\\nmen.\\nVIII.\\nYet oftimes, in his maddest mirthful mood,\\nStrange pangs would flash along Childe\\nHarold s brow\\nAs if the memory of some deadly feud\\nOr disappointed passion lurk d below:\\nBut this none knew, nor haply care to know;", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0026.jp2"}, "27": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 19\\nFor his was not that open, artless soul\\nThat feels relief by bidding sorrow flow,\\nNor sought he friend to counsel or condole\\nWhate er this grief mote be, which he could\\nnot control.\\nIX.\\nAnd none did love him though to hall and\\nbower\\nHe gather d revellers from far and near,\\nHe knew them flatterers of the festal hour\\nThe heartless parasites of present cheer.\\nYea, none did love him not his lemans\\ndear\\nBut pomp and power alone are woman s care,\\nAnd where these are light Eros finds a feere\\nMaidens, like moths, are ever caught by\\nglare,\\nAnd Mammon wins his way where Seraphs\\nmight despair.\\nx.\\nChilde Harold had a mother not forgot,\\nThough parting from that mother he did\\nshun;\\nA sister whom he loved, but saw her not\\nBefore his weary pilgrimage begun\\nIf friends he had, he bade adieu to none.\\nYet deem not thence his breast a breast of\\nsteel", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0027.jp2"}, "28": {"fulltext": "$0 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nYe, who have known what tis to dote upon\\nA few dear objects, will in sadness feel\\nSuch partings break the heart they fondly hope\\nto heal.\\nXI.\\nHis house, his home, his heritage, his lands,\\nThe Laughing dames in whom he did delight,\\n*Wh blue eyes, fair locks, and snowy\\nh mds,\\nMight shake the saintship of an anchorite,\\nAnd long had fed his youthful appetite;\\nI blets brimmed with every costly wine,\\nAnd all that mote to luxury invite,\\nWithout a sigh he left to cross the brine,\\nArid traverse Paynim shores, and pass Earth s\\ncentral hue.\\nXII.\\nThe sails were fill d, and fair the light winds\\nblew,\\nAs glad to waft him from his native home;\\nAnd fast the white rocks faded from his view,\\nAnd soon were lost in circumambient foam;\\nAnd then, it may be, of his wish to roam\\nRepented he, but in his bosom slept\\nThe silent thought, nor from his lips did\\ncome\\nOne word of wail, whilst others sate and\\nwept,", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0028.jp2"}, "29": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 21\\nAnd to the reckless gales unmanly moaning\\nkept.\\nXIII.\\nBut when the sun was sinking in the sea,\\nHe seized his harp, which he at times could\\nstring,\\nAnd strike, albeit with untaught melody,\\nWhen deem d he no strange ear was listen-\\ning\\nAnd now his fingers o er it he did fling,\\nAnd turned his farewell in the dim twilight,\\nWhile flew the vessel on her snowy wing,\\nAnd Meeting shores receded from his sight,\\nThus to the elements he pour d his last Good\\nNight.\\nAdieu, adieu my native shore\\nFades o er the waters blue;\\nThe night-winds sigh, the breakers roar,\\nAnd shrieks the wild sea-mew.\\nYon sun that sets upon the sea\\nWe follow in his flight;\\nFarewell awhile to him and thee,\\nMy native Land\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Good Night!\\nA few short hours, and he will rise\\nTo give the morrow birth\\nAnd I shall hail the main and skies,", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0029.jp2"}, "30": {"fulltext": "22 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE\\nBut not my mother earth.\\nDeserted is my own good hall,\\nIts hearth is desolate\\nWild weeds are gathering on the wall,\\nMy dog howls at the gate.\\nCome hither, hither, my little page:\\nWhy dost thou weep and wail?\\nOr dost thou dread the billow s rage,\\nOr tremble at the gale?\\nBut dash the tear-drop from thine eye,\\nOur ship is swift and strong;\\nOur fleetest falcon scarce can fly\\nMore merrily along.\\nLet winds be shrill, let waves roll high,\\nI fear not wave nor wind\\nYet marvel not, Sir Childe, that I\\nAm sorrowful in mind;\\nFor I have from my father gone,\\nA mother whom I love,\\nAnd have no friend, save these alone,\\nBut thee and One above.\\nMy father bless d me fervently,\\nYet did not much complain;\\nBut sorely will my mother sigh\\nTill I come back again.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0030.jp2"}, "31": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 23\\nEnough, enough, my little lad!\\nSuch tears become thine eye\\nIf I thy guileless bosom had,\\nMine own would not be dry.\\nCome hither, hither, my staunch yeoman,\\nWhy dost thou look so pale?\\nOr dost thou dread a French foeman,\\nOr shiver at the gale?\\nDeem st thou I tremble for my life?\\nSir Childe, I m not so weak;\\nBut thinking on an absent wife\\nWill blanch a faithful cheek.\\n4 My spouse and boys dwell near thy hall,\\nAlong the bordering lake\\nAnd when they on their father call,\\nWhat answer shall she make?\\nEnough, enough, my yeoman good,\\nThy grief let none gainsay;\\nBut I, who am of lighter mood,\\nWill laugh to flee away.\\nFor who would trust the seeming sighs\\nOf wife or paramour?\\nFresh feeres will dry the bright blue eyes\\nWe late saw streaming o er.\\nFor pleasures past I do not grieve,", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0031.jp2"}, "32": {"fulltext": "24 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nNor perils gathering near;\\nMy greatest grief is that I leave\\nNo thing that claims a tear.\\nAnd now I m in the world alone,\\nUpon the wide, wide sea;\\nBut why should I for others groan,\\nWhen none will sigh for me?\\nPerchance my dog will whine in vain,\\nTill fed by stranger hands;\\nBut long ere I come back again\\nHe d tear me where he stands.\\nWith thee, my bark, I ll swiftly go\\nAthwart the foaming brine\\nNor care what land thou bear st me to.\\nSo not again to mine.\\nWelcome, welcome, ye dark blue waves!\\nAnd when you fail my sight,\\nWelcome, ye deserts, and ye caves\\nMy native land Good Night!\\nXIV.\\nOn, on the vessel flies, the land is gone,\\nAnd winds are rude in Biscay s sleepless bay.\\nFour days are sped, but with the fifth, anon,\\nNew shores described make every bosom gay\\nAnd Cintra s mountain greets them on their\\nway,", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0032.jp2"}, "33": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 25\\nAnd Tagus dashing onward to the deep,\\nHis fabled golden tribute bent to pay:\\nAnd soon on board the Lusian pilots leap,\\nAnd steer twixt fertile shores where yet few\\nrustics reap.\\nxv.\\nOh, Christ! it is a goodly sight to see\\nWhat Heaven hath done for this delicious\\nland!\\nWhat fruits of fragrance blush on every\\ntree!\\nWhat goodly prospects o er the hills expand!\\nBut man would mar them with an impious\\nhand:\\nAnd when the Almighty lifts His fiercest\\nscourge\\nGainst those who most transgress His high\\ncommand,\\nWith treble vengeance will His hot shafts\\nurge\\nGaul s locust host, and earth from fellest\\nfoemen purge.\\nxvi.\\nWhat beauties doth Lisboa first unfold!\\nHer image floating on that noble tide,\\nWhich poets vainly pave with sands of gold,\\nBut now whereon a thousand keels did ride", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0033.jp2"}, "34": {"fulltext": "26 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nOf mighty strength, since Albion was allied,\\nAnd to the Lusians did her aid afford\\nA nation swoll n with ignorance and pride,\\nWho lick, yet loathe, the hand that waves\\nthe sword\\nTo save them from the wrath of Gaul s unspar-\\ning lord.\\nXVII.\\nBut whoso entereth within this town,\\nThat, sheening far, celestial seems to be,\\nDisconsolate will wander up and down,\\nMid many things unsightly to strange e e;\\nFor hut and palace show like filthily;\\nThe dingy denizens are rear d in dirt;\\nNo personage of high or mean degree\\nDoth care for cleanness of surtout or shirt,\\nThough shent with Egypt s plague, unkempt,\\nunwash d, unhurt.\\nXVIII.\\nPoor, paltry slaves yet born midst noblest\\nscenes\\nWhy, Nature, waste thy wonders on such\\nmen?\\nLo! Cintra s glorious Eden intervenes\\nIn variegated maze of mount and glen.\\nAh me! what hand can pencil guide, or pen,\\nTo follow half on which the eye dilates", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0034.jp2"}, "35": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 27\\nThrough views more dazzling unto mortal ken\\nThan those whereof such things the bard\\nrelates,\\nWho to the awe-struck world unlock d Ely-\\nsium s gates?\\nXIX.\\nThe horrid crags, by toppling convent\\ncrown d,\\nThe cork-trees hoar that clothe the shaggy\\nsteep,\\nThe mountain moss by scorching skies im-\\nbrown d,\\nThe sunken glen, whose sunless shrubs must\\nweep,\\nThe tender azure of the unruffled deep,\\nThe orange tints that gild the greenest bough\\nThe torrents that from cliff to valley leap,\\nThe vine on high, the willow branch below,\\nMix d in one mighty scene, with varied beauty\\nglow.\\nxx.\\nThen slowly climb the many-winding way,\\nAnd frequent turn to linger as you go,\\nFrom loftier rocks new loveliness survey,\\nAnd rest ye at Our Lady s House of Woe;\\nThe convent of Our Lady of Punishment, No8\u00c2\u00bba Senora\\nde Pena, on the summit of the rock. Below, at some distance,\\nis the Cork Convent, where St. Honorius dug his den, over\\nwhich is his epitaph. From the hills, the sea adds to the beauty\\nof the view.", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0035.jp2"}, "36": {"fulltext": "28 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nWhere frugal monks their little relics show,\\nAnd sundry legends to the stranger tell\\nHere impious men have punish d been;\\nand lo,\\nDeep in yon cave Honorius long did dwell,\\nIn hope to merit Heaven by making earth a\\nHell.\\nXXI.\\nAnd here and there, as up the crags you\\nspring,\\nMark many rude-earv d crosses near the\\npath\\nYet deem not these devotion s offering\\nThese are memorials frail of murderous\\nwrath;\\nFor wheresoe er the shrieking victim hath\\nPour d forth his blood beneath the assassin s\\nknife,\\nSome hand erects a cross of mouldering lath\\nAnd grove and glen with thousand such are\\nrife\\nThroughout this purple land, where law se-\\ncures not life!\\nIt is a well-known fact, that in the year 1R09 the assassina-\\ntions in the streets of Lisbon and its vicinity were not confined by\\nthe Portuguese to their countrymen, but ihat Englishmen were\\ndaily butchered; and so far from redress being obtained, we\\nwere requested not to interfere if we perceived any compatriot\\ndefending himself against his allies. I was once stopped in the\\nway to the theatre at ei^ht o clock in the evening, when the\\nstreets were not more empty than they generally are at that\\nhour, opposite to an open shop, and in a carriage with a friend.\\nHad we not fortunately been armed, I have not the least doubt\\nthat we should have adorned a tale, instead of telling one.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0036.jp2"}, "37": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 29\\nXXII.\\nOn sloping mounds, or in the vale beneath.\\nAre domes where whilom kings did make\\nrepair:\\nBut now the wild flowers round them only\\nbreathe:\\nYet ruined splendor still is lingering there,\\nAnd yonder towers the Prince s palace fair;\\nThere thou, too, Vathek England s wealth-\\niest son,\\nOnce form d thy Paradise, as not aware\\nWhen wanton Wealth her mightiest deeds\\nhath done,\\nMeek Peace voluptuous lures was ever wont\\nto shun.\\nXXIII.\\nHere didst thou dwell, here schemes of\\npleasure plan,\\nBeneath yon mountain s ever beauteous\\nbrow\\nBut now, as if a thing unblest by Man,\\nThy fairy dwelling is as lone as thou!\\nHere giant weeds a passage scarce allow\\nTo halls deserted, portals gaping wide\\nFresh lessons to the thinking bosom, how\\nVain are the pleasances on earth supplied;\\nSwept into wrecks anon by Time s ungentle\\ntide.", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0037.jp2"}, "38": {"fulltext": "30 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nXXIV.\\nBehold the hall where chiefs were late con-\\nvened\\nOh! dome displeasing unto British eye!\\nWith diadem hight foolscap, lo! a fiend,\\nA little fiend that scoffs incessantly,\\nThere sits in parchment robe array d,\\nand by\\nHis side is hung a seal and sable scroll,\\nWhere blazon d glare names known to chiv-\\nalry,\\nAnd sundry signatures adorn the roll,\\nWhereat the Urchin points and laughs with\\nall his soul.\\nxxv.\\nConvention is the dwarfish demon styled\\nThat foil d the knights in Marialva s dome:\\nOf brains (if brains they had) he them be-\\nguiled.\\nAnd turn d a nation s shallow joy to gloom.\\nHere Folly dashed to earth the victor s\\nplume,\\nAnd Policy regained what Arms had lost:\\nFor chiefs like ours in vain may laurels\\nbloom!\\nThe Convention of Cintra was signed in the palace of the\\nIfarchese Marialva.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0038.jp2"}, "39": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 31\\nWoe to the conquering, not the conquer d\\nhost,\\nSince baffled Triumph droops on Lusitania s\\ncoast.\\nXXVI.\\nAnd ever since that martial synod met,\\nBritannia sickens, Cintro, at thy name;\\nAnd folks in office at the mention fret,\\nAnd fain would blush, if blush they could,\\nfor shame.\\nHow will posterity the deed proclaim!\\nWill not our own and fellow-nations sneer,\\nTo view these champions cheated of their\\nfame,\\nBy foes in fight o erthrown, yet victors here,\\nWhere Scorn her finger points through many\\na coming year?\\nXXVII.\\nSo deem d the Childe, as o er the mountains\\nhe\\nDid take his way in solitary guise\\nSweet was the scene, yet soon he thought to\\nflee,\\nMore restless than the swallow in the skies:\\nThough here awhile he learned to moralize,\\nFor Meditation fix d at times on him,\\nAnd conscious Reason whisper d to despise", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0039.jp2"}, "40": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nHis early youth misspent in maddest whim;\\nBut as he gazed on Truth, his aching eyes\\ngrew dim.\\nXXVIII.\\nTo horse! to horse! he quits, forever quits\\nA scene of peace, though soothing to his\\nsoul\\nAgain he rouses from his moping tits.\\nBut seeks not now the harlot and the I\\ninward he flies, nor tix d as yet the goal\\nWhere he shall rest him on his pilgrimage\\nAnd o er him many changing scenes must\\nroll.\\nEre toil his thirst for travel can assuage,\\nOr he shall calm his breast, or learn experi-\\nence sage.\\nXXIX.\\nYet Mafra shall one moment claim delay,\\nWhere dwelt oi yore the Lusians luckless\\nqueen\\nAnd church and court did mingle their array,\\nAnd mass and revel were alternate seen;\\nLordlings and freres ill-sorted fry, I ween!\\nBut here the Babylonian whore had built\\nA dome, where flaunts she in such glorious\\nsheen,\\nThat men forget the blood which she hath\\nspilt,", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0040.jp2"}, "41": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. S3\\nAnd bow the knee to pomp that loves to gar-\\nnish guilt.\\nXXX.\\nO er vales that teem with fruits, romantic\\nhills,\\n(Oh that such hills upheld a free-born race!)\\nWhereon to gaze the eye with joyance fills,\\nChilde Harold wends through many a pk\\nant place.\\nThough sli m it but a foolish cha\\nAnd marvel men should quit their easy\\nchair,\\nThe toilsome way, and long, long league to\\ntrace.\\nOh, there is q the mountain\\nAnd life, that bloated Base, can never hop\\nshare.\\n.XI.\\nMore bleak to view the hills at length recede,\\nAnd, less luxuriant, smoother vales extend;\\nImmense horizon-bound plains succeed!\\nFar as the eye discerns, withouten end,\\nSpain s realms appear, whereon her shep-\\nherds tend\\nFlocks, whose rich fleece right well the trader\\nknows\\n3", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0041.jp2"}, "42": {"fulltext": "34 CH1LDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nNow must the pastor s arms his lambs de-\\nfend\\nFor Spain is compass d by unyielding- foes,\\nAnd all must shield their all, or share Subjec-\\ntion s woes.\\nXXXII.\\nWhere Lusitania and her Sister meet,\\nDeem ye what bounds the rival realms di-\\nvide?\\nOr e er the jealous queens of nations greet,\\nDoth Tayo interpose his mighty tide?\\nOr dark sierras rise in craggy pride?\\nOr fence of art, like China s vasty wall?\\nNe barrier wall, ne river deep and wide,\\nNe horrid crags, nor mountains dark land\\ntall,\\nRise like the rocks that part Hispania s land\\nfrom Gaul:\\nXXXIII.\\nBut these between a silver streamlet glides,\\nAnd scarce a name distinguisheth the brook,\\nThough rival kingdoms press its verdant\\nsides,\\nHere leans the idle shepherd on his crook.\\nAnd vacant on the rippling waves doth look,\\nThat peaceful still twist bitterest foemen\\nflow", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0042.jp2"}, "43": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 35\\nFor proud each peasant as the noblest duke:\\nWell doth the Spanish hind the difference\\nknow\\nTwixt him and Lusian slave, the lowest of the\\nlow.\\nXXXIV.\\nBut ere the mingling bounds have far been\\npass d,\\nDark Guadiana rolls his power along\\nIn sullen billows, murmuring and vast,\\nSo noted ancient roundelays among,\\nWhilom upon his banks did legions throng\\nOf Moor and Knight, in mailed splendor\\ndrest\\nHere ceased the swift their race, here sunk\\nthe strong;\\nThe Paynim turban and the Christian crest\\nMix d on the bleeding stream, by floating hosts\\noppress d.\\nxxxv.\\nOh, lovely Spain! renown d, romantic land!\\nWhere is that standard which Pelagio bo* s,\\nAs I found the Portuguese, so I have characterized them.\\nThat they are since improved, at least in courage, is evident.\\nThe late exploits of Lord Wellington have effaced the follies of\\nCintra. He has indeed done wonders; he has perhaps changed\\nthe character of a nation, reconciled rival superstitions, and\\nbaffled an enemy who never retreated before his predecessors.\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00941812.", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0043.jp2"}, "44": {"fulltext": "36 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGAIMAGE.\\nWhen Cava s* traitor-sire first call d the band\\nThat dyed thy mountain-streams with Gothic\\ngore?\\nWhere are those bloody banners which of\\nyore\\nWaved o er thy sons, victorious to the gale,\\nAnd drove at last the spoilers to their shore?\\nRed gleam d the cross, and waned the cres-\\ncent pale,\\nWhile Afric s echoes thrill d with Moorish\\nmatrons wail.\\nxxxvi.\\nTeems not each ditty with the glorious tale?\\nAh! such, alas, the hero s amplest fate!\\nWhen granite moulders and when records\\nfail,\\nA peasant s plaint prolongs his dubious date.\\nPride! bend thine eye from heaven to thine\\nestate,\\nSee how the mighty shrink into a song!\\nCan Volume, Pillar, Pile, preserve thee\\ngreat?\\nOr must thou trust Tradition s simple\\ntongue,\\nWhen Flattery sleeps with thee, and History\\ndoes thee wrong?\\nCount Julian s daughter, the Helen of Spain. Pelagius pre-\\nserved his independence in the fastnesses of the Asturias.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0044.jp2"}, "45": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 37\\nXXXVII.\\nAwake, ye sons of Spain awake advance-?\\nLo! Chivalry, your ancient goddess, cries,\\nBut wields not, as of old, her thirsty lance,\\nNor shakes her crimson plumage in the skies\\nNow on the smoke of blazing bolts she flies,\\nAnd speaks in thunder through yon engine s\\nroar\\nIn every peal she calls\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Awake! arise!\\nSay, is her voice more feeble than of yore,\\nWhen her war-song was heard on Anda-\\nlusia s shore?\\nxxxvni.\\nHark! heard you not those hoofs of dreadful\\nnote?\\nSounds not the clang of conflict on the heath?\\nSaw ye not whom the reeking sabre smote;\\nNor saved your brethren ere they sank be-\\nneath\\nTyrants and tyrants slaves?\u00e2\u0080\u0094 the fires of\\ndeath\\nThe bale-fires flash on high from rock to\\nrock\\nEach volley tells that thousands cease to\\nbreathe\\nDeath rides upon the sulphury Siroc,\\nRed Battle stamps his foot, and nations feel\\nthe shock.", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0045.jp2"}, "46": {"fulltext": "38 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nXXXIX.\\nLo! where the Giant on the mountain stands,\\nHis blood-red tresses deepening in the sun,\\nWith death-shot glowing in his fiery hands,\\nAnd eye that scorcheth all it glares upon;\\nRestless it rolls, now fix d, and now anon\\nFlashing afar, and at his iron feet,\\nDestruction cowers, to mark what deeds arc\\ndone\\nFor on this morn three potent nations meet,\\nTo shed before his shrine the blood he deems\\nmost sweet.\\nXL.\\nBy Heaven! it is a splendid sight to see\\n(For one who hath no friend, no brother\\nthere)\\nTheir rival scarfs of mix d embroidery.\\nTheir various arms that glitter in the air!\\nWhat gallant war-hounds rouse them from\\ntheir lair,\\nAnd gnash their fangs, loud yelling for the\\nprey!\\nAll join the chase, but few the triumph share\\nThe Grave shall bear the chiefest prize away,\\nAnd Havoc scarce for joy can number their\\narray.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0046.jp2"}, "47": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 39\\nXLI.\\nThree hosts combine tc offer sacrifice;\\nThree tongues prefer strange orisons on\\nhigh;\\nThree gaudy standards flout the pale blue\\nskies:\\nThe shouts are France, Spain, Albion, Vic-\\ntory!\\nThe foe, the victim, and the fond ally\\nThat fights for all, but ever fights in vain,\\nAre met as if at home they could not die\\nTo feed the crow on Talavera s plain,\\nAnd fertilize the field that each pretends to\\ngain.\\nXI.II.\\nThere shall they rot Ambition s honor d\\nfools!\\nYes, Honor decks the turf that wraps their\\nclay!\\nVain Sophistry! in these behold the tools,\\nThe broken tools, that tyrants cast away\\nBy myriads, when they dare to pave their\\nway\\nWith human hearts to what? a dream\\nalone.\\nCan despots compass aught that hails their\\nsway?", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0047.jp2"}, "48": {"fulltext": "40 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nOr call with truth one span of earth their\\nown,\\nSave that wherein at last they crumble bone\\nby bone?\\nXLIII.\\nO Albuera, glorious field of grief!\\nAs o er thy plain the Pilgrim prick d his\\nsteed,\\nWho could foresee thee, in a space so brief,\\nA scene where mingling foes should boast\\nand bleed?\\nPeace to the perish d! may the warrior s\\nmeed\\nAnd tears of triumph their reward prolong\\nTill others fall where other chieftains lead.\\nThy name shall circle round the gaping\\nthrong.\\nAnd shine in worthless lays, the theme of\\ntransient song.\\nXLIV.\\nEnough of Battle s minions! let them play\\nTheir game of lives, and barter breath for\\nfame:\\nFame that will scarce reanimate their clay,\\nThough thousands fall to deck some single\\nname.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0048.jp2"}, "49": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAjGE. 41\\nIn sooth, twere sad to thwart their noble\\naim\\nWho strike, blest hirelings! for their country s\\ngood,\\nAnd die, that living might have proved her\\nshame\\nPerish d, perchance, in some domestic fend,\\nOr in a narrower sphere wild Rapine s path\\npursued.\\nxlv.\\nFull swiftly Harold wends his lonely way\\nWhere proud Sevilla triumphs unsubdued\\nYet is she free the spoiler s wish d- for\\nprey\\nSoon, soon shall Conquest s fiery foot in-\\ntrude,\\nBlackening her lovely domes with traces\\nrude.\\nInevitable hour! Gainst fate to strive\\nWhere Desolation plants her famish d brood\\nIs vain, or Ilion, Tyre, might yet survive.\\nAnd Virtue vanquish all, and Murder cease to\\nthrive.\\nXLVI.\\nBut all unconscious of the coming doom.\\nThe feast, the song, the revel here abounds;", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0049.jp2"}, "50": {"fulltext": "42 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nStrange modes of merriment the hours con-\\nsume,\\nNor bleed these patriots with their country s\\nwounds\\nNor here War s clarion, but Love s rebeck\\nsounds;\\nHere Folly still his votaries enthralls,\\nAnd young-eyed Lewdness walks her mid-\\nnight rounds:\\nGirt with the silent crimes of capitals,\\nStill to the last kind Vice clings to the totter-\\ning walls.\\nXLVII.\\nNot so the rustic: with his trembling mate\\nHe lurks, nor casts his heavy eye afar,\\nLest he should view his vineyard desolate,\\nBlasted below the dun hot breath of war.\\nNo more beneath soft Eve s consenting star\\nFandango twirls his jocund castanet:\\nAh, monarchs! could ye taste the mirth ye\\nmar,\\nNot in the toils of Glory would ye fret\\nThe hoarse dull drum would sleep, and Man be\\nhappy yet.\\nXLVIII.\\nHow carols now the lusty muleteer?\\nOf love, romance, devotion is his lay,", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0050.jp2"}, "51": {"fulltext": ".CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 43\\nAs whilome he was wont the leagues to\\ncheer,\\nHis quick bells wildly jingling on the way?\\nNo! as he speeds, he chants Viva el Rey!\\nAnd check his song to execrate Godoy,\\nThe royal wittol Charles, and curse the day\\nWhen first Spain s queen beheld the black-\\neyed boy,\\nAnd gore-faced Treason sprung from her\\nadulterate joy.\\nXLIX.\\nOn yon long level plain, at distance crown d\\nWith crags, whereon those Moorish turrets\\nrest,\\nWide scatter d hoof-marks dint the wounded\\nground\\nAnd, scathed by fire, the greensward s dark-\\nen d vest\\nTells that the foe was Andalusia s guest:\\nHere was the camp, the watch-flame, and the\\nhost,\\nViva el Rcy Fernando! Long live King Ferdinand is the\\nchorus of most of the Spanish patriotic songs. They are chiefly\\nin dispraise of the old King Charles, the Queen, and the Prince\\nof Peace. I have heard many of them: some of the airs are\\nbeautiful. Don Manuel Godoy, the Principe de la Paz, of an\\nancient but decayed familv, was born at Badajoz, on the fron-\\ntiers of Portugal, and was originally in the ranks of the Spanish\\nguards: till his person attracted the queen s eyes, and raised\\nhim to the dukedom of Alcudia, etc., etc. It is to this man that\\nthe Spaniards universally impute the ruin of their country.", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0051.jp2"}, "52": {"fulltext": "44 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nHere the brave peasant storm d the dragon s\\nnest;\\nStill does he mark it with triumphant boast,\\nAnd points to yonder cliffs, which oft were\\nwon and lost.\\nl.\\nAnd whomsoe er along the path you meet\\nBears in his cap the badge of crimson hue,*\\nWhich tells you whom to shun and whom to\\ngreet:\\nWoe to the man that walks in public view\\nWithout of loyalty this token true:\\nSharp is the knife, and sudden is the stroke;\\nAnd sorely would the Gallic foeman rue,\\nIf subtle poinards, wrapt beneath the cloke,\\nCould blunt the sabre s edge, or clear the\\ncannon s smoke.\\nLI.\\nAt every turn Morena s dusky height\\nSustains aloft the battery s iron load;\\nAnd, far as mortal eye can compass sight,\\nThe mountain howitzer, the broken road,\\nThe bristling palisade, the fosse o erflow d,\\nThe station d bands, the never-vacant watch,\\nThe magazine in rocky durance stow d,\\nThe red cockade, with Fernando VII. in the center.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0052.jp2"}, "53": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 45\\nThe holster d steed beneath the shed of\\nthatch,\\nThe ball-piled pyramid, the ever-blazing\\nmatch,\\nLII.\\nPortend the deeds to come: but he whose\\nnod\\nHas tumbled feebler despots from their sway,\\nA moment pauseth ere he lifts the rod;\\nA little moment deigneth to delay:\\nSoon will his legions sweep through these\\ntheir way:\\nThe West must own the Scourger of the\\nworld.\\nAh, Spain how sad will be thy reckoning-\\nday,\\nWhen soars Gaul s Vulture, with his wings\\nunfurled.\\nAnd thou shalt view thy sons in crowds to\\nHades hurled.\\nLIU.\\nAnd must they fall the young, the proud,\\nthe brave\\nTo swell one bloated chief s unwholesome\\nreign?\\nNo step between submission and a grave?\\nThe rise of rapine and the fall of Spain?", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0053.jp2"}, "54": {"fulltext": "46 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nAnd doth the power that man adores ordain\\nTheir doom, nor heed the suppliant s appeal?\\nIs all that desperate Valor acts in vain?\\nAnd Counsel sage, and patriotic Zeal,\\nThe Veteran s skill. Youth s fire and Man-\\nhood s heart of steel?\\nLIV.\\nIs it for this the Spanish maid, aroused,\\nHangs on the willow her unstrung guitar,\\nAnd, all unsex d, the anlace hath espoused,\\nSung the loud song, and dared the deed of\\nwar?\\nAnd she, whom once the semblance of a scar\\nAppall d, an owlet s larum chill d with dread,\\nNow views the column-scattering bayonet\\njar,\\nThe falchion flash, and o er the yet warm\\ndead\\nStalks with Minerva s step where Mars might\\nquake to tread.\\nLV.\\nYe who shall marvel when you hear her tale,\\nOh! had you known her in her softer hour,\\nMark d her black eye that mocks her coal-\\nblack veil,\\nHeard her light, lively tones in lady s bower,", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0054.jp2"}, "55": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 47\\nSeen her long- locks that foil the painter s\\npower,\\nHer fairy form, with more than female grace,\\nScarce would you deem that Saragoza s tower\\nBeheld her smile in Danger s Gorgon face,\\nThin the closed ranks, and lead in Glory s\\nfearful chase.\\nLVI.\\nHer lover sinks she sheds no ill-tim d tear;\\nHer chief is slain she fills his fatal post;\\nHer fellows flee she checks their base\\ncareer;\\nThe foe retires she heads the sallying host:\\nWho can appease like her a lover s ghost?\\nWho can avenge so well a leader s fall?\\nWhat maid retrieve when man s flush d hope\\nis lost?\\nWho hang so fiercely on the flying Gaul,\\nFoil d by a woman s hand, before a battered\\nwall?*\\nLVI I.\\nYet are Spain s maids no race of Amazons,\\nBut form d for all the witching arts of love:\\nThough thus in arms they emulate her sons,\\nSuch were the exploits of the Maid of Saragoza, who by her\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00bcalor elevated herself to the highest rank of heroines. When the\\nauthor was at Seville, she walked daily on the Prado, decorated\\nwith medals and orders, by command of the Junta.", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0055.jp2"}, "56": {"fulltext": "48 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nAnd in the horrid phalanx dare to move,\\nTis but the tender fierceness of the dove,\\nPecking the hand that hovers o er her mate:\\nIn softness as in firmness far above\\nRemoter females, famed for sickening prate;\\nHer mind is nobler sure, her charms perchance\\nas great.\\nLVIII.\\nThe seal Love s dimpling finger hath im-\\npressed\\nDenotes how soft that chin which bears his\\ntouch\\nHer lips, whose kisses pout to leave their\\nnest,\\nBid man be valiant ere he merit such:\\nHer glance, how wildly beautiful! how much\\nHath Phcebus woo d in vain to spoil her\\ncheek,\\nWhich glows yet smoother from his amorous\\nclutch\\nWho round the North for paler dames would\\nseek?\\nHow poor their forms appear! how languid,\\nwan, and weak!\\nSigilla in mentn impressa Amoris digitulo\\nWstigo demonstrant mollitudinera. Aul. Gel.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0056.jp2"}, "57": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 49\\nL1X.\\nMatch me, ye climes! which poets love to\\nlaud\\nMatch me, ye harems of the land! where\\nnow\\nI strike my strain, far distant, to applaud\\nBeauties that even a cynic must avow\\nMatch me those houris, whom ye scarce allow\\nTo taste the gale lest Love should ride the\\nwind,\\nWith Spain s dark-glancing daughters\\ndeign to know,\\nThere your wise Prophet s paradise we find,\\nHis black-eyed maids of Heaven, angelically\\nkind.\\nLX.\\nOh thou, Parnassus! whom I now survey,\\nNot in the frenzy of a dreamer s eye,\\nNot in the fabled landscape of a lay,\\nBut soaring snow- clad through thy native\\nsky.\\nIn the wild pomp of mountain majesty!\\nWhat marvel if I thus essay to sing?\\nThe humblest of thy pilgrims passing by\\nWould gladly woo thine echoes with his\\nstring,\\nThough from thy heights no more one muse\\nwill wave her wimr.", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0057.jp2"}, "58": {"fulltext": "50 CHILDK HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nI. XI.\\nOft have I dream d of thee! whose glorious\\nname\\nWho knows not, knows not man s divinest\\nlore:\\nAnd now I view thee, tis, alas, with shame\\nThat I in feeblest accents must adore.\\nWhen I recount thy worshippers of yore\\nI tremble, and can only bend the knee;\\nNor raise my voice, nor vainly dare to soar,\\nBut gaze beneath thy cloudy canopy\\nIn silent joy to think at last I look on thee\\nLXII.\\nHappier in this than mightiest bards have\\nbeen,\\nWhose fate to distant homes confined their\\nlot,\\nShall I unmoved behold the hallow d scene,\\nWhich others rave of, though they know it\\nnot?\\nThough here no more Apollo haunts his\\nrot,\\nAnd thou, the Muses seat, art now their\\ngrave,\\nSome gentle spirit till pervades the spot,\\nSighs in the gale, keeps silence in the cave,\\nAnd glides with glassy foot o er yon melodious\\nwave.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0058.jp2"}, "59": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 51\\nLXIII.\\nOf thee hereafter. Even amidst my strain\\nI turn d aside to pay my homage here;\\nForgot che land, the sons, the maids of Spain;\\nHer fate, to every free born bosom dear\\nAnd hail d thee, not perchance without a\\ntear.\\nNow to my theme but from thy holy haunt\\nLet me some remnant, some memorial bear;\\nYield me one leaf of Daphne s deathless\\nplant,\\nNor let thy votary s hope be deem d an idle\\nvaunt.\\nLXIV.\\nBut ne er didst thou, fair Mount, when\\nGreece was young.\\nSee round thy giant base a brighter choir;\\nNor e er did Delphi, when her priestess snug\\nThe Pythian hymn with more than mortal\\nfire,\\nBehold a train more fitting to inspire\\nThe song of love than Andalusia s maids,\\nNurst in the glowing lap of soft desire:\\nAh! that to these were given such peaceful\\nshades\\nAs Greece can still bestow, though Glory fly\\nher glades.", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0059.jp2"}, "60": {"fulltext": "52 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nLXV.\\nFair is proud Seville; let her country boast\\nHer strength, her wealth, her site of ancient\\ndays,\\nBut Cadiz, rising on the distant coast,\\nCalls forth a sweeter, though ignoble praise.\\nAh, Vice! how soft are thy voluptuous ways!\\nWhile boyish blood is mantling, who can\\nscape\\nThe fascination of thy magic gaze?\\nA Cherub-hydra round us dost thou gape,\\nAnd mould to every taste thy dear delusive\\nshape.\\nLXV I.\\nWhen Paphos fell by time\u00e2\u0080\u0094 accursed Time*\\nThe Queen who conquers all must yield to\\nthee\\nThe Pleasures fled, but sought as warm a\\nclime;\\nAnd Venus, constant to her native sea,\\nTo nought else constant, hither deign d to\\nflee,\\nAnd fix d her shrine within these walls of\\nwhite;\\nThough not to one dome circumscribeth she\\nHer worship, but, devoted to her rite,\\nA thousand altars rise, forever blazing bright.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0060.jp2"}, "61": {"fulltext": "LDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 53\\nLXVII.\\nFrom morn till night, from night till startled\\nMorn\\nPeeps blushing on the revel s laughing crew,\\nThe song is heard, the rosy garland worn\\nDevices quaint, and frolics ever new,\\nTread on each other s kibes. A long adieu\\nHe bids to sober joy that here sojourns:\\nNought interrupts the riot, though in lieu\\nOf true devotion monkish incense burns,\\nAnd love and prayer unite, or rule the hour by\\nturns.\\nLXVIII.\\nThe Sabbath comes, a day of blessed rest;\\nWhat hallows it upon this Christian shore?\\nLo! it is sacred to a solemn feast:\\nHark! heard you not the forest monarch s\\nroar?\\nCrashing the lance, he snuffs the spouting\\ngore\\nOf man and steed, o erthrown beneath his\\nhorn:\\nThe throng d arena shakes with shouts for\\nmore;\\nYells the mad crowd o er entrails freshly\\ntorn,\\nNor shrinks the female eye, nor even affects to\\nmourn.", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0061.jp2"}, "62": {"fulltext": "54 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nLXIX.\\nThe seventh day this: the jubilee of man.\\nLondon! right well thou know st the day of\\nprayer:\\nThen thy spruce citizen, wash d artisan,\\nAnd smug apprentice gulp their weekly air:\\nThy coach of hackney, whiskey, one-horse\\nchair,\\nAnd humblest gig, through sundry suburbs\\nwhirl\\nTo Hamstead, Brentford, Harrow, make\\nrepair;\\nTill the tired jade the wheel forgets to hurl,\\nProvoking envious gibe from each pedestrian\\nchurl.\\nLXX.\\nSome o er thy Thamis row the ribbon d fair,\\nOthers along the safer turnpike fly;\\nSome Richmond Hill ascend, some scud to\\nWare,\\nAnd many to the steep of Highgate hie.\\nAsk ye, Boeotian shades, the reason why?\\nTis to the worship of the solemn Horn,\\nGrasp d in the holy hand of Mystery,\\nIn whose dread name both men and maids\\nare sworn,\\nAnd consecrate the oath with draught, and\\ndance till morn.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0062.jp2"}, "63": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 55\\nLXXI.\\nAll have their fooleries; not alike are thine,\\nFair Cadiz, rising o er the dark-blue sea!\\nSoon as the matin bell proclaimeth nine,\\nThy saint adorers count the rosary:\\nMuch is the Virgin teased to shrive them free\\n(Well do I ween the only virgin there)\\nFrom crimes as numerous as her beadsmen\\nbe;\\nThen to the crowded circus forth they fare:\\nYoung, old, high, low, at once the same diver-\\nsion share.\\nLXXII.\\nThe lists are ope d, the spacious area clear d,\\nThousands on thousands piled are seated\\nround;\\nLong ere the first loud trumpet s note is\\nheard,\\nNe vacant space for lated wight is found:\\nHere dons, grandees, but chiefly dames\\nabound,\\nSkill d in the ogle of a roguish eye,\\nYet ever well inclined to heal the wound;\\nNone through their cold disdain are doom d\\nto die,\\nAs moon-struck bards complain, by Love s sad\\narchery.", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0063.jp2"}, "64": {"fulltext": "56 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nLXXIII.\\nHush d is the din of tongues on gallant\\nsteeds,\\nWith milk-white crest, gold spur, and light-\\npoised lance,\\nFour cavaliers prepare for venturous deeds,\\nAnd lowly bending to the lists advance;\\nRich are their scarfs, their chargers featly\\nprance:\\nIf in the dangerous game they shine to-day,\\nThe crowd s loud shout, and ladies i\\nglance,\\nBest prize of better acts, they bear away,\\nAnd all that kings or chiefs e er gain their\\ntoils repay.\\nIX XIV.\\nIn costly sheen and gaudy cloak array d,\\nBut all afoot, the light-limb d Matadore\\nStands in the center, eager to invade\\nThe lord of lowing herds; but not before\\nThe ground, with cautious tread, is traversed\\no er,\\nLest aught unseen should lurk to thwart his\\nspeed,\\nHis arms a dart, he fights aloof, nor more\\nCan man achieve without the friendly steed\\nAlas! too oft condemn d for him to bear and\\nbleed.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0064.jp2"}, "65": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 07\\nLXXV.\\nThrice sounds the clarion; lo! the signal\\nfalls,\\nThe den expands, and Expectation mute\\nGapes round the silent circle s peopled walls.\\nBounds with one lashing spring the mighty\\nbrute,\\nAnd wildly staring, spurns, with sounding\\nfoot,\\nThe sand, nor blindly rushes on his foe\\nHere, there, he points his threatening front,\\nto suit\\nHis first attack, wide waving to and fro\\nHis angry tail; red rolls his eyes dilated glow.\\nLXXVI.\\nSudden he stops; his eye is fix d: away,\\nAway, thou heedless boy! prepare the spear;\\nNow is thy time to perish, or display\\nThe skill that yet may check his mad career.\\nWith well-timed croupe the nimble coursers\\nveer;\\nOn foams the bull, but not unscathed he\\ngoes;\\nStreams from his flank the crimson torrent\\nclear:\\nHe flies, he wheels, distracted with his\\nthroes:", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0065.jp2"}, "66": {"fulltext": "58 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nDart follows dart; lance, lance; loud bellow-\\nings speak his woes.\\nLXXVII.\\nAgain he conies; nor dart nor lance avail,\\nNor the wild plunging of the tortured horse;\\nThough man and man s avenging arms assail,\\nVain are his weapons, vainer is his force.\\nOne gallant steed is stretch d a mangled\\ncorse\\nAnother, hideous sight! unseam d appears,\\nHis gory chest unveils life s panting source;\\nThough death-struck, still his feeble frame\\nhe rears;\\nStaggering, but stemming all, his lord\\nunharmed he bears.\\nLXXVIII.\\nFoil d, bleeding, breathless, furious to the\\nlast,\\nFull in the center stands the bull at bay,\\nMid wounds, and clinging darts, and lances\\nbrast,\\nAnd foes disabled in the brutal fray:\\nAnd now the Matadores around him play,\\nShake the red cloak, and poise the ready\\nbrand\\nOnce more through all he bursts his thunder-\\ning way", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0066.jp2"}, "67": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 5\u00c2\u00a3\\nVain rage! the mantle quits the conynge\\nhand,\\nWraps his fierce eye tis past he sinks upon\\nthe sand.\\nLXXIX.\\nWhere his vast neck just mingles with the\\nspine,\\nSheathed in his form the deadly weapon lies.\\nHe stops he starts disdaining to decline:\\nSlowly he falls, amidst triumphant cries,\\nWithout a groan, without a struggle dies.\\nThe decorated car appears: on high\\nThe corse is piled sweet sight for vulgar\\neyes:\\nFour steeds that spurn the rein, as swift as\\nshy,\\nHurl the dark Lull along, scarce seen in dash-\\ning by.\\nLXXX.\\nSuch the ungentle sport that oft invites\\nThe Spanish maid, and cheers the Spanish\\nswain\\nNurtured in blood betimes, his heart delights\\nIn vengeance, gloating on another s pain.\\nWhat private feuds the troubled village stain\\nThough now one phalanx d host should meet\\nthe foe.", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0067.jp2"}, "68": {"fulltext": "60 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nEnough, alas, in humble homes remain,\\nTo meditate gainst friends the secret blow,\\nFor some slight cause of wrath, whence life s\\nwarm stream must flow.\\nLXXXI.\\nBut Jealousy has fled: his bars, his bolts,\\nHis withered sentinel, Duenna sage!\\nAnd all whereat the generous soul revolts,\\nWhich the stern dotard deem d he could en-\\ncage,\\nHave pass d to darkness with the vanish d\\nage.\\nWho late so free as Spanish girls were seen\\n(Ere War uprose in his volcanic rage),\\nWith braided tresses bounding o er the\\ngreen,\\nWhile on the gay dance shone Night s lover-\\nloving Queen.\\nLXXXII.\\nOh! many a time and oft had Harold loved,\\nOr dream d he loved, since rapture is a\\ndream\\nBut now his wayward bosom was unmoved,\\nFor not yet had he drunk of Lethe s stream\\nAnd lately had he learn d with truth to deem\\nLove has no gift so grateful as his wings:", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0068.jp2"}, "69": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 61\\nHow fair, how young, how soft soe er he\\nseem,\\nFull from the fount of Joy s delicious springs\\nSome bitter o er the flowers its bubbling\\nvenom flings.\\nLXXXI1I.\\nYet to the beauteous form he was not blind,\\nThough now it moved him as it moves the\\nwise\\nNot that Philosophy on such a mind\\nE er deign d to bend her chastely-awful\\neyes;\\nBut Passion raves itself to rest, or flies;\\nAnd Vice, that digs her own voluptuous\\ntomb,\\nHad buried long his hopes, no more to rise:\\nPleasure s pall d victim! life-abhorring\\ngloom\\nWrote on his faded brow curst Cain s unresting\\ndoom.\\nLXXXIV.\\nStill he beheld, nor mingled with the\\nthrong;\\nBut view d them not with misanthropic hate;\\nFain would he now have join d the dance,\\nthe song;", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0069.jp2"}, "70": {"fulltext": "62 CH1LDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nBut who may smile that sinks beneath his\\nfate?\\nNaught that he saw his sadness could abate:\\nYet once he struggled gainst the demon s\\nsway,\\nAnd as in Beauty s bower he pensive sate,\\nPour d forth this unpremeditated lay,\\nTo charms as fair as those that soothed his\\nhappier day.\\nTO INEZ.\\nNay, smile not at my sullen brow;\\nAlas! I cannot smile again:\\nYet Heaven avert that ever thou\\nShouldst weep, and haply weep in vain.\\nAnd dost thou ask what secret woe\\nI bear, corroding joy and youth?\\nAnd wilt thou vainly seek to know\\nA pang even thou must fail to soothe?\\nIt is not love, it is not hate,\\nNor low Ambition s honors lost\\nThat bids me loathe my present state\\nAnd fly from all I prized the most:\\nIt is that weariness which springs\\nFrom all I meet or hear or see\\nTo me no pleasure Beauty brings;\\nThine eyes have scarce a charm for me.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0070.jp2"}, "71": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 63\\nIt is that settled, ceaseless gloom\\nThe fabled Hebrew wanderer bore,\\nThat will not look beyond the tomb,\\nBut cannot hope for rest before.\\nWhat Exile from himself can flee?\\nTo zones, though more and more remote,\\nStill, still pursues, where er I be,\\nThe blight of life\u00e2\u0080\u0094 the demon Thought.\\nYet others rapt in pleasure seem,\\nAnd taste of all that I forsake\\nOh may they still of transport dream,\\nAnd ne er, at least like me, awake!\\nThrough many a clime tis mine to go,\\nWith many a retrospection curst\\nAnd all my solace is to know,\\nWhate er betides, I ve known the worst.\\nWhat is that worst? Nay, do not ask\\nIn pity from the search forbear:\\nSmile on nor venture to unmask\\nMan s heart, and view the Hell that s\\nthere.\\nLXXXV.\\nAdieu, fair Cadiz! yea, a long adieu!\\nWho may forget how well thy walls have\\nstood?", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0071.jp2"}, "72": {"fulltext": "64 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nWhen all were changing, thou alone wert\\ntrue,\\nFirst to be free, and last to be subdued.\\nAnd if amidst a scene, a shock so rude,\\nSome native blood was seen thy streets to\\ndye,\\nA traitor only fell beneath the feud:\\nHere all were noble, save nobility;\\nNone hugg d a conqueror s chain save fallen\\nChivalry!\\nLXXXVI.\\nSuch be the sons of Spain, and strange her\\nfate!\\nThey fight for freedom who were never free;\\nA kingless people for a nerveless state,\\nHer vassals combat when their chieftains\\nflee,\\nTrue to the veriest slaves of Treachery;\\nFond of a land which gave them naught\\nbut life,\\nPride points the path that leads to liberty;\\nBack to the struggle, baffled in the strife,\\nWar, war is still the cry, t; War even to the\\nknife! f\\nAlluding to the conduct and death of Solano, the governor\\nof Cadiz, in May, 1809.\\nt Palafox s answer to the French general at the siege of\\nSarf (?oza.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0072.jp2"}, "73": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE\\n67\\nxci.\\nAnd thou, my friend! since unavailing woe\\nBursts from my heart, and mingles with the\\nstrain\\nHad the sword laid thee with the mighty low,\\nPride might forbid e en Friendship to com-\\nplain:\\nBut thus unlaurel d to descend in vain,\\nBy all forgotten, save the lonely breast,\\nAnd mix unbleeding with the boasted slain,\\nWhile glory crowns so many a meaner crest!\\nWhat hadst thou done, to sink so peacefullv to\\nrest?\\nXCII.\\nOh, known the earliest, and esteem d the\\nmost\\nDear to a heart where nought was left so\\ndear!\\nThough to my hopeless days forever lost,\\nIn dreams deny me not to see thee here!\\nAnd Morn in secret shall renew the tear\\nOf Consciousness awaking to her woes,\\nAnd Fancy hover o er thy bloodless bier,\\nTill my frail frame return to whence it rose,\\nAnd mourned and mourner lie united in repose.", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0073.jp2"}, "74": {"fulltext": "68 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nxcm.\\nHere is one fytte of Harold s pilgrimage.\\nYe who of him may further seek to know,\\nShall find some tidings in a future page,\\nIf he that rhymeth now may scribble mo e.\\nIs this too much? Stern Critic, say not so:\\nPatience! and ye shall hear what he beheld\\nIn other lands, where he was doom d to go:\\nLands that contain the monuments of Eld,\\nEre Greece and Grecian arts by barbarous\\nhands were quell d.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0074.jp2"}, "75": {"fulltext": "CANTO THE SECOND.\\ni.\\nCome, blue-eyed maid of heaven! but thou,\\nalas.\\nDidst never yet one mortal song- inspire\\nGoddess of Wisdom! here thy temple was,\\nAnd is, despite of war and wasting fire,*\\nAnd years, that bade thy worship to expire\\nBut worse than steel, and flame, and a^es\\nslow,\\nIs the drear sceptre and dominion dire\\nOf men who never felt the sacred glow\\nThat thoughts of thee and thine on polish d\\nbreasts bestow.\\nii.\\nAncient of days! august Athena! where.\\nWhere are thy men of might, thy grand in\\nsoul?\\nGone glimmering- through the dream of\\nthings that were:\\nFirst in the race that led to Glory s goal,\\nPart of the Acropolis was destroyed by the explosion of a\\nmagazine during the Venetian siege.", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0075.jp2"}, "76": {"fulltext": "70 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nThey won, and passed away is this the\\nwhole?\\nA schoolboy s tale, the wonder of an hour!\\nThe warrior s weapon and the sophist s\\nstole\\nAre sought in vain, and o er each moulder-\\ning tower.\\nDim with the mist of years, grey flits the\\nshade of power.\\nin.\\nSon of the morning, rise approach you here\\nCome but molest not yon defenceless urn!\\nLook on this spot a nation s sepulchre!\\nAbode of gods, whose shrines no longer\\nburn.\\nEven gods must yield religions take their\\nturn:\\nTwas Jove s it s Mahomet s; and other\\ncreeds\\nWill rise with other years, till man shall\\nlearn\\nVainly his incense soars, his victim bleeds:\\nPoor child of Doubt and Death, whose hope is\\nbuilt on reeds.\\nIV.\\nBound to the earth, he lifts his eyes to\\nheaven", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0076.jp2"}, "77": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 71\\nIs t not enough, unhappy thing, to know\\nThou art? Is this a boon so kindly given,\\nThat being, thou wouldst be again, and go,\\nThou know st not, reck st not to what\\nregion, so\\nOn earth no more, but mingled with the skies!\\nStill wilt thou dream on future joy and woe?\\nRegard and weigh yon dust before it flies:\\nThat little urn saith more than thousand hom-\\nilies.\\nv.\\nOr burst thevanish d Hero s lofty mound;\\nFar on the solitary shore he sleeps;\\nHe fell, and falling nations mourn d around;\\nBut now not one of saddening thousands\\nweeps,\\nNor warlike worshipper his vigil keeps\\nWhere demi-godsappear d, as records tell.\\nRemove yon scull from out the scatter d\\nheaps:\\nIs that a temple where a God may dwell?\\nWhy, even the worm at last disdains her\\nshatter d cell!\\nIt was not always the custom of the Greeks to burn their\\ndead; the greater Ajax, in particular, was interred entire.\\nAlmost all the chiefs became gods after their decease; and he\\nwas indeed neglected who had not annual games near his tomb,\\nor festivals in honor of his memory by his countrymen, as\\nAchilles, Brasidas, etc., and at last even Antinous, whose death\\nwas as heroic as his life was infamous.", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0077.jp2"}, "78": {"fulltext": "72 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nVI.\\nLook on its broken arch, its ruin d wall,\\nIts chambers desolate, and portals foul:\\nYes, this was once Ambition s airy hall,\\nThe dome of Thought, the palace of the\\nSoul.\\nBehold through each lack-lustre, eyeless hole,\\nThe gay recess of Wisdom and of Wit,\\nAnd Passion s host, that never brook d con-\\ntrol\\nCan all saint, sage, or sophist ever writ,\\nPeople this lonely tower, this tenement refit?\\nVII.\\nWell didst thou speak, Athena s wisest son!\\nAll that we know is, nothing can be known.\\nWhy should we shrink from what we cannot\\nshun\\nEach hath its pang, but feeble sufferers\\ngroan\\nWith brain-born dreams of evil all their own.\\nPursue what Chance or Fact proclaimeth\\nbest;\\nPeace waits us on the shores of Acheron\\nThere no forced banquet claims the sated\\nguest,\\nBut Silence spreads the couch of ever-welcome\\nrest.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0078.jp2"}, "79": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 73\\nVIII.\\nYet if, as holiest men have deem d, there be\\nA land of souls beyond that sable shore,\\nTo shame the doctrine of the Sadducee\\nAnd sophists, madly vain of dubious lore\\nHow sweet it were in concert to adore\\nWith those who made our mortal labors\\nlight!\\nTo hear each voice we fear d to hear no\\nmore\\nBehold each mighty shade reveal d to sight.\\nThe Bactrian, Samian sage, and all who taught\\nthe right!\\nIX.\\nThere, thou! whose love and life together\\nfled,\\nHave left me here to love and live in vain\\nTwined with my heart, and can I deem thee\\ndead,\\nWhen busy memory flashes on my brain?\\nWell I will dream that we may meet again,\\nAnd woo the vision to my vacant breast:\\nIf aught of young Remembrance then re-\\nmain,\\nBe as it may Futurity s behest,\\nFor me twere bliss enough to know thy\\nspirit blest!", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0079.jp2"}, "80": {"fulltext": "74 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nx.\\nHere let me sit upon this massy stone,\\nThe marble column s yet unshaken base!\\nHere, son of Saturn, was thy favorite\\nthrone!*\\nMightiest of many such! Hence let me trace\\nThe latent grandeur of thy dwelling-place.\\nIt may not be; nor even can Fancy s eye\\nRestore what time hath labor d to deface.\\nYet these proud pillars claim no passing sigh\\nUnmoved the Moslem sits, the light Greek\\ncarols by.\\nXI.\\nBut who, of all the plunderers of yon fane\\nOn high, where Pallas linger d, loth to flee,\\nThe latest relic of her ancient reign\\nThe last, the worst, dull spoiler, who was\\nhe?\\nBlush, Caledonia! such thy son could be!\\nEngland! I joy no child he was of thine:\\nThy free-born men should spare what once\\nwas free\\nYet they could violate each saddening\\nshrine,\\nThe temple of Jupiter Olympius, of which sixteen columns,\\nentirely of marble, yet survive: originally there were one hun-\\ndred and fifty. These columns, however, are by many sup-\\nposed to have belonged to the Pantheon.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0080.jp2"}, "81": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 75\\nAnd bear these altars o er the long reluctant\\nbrine.\\nXII.\\nBut most the modern Pict s ignoble boast,\\nTo rive what Goth, and Turk, and Time\\nhath spared:\\nCold as the crags upon his native coast,\\nHis mind as barren and his heart as hard,\\nIs he whose head conceived, whose hand\\nprepared,\\nAught to displace Athena s poor remains:\\nHer sons too weak the sacred shrine to\\nguard,\\nYet felt some portion of their mother s pains,\\nAnd never knew, till then, the weight of Des-\\npot s chains.\\nXIII.\\nWhat! shall it e er be said by British tongue\\nAlbion was happy in Athena s tears?\\nThough in thy name the slaves her bosom\\nwrung,\\nTell not the deed to blushing Europe s ears;\\nThe ocean queen, the free Britannia, bears\\nThe last poor plunder from a bleeding land:\\nYes, she, whose generous aid her name en-\\ndears,", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0081.jp2"}, "82": {"fulltext": "76 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nTore down those remnants with a harpy s\\nhand,\\nWhich envious Eld forbore, and Tyrants left\\nto stand.\\nXIV.\\nWhere was thine \u00c2\u00a32gis, Pallas, that appall d\\nStern Alaric and Havoc on their way?*\\nWhere Peleus son? whom Hell in vain en-\\nthrall d,\\nHis shade from Hades upon that dread day\\nBursting to light in terrible array!\\nWhat! could not Pluto spare the chief once\\nmore,\\nTo scarce a second robber from his prey?\\nIdly lie wander d on the Stygian shore,\\nNor now preserved the walls he loved to\\nshield before.\\nxv.\\nCold is the heart, fair Greece, that looks on\\nthee,\\nNor feels as lovers o er the dust they loved;\\nDull is the eye that will not weep to see\\nThy walls defaced, thy mouldering shrines\\nremoved\\nBv British hands, which it had best behoved\\nAccording to Zosimus, Minerva and Achilles frightened Ala-\\nric from the Acropolis; but others relate that the Gothic king\\nwas nearly as mischievous as the Scottish peer.\u00e2\u0080\u0094 See Chandler.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0082.jp2"}, "83": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 77\\nTo guard those relics ne er to be restored.\\nCurst be the hour when from their isle they\\nroved,\\nAnd once again thy hapless bosom gored,\\nAnd snatch d thy shrinking gods to northern\\nclimes abhorr d!\\nXVI.\\nBut where is Harold? shall I then forget\\nTo urge the gloomy wanderer o er the wave?\\nLittle reck d he of all that men regret;\\nNo loved one now in feign d lament could\\nrave\\nNo friend the parting hand extended gave,\\nEre the cold stranger pass d to other climes.\\nHard is his heart whom charms may not en-\\nslave\\nBut Harold felt not as in other times,\\nAnd left without a sigh the land of war and\\ncrimes.\\nXVII.\\nHe that has sail d upon the dark blue sea,\\nHas view d at times, I ween, a full fair sight;\\nWhen the fresh breeze is fair as breeze\\nmay be,\\nThe white sails set, the gallant frigate tight,\\nMasts, spires, and strand retiring to the\\nright,", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0083.jp2"}, "84": {"fulltext": "78 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nThe glorious main expanding o er the bow,\\nThe convoy spread like wild swans in their\\nflight,\\nThe dullest sailor wearing bravely now,\\nSo gaily curl the waves before each dashing\\nprow.\\nxvin.\\nAnd oh, the little warlike world within!\\nThe well-reeved guns, the netted canopy,*\\nThe hoarse command, the busy humming\\ndin,\\nWhen, at a word, the tops are mann d on\\nhigh:\\nHark to the Boatswain s call the cheering\\ncry,\\nWhile through the seaman s hand the tackle\\nglides;\\nOr schoolboy Midshipman that, standing by,\\nStrains his shrill pipe, as good or ill betides,\\nAnd well the docile crew that skillful urchin\\nguides.\\nXIX.\\nWhite is the glassy deck, without a stain,\\nWhere on the watch the staid Lieutenant\\nwalks:\\nTo prevent blocks or splinters from falling on deck during\\naction.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0084.jp2"}, "85": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE 79\\nLook on that part which sacred doth remain\\nFor the lone Chieftain, who majestic stalks,\\nSilent and fear d by all: not oft he talks\\nWith aught beneath him, if he would preserve\\nThat strict restraint, which broken, ever\\nbaulks\\nConquest and Fame: but Britons rarely\\nswerve\\nFrom law, however stern, which tends their\\nstrength to nerve.\\nxx.\\nBlow, swiftly blow, thou keel-compelling\\ngale,\\nTill the broad sun withdraws his lessening\\nray;\\nThen must the pennant-bearer slacken sail,\\nThat lagging barks may make their lazy way.\\nAh! grievance sore, and listless dull delay,\\nTo waste on sluggish hulks the sweetest\\nbreeze!\\nWhat leagues are lost before the dawn of\\nday,\\nThus loitering pensive on the willing seas,\\nThe flapping sail haul d down to halt for logs\\nlike these!", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0085.jp2"}, "86": {"fulltext": "80 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nXXI.\\nThe moon is up; by Heaven, a lovely eve!\\nLong streams of light o er dancing waves ex-\\npand;\\nNow lads on shore may sigh, and maids be-\\nlieve\\nSuch be our fate when we return to land\\nMeantime some rude Arion s restless hand\\nWakes the brisk harmony that sailors love:\\nA circle there of merry listeners stand,\\nOr to some well-known measure fcatly move,\\nThoughtless, as if on shore they still were free\\nto rove.\\nXXII.\\nThrough Calpe s straits survey the steepy\\nshore\\nEurope and Afric, on each other gaze\\nLands of the dark-eyed Maid and dusky\\nMoor,\\nAlike beheld beneath pale Hecate s blaze:\\nHow softly on the Spanish shore she plays\\nDisclosing rock, and slope, and forest brown\\nDistinct, though darkening with her waning\\nphase\\nBut Mauritania s giant-shadows frown,\\nFrom mountain-cliff to coast descending som-\\nbre down.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0086.jp2"}, "87": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 81\\nXXIII.\\nTis night, when Meditation bids us feel\\nWe once have loved, though love is at an\\nend:\\nThe heart, lone mourner of its baffled zeal,\\nThough friendless now, will dream it had a\\nfriend,\\nWho with the weight of years would wish to\\nbend,\\nWhen Youth itself survives young Love and\\nJoy?\\nAlas! when mingling souls forget to blend,\\nDeath hath but little left him to destroy!\\nAh, happy years! once more who would not\\nbe a boy?\\nxxiv.\\nThus bending o er the vessel s laving side,\\nTo gaze on Dian s wave-reflected sphere,\\nThe soul forgets her schemes of Hope and\\nPride,\\nAnd flies unconscious o er each backward\\nyear.\\nNone are so desolate but something dear,\\nDearer than self, possesses or possess d\\nA thought, and claims the homage of a tear;\\nA flashing pang! of which the weary breast\\nWould still, albeit in vain, the heavy heart\\ndivest.", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0087.jp2"}, "88": {"fulltext": "82 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nxxv.\\nTo sit on rocks, to muse o er flood and fell,\\nTo slowly trace the forest s shady scene,\\nWhere things that own not man s dominion\\ndwell,\\nAnd mortal foot hath ne er or rarely been\\nTo climb the trackless mountain all unseen,\\nWith the wild flock that never needs a fold\\nAlone o er steeps and foaming falls to lean:\\nThis is not solitude; tis but to hold\\nConverse with Nature s charms, and view her\\nstores unroll d.\\nXXVI.\\nBut midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of\\nmen,\\nTo hear, to see, to feel, and to possess,\\nAnd roam along, the world s tired denizen,\\nWith none who bless us, none whom we can\\nbless;\\nMinions of splendor shrinking from distress!\\nNone that, with kindred consciousness en-\\ndued.\\nIf we were not, would seem to smile the less\\nOf all that flatter d, follow d, sought, and\\nsued:\\nThis is to be alone; this, this is solitude!", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0088.jp2"}, "89": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 83\\nXXVII.\\nMore blest the life of godly Eremite,\\nSuch as on lonely Athos may be seen,\\nWatching at eve upon the giant height,\\nWhich looks o er waves so blue, skies so\\nserene,\\nThat he who there at such an hour hath\\nbeen,\\nWill wistful linger on that hallowed spot;\\nThen slowly tear him from the witching\\nscene,\\nSigh forth one wish that such had been his\\nlot,\\nThen turn to hate a world he had almost for-\\ngot.\\nXXVIII.\\nPass we the long, unvarying course, the\\ntrack\\nOft trod, that never leaves a trace behind\\nPass we the calm, the gale, the change, the\\ntack,\\nAnd each well-known caprice of wave and\\nwind\\nPass we the joys and sorrows sailors find,\\nCooped in their winged sea-girt citadel\\nThe foul, the fair, the contrary, the kind,\\nAs breezes rise and fall, and billows swell,", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0089.jp2"}, "90": {"fulltext": "84 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nTill on some jocund morn lo, land! and all is\\nwell.\\nXXIX.\\nBut not in silence pass Calypso s isles,*\\nThe sister tenants of the middle deep;\\nThere for the weary still a haven smiles,\\nThough the fair goddess long hath ceased to\\nweep,\\nAnd o er her cliffs a fruitless watch to keep\\nFor him who dared prefer a mortal bride;\\nHere, too, his boy essay d the dreadful leap\\nStern Mentor urged from high to yonder\\ntide;\\nWhile thus of both bereft, the nymph-queen\\ndoubly sigh d.\\nxxx.\\nHer reign is past, her gentle glories gone:\\nBut trust not this: too easy youth, beware!\\nA mortal sovereign holds her dangerous\\nthrone,\\nAnd thou may st find a new Calypso there.\\nSweet Florence! could another ever share\\nThis wayward, loveless heart, it would be\\nthine\\nBut check d by every tie, I may not dare\\nTo cast a worthless offering at thy shrine,\\nGoza is said to have been the island of Calypso.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0090.jp2"}, "91": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 85\\nNor ask so dear a breast to feel one pang for\\nmine.\\nXXXI.\\nThus Harold deem d, as on that lady s eye\\nHe look d, and met its beam without a\\nthought,\\nSave Admiration glancing harmless by\\nLove kept aloof, albeit not far remote,\\nWho knew his votary often lost and caught,\\nBut knew him as his worshipper no more,\\nAnd ne er again the boy his bosom sought:\\nSince now he vainly urged him to adore,\\nWell deem d the little god his ancient sway\\nwas o er.\\nXXXII.\\nFair Florence found, in sooth with some\\namaze,\\nOne who, twas said, still sigh d to all he\\nsaw,\\nWithstand, unmoved, the lustre of her gaze,\\nWhich others hail d with real or mimic awe,\\nTheir hope, their doom, their punishment,\\ntheir law:\\nAll that gay Beauty from her bondsmen\\nclaims\\nAnd much she marvel d that a youth so raw", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0091.jp2"}, "92": {"fulltext": "86 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nNor felt, nor feign d at least, the oft-told\\nflames,\\nWhich, though sometimes they frown, yet\\nrarely anger dames.\\nXXXIII.\\nLittle knew she that seeming marble heart,\\nNow mask d by silence or withheld by pride,\\nWas not unskilful in the spoiler s art,\\nAnd spread its snares licentious far and wide\\nNor from the base pursuit had turn d aside,\\nAs long as naught was worthy to pursue\\nBut Harold on such arts no more relied\\nAnd had he doted on those eyes so blue,\\nYet never would he join the lover s whining\\ncrew.\\nXXXIV.\\nNot much he kens. I ween, of woman s\\nbreast.\\nWho thinks that wanton thing is won by\\nsighs:\\nWhat careth she for hearts when once pos-\\nsessed?\\nDo proper homage to thine idol s eyes,\\nBut not too humbly, or she will despise\\nThee and thy suit, though told in moving\\ntropes;\\nDisguise even tenderness, if thou art wise;", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0092.jp2"}, "93": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 87\\nBrisk Confidence still best with woman copes\\nPique her and soothe in turn, soon Passion\\ncrowns thy hopes.\\nxxxv.\\nTis an old lesson Time approves it true,\\nAnd those who know it best deplore it most\\nWhen all is won that all desire to woo,\\nThe paltry prize is hardly worth the cost:\\nYouth wasted, minds degraded, honor lost,\\nThese are thy fruits, successful Passion!\\nthese!\\nIf, kindly cruel, early hope is crost,\\nStill to the last it rankles, a disease,\\nNot to be cured when Love itself forgets to\\nplease.\\nxxxvi.\\nAway! nor let me loiter in my song,\\nFor we have many a mountain path to tread,\\nAnd many a varied shore to sail along,\\nBy pensive Sadness, not by Fiction, led\\nClimes, fair withal as ever mortal head\\nImagined in its little schemes of thought;\\nOr e er in new Utopias were read,\\nTo teach man what he might be, or he ought\\nIf that corrupted thing could ever such be\\ntaught.", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0093.jp2"}, "94": {"fulltext": "88 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nXXXVII.\\nDear Nature is the kindest mother still;\\nThough always changing, in her aspect mild:\\nFrom her bare bosom let me take my fill,\\nHer never-weaned, though not her favor d\\nchild.\\nOh! she is fairest in her features wild\\nWhere nothing polish d dares pollute her\\npath:\\nTo me by day or night she ever smil d,\\nThough I have marked her when none other\\nhath,\\nAnd sought her more and more, and loved\\nher best in wrath.\\nXXX VI II.\\nLand of Albania! where Iskander rose;\\nTheme of the young, and beacon of the wise.\\nAnd he his namesake, whose oft-baffled foes\\nShrunk from his deeds of chivalrous emprise:\\nLand of Albania let me bend mine eyes\\nOn thee, thou rugged nurse of savage men\\nThe cross descends, thy minarets arise,\\nAnd the pale crescent sparkles in the glen,\\nThrough many a cypress grove within each\\ncity s ken.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0094.jp2"}, "95": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 89\\nxxxix.\\nChilde Harold sail d, and pass d the barren\\nspot\\nWhere sad Penelope o erlook d the wave;*\\nAnd onward view d the mount, not yet\\nforgot,\\nThe lover s refuge, and the Lesbian s grave.\\nDark Sappho! could not verse immortal save\\nThat breast imbued with such immortal fire?\\nCould she not live who life eternal gave?\\nIf life eternal may await the lyre,\\nThat only Heaven to which Earth s children\\nmay aspire.\\nXL.\\nTwas on a Grecian autumn s gentle eve,\\nChilde Harold hail d Leucadia s cape afar;f\\nA spot he long d to see, nor cared to leave:\\nOft did he mark the senses of vanish d war,\\nActium, Lepanto, fatal Trafalgar :J\\nMark them unmoved, for he would not\\ndelight\\n(Born beneath some remote inglorious star)\\nIn themes of bloody fray, or gallant fight,\\n*Ithaca.\\nfLeucadia, now Santa Maura. From the promontory (the\\nLover s Leap) Sappho is said to have thrown herself.\\niActium and Trafalgar need no further mention. The battle\\nof Lepanto, equally bloody and considerable but less known,\\nwas fought in the gulf of Patras. Here the author of Don\\nQuixote lost his left hand.", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0095.jp2"}, "96": {"fulltext": "00 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nBut loath d the bravo s trade, and laugh d at\\nmartial wight.\\nXLI.\\nBut when he saw the evening star above\\nLeucadia s far-projecting rock of woe,\\nAnd hail d the last resort of fruitless love,\\nHe felt, or deem d he felt, no common glow:\\nAnd as the stately vessel glided slow\\nBeneath the shadow of that ancient mount,\\nHe watch d the billows melancholy flow,\\nAnd, sunk albeit in thought as he was wont,\\nMore placid seem d his eye, and smooth his\\npallid front.\\nXL1I.\\nMorn dawns; and with it stern Albania s\\nhills,\\nDark Suli s rocks, and Pindus inland peak,\\nRobed half in mist, bedew d with snowy rills,\\nArray d in many a dun and purple streak,\\nArise; and, as the clouds along them break,\\nDisclose the dwelling of the mountaineer;\\nHere roams the wolf, the eagle whets his\\nbeak,\\nBirds, beasts of prey, and wilder men appear,\\nAnd gathering storms around convulse the\\nclosing year.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0096.jp2"}, "97": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 91\\nXLIII.\\nNow Harold felt himself at length alone,\\nAnd bade to Christian tongues a long adieu:\\nNow he adventured on a shore unknown,\\nWhich all admire, but many dread to view:\\nHis breast was arm d gainst fate, his wants\\nwere few:\\nPeril he sought not, but ne er shrank to\\nmeet:\\nThe scene was savage, but the scene was\\nnew\\nThis made the ceaseless toil of travel sweet,\\nBeat back keen winter s blast, and welcomed\\nsummer s heat.\\nXLIV.\\nHere the red cross, for still the cross is\\nhere,\\nThough sadly scoff d at by the circumcised,\\nForgets that pride to pamper d priesthood\\ndear;\\nChurchman and votary alike despised.\\nFoul Superstition! howsoe er disguised,\\nIdol, saint, virgin, prophet, crescent, cross,\\nFor whatsoever symbol thou art prized,\\nThou sacerdotal gain, but general loss!\\nWho from true worship s gold can separate\\nthy dross?", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0097.jp2"}, "98": {"fulltext": "92 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nXLV.\\nAmbracia s gulf behold, where once was lost\\nA world for woman, lovely, harmless thing!\\nIn yonder rippling bay, their naval host\\nDid many a Roman chief and Asian king*\\nTo doubtful conflict, certain slaughter bring:\\nLook where the second Caesar s trophies\\nrosc,f\\nNow, like the hands than rear d them, with-\\nering;\\nImperial anarchs, doubling human woes!\\nGod! was thy globe ordain d for such to win\\nand lose?\\nXLVI.\\nFrom the dark barriers of that rugged clime,\\nE en to the centre of Illyria s vales,\\nChilde Harold pass d o er many a mount\\nsublime,\\nThrough lands scarce noticed in historic\\ntales:\\nYet in famed Attica such lovely dales:\\nAre rarely seen; nor can fair Tempe boast\\nA charm they know not: loved Parnassus\\nfails,\\n*It is said that, on the day previous to the battle of Actium,\\nAntony had thirteen kings at his levee.\\nt Nicopolts, whose ruins are most extensive, is at some dis-\\ntance from Actium, where the wall of the Hippodrome survives\\nin a few fragments. These ruins are large masses of brickwork,\\nthe bricks of which are joined by interstices of mortar, as large\\nas the bricks themselves, and equally durable.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0098.jp2"}, "99": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 93\\nThrough classic ground, and consecrated\\nmost,\\nTo match some spots that lurk within this\\nlowering coast.\\nXLVII.\\nHe pass d bleak Pindus, Acherusia s lake,*\\nAnd left the primal city of the land,\\nAnd onward did his further journey take\\nTo greet Albania s chief, whose dread com-\\nmand f\\nIs lawless law for with a bloody hand\\nHe sways a nation, turbulent and bold\\nYet here and there some daring mountain-\\nband\\nDisdain his power, and from their rocky\\nhold\\nHurl their defiance far, nor yield, unless to\\ngold.\\n\u00e2\u0099\u00a6According to Pouqueville, the lake of Yanina: but Pouque-\\nville is always out.\\nt The celebrated Ali Pacha. Of this extraordinary man there\\nis an incorrect account in Pouqueville s Travels.\\nFive thousand Suliotes, among the rocks and in the castle\\nof Suli, withstood thirty thousand Albanians for eighteen years:\\nthe castle at last was taken by bribery. In this contest there were\\nseveral acts performed not unworthy of the better days of\\nGreece.", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0099.jp2"}, "100": {"fulltext": "94 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nXLVIII.\\nMonastic Zitza! from thy shady brow,*\\nThou small, but favor d spot of holy ground!\\nWhere er we gaze, around, above, below,\\nWhat rainbow tints, what magic charms are\\nfound\\nRock, river, forest, mountain all abound,\\nAnd bluest skies that harmonize the whole\\nBeneath, the distant torrent s rushing sound\\nTells where the volumed cataract doth roll\\nBetween those hanging rocks, that shock yet\\nplease the soul.\\nXLIX.\\nAmidst the grove that crowns yon tufted\\nhill,\\nWhich, were it not for many a mountain\\nnigh\\nRising in lofty ranks, and loftier still,\\nMight well itself be deem d of dignity,\\nThe convent s white walls glisten fair on\\nhigh;\\n\u00e2\u0099\u00a6The convent and village of Zitza are four hours journey\\nfrom Joannina, or Yanina, the capital of the pachalic. In the\\nvalley the river Kalamas (once the Acheron) flows, and not far\\nfrom Zitza forms a fine cataract. The situation is perhaps the\\nfinest in Greece, though the approach to Delvinachi and parts of\\nAcarnania and jEtolia may contest the palm. Delphi, Parnas-\\nsus, and, in Attica, even Cape Colonna and Port Raphti, are very\\ninferior; as also every scene in Ionia, or the Troad: I am almost\\ninclined to add, the approach to Constantinople; but, from the\\ndifferent features of the last, a comparison can hardly be made.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0100.jp2"}, "101": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 95\\nHere dwells the caloyer,* nor rude is he,\\nNor niggard of his cheer, the passer-by\\nIs welcomed still nor heedless will he flee\\nFrom hence, if he delight kind Nature s sheen\\nto see.\\nL.\\nHere in the sultriest season let him rest,\\nFresh is the green beneath those aged trees;\\nHere winds of gentlest wing will fan his\\nbreast,\\nFrom heaven itself he may inhale the breeze\\nThe plain is far beneath oh let him seize\\nPure pleasure while he can the scorching ray\\nHere pierceth not, impregnate with disease:\\nThen let his length the loitering pilgrim lay,\\nAnd gaze, untired, the morn, the noon, the\\neve away.\\nLI.\\nDusky and huge, enlarging on the sight,\\nNature s volcanic ampitheater,f\\nChimera s alps extend from left to right:\\nBeneath, a living valley seems to stir;\\nFlocks play, trees wave, streams flow, the\\nmountain fir\\nNodding above; behold black Acheron !f\\nThe Greek monks are so called.\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0fThe Chimariot mountains appear to have been volcanic.\\nJNow called Kalamas.", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0101.jp2"}, "102": {"fulltext": "96 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nOnce consecrated to the sepulchre.\\nPluto! if this be hell I look upon,\\nClose shamed Elysium s gates, my shade shall\\nseek for none.\\nLII.\\nNe city s towers pollute the lovely view;\\nL nseen is Yanina, though not remote,\\nYeil d by the screen of hills: here men are\\nfew,\\nScanty the hamlet, rare the lonely cot;\\nBut, peering down each precipice, the goat\\nBrowseth: and, pensive o er his scattered\\nflock,\\nThe little shepherd in his white capote*\\nDoth lean his boyish form along the rock,\\nOr in his cave awaits the tempest s short-lived\\nshock.\\nLXII.\\nOh where, Dodona, is thine aged grove,\\nProphetic fount, and oracle divine?\\nWhat valley echoed the response of Jove?\\nWhat trace remaineth of the Thunderer s\\nshrine?\\nAll, all forgotten and shall man repine\\nThat his frail bonds to fleeting life are broke?\\n*Albanese cloak.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0102.jp2"}, "103": {"fulltext": "Slowly he falls, amidst triumphant cries. Page 59.\\nchild,. Harold s Pilgrimage.", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0103.jp2"}, "104": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0104.jp2"}, "105": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 97\\nCease, fool! the fate of gods may well be\\nthine:\\nWouldst thou survive the marble or the oak,\\nWhen nations, tongues, and worlds must sink\\nbeneath the stroke?\\nLIV.\\nEpirus bounds recede, and mountains fail;\\nTired of upgazing still, the wearied eye\\nReposes gladly on as smooth a vale\\nAs ever Spring yelad in grassy dye\\nEven on a plain no humble beauties lie,\\nWhere some bold river breaks the lone ex-\\npanse,\\nAnd woods along the bank are waving high,\\nWhose shadows in the glassy waters dance,\\nOr with the moonbeam sleep in midnight s\\nsolemn trance.\\nLV.\\nThe sun had sunk behind vast Tomerit,*\\nThe Laos wide and fierce came roaring by;f\\nThe shades of wonted night were gathering\\nyet,\\nAnciently Mount Tomarus.\\nf The river Laos was full at the time the author passed it;\\nand, immediately above Tepaleen. was to the eye as wide as\\nthe Thames at Westminster\u00e2\u0080\u0094 at least in the opinion of the\\nauthor and his fellow-traveler. In the summer it must be much\\nnarrower. It certainly is the finest river in the Levant; neither\\nAchelous, Alpheus, Acheron, Scamander, nor Cayster, ap-\\nproached it in breadth or beauty.\\n7", "height": "2889", "width": "1848", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0105.jp2"}, "106": {"fulltext": "98 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nWhen, down the steep banks winding wearily\\nChilde Harold saw, like meteors in the sky,\\nThe glittering minarets of Tepalen,\\nWhose walls o erlook the stream and draw-\\ning nigh,\\nHe heard the busy hum of warrior-men\\nSwelling the breeze that sighed along the\\nlengthening glen.\\nLVI.\\nHe pass d the sacred Haram s silent tower,\\nAnd underneath the wide o erarching gate\\nSurvey d the dwelling of this chief of power,\\nWhere all around proclaim d his high estate.\\nAmidst no common pomp the despot sate,\\nWhile busy preparation shook the court\\nSlaves, eunuchs, soldiers, guests, and san-\\ntons wait;\\nWithin, a palace, and without a fort,\\nHere men of every clime appear to make\\nresort.\\nlvii.\\nRichly caparison d, a ready row\\nOf armed horse, and many a war-like store,\\nCircled the wide-extending court below;\\nAbove, strange groups adorned the corri-\\ndore;\\nAnd ofttimes through the area s echoing\\ndoor,", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0106.jp2"}, "107": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 99\\nSome high-capp d Tartar spurr d his steed\\naway\\nThe Turk, the Greek, the Albanian, and the\\nMoor,\\nHere mingled in their many-hued array,\\nWhile the deep war-drum s sound announced\\nthe close of day.\\nLVIII.\\nThe wild Albanian kirtled to his knee,\\nWith shawl-girt head and ornamented gun,\\nAnd gold-embroider d garments, fair to see:\\nThe crimson-scarfed men of Macedon;\\nThe Delhi with his cap of terror on,\\nAnd crooked glaive; the lively, supple\\nGreek\\nAnd swarthy Nubia s mutilated son,\\nThe bearded Turk, that rarely deigns to\\nspeak,\\nMaster of all around, too potent to be meek,.\\nLIX.\\nAre mix d conspicuous; some recline in\\ngroups,\\nScanning the motley scene that varies round\\nThere some grave Moslem to devotion\\nstoops,\\nAnd some that smoke, and some that play\\nare found;", "height": "2889", "width": "1807", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0107.jp2"}, "108": {"fulltext": "100 CHILUE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nHere the Albanian proudly treads the\\nground\\nHalf-whispering there the Greek is heard to\\nprate\\nHark! from the mosque the nightly solemn\\nsound,\\nThe Muezzin s call doth shake the minaret,\\nThere is no god but God! to prayer lo!\\nGod is great!\\nLX.\\nJust at this season Ramazani s fast\\nThrough the long day its penance did main-\\ntain.\\nBut when the lingering twilight hour was\\npast.\\nRevel and feast assumed the rule again:\\nNow all was bustle and the menial train\\nPrepared and spread the plenteous board\\nwithin\\nThe vacant gallery now seem d made in\\nvain,\\nBut from the chambers came the mingling\\ndin,\\nAs page and slave anon were passing out and\\nin.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0108.jp2"}, "109": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 101\\nLXI.\\nHere woman s voice is never heard: apart\\nAnd scarce permitted, guarded, veil d, to\\nmove,\\nShe yields to one her person and her heart,\\nTamed to her cage, nor feels a wish to rove j\\nFor, not unhappy in her master s love,\\nAnd joyful in a mother s gentlest cares,\\nBlest cares! all other feelings far above!\\nHerself more sweetly rears the babe she\\nbears,\\nWho never quits the breast, no meaner passion\\nshares.\\nLXII.\\nIn marble-paved pavilion, where a spring\\nOf living water from the center rose,\\nWhose bubbling did a genial freshness fling,\\nAnd soft voluptuous couches breathed repose,\\nAli reclined, a man of war and woes:\\nYet in his lineaments ye cannot trace,\\nWhile Gentleness her milder radiance throws\\nAlong that aged venerable face,\\nThe deeds that lurk beneath, and stain him\\nwith disgrace.\\nLXIII.\\nIt is not that yon hoary lengthening beard\\n111 suits the passions which belong to youth:", "height": "2889", "width": "1807", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0109.jp2"}, "110": {"fulltext": "102 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nLove conquers age so Hafiz hath averr d,\\nSo sings the Teian, and he sings in sooth\\nBut crimes that scorn the tender voice of\\nruth.\\nBeseeming all men ill, but most the man\\nIn years, have mark d him with a tiger s\\ntooth:\\nBlood follows blood, and through their mor-\\ntal span.\\nIn bloodier acts conclude those who with\\nblo \u00c2\u00bbd began.\\n1 XIV.\\nMid many things most new to ear and eye,\\nThe pilgrim rested here his weary feet,\\nAnd gazed around on Moslem luxury.\\nTill quickly wearied with that spacious seat\\nOf Wealth and Wantonness, the choice re-\\ntreat\\nOf sated Grandeur from the city s noise:\\nAnd were it humbler, it in sooth were sweet;\\nBut Peace abhurreth artificial joys,\\nAnd Pleasure, leagued with Pomp, the zest of\\nboth destroys.\\nLXV.\\nFierce are Albania s children, yet they lack\\nNot virtues, were those virtues more mature.\\nWhere is the foe that ever saw their back?", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0110.jp2"}, "111": {"fulltext": "CH1LDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE 103\\nWho can so well the toil of war endure?\\nTheir native fastnesses not more secure\\nThan they in doubtful time of troublous\\nneed:\\nTheir wrath how deadly! but their friend-\\nship sure.\\nWhen Gratitude or Valor bids them bleed,\\nUnshaken rushing on where er their chief\\nmay lead.\\nLXVI.\\nChilde Harold saw them in their chieftain s\\ntower,\\nThronging to war in splendor and success;\\nAnd after view d them, when, within their\\npower,\\nHimself awhile the victim of distress:\\nThat saddening hour when bad men hotlier\\npress\\nBut these did shelter him beneath their roof,\\nWhen less barbarians would have cheer d\\nhim less,\\nAnd fellow-countrymen have stood aloof*\\nIn aught that tries the heart how few with-\\nstand the proof!\\nAlluding to the wreckers of Cornwall.", "height": "2889", "width": "1807", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0111.jp2"}, "112": {"fulltext": "104 CHILDE HAROLDS PILGRIMAGE.\\nLXVII.\\nIt chanced that adverse winds once drove\\nhis bark\\nFull on the coast of Suli s shaggy shore,\\nWhen all around was desolate and dark\\nTo land was perilous, to sojourn more\\nYet for awhile the mariners forbore,\\nDubious to trust where treachery might lurk\\nAt length they ventured forth, though doubt-\\ning sore\\nThat those who loathe alike the Frank and\\nTurk\\nMight once again renew their ancient butcher-\\nwork.\\nLXVIII.\\nVain fear! the Suliotes stretch d the welcome\\nhand,\\nLed them o er rocks and past the dangerous\\nswamp.\\nKinder than polish d slaves, though not so\\nbland,\\nAnd piled the hearth, and wrung their gar-\\nments damp,\\nAnd fill d the bowl, and trimm d the cheer-\\nful lamp,\\nAnd spread their fare, though homely, all\\nthey had:", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0112.jp2"}, "113": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 105\\nSuch conduct bears Philanthropy s rare\\nstamp\\nTo rest the weary and to soothe the sad,\\nDoth lesson happier men, and shames at least\\nthe bad.\\nLXIX.\\nIt came to pass, that when he did address\\nHimself to quit at length this mountain\\nkind,\\nCombined marauders half-way barr d egress,\\nAnd wasted far and near with glaive and\\nbrand\\nAnd therefore did he take a trusty band\\nTo traverse Acarnania s forest wide,\\nIn war well season d, and with labors tann d,\\nTill he did greet white Achelous tide,\\nAnd from his farther bank ^Etolia s wolds\\nespied.\\nLXX.\\nWhere lone Utraikey forms its circling cove,\\nAnd weary waves retire to gleam at rest,\\nHow brown the foliage of the green hill s\\ngrove,\\nNodding at midnight o er the calm bay s\\nbreast,\\nAs winds come whispering lightly from the\\nwest,", "height": "2889", "width": "1807", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0113.jp2"}, "114": {"fulltext": "106 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nKissing, not ruffling, the blue deep s serene;\\nHere Harold was received a welcome guest;\\nNor did he pass unmoved the gentle scene,\\nFor many a joy could he from night s soft\\npresence glean.\\nLXXI.\\nOn the smooth shore the night-fires brightly\\nblazed,\\nThe feast was done, the red wine circling\\nfast,*\\nAnd he that unawares had there ygazed\\nWith gaping wonderment had stared aghast;\\nFor ere night s midmost, stillest hour was\\npast,\\nThe native revels of the troop began;\\nEach Palikar f his sabre from him cast,\\nAnd bounding hand in hand, man link d to\\nman,\\nYelling their uncouth dirge, long danced the\\nkirtled clan.\\nLXXII.\\nChilde Harold at a little distance stood,\\nAnd view d, but not displeased, the revelrie,\\nNor hated harmless mirth, however rude:\\nThe Albanian Mussulmans do not abstain from wine, and,\\nindeed very few of the others.\\nt Palikar. a general name for a soldier amongst the Greeks\\nand Albanese who speak Romaic; it means, properly, a lad.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0114.jp2"}, "115": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 107\\nIn sooth, it was no vulgar sight to see\\nTheir barbarous, yet their not indecent,\\nglee:\\nAnd as the flames along their faces gleam d,\\nTheir gestures nimble, dark eyes flashing\\nfree,\\nThe long wild locks that to their girdles\\nstream d,\\nWhile thus in concert they this lay half-sang,\\nhalf-screamed\\nTambourgi Tambourgi thy larum afar\\nGives hope to the valiant, and promise of\\nwar;\\nAll the sons of the mountains arise at the\\nnote,\\nChimariot, Illyrian, and dark Suliotelf\\nOh who is more brave than a dark Suliote,\\nIn his snowy camese and his shaggy capote?\\nTo the wolf and the vulture he leaves his wild\\nflock,\\nAnd descends to the plain like the stream\\nfrom the rock.\\nShall the sons of Chimari, who never forgive\\nThe fault of a friend, bid an enemy live?\\nDrummer.\\nt These stanzas are partly taken from different Albanese\\nongs, as far as I was able to make them out by the exposition\\n)f the Albanese in Romaic and Italian.", "height": "2889", "width": "1807", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0115.jp2"}, "116": {"fulltext": "108 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nLet those guns so unerring such vengeance\\nforego?\\nWhat mark is so fair as the breast of a foe?\\nMacedonia sends forth her invincible race\\nFor a time they abandon the cave and the\\nchase\\nBut those scarfs of blood-red shall be redder,\\nbefore\\nThe sabre is sheathed and the battle is o er.\\nThen the pirates of Parga that dwell by the\\nwaves,\\nAnd teach the pale Franks what it is to be\\nslaves.\\nShall leave on the beach the long galley and\\noar,\\nAnd track to his covert the captive on shore.\\nI ask not the pleasure that riches supply,\\nMy sabre shall win what the feeble must\\nbuy;\\nShall win the young bride with her long\\nflowing hair,\\nAnd many a maid from her mother shall\\ntear.\\nI love the fair face of the maid in her youth\\nHer caresses shall lull me, her music shall\\nsoothe", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0116.jp2"}, "117": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 109\\nLet her bring from her chamber the many-\\ntoned lyre,\\nAnd sing us a song on the fall of her sire.\\nRemember the moment when Previsa fell,*\\nThe shrieks of the conquer d, the conquer-\\nors yell:\\nThe roofs that we fired, and the plunder we\\nshared,\\nThe wealthy we slaughter d, the lovely we\\nspared.\\nI talk not of mercy, I talk not of fear;\\nHe neither must know who would serve the\\nVizier:\\nSince the days of our prophet the crescent\\nne er saw\\nA chief ever glorious like Ali Pashaw.\\nDark Muchtar his son to the Danube is sped,\\nLet the yellow-haired Giaours view his hor:\u00c2\u00bb\\ntail with dread\\nWhen his Delhis J come dashing in blood o er\\nthe banks,\\nHow few shall escape from the Muscovite\\nranks\\nIt was taken by storm from the French.\\nt Yellow is the epithet given to the Russians. Giaour: In-\\nfidel. Horsetail: the insignia of a Pasha.\\nHorsemen, answering to our forlorn hope.", "height": "2889", "width": "1807", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0117.jp2"}, "118": {"fulltext": "110 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nSelictar! tmsheath then our chief s scimitar;\\nTambourgi! thy larum gives promise of war.\\nYe mountains that see us descend to the shore,\\nShall view us as victors, or view us no more!\\nLXXIII.\\nFair Greece! sad relic of departed worth!\\nImmortal, though no more; though fallen,\\ngreat\\nWho now shall lead thy scatter d children\\nforth,\\nAnd long accustom d bondage uncreate?\\nNot such thy sons who whilome did await,\\nThe hopeless warriors of a willing doom,\\nIn bleak Thermopylae s sepulchral strait\\nOh, who that gallant spirit shall resume,\\nLeap from Eurotas banks, and call thee from\\nthe tomb?\\nI. XXIV.\\nSpirit of Freedom! when on Phylc s brow\\nThou satst with Thrasybulus and his train,\\nCouldst thou forebode the dismal hour which\\nnow\\nDims the green beauties of thine Attic plain?\\nNot thirty tyrants now enforce the chain,\\nSelictar, swordbearer.\\nt Phyle, which commands a beautiful view of Athens, has\\nstill considerable remains. It was seized by Thrasybulus prev-\\nious to the expulsion of the Thirty.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0118.jp2"}, "119": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. Ill\\nBut every carle can lord it o er thy land\\nNor rise thy sons, but idly rail in vain,\\nTrembling beneath the scourge of Turkish\\nhand,\\nFrom birth till death enslaved; in word, in\\ndeed, unmann d.\\nLXXV.\\nIn all save form alone, how changed and\\nwho\\nThat marks the fire still sparkling in each\\neye,\\nWho would but deem their bosom burn d\\nanew\\nWith thy unquenched beam, lost Liberty!\\nAnd many dream withal the hour is nigh\\nThat gives them back their fathers heritage:\\nFor foreign arms and aid they fondly sigh,\\nNor solely dare encounter hostile rage,\\nOr tear their name defiled from Slavery s\\nmournful page.\\nLXXVI.\\nHereditary bondsmen know ye not\\nWho would be free themselves must strike\\nthe blow?\\nBy their right arms the conquest must be\\nwrought!\\nWill Gaul or Muscovite redress ye? No!", "height": "2889", "width": "1807", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0119.jp2"}, "120": {"fulltext": "112 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nTrue, they may lay your proud despoilers\\nlow,\\nBut not for you will Freedom s altars flame.\\nShades of the Helots! triumph o er your foe:\\nGreece! change thy lords, thy state is still\\nthe same;\\nThy glorious day is o er, but not thy years of\\nshame.\\nLXXVII.\\nThe city won for Allah from the Giaour,\\nThe Giaour from Othman s race again may\\nwrest\\nAnd the Serai s impenetrable tower\\nReceive the fiery Frank, her former guest;\\nOr Wahab s rebel brood, who dared divest\\nThe prophet s tomb of all its pious spoil,\\nMay wind their path of blood along the West;\\nBut ne er will freedom seek this fated soil,\\nBut slave succeed to slave through years of\\nendless toil.\\nLXXVIII.\\nYet mark their mirth ere lenten days begin,\\nThat penance which their holy rites prepare\\nTo shrive from man his weight of mortal\\nsin,\\nWhen taken by the Latins, and retained for several years,\\nt Mecca and Medina were taken some time ago by the Waha-\\nbees, a sect yearly increasing.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0120.jp2"}, "121": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 113\\nBy daily abstinence and nightly prayer;\\nBut ere his sackcloth garb Repentance wear,\\nSome days of joyance are decreed to all,\\nTo take of pleasance each his secret share,\\nIn motley robe to dance at masking ball,\\nAnd join the mimic train of merry Carnival.\\nLXXIX.\\nAnd whose more rife with merriment than\\nthine,\\nO Stamboul! once the empress of their\\nreign?\\nThough turbans now pollute Sophia s shrine,\\nAnd Greece her very altars eyes in vain\\n(Alas her woes will still pervade my strain\\nGay were her minstrels once, for free her\\nthrong,\\nAll felt the common joy they now must feign\\nNor oft I ve seen such sight, nor heard such\\nsong,\\nAs woo d the eye and thrill d the Bosphorus\\nalong.\\nLXXX.\\nLoud was the lightsome tumult on the shore\\nOft Music changed, but never ceased her\\ntone,\\nAnd timely echo d back the measured oar,\\nAnd rippling waters made a pleasant moan", "height": "2889", "width": "1807", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0121.jp2"}, "122": {"fulltext": "114 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nThe Queen of tides on high consenting shone\\nAnd when a transient breeze swept o er the\\nwave,\\nTwas as if, darting from her heavenly\\nthrone,\\nA brighter glance her form reflected gave,\\nTill sparkling billows seem d to light the banks\\nthey lave.\\nLXXXI.\\nGlanced many a light caique along the foam,\\nDanced on the shore the daughters of the\\nland,\\nNo thought had man or maid of rest or home,\\nWhile many a languid eye and thrilling hand\\nExchanged the look few bosoms may with-\\nstand,\\nOr gently prest, return d the pressure still:\\nOil Love! young Love! bound in thy rosy\\nband,\\nLet sage or cynic prattle as he will,\\nThese hours, and only these, redeem d Life s\\nyears of ill!\\nLXXXII.\\nBut, midst the throng in merry masquerade,\\nLurk there no hearts that throb with secret\\npain,", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0122.jp2"}, "123": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 115\\nEven through the closest searment half-be-\\ntray d?\\nTo such the gentle murmurs of the main\\nSeem to re-echo all they mourn in vain\\nTo such the gladness of the gamesome crowd\\nIs source of wayward thought and stern dis-\\ndain\\nHow do they loathe the laughter idly loud,\\nknd long to change the robe of revel for the\\nshroud!\\nLXXXIII.\\nThis must he feel, the true-born son of\\nGreece,\\nIf Greece one true-born patriot can still\\nboast\\nNot such as prate of war, but skulk in peace,\\nThe bondsman s peace, who sighs for all he\\nlost,\\nYet with smooth smile his tyrant can accost,\\nAnd wield the slavish sickle, not the sword\\nAh, Greece! they love thee least who owe\\nthee most\\nTheir birth, their blood, and that sublime\\nrecord\\nOf hero sires, who shame thy now degenerate\\nhorde", "height": "2889", "width": "1807", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0123.jp2"}, "124": {"fulltext": "11G CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nLXXXIV.\\nAVhen riseth Lacedaemon s hardihood,\\nWhen Thebes Epaminondas rears again,\\nWhen Athens children are with hearts\\nendued,\\nWhen Grecian mothers shall give birth to\\nmen,\\nThen may st thou be restored; but not till\\nthen.\\nA thousand years scarce serve to form a state\\nAn hour may lay it in the dust: and when\\nCan man its shatter d splendor renovate,\\nRecall its virtues back, and vanquish Time and\\nFate?\\nLXXXV.\\nAnd yet how lovely in thine age of woe,\\nLand of lost gods and godlike men, art thou!\\nThy vales of evergreen, thy hills of snow,*\\nProclaim thee Nature s varied favorite now;\\nThy fanes, thy temples to the surface bow\\nCommingling slowly with heroic earth,\\nBroke by the share of every rustic plough:\\nSo perish monuments of mortal birth,\\nSo perish all in turn, save well-recorded Worth;.\\nOn many of the mountains, particularly Liakura, the snow\\nnever is entirely melted, notwithstanding the intense heat of the\\nsummer; but I never saw it lie on the plains, even in winter. t", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0124.jp2"}, "125": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 117\\nLXXXVI.\\nSave where some solitary column mourns\\nAbove its prostrate brethren of the cave\\nSave where Tritonia s airy shrine adorns\\nColonna s cliff, and gleams along the wave f\\nSave o er some warrior s half-forgotten grave\\nWhere the gray stones and unmolested grass\\nAges, but not oblivion, feebly brave,\\nOf Mount Pentelicus, from whence the marble was dug that\\nconstructed the public edifices of Athens. The modern name is\\nMount Mendeli. An immense cave formed by the quarries still\\nremains, and will till the end of time.\\nf In all Attica, if we except Athens itself and Marathon\\nthere is no scene more interesting than Cape Colonna. To the\\nantiquary and artist, sixteen columns are an inexhaustible\\nsource of observation and design; to the philosopher, the sup-\\nposed scene of some of Plato s conversations will not be unwel-\\ncome; and the traveler will be struck with the beauty of the\\nprospect over isles that crown the iEgian deep; but, for an\\nEnglishman, Colonna has yet an additional interest, as the actual\\nspot of Falconer s shipwreck. Pallas and Plato are forgotten, in\\nthe recollection of Falconer and Campbell:\\nHere in the dead of night by Lonna s steep,\\nThe seaman s cry was heard along the deep.\\nThis temple of Minerva may be seen at sea from a great distance.\\nIn two journeys which I made, and one voyage to Cape Colonna,\\nthe view from either side by land was more striking than the ap-\\nproach from the isles. In our second land excursion we had a\\nnarrow escape from a party of Mainotes concealed in the cav-\\nerns beneath. We were told afterwards by one of their pris-\\nones, subsequently ransomed, that they were deterred from\\nattacking us by the appearance of my two Albanians; conject-\\nuring very sagaciously, but falsely, that we had a complete\\nguard of these Araouts at hand, they remained stationary, and\\nthus saved our party, which was too small to have opposed any\\neffectual resistance. Colonna is no less a resort of painters than\\nof pirates: there\\nThe hireling artist plants his paltry desk,\\nAnd makes degraded nature picturesque.\\n(See Hodgson s Lady Jane Gray, etc.)\\nBut there Nature, with the aid of Art, has done that for herself.\\nI was fortunate enough to engage a very superior German artist,\\nand hope to renew my acquaintance with this and many other\\nLevantine scenes by the arrival of his performances.", "height": "2889", "width": "1807", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0125.jp2"}, "126": {"fulltext": "118 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nWhile strangers only not reg-ardless pass,\\nLingering, like me, perchance, to gaze, and\\nsigh 4l Alas!\\nLXXXVII.\\nYet are thy skies as blue, thy crags as wild\\nSweet are thy groves, and verdant are thy\\nfields,\\nThine olive ripe as when Minerva smiled,\\nAnd still his honey d wealth Hymettus\\nyields;\\nThere the blithe bee his fragrant fortress\\nbuilds,\\nThe freeborn wanderer of thy mountain air;\\nApollo still thy long, long summer gilds,\\nStill in his beam Mcndeli s marbles glare;\\nArt, Glory, Freedom fail, but Nature still is\\nfair.\\nLXXXVIII.\\nWhere er we tread, tis haunted, holy\\nground\\nNo earth of thine is lost in vulgar mould,\\nBut one vast realm of wonder spreads\\naround,\\nAnd all the Muse s tales seem truly told,\\nTill the sense aches with gazing to behold\\nThe scenes our earliest dreams have dwelt\\nupon", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0126.jp2"}, "127": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 119\\nEach hill and dale, each deepening glen and\\nwold,\\nDefies the power which crush d thy temples\\ngone:\\nAge shakes Athena s tower, but spares gray\\nMarathon.\\nLXXXIX.\\nThe sun, the soil, but not the slave, the\\nsame,\\nUnchanged in all except its foreign lord\\nPreserves alike its bounds and boundless\\nfame;\\nThe battle-field, where Persia s victim horde\\nFirst bow d beneath the brunt of Hellas\\nsword,\\nAs on the morn to distant Glory dear,\\nWhen Marathon became a magic word;\\nWhich utter d, to the hearer s eye appear\\nThe camp, the host, the fight, the conqueror s\\ncareer.\\nSiste Viator\u00e2\u0080\u0094 heroa calcas! was the epitaph on the\\nfamous Count Merci;\u00e2\u0080\u0094 what, then, must be our feelings when\\nstanding on the tumulus of the two hundred (Greeks) who fell\\non Marathon? The principal barrow has recently been opened\\nby Fauvel: few or no relics, as vases, etc., were found by the\\nexcavator. The plain of Marathon was offered to me for sale at\\nthe sum of sixteen thousand piastres, about nine hundred\\npounds! Alas! Expende\u00e2\u0080\u0094 quot hbras in duce summo\u00e2\u0080\u0094 in.\\nvenies! was the dust of Miltiades worth no more? It could\\nscarcely have fetched less if sold by weight.", "height": "2889", "width": "1807", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0127.jp2"}, "128": {"fulltext": "120 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nxc.\\nThe flying Mede, his shaftless broken bow;\\nThe fiery Greek, his red pursuing spear;\\nMountains above, Earth s, Ocean s plain\\nbelow\\nDeath in the front, Destruction in the rear!\\nSuch was the scene what now remaineth\\nhere?\\nWhat sacred trophy marks the hallow d\\nground,\\nRecording Freedom s smile and Asia s tear?\\nThe rifled urn, the violated mound,\\nThe dust thy courser s hoof, rude stranger!\\nspurns around.\\nxci.\\nYet to the remnants of thy splendor past\\nShall pilgrims, pensive, but unwearied,\\nthrong\\nLong shall the voyager, with the Ionian\\nblast,\\nHail the bright chime of battle and of song;\\nLong shall thine annals and immortal tongue\\nFill with thy fame the youth of many a\\nshore:\\nBoast of the aged! lesson of the young!\\nWhich sages venerate and. bards adore,\\nAs Pallas and the Muse unveil their awful lore.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0128.jp2"}, "129": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 121\\nxcn.\\nThe parted bosom clings to wonted home,\\nIf aught that s kindred cheer the welcome\\nhearth\\nHe that is lonely, hither let him roam,\\nAnd gaze complacent on congenial earth.\\nGreece is no lightsome land of social mirth\\nBut he whom sadness sootheth may abide,\\nAnd scarce regret the region of his birth,\\nWhen wandering slow by Delphi s sacred\\nside,\\nOr gazing o er the plains where Greek and\\nPersian died.\\nXCIII.\\nLet such approach this consecrated land,\\nAnd pass in peace along the magic waste\\nBut spare its relics let no busy hand\\nDeface the scenes, already how defaced!\\nNot for such purpose were these altars\\nplaced.\\nRevere the remnants nations once revered\\nSo may our country s name be undisgraced,\\nSo may st thou prosper where thy youth was\\nrear d,\\nBy every honest joy of love and life endear d!", "height": "2889", "width": "1807", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0129.jp2"}, "130": {"fulltext": "122 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nXCIV.\\nFor thee, who thus in too protracted song\\nHath soothed thine idlesse with inglorious\\nlays,\\nSoon shall thy voice be lost amid the throng\\nOf louder minstrels in these later days:\\nTo such resign the strife for fading bays\\n111 may such contest now the spirit move\\nWhich heeds nor keen reproach nor partial\\npraise,\\nSince cold each kinder heart that might\\napprove,\\nAnd none are left to please where none are\\nleft to love.\\nxcv.\\nThou too art gone, thou loved and lovely\\none!\\nWhom youth and youth s affections bound\\nto me\\nWho did for me what none beside have done,\\nNor shrank from one albeit unworthy thee.\\nWhat is my being? thou hast ceased to be!\\nNor stay d to welcome here thy wanderer\\nhome,\\nWho mourns o er hours which we no more\\nshall see", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0130.jp2"}, "131": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 125\\nWould they had never been, or were to\\ncome\\nWould he had ne er return d to find fresh\\ncause to roam!\\nxcvi.\\nOh! ever loving, lovely, and beloved!\\nHow selfish Sorrow ponders on the past,\\nAnd clings to thoughts now better far\\nremoved!\\nBut Time shall tear thy shadow from me\\nlast.\\nAll thou couldst have of mine, stern Death,\\nthou hast:\\nThe parent, friend, and now the more than\\nfriend;\\nNe er yet for one thine arrows flew so fast,\\nAnd grief with grief continuing still to blend,\\nHath snatch d the little joy that life had yet\\nto lend.\\nxcvn.\\nThen must I plunge again into the crowd,\\nAnd follow all that Peace disdains to seek\\nWhere Revel calls, and Laughter, vainly\\nloud,\\nFalse to the heart, distorts the hollow cheek,\\nTo leave the flagging spirit doubly weak!", "height": "2889", "width": "1807", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0131.jp2"}, "132": {"fulltext": "124 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nStill o er the features, which perforce they\\ncheer,\\nTo feign the pleasure or conceal the pique;\\nSmiles form the channel of a future tear.\\nOr raise the writhing lip with ill-dissembled\\nsneer.\\nXCV1II.\\nWhat is the worst of woes that wait on age?\\nWhat stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow?\\nTo view each loved one blotted from life s\\npage\\nAnd be alone on earth, as I am now.\\nBefore the Chastencr humbly let me bow,\\nO er hearts divided and o er hopes destroy d:\\nRoll on, vain days! full reckless may ye flow,\\nSince time hath reft whate er my soul\\nenjoy d,\\nAnd with the ills of Eld mine earlier years\\nalloy d.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0132.jp2"}, "133": {"fulltext": "CANTO THE THIRD.\\n1816.\\nAnn que cette application vous forcat de penseraautre\\nchose; il n y a ehverite de remede que celui la et le\\ntemps. Lettre du Roi de Prusse a D Alembert,\\nSept. 7, 1776-\\n1.\\nIs thy face like thy mother s, my fair child!\\n-Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart?\\nWhen last I saw thy young blue eyes, they\\nsmiled,\\nAnd then we parted,\u00e2\u0080\u0094 not as now we part,\\nBut with a hope.\\nAwaking with a start,\\nThe waters heave around me and on high\\nThe winds lift up their voices: I depart,\\nWhither I know not; but the hour s gone by,\\nWhen Albion s lessening shores could grieve\\nor glad mine eye.\\n11.\\nOnce more upon the waters! yet once more!\\nAnd the waves bound beneath me as a steed\\nThat knows his rider. Welcome to their\\nroar\\n125", "height": "2889", "width": "1807", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0133.jp2"}, "134": {"fulltext": "126 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nSwift be their guidance, wheresoe er it lead!\\nThough the strain d mast should quiver as\\na reed,\\nAnd the rent canvas fluttering strew the\\ngale,\\nStill must I on: for I am as a weed.\\nFlung from the rock, on Ocean s foam, to\\nsail\\nWhere er the surge may sweep, the tempest s\\nbreath prevail.\\nin.\\nIn tny youth s summer I did sing of One,\\nThe wandering outlaw of his own dark\\nm ind\\nAy;:. in I seize the theme, but begun,\\nAnd bear it with me, as the rushing wind\\nBears the cloud onwards: in that Tale I find\\nThe furrows of long thought, and dried-up\\ntears,\\nWhich, ebbing, leave a sterile track behind,\\nO er which all heavily the journeying years\\nPlod the last sands of life where not a flower\\nappears.\\niv.\\nSince my young days of passion joy, or\\npain,", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0134.jp2"}, "135": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 127\\nPerchance my heart and harp have lost a\\nstring,\\nAnd both may jar: it may be, that in vain\\nI would essay as I have sung to sing.\\nYet, though a dreary strain, to this I cling,\\nSo that it wean me from the weary dream\\nOf selfish grief or gladness so it fling\\nForgetfulness around me it shall seem\\nTo me, though to none else, a not ungrateful\\ntheme.\\nv.\\nHe who, grown aged in this world of woe,\\nIn deeds, not years, piercing the depths of\\nlife,\\nSo that no wonder waits him; nor below\\nCan love or sorrow, fame, ambition, strife,\\nCut to his heart again with the keen knife\\nOf silent, sharp endurance he can tell\\nWhy thought seeks refuge in lone eaves, yet\\nrife\\nWith airy images, and shapes which dwell\\nStill unimpair d, though old, in the soul s\\nhaunted cell.\\nVI.\\nTis to create, and in creating live\\nA being more intense, that we endow\\nWith form our fancy, gaining as we give", "height": "2889", "width": "1807", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0135.jp2"}, "136": {"fulltext": "128 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nThe life we image, even as I do now.\\nWhat am I? Nothing: but not so art thou,\\nSoul of my thought! with whom I traverse\\nearth,\\nInvisible but gazing, as I glow\\nMix d with thy spirit, blended with thy\\nbirth,\\n1 feeling -still with thee in my crush d feel-\\nings dearth.\\nVII.\\nYet must I think less wildly: I have thought\\nToo long and darkly, till my brain became,\\nIn its own eddy boiling and o erwrought,\\nA whirling gulf of phantasy and flame:\\nAnd thus, untaught in youth my heart to\\ntame,\\nMy springs of life were poison d. Tis too\\nlate\\nYet am I changed; though still enough the\\nsame\\nIn strength to bear what time can not abate,\\nAnd feed on bitter fruits without accusing Fate.\\nVIII.\\nSomething too much of this: but now tis\\npast,\\nAnd the spell closes with its silent seal.\\nLong-absent Harold reappears at last;", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0136.jp2"}, "137": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 129\\nHe of the breast which fain no more would\\nfeel,\\nWrung with the wounds which kill not, but\\nne er heal;\\nYet Time, who changes all, had alter d him\\nIn soul and aspect as in age years steal\\nFire from the mind as vigor from the limb\\nAnd life s enchanted cup but sparkles near the\\nbrim.\\nIX.\\nHis had been quaff d too quickly, and he\\nfound\\nThe dregs were wormwood; but he fill d\\nagain,\\nAnd from a purer fount, on holier ground,\\nAnd deem d its spring perpetual; but in\\nvain!\\nStill round him clung invisibly a chain\\nWhich gall d for ever, fettering though\\nunseen.\\nAnd heavy though it clank d not; worn with\\npain,\\nWhich pined although it spoke not, and\\ngrew keen,\\nEntering with every step he took through\\nmany a scene.", "height": "2889", "width": "1807", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0137.jp2"}, "138": {"fulltext": "130 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nSecure in guarded coldness, he had mix d\\nAgain in fancied safety with his kind,\\nAnd deem d his spirit now so firmly fix d\\nAnd sheath d with an invulnerable mind,\\nThat, if no joy, no sorrow lurk d behind;\\nAnd he, as one, might midst the many stand\\nUnheeded, searching through the crowd to\\nfind\\nFit speculation; such as in strange land\\nHe found in wonder-works of God and Nature s\\nhand.\\nXI.\\nBut who can view the ripen d rose, nor seek\\nTo wear it? who can curiously behold\\nThe smoothness and the sheen of beauty s\\ncheek,\\nNor feel the heart can never all grow old?\\nWho can contemplate Fame through clouds\\nunfold\\nThe star which rises o er her steep, nor\\nclimb?\\nHarold, once more within the vortex roll d\\nOn with the giddy circle, chasing Time,\\nYet with a nobler aim than in his youth s fond\\nprime.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0138.jp2"}, "139": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 131\\nXII.\\nBut soon he knew himself the most unfit\\nOf men to herd with man with whom he\\nheld\\nLittle in common untaught to submit\\nHis thoughts to others, though his soul was\\nquell d,\\nIn youth by his own thoughts still uncom-\\npell d,\\nHe would not yield dominion of his mind\\nTo spirits against whom his own rebell d;\\nProud though in desolation which could find\\nA life within itself, to breathe without man-\\nkind.\\nXIII.\\nWhere rose the mountains, there to him\\nwere friends;\\nWhere roll d the ocean, thereon was his\\nhome,\\nWhere a blue sky, and glowing clime,\\nextends,\\nHe had the passion and the power to roam;\\nThe desert, forest, cavern, breaker s foam,\\nWere unto him companionship they spake\\nA mutual language, clearer than the tone\\nOf his land s tongue, which he would oft\\nforsake", "height": "2889", "width": "1807", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0139.jp2"}, "140": {"fulltext": "132 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nFor Nature s pages glass d by sunbeams on the\\nlake.\\nXIV.\\nLike the Chaldean, he could watch the\\nstars,\\nTill he had peopled them with beings bright\\nAs their own beams; and earth, and earth-\\nborn jars,\\nAnd human frailties, were forgotten quite:\\nCould he have kept his spirit to that flight,\\nHe had been happy; but this clay will sink\\nIts spark immortal, envying it the light\\nTo which it mounts, as if to break the link\\nThat keeps us from yon heaven which woos us\\nto its brink.\\nxv.\\nBut in Man s dwellings he became a thing\\nRestless and worn, and stern and wearisome,\\nDroop d as a wild-born falcon with dipt wing,\\nTo whom the boundless air alone were home;\\nThen came his fit again, which to o ercome,\\nAs eagerly the barr d-up bird will beat\\nHis breast and beak against his wiry dome\\nTill the blood tinge his plumage, so the heat\\nOf his impeded soul would through his bosom\\neat.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0140.jp2"}, "141": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 133\\nXVI.\\nSelf-exiled Harold wanders forth again,\\nWith naught of hope left, but with less of\\ngloom\\nThe very knowledge that he lived in vain,\\nThat all was over on this side the tomb,\\nHad made Despair a smilingness assume,\\nWhich, though twere wild as on the plun-\\nder d wreck\\nWhen mariners would madly meet their\\ndoom\\nWith draughts intemperate on the sinking\\ndeck\\nDid yet inspire a cheer, which he forbore to\\ncheck.\\nXVII.\\nStop! for thy tread is on an Empire s dust!\\nAn Earthquake s spoil is sepulchred below!\\nIs the spot mark d with no colossal bust?\\nNor column trophied for triumphal show?\\nNone; but the moral s truth tells simpler so,\\nAs the ground was before, thus let it be\\nHow that red rain hath made the harvest\\ngrow\\nAnd is this all the world has gain d by thee,\\nThou first and last of fields! king-making\\nVictory?", "height": "2889", "width": "1807", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0141.jp2"}, "142": {"fulltext": "134 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nXVIII.\\nAnd Harold stands upon this place of skulls,\\nThe grave of France, the deadly Waterloo!\\nHow in an hour the power which gave, annuls\\nIts gifts, transferring fame as fleeting too!\\nIn pride of place here last the eagle flew,\\nThen tore with bloody talon the rent plain,\\nPierced by the shaft of banded nations\\nthrough\\nAmbition s life and labors all were vain;\\nHe wears the shatter d links of the world s\\nbroken chain.\\nXIX.\\nFit retribution Gaul may champ the bit,\\nAnd foam in fetters, but is Earth more free?\\nDid nations combat to make One submit;\\nOr league to teach all kings true sovereignty?\\nWhat! shall reviving thraldom again be\\nThe patch d-up idol of enlighten d days?\\nShall we, who struck the Lion down, shall\\nwe\\nPay the Wolf homage? proffering lowly gaze\\nAnd servile knees to thrones? No, prove\\nbefore ye praise!\\nIn pride of place is a term of falconry, and means the\\nhighest pitch of flight. See Macbeth, etc.\\nAn eagle towering in his pride of place, etc.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0142.jp2"}, "143": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE 135\\nxx.\\nIf not, e er one fallen despot boast no more!\\nIn vain fair cheeks were furrow d with hot\\ntears\\nFor Europe s flowers long rooted up before\\nThe trampler of her vineyards, in vain years\\nOf death, depopulation, bondage, fears,\\nHave all been borne, and broken by the accord\\nOf roused-up millions: all that most endears\\nGlory, is when the myrtle wreathes a sword\\nSuch as Harmodius drew on Athens tyrant\\nlord.\\nXXI.\\nThere was a sound of revelry by night,\\nAnd Belgium s capital had gather d then\\nHer Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright\\nThe lamps shone o er fair women and brave\\nmen;\\nA thousand hearts beat happily; and when\\nMusic arose with its voluptuous swell,\\nSoft eyes look d love to eyes which spake\\nagain,\\nAnd all went merry as a marriage bell ;f\\nSee the famous song on Harmodius and Aristogiton. The\\nbest English translation is in Bland s Anthology, by Mr. (now\\nLord Chief-Justice) Denman:\\nWith myrtle my sword will I wreathe, etc.\\nf On the night previous to the action, it is said that a ball was\\ngiven at Brussels.", "height": "2889", "width": "1807", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0143.jp2"}, "144": {"fulltext": "136 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nBut hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a\\nrising knell!\\nXXII.\\nDid ye not hear it? No twas but the wind,\\nOr the car rattling o er the stony street;\\nOn with the dance! let joy be unconfin d;\\nNo sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure\\nmeet\\nTo chase the glowing Hours with flying feet.\\nBut hark! that heavy sound breaks in once\\nmore,\\nAs if the clouds its echo would repeat\\nAnd nearer, clearer, deadlier than before!\\nArm! arm! it is it is the cannon s opening\\nroar!\\nXXIII.\\nWithin a window d niche of that high hall\\nSate Brunswick s fated chieftain; he did\\nhear\\nThat sound, the first amidst the festival,\\nAnd caught its tone with Death s prophetic\\near;\\nAnd when they smiled because he deem d it\\nnear,\\nHis heart more truly knew that peal too\\nwell", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0144.jp2"}, "145": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 137\\nWhich stretch d his father on a bloody bier,\\nAnd roused the vengeance blood alone could\\nquell\\nHe rush d into the field, and, foremost fight-\\ning, fell.\\nXXIV.\\nAh then and there was hurrying to and\\nfro,\\nAnd gathering tears, and tremblings of dis-\\ntress,\\nAnd cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago\\nBlush d at the praise of their own loveliness;\\nAnd there were sudden partings, such as\\npress\\nThe life from out young hearts, and choking\\nsighs\\nWhich ne er might be repeated: who would\\nguess\\nIf ever more should meet those mutual eyes,\\nSince upon night so sweet such awful morn\\ncould rise\\nxxv.\\nAnd there was mounting in hot haste the\\nsteed,\\nThe mustering squadron, and the clattering\\ncar,", "height": "2889", "width": "1807", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0145.jp2"}, "146": {"fulltext": "138 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nWent pouring forward with impetuous speed,\\nAnd swiftly forming in the ranks of war;\\nAnd the deep thunder peal on peal afar;\\nAnd near, the beat of the alarming drum\\nRoused up the soldier ere the morning star;\\nWhile throng d the citizens with terror\\ndumb,\\nOr whispering, with white lips The foe!\\nThey come! they come!\\nXXVI.\\nAnd wild and high the Cameron s gather-\\ning rose,\\nThe war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn s\\nhills\\nHave heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon\\nfoes:\\nHow in the noon of night that pibroch thrills\\nSavage and shrill! But with the breath\\nwhich fills\\nTheir mountain-pipe, so fill the mountaineers\\nWith the fierce native daring which instils\\nThe stirring memory of a thousand years,\\nAnd Evan s, Donald s fame rings in each\\nclansman s ears!*\\nSir Evan Cameron, and his descendant Donald, the gentle\\nLochiel of the forty-five.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0146.jp2"}, "147": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 139\\nXXVII.\\nAnd Ardennes waves above them her green\\nleaves,*\\nDewy with Nature s tear-drops, as they pass,\\nGrieving, if aught inanimate e er grieves,\\nOver the unreturning brave, alas!\\nEre evening to be trodden like the grass\\nWhich now beneath them, but above shall\\ngrow\\nIn its next verdure, when this fiery mass\\nOf living valor, rolling on the foe,\\nAnd burning with high hope, shall moulder\\ncold and low.\\nXXVIII.\\nLast noon beheld them full of lusty life,\\nLast eve in Beauty s circle proudly gay,\\nThe midnight brought the signal- sound of\\nstrife,\\nThe morn the marshalling in arms, the day\\nBattle s magnificently stern array!\\nThe thunder-clouds close o er it, which when\\nrent\\nThe earth is cover d thick with other clay,\\nThe wood of Soignies is supposed to be a remnant of the for-\\nest of Ardennes, famous in Boiardo s Orlando, and immortal in\\nShakespeare s As You Like It. It is also celebrated in Tacitus,\\nas being the spot of successful defense by the Germans against\\nthe Roman encroachments. I have ventured to adopt the name\\nconnected with nobler associations than those of mere slaughter.", "height": "2889", "width": "1807", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0147.jp2"}, "148": {"fulltext": "140 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nWhich her own clay shall cover, heap d and\\npent,\\nRider and horse, friend, foe, in one red\\nburial blent!\\nXXIX.\\nTheir praise is hymn d by loftier harps than\\nmine;\\nYet one I would select from that proud\\nthrong,\\nPartly because they blend me with his line,\\nAnd partly that I did his sire some wrong,\\nAnd partly that bright names will hallow\\nsong;\\nAnd his was of the bravest, and when\\nshower d\\nThe death-bolts deadliest the thinn d files\\nalong,\\nEven where the thickest of war s tempest\\nlower d,\\nThey reach d no nobler breast than thine,\\nyoung, gallant Howard!\\nxxx.\\nThere have been tears and breaking hearts\\nfor thee,\\nAnd mine were nothing, had I such to give\\nBut when I stood beneath the fresh green\\ntree.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0148.jp2"}, "149": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 141\\nWhich living waves where thou didst cease\\nto live,\\nAnd saw around me the wide field revive\\nWith fruits and fertile promise, and the\\nSpring\\nCome forth her work of gladness to contrive,\\nWith all her reckless birds upon the wing,\\nI turn d from all she brought to those she\\ncould not bring.*\\nXXXI.\\nI turn d to thee, to thousands, of whom each\\nAnd one as all a ghastly gap did make\\nIn his own kind and kindred, whom to teach\\nForgetfulness were mercy for their sake\\nMy guide from Mont St. Jean over the field seemed intelli-\\ngent and accurate. The place where Major Howard fell was\\nnot far from two tall and solitary trees (there was a third, cut\\ndown, or shivered, in the battle), which stand a few yards from\\neach other at a pathway s side. Beneath these he died and was\\nburied. The body has since been removed to England. A small\\nhollow for the present marks where it lay, but will probably\\nsoon be effaced; the plough has been upon it, and the grain is.\\nAfter pointing out the different spots where Picton and other\\ngallant men had perished, the guide said, Here Major Howard\\nlay: I was near him when wounded. I told him my relation-\\nship, and he seemed then still more anxious to point out the\\nparticular spot and circumstances. The place is one of the\\nmost marked in the field, from the peculiarity of the two trees\\nabove mentioned. I went on horseback twice over the field,\\ncomparing it with my recollection of similar scenes. As a\\nplain, Waterloo seems marked out for the scene of some great\\naction, though this may be mere imagination. I have viewed\\nwith attention those of Platea, Troy x Mantinea, Leuctra,\\nChaeronea, and Marathon, and the field around Mont St. Jean\\nand Hougoumont appears to want little but a better cause, and\\nthat undefinable but impressive halo which the lapse of ages\\nthrows around a celebrated spot, to vie in interest with any or\\nall of these, except perhaps the last mentioned.", "height": "2889", "width": "1807", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0149.jp2"}, "150": {"fulltext": "142 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nThe Archangel s trump, not glory s, must\\nawake\\nThose whom they thirst for; though the\\nsound of Fame\\nMay for a moment soothe, it cannot slake\\nThe fever of vain longing, and the name\\nSo honor d, but assumes a stronger, bitterer\\nclaim.\\nXXXII.\\nThey mourn, but smile at length; and, smil-\\ning, mourn:\\nThe tree will wither long before it fall\\nThe hull drives on, though mast and sail be\\ntorn;\\nThe roof -tree sinks, but moulders on the hall\\nIn massy hoariness; the ruin d wall\\nStands when its wind- worn battlements are\\ngone;\\nThe bars survive the captive they enthral;\\nThe day drags through though storms keep\\nout the sun\\nAnd thus the heart will break, yet brokenly\\nlive on\\nXXXIII.\\nEven as a broken mirror, which the glass\\nIn every fragment multiplies; and makes\\nA thousand images of one that was,", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0150.jp2"}, "151": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 143\\nThe same, and still the more, the more it\\nbreaks\\nAnd thus the heart will do which not for-\\nsakes,\\nLiving in shatter d guise, and still, and cold,\\nAnd bloodless, with its sleepless sorrow\\naches,\\nYet withers on till all without is old,\\nShowing no visible sign, for such things are\\nuntold.\\nxxxiv.\\nThere is a very life in our despair,\\nVitality of poison, a quick root\\nWhich feeds these deadly branches: for it\\nwere\\nAs nothing did we die but life will suit\\nItself to Sorrow s most detested fruit,\\nLike to the apples on the Dead Sea s shore,*\\nAll ashes to the taste Did man compute\\nExistence by enjoyment and count o er\\nSuch hours gainst years of life, say, would\\nhe name threescore?\\nxxxv.\\nThe Psalmist number d out the years of\\nman:\\nThe (fabled) apples on the brink of the lake Asphaltes were\\nsaid to be fair without, and within ashes. Vide Tacitus, Histor.\\nlib. v. 7.", "height": "2889", "width": "1807", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0151.jp2"}, "152": {"fulltext": "144 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nThey are enough and if thy tale be true,\\nThou, who didst grudge him even that fleet-\\ning span,\\nMore than enough, thou fatal Waterloo\\nMillions of tongues record thee, and anew\\nTheir children s lips shall echo them, and\\nsay,\\nHere, where the sword united nations drew,\\nOur countrymen were warring on that day!\\nAnd this is much, and all which will not pass\\naway.\\nXXXVI.\\nThere sunk the greatest, nor the worst of\\nmen,\\nWhose spirit antithetically mixt\\nOne moment of the mightiest, and again\\nOn little objects with like firmness fixt\\nExtreme in all things! hadst thou been be-\\ntwixt.\\nThy throne had still been thine, or never\\nbeen;\\nFor daring made thy rise as fall thou\\nseek st\\nEven now to reassume the imperial mien,\\nAnd shake again the world, the Thunderer of\\nthe scene!", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0152.jp2"}, "153": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 145\\nXXXVII.\\nConqueror and captive of the earth art thou!\\nShe trembles at thee still, and thy wild\\nname\\nWas ne er more bruited in men s minds than\\nnow\\nThat thou art nothing, save the jest of\\nFame,\\nWho woo d thee once, thy vassal, and became\\nThe flatterer of thy fierceness, till thou wert\\nA god unto thyself; nor less the same\\nTo the astounded kingdoms all inert,\\nWho deem d thee for a time whate er thou\\ndidst assert.\\nXXXVIII.\\nOh, more or less than man in high or low\\nBattling with nations, flying from the field;\\nNow making monarchs necks thy footstool,\\nnow\\nMore than thy meanest soldier taught to\\nyield\\nAn empire thou couldst crush, command,\\nrebuild,\\nBut govern not thy pettiest passion, nor,\\nHowever deeply in men s spirits skill d,\\nLook through thine own, nor curb the lust of\\nwar,\\n10", "height": "2889", "width": "1807", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0153.jp2"}, "154": {"fulltext": "146 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nNor learn that tempted Fate will leave the\\nloftiest star.\\nXXXIX.\\nYet well thy soul hath brook d the turning\\ntide\\nWith that untaught innate philosophy,\\nWhich, be it wisdom, coldness, or deep pride,\\nIs gall and wormwood to an enemy,\\nWhen the whole host of hatred stood hard\\nby,\\nTo watch and mock thee shrinking, thou\\nhast smiled\\nWith a sedate and all-enduring eye;\\nWhen Fortune fled her spoil d and favorite\\nchild,\\nHe stood unbow d beneath the ills upon him\\npiled.\\nXL.\\nSager than in thy fortunes; for in them\\nAmbition steel d thee on too far to show\\nThat just habitual scorn, which could con-\\ntemn\\nMen and their thoughts; twas wise to feel,\\nnot so\\nTo wear it ever on thy lip and brow,\\nAnd spurn the instruments thou wert to use\\nTill they were turn d unto thine overthrow:", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0154.jp2"}, "155": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 147\\nTis but a worthless world to win or lose\\nSo hath it proved to thee, and all such lot who\\nchoose.\\nXLI.\\nIf, like a tower upon a headland rock,\\nThou hadst been made to stand or fall alone,\\nSuch scorn of man had help d to brave the\\nshock\\nBut men s thoughts were the steps which\\npaved thy throne,\\nTheir admiration thy best weapon shone\\nThe part of Philip s son was thine, not then\\n(Unless aside thy purple had been thrown)\\nLike stern Diogenes to mock at men;\\nFor sceptred cynics earth were far too wide a\\nden.\\nXLII.\\nBut quiet to quick bosoms is a hell,\\nAnd there hath been thy bane there is a fire\\nAnd motion of the soul, which will not dwell\\nIn its own narrow being, but aspire\\nThe great error of Napoleon, if we have writ our annals\\ntrue, was a continued obtrusion on mankind of his want of all\\ncommunity of feeling for or with them: perhaps more offensive\\nto human vanity than the active cruelty of more trembling and\\nsuspicious tyranny. Such were his speeches to public assem-\\nblies as well as individuals; and the single expression which he\\nis said to have used on returning to Paris after the Russian\\nwinter had destroyed his army, rubbing his hands over a fire,\\nThis is pleasanter than Moscow, would probably alienate\\nmore favor from his cause than the destruction and reverses\\nwhich led to the remark.", "height": "2889", "width": "1807", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0155.jp2"}, "156": {"fulltext": "148 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nBeyond the fitting medium of desire;\\nAnd, but once kindled, quenchless evermore,\\nPreys upon high adventure, nor can tire\\nOf aught but rest; a fever at the core,\\nFatal to him who bears, to all who ever bore.\\nXL1II.\\nThis makes the madmen who have made men\\nmad\\nBy their contagion! Conquerors and Kings,\\nFounders of sects and systems, to whom add\\nSophists, Bards, Statesmen, all unquiet\\nthings\\nWhich stir too strongly the soul s secret\\nsprings,\\nAnd are themselves the fools to those they\\nfool;\\nEnvied, yet how unenviable what stings\\nAre theirs! One breast laid open were a\\nschool\\nWhich would unteach mankind the lust to\\nshine or rule.\\nXLIV.\\nTheir breath is agitation, and their life\\nA storm whereon they ride to sink at last,\\nAnd yet so nursed and bigoted to strife,\\nThat should their days, surviving perils past,\\nMelt to calm twilight, they feel overcast", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0156.jp2"}, "157": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 149\\nWith sorrow and supineness, and so die\\nEven as a flame unfed, which runs to waste\\nWith its own flickering, or a sword laid by,\\nWhich eats into itself, and rusts ingloriously.\\nXLV.\\nHe who ascends to mountain-tops shall find\\nThe loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds and\\nsnow;\\nHe who surpasses or subdues mankind,\\nMust look down on the hate of those below,\\nThough high above the sun of glory glow,\\nAnd far beneath the earth and ocean spread,\\nRound him are icy rocks, and loudly blow\\nContending tempests on his naked head,\\nAnd thus reward the toils which to those sum-\\nmits led.\\nXLVI.\\nAway with these! true Wisdom s world will\\nbe\\nWithin its own creation, or in thine,\\nMaternal Nature! for who teems like thee,\\nThus on the banks of thy majestic Rhine?\\nThere Harold gazes on a work divine,\\nA blending of all beauties; streams and\\ndells,\\nFruit, foliage, crag, wood, corn-field, moun-\\ntain, vine,", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0157.jp2"}, "158": {"fulltext": "150 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nAnd chieness castles breathing stern fare-\\nwells\\nFrom gray but leafy walls, where Ruin greenly\\ndwells.\\nXLVII.\\nAnd there they stand, as stands a lofty mind,\\nWorn, but unstooping to the baser crowd,\\nAll tenantless, save to the crannying wind,\\nOr holding dark communion with the cloud.\\nThere was a day when they were young and\\nproud,\\nBanners on high, and battles pass d below;\\nBut they who fought are in a bloody shroud,\\nAnd those which waved are shredless dust\\nere now,\\nAnd the bleak battlements shall bear no future\\nblow.\\nXLVIII.\\nBeneath those battlements, within those\\nwalls,\\nPower dwelt amidst her passions in proud\\nstate\\nEach robber chief upheld his armed halls,\\nDoing his evil will, nor less elate\\nThan mightier heroes of a longer date.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0158.jp2"}, "159": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 151\\nWhat want these outlaw conquerors should\\nhave\\nBut History s purchased page to call them\\ngreat?\\nA wider space, an ornamented grave?\\nTheir hopes were not less warm, their souls\\nwere full as brave.\\nXLIX.\\nIn their baronial feuds and single fields,\\nWhat deeds of prowess unrecorded died\\nAnd Love, which lent a blazon to their\\nshields,\\nWith emblems well devised by amorous\\npride,\\nThrough all the mail of iron hearts would\\nglide\\nBut still their flame was fierceness, and drew\\non.\\nKeen contest and destruction near allied,\\nAnd many a tower for some fair mischief\\nwon,\\nSaw the discolor d Rhine beneath its ruin run.\\nL.\\nBut Thou, exalting and abounding river!\\nMaking thy waves a blessing as they flow\\nWhat wants that knave that a king should have? was\\nKing James s question on meeting Johnny Armstrong and his\\nfollowers in full accoutrements.\u00e2\u0080\u0094 See the Ballad.", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0159.jp2"}, "160": {"fulltext": "152 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nThrough banks whose beauty would endure\\nforever\\nCould man but leave thy bright creation so,\\nNor its fair promise from the surface mow\\nWith the sharp scythe of conflict, then to\\nsee\\nThy valley of sweet waters, were to know\\nEarth paved like Heaven; and to seem such\\nto me\\nEven now what wants thy stream? that it\\nshould Lethe be.\\nLI.\\nA thousand battles have assail d thy banks,\\nBut these and half their fame have pass d\\naway,\\nAnd Slaughter heap d on high his weltering\\nranks\\nTheir very graves are gone, and what are\\nthey?\\nThy tide wash d down the blood of yester-\\nday.\\nAnd all was stainless, and on thy clear stream\\nGlass d with its dancing light the sunny\\nray;\\nBut o er the blacken d memory s blighting\\ndream\\nThy waves would vainly roll, all sweeping as\\nthey seem.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0160.jp2"}, "161": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 153\\nLII.\\nThus Harold inly said, and pass d along,\\nYet not insensible to all which here\\nAwoke the jocund birds to early song\\nIn glens which might have made even exile\\ndear:\\nThough on his brow were graven lines\\naustere,\\nAnd tranquil sternness which had ta en the\\nplace\\nOf feelings fiercer far but less severe.\\nJoy was not always absent from his face,\\nBut o er it in such scenes would steal with\\ntransient trace.\\nLIII.\\nNor was all love shut from him, though his\\ndays\\nOf passion had consumed themselves to dust.\\nIt is in vain that we would coldly gaze\\nOn such as smile upon us; the heart must\\nLeap kindly back to kindness, though dis-\\ngust\\nHath wean d it from all worldlings: thus he\\nfelt,\\nFor there was soft remembrance, and sweet\\ntrust", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0161.jp2"}, "162": {"fulltext": "154 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nIn one fond breast, to which his own would\\nmelt,\\nAnd in its tenderer hour on that his bosom\\ndwelt.\\nLIV.\\nAnd he had learn d to love, I know not\\nwhy,\\nFor this in such as him seems strange of\\nmood,\\nThe helpless looks of blooming infancy,\\nEven in its earliest nurture what subdued,\\nTo change like this, a mind so far imbued\\nWith scorn of man, it little boots to know;\\nBut thus it was; and though in solitude\\nSmall power the nipp d affections have to\\ngrow,\\nIn him this glow d when all beside had ceased\\nto glow.\\nLV.\\nAnd there was one soft breast, as hath been\\nsaid,\\nWhich unto his was bound by stronger ties\\nThan the church links withal; and, though\\nunwed,\\nThat love was pure, and, far above disguise,\\nHad stood the test of mortal enmities\\nStill undivided, and cemented more", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0162.jp2"}, "163": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 155\\nBy peril, dreaded most in female eyes;\\nBut this was firm, and from a foreign shore;\\nWell to that heart might his these absent greet-\\nings pour\\nThe castled crag of Drachenfels\\nFrowns o er the wide and winding Rhine,\\nWhose breast of waters broadly swells\\nBetween the banks which bear the vine,\\nAnd hills all rich with blossom d trees,\\nAnd fields which promise corn and wine,\\nAnd scatter d cities crowning these,\\nWhose far white walls along them shine,\\nHave strew d a scene, which I should see\\nWith double joy were thou with me\\nAnd peasant girls, with deep-blue eyes,\\nAnd hands which offer early flowers,\\nWalk smiling o er this paradise;\\nAbove, the frequent feudal towers\\nThrough green leaves lift their walls of\\ngray,\\nAnd many a rock which steeply lowers,\\nAnd noble arch in proud decay,\\nThe castle of Drachenfels stands on the highest summit of\\nThe Seven Mountains, over the Rhine banks, it is in ruins,\\nand connected with some singular traditions. It is the first in\\nview on the road from Bonn, but on the opposite side of the\\nriver. On this bank, nearly facing it, are the remains of an-\\nother, called the Jew s Castle, and a large cross commemorative\\nof the murder of a chief by his brother. The number of castles\\nand cities along the course of the Rhine on both sides is very\\ngreat, and their situations remarkably beautiful.", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0163.jp2"}, "164": {"fulltext": "156 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nLook o er this vale of vintage bowers;\\nBut one thing want these banks of Rhine,\\nThy gentle hand to clasp in mine\\nI send the lilies given to me\\nThough long before thy hand they touch,\\nI know that they must wither d be,\\nBut yet reject them not as such;\\nFor I have cherish d them as dear,\\nBecause they yet may meet thine eye,\\nAnd guide thy soul to mine even here.\\nWhen thou behold st them drooping nigh,\\nAnd know st them gathered by the Rhine,\\nAnd ot fer d from my heart to thine!\\nThe river nobly foams and flows,\\nThe charm of this enchanted ground,\\nAnd all its thousand turns disclose\\nSome fresher beauty varying round;\\nThe haughtiest breast its wish might bound\\nThrough life to dwell delighted here;\\nNor could on earth a spot be found\\nTo nature and to me so dear.\\nCould thy dear eyes in following mine\\nStill sweeten more these banks of Rhine!\\nLVI.\\nBy Coblentz, on a rise of gentle ground,\\nThere is a small and simple pyramid,", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0164.jp2"}, "165": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 157\\nCrowning the summit of the verdant mound;\\nBeneath its base are heroes ashes hid,\\nOar enemy s, but let not that forbid\\nHonor to Marceau! o er whose early tomb\\nTears, big tears, gush d from the rough sol-\\ndier s lid,\\nLamenting and yet envying such a doom,\\nFalling for France, whose rights he battled to\\nresume.\\nLVII.\\nBrief, brave, and glorious was his young\\ncareer,\\nHis mourners were two hosts, his friends\\nand foes;\\nAnd fitly may the stranger lingering here\\nPray for his gallant spirit s bright repose;\\nFor he was Freedom s champion, one of\\nthose,\\nThe few in number, who had not o erstept\\nThe charter to chastise which she bestows\\nOn such as wield her weapons he had kept\\nThe whiteness of his soul, and thus men o er\\nhim wept.*\\nThe monument of the young: and lamented General Mar-\\nceau (killed by a rifle-ball at Alterkirchen on the last day of the\\nfourth year of the French Republic) still remains as described.\\nThe inscription on his monument are rather too long, and not\\nrequired\u00e2\u0080\u0094 his name was enough. France adored, and her ene-\\nmies admired; both wept over him. His funeral was attended\\nby the generals and detachments from both armies. In the\\nsame grave General Hoche is interred, a gallant man also in", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0165.jp2"}, "166": {"fulltext": "158 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nLVIII.\\nHere Ehrenbreitstein, with her shatter d\\nwall\\nBlack with the miner s blast, upon her height\\nYet shows of what she was, when shell and\\nball\\nRebounding idly on her strength did light;\\nA tower of victory! from whence the flight\\nOf baffled foes was watch d along the plain:\\nBut Peace destroy d what War could never\\nblight,\\nAnd laid those proud roofs bare to Summer s\\nrain\\nOn which the iron shower for years had poured\\nin vain.\\nevery sense of the word; but though he distinguished* himself\\ngreatly in battle, he had not the good fortune to die there; his\\ndeath was attended by suspicions of poison. A separate monu-\\nment not over his body, which is buried by Mareeau s I 18 raised\\nfor him near Andernach, opposite to which one of his most mem-\\norable exploits was performed, in throwing a bridge to an\\nisland on the Rhine. The shape and style are different from that\\nof Mart eau 8 and the inscription more simple and pleasing:\\nThe Army of the Sambre and Mense to its Commander-in-\\nChief, Hoc he. This is all, and as it should be. Hoche was\\nesteemed among the first of France s earlier generals, before\\nBonaparte monopolized her triumphs. He was the destined\\ncommander of the invading army of Ireland.\\nKhrenbreitstein, i. e., the broad stone of honor, one of\\nthe strongest fortresses in Europe, was dismantled and blown\\nup by the French at the truce of Leoben. It has been, and could\\nonly be, reduced by famine r treachery. It yielded to the for-\\nmer, aided by surprise. After having seen the fortifications of\\nGibraltar and Malta, it did not much strike by comparison; but\\nthe situation is commanding. General Marceau besieged it in\\nvain for some time; and I slept in a room where I was shown a\\nwindow at which he is said to have been standing, observing\\nthe progress of the siege by moonlight, when a ball struck im-\\nmediately below it.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0166.jp2"}, "167": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 159\\nLIX.\\nAdieu to thee, fair Rhine How long, de-\\nlighted,\\nThe stranger fain would linger on his way\\nThine is a scene alike where souls united\\nOr lonely Contemplation thus might stray;\\nAnd could the ceaseless vultures cease to\\nprey\\nOn self-condemning bosoms, it were here,\\nWhere Nature, nor too sombre nor too gay,\\nWild but not rude, awful yet not austere,\\nIs to the mellow Earth as Autumn to the year.\\nLX.\\nAdieu to thee again a vain adieu\\nThere can be no farewell to scene like thine;\\nThe mind is colored by thy every hue;\\nAnd if reluctantly the eyes resign\\nTheir cherish d gaze upon thee, lovely\\nRhine\\nTis with the thankful glance of parting\\npraise\\nMore mighty spots may rise more glaring\\nshine,\\nBut none unite in one attaching maze\\nThe brilliant, fair, and soft; the glories of old\\ndays.", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0167.jp2"}, "168": {"fulltext": "160 CHILDE HAROLDS PILGRIMAGE.\\nLXI.\\nThe negligently grand, the fruitful bloom\\nOf coming ripeness, the white city s sheen,\\nThe rolling stream, the precipice s gloom,\\nThe forest s growth, and Gothic walls\\nbetween,\\nThe wild rocks shaped as they had turrets\\nbeen\\nIn mockery of man s art; and these withal\\nA race of faces happy as the scene,\\nWhose fertile bounties here extend to all,\\nStill springing o er thy banks, though Empires\\nnear them fall.\\nLXII.\\nBut these recede. Above me are the Alps,\\nThe palaces of Nature, whose vast walls\\nHave pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps,\\nAnd throned Eternity in icy halls\\nOf cold sublimity, where forms and falls\\nThe avalanche the thunderbolt of snow!\\nAll that expands the spirit, yet appals,\\nGather round these summits, as to show\\nHow Earth may pierce to Heaven, yet leave\\nvain man below.\\nLXIII.\\nBut ere these matchless heights I dare to\\nscan,", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0168.jp2"}, "169": {"fulltext": "There was a sound of revelry by night. Page 135.\\nChildo Harold s Pilgrimage.", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0169.jp2"}, "170": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0170.jp2"}, "171": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 161\\nThere is a spot should not be pass d in vain,\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nMorat! the proud, the patriot field! where\\nman\\nMay gaze on ghastly trophies of the slain,\\nNor blush for those who conquered on that\\nplain\\nHere Burgundy bequeathed his tombless\\nhost,\\nA bony heap, through ages to remain,\\nThemselves their monument; the Stygian\\ncoast\\nUnsepulchred they roam d, and shriek d each\\nwandering ghost.*\\nLXIV.\\nWhile Waterloo with Cannae s carnage vies,\\nMorat and Marathon twin names shall stand;\\nThey were true Glory s stainless victories,\\nWon by the unambitious heart and hand\\nOf a proud, brotherly, and civic band,\\n*The chapel is destroyed, and the pyramid of bones dimin-\\nished to a small number by the Burgundian legion in the service\\nof France who anxiously effaced this record of their ancestors\\nfess succesSu? invasions. A few still remain notwithstanding\\nthe nains taken by the Burgundians for ages (all who passed that\\nway movingabone to their own country), and the less justi-\\nfiable larcenies of the Swiss postilions, who carried them off to\\nSell for kn ife-handles,-a purpose for which the whiteness\\nimbibed by the teaching of years had rendered them in great\\nTeq ofthese relics I ventured to bring away as much as may\\nhave made a quarter of a hero, for which the sole excuse is, that\\nif I had not, the next passer-by might have perverted the m to\\nworse uses than the careful preservation which I intend for\\nthem.\\n14 11", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0171.jp2"}, "172": {"fulltext": "162 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nAH unbought champions in no princely cause\\nOf vice-entail d Corruption they no land\\nDoom d to bewail the blasphemy of laws\\nMaking king s rights divine, by some Draconic\\nclause.\\nLXV.\\nBy a lone wall a lonelier column rears\\nA gray and grief-worn aspect of old days,\\nTis the last remnant of the wreck of years,\\nAnd looks as with the wild bewilder d gaze\\nOf one to stone converted by amaze,\\nYet still with consciousness; and there it\\nstands,\\nMaking a marvel that it not decays,\\nWhen the coeval pride of human hands,\\nLevell d Aventicum, hath strew d her subject\\nlands.*\\nLXVI.\\nAnd there\u00e2\u0080\u0094 oh! sweet and sacred be the\\nname\\nJulia the daughter, the devoted gave\\nHer youth to Heaven, her heart, beneath a\\nclaim\\nNearest to Heaven s, broke o er a father s\\ngrave.\\n\u00e2\u0099\u00a6Aventicum, near Morat, was the Roman capital of Hel-\\nvetia, where Avenches now stands.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0172.jp2"}, "173": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 163\\nJustice is sworn gainst tears, and hers would\\ncrave\\nThe life she lived in, but the judge was just,\\nAnd then she died on him she could not save.\\nTheir tomb was simple, and without a bust,\\nAnd held within their urn one mind, one heart,\\none dust.*\\nlxvii.\\nBut there are deeds which should not pass\\naway,\\nAnd names that must not wither, though the\\nearth\\nForgets her empires with a just decay.\\nThe enslavers and the enslaved, their death\\nand birth;\\nThe high, the mountain-majesty of worth,\\nShould be, and shall, survivor of its woe,\\nAnd from its immortality look forth\\n*Tulia Alpinula, a young Aventian priestess, died soon after\\na vain endeavor to save her father, condemned to death as a\\nraS by Aulus C\u00c2\u00bbcina. Her epitaph was discovered many\\nyears ago. It is thus: Julia Alpinula: Hie jaceo. Infeluaft\\npatris infelix proles. Dete Aventia? Sacerdos. Exorare patris\\nSecern non potui: Male mori in fatis ille erat Vixi annos\\nXXIII I know of no human composition so affecting as this,\\nnor a history of deeper interest. These are the names and\\nactions which ought not to perish, and to which we turn with a\\ntrue and healthy tenderness, from the wretched and glittering\\ndetail of a confused mass of conquests and battles with which\\nthe mind is roused for a time to a false and feverish sympathy,\\nfrom whence it recurs at length with all the nausea consequent\\non such intoxication.", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0173.jp2"}, "174": {"fulltext": "164 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nIn the sun s face, like yonder Alpine snow,*\\nImperishably pure beyond all things below.\\nLXVI1I.\\nLake Leman woos me with its crystal face,\\nThe mirror where the stars and mountains\\nview\\nThe stillness of their aspect in each trace\\nIts clear depth yields of their far height and\\nhue\\nThere is too much of man here, to look\\nthrough\\nWith a fit mind the might which I behold;\\nBut soon in me shall Loneliness renew\\nThoughts hid, but not less cherish d than of\\nold,\\nEre mingling with the herd had penn d me in\\ntheir fold.\\nI XIX.\\nTo fly from, need not be to hate, mankind;\\nAll are not fit with them to stir and toil,\\nNor is it discontent to keep the mind\\nDeep in its fountain, lest it overboil\\nIn one hot throng, where we become the spoil\\nOf our infection, till too late and long\\n*This is written in the eye of Mont Blanc (June 3, 1816,) which\\neven at this distance dazzles mine. (July 20.) I this day\\nobserved for some time the distinct reflection of Mont Blanc and\\nMont Argentiere in the calm of the lake, which I was crossing\\nin my boat. The distance of these mountains from their mirror\\nis sixty miles.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0174.jp2"}, "175": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 165\\nWe may deplore and struggle with the coil,\\nIn wretched interchange of wrong for wrong\\nMidst a contentious world, striving where\\nnone are strong.\\nLXX.\\nThere, in a moment, we may plunge our\\nyears\\nIn fatal penitence, and in the blight\\nOf our own soul, turn all our blood to tears.\\nAnd color things to come with hues of\\nNight;\\nThe race of life becomes a hopeless flight\\nTo those that walk in darkness: on the sea,\\nThe boldest steer but where their ports\\ninvite,\\nBut there are wanderers o er Eternity\\nWhose bark drives on and on, and anchor d\\nne er shall be.\\nLXXI.\\nIs it not better, then, to be alone,\\nAnd love Earth only for its earthly sake?\\nBy the blue rushing of the arrowy Rhone,*\\nOr the pure bosom of its nursing lake,\\nWhich feeds it as a mother who doth make\\n*The color of the Rhone at Geneva is blue to a depth of\\ntint which I have never seen equaled in water, salt or fresh,\\nexcept in the Mediterranean and Archipelago.", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0175.jp2"}, "176": {"fulltext": "166 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nA fair but froward infant her own care,\\nKissing its cries away as these awake\\nIs it not better thus our lives to wear,\\nThan join the crushing crowd, doom d to inflict\\nor bear?\\nLXXII.\\nI live not in myself, but I become\\nPortion of that around me and to me,\\nHigh mountains are a feeling, but the hum\\nOf human cities torture: I can see\\nNothing to loathe in nature, save to be\\nA link reluctant in a fleshly chain,\\nClass d among creatures, when the soul can\\nflee,\\nAnd with the sky, the peak, the heaving\\nplain\\nOf ocean, or the stars, mingle, and not in vain.\\nLXX1II.\\nAnd thus I am absorb d, and this is life:\\nI look upon the peopled desert past,\\nAs on a place of agony and strife,\\nWhere, for some sin, to Sorrow I was cast,\\nTo act and suffer, but remount at last\\nWith a fresh pinion which I felt to spring,\\nThough young, yet waxing vigorous as the\\nblast\\nWhich it would cope with, on delighted wing,", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0176.jp2"}, "177": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 167\\nSpurning the clay-cold bonds which round our\\nbeing cling.\\nlxxiv.\\nAnd when, at length, the mind shall be all\\nfree\\nFrom what it hates in this degraded form,\\nReft of its carnal life, save what shall be\\nExistent happier in the fly and worm,\\nWhen elements to elements conform,\\nAnd dust is as it should be, shall I not\\nFeel all I see, less dazzling, but more warm?\\nThe bodiless thought? the Spirit of each\\nspot?\\nOf which, even now, I share at times the\\nimmortal lot?\\nLXXV.\\nAre not the mountains, waves, and skies a\\npart\\nOf me and of my soul, as I of them?\\nIs not the love of these deep in my heart\\nWith a pure passion? should I not contemn\\nAll objects, if compared with these? and stem\\nA tide of suffering, rather than forego\\nSuch feelings for the hard and worldly\\nphlegm\\nOf those whose eyes are only turned below,", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0177.jp2"}, "178": {"fulltext": "1G8 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nGazing upon the ground, with thoughts which\\ndare not glow?\\nLXXVI.\\nBut this is not my theme; and I return\\nTo that which is immediate, and require\\nThose who find contemplation in the urn,\\nTo look on One whose dust was once all\\nfire,\\nA native of the land where I respire\\nThe clear air for a while a passing guest,\\nWhere he became a being, whose desire\\nWas to be glorious; twas a foolish que t.\\nThe which to gain and keep he sacrificed all\\nrest.\\nLXXVll.\\nHere the self-torturing sophist, wild Rous-\\nseau,\\nThe apostle f affliction, he who threw\\nEnchantment over passion, and from woe\\nWrung overwhelming eloquence, first drew\\nThe breath which made him wretched; yet\\nhe knew\\nHow to make madness beautiful, and cast\\nO er erring deeds and thoughts a heavenly\\nhue\\nOf words, like sunbeams, dazzling as they\\npast", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0178.jp2"}, "179": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 169\\nThe eyes, which o er them shed tears feelingly\\nand fast.\\nLXXVIII.\\nHis love was passion s essence as a tree\\nOn fire by lightning; with ethereal flame\\nKindled he was, and blasted for to be\\nThus, and enamor d, were in him the same.\\nBut his was not the love of living dame,\\nNor of the dead who rise upon our dreams,\\nBut of Ideal beauty, which became\\nIn him existence, and o erflowing teems\\nAlong his burning page, distemper d though\\nit seems.\\nLXXIX.\\nThis breathed itself to life in Julie, this\\nInvested her with all that s wild and sweet;\\nThis hallow d, too, the memorable kiss*\\nWhich every morn his fever d lip would\\ngreet,\\nFrom hers, who but with friendship his\\nwould meet\\n\u00e2\u0099\u00a6This refers to the account in his Confessions of his passion\\nfor the Comtesse d Houdetot (the mistress of St. Lambert), and\\nhis long walk every morning, for the sake of the single kiss\\nwhich was the common salutation of French acquaintance.\\nRousseau s description of his feelings on this occasion may be\\nconsidered as the most passionate, yet not impure, description\\nand expression of love that ever kindled into words; which,\\nafter all, must be felt from their very force to be inadequate to\\nthe delineation. A painting can give no sufficient idea of the\\nocean", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0179.jp2"}, "180": {"fulltext": "170 CHILDE HAROLDS PILGRIMAGE.\\nBut to that gentle touch, through brain and\\nbreast\\nFlash d the thrill d spirit s love-devouring\\nheat;\\nIn that absorbing sigh perchance more blest,\\nThan vulgar minds may be with all they seek\\npossest.\\nLXXX.\\nHis life was one long war with self- sought\\nfoes,\\nOr friends by him self-banish d for his mind\\nHad grown Suspicion s sanctuary, and chose\\nFor its own cruel sacrifice, the kind,\\nGainst whom he raged with fury strange\\nand blind,\\nBut he was frenzied, wherefore, who may\\nknow?\\nSince cause might be which skill could never\\nfind;\\nBut he was frenzied by disease or woe\\nTo that worst pitch of all, which wears a rea-\\nsoning show.\\nLXXXI.\\nFor then he was inspired, and from him\\ncame,\\nAs from the Pythian s mystic cave of yore,\\nThose oracles which set the world in flame,", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0180.jp2"}, "181": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 171\\nNor ceased to burn till kingdoms were no\\nmore:\\nDid he not this for France, which lay before\\nBow d to the inborn tyranny of years?\\nBroken and trembling to the yoke she bore,\\nTill by the voice of him and his compeers\\nRoused up to too much wrath, which follows\\no ergrown fears?\\nLXXXII.\\nThey made themselves a fearful monument!\\nThe wreck of old opinions things which\\ngrew,\\nBreathed from the birth of time; the veil\\nthey rent,\\nAnd what behind it lay, all earth shall view.\\nBut good with ill they also overthrew,\\nLeaving but ruins, wherewith to rebuild\\nUpon the same foundation, and renew\\nDungeons and thrones, which the same hour\\nrefill d,\\nAs heretofore, because ambition was self- will d.\\nlxxxiii.\\nBut this will not endure, nor be endured!\\nMankind have felt their strength, and made\\nit felt.\\nThey might have used it better, but, allured\\nBy their new vigor, sternly have they dealt", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0181.jp2"}, "182": {"fulltext": "172 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nOn one another; pity ceased to melt\\nWith her once natural charities. But they,\\nWho in oppression s darkness caved had\\ndwelt,\\nThey were not eagles, nourish d with the\\nday;\\nWhat marvel then, at times, if they mistook\\ntheir prey?\\nLXXXIV.\\nWhat deep wounds ever closed without a\\nscar?\\nThe heart s bleed longest, and but heal to\\nwear\\nThat which disfigures it; and they who war\\nWith their own hopes, and have been van-\\nquish d, bear\\nSilence, but not submission; in his lair\\nFix d Passion holds his breath, until the hour\\nWhich shall atone for years; none need\\ndespair:\\nIt came, it cometh r and will come, the\\npower\\nTo punish or forgive in one we shall be\\nslower.\\nLXXXV.\\nClear, placid, Leman! thy contrasted lake,\\nWith the wide world I dwelt in, is a thing", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0182.jp2"}, "183": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 173\\nWhich warns me, with its stillness, to forsake\\nEarth s troubled waters for a purer spring.\\nThis quiet sail is as a noiseless wing\\nTo waft me from distraction once I loved\\nTorn ocean s roar, but thy soft murmuring\\nSounds sweet as if a Sister s voice reproved,\\nThat I with stern delights should e er have\\nbeen so moved.\\nLXXXVI.\\nIt is the hush of night, and all between\\nThy margin and the mountains, dusk, yet\\nclear,\\nMellow d and mingling, yet distinctly seen,\\nSave darken d Jura, whose capt heights\\nappear\\nPrecipitously steep and drawing near,\\nThere breathes a living fragrance from the\\nshore,\\nOf flowers yet fresh with childhood; on the\\near\\nDrops the light drip of the suspended oar,\\nOr chirps the grasshopper one good-night carol\\nmore\\nLXXXVII.\\nHe is an evening reveller, who makes\\nHis life an infancy, and sings his fill;\\nAt intervals, some bird from out the brakes", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0183.jp2"}, "184": {"fulltext": "174 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nStarts into voice a moment, then is still.\\nThere seems a floating whisper on the hill r\\nBut that is fancy, for the starlight dews\\nAll silently their tears of love instil,\\nWeeping themselves away, till they infuse\\nDeep into Nature s breast the spirit of her\\nhues.\\nI XX XV in.\\nYe stars which arc the poetry of heaven,\\nIf in your bright leaves we would read the\\nfate\\n\\\\i men and empires, tis to be forgiven,\\nThat in our aspirations to be gr\\nOur destinies o erleap their mortal state.\\nAnd claim a kindred with you; for ye are\\nA beauty and a mystery, and create\\nIn us such love and reverence from afar.\\nThat fortune, fame, power, life, have named\\nthemselves a si\\nLXXXIX.\\nAll heaven and earth are still though not\\nin sleep.\\nBut breathless, as we grow when feeling\\nmost;\\nAnd silent, as we stand in thoughts too\\ndeep:", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0184.jp2"}, "185": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE 175\\nAll heaven and earth are still From the\\nhigh host\\nOf stars, to the lull d lake and mountain-\\ncoast,\\nAll is concenter d in a life intense,\\nWhere not a beam, nor air, nor leaf is lost,\\nBut hath a part of being, and a sense\\nOf that which is of all Creator and defence.\\nxc.\\nThen stirs the feeling infinite, so felt\\nIn solitude, where we are least alone;\\nA truth, which, through our being then doth\\nmelt,\\nAnd purifies from self: it is a tone,\\nThe soul and source of music, which makes\\nknown\\nEternal harmony, and sheds a charm,\\nLike to the fabled Cytherea s zone,\\nBinding all things with beauty;\u00e2\u0080\u0094 twould\\ndisarm\\nThe spectre Death, had he substantial power\\nto harm.\\nxci.\\nNot vainly did the early Persian make\\nHis altar the high places and the peak\\nOf earth-o ergazing mountains, and thus take\\nA fit and unwall d temple, there to seek", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0185.jp2"}, "186": {"fulltext": "176 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nThe Spirit, in whose honor shrines are weak,\\nUprear d of human hands. Come, and com-\\npare\\nColumns and idol-dwellings, Goth or Greek,\\nWith nature s realms of worship, earth and\\nair.\\nNor fix on fond abodes to circumscribe thy\\nprayer\\nxcn.\\nThe sky is changed! and such a change! O\\nnight,\\nAnd storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous\\nstrong,\\nYet lovely in your strength, as is the light\\nOf a dark eye in woman Far along.\\nFrom peak to peak, the rattling crags among,\\nLeaps the live thunder! Not from one lone\\ncloud.\\nBut every mountain now hath found a\\ntongue\\nAnd Jura answers, through her misty\\nshroud,\\nBack to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud!\\nXCIII.\\nAnd this is in the night: Most glorious\\nnight!\\nThou wert not sent for. slumber! let me be", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0186.jp2"}, "187": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 177\\nA sharer in thy fierce and far delight\\nA portion of the tempest and of thee\\nHow the lit lake shines, a phosphoric sea,\\nAnd the big rain comes dancing to the earth!\\nAnd now again tis black, and now, the glee\\nOf the loud hills shakes with its mountain-\\nmirth,\\nAs if they did rejoice o er a young earthquake s\\nbirth.\\nxciv.\\nNow, where the swift Rhone cleaves his way\\nbetween\\nHeights which appear as lovers who have\\nparted\\nIn hate, whose mining depths so intervene,\\nThat they can meet no more, though broken-\\nhearted;\\nThough in their souls, which thus each other\\nthwarted,\\nLove was the very root of the fond rage\\nWhich blighted their life s bloom, and then\\ndeparted;\\nItself expired, but leaving them an age\\nOf years all winters war within themselves to\\nwage.\\nxcv.\\nNow, where the quick Rhone thus hath cleft\\nhis way,\\n12", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0187.jp2"}, "188": {"fulltext": "17 4 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nThe mightiest of the storm hath ta en his\\nstand\\nFor here, not one, but many, make their\\nplay,\\nAnd fling their thunderbolts from hand to\\nhand,\\nFlashing and cast around; of all the band,\\nThe brightest through these parted hills hath\\nfork d\\nHis lightnings, as if he did understand\\nThat in such gaps as desolation work d,\\nThere the hot shaft should blast whatever\\ntherein lurk d.\\nXCVI.\\nSky, mountains, river, winds, lake, light-\\nnings! ye,\\nWith night, and clouds, and thunder, and a\\nsoul\\nTo make these felt and feeling, well may be\\nThings that have made me watchful; the far\\nroll\\nOf your departing voices, is the knoll\\nOf what in me is sleepless, if I rest.\\nBut where of ye, O tempests! is the goal?\\nAre ye like those within the human breast?\\nOr do ye find at length, like eagles, some high\\nnest", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0188.jp2"}, "189": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 179\\nXCVII.\\nCould I embody and unbosom now\\nThat which is most within me, could I\\nwreak\\nMy thoughts upon expression, and thus\\nthrow\\nSoul, heart, mind, passions, feelings, strong\\nor weak,\\nAll that I would have sought, and all I seek,\\nBear, know, feel, and yet breathe\u00e2\u0080\u0094 into one\\nword,\\nAnd that one word were Lightning, I would\\nspeak\\nBut as it is, I live and die unheard,\\nWith a most voiceless thought, sheathing it as\\na sword.\\nXCVIII.\\nThe morn is up again, the dewy morn,\\nWith breath all incense, and with cheek all\\nbloom,\\nLaughing the clouds away with playful\\nscorn,\\nAnd living as if earth contain d no tomb,\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nAnd glowing into day: we may resume\\nThe march of our existence: and thus I,\\nStill on thy shores, fair Leman! may find\\nroom", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0189.jp2"}, "190": {"fulltext": "180 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nAnd food for meditation, nor pass by\\nMuch, that may give us pause, if pondered\\nfittingly.\\nXCIX.\\nClarens! sweet Clarens! birthplace of deep\\nLove\\nThine air is the young breath of passionate\\nthought;\\nThy trees take root in love; the snows\\nat* i\\nThe very Glaciers have his colors caught,\\nAnd sunset into rose-hues sees them wrought\\nBy rays which sleep there lovingly; the\\nrocks,\\nThe permanent -11 here of Love, who\\night\\nIn them a refuge from the worldly shocks,\\nWhich stir and sting the soul with hope that\\nWOOS, then mocks.\\nc.\\nClarens! by heavenly feet thy paths are\\ntrod,\\nUndying Love s, who here ascends a throne\\nTo which the steps are mountains; where\\nthe god\\nIs a pervading life and light, so shown\\nNot on those summits solely, nor alone", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0190.jp2"}, "191": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 181\\nIn the still cave and forest; o er the flower\\nHis eye is sparkling, and his breath hath\\nblown,\\nHis soft and summer breath, whose tender\\npower\\nPasses the strength of storms in their most\\ndesolate hour.\\nci.\\nAll things are here of him from the black\\npines,\\nWhich are his shade on high, and the loud\\nroar\\nOf torrents, where he listeneth, to the vines\\nWhich slope his green path downward to the\\nshore,\\nWhere the bow d waters meet him, and\\nadore,\\nKissing his feet with murmurs; and the\\nwood,\\nThe covert of old trees, with trunks all hoar,\\nBut light leaves, young as joy, stands where\\nI stood,\\nOffering to him, and his, a populous solitude.\\nen.\\nA populous solitude of bees and birds,\\nAnd fairy-form d and many color d things,", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0191.jp2"}, "192": {"fulltext": "182 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nWho worship him with notes more sweet than\\nwords,\\nAnd innocently open their glad wings,\\nFearless and full of life the gush of springs,\\nAnd fall of lofty fountains, and the bend\\nOf stirring branches, and the bud which\\nbrings\\nThe swiftest thought of beauty, here extend,\\nMingling, and made by Love, unto one mighty\\nend.\\ncm.\\nHe who hath loved not, here would learn\\nthat lore,\\nAnd make his heart a spirit: he who knows\\nThat tender mystery, will love the more,\\nFor this is Love s recess, where vain men s\\nwoes,\\nAnd the world s waste, have driven him far\\nfrom those,\\nFor tis his nature to advance or die;\\nHe stands not still, but or decays, or grows\\nInto a boundless blessing, which may vie\\nWith the immortal lights, in its eternity!\\nciv.\\nTwas not for fiction chose Rousseau this spot,\\nPeopling it with affections; but he found", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0192.jp2"}, "193": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 183\\nIt was the scene which passion must allot\\nTo the mind s purified beings; twas the\\nground\\nWhere early Love his Psyche s zone unbound,\\nAnd hallow d it with loveliness: tis lone,\\nAnd wonderful, and deep, and hath a sound,\\nAnd sense, and sight of sweetness; here the\\nRhone\\nHath spread himself a couch, the Alps have\\nrear d a throne.\\ncv.\\nLausanne! and Ferney! ye have been the\\nabodes\\nOf names which unto you bequeath d a\\nname\\nMortals, who sought and found, by dan-\\ngerous roads,\\nA path to perpetuity of fame:\\nThey were gigantic minds, and their steep\\naim\\nWas, Titan-like, on daring doubts to pile\\nThoughts which should call down thunder,\\nand the flame\\nOf Heaven, again assail d, if Heaven the\\nwhile\\nOn man and man s research could deign do\\nmore than smile.\\nVoltaire and Gibbon.", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0193.jp2"}, "194": {"fulltext": "184 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\ncvi.\\nThe one was fire and fickleness, a child\\nMost mutable in wishes, but in mind\\nA wit as various, gay, grave, sage, or\\nwild,\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nHistorian, bard, philosopher combined:\\nHe multiplied himself among mankind,\\nThe Proteus of their talents. But his own\\nBreathed most in ridicule, which, as the\\nwind.\\nBlew where it listed, laying all things\\nprone.\\nNow to overthrow a fool, and now to shake a\\nthrone.\\ncvn.\\nThe other, deep and slow, exhausting\\nthought,\\nAnd hiving wisdom with each studious year,\\nIn meditation dwelt, with learning wrought,\\nAnd shaped his weapon with an edge se-\\nvere,\\nSapping a solemn creed with solemn sneer;\\nThe lord of irony, that master-spell,\\nWhich stung his foes to wrath, which grew\\nfrom fear.\\nAnd doom d him to the zealot s ready hell,\\nWhich answers to all doubts so eloquently\\nwell.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0194.jp2"}, "195": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 185\\ncvm.\\nYet, peace be with their ashes, for by them,\\nIf merited, the penalty is paid;\\nIt is not ours to judge, far less condemn;\\nThe hour must come when such things shall\\nbe made\\nKnown unto all, or hope and dread allay d\\nBy slumber on one pillow, in the dust,\\nWhich, thus much we are sure, must lie\\ndecay d;\\nAnd when it shall revive, as is our trust,\\nTwill be to be forgiven, or suffer what is just.\\ncix.\\nBut let me quit man s works, again to read\\nHis Maker s spread around me, and suspend\\nThis page, which from my reveries I feed,\\nUntil it seems prolonging without end.\\nThe clouds above me to the white Alps tend,\\nAnd I must pierce them, and survey\\nwhate er\\nMay be permitted, as my steps I bend\\nTo their most great and growing region,\\nwhere\\nThe earth to her embrace compels the powers\\nof air.", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0195.jp2"}, "196": {"fulltext": "J 86 CRUDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nItalia! too, Italia* looking on thee\\nFull flashes on the soul the light of ages,\\nSince the fierce Carthaginian almost won\\nthee?\\nTo the last halo of the chiefs and sages,\\nWho glorify thy consecrated pages,\\nThou wert the throne and grave of empires\\nstill,\\nThe fount at which the panting mind as-\\nsuages\\nHer thirst of knowledge, quaffing there her\\nfill,\\nFlows from the eternal source of Rome s in\u00c2\u00bb-\\nperial hill.\\ncxi.\\nThus far have I proceeded in a theme\\nRenew d with no kind auspices: to feel\\nWe are not what we have been, and to deem;\\nWe are not what we s houid be, and to steel\\nThe heart against itself; and to conceal,,\\nWith a proud caution, love, or hate, or\\naught,\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nPassion or feeling, purpose, grief, or zeal\\nWhich is the -tyrant spirit of our thought,\\nIs a stern task of soul-\u00e2\u0080\u0094 No matter, it is-\\ntaught.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0196.jp2"}, "197": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 187\\ncxn.\\nAnd for these words, thus woven into song,\\nIt may be that they are a harmless wile,\\nThe coloring of the scenes which fleet along,\\nWhich I would seize, in passing, to beguile\\nMy breast, or that of others, for a while.\\nFame is the thirst of youth, but I am not\\nSo young as to regard men s frown or smile\\nAs loss or guerdon of a glorious lot;\\nI stood and stand alone, remember d or for-\\ngot.\\nCXIII.\\nI have not loved the world, nor the world\\nme;\\nI have not flatter d its rank breath, nor\\nbow d\\nTo its idolatries a patient knee,\\nNor coin d my cheek to smiles, nor cried\\naloud\\nIn worship of an echo; in the crowd\\nThey could not deem me one of such I\\nstood\\nAmong them, but not of them; in a shroud\\nOf thoughts which were not their thoughts,\\nand still could,\\nHad I not filed my mind, which thus itself\\nsubdued.\\nIf it be thus,\\nFor Banquo s issue have 1 filed my mind. Macbeth.", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0197.jp2"}, "198": {"fulltext": "188 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nCXIV.\\nI have not loved the world, nor the world\\nme,\\nBut let us part fair foes: I do believe,\\nThough I have found them not, that there\\nmay be\\nWords which are things, hopes which will\\nnot deceive,\\nAnd virtues which are merciful, nor weave\\nSnares for the failing: I would also deem\\nO er other s griefs that some sincerely grieve\\nThat two, or one, are almost what they\\nseem,\\nThat goodness is no name, and happiness no\\ndream.\\ncxv.\\nMy daughter! with thy name this song be-\\ngun\\nMy daughter! with thy name thus much\\nshall end\\nI see thee not, I hear thee not, but none\\nCan be so wrapt in thee; thou art the friend\\nTo whom the shadows of far years extend:\\nAlbeit my brow thou never shouldst behold,\\nMy voice shall with thy future visions blend,\\nAnd reach into thy heart, when mine is\\ncold,", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0198.jp2"}, "199": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 189\\nA token and a tone, even from thy father s\\nmould.\\ncxvi.\\nTo aid thy mind s development, to watch\\nThy dawn of little joys, to sit and see\\nAlmost thy very growth, to view thee catch\\nKnowledge of objects, wonders yet to thee!\\nTo hold thee lightly on a gentle knee,\\nAnd print on thy soft cheek a parent s\\nkiss,\\nThis, it should seem, was not reserved for\\nme;\\nYet this was in my nature As it is,\\nI know not what is there., but something like\\nto this.\\ncxvn.\\nYet, though dull Hate as duty should be\\ntaught,\\nI know that thou wilt love me: though my\\nname\\nShould be shut from thee, as a spell still\\nfought\\nWith desolation, and a broken claim\\nThough the grave closed between us, twere\\nthe same,\\nI know that thou wilt love me; though to\\ndrain", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0199.jp2"}, "200": {"fulltext": "190 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nMy blood from out thy being were an aim,\\nAnd an attainment, all would be in vain,\\nStill thou wouldst love me, still that more than\\nlife retain.\\ncxvm.\\nThe child of love, though born in bitterness\\nAnd nurtured in convulsion. Of thy sire\\nThese were the elements, and thine no less.\\nAs yet such are around thee; but thy fire\\nShall be more temper d, and thy hope far\\nhigher.\\nSweet be thy cradled slumbers! O er the\\nsea,\\nAnd from the mountains where I now respire,\\nFain would I waft such blessing upon thee,\\nAs, with a sigh, I deem thou mightst have\\nbeen to me!", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0200.jp2"}, "201": {"fulltext": "CANTO THE FOURTH.\\n1818.\\nTO JOHN HOBHOUSE, ESQ., A.M., F.R.S., ETC.\\nVenice, January 2, 1818.\\nMy Dear Hobhouse:\u00e2\u0080\u0094 After an interval of\\neight years between the composition of the\\nfirst and last cantos of Childe Harold, the con-\\nclusion of the poem is about to be submitted to\\nthe public. In parting- with so old a friend it\\nis not extraordinary that I should recur to one\\nstill older and better, \u00e2\u0080\u0094to one who has beheld\\nthe birth and death of the other, and to whom\\n1 am far more indebted for the social advan-\\ntages of an enlightened friendship, than\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nthough not ungrateful-I can, or could be, to\\nChilde Harold, for any public favor reflected\\nthrough the poem on the poet,\u00e2\u0080\u0094 to one whom\\nl have known long and accompanied far, whom\\nI have found wakeful over my sickness and\\nkind in my sorrow, glad in my prosperity and\\nfirm in my adversity, true in counsel and trusty\\nin peril,\u00e2\u0080\u0094 to a friend often tried and never\\nfound wanting;\u00e2\u0080\u0094 to yourself.\\nIn so doing, I recur from fiction to truth\\nand in dedicating to you, in its complete, or at\\nleast concluded state, a poetical work which is\\nthe longest, the most thoughtful and compre-\\n191", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0201.jp2"}, "202": {"fulltext": "192 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nhensive of my compositions, I wish to do honor\\nto myself by the record of many years inti-\\nmacy with a man of learning, of talent, of\\nsteadiness, and of honor. It is not for minds\\nlike ours to give or to receive flattery; yet the\\npraises of sincerity have ever been permitted\\nto the voice of friendship and it is not for you,\\nnor even for others, but to relieve a heart\\nwhich has not elsewhere, or lately, been so\\nmuch accustomed to the encounter of good-will\\nas to withstand the shock firmly, that I thus\\nmpt to commemorate your good qualities,\\nor rather the advantages which I have derived\\nfrom their exertion. Even the recurrence of\\nthe date of this letter, the anniversary of the\\nmost unfortunate day of my past existence,*\\nbut which cannot poison my future while I re-\\ntain the resource of your friendship, and of my\\nown faculties, will henceforth have a more\\nagreeable recollection for both, inasmuch as it\\nwill remind us of this my attempt to thank you\\nfor an indefatigable regard, such as few men\\nhave experienced, and no one could experience\\nwithout thinking better of his species and of\\nhimself.\\nIt has been our fortune to traverse together,\\nat various periods, the countries of chivalry,\\nhistory, and fable\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Spain, Greece, Asia Minor,\\nand Italy; and what Athens and Constanti-\\nnople were to us a few years ago. Venice and\\nRome have been more recently. The poem\\nalso, or the pilgrim, or both, have accompa-\\n*His Marriage.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0202.jp2"}, "203": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 193\\nnied me from first to last; and perhaps it may\\nbe a pardonable vanity which induces me to\\nreflect with complacency on a composition\\nwhich in some degree connects me with the\\nspot where it was produced, and the objects it\\nwould fain describe; and however unworthy it\\nmay be deemed of those magical and memor-\\nable abodes, however short it may fall of our\\ndistant conceptions and immediate impressions,\\nyet as a mark of respect for what is venerable,\\nand of feeling for what is glorious, it has been\\nto me a source of p 1 easure in the production,\\nand I part with it with a kind of regret, which\\nI hardly suspected that events could have left\\nme for imaginary objects.\\nWith regard to the conduct of the last canto,\\nthere will be found less of the pilgrim than in\\nany of the preceding, and that little slightly,\\nif at all, separated from the author speaking in\\nhis own person. The fact is, that I had become\\nweary of drawing a line which every one\\nseemed determined not to perceive like the\\nChinese in Goldsmith s Citizen of the World,\\nwhom nobody would believe to be a Chinese, it\\nwas in vain that I asserted, and imagined that\\nI had drawn, a distinction between the author\\nand the pilgrim and the very anxiety to pre-\\nserve this difference, and disappointment at\\nfinding it unavailing, so far crushed my efforts\\nin the composition, that I determined to aban-\\ndon it altogether and have done so. The\\nopinions which have been, or may be, formed\\non that subject, are now a matter of indiffer-\\nence the work is to depend on itself and not\\n13", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0203.jp2"}, "204": {"fulltext": "194 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\non the writer; and the author, who has no re-\\nsources in his own mind beyond the reputation,\\ntransient or permanent, which is to arise from\\nhis literary efforts, deserves the fate of authors.\\nIn the course of the following canto it was\\nmy intention, either in the text or in the notes,\\nto have touched upon the present state of Ital-\\nian literature, and perhaps of manners. But\\nthe text, within the limits I proposed, I soon\\nfound hardly sufficient for the labyrinth of ex-\\nternal objects, and the consequent reflections;\\nand for the whole of the notes, excepting a few\\nof the shortest, I am indebted to yourself, and\\nthese were necessarily limited to the elucida-\\ntion of the text.\\nIt is also a delicate, and no very grateful\\ntask, to dissert upon the literature and man-\\nners of a nation so dissimilar; and requires an\\nattention and impartiality which would induce\\nus though perhaps no inattentive observers,\\nnor ignorant of the language or customs of the\\npeople amongst whom we have recently abode\\nto distrust, or at least defer our judgment,\\nand more narrowly examine our information.\\nThe state of literary as well as political party\\nappears to run, or to have run, so high, that\\nfor a stranger to steer impartially between\\nthem is next to impossible. It may be enough,\\nthen, at least for my purpose, to quote from\\ntheir own beautiful language Mi pare che\\nin un passe tutto, poetico, che vanta la lingua\\nla piu nobile ed insieme la piu dolce, tutte\\ntutte le vie diverse si possono tentare, e che\\nsinche la patria di Alfieri e di Monti non ha", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0204.jp2"}, "205": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 195\\nperduto l antico valore, in tutte essa doverbbe\\nessere la prima. Italy has great names still:\\nCanova, Monti, Ugo Foscolo, Pindemonte,\\nVisconti, Morelli, Cicognara, Albrizzi, Mezzo-\\nphanti, Mai, Mustoxidi, Aglietti, and Vacca,\\nwill secure to the present generation an hon-\\norable place in most of the departments of art,\\nscience, and belles lettres: and in some the\\nvery highest. Europe the World has but\\none Canova.\\nIt has been somewhere said by Alfieri, that\\nLa pianta uomo nasce piu robusta in Italia\\nche in qualunque altra terra e che gli stessi\\natroci delitti che vi si commettono ne sono una\\nprova. Without subscribing to the latter\\npart of his proposition a dangerous doctrine,\\nthe truth of which may be disputed on better\\ngrounds, namely, that the Italians are in no\\nrespect more ferocious than their neighbors\\nthat man must be willfully blind, or ignorantly\\nheedless, who is not struck with the extraordi-\\nnary capacity of this people, or, if such a word\\nbe admissible, their capabilities, the facility\\nof their acquisitions, the rapidity of their con-\\nceptions, the fire of their genius, their sense of\\nbeauty, and amidst all the disadvantages of\\nrepeated revolutions, the desolation of battles,\\nand the despair of ages, their still unquenched\\nlonging after immortality the immortality\\nof independence. And when we ourselves, in\\nriding round the walls of Rome, heard the\\nsimple lament of the laborers chorus, Roma!\\nRoma! Roma? Roma non e piu come era\\nprima, it was difficult not to contrast this mel-", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0205.jp2"}, "206": {"fulltext": "196 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nancholy dirge with the bacchanal roar of the\\nsongs of exultation still yelled from the Lon-\\ndon taverns, over the carnage of Mont St.\\nJean, and the betrayal of Genoa, of Italy, of\\nFrance, and of the world, by men whose con-\\nduct you yourself have exposed in a work wor-\\nthy of the better days of our history. For\\nme,\\nNon movero mai corda\\nOve la turba di sue ciance assorda.\\nWhat Italy has gained by the late transfer\\nof nations, it were useless for Englishmen to\\ninquire, till it becomes ascertained that Eng-\\nland has acquired something more than a per-\\nmanent army and a suspended Habeas Corpus;\\nit is enough for them to look at home. For\\nwhat they have done abroad, and especially in\\nthe south, verily they will have their reward,\\nand at no very distant period.\\nWishing you, my dear Hobhouse, a safe and\\nagreeable return to that country whose real\\nwelfare can be dearer to none than to yourself,\\nI dedicate to you this poem in its completed\\nstate; and repeat once more how truly I am\\never, your obliged and affectionate friend.\\nByron.\\nI stood in Venice, on the Bridge ot Sighs;\\nA palace and a prison on each hand:\\nI saw from out the wave her structures rise\\nAs from the stroke of the enchanter s wand:", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0206.jp2"}, "207": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 197\\nA thousand years their cloudy wings expand\\nAround me, and a dying Glory smiles\\nO er the far times when many a subject land\\nLooked to the winged Lion s marble piles,\\nWhere Venice sate in state, throned on her\\nhundred isles!\\nii.\\nShe looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean,\\nRising with her tiara of proud towers\\nAt airy distance, with majestic motion,\\nA ruler of the waters and their powers;\\nAnd such she was; her daughters had their\\ndowers\\nFrom spoils of nations, and the exhaustless\\nEast\\nPour d in her lap all gems in sparkling\\nshowers.\\nIn purple was she robed, and of her feast\\nMonarchs partook, and deem d their dignity\\nincreased.\\nin.\\nIn Venice, Tasso s echoes are no more,\\nAnd silent rows the songless gondolier;\\nHer palaces are crumbling to the shore,\\nAnd music meets not always now the ear:\\nThose days are gone but Beauty still is\\nhere.", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0207.jp2"}, "208": {"fulltext": "198 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nStates fall, arts fade but Nature doth not\\ndie.\\nNor yet forget how Venice once was dear,\\nThe pleasant place of all festivity,\\nThe revel of the earth, the masque of Italy!\\nIV.\\nRut unto us she hath a spell beyond\\nHer name in story, and her long array\\nIf mighty shadows, whose dim forms des-\\npond\\nAbove the Dogeless city s vanish d sway.\\nOurs is a trophy which will not decay\\nWith the Rial to; Shylock and the Moor,\\nAnd Pierre, cannot be swept or worn away\\nThe keystones of the arch! though all were\\no\\\\\\nFor us repeopled were the solitary shore.\\nv.\\nThe beings of the mind are not of clay;\\nEssentially immortal, they create\\nAnd multiply in us a brighter ray\\nAnd more beloved existence; that which\\nFate\\nProhibits to dull life, in this our state\\nOf mortal bondage, by these spirits supplied\\nFirst exiles, then replaces what we hate;", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0208.jp2"}, "209": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 199\\nWatering the heart whose early flowers have\\ndied,\\nAnd with a fresher growth replenishing the\\nvoid.\\nVI.\\nSuch is the refuge of our youth and age,\\nThe first from Hope, the last from Vacancy\\nAnd this worn feeling peoples many a page,\\nAnd, may be, that which grows beneath mine\\neye:\\nYet there are things whose strong reality\\nOutshines our fairy-land, in shape and hues\\nMore beautiful than our fantastic sky,\\nAnd the strange constellations which the\\nMuse\\nO er her wild universe is skilful to diffuse:\\nVII.\\nI saw or dream d of such,\u00e2\u0080\u0094 but let them go\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nThey came like truth, and disappear d like\\ndreams\\nAnd whatsoe er they were are now but so;\\nI could replace them if I would still teems\\nMy mind with many a form which aptly\\nseems\\nSuch as I sought for, and at moments found\\nLet these too go\u00e2\u0080\u0094 for waking reason deems\\nSuch overweening phantasies unsound", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0209.jp2"}, "210": {"fulltext": "200 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nAnd other voices speak, and other sights sur-\\nround.\\nVIII.\\nI ve taught me other tongues, and in strange\\neyes\\nHave made me not a stranger; to the mind\\nWhich is itself, no changes bring surprise;\\nNor is it harsh to make nor hard to find\\nA country with ay, or without mankind;\\nYet was I born where men are proud to be,\\nNot without cause and should I leave behind\\nThe inviolate island of the sage and free.\\nAnd seek me out a home by a remoter sea\\nIX.\\nPerhaps I loved it well: and should 1 lay\\nMy ashes in a soil which is not mine,\\nMy spirit shall resume it if we may\\nUnbodied choose a sanctuary. I twine\\nMy hopes of being re member d in my line\\nWith my land s language if too fond and far\\nThese aspirations in their scope incline,\\nIf my fame should be, as my fortunes are,\\nOf hasty growth and blight, and dull Oblivion\\nbar\\nx.\\nMy name from out the temple where the\\ndead", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0210.jp2"}, "211": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 201\\nAre honor d by the nations\u00e2\u0080\u0094 let it be\\nAnd light the laurels on a loftier head\\nAnd be the Spartan s epitaph on me\\nSparta hath many a worthier son than he.\\nMeantime I seek no sympathies, nor need;\\nThe thorns which I have reap d are of the\\ntree\\nI planted, they have torn me, and I bleed:\\nI should have known what fruit would spring\\nfrom such a seed.\\nXI.\\nThe spouseless Adriatic mourns her lord;\\nAnd, annual marriage now no more renew d,\\nThe Bucentaur lies rotting unrestored,\\nNeglected garment of her widowhood!\\nSt. Mark yet sees his lion where he stood\\nStand, but in mockery of his wither d power,\\nOver the proud Place where an Emperor\\nsued,\\nAnd monarchs gazed and envied in the hour\\nWhen Venice was a queen with an unequal d\\ndower.\\nXII.\\nThe Suabian sued, and now the Austrian\\nreigns\\nThe answer of the mother of Brasidas, the Lacedaemonian\\ngeneral, to the strangers who praised the memory of her son.", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0211.jp2"}, "212": {"fulltext": "202 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nAn Emperor tramples where an Emperor\\nknelt;\\nKingdoms are shrunk to provinces, and\\nchains\\nClank over sceptred cities; nations melt\\nFrom power s high pinnacle, when they have\\nfelt\\nThe sunshine for a while, and downward go\\nLike lauwine loosened from the mountain s\\nbelt:\\nOh for one hour of blind old Dandolo!\\nTh octogenarian chief, Byzantium s conquer-\\ning foe.\\nXIII.\\nBefore St. Mark still glow his steeds of\\nbrass,\\nTheir gilded collars glittering in the sun;\\nBut is not Doria s menace come to pass?\\nAre they not bridled:* Venice, lost and won,\\nHer thirteen hundred years of freedom done,\\nSinks, like a sea- weed, into whence she rose!\\nBetter be whelm d beneath the waves, and\\nshun,\\nEven in Destruction s depth, her foreign\\nfoes,\\nFrom whom submission wrings an infamous\\nrepose.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0212.jp2"}, "213": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 203\\nxiv.\\nIn youth she was all glory, a new Tyre,\\nHer very byword sprung from victory,\\nThe Planter of the Lion, which through\\nfire\\nAnd blood she bore o er subject earth and\\nsea;\\nThough making many slaves, herself still\\nfree,\\nAnd Europe s bulwark gainst the Ottomite:\\nWitness Troy s rival, Candia! Vouch it, ye\\nImmoral waves that saw Lepanto s fight!\\nFor ye are names no time nor tyranny can\\nblight.\\nxv.\\nStatues of glass all shiver d the long file\\nOf her dead Doges are declined to dust;\\nBut where they dwelt, the vast and sumptu-\\nous pile\\nBespeaks the pageant of their splendid trust;\\nTheir sceptre broken, and their sword in rust,\\nHave yielded to the stranger: empty halls,\\nThin streets, and foreign aspects, such as\\nmust\\nToo oft remind her who and what enthrals,\\nThat is the Lion of St. Mark, the standard of the republic,\\nwhich is the origin of the word Pantaloon\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Piantaleone, Panta-\\nleon, Pantaloon.", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0213.jp2"}, "214": {"fulltext": "204 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nHave flung a desolate cloud o er Venice s\\nlovely walls.\\nXVI.\\nWhen Athens armies fell at Syracuse,\\nAnd fetter d thousands bore the yoke of war.\\nRedemption rose up in the Attic Muse\\nII or voice tl ransom from afar:\\nSee y chant the tragic hymn, the car\\nOf the o ermaster d victor stnps, the reins\\n11 from his hand th imitar\\nStarts belt he rends his captive s\\nchains,\\nAnd bids him thank the bard for freedom and\\nXVII.\\nThus, Venice, if no stronger claim were\\nthine,\\nWere ail thy proud historic deeds forgot,\\nThy coral memory of the Bard divine,\\nThy love of Tasso, should have cut the knot\\nWhich ties thee to thy tyrants; and thy lot\\nIs shameful to the nations, most of all,\\nAlbion! to thee; the Ocean Queen should not\\nAbandon Ocean s children; in the fall\\nOf Venice think of thine, despite thy watery\\nwall.\\nThe story is told in Plutarch s Life of Nicias.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0214.jp2"}, "215": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 205\\nXVIII.\\nI loved her from my boyhood she to me\\nWas as a fairy city of the heart,\\nRising like water-columns from the sea,\\nOf joy the sojourn, and of wealth the mart;\\nAnd Otway, Radcliffe, Schiller, Shakspeare s\\nart,*\\nHad stamp d her image in me, and even so,\\nAlthough I found her thus, we did not part,\\nPerchance even dearer in her day of woe,\\nThan when she was a boast, a marvel, and a\\nshow.\\nXIX.\\nI can repeople with the past and of\\nThe present there is still for eye and thought,\\nAnd meditation chasten d down, enough;\\nAnd more, it may be, than I hoped or sought;\\nAnd of the happiest moments which were\\nwrought\\nWithin the web of my existence, some\\nFrom thee, fair Venice! have their colors\\ncaught:\\nThere are some feelings Time can not be-\\nnumb,\\nNor torture shake, or mine would now be cold\\nand dumb.\\n\u00e2\u0099\u00a6Venice Preserved: Mysteries of Udolpho- The Ghost-Seer,\\nor Armenian: The Merchant of Venice. Othello.", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0215.jp2"}, "216": {"fulltext": "206 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nxx.\\nBut from their nature will the tannen grow*\\nLoftiest on loftiest and least shelter d rocks,\\nRooted in barrenness, where nought below\\nOf soil supports them gainst the Alpine\\nshocks\\nOf eddying storms; yet springs the trunk,\\nand mocks\\nThe howling tempest, till its height and\\nframe\\nAre worthy of the mountains from whose\\nblocks\\nbleak, gray granite, into life it came,\\nAnd grew a giant tree; the mind may grow\\nthe same.\\nXXI.\\nExisten.ee may be borne, and the deep root\\nlife and sufferance makes its firm abode\\nIn bare and desolate bosoms: mute\\nThe camel labors with the heaviest load,\\nI the wolf dies in silen Not estow d\\nIn vain should such examples be; if they.\\nThings of ignoble or of savage mood,\\nEndure and shrink not, we of nobler clay\\nMay temper it to bear, it is but for a day.\\nTannea is the plural of tanne, a species of fir peculiar to the\\nAlps, which only thrives in very rocky parts, where scarcely soil\\nsufficient for its nourishment can be found. On these spots it\\ngrows to a greater height than any other mountain tree.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0216.jp2"}, "217": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 207\\nXXII.\\nAll suffering doth destroy, or is destroy d,\\nEven by the sufferer; and, in each event,\\nEnds: Some, with hope replenish d and\\nrebuoy d,\\nReturn to whence they came with like\\nintent,\\nAnd weave their web again; some, bow d\\nand bent,\\nWax gray and ghastly, withering ere their\\ntime,\\nAnd perish with the reed on which they\\nleant;\\nSome seek devotion, toil, war, good or crime,\\nAccording as their souls were form d to sink\\nor climb.\\nXXIII.\\nBut ever and anon of griefs subdued\\nThere comes a token like a scorpion s sting,\\nScarce seen, but with fresh bitterness im-\\nbued:\\nAnd slight withal may be the things which\\nbring\\nBack on the heart the weight which it would\\nfling\\nAside for ever: it may be a sound\\nA tone of music summer s eve or spring", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0217.jp2"}, "218": {"fulltext": "208 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nA flower the wind the ocean which shall\\nwound,\\nStriking- the electric chain wherewith we are\\ndarkly bound:\\nXXIV.\\nAnd how and why we know not, nor can\\ntrace\\nHome to its cloud this lightning of the mind,\\nfeel the shock renew d, nor can efface\\nThe blight and blackening which it leaves\\nbehind,\\nWhich out of things familiar, undesign d,\\nWhen least we deem of such, calls up to view\\nThe spectres whom no exorcism can bind,\\nThe cold the changed perchance the dead\\nanew,\\nThe mourn d, the loved, the lost too many!\\nyet how few!\\nXXV.\\nBut my soul wanders: I demand it back\\nTo meditate amongst decay, and stand\\nA ruin amidst ruins; there to track\\nFallen states and buried greatness, o er a\\nland\\nWhich was the mightiest in its old command,\\nAnd is the loveliest, and must ever be", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0218.jp2"}, "219": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 209\\nThe master-mould of Nature s heavenly-\\nhand,\\nWherein were cast the heroic and the free,\\nThe beautiful, the brave the lords of earth\\nand sea.\\nXXVI.\\nThe commonwealth of kings, the men of\\nRome!\\nAnd even since, and now, fair Italy!\\nThou art the garden of the world, the home\\nOf all Art yields, and Nature can decree;\\nEven in thy desert, what is like to thee?\\nThy very weeds are beautiful, thy waste\\nMore rich than other climes fertility;\\nThy wreck a glory, and thy ruin graced\\nWith an immaculate charm which cannot be\\ndefaced.\\nXXVII.\\nThe moon is up, and yet it is not night\\nSunset divides the sky with her a sea\\nOf glory streams along the Alpine height\\nOf blue Friuli s mountains: Heaven is free\\nFrom clouds, but of all colors seems to be\\nMelted to one vast Iris of the West,\\nWhere the Day joins the past Eternity;\\nWhile, on the other hand, meek Dian s crest\\nu", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0219.jp2"}, "220": {"fulltext": "210 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nFloats through the azure air an island of the\\nblest!\\nXXVIII.\\nA single star is at her side, and reigns\\nWith her o er half the lovely heaven; but\\nstill\\nYon sunny sea heaves brightly, and remains\\nRoll d o er the peak of the far Rhuetian hill,\\nAs Day and Night contending were, until\\nNature reclaim d her order: gently flows\\nThe deep-dyed Brenta, where their hues instil\\nThe odorous purple of a new-born rose,\\nWhich streams upon her stream, and glass d\\nwithin it glows.\\nXXIX.\\nFill d with the face of heaven, which, from\\nafar,\\nComes down upon the waters; all its hues,\\nFrom the rich sunset to the rising star,\\nTheir magical variety diffuse:\\nAnd now they change a paler shadow strews\\nIts mantle o er the mountains, parting day\\nDies like the dolphin, whom each pang\\nimbues\\nWith a new color as it gasps away,\\nThe last still loveliest, till tis gone and all\\nis gray.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0220.jp2"}, "221": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 211\\nxxx.\\nThere is a tomb in Arqua; rear d in air,\\nPillar d in their sarcophagus, repose\\nThe bones of Laura s lover: here repair\\nMany familiar with his well-sung woes,\\nThe pilgrims of his genius. He arose\\nTo raise a language, and his land reclaim\\nFrom the dull yoke of her barbaric foes:\\nWatering the tree which bears his lady s\\nname\\nWith his melodious tears, he gave himself to\\nfame.\\nXXXI.\\nThey keep his dust in Arqua, where he died;\\nThe mountain-village where his latter days\\nWent down the vale of years; and tis their\\npride\\nAn honest pride and let it be their praise.\\nTo offer to the passing stranger s gaze\\nHis mansion and his sepulchre; both plain\\nAnd venerably simple, such as raise\\nA feeling more accordant with his strain,\\nThan if a pyramid form d his monumental fane.\\nXXXII.\\nAnd the soft quiet hamlet where he dwelt\\nIs one of that complexion which seems made\\nFor those who their mortality have felt,", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0221.jp2"}, "222": {"fulltext": "212 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nAnd sought a rei a their hopes de\\nIn the deep uml shade,\\n)f busy cil play d.\\nthe ray\\n3 ht sun can n -at holi\\nX X X I I\\nthe mountain and\\nI shining in the brawling whereby,\\ntering\\nhours\\nh a calm languor, which, though to the\\neye\\nhath it\\nTis solitude si ich us h lie;\\nIt hath no flatterers; m give\\nNo hoi: alone man with his God must\\nrve;\\nXXX IV.\\nOr, it may be, with demons, who impair\\nThe strength of better thoughts, and seek\\ntheir prey\\nIn melancholy bosoms, such as were\\nmoody texture from their earliest day,\\nAnd loved to dwell in darkness and dismay,", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0222.jp2"}, "223": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 213\\nDeeming themselves predestined to a doom\\nWhich is not of the pangs that pass away;\\nMaking the sun like blood, the earth a tomb.\\nThe tomb a hell, and hell itself a murkier\\ngloom.\\nxxxv.\\nFerrara! in thy wide and grass-grown\\nstreets,\\nWhose symmetry was not for solitude,\\nThere seems as twere a curse upon the seats\\nOf former sovereigns, and the antique brood\\nOf Este, which for many an age made good\\nIts strength within thy walls, and was of yore\\nPatron or tyrant, as the changing mood\\nOf petty power impell d, of those who wore\\nThe wreath which Dante s brow alone had\\nworn before.\\nxxxvi.\\nAnd Tasso is their glory and their shame.\\nHark to his strain and then survey his cell!\\nAnd see how dearly earn d Torquato s fame,\\nAnd where Alfonso bade his poet dwell.\\nThe miserable despot could not quell\\nThe insulted mind he sought to quench, and\\nblend\\nWith the surrounding maniacs, in the hell\\nWhere he had plunged it. Glory without end", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0223.jp2"}, "224": {"fulltext": "214 CH1LDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nScatter d the clouds away\u00e2\u0080\u0094 and on that name\\nattend.\\nxxxvn.\\nThe tears and praises of all time, while thine\\nWould rot in its oblivion in the sink\\nof worthless dust, which from thy boasted\\nline\\nIs shaken into nothing; but the link\\nThou formest in 1ms fortunes bids us think\\nthy poor malice, naming thee with scorn\\nAH how thy ducal pageants shrink\\nFrom thee if in another station born,\\nbe the I him thou mad st to\\nmourn.\\nXXXVIII.\\nThou form d to eat, and and\\nEven as the that thou\\nlendid trough, and wider sty;\\nHe! with a glory round his furrow d brow,\\nDated then, and\\nIn face of all fa -can quire.\\nAnd Boileau, whose rash envy could allow\\nX strain which shamed his country s creak-\\ning lyre,\\nThat whetstone of the teeth\u00e2\u0080\u0094 monotony in\\nwire!", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0224.jp2"}, "225": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 215\\nXXXIX.\\nPeace to Torquato s injured shade! twas his\\nIn life and death to be the mark where Wrong\\nAim d with her poison d arrows but to miss.\\nOh, victor unsurpass d in modern song!\\nEach year brings forth its millions; but how\\nlong\\nThe tide of generations shall roll on,\\nAnd not the whole combined and countless\\nthrong\\nCompose a mind like thine Though all in\\none\\nCondensed their scatter d rays, they would not\\nform a sun.\\nXL.\\nGreat as thou art, yet parallel d by those,\\nThy countrymen, before thee born to shine,\\nThe Bards of Hell and Chivalry: first rose\\nThe Tuscan father s comedy divine,\\nThen, not unequal to the Florentine,\\nThe southern Scott, the minstrel who call d\\nforth\\nA new creation with his magic line,\\nAnd, like the Ariosto of the North,\\nSang lady-love and war, romance and knightly\\nworth.", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0225.jp2"}, "226": {"fulltext": "216 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nXLI.\\nThe lightning rent from Ariosto s bust\\nThe iron crown of laurel s mimck d leaves;\\nNor was the ominous element unjust.\\nFor the true laurel- wreath which Glory\\nweaves\\nIs of the tree no bolt of thunder cleaves,\\nAnd the false semblance but disgraced his\\nbrow\\nYet still, if fondly Superstition grieves.\\nKnow that the lightning sanctifies below\\nWhate er it strikes; yon head is doubly sacred\\nnow.\\nXLI I.\\nItalia! O Italia! thou who hast\\nThe fatal gift of beauty, which became\\nA funeral dower of present woes and past,\\nOn thy sweet brow is sorrow ploughed by\\nshame,\\nAnd annals graved in characters of flame.\\nO God! that thou wert in thy nakedness\\nLess lovely or more powerful, and couldst\\nclaim\\nThy right, and awe the robbers back, who\\npress\\nTo shed thy blood, and drink the tears of thy\\ndistress;", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0226.jp2"}, "227": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 217\\nXLIII.\\nThen mightst thou more appal; or, less\\ndesired,\\nBe homely and be peaceful, undeplored\\nFor thy destructive charms; then, still\\nun tired,\\nWould not be seen the armed torrents pour d\\nDown the deep Alps; nor would the hostile\\nhorde\\nOf many-nation d spoilers from the Po\\nQuaff blood and water; nor the stranger s\\nsword\\nBe thy sad weapon of defence, and so,\\nVictor or vanquish d, thou the slave of friend\\nor foe.\\nXLIV.\\nWandering in youth I traced the path of\\nhim,\\nThe Roman friend of Rome s least mortal\\nmind,\\nThe friend of Tully: as my bark did skim\\nThe bright blue waters with a fanning wind,\\nCame Megara before me, and behind\\n^Egina lay, Piraeus on the right,\\nAnd Corinth on the left; I lay reclined\\nAlong the prow, and saw all these unite\\nIn ruin, even as he had seen the desolate sight", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0227.jp2"}, "228": {"fulltext": "218 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nXLV.\\nFor time hath not rebuilt them, but uprear d\\nBarbaric dwellings on their shatter d site,\\nWhich only make more mourn d and more\\nendear d\\nThe few last rays of their far-scatter d light,\\nAnd the crush d relics of their vanish d\\nmight.\\nThe Roman saw these tombs in his own age,\\nThese sepulchres of cities, which excite\\nSad wonder, and his yet surviving page\\nThe moral lesson bears, drawn from such pil-\\ngrimage.\\nXLVI.\\nThat page is now before me, and on mine\\nHis country s ruin added to the mass\\nOf perish d states he mourn d in their\\ndecline,\\nAnd I in desolation all that was\\nOf then destruction is; and now, alas!\\nRome Rome imperial, bows her to the\\nstorm,\\nIn the same dust and blackness, and we pass\\nThe skeleton of her Titanic form,\\nWrecks of another world, whose ashes still are\\nwarm.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0228.jp2"}, "229": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 219\\nXL VII.\\nYet, Italy! through every other land\\nThy wrongs should ring, and shall, from side\\nto side;\\nMother of Arts! as once of Arms; thy hand\\nWas then our guardian, and is still our guide\\nParent of our Religion whom the wide\\nNations have knelt to for the keys of heaven!\\nEurope, repentant of her parricide,\\nShall yet redeem thee, and, all backward\\ndriven,\\nRoll the barbarian tide, and sue to be forgiven.\\nXL VIII.\\nBut Arno wins us to the fair white walls,\\nWhere the Etrurian Athens claims and keeps\\nA softer feeling for her fairy halls.\\nGirt by her theatre of hills, she reaps\\nHer corn, and wine, and oil, and Plenty leaps\\nTo laughing life, with her redundant horn.\\nAlong the banks where smiling Arno sweeps,\\nWas modern Luxury of Commerce born,\\nAnd buried Learning rose, redeem d to a new\\nmorn.\\nXLIX.\\nThere, too, the Goddess loves in stone, and\\nfills\\nThe air around with beauty we inhale", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0229.jp2"}, "230": {"fulltext": "220 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nThe ambrosial aspect which, beheld, instils\\nPart of its immortality; the veil\\nOf heaven is half undrawn within the pale\\nWe stand, and in that form and face behold\\nWhat Mind can make, when Nature s self\\nwould fail;\\nAnd to the fond idolaters of old\\nEnvy the innate Hash which such a soul could\\nmould\\nL.\\nWe gaze and turn away, and know not where,\\nDazzled and drunk with beauty till the heart\\nReels with its fulness there for ever there\\nChain d to the chariot of triumphal Art,\\nWe stand as captives, and would not depart.\\nAway! there need no words, nor terms\\nprecise,\\nThe paltry jargon of the marble mart,\\nWhere Pedantry gulls Folly we have eyes:\\nBlood, pulse, and breast, confirm the Dardan\\nShepherd s prize.\\nLI.\\nAppear dst thou not to Paris in this guise?\\nOr to more deeply blest Anchises? or,\\nIn all thy perfect goddess-ship, when lies\\nBefore thee thy own vanquish d Lord of\\nWar?", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0230.jp2"}, "231": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 221\\nAnd gazing in thy face as toward a star,\\nLaid on thy lap, his eyes to thee upturn,\\nFeeding on thy sweet cheek while thy lips\\nare\\nWith lava kisses melting while they burn,\\nShower d on his eyelids, brow, and mouth, as\\nfrom an urn!\\nLII.\\nGlowing, and circumfused in speechless love,\\nTheir full divinity inadequate\\nThat feeling to express, or to improve,\\nThe gods become as mortals, and man s fate\\nHas moments like their brightest! but the\\nweight\\nOf earth recoils upon us;\u00e2\u0080\u0094 let it go!\\nWe can recall such visions, and create\\nFrom what has been, or might be, things\\nwhich grow,\\nInto thy statue s form, and look like gods\\nbelow.\\nLIU.\\nI leave to learned fingers, and wise hands,\\nThe artist and his ape, to teach and tell\\nHow well his connoisseurship understands\\nThe graceful bend, and the voluptuous swell:\\nLet these describe the undescribable\\nI would not their vile breath should crisp the\\nstream", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0231.jp2"}, "232": {"fulltext": "222 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nWherein that image shall for ever dwell;\\nThe unruffled mirror of the loveliest dream\\nThat ever left the sky on the deep soul to beam.\\nL1V.\\nIn Santa Croce s holy precincts lie\\nAshes which make it holier, dust, which is\\nEven in itself an immortality,\\nThough there were nothing save the past,\\nand this\\nThe particle of those sublimities\\nWhich have relapsed to chaos: here repose\\nAn. Alfieri s bones, and his.\\nThe starry Galileo, with his woes;\\nHere Machiavelli s earth returned to whence it\\nrose.\\nLV.\\nThese are four minds, which, like the ele-\\nments,\\nMight furnish forth creation: Italy!\\nTime, which hath wrong d thee with ten\\nthousand rents\\nOf thine imperial garment, shall deny,\\nAnd hath denied, to every other sky,\\nSpirits which soar from ruin they decay\\nIs still impregnate with divinity,\\nWhich gilds it with revivifying ray;\\nSuch as the great of yore, Canova is to-day.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0232.jp2"}, "233": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 223\\nLVI.\\nBut where repose the all Etruscan three-\\nDante, and Petrarch, and, scarce less than\\nthey,\\nThe Bard of Prose, creative spirit! he\\nOf the Hundred Tales of love\u00e2\u0080\u0094 where did\\nthey lay\\nTheir bones, distinguish d from our common\\nclay\\nIn death as life? Are they resolved to dust,\\nAnd have their country s marbles nought to\\nsay?\\nCould not her quarries furnish forth one bust?\\nDid they not to her breast their filial earth\\nentrust?\\nLVII.\\nUngrateful Florence Dante sleeps afar,\\nLike Scipio, buried by the upbraiding shore\\nThy factions, in their worse than civil war,\\nProscribed the bard whose name for evermore\\nTheir children s children would in vain adore\\nWith the remorse of ages and the crown\\nWhich Petrarch s laureate brow supremely\\nwore,\\nUpon a far and foreign soil had grown,\\nHis life, his fame, his grave, though rifled\u00e2\u0080\u0094 not\\nthine own.", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0233.jp2"}, "234": {"fulltext": "224 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nLVIII.\\nBoccaccio to his parent earth bequeathed\\nHis dust, and lies it not her Great among,\\nWith many a sweet and solemn requiem\\nbreathed\\nO er him who form d the Tuscan s siren\\ntongue?\\nThat music in itself, whose sounds are song,\\nThe poetry of speech? No: even his tomb,\\nUptorn, must bear the hyaena bigots wrong,\\nNo more amidst the meaner dead find room,\\nNor claim a passing sigh, because it told for\\nwhom!\\nLIX.\\nAnd Santa Croce wants their mighty dust;\\nYet for this want more noted, as of yore\\nThe Caesar s pageant, shorn of Brutus bust,\\nDid but of Rome s best son remind her\\nmore\\nHappier Ravenna! on thy hoary shore,\\nFortress of falling empire! honor d sleeps\\nThe immortal exile: Arqua, too, her store\\nOf tuneful relics proudly claims and keeps,\\nWhile Florence vainly begs her banish d dead,\\nand weeps.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0234.jp2"}, "235": {"fulltext": "My bark did skim the bright blue waters. Page 217.\\nChilde Harolds Pilgrimage.", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0235.jp2"}, "236": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0236.jp2"}, "237": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 225\\nLX.\\nWhat is her pyramid of precious stones?\\nOf prphyry, jasper, agate, and all hues\\nOf gem and marble, to encrust the bones\\nOf merchant-dukes? the momentary dews\\nWhich, sparkling to the twilight stars, infuse\\nFreshness in the green turf that wraps the\\ndead,\\nWhose names are mausoleums of the Muse,\\nAre gently prest with far more reverent\\ntread\\nThan ever paced the slab which paves the\\nprincely head.\\nLXI.\\nThere be more things to greet the heart and\\neyes\\nIn Arno s dome of Art s most princely shrine,\\nWhere Sculpture with her rainbow sister\\nvies\\nThere be more marvels yet but not for\\nmine;\\nFor I have been accustom d to entwine\\nMy thoughts with nature rather in the fields,\\nThan Art in galleries though a work divine\\nCalls for my spirit s homage, yet it yields\\nLess than it feels, because the weapon which it\\nwields\\n15", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0237.jp2"}, "238": {"fulltext": "226 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nLXII.\\nIs of another temper, and I roam\\nBy Thrasimene s lake, in the defiles\\nFatal to Roman rashness, more at home;\\nFor there the Carthaginian s warlike wiles\\nCome back before me, as his skill beguiles\\nThe host between the mountains and the\\nshore,\\nWhere Courage falls in her despairing files,\\nAnd torrents, swoll n to rivers with their\\ngore,\\nReek through the sultry plain, with legions\\nscatter d o er.\\nLXIII.\\nLike to a forest fell d by mountain, winds;\\nAnd such the storm of battle on this day,\\nAnd such the frenzy, whose convulsion blinds\\nTo all save carnage, that, beneath the fray,\\nAn earthquake reel d unheecledly away!\\nNone felt stern Nature rocking at his feet,\\nAnd yawning forth a grave for those who lay\\nL pon their bucklers for a winding-sheet:\\nSuch is the absorbing hate when warring\\nnations meet!\\nLXIV.\\nThe Earth to them was as a rolling bark\\nWhich bore them to Eternity; they saw", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0238.jp2"}, "239": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 227\\nThe Ocean round, but had no time to mark\\nThe motions of their vessel: Nature s law,\\nIn them suspended, reck d not of the awe\\nWhich reigns when mountains tremble, and\\nthe birds\\nPlunge in the clouds for refuge, and with-\\ndraw\\nFrom their down-toppling nests; and bel-\\nlowing herds\\nStumble o er heaving plains, and man s dread\\nhath no words.\\nlxv.\\nFar other scene is Thrasimene now\\nHer lake a sheet of silver, and her plain\\nRent by no ravage save the gentle plough;\\nHer aged trees rise thick as once the slain\\nLay where their roots are; but a brook hath\\nta en\\nA little rill of scanty stream and bed\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nA name of blood from that day s sanguine\\nrain;\\nAnd Sanguinetto tells ye where the dead\\nMade the earth wet, and turn d the unwilling\\nwaters red.\\nlxvi.\\nBut thou, Clitumnus! in thy sweetest wave\\nOf the most living crystal that was e er", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0239.jp2"}, "240": {"fulltext": "228 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nThe haunt of river nymph, to gaze and lave\\nHer limbs where nothing hid them, thou\\ndost rear\\nThy grassy banks whereon the milk-white\\nsteer\\nGrazes; the purest god of gentle waters!\\nAnd most serene of aspect, and most clear:\\nSurely that stream was unprofaned by\\nslaughters,\\nA mirror and a bath for Beauty s youngest\\ndaughters!\\nlxvii.\\nAnd on thy happy shore a Temple still,\\n)f small and delicate proportion, keeps,\\nUpon a mild declivity of hill,\\nIts memory of thee: beneath it sweeps\\nThv current s calmness: oft from out it leaps\\nThe finny darter with the glittering scales,\\nWho dwells and revels in the glassy deeps;\\nWhile, chance, some scatter d water-lily sails\\nDown where the shallower wave still tells its\\nbubbling tales.\\nLXVI1I.\\nPass not unblest the Genios of the place!\\nIf through the air a zephyr more serene\\nWin to the brow, tis his; and if ye trace\\nAlong his margin a more eloquent green,", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0240.jp2"}, "241": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 229\\nIf on the heart the freshness of the scene\\nSprinkle its coolness, and from the dry dust\\nOf weary life a moment lave it clean\\nWith Nature s baptism, tis to him ye must\\nPay orisons for this suspension of disgust.\\nLXIX.\\nThe roar of waters! from the headlong\\nheight\\nVelino cleaves the wave-worn precipice\\nThe fall of waters rapid as the light\\nThe flashing mass foams shaking the abyss;\\nThe hell of waters! where they howl and hiss,\\nAnd boil in endless torture; while the sweat\\nOf their great agony, wrung out from this\\nTheir Phlegethon, curls round the rocks of\\njet\\nThat gird the gulf around, in pitiless horror\\nset,\\nLXX.\\nAnd mounts in spray the skies, and thence\\nagain\\nReturns in an unceasing shower, which\\nround,\\nWith its unemptied cloud of gentle rain,\\nIs an eternal April to the ground,\\nMaking it all one emerald. How profound\\nThe gulf! and how the giant element", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0241.jp2"}, "242": {"fulltext": "230 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nFrom rock to rock leaps with delirious\\nbound,\\nCrushing the cliffs, which, downward worn\\nand rent\\nWith his fierce footsteps, yield in chasms a\\nfearful vent\\nI XXI.\\nTo the broad column which rolls on and\\nshows\\nMore like the fountain of an infant sea\\nTorn from the womb of mountains by the\\nthroes\\nOf a new world, than only thus to be\\nParent of rivers, which flow gushingly,\\nWith many windings through the vale:\\nLook back\\nLo! where it comes like an eternity,\\nAs if to sweep down all things in its track,\\nCharming the eye with dread, a matchless\\ncataract,\\nLXXII.\\nHorribly beautiful! but on the verge,\\nFrom side to side, beneath the glittering\\nmorn,\\nAn Iris sits, amidst the infernal surge,\\nLike Hope upon a deathbed, and, unworn\\nIts steady dyes, while all around is torn", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0242.jp2"}, "243": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 231\\nBy the distracted waters, bears serene\\nIts brilliant hues with all their beams un-\\nshorn\\nResembling, mid the torture of the scene,\\nLove watching- Madness with unalterable mien.\\nLXXIJI.\\nOnce more upon the woody Apennine,\\nThe infant Alps, which had I not before\\nGazed on their mightier parents, where the\\npine\\nSits on more shaggy summits, and where\\nroar\\nThe thundering lauwine might be wor-\\nship d more;\\nBut I have seen the soaring Jungfrau rear\\nHer never-trodden snow, and seen the hoar\\nGlaciers of bleak Mont Black both far and\\nnear,\\nAnd in Chimari heard the thunder-hills of fear.\\nLXXIV.\\nThe Acroceraunian mountains of old name;\\nAnd on Parnassus seen the eagles fly\\nLike spirits of the spot, as twere for fame,\\nFor still they soar d unutterably high\\nI ve look d on Ida with a Trojan s eye;\\nAthos, Olympus, JEtna, Atlas, made\\nThese hills seem things of lesser dignity,", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0243.jp2"}, "244": {"fulltext": "232 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nAll, save the lone Soracte s height displayed,\\nNot now in snow, which asks the lyric Ro-\\nman s aid\\nLXXV.\\nFor our remembrance, and from out the\\nplain\\nHeaves like a long-swept wave about to\\nbreak.\\nAnd on the curl hangs pausing: not in vain\\nMay he who will his recollections rake,\\nAnd quote in classic raptures, and awake\\nThe hills with Latin echoes; I abhorr d\\nToo much to conquer for the poet s sake,\\nThe drill d dull lesson, forced down word by\\nword\\nIn my repugnant youth, with pleasure to\\nrecord\\nrxxvi.\\nAught that recalls the daily drug which\\nturn d\\nMy sickening memory; and, though Time\\nhath taught\\nMy mind to meditate what then it learn d,\\nYet such the fix d inveteracy wrought\\nBy the impatience of my early thought,\\nThat, with the freshness wearing out before", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0244.jp2"}, "245": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 233\\nMy mind could relish what it might have\\nsought,\\nIf free to choose, I cannot now restore\\nIts health; but what it then detested, still\\nabhor\\nLXXVII.\\nThen farewell, Horace: whom I hated so,\\nNot for thy faults, but mine it is a curse\\nTo understand, not feel thy lyric flow,\\nTo comprehend, but never love thy verse,\\nAlthough no deeper Moralist rehearse\\nOur little life, nor Bard prescribe his art,\\nNor livelier Satirist the conscience pierce,\\nAwakening without wounding the touch d\\nheart.\\nYet fare thee weft upon Soracte s ridge we\\npart.\\nLXXVIII.\\nO Rome! my country! city of the soul!\\nThe orphans of the heart must turn to thee,\\nLone mother of dead empires! and control\\nIn their shut breasts their petty misery.\\nWhat are our woes and sufferance? Come\\nand see\\nThe cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way\\nO er steps of broken thrones and temples,\\nYe!", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0245.jp2"}, "246": {"fulltext": "234 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nWhose agonies are evils of a day\\nA world is at our feet as fragile as our clay.\\nLXXIX.\\nThe Niobe of nations! there she stands,\\nChildless and crownless, in her voiceless woe\\nAn empty urn within her wither d hands,\\nWhose holy dust was scatter d long ago;\\nThe Scipios tomb contains no ashes now;\\nThe very sepulchres lie tenantless\\nOf their heroic dwellers: dost thou flow,\\nOld Tiber! through a marble wilderness?\\nRise, with thy yellow waves, and mantle her\\ndistress!\\nLXXX.\\nThe Goth, the Christian, Time, W r ar, Flood,\\nand Fire,\\nHave dealt upon the seven-hill d city s pride\\nShe saw her glories star by star expire,\\nAnd up the steep barbarian monarchs ride.\\nWhere the car climb d the Capitol; far and\\nwide\\nTemple and tower went down, not left a\\nsite\\nChaos of ruins! who shall trace the void,\\nO er the dim fragments cast a lunar light,\\nAnd say, Here was, or is, where all is doubly\\nnight?", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0246.jp2"}, "247": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 235\\nI XXXI.\\nThe double night of ages, and of her,\\nNight s daughter, Ignorance, hath wrapt,\\nand wrap\\nAll round us: we but feel our way to err:\\nThe ocean hath its chart, the stars their map,\\nAnd Knowledge spreads them on her ample\\nlap,\\nBut Rome is as the desert, where we steer\\nStumbling o er recollections: now we clap\\nOur hands and cry Eureka! it is clear\\nWhen but some false miracre of ruin rises near.\\no\\nLXXXII.\\nAlas, the lofty city and alas,\\nThe trebly hundred triumphs!* and the day\\nWhen Brutus made the dagger s edge surpass\\nThe conqueror s sword in bearing fame\\naway\\nAlas for Tully s voice, and Virgil s lay,\\nAnd Livy s pictured page But these shall be\\nHer resurrection all beside decay.\\nAlas, for Earth, for never shall we see\\nThat brightness in her eye she bore when\\nRome was free!\\nOrosius gives 320 for the number of triumphs. He is fol-\\nlowed by Panvinius, and Panvinius by Mr. Gibbon and the\\nmodern writers.", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0247.jp2"}, "248": {"fulltext": "236 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nLXXXIII.\\nO thou, whose chariot roll d on Fortune s\\nwheel,\\nTriumphant Sylla! Thou, who didst subdue\\nThy country s foes ere thou wouldst pause to\\nfeel\\nThe wrath of thy own wrongs, or reap the\\ndue\\nOf hoarded vengeance till thine eagles flew\\nO er prostrate Asia; thou, who with thy\\nfrown\\nAnnihilated senates Roman, too,\\nWith all thy vices, for thou didst lay down\\nWith an atoning smile a more than earthly\\ncrown\\nLXXXIV.\\nThe dictatorial wreath, couldst thou divine\\nTo what would one day dwindle that which\\nmade\\nThee more than mortal? and that so supine\\nBy aught than Romans Rome should thus be\\nlaid?\\nShe who was named Eternal, and array d\\nHer warriors but to conquer she who veil d\\nEarth with her haughty shadow, and dis-\\nplay d,\\nUntil the o er-canopied horizon fail d,", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0248.jp2"}, "249": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 237\\nHer rushing wings Oh! she who was Al-\\nmighty hail d!\\nLXXXV.\\nSylla was first of victors but our own,\\nThe sagest of usurpers, Cromwell! he\\nToo swept off senates while he hew d the\\nthrone\\nDown to a block immortal rebel See\\nWhat crimes it costs to be a moment free\\nAnd famous through all ages! But beneath\\nHis fate the moral lurks of destiny;\\nHis day of double victory and death\\nBeheld him win two realms, and, happier,\\nyield his breath.\\nLXXXVI.\\nThe third of the same moon whose former\\ncourse\\nHad all but crown d him, on the self-same\\nday\\nDeposed him gently from his throne of force,\\nAnd laid him with the earth s preceding\\nclay.\\nAnd show d not Fortune thus how fame and\\nsway,\\nAnd all we deem delightful, and consume\\nOur souls to compass through each arduous\\nway,", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0249.jp2"}, "250": {"fulltext": "238 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nAre in her eyes less happy than the tomb?\\nWere they but so in man s, how different\\nwere his doom\\nLXXXVII.\\nAnd thou, dread statue! yet existent in\\nThe austerest form of naked majesty.\\nThou who beheldest, mid the assassins din,\\nAt thy bathed base the bloody Caesar lie,\\nFolding his robe in dying dignity,\\nAn offering- to thine altar from the queen\\nOf gods and men, great Nemesis! did he die,\\nAnd thou, too, perish, Pompe}\u00c2\u00b0 have ye been\\nVictors of countless kings, or puppets of a\\nscene?\\nlxxxviii.\\nAnd thou, the thunder-stricken nurse of\\nRome\\nShe-wolf! whose brazen-imaged dugs impart\\nThe milk of conquest yet within the dome\\nWhere, as a monument of antique art.\\nThou standest Mother of the mighty heart,\\nWhich the great founder suck d from thy\\nwild teat,\\nScorch d by the Roman Jove s ethereal dart,\\nAnd thy limbs black d with lightning dost\\nthou yet", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0250.jp2"}, "251": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 239\\nGuard thine immortal cuds, nor thy fond\\ncharge forget?\\nLXXXIX.\\nThou dost; but all thy foster-babes are\\ndead\\nThe men of iron; and the world hath rear d\\nCities from out their sepulchres: men bled\\nIn imitation of the things they fear d,\\nAnd fought and conqu er d, and the same\\ncourse steer d,\\nAt apish distance; but as yet none have,\\nNor could, the same supremacy have near d,\\nSave one vain man, who is not in the grave,\\nBut, vanquish d by himself, to his own slaves\\na slave,\\nxc.\\nThe fool of false dominion and a kind\\nOf bastard Caesar, following him of old\\nWith steps unequal: for the Roman s mind\\nWas model d in a less terrestrial mould,\\nWith passions fiercer, yet a judgment cold,\\nAnd an immortal instinct which redeem d\\nThe frailties of a heart so soft, yet bold,\\nAlcides with the distaff now he seem d\\nAt Cleopatra s feet, and now himself he\\nbeam d.", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0251.jp2"}, "252": {"fulltext": "240 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nxci.\\nAnd came, and saw, and conquer d. But the\\nman\\nWho would have tamed his eagles down to\\nLike a train d falcon, in the Gallic van,\\nWhich he, in sooth, long led to victory,\\nWith a deaf heart which never seemed to be\\nA listener to itself, was strangely framed:\\nWith but one weakest weakness vanity:\\nCoquettish in ambition, still he aim d\\nAt what? Can he avouch, or answer what he\\nclaim d 5\\nxcn.\\nAnd would be all or nothing nor could wait\\nFor the sure grave to level him few years\\nHad fix d him with the Caesars in his fate,\\nOn whom we tread For this the conqueror\\nrears\\nThe arch of triumph! and for this the tears\\nAnd blood of earth flow on as they have\\nflow d,\\nAn universal deluge, which appears\\nWithout an ark for wretched man s abode,\\nAnd ebbs but to reflow! Renew thy rainbow,\\nGod!", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0252.jp2"}, "253": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 241\\nXCIII.\\nWhat from this barren being do we reap?\\nOur senses narrow, and our reason frail.\\nLife short, and truth a gem which loves the\\ndeep,\\nAnd all things weigh d in custom s falsest\\nscale\\nOpinion on omnipotence, whose veil\\nMantles the earth with darkness, until right\\nAnd wrong are accidents, and men grow\\npale\\nLest their own judgments should become\\ntoo bright,\\nAnd their free thoughts be crimes, and earth\\nhave too much light.\\nxciv.\\nAnd thus they plod in sluggish misery,\\nRotting from sire to son, and age to age,\\nProud of their trampled nature, and so die,\\nBequeathing their hereditary rage\\nTo the new race of inborn slaves, who wage\\nWar for their chains, and rather than be free,\\nBleed gladiator-like, and still engage\\nWithin the same arena where they see\\nTheir fellows fall before, like leaves of the\\nsame tree.\\n16", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0253.jp2"}, "254": {"fulltext": "242 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nxcv.\\nI speak not of men s creeds they rest\\nbetween\\nI taker but oi things all\\nmd known, and daily, hourly\\nD\\nThe yoke that is upon us doubly bow d,\\nAnd the intent of tyranny avow d,\\nThe edict of Earth s rulers, who are grown\\nThe apes of him who humbled once the\\nproud,\\nthem from their slumbers on the\\ni glorious, were this all his mighty arm had\\nXCVI.\\nI rants but by tyrants conquer d be,\\n.:n find no champion and no child\\nColumbia saw arise when she\\nSprung forth a Pallas, arm d and undenTd?\\n)r must such minds be nourish d in the wild,\\nI eep in the unpruned forest, midst the roar\\nOf cataracts, where nursing nature smiled\\nn infant Washington? Has Earth no more\\nSuch seeds within her breast, or Europe no\\nsuch shore?", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0254.jp2"}, "255": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 243\\nXCVII.\\nBut France got drunk with blood to vomit\\ncrime\\nAnd fatal have her Saturnalia been\\nTo Freedom s cause, in every age and clime;\\nBecause the deadly days which we have seen\\nAnd vile Ambition, that built up between\\nMan and his hopes an adamantine wall,\\nAnd the base pageant last upon the scene,\\nAre grown the pretext for the eternal thrall\\nWhich nips Life s tree, and dooms man s worst\\nhis second fall.\\nXCV1II.\\nYet, Freedom! yet thy banner, torn, but fly-\\ning,\\nStreams like the thunder-storm against the\\nwind\\nThy trumpet-voice, though broken now and\\ndying,\\nThe loudest still the tempest leaves behind;\\nThy tree hath lost its blossoms, and the rind,\\nChopp d by the axe, looks rough and little\\nworth,\\nBut the sap lasts, and still the seed we find\\nSown deep, even in the bosom of the North\\nSo shall a better spring less bitter fruit bring\\nforth.", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0255.jp2"}, "256": {"fulltext": "244 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nxcix.\\nThere is a stern round tower of other days,\\nFirm as a fortress, with its fence of stone,\\nSuch as an army s balded strength delays.\\nStanding with half its battlements alone,\\nAnd with two thousand years of ivy grown,\\nThe garland of eternity, where wave\\nThe green leaves over all by time o er thrown\\nWhat was this tower of strength? within its\\ncave\\nWhat treasure lay so lock d, so hid? A\\nis she, the lady of the d\\n..b d in a palace? Was she chaste and fair?\\nWorthy a king s or more a Roman s bed?\\nWhat race of chiefs and heroes did she bear?\\nWhat daughter of her beauties was the heir?\\nHow lived how loved how died she? Was\\nshe not\\nSo honor d and conspicuously there,\\nWhere meaner relics must not dare to rot,\\nPlaced to commemorate a more than mortal\\nlot?\\nThe tomb of Cecilia Metella.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0256.jp2"}, "257": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 245\\nCI.\\nWas she as those who love their lords, or\\nthey\\nWho love the lords of others? such have been\\nEven in the olden time, Rome s annals say,\\nWas she a matron of Cornelia s mien.\\nOr the light air of Egypt s graceful queen,\\nProfuse of joy; or gainst it did she war,\\nInveterate in virtue Did she lean\\nTo the soft side of the heart, or wisely bar\\nLove from amongst her griefs^\u00e2\u0080\u0094 for such the\\naffections are.\\nen.\\nPerchance she died in youth: it may be,\\nbow d\\nWith woes far heavier than the ponderous\\ntomb\\nThat weigh d upon her gentle dust, a cloud\\nMight gather o er her beauty, and a gloom\\nIn her dark eye n prophetic of the doom\\nHeaven gives -its favorites\u00e2\u0080\u0094 early death;\\nyet shed\\nA sunset charm around her, and illume\\nWith hectic light, the Hesperus of the dead,\\nOf her consuming cheek the autumnal leaf-like\\nred.", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0257.jp2"}, "258": {"fulltext": "246 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nCHI.\\nPerchance she died in age\u00e2\u0080\u0094 -surviving all.\\nCharms, kindred, children with the silver\\nOn her I ng tresses, which might yet recall,\\nIt n mething of the day\\nWhen they her pr\\nAnd I rm were envic d, and\\nr would Conjecture\\nray?\\nTims much alone w lied,\\nwealthi Behold his love\\nI kn why but standing thus by thee\\nIt known,\\niys come\\nme\\nWith r lusic, though the tone\\nI- lemn, like the cloudy groan\\nOf dying thunder on the distant wind;\\nYet could I seat me by this ivied stone\\nTill I had bodied forth the heated mind,\\nForms from the floating wreck which ruin\\nleaves behind;", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0258.jp2"}, "259": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 247\\ncv.\\nAnd from the planks, far shatter d o er the\\nrocks,\\nBuilt me a little bark of hope, once more\\nTo battle with the ocean and the shocks\\nOf the loud breakers, and the ceaseless roar\\nWhich rushes on the solitary shore\\nWhere all lies founder d that was ever dear:\\nBut could I gather from the wave-worn store\\nEnough for my rude boat, where should I\\nsteer?\\nThere woos no home, nor hope, nor life, save\\nwhat is here.\\ncvi.\\nThen let the winds howl on! their harmony\\nShall henceforth be my music, and the night\\nThe sound shall temper with the owlets cry,\\nAs I now hear them, in the fading light\\nDim o er the bird of darkness native site,\\nAnswer each other on the Palatine,\\nWith their large eyes, all glistening gray and\\nbright,\\nAnd sailing pinions. Upon such a shrine\\nWhat are our petty griefs? let me not number\\nmine.", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0259.jp2"}, "260": {"fulltext": "248 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nCVII.\\nCypress and ivy, weed and wallflower grown\\nMatted and mass d together, hillocks heap d\\nOn what were chambers, arch crush d,\\ncolumn strown\\nIn fragments, chocked-up vaults, and frescoes\\nsteep d\\nIn subterranean damps, where the owl\\npeep d,\\nDeeming it midnight: Temples, bath\\nhalls?\\nPronounce who can; for all that learning\\nreap d\\nFrom her research hath been, that these are\\nwalls\\nBehold the Imperial Mount! tis thus the\\nmighty falls.\\nI VIII.\\nThere is the moral of all human tales;\\nTis but the same rehearsal of the past,\\nFirst Freedom, and then Glory\u00e2\u0080\u0094 when that\\nfails\\nWealth, vice, corruption barbarism at last.\\nAnd History, with all her volumes vast,\\nHath but one page tis better written here,\\nWhere gorgeous Tyranny hath thus amass d\\nAll treasures, all delights, that eye or ear,", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0260.jp2"}, "261": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 249\\nHeart, soul could seek, tongue ask\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Away\\nwith words! draw near,\\ncix.\\nAdmire, exult despise laugh, weep for\\nhere\\nThere is such matter for all feeling Man\\nThou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear,\\nAges and realms are crowded in this span,\\nThis mountain, whose obliterated plan\\nThe pyramid of empires pinnacled,\\nOf Glory s gewgaws shining in the van\\nTill the sun s rays with added flame were\\nfill d!\\nWhere are its golden roofs? where those who\\ndared to build?\\nex.\\nTully was not so eloquent as thou,\\nThou nameless column with the buried\\nbase\\nWhat are the laurels of the Caesar s brow?\\nCrown me with ivy from his dwelling-place.\\nWhose arch or pillar meets me in the face,\\nTitus or Trajan s? No: tis that of Time:\\nTriumph, arch, pillar, all he doth displace.\\nScoffing; and apostolic statues climb", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0261.jp2"}, "262": {"fulltext": "250 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nTo crush the imperial urn, whose ashes slept\\nsublime,*\\nCXI.\\nBuried in air, the deep blue sky of Rome,\\nAnd looking to the stars; they had contain d\\nA spirit which with these would find a home,\\nThe last of those who o er the whole earth\\nreign d,\\nThe Roman globe, for after none sustain d\\nBut yielded back his conquests he was more\\nThan a mere Alexander, and unstain d\\nWith household blood and wine, serenely\\nwore\\nHis sovereign virtues still we Trajan s name\\nadore.\\ncxn.\\nWhere is the rock of Triumph, the high place\\nWhere Rome embraced her heroes? where\\nthe steep\\nTarpeian fittest goal of Treason s race,\\nThe promontory whence the Traitor s Leap\\nCured all ambition? Did the Conquerors\\nheap\\nTheir spoils here? Yes; and in yon field\\nbelow,\\n*The column of Trajan is surmounted by St. Peter; that of\\nAurelius by St. Paul.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0262.jp2"}, "263": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 251\\nA thousand years of silenced factions sleep\\nThe Forum where the immortal accents\\nglow,\\nAnd still the eloquent air breathes\u00e2\u0080\u0094 burns\\nwith Cicero!\\nCXIII.\\nThe field of freedom, faction, fame, and\\nblood\\nHere a proud people s passions were exhaled,\\nFrom the first hour of empire in the bud\\nTo that when further worlds to conquer\\nfail d;\\nBut long- before had Freedom s face been\\nveii d,\\nAnd Anarchy assumed her attributes;\\nTill every lawless soldier who assail d\\nTrod on the trembling Senate s slavish\\nmutes,\\nOr raised the venal voice of baser prostitutes.\\ncxiv.\\nThen turn we to our latest tribune s name,\\nFrom her ten thousand tyrants turn to thee,\\nRedeemer of dark centuries of shame\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nThe friend of Petrarch\u00e2\u0080\u0094 hope of Italy\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nRienzi! last of Romans! While the tree\\nOf Freedom s wither d trunk puts forth a\\nleaf,", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0263.jp2"}, "264": {"fulltext": "252\\nCHILUE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nEven for thy tomb a garland let it be\\nThe forum s champion, and the people s\\nchief\\nHer new-born Numa thou, with reign, alas!\\ntoo brief.\\ncxv.\\nEgeria! sweet creation of some heart\\nWhich found no mortal resting-place so fair\\nAs thine ideal breast: whate er thou art\\nOr wert, a young Aurora of the air,\\nThe nympholepsy of some fond despair:\\nOr, it might be, a beauty of the earth,\\nWho found a more than common votary there\\nToo much adoring; whatsoe er thy birth,\\nThou wert a beautiful thought, and softly\\nbodied forth.\\ncxvi.\\nThe mosses of thy fountain still are sprinkled\\nWith thine Elysian water-drops; the face\\nOf thy cave-guarded spring, with years\\nunwrinked,\\nReflects the meek-eyed genius of the place,\\nWhose green wild margin now no more erase\\nArt s works; nor must the delicate waters\\nsleep,\\nPrison d in marble, bubbling from the base\\nOf the cleft statue, with a gentle leap", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0264.jp2"}, "265": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 253\\nThe rill runs o er, and round, fern, flowers,\\nand ivy creep,\\nCXVII.\\nFantastically tangled the green hills\\nAre clothed with early blossoms, through the\\ngrass\\nThe quick-eyed lizard rustles, and the hills\\nOf summer birds sing welcome as ye pass\\nFlowers fresh in hue, and many in their class,\\nImplore the pausing step, and with their dyes\\nDance in the soft breeze in a fairy mass:\\nThe sweetness of the violet s deep blue eyes,\\nKiss d by the breath of heaven, seems color d\\nby its skies.\\nCXVIII.\\nHere didst thou dwell, in this enchanted\\ncover,\\nEgeria! thy all heavenly bosom beating\\nFor the far footsteps of thy mortal lover;\\nThe purple Midnight veil d that mystic\\nmeeting\\nWith her most starry canopy, and seating\\nThyself by thine adorer, what befell?\\nThis cave was surely shaped out for the\\ngreeting\\nOf an enamor d Goddess, and the cell\\nHaunted by holy Love the earliest oracle!", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0265.jp2"}, "266": {"fulltext": "254 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\ncxix.\\nAnd didst thou not, thy breast to his reply-\\nin^\\nBlend a celestial with a human heart;\\nAnd Love, which dies as it was born, in\\nsighing-,\\nShare with immortal transports? could thine\\nart\\nMake them indeed immortal, and impart\\nThe purity of heaven to earthly joys,\\nExpel the venom and not blunt the dart\\nThe dull satiety which all destroys\\nAnd root from out the soul the deadly weed\\nwhich cloys?\\ncxx.\\nAlas our young affections run to waste,\\nOr water but the desert whence arise\\nBut weeds of dark luxuriance, tares of haste\\nRank at the core, though tempting to the\\neyes,\\nFlowers whose wild odors breathe but\\nagonies,\\nAnd trees whose gums are poison; such the\\nplants\\nWhich spring beneath her steps as Passion\\nflies", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0266.jp2"}, "267": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 255\\nO er the world s wilderness, and vainly\\npants\\nFor some celestial fruit forbidden to our\\nwants.\\ncxxi.\\nO Love no inhabitant of earth thou art\\nAn unseen seraph, we believe in thee,\\nA faith whose martyrs are the broken heart,\\nBut never yet hath seen, nor e er shall see,\\nThe naked eye, thy form, as it should be\\nThe mind hath made thee, as it peopled\\nheaven,\\nEven with its own desiring phantasy,\\nAnd to a thought such shape and image\\ngiven,\\nAs haunts the unquench d soul-parch d wea-\\nried\u00e2\u0080\u0094wrung and riven.\\ncxxn.\\nOf its own beauty is the mind diseased,\\nAnd fevers into false creation where,\\nWhere are the forms the sculptor s hand\\nhath seized?\\nIn him alone. Can Nature show so fair?\\nWhere are the charms and virtues which we\\ndare\\nConceive in boyhood and pursue as men,\\nThe unreach d Paradise of our despair,", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0267.jp2"}, "268": {"fulltext": "256 CHILDE HAROLDS PILGRIMAGE.\\nWhich o er-informs the pencil and the pen,\\nAnd overpowers the page where it would bloom\\nain?\\nCXX1II.\\nWho loves, raves tis youth s frenzy but\\nthe cure\\nIs bitterer still; as charm by charm unwinds\\nich robed our idols, and we see too sure\\nw rth n\u00c2\u00ab r beauty dwells from out the\\nmind s\\nIdeal shape of such yet still it binds\\nThe fatal spell, and still it draws us on,\\nReaping the whirlwind from the oft-sown\\nwinds;\\nThe stubborn heart, its alchemy begun,\\nSeems ever near the prize wealthiest when\\nmost undone.\\ncxxiv.\\nWe wither from our youth, we gasp away\\nSick sick unfound the boon, unslacked the\\nthirst,\\nThough to the last, in verge of our decay,\\nSome phantom lures, such as we sought at\\nfirst\\nBut all too late, so are we doubly curst.\\nLove, fame, ambition, avarice tis the\\nsame", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0268.jp2"}, "269": {"fulltext": "CIIILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 257\\nEach idle, and all ill, and none the worst\\nFor all are meteors with a different name,\\nAnd death the sable smoke where vanishes\\nthe flame.\\ncxxv.\\nFew none find what they love or could\\nhave loved:\\nThough accident, blind contact, and the\\nstrong\\nNecessity of loving, have removed\\nAntipathies but to recur, ere long,\\nEnvenom d with irrevocable wrong;\\nAnd Circumstance, that unspiritual god\\nAnd miscreator, makes and helps along\\nOur coming evils with a crutch-like rod,\\nWhose touch turns hope to dust the dust we\\nall have trod.\\ncxxvi.\\nOur life is a false nature tis not in\\nThe harmony of things, this hard decree,\\nThis uneradicable taint of sin,\\nThis boundless upas, this all-blasting tree,\\nWhose root is earth, whose leaves and\\nbranches be\\nThe skies which rain their plagues on men\\nlike dew\\n17", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0269.jp2"}, "270": {"fulltext": "258 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nDisease, death, bondage, all the woes we\\nsee\\nAnd worse, the woes we see not which\\nthrob through\\nThe immedicable soul, with heart-aches ever\\nnew.\\ncxxvn.\\nYet let us ponder boldly tis a base\\nAbandonment of reason to resign\\nOur right of thought our last and only place\\nOf refuge; this, at least, shall still be mine:\\nThough from our birth the faculty divine\\nIs chain d and tortured cabin d, cribb d,\\nconfined.\\nAnd bred in darkness, lest the truth should\\nshine\\nToo brightly on the unprepared mind,\\nThe beam pours in, for time and skill will couch\\nthe blind.\\nCXXVIII.\\nArches on arches! as it were that Rome,\\nCollecting the chief trophies of her line,\\nWould build up all her triumphs in one\\ndome,\\nHer Coliseum stands; the moonbeams shine\\nAs twere its natural torches, for divine", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0270.jp2"}, "271": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 259\\nShould be the light which streams here, to\\nillume\\nThis long explored but still exhaustless mine\\nOf contemplation and the azure gloom\\nOf an Italian night, where the deep skies\\nassume.\\ncxxix.\\nHues which have words, and speak to ye of\\nheaven,\\nFloats o er this vast and wondrous monu-\\nment,\\nAnd shadows forth its glory. There is given\\nUnto the things of earth, which Time hath\\nbent,\\nA spirit s feeling, and where he hath leant\\nHis hand, but broke his scythe, there is a\\npower\\nAnd magic in the ruin d battlement,\\nFor which the palace of the present hour\\nMust yield its pomp, and wait till ages are its\\ndower.\\ncxxx.\\nO Time! the beautifier of the dead,\\nAdorner of the ruin, comforter\\nAnd only healer when the heart hath bled\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nTime the corrector where our judgments err,\\nThe test of truth, love,\u00e2\u0080\u0094 sole philosopher,", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0271.jp2"}, "272": {"fulltext": "260 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nFor all beside are sophists from thy thrift,\\nWhich never loses though it doth defer\\nTime, the avenger! unto thee I lift\\nMy hands, and eyes, and heart, and crave of\\nthee\\nCXXXI.\\nAmidst this wreck, where thou hast made a\\nshrine\\nAnd temple more divinely desolate,\\nAmong thy mightier offerings here are mine,\\nRuins of years though few, yet full of fate\\nIf thou hast ever seen me too elate,\\nHear me not; but if calmly I have borne\\nGood, and reserved my pride against the hate\\nWhich shall not whelm me, let me not have\\nworn\\nThis iron in my soul in vain shall they not\\nmourn?\\nCXXXI I.\\nAnd thou, who never yet of human wrong\\nLeft the unbalanced scale, great Nemesis!\\nHere where the ancient paid thee homage\\nlong\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nThou, who didst call the Furies from the\\nabyss,\\nAnd round Orestes bade them howl and hiss\\nFor that unnatural retribution just,", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0272.jp2"}, "273": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 261\\nHad it but been from hands less near in\\nthis\\nThy former realm, I call thee from the dust!\\nDost thou not hear my heart? Awake! thou\\nshalt, and must.\\nCXXXIII.\\nIt is not that I may not have incurr d\\nFor my ancestral faults or mine the wound\\nI bleed withal, and had it been conferr d\\nWith a just weapon, it had now d unbound.\\nBut now my blood shall not sink in the\\nground\\nTo thee I do devote it thou shall take\\nThe vengeance, which shall yet be sought\\nand found,\\nWhich if I have not taken for the sake\\nBut let that pass I sleep, but thou shalt yet\\nawake.\\ncxxxiv.\\nAnd if my voice break forth, tis not that\\nnow\\nI shrink from what is suffer d: let him speak\\nWho hath beheld decline upon my brow,\\nOr seen my mind s convulsion leave it weak;\\nBut in this page a record will I seek.\\nNot in the air shall these my words disperse,\\nThough I be ashes: a far hour shall wreak", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0273.jp2"}, "274": {"fulltext": "262 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nThe deep prophetic fulness of this verse,\\nAnd pile on human heads the mountain of my\\ncurse\\ncxxxv.\\nThat curse shall be Forgiveness. Have I\\nnot\\nHear me, my mother Earth! behold it,\\nHeaven\\nHave I not had to wrestle with my lot?\\nHave I not suffer d things to be forgiven?\\nHave I not had my brain sear d, my heart\\nriven,\\nHopes sapp d, name blighted, Life s life lied\\naway?\\nAnd only not to desperation driven,\\nBecause not altogether of such clay\\nAs rots into the souls of those whom I survey.\\ncxxxvi.\\nFrom mighty wrongs to petty perfidy\\nHave I not seen what human things could\\ndo 5\\nFrom the loud roar of foaming calumny\\nTo the small whisper of the as paltry few\\nAnd subtler venow of the reptile crew,\\nThe Janus glance of whose significant eye,\\nLearning to lie with silence, would seem\\ntrue,", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0274.jp2"}, "275": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 263\\nAnd without utterance, save the shrug or\\nsigh,\\nDeal round to happy fools its speechless\\nobloquy.\\ncxxxvn.\\nBut I have lived, and have not lived in vain\\nMy mind may lose its force, my blood its fire,\\nAnd my frame perish even in conquering\\npain,\\nBut there is that within me which shall tire\\nTorture and Time, and breathe when I ex-\\npire\\nSomething unearthly, which they deem not\\nof,\\nLike the remember d tone of a mute lyre,\\nShall on their soften d spirits sink, and move\\nIn hearts all rocky now the late remorse of love.\\nCXXXVIII.\\nThe seal is set. Now welcome, thou dread\\npower!\\nNameless, yet thus omnipotent, which here\\nWalk st in the shadow of the midnight hour\\nWith a deep awe, yet all distinct from fear:\\nThy haunts are ever where the dead walls\\nrear\\nTheir ivy mantles, and the solemn scene\\nDerives from thee a sense so deep and clear", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0275.jp2"}, "276": {"fulltext": "264 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nThat we become a part of what has been,\\nAnd grow unto the spot, all-seeing but unseen.\\ncxxxix.\\nAnd here the buzz of eager nations ran,\\nIn murmur d pity, or loud-roar d applause,\\nAs man was slaughter d by his fellow-man\\nAnd wherefore slaughter d? wherefore, but\\nbecause\\nSuch were the bloody Circus genial laws,\\nAnd the imperial pleasure. Wherefore not?\\nWhat matters where we fall to fill the maws\\nOf worms on battle-plains or listed spot?\\nBoth are but theatres where the chief actors\\nrot.\\nCXL.\\nI see before me the Gladiator lie\\nHe leans upon his hand his manly brow\\nConsents to death, but conquers agony,\\nAnd his droop d head sinks gradually low\\nAnd through his side the last drops, ebbing\\nslow\\nFrom the red gash, fall heavy, one by one,\\nLike the first of a thunder-shower and now\\nThe arena swims around him he is gone,\\nEre ceased the inhuman shout which hail d\\nthe wretch who won.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0276.jp2"}, "277": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 265\\nCXLI.\\nHe heard it, but he heeded not his eyes\\nWere with his heart, and that was far away\\nHe reck d not of the life he lost nor prize,\\nBut where his rude hut by the Danube lay,\\nThere were his young barbarians all at play,\\nThere was their Dacian mother he, their\\nsire,\\nButcher d to make a Roman holiday\\nAll this rush d with his blood Shall he\\nexpire,\\nAnd unavenged? Arise! ye Goths, and glut\\nyour ire.\\nCXLII.\\nBut here, where murder breathed her bloody\\nstream\\nAnd here, where buzzing nations choked the\\nways,\\nAnd roar d or murmur d like a mountain-\\nstream\\nDashing or winding as its torrent strays\\nHere, where the Roman million s blame or\\npraise\\nWas death or life, the playthings of a crowd,\\nMy voice sounds much and fall the stars,\\nfaint rays\\nOn the arena void seats crush d, walls\\nbow d^", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0277.jp2"}, "278": {"fulltext": "266 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nAnd galleries, where my steps seem echoes\\nstrangely loud.\\nCXLIII.\\nA ruin yet what ruin from its mass\\nWalls, palaces, half-cities, have been rear d;\\nYet oft the enormous skeleton ye pass,\\nAnd marvel where the spoil could have\\nappear d.\\nHath it indeed been plunder d, or but clear d?\\nAlas! developed, opens the decay,\\nWhen the colossal fabric s form is near d;\\nIt will not bear the brightness of the day,\\nWhich streams too much on all, years, man,\\nhave reft away.\\nCXLIV.\\nBut when the rising moon begins to climb\\nIts topmost arch, and gently pauses there\\nWhen the stars twinkle through the loops of\\ntime,\\nAnd the low night-breeze waves along the\\nair,\\nThe garland-forest, which the gray walls\\nwear,\\nLike laurels on the bald first Caesar s head;\\nWhen the light shines serene, but doth not\\nglare,\\nThen in this magic circle raise the dead:", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0278.jp2"}, "279": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 267\\nHeroes have trod this spot tis on their dust\\nye tread.\\nCXLV.\\nWhile stands the Coliseum, Rome shall\\nstand\\nWhen falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall;\\nAnd when Rome falls the World. From\\nour own land\\nThus spake the pilgrims o er this mighty\\nwall\\nIn Saxon times, which we are wont to call\\nAncient; and these three mortal things are\\nstill\\nOn their foundations, and unalter d all;\\nRome and her Ruin past Redemption s skill,\\nThe World, the same wide den of thieves, or\\nwhat ye will.\\nCXLVI.\\nSimple, erect, severe, austere, sublime\\nShrine of all saints and temple of all gods,\\nFrom Jove to Jesus spared and blest by\\ntime;\\nLooking tranquillity while falls or nods\\nArch, empire, each thing round thee, and\\nman plods\\nHis way through thorns to ashes glorious\\ndome;", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0279.jp2"}, "280": {"fulltext": "2G8 CMILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nShalt thou not last? Time s scythe and\\ntyrants rods\\nShiver upon thee sanctuary and home\\nOf art and piety Pantheon pride of Rome\\nCXLVII.\\nRelic of nobler days, and noblest arts!\\nDespoil d yet perfect, with thy circle spreads\\nA holiness appealing to all hearts\\nTo art a model and to him who treads\\nRome for the sake of ages, Glory sheds\\nHer light through thy sole aperture to those\\nWho worship, here are altars for their beads;\\nAnd they who feel for genius may repose\\nTheir eyes on lionor d forms, whose busts\\naround them close.\\nCXLVIII.\\nThere is a dungeon, in whose dim drear light\\nWhat do I gaze on? Nothing: Look again!\\nTwo forms are slowly shadow d on my\\nsight\\nTwo insulated phantoms of the brain:\\nIt is not so: I see them full and plain\\nAn old man, and a female young and fair,\\nFresh as a nursing mother, in whose vein\\nThe blood is nectar: but what doth she\\nthere,", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0280.jp2"}, "281": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 269\\nWith her unmantled neck, and bosom white\\nand bare?\\nCXLIX.\\nFull swells the deep pure fountain of young\\nlife,\\nWhere on the heart and from the heart we\\ntook\\nOur first and sweetest nurture, when the\\nwife,\\nBlest into mother, in the innocent look,\\nOr even the piping cry of lips that brook\\nNo pain and small suspense, a joy perceives\\nMan knows not, when from out its cradled\\nnook\\nShe sees her little bud put forth its leaves\\nWhat may the fruit be yet? I know not Cain\\nwas Eve s.\\nCL.\\nBut here youth offers to old age the food,\\nThe milk of his own gift it is her sire\\nTo whom she renders back the debt of blood\\nBorn with her birth. No he shall not expire\\nWhile in those warm and lovely veins the fire\\nOf health and holy feeling can provide\\nGreat Nature s Nile, whose deep stream rises\\nhigher\\nThan Egypt s river: from that gentle side", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0281.jp2"}, "282": {"fulltext": "270 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nDrink, drink and live, old man! heaven s realm\\nholds no such tide.\\nCLI.\\nThe starry fable of the milky way\\nHas not thy story s purity; it is\\nA constellation of a sweeter ray.\\nAnd sacred Nature triumphs more in this\\nReverse of her decree, than in the abyss\\nWhere sparkle distant world: Oh, holiest\\nnurse\\nNo drop of that clear stream its way shall\\nmiss\\nTo thy sire s heart, replenishing its source\\nWith life, as our freed souls rejoin the universe.\\nCLII.\\nTurn to the Mole which Hadrian rear d on\\nhigh,*\\nImperial mimic of old Egypt s piles,\\nColossal copyist of deformity,\\nWhose travel d phantasy from the far Nile s\\nEnormous model, doom d the artist s toils\\nTo build for giants, and for his vain earth,\\nHis shrunken ashes, raise this dome How\\nsmiles\\nThe gazer s eye with philosophic mirth,\\nThe Castle of St. Angelo.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0282.jp2"}, "283": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 271\\nTo view the huge design which sprung from\\nsuch a birth\\nCLIII.\\nBut lo! the dome the vast and wondrous\\ndome,\\nTo which Diana s marvel was a cell*\\nChrist s mighty shrine above his martyr s\\ntomb!\\nI have beheld the Ephesian s miracle\\nIts columns strew the wilderness, and dwell\\nThe hyaena and the jackal in their shade;\\nI have beheld Sophia s bright roofs swell\\nTheir glittering mass i* the sun, and have\\nsurvey d;\\nIts sanctuary the while the usurping Moslem\\npray d;\\nCUV.\\nBut thou, of temples old, or altars new,\\nStandest alone with nothing like to thee\\nWorthiest of God, the holy and the true,\\nSince Zion s desolation, when that He\\nForsook His former city, what could be,\\nOf earthly structures, in His honor piled,\\nOf a sublimer aspect? Majesty,\\nSt. Peter s.", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0283.jp2"}, "284": {"fulltext": "272 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nPower, Glory, Strength, and Beauty, all are\\naisled\\nIn this eternal ark of worship undenled.\\nCLV.\\nEnter: its grandeur overwhelms thee not;\\nAnd why? it is not lessen d; but thy mind,\\nExpanded by the genius of the spot,\\nHas grown colossal, and can only find\\nA fit abode wherein appear enshrined\\nThy hopes of immortality; and thou\\nShalt one day, if found worthy, so defined,\\nSee thy God face to face, as thou dost now\\nHis Holy of Holies, nor be blessed by His\\nbrow.\\nCLVI.\\nThou movest but increasing with the\\nadvance,\\nLike climbing some great Alp, which still\\ndoth rise.\\nDeceived by its gigantic elegance.\\nVastness which grows but grows to har-\\nmonize\\nAll musical in its immensities;\\nRich marbles richer painting shrines\\nwhere flame\\nThe lamps of gold and haughty dome which\\nvies", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0284.jp2"}, "285": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 273\\nIn air with Earth s chief strcutures, though\\ntheir frame\\nSits on the firm-set ground\u00e2\u0080\u0094 and this the clouds\\nmust claim.\\nCLVII.\\nThou seest not all but piecemeal thou must\\nbreak,\\nTo separate contemplation, the great whole;\\nAnd as the ocean many bays will make,\\nThat ask the eye so here condense thy soul\\nTo more immediate objects, and control\\nThy thoughts until thy mind hath got by\\nheart\\nIts eloquent proportions, and unroll\\nIn mighty graduations, part by part,\\nThe glory which at once upon thee did not\\ndart.\\nCLVIII.\\nNot by its fault\u00e2\u0080\u0094 but thine: Our outward\\nsense\\nIs but of gradual grasp and as it is\\nThat what we have of feeling most intense\\nOutstrips our faint expression even so this\\nOutshining and o erwhelming edifice\\nFools our fond gaze, and greatest of the great\\nDefies at first our Nature s littleness.\\nTill, growing with its growth, we thus dilate\\nOur spirits to the size of that they contemplate.\\n18", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0285.jp2"}, "286": {"fulltext": "274 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nCLIX.\\nThen paused and be enlighten d; there is\\nmore\\nIn such a survey than the sating gaze\\nOf wonder pleased, or awe which would adore\\nThe worship of the place, or the mere praise\\nOf art and its great masters, who could raise\\nWhat former time, nor skill, nor thought\\ncould plan\\nThe fountain of sublimity displays\\nIts depth, and thence may draw the mind of\\nman\\nIts golden sands, and learn what great con-\\nceptions can.\\nCLX.\\n)r turning to the Vatican, go see\\nLaocoon s torture dignifying pain\\nA father s love and mortal s agony\\nWith an immortal s patience blending:\\nVain\\nThe struggle; vain, against the coiling strain\\nAnd gripe, and deepening of the dragon s\\ngrasp,\\nThe old man s clench; the long envenom d\\nchain\\nRivets the living links, the enormous asp\\nEnforces pang on pang, and strifles gasp on\\ngasp.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0286.jp2"}, "287": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 275\\nCLXI.\\nOr view the Lord of the unerring bow,\\nThe God of life, and poesy, and light\\nThe sun in human limbs array d, and brow\\nAll radiant from his triumph in the fight:\\nThe shaft hath just been shot\u00e2\u0080\u0094 the arrow\\nbright\\nWith an immortal s vengeance; in his eye\\nAnd nostril beautiful disdain, and might,\\nAnd majesty, flash their full lightnings by,\\nDeveloping in that one glance the Deity.\\nCLXII.\\nBut in his delicate form\u00e2\u0080\u0094 a dream of Love,\\nShaped by some solitary nymph, whose\\nbreast\\nLong d for a deathless lover from above,\\nAnd madden d in that vision\u00e2\u0080\u0094 are exprest\\nAll that ideal beauty ever bless d\\nThe mind within its most unearthly mood,\\nWhen each conception was a heavenly\\nguest\\nA ray of immortality\u00e2\u0080\u0094 and stood,\\nStarlike, around, until they gather d to a god\\nCLXIII.\\nAnd if it be Prometheus stole from heaven\\nThe fire which we endure, it was repaid", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0287.jp2"}, "288": {"fulltext": "27G CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nBy him to whom the energy was given\\nWhich this poetic marble hath array d\\nWith an eternal glory which, if made\\nBy human hands, is not of human thought;\\nAnd Time himself hath hallow d it, nor laid\\nOne ringlet in the dust nor hath it caught\\nA tinge of years, but breathes the flame with\\nwhich twas wrought.\\nI, XIV.\\nBut where is he, the Pilgrim of my song,\\nThe being who upheld it through the past?\\nMethinks he cometh late and tarries long.\\nHe is no more these breathings are his last\\nHis wanderings done, his visions ebbing fast,\\nAnd he himself as nothing: if he was\\nAught but a phantasy, and could be class d\\nWith forms which live and suffer let that\\npass\\nHis shadow fades away into Destruction s\\nmass.\\nCLXV.\\nWhich gathers shadow substance, life, and\\nall\\nThat we inherit in its mortal shroud,\\nAnd spread the dim and universal pall\\nThrough which all things grow phantoms;\\nand the cloud", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0288.jp2"}, "289": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 277\\nBetween us sinks and all which ever glow d,\\nTill Glory s self is twilight, and displays\\nA melancholy halo scarce allow d\\nTo hover on the verge of darkness; rays\\nSadder than saddest night, for they distract\\nthe gaze.\\nCLXVl.\\nAnd send lis prying into the abyss,\\nTo gather what we shall be when the frame\\nShall be resolved to something less than this\\nIts wretched essence and to dream of fame,\\nAnd wipe the dust from off the idle name\\nWe never more shall hear, but never more,\\nOh, happier thought can we be made the\\nsame:\\nIt is enough, in sooth, that once we bore\\nThese fardels of the heart the heart whose\\nsweat was gore.\\nCLXVII.\\nHark forth from the abyss a voice proceeds,\\nA long, low distant murmur of dread sound,\\nSuch as arises when a nation bleeds\\nWith some deep and immedicable wound;\\nThrough storm and darkness yawns the\\nrending ground,\\nThe gulf is thick with phantoms, but the\\nchief", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0289.jp2"}, "290": {"fulltext": "278 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nSeems royal, still, though with her head dis-\\ncrown V*,\\nAnd pale, but lovely, with maternal grief\\nvShe clasps a babe, to whom her breast yields\\nno relief.\\nCLXVIII.\\nScion of chiefs and monarchs, where art\\nthou?\\nFond hope of many nations, art thou dead?\\nCould not the grave forget thee, and lay low\\nSome less majestic, less beloved head?\\nIn the sad midnight, while thy heart still\\nbled.\\nThe mother of a moment, o er thy boy,\\nDeath hush d that pang for ever: with thee\\nfled\\nThe present happiness and promised joy\\nWhich fill d the imperial isles so full it seem d\\nto cloy.\\nCLXIX.\\nPeasants bring forth in safety. Can it be,\\nO thou that wert so happy, so adored\\nThose who weep not for kings shall weep for\\nthee,\\nAnd Freedom s heart, grown heavy, cease to\\nhoard,\\nHer many griefs for One for she had pour d", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0290.jp2"}, "291": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 279\\nHer orisons for thee, and o er thy head\\nBeheld her Iris. Thou, too, lonely lord,\\nAnd desolate consort vainly wert thou wed\\nThe husband of a year! the father of the dead!\\nCLXX.\\nOf sackcloth was thy wedding garment\\nmade;\\nThy bridal s fruit is ashes; in the dust\\nThe fair-hair d Daughter of the Isles is laid,\\nThe love of millions! How we did entrust\\nFuturity to her and, though it must\\nDarken above our bones, yet fondly deem d\\nOur children should obey her child, and\\nbless d\\nHer and her hoped-for seed, whose promise\\nseem d\\nLike star to shepherds eyes twas but a meteor\\nbeam d.\\nCLXXI.\\nWoe unto us, not her: for she sleeps well\\nThe fickle reek of popular breath, the tongue\\nOf hollow counsel, the false oracle,\\nWhich from the birth of monachy hath rung\\nIts knell in princely ears, till the o erstrung", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0291.jp2"}, "292": {"fulltext": "280 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE,\\nNations have arni d in madness, the strange\\nfate*\\nWhich tumbles mightiest sovereigns, and\\nhath flung\\nAgainst their blind omnipotence a weight\\nWithin the opposing scale, which crushes soon\\nor late,\\nCLXXII.\\nThese might have been her destiny; but no,\\nOur hearts deny it: and so young, so fair,\\nGood without effort, great without a foe;\\nBut now a bride and mother and now there\\nHow many ties did that stern moment tear?\\nFrom thy Sire s to his humblest subject s\\nbreast\\nIs link d the electric chain of that despair,\\nWhose shock was as an earthquake s, and\\nopprest\\nThe land which loved thee so, that none could\\nlove thee best.\\nCLXXIII.\\nLo, Nemi! navell d in the woody hills\\nSo far, that the uprooting wind which tears\\nThe oak from his foundation, and which spills\\nMary died on the scaffold; Elizabeth of a broken heart;\\nCharles V. a hermit; Louise XIV. a bankrupt in means and\\nglory; Cromwell of anxiety; and Napoleon died a prisoner.\\nTo these sovereigns a long but superfluous list might be added\\nof names equally illustrious and unhappy.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0292.jp2"}, "293": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 281\\nThe ocean o er its boundary, and bears\\nIts foam against the skies, reluctant spares\\nThe oval mirror of thy glassy lake\\nAnd, calm as cherish d hate, its surface wears\\nA deep cold settled aspect nought can shake,\\nAll coil d into itself and round, as sleeps the\\nsnake.\\nCLXXIV.\\nAnd near Albano s scarce divided waves\\nShine from a sister valley and afar\\nThe Tiber winds, and the broad ocean laves\\nThe Latian coast where sprung the Epic war,\\nArms and the Man, whose reascending\\nstar\\nRose o er an empire but beneath thy right\\nTully reposed from Rome; and where yon\\nbar\\nOf girdling mountains intercepts the sight,\\nThe Sabine farm was till d, the weary bard s\\ndelight.\\nCLXXV.\\nBut I forget, My Pilgrim s shrine is won.\\nAnd he and I must part, so let it be,\\nHis task and mine alike are nearly done\\nYet once more let us look upon the sea\\nThe midland ocean breaks on him and me,\\nAnd from the Alban Mount we now behold", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0293.jp2"}, "294": {"fulltext": "282 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nOur friend of youth, that ocean, which when\\nwe\\nBeheld it last by Calpe s rock unfold\\nThose waves, we follow d on till the dark Eux-\\nine roll d\\nCLXXVI.\\nUpon the blue Symplegades: long years\\nLong, though not very many since have\\ndone\\nTheir work on both; some suffering and\\nsome tears\\nHave left us nearly where we had begun\\nYet not in vain our mortal race hath run,\\nWe have had our reward and it is here\\nThat we can yet feel gladden d by the sun,\\nAnd reap from earth, sea, joy almost as dear\\nAs if there were no man to trouble what is\\nclear.\\nCLXXVII.\\nOh! that the Desert were my dwelling-place,\\nWith one fair Spirit for my minister,\\nThat I might all forget the human race,\\nAnd, hating no one, love but only her!\\nYe Elements! in whose ennobling stir\\nI feel myself exalted can ye not\\nAccord me such a being? Do I err\\nIn dreaming such inhabit many a spot?", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0294.jp2"}, "295": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 283\\nThough with them to converse can rarely be\\nour lot.\\nCLXXVIII.\\nThere is a pleasure in the pathless woods,\\nThere is a rapture on the lonely shore,\\nThere is society where none intrudes,\\nBy the deep Sea, and music in its roar:\\nI love not man the less, but Nature more,\\nFrom these our interviews, in which I steal\\nFrom all I may be, or have been before,\\nTo mingle with the Universe and feel\\nWhat I can ne er express, yet cannot all con-\\nceal.\\nCLXXIX.\\nRoll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean\\nroll!\\nTen thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;\\nMan marks the earth with ruin his control\\nStops with the shore upon the watery plain\\nThe wrecks are all tlry deed, nor doth remain\\nA shadow of man s ravage, save his own,\\nWhen for a moment, like a drop of rain,\\nHe sinks into thy depths with bubbling\\ngroan,\\nWithout a grave, unknell d, uncoffin d, and\\nunknown.", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0295.jp2"}, "296": {"fulltext": "284 CHILDE HAROLDS PILGRIMAGE.\\nCLXXX.\\nHis steps are not upon thy paths, thy fields\\nArc not a spoil for him, thou dost arise\\nAnd shake him from thee; the vile strength\\nhe wields\\nFor earth s destruction thou dost all despise,\\nSpurning him from thy bosom to the skies,\\nAnd send st him, shivering in thy playful\\nspray\\nAnd howling, to his gods, where haply lies\\nHis petty hope in some near port r bay,\\nAnd dashest him again to earth: there let\\nhim lay.\\nCLXXXI.\\nThe armaments which thunderstrike the\\nwalls\\nOf rock-built cities, bidding- nations quake,\\nAnd monarchs tremble in their capitals,\\nThe oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make\\nTheir clay creator the vain title take\\nOf lord of thee, and arbiter of war;\\nThese are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake,\\nThey melt into thy yeast of waves, which\\nmar\\nAlike the Armada s pride, or spoils of Traf-\\nal ear.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0296.jp2"}, "297": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 285\\nCLXXXII.\\nThy shores are empires, changed in all save\\nthee\\nAssyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are\\nthey?\\nThy waters washed them power while they\\nwere free,\\nAnd many a tyrant since their shores obey\\nThe stranger, slave, or savage their decay\\nHas dried up realms to deserts: not so thou,\\nUnchangeable save to thy wild waves play\\nTime writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow\\nSuch as creation s dawn beheld, thou rollest\\nnow.\\nCLXXX1II.\\nThou glorious mirror, where the Almighty s\\nform\\nGlasses itself in tempests; in all time,\\nCalm or convulsed in breeze, or gale, or\\nstorm,\\nIcing the pole, or in the torrid clime\\nDark heaving; boundless, endless, and\\nsublime\\nThe image of Eternity the throne\\nOf the Invisible even from out thy slime\\nThe monsters of the deep are made; each.\\nzone", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0297.jp2"}, "298": {"fulltext": "286 CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE.\\nObeys thee thou goest forth, dread, fathom-\\nless, alone.\\nCLXXX1V.\\nAnd I have loved thee, Ocean; and my joy\\nOf youthful sports was on thy breast to be\\nBorne like thy bubbles, onward: from a boy\\nI wanton d with thy breakers they to me\\nWere a delight and if the freshening sea\\nMade them a terror twas a pleasing fear,\\nFor I was as it were a child of thee,\\nAnd trusted to thy billows far and near,\\nAnd laid my hand upon thy mane as I do here.\\nCLXXXV.\\nMy task is done my sung hath ceased my\\ntheme\\ns died into an echo: it is fit\\nThe spell should break of this protracted\\ndream.\\nThe torch shall be extinguished which hath\\nlit\\nmidnight lamp and what is writ, is\\nwrit\\nWould it were worthier! but I am not now\\nThat which I have been and my visions flit\\nLess palpably before me and the glow\\nWhich in my spirit dwelt is fluttering, faint,\\nand low.", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0298.jp2"}, "299": {"fulltext": "CHILDE HAROLD S PILGRIMAGE. 287\\nCLXXXVI.\\nFarewell! a word that must be, and hath\\nbeen\\nA sound which makes us linger yet, fare-\\nwell!\\nYe, who have traced the Pilgrim to the scene\\nWhich is his last, if in your memories dwell\\nA thought which once was his, if on ye swell\\nA single recollection, not in vain\\nHe wore his sandal-shoon and scallop-shell\\nFarewell! with him alone may rest the pain,\\nIf such there were with you, the moral of his\\nstrain.\\nTHE END.", "height": "2889", "width": "1858", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0299.jp2"}, "300": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0300.jp2"}, "301": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2889", "width": "1838", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0301.jp2"}, "302": {"fulltext": "AUG", "height": "2895", "width": "1843", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0302.jp2"}, "303": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2889", "width": "1838", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0303.jp2"}, "304": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3042", "width": "1868", "jp2-path": "childeharoldspil05byro_0304.jp2"}}