Lord Byron

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (With Byron's Biography)


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      Ambracia's gulf behold, where once was lost

      XLVI.

      From the dark barriers of that rugged clime,

       Ev'n to the centre of Illyria's vales,

       Childe Harold passed o'er many a mount sublime,

       Through lands scarce noticed in historic tales:

       Yet in famed Attica such lovely dales

       Are rarely seen; nor can fair Tempe boast

       A charm they know not; loved Parnassus fails,

       Though classic ground and consecrated most,

       To match some spots that lurk within this lowering coast.

      XLVII.

      XLVIII.

      XLIX.

      Amidst the grove that crowns yon tufted hill,

       Which, were it not for many a mountain nigh

       Rising in lofty ranks, and loftier still,

       Might well itself be deemed of dignity,

       The Convent's white walls glisten fair on high:

      L.

      Here in the sultriest season let him rest,

       Fresh is the green beneath those aged trees;

      LI.

      Dusky and huge, enlarging on the sight,

      LII.

      Ne city's towers pollute the lovely view;

       Unseen is Yanina, though not remote,

       Veiled by the screen of hills: here men are few,

       Scanty the hamlet, rare the lonely cot:

      LIII.

      LIV.

      LV.

      LVI.