Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (With Byron's Biography). Lord Byron. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Lord Byron
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      He passed the sacred Haram's silent tower,

       And underneath the wide o'erarching gate

       Surveyed the dwelling of this Chief of power,

       Where all around proclaimed his high estate.

       Amidst no common pomp the Despot sate,

       While busy preparation shook the court,

      LVII.

      Richly caparisoned, a ready row

       Of arméd horse, and many a warlike store,

       Circled the wide-extending court below;

       Above, strange groups adorned the corridore;

       And oft-times through the area's echoing door

       Some high-capped Tartar spurred his steed away:

       The Turk—the Greek—the Albanian—and the Moor,

       Here mingled in their many-hued array,

      LVIII.

      The wild Albanian kirtled to his knee,

       With shawl-girt head and ornamented gun,

       And gold-embroidered garments, fair to see;

       The crimson-scarféd men of Macedon;

       The Delhi with his cap of terror on,

       And crooked glaive—the lively, supple Greek

       And swarthy Nubia's mutilated son;

       The bearded Turk that rarely deigns to speak,

       Master of all around, too potent to be meek,

      LIX.

      LX.

      LXI.

      Here woman's voice is never heard: apart,

      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,

      LXIII.

      It is not that yon hoary lengthening beard

      LXIV.

      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