XLVIII. Beneath these battlements, within those walls, Power dwelt amidst her passions; in proud state Each robber chief upheld his armed halls, Doing his evil will, nor less elate Than mightier heroes of a longer date. What want these outlaws (10) conquerors should have? A wider space, an ornamented grave? Their hopes were not less warm, their souls were full as brave. XLIX. In their baronial feuds and single fields, And Love, which lent a blazon to their shields, And many a tower for some fair mischief won, Saw the discolour'd Rhine beneath its ruin run. L. But Thou, exulting and abounding river! Making thy waves a blessing as they flow Through banks whose beauty would endure for ever With the sharp scythe of conflict,-then to see Thy valley of sweet waters, were to know Earth paved like Heaven; and to seem such to me Even now what wants thy stream?-that it should Lethe be. LI. A thousand battles have assail'd thy banks, But these and half their fame have pass'd away, And all was stainless, and on thy clear stream Thy waves would vainly roll, all sweeping as they seem. LII. Thus Harold inly said, and pass'd along, In glens which might have made even exile dear: Joy was not always absent from his face, But o'er it in such scenes would steal with transient trace. LIII. Nor was all love shut from him, though his days Of passion had consumed themselves to dust. On such as smile upon us; the heart must LIV. And he had learn'd to love,-I know not why, For this in such as him seems strange of mood,- Even in its earliest nurture; what subdued, To change like this, a mind so far imbued With scorn of man, it little boots to know; But thus it was; and though in solitude Small power the nipp'd affections have to grow, In him this glow'd when all beside had ceased to glow. LV. And there was one soft breast, as hath been said, Than the church links withal; and, though unwed, Had stood the test of mortal enmities Still undivided, and cemented more By peril, dreaded most in female eyes; But this was firm, and from a foreign shore Well to that heart might his these absent greetings pour! 1. The castled crag of Drachenfels (11) Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine, 2. And peasant girls, with deep blue eyes, Walk smiling o'er this paradise; Above, the frequent feudal towers Through green leaves lift their walls of gray, And many a rock which steeply lours, And noble arch in proud decay, Look o'er this vale of vintage-bowers; But one thing want these banks of Rhine, Thy gentle hand to clasp in mine! |