heard: apart,And scarce permitted, guarded, veiled, to move,fg She yields to one her person and her heart, Tamed to her cage, nor feels a wish to rove: For, not unhappy in her Master's love,fh And joyful in a mother's gentlest cares, Blest cares! all other feelings far above! Herself more sweetly rears the babe she bears Who never quits the breast—no meaner passion shares.
LXII.
In marble-paved pavilion, where a spring
Of living water from the centre rose,
Whose bubbling did a genial freshness fling,
And soft voluptuous couches breathed repose,
Ali reclined, a man of war and woes:160 Yet in his lineaments ye cannot trace, While Gentleness her milder radiance throws161 Along that agéd venerable face, The deeds that lurk beneath, and stain him with disgrace.
LXIII.
It is not that yon hoary lengthening beard
Ill suits the passions which belong to Youth;fi Love conquers Age—so Hafiz hath averr'd, So sings the Teian, and he sings in sooth162— But crimes that scorn the tender voice of ruth,fj163 Beseeming all men ill, but most the man In years, have marked him with a tiger's tooth; Blood follows blood, and, through their mortal span, In bloodier acts conclude those who with blood began.fk164
LXIV.
'Mid many things most new to ear and eyefl The Pilgrim rested here his weary feet, And gazed around on Moslem luxury, Till quickly, wearied with that spacious seat Of Wealth and Wantonness, the choice retreat Of sated Grandeur from the city's noise: And were it humbler it in sooth were sweet; But Peace abhorreth artificial joys, And Pleasure, leagued with Pomp, the zest of both destroys.
LXV.
Fierce are Albania's children, yet they lack
Not virtues, were those virtues more mature.
Where is the foe that ever saw their back?
Who can so well the toil of War endure?
Their native fastnesses not more secure
Than they in doubtful time of troublous need:
Their wrath how deadly! but their friendship sure,
When Gratitude or Valour bids them bleed,
Unshaken rushing on where'er their Chief may lead.
LXVI.
Childe Harold saw them in their Chieftain's tower
Thronging to War in splendour and success;
And after viewed them, when, within their power,
Himself awhile the victim of distress;
That saddening hour when bad men hotlier press:
But these did shelter him beneath their roof,
When less barbarians would have cheered him less,
And fellow-countrymen have stood aloof— 27.B. In aught that tries the heart, how few withstand the proof!
LXVII.
It chanced that adverse winds once drove his bark
Full on the coast of Suli's shaggy shore,165 When all around was desolate and dark; To land was perilous, to sojourn more; Yet for awhile the mariners forbore, Dubious to trust where Treachery might lurk: At length they ventured forth, though doubting sore That those who loathe alike the Frank and Turk Might once again renew their ancient butcher-work.
LXVIII.
Vain fear! the Suliotes stretched the welcome hand,
Led them o'er rocks and past the dangerous swamp,
Kinder than polished slaves though not so bland,
And piled the hearth, and wrung their garments damp,
And filled the bowl, and trimmed the cheerful lamp,
And spread their fare; though homely, all they had:
Such conduct bears Philanthropy's rare stamp:
To rest the weary and to soothe the sad,
Doth lesson happier men, and shames at least the bad.
LXIX.
It came to pass, that when he did address
Himself to quit at length this mountain-land,
Combined marauders half-way barred egress,
And wasted far and near with glaive and brand;
And therefore did he take a trusty band
To traverse Acarnania's forest wide,
In war well-seasoned, and with labours tanned,
Till he did greet white Achelous' tide,
And from his further bank Ætolia's wolds espied.166
LXX.
Where lone Utraikey forms its circling cove,167 And weary waves retire to gleam at rest, How brown the foliage of the green hill's grove, Nodding at midnight o'er the calm bay's breast, As winds come lightly whispering from the West, Kissing, not ruffling, the blue deep's serene:— Here Harold was received a welcome guest; Nor did he pass unmoved the gentle scene, For many a joy could he from Night's soft presence glean.
LXXI.
