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Along the hordering lake,
What answer shall she make ?'-
Thy grief let none gainsay; But I, who am of lighter mood,
Will laugh to flee away.
8. “For who would trust the seeming sighs
Of wife or paramour?.
We late saw streaming o'er.
Nor perils gathering near ;
No thing that claims a tear
Upon the wide, wide sea :
When none will sigh for me?
Till fed by stranger hands ; But long ere I come back again,
He'd tear me where he stands.
Athwart the foaming brine;
So not again to mine.
And when you fail my sight,
Welcome ye deserts, and ye caves !
My native land-Good Night!"
And soon on board the Lucian pilots leap,
A nation swoln with ignorance and pride, • Who lick yet loathe the hand that waves the sword To save them from the wrath of Gaul's unsparing lord.
Doth care for cleanriess of surtout or shirt, Though shent with Egypt's plagʻue, unkempt, un
wash'd ; unhurt.
XVIII. Poor, paltry slaves! yet born 'midst noblest
Why, Nature, waste thy glory on such men?
Than those whereof such things the bard relates, Who to the awe-struck world unlock'd Elysium's
XIX The horrid crags, by toppling convent crown'd, The cork-trees hoar that clothe the shaggy steep, The mountain-moss by scorching skies imbrown'd The sunken glen, whose sunless shrubs must The tender azure of the unruffled deep, (weep, The orange tints that gaild the greenest bough, The torrents that from cliff to valley leap,
The vine on high, the willow branch below, Mix'd in one mighty scene, with varied beauty glow.
XX. Then slowly climb the many-winding way, And frequent turn to linger as you go, From loftier rocks new loveliness survey, And rest ye at our "Lady's house of wo;" (2) Where frugal monks their little relics show, And sundry legends to the stranger Here impious men have punish'd been, and lo!
Deep in yon cave Honorius long did dwell, In hope to merit Heaven by making earth a Hell.
XXI. And here and there as up the crags you spring, Mark many rude-carved crosses near the path: Yet deem not these devotion's offeringThese are memorials frail of murderous wrath : For wheresoe'er the shrieking victim hath Pour'd forth his bloopd beneath the assassin's
knife Some hand erects a cross of mouldering lath ;
And grove and glen with thousand such are rife Throughout this purple land, where law secures
not life. (3)
XXII. On sloping mounds, or in the vale beneath, Are domes where whilome kings did make re
pair; But now the wild flowers round them only
breathe; Yet ruin'd splendour still is lingering there. And yonder towers the Prince's palace fair; There thou too, Vathek! England's wealthiest
Once form'd thy Paradise, as not aware [done,
When wanton Wealth her mightiest deeds hath Meek peace voluptuous lures was ever wont to shun:
XXIII. Here didst thou dwell, here, schemes of pleasure
plan, Beneath yon mountain's ever beauteous brow: But now, as if a thing unblest by Man, Thy fairy dwelling is as lone as thou ! Here giant weeds a passage scarce allow To halls deserted, portals gaping wide: Fresh lessons to the thinking bosom, how
Vain are the pleasaunces on earth supplied ; Swept into wrecks anon by Time's ungentle tide!
XXIV. Behold the hall where chiefs were late con
vened ! (4) Oh ! dome displeasing unto British eye! With diadem hight foolscap, lo! a fiend, A little fiend that scoffs incessantly, There sits in parchment robe array'd, and by His side is hung a seal and sable scroll, Where blazon'd glare names known to chivalry,
And sundry signatures adorn the roll, Whereat the Urchin points and laughs with all his
XXV. Convention is the dwarfish demon styled That foild the knights in Marialva's dome: Of brains (if brains they had) he them beguiled, And turn'd a nation's shallow joy to gloom. Here Folly dash'd to earth the victor's plume, And Policy regain'd what arms had lost: For chiefs like ours in vain may laurels bloom!