Lord Byron

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


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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,

      LXX.

      LXXI.

      On the smooth shore the night-fires brightly blazed,

      LXXII.

      Childe Harold at a little distance stood

       And viewed, but not displeased, the revelrie,

       Nor hated harmless mirth, however rude:

       In sooth, it was no vulgar sight to see

       Their barbarous, yet their not indecent, glee;

       And, as the flames along their faces gleamed,

       Their gestures nimble, dark eyes flashing free,

       The long wild locks that to their girdles streamed,

      1.

      2.

      Oh! who is more brave than a dark Suliote,

      3.

      4.

      Macedonia sends forth her invincible race;

       For a time they abandon the cave and the chase:

       But those scarfs of blood-red shall be redder, before

       The sabre is sheathed and the battle is o'er.

      5.

      Then the Pirates of Parga that dwell by the waves,

       And teach the pale Franks what it is to be slaves,

       Shall leave on the beach the long galley and oar,

       And track to his covert the captive on shore.

      6.

      I ask not the pleasures that riches supply,

       My sabre shall win what the feeble must buy;

      7.

      8.

      9.

      I talk not of mercy, I talk not of fear;

       He neither must know who would serve the Vizier:

       Since the days of our Prophet the Crescent ne'er saw

       A chief ever glorious like Ali Pashaw.

      10.