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CL.

CLVI. But here yout'i offers to old age the food,

Thou movest-but increasing with the advance, The milk of his own gift:it is her sire

Like climbing some great Alp, which still doth rise, To whom she renders back the debt of blood Deceived by its gigantic elegance; Born with her birth. No; he shall not expire Vastness which grows—but grows to harmonize While in those warm and lovely veins the fire All musical in its immensities;

(flame Of health and holy feeling can provide [higher Rich marbles-richer painting-shrines where Great Nature's Nile, whose deep stream rises The lamps of gold-and haighty dume which vies

Than Egypt's river :-from that gentle side In air with Earth's chief siructure, though their Drink, drink and live, old man! Heaven's realm frame holds no such tide.

Sits on the firm-set ground-and this the clouds must claim.

CLVII. The starry fable of the milky way

Thou seest not all; but piecemeal thou must break Has not thy story's purity; it is

To seperate contemplation, the great whole; A constellation of a sweeter ray,

And as the ocean many bays will make, And sacred Nature triumphs more in this

That ask the eyemso here condense thy soul Reverse of her decree, than in the abyss

To more immediate objects, and control Where sparkle distant worlds:-Oh, holiest nurse!

Thy thoughts until thy mind hath got by heart No drop of that clear stream its way shall miss ! Its eloquent proportions, and unroll

To thy sire's heart, replenishing its source 1 In mighty graduations, part by part, With life, as our freed souls rejoin the universe. The glory which at once upon thee did not dart.

CLI.

AS

CLII.

CLVIII. Turn to the Mole which Hadrian rear’d on high,67 Not by its fault-but thine: Our outward sense Imperial mimic of old Egypt's piles,

Is but of gradual grasp-and as it is Colossal copyist of deformity,

That what we have of feeling most intensa Whose travell’d phantasy from the far Nile's

Outstrips our faint expression; even so this Enormous model, doom'd the artist's toils

Outshining and o'erwhelming edifice To build for giants, and for his vain earth,

Fools our fond gaze, and greatest of the great His shrunken ashes, raise this dome: How smiles) Defies at first our Nature's littleness, The gazer's eye with philosophic mirth,

| Till, growing with its growth, we thus dilate To view the huge design which sprung from such a Our spirits to the size of what they contemplate. birth! CLIII.

CLIX. But lo!—the dome-the vast and wondrous dome, 68 Then pause, and be enlightened; there is more To which Diana's marvel was a cell

In such a survey than the sating gaze Christ's mighty shrine above his martyr's tomb! | Of wonder pleased, or awe which would adore I have beheld the Ephesian's miracle

The worship of the place, or the mere praise Its columns strew the wilderness, and dwell Of art and its great masters, who could raise The hyena and the jackall in their shade;

What former time, nor skill, nor thought could I have beheld Sophia's bright roofs swell

The fountain of sublimity displays (plan: Their glittering mass i' the sun, and have survey'd Its depth, and thence may draw the mind of man Its sanctuary the while the usurping Moslem pray'd; Its golden sands, and learn what great conceptions

can.

CLIV.
But thou, of temples old, or altars new,
Standest alone with nothing like to thee
Worthiest of God, the holy and the true,
Since Zion's desolation, when that He
Forsook his former city, what could be,
Of earthly structures, in his honor piled,
Of a sublimer aspect? Majesty,

CLX.
Or, turning to the Vatican, go see
Laoccoon's torture dignifying pain-
A father's love and mortal's agony
With an immortal's patience blending :-Vain
The struggle; vain, against the coiling strain
And gripe, and deepening of the dragon's grasp,
The old man's clench; the long envenomed chain

In this eternal ark of worship undefiled.

Enforces pang on pang, and stifles gasp on gasp.

CLV.
Enter: its grandeur overwhelms thee not;
And why? it is not lessen'd; but thy mind,
Expanded by the genius of the spot,
Has grown colossal, and can only find
A fit abode wherein appear enshrined
Thy hopes of immortality; and thou
Shalt one day, if found worthy, so defined,

See thy God face to face, as thou dost now
flis Holy of Holies, nor be blasted by his brow.

CLXI.
Or view the Lord of the unerring bow,
The God of life, and poesy, and light-
The Sun in human limbs array'd, and brow
All radiant from his triumph in the fight;
The shaft hath just been shot-the arrow bright
With an immortal's vengeance; in his eye
And nostril beautiful disdain, and might,

And majesty, flash their full lightnings by
Developing in that one glance the Deitv

CLXII.
But in his delicate form-a dream of Love,
Shaped by some solitary nymph, whose breast
Long'd for a deathless lover from above,
And madden'd in that vision--are exprest
All that ideal beauty ever bless'd
The mind with in its most unearthly mood,
When each conception was a heavenly guest-

A ray of immortality-and stood,
Starlike, around, until they gather'd to a god!

CLXVIII.
Scion of chiefs and monarchs, where art thou ?
Fond hope of many nations, art thou dead ?
Could not the grave forget thee, and lay low
Some less majestic, less beloved head ?
In the sad midnight, while thy heart still bled,
The mother of a moment, o'er thy boy,
Death hush'd that pang for ever; with thee fied

The present happiness and promised joy
Which fill’d the imperial isles so full it seem'd to cloy

11

CLXIII.

CLXIX.
And if it be Prometheus stole from Heaven Peasants bring forth in safety.-Can it be,
The fire which we endure, it was repaid

Oh thou that wert so happy, so adored!
By him to whom the energy was given

Those who weep not for kings shall weep for thee, Which this poetic marble hath array'd

And Freedom's heart, grown heavy, cease to hoard With an eternal glory--which, if made

Her many griefs for ONE; for she had pour'd By human hands, is not of human thought;

Her orisons for thee, and o'er thy head And Time himself hath hallow'd it, nor laid

Beheld her Iris.-Thou, too, lonely lord, One ringlet in the dust-nor hath it caught

And desolate consort-vainly wert thou wed! A tinge of years, but breathes the flame with which The husband of a year! the father of the dead ! 'twas wrought.

CLXX.
CLXIV.

Of sackcloth was thy wedding garment made; But where is he, the Pilgrim of my song,

Thy bridal's fruit is ashes : in the dust The being who upheld it through the past?

The fair-hair'd Daughter of the Isles is laid, Vethinks he cometh late and tarries long.

The love of millions! How we did intrust He is no more-these breathings are his last,

Futurity to her! and, though it must Ilis wanderings done, his visions ebbing fast,

Darken above our bones, yet fondly deem'd And he himself as nothing :--if he was

Our children should obey her child, and bless'd Lught but a phantasy, and could be class'd

Her and her hoped-for seed, whose promise seem'd With forms which live and suffer--let that passa

pass |Like stars to shepherd's eyes :—'twas but a meteor His shadow fades away into Destruction's mass,

beam’d. CLXV.

CLXXI. Which gathers shadow, substance, life, and all

Wo unto us, not her; for she sleeps well : That we inherit in its mortal shroud,

The fickle reek of popular breath, the tongue And spreads the dim and universal pall [cloud

Of hollow counsel, the false oracle,

Which from the birth of manarchy hath rung Through which all things grow phantoms; and the

Its knell in princely ears, till the o’erstung
Between us sinks and all which ever glow'd,
Till Glory's self is twilight, and displays

Nations have arm'd in madness, the strange fateeg A melancholy halo scarce allow'd

Which stumbles mightiest sovereigns, and hath To hover on the verge of darkness; rays

Against thair blind omnipotence a weight [flung Sadder than saddest night, for they distract the gaze. Within the opposing scale, which crushes soon or

late, CLXVI.

CLXXII. And send us prying into the abyss

These might have been her destiny; but no, To gather what we shall be when the frame

Our hearts deny it: and so young, so fair, Shall be resolved to something less than this Good without effort, great without a foe; Its wretched essence; and to dream of fame,

But now a bride and mother-and now there! And to wipe the dust from off the idle name

How many ties did that stern moment tear! We never more shall hear --but never more,

From thy Sire's to his humblest subject's breast Oh, happier thought! can we be made the same:

Is link'd the electric chain of that despair, It is enough in sooth that once we bore

Whose shock was as an earthquake's, and opprest These fardels of the heart--the heart whose sweat The land which loved thee so that none could love was gore.

thee best. CLXVII.

CLXXIII. Hark! forth from the abyss a voice proceeds, 70 Lo, Nemi! navell'd in the woody hills A long low distant murmur of dread sound, So far, that the uprooting wind which tears Such as arises when a nation bleeds

The oak from his foundation, and which spills With some deep and immedicable wound; [ground, The ocean o'er its boundary, and bears Through storm and darkness yawns the rending Its foam against the skies, reluctant spares The gulf is thick with phantoms, but the chief | The oval mirror of thy glassy lake; Seems royal still, though with her head discrow'd, And, calm as cherish'd hate, its surface wears

And pale, but lovely, with maternal grief I A deep cold settled aspect nought can shake, She clasps a babe to whom her breast yields no relief. All coil'd into itself and round, as sleeps the snake

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CLXXIV.

The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain

A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, And near Albano's scarce divided waves

When, for a moment, like a drop of rain, Shine from a sister valley ;-and afar

He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, The Tiber winds, and the broad ocean laves Without a grave, unknell’d, uncoffin'd, and unThe Latian coast where sprang the Epic war,

known. Arms and the Man,” whose reascending star Rose o'er an empire :--but beneath thy right

CLXXX. Tully reposed from Rome ;-and where yon bar Of girdling mountains intercepts the sight, His steps are not upon thy paths,-thy fields The Sabine farm was till’d, the weary bards delight.71| Are not a spoil for him,--thou dost arise (wields

And shake him from thee: the vile strength he

For earth's destruction thou dost all despise, CLXXV.

Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies,

And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray But I forget.-My Pilgrim's shrine is won,

And howling, to his Gods, where haply lies And he and I must part,---so let it be,

His petty hope in some near port or bay, His task and mine alike are nearly done;

And dashest him again to earth :-there let him lay.
Yet once more let us look upon the sea;
The midland ocean breaks on him and me,
And from the Alban Mount we now behold

CLXXXI.
Our friend of youth, that ocean, which when we
Beheld it last by Calpe's rock unfold

The armaments which thunderstrike the walls Those waves, we follow'd on till the dark Euxine| Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake, roll'd

And monarchs tremble in their capitals,

The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make
CLXXVI.

Their clay creator the vain title take
Upon the blue Symplegades: long years,

Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war:

These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, Long, though not very many, since have done Their work on both; some suffering and some tears

They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar

Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.
Have left us nearly where we had begun:
Yet not in vain our moral race hath run,
We have had our reward-and it is here:

CLXXXII.
That we can yet feel gladden'd by the sun,
And reap from earth, sea, joy almost as dear

Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee As if there were no man to trouble what is clear.

Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they?

Thy waters wasted them while they were free, CLXXVII.

And many a tyrant since; their shores obey

The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay Oh! that the desert were my dwelling-place,

Has dried up realms to deserts :---not so thou, With one fair Spirit for my minister,

Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' playThat I might all forget the human race,

Time writes no wrinkle on thy azure browAnd, hating no one, love but only her!

Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now. Ye Elements !-in whose ennobling stir I feel myself exalted-Can ye not Accord me such a being? Do I err

CLXXXIII. In deeming such inhabit many a spot ?

Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form Though with them to converse can rarely be our lot.

Glasses itself in tempests: in all time,

Calm or convulsed-in breeze, or gale, or storm, CLXXVIII.

Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime

Dark-heaving;--boundless, endless, and sublime There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,

The image of Eternity-the throne There is a rapture on the lonely shore,

Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime There is society, where none intrudes,

The monsters of the deep are made; each zone By the deep Sea, and music in its roar:

Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless I love not Man the less, but Nature more,

alone.
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,

CLXXXIV.
To mingle with the Universe, and feel
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal,

And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy
Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be

Borne, like thy bubbles, onward: from a boy
CLXXIX.

I wanton'd with thy brcakers--they to me

Were a delight; and if the freshening sea Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean-roll! Made them a terror—'twas a pleasing fear, Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; For I was as it were a child of thee, Man marks the earth with ruin-his control And trusted to thy billows far and near, Stops with the shore ;- upon the watery plain And laid my hand upon thy manemas I do here.

CLXXXV.

CLXXXVI. My task is done-my song hath ceased-my theme Farewell! a word that must be, and hath beenHas died into an echo; it is fit

A sound which makes us linger;-yet-farewell. The spell should break of this protracted dream. Ye! who have traced the Pilgrim to the scene The torch shall be extinguish'd which hath lit Which is his last, if in your memories dwell My midnight lamp-and what is writ, is writ, A thought which once was his, if on ye swell Would it were worthier! but I am not now A single recollection, not in vain That which I have been-and my visions flit He wore his sandal-shoon and scallop-shell; Less palpably before me-and the glow

Farewell! with him alone may rest the pain, Which in my spirit dwelt is fluttering, faint, and low. If such there were-with you, the moral of his strair.

NOTES TO CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE.

CANTO I.

Yes! sigh'd o'er Delphi's long deserted shrine. Throughout this purple land, where law secures not

Stanza i. line 6.

life.

Stanza xxi. line last. THE little village of Castri stands partly on the It is a well known fact, that in the year 1809 the site of Delphi. Along the path of the mountain, assassinations in the streets of Lisbon and its from Chrysso, are the remains of sepulchres hewn vicinity were not confined by the Portuguese to in and from the rock. "One," said the guide, “ of their countrymen ; but that Englishmen were daily a king who broke his neck hunting." His majesty butchered : and so far from redress being obtained, had certainly chosen the fittest spot for such an we were requested not to interfere if we perceived achievement.

any compatriot defending himself against his allies. A little above Castri is a care, supposed the I was once stopped in the way to the theatre at Pythian, of immense depth; the upper part of it is eight o'clock in the evening, when the streets were paved, and now a cow-house.

not more empty than they generally are at that On the other side of Castri stands a Greek (hour, opposite to an open shop and in a carriage monastery; some way above which is the cleft in with a friend; had we not fortunately been armed, the rock, with a range of caverns difficult of ascent, I have not the least doubt that we should have and apparently leading to the interior of the moun- adorned a tale instead of telling one. The crime tain; probably to the Corycian Cavern mentioned of assassination is not confined to Portugal; in by Pausahias From this part descend the fountain Sicily and Malta we are knocked on the head at a and the “ Dews of Castalie.”

handsome average nightly, and not a Sicilian or Maltese is ever punished !

And rest ye at our Lady's house of wo.

1 Behold the hall where chiefs were late convened! Stanza xx. line 4. I

Stanza xxiv. line 1. The Convent of Our Lady of Punishment,” Nossa Senora de Pena, * on the summit of the rock.lm.

| The Convention of Cintra was signed in the Below, at some distance, is the Cork Convent,

palace of the Marchese Marialva. The late exploits where St. Honorius dug his den, over which is his og

of Lord Wellington have effaced the follies of epitaph. From the hills, the sea adds to the beauty

Cintra. He has, indeed, done wonders; he has

by perhaps changed the character of a nation, recon of the view.

ciled rival superstitions, and baffled an enemy who

never retreated before his predecessors. * Since the publication of this poem, I have been informed of the misapprehension of the tern Nos Senora de Pena. It was owing to the want or the tilde, or mark over the n, which alters the signification of the word : with it, Pena signifies a rock; without it, Pena has the sense I adopted. I do not Yet Mafra shall one moment claim delay. think it necessary to alter the passage, as, though the common acceptation

Stanza xxix. line 1. r.ffixed to it is “ Our Lady of the Rock," I may well assuine the other sense from the severities practised there.

The extent of Mafra is prodigious; it contains a

14.

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palace, convent, and most superb church. The six organs are the most beautiful I ever beheld, in point of decorations; we did not hear them, but were told that their tones were correspondent to their splendor. Mafra is termed the Escurial of Portugal.

Fair is proud Seville ; let her country boast
Her strength, her wealth, her site of ancient days.

Stanza lxv. lines 1 and 2.
Seville was the Hispalis of the Romans.

6.

15.

16.

18.

19.

Well doth the Spanish hind the difference know
'Trixt him and Lusian slave, the lowest of the low.

Ask ye, Baotian shades, the reason why ?
Stanza xxxiii. lines 8 and 9.

Stanza lxx. line 5. As I found the Portuguese, so I have characterized

This was written at Thebes, and consequently in

w the best situation for asking and answering such a them. That they are since improved, at least in

question : not as the birthplace of Pindar, but as courage, is evident.

the capital of Baotia, where the first riddle was

propounded and solved. When Cava's traitor sire first calld the band That dyed thy mountain streams with Gothic gore.

Stanza xxxv. lines 3 and 4. Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings. Count Julian's daughter, the Helen of Spain.

Stanza lxxxii. line last. Pelagius preserved his independence in the fast

"Medio de fonte leporum nesses of the Asturias, and the descendants of his Surgit amari aliquid quod in ipsis floribus angat." followers, after some centuries, completed their

LUC. struggle by the conquest of Grenada

17.

A traitor only fell beneath the feud. 8.

Stanza lxxxv. line 7. No! as he speeds, he chants, Viva el Rey!Alluding to the conduct and death of Solano,

Stanza xlviii. line 5. the Governor of Cadiz. « Viva el Rey Fernando !” Long live King Ferdinand! is the chorus of most of the Spanish patriotic songs: they are chiefly in dispraise of the

"Iar even to the knife!ald king Charles, the Queen, and the Prince of

Stanza lxxxvi. line iast. Peace. I have heard many of them; some of the “War to the knife." Palafox's answer to the airs are beautiful. Godoy, the Principe de la Paz, French general at the siege of Saragoza. was born at Badajoz, on the frontiers of Portugal, and was originally in the ranks of the Spanish Guards, till his person attracted the queen's eyes, and raised him to the dukedom of Alcudia, &c. &c.

And thou, my friend ! &c. It is to this man that the Spaniards universally

Stanza xci. line 1. impute the ruin of their country.

The Honorable I*. W**. of the Guards, who died of a fever at Coinbra. I had known him ten years, the better half of his life, and the happiest

part of mine. Bears in his cap the badge of crimson hue, .. Which tells you whom to shun and whom to greet. who gave me being, and most of those who had

| In the short space of one month I had lost her Stanza l. lines 2 and 3. made that being tolerable. To me the lines of The red cockade, with “ Fernando Septimo" in Young are no fiction : the centre.

1“ Insatiate archer! could not one suffice ? 10.

Thy shaft flew thrice, and thrice my peace was slain, The ball-piled pyramid, the ever-blazing match. And thrice ere thrice yon moon had filled her horn."

Stanza li. line last. All who have seen a battery will recollect the I should have ventured a verse to the memory of pyramidal form in which shot and shells are piled. the late Charles Skinner Matthews, Fellow of The Sierra Morena was fortified in every defile Downing College, Cambridge, were he not too through which I passed in my way to Seville. much above all praise of mine. His powers of

mind, shown in the attainment of greater honors, 11.

against the ablest candidates, than those of any

graduate on record at Cambridge, have sufficiently Foil'd by a woman's hand, before a batter'll wall. established his fame on the spot where it was

Stanza lvi. line last.

acquired: while his softer qualities live in the Such were the exploits of the Maid of Saragoza. recollection of friends who loved him too well te When the author was at Seville she walked daily envy his superiority. on the Prado, decorated with medals and orders, by command of the Junta.

12. The seal Love's dimpling finger hath impress'd Denotes how soft that chin which bears his touch.

Stanza lviii. lines 1 and 2.
“Sigilla in mento impressa Amoris digitulo
Vestigio demonstrant mollitudinem.”° AUL. GEL.

CANTO II.
13.
Oh, thou Parnassus!

Stanza lx. line 1. —despite of war and wasting fire-
These stanzas were written in Castri, (Delphos,)

Stanza i. line 4. at the foot of Parnassus, now called 'Alakupa- PART of the Acropolis was destroyed by the Liakura.

Texplosion of a magazine during the Venetian siege.

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