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It is that settled" ceaseless gloom
The fabled Hebrew wanderer bore; That will not look beyond the tomb, But cannot hope for rest before.
6. What Exile from himself can flee?
To Zones, though more and more remote, o Still, still pursues, where-e’er I be,
The blight of life-the demon , Thought.
Yet others rapt in pleasure seem,
And taste of all that I forsake;
And ne'er, at least like me awakel
Through many a clime 'tis mine to go,
With many a retrospection curst; And all my solace is to know,
Whaté'er betides, I've known the worst.
What is that worst ? Nay do not ask
In pity from the search forbear : Smile on--nor venture to unmask
Man's heart, and view the Hell that's there.
Here all were noble, save Nobility;
Her vassals combat when their chieftains flee, .. e True to the veriest of Treachery :
Fond of a land which gave them nought but life,
Back to the struggle, baffled in the strife, ,
From flashing scymitar to secret knife,
So may he make each curst oppressor bleed, .
LXXXVIII. Flows there a tear of pity for the dead ! Look o’or the ravage of the reeking plain; Look on the hands with female slaughter red; le Then to the dogs resign the unþuried slain, 16 Then to the vulture let each corse remain ; Albeit unworthy of the prey-bird's maw, Let their bleached bones, and blood's unbleaching stain,
Long mark the battle-field with hideons awe:
Repairs the wrongs that Quito's sons sustained,
' Have won for Spain her well asserted right. ;. When shall her Olive-Branch be free from blight ? When shall she breathe her from the blushing toil ? How many a doubtful day shall sink in night,
Ere the Frank robber turn him from his spoil, And Freedom's stranger-tree grow native of the soil !
XCI. And thou, my friend ! 19— since unavailing woe Bursts from my heart, and mingles with the strain Had the sword laid thee with the mighty low, Pride miglit forbid ev'n Friendship to complain: But thus unlaureled to descend in vain, By all forgotten, save the lonely breast , And mix unbleeding with the boasted sliin,
While Glory crowns so many a mèaner crest! What hadst thou done to sink so peacefully to rest ?
XCII. Oh, known the earliest, and esteemed the most! Dear to a heart where nought was left so dear ! Though to my hopeless days for ever lost, In dreams deny me not to see thee here ! And morn in secret shall renew the tear
of consciousness awaking to her woes, And Fancy hover o'er thy bloodless bier,
Till my frail frame return to whence it rose, And mourned and mourner lie, united in repose.
Here is one fytle of Harold's pilgrimage:
Lands that contain the monuments of Eld,
END OF CANTO I,