Childe Harolds Pilgrimage | Page 4

the prince's palace fair:
There thou, too, Vathek! England's
wealthiest son,
Once formed thy Paradise, as not aware
When
wanton Wealth her mightiest deeds hath done,
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 convened!
Oh! dome
displeasing unto British eye!
With diadem hight foolscap, lo! a fiend,

A little fiend that scoffs incessantly,
There sits in parchment robe
arrayed, and by
His side is hung a seal and sable scroll,
Where
blazoned glare names known to chivalry,
And sundry signatures
adorn the roll,
Whereat the urchin points, and laughs with all his soul.
XXV.
Convention is the dwarfish demon styled
That foiled the knights in
Marialva's dome:
Of brains (if brains they had) he them beguiled,

And turned a nation's shallow joy to gloom.
Here Folly dashed to
earth the victor's plume,
And Policy regained what Arms had lost:

For chiefs like ours in vain may laurels bloom!
Woe to the
conquering, not the conquered host,
Since baffled Triumph droops on
Lusitania's coast.
XXVI.
And ever since that martial synod met,
Britannia sickens, Cintra, at
thy name;
And folks in office at the mention fret,
And fain would
blush, if blush they could, for shame.
How will posterity the deed

proclaim!
Will not our own and fellow-nations sneer,
To view these
champions cheated of their fame,
By foes in fight o'erthrown, yet
victors here,
Where Scorn her finger points through many a coming
year?
XXVII.
So deemed the Childe, as o'er the mountains he
Did take his way in
solitary guise:
Sweet was the scene, yet soon he thought to flee,

More restless than the swallow in the skies:
Though here awhile he
learned to moralise,
For Meditation fixed at times on him,
And
conscious Reason whispered to despise
His early youth misspent in
maddest whim;
But as he gazed on Truth, his aching eyes grew dim.
XXVIII.
To horse! to horse! he quits, for ever quits
A scene of peace, though
soothing to his soul:
Again he rouses from his moping fits,
But
seeks not now the harlot and the bowl.
Onward he flies, nor fixed as
yet the goal
Where he shall rest him on his pilgrimage;
And o'er
him many changing scenes must roll,
Ere toil his thirst for travel can
assuage,
Or he shall calm his breast, or learn experience sage.
XXIX.
Yet Mafra shall one moment claim delay,
Where dwelt of yore the
Lusians' luckless queen;
And church and court did mingle their array,

And mass and revel were alternate seen;
Lordlings and
freres--ill-sorted fry, I ween!
But here the Babylonian whore had built

A dome, where flaunts she in such glorious sheen,
That men forget
the blood which she hath spilt,
And bow the knee to Pomp that loves
to garnish guilt.
XXX.

O'er vales that teem with fruits, romantic hills,
(Oh that such hills
upheld a free-born race!)
Whereon to gaze the eye with joyaunce fills,

Childe Harold wends through many a pleasant place.
Though
sluggards deem it but a foolish chase,
And marvel men should quit
their easy chair,
The toilsome way, and long, long league to trace.

Oh, there is sweetness in the mountain air
And life, that bloated Ease
can never hope to share.
XXXI.
More bleak to view the hills at length recede,
And, less luxuriant,
smoother vales extend:
Immense horizon-bounded plains succeed!

Far as the eye discerns, withouten end,
Spain's realms appear,
whereon her shepherds tend
Flocks, whose rich fleece right well the
trader knows -
Now must the pastor's arm his lambs defend:
For
Spain is compassed by unyielding foes,
And all must shield their all,
or share Subjection's woes.
XXXII.
Where Lusitania and her Sister meet,
Deem ye what bounds the rival
realms divide?
Or e'er the jealous queens of nations greet,
Doth
Tayo interpose his mighty tide?
Or dark sierras rise in craggy pride?

Or fence of art, like China's vasty wall? -
Ne barrier wall, ne river
deep and wide,
Ne horrid crags, nor mountains dark and tall
Rise
like the rocks that part Hispania's land from Gaul
XXXIII.
But these between a silver streamlet glides,
And scarce a name
distinguisheth the brook,
Though rival kingdoms press its verdant
sides.
Here leans the idle shepherd on his crook,
And vacant on the
rippling waves doth look,
That peaceful still 'twixt bitterest foemen
flow:
For proud each peasant as the noblest duke:
Well doth the
Spanish hind the difference know
'Twixt him and Lusian slave, the

lowest of the low.
XXXIV.
But ere the mingling bounds have far been passed,
Dark Guadiana
rolls his power along
In sullen billows, murmuring and vast,
So
noted ancient roundelays among.
Whilome upon his banks did
legions throng
Of Moor and Knight, in mailed splendour drest;

Here ceased the swift their race, here sunk the strong;
The Paynim
turban and the Christian crest
Mixed on the bleeding stream, by
floating hosts oppressed.
XXXV.
Oh, lovely Spain! renowned, romantic land!
Where is that standard
which Pelagio bore,
When