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tion, as was always found to be necessary where a priest had any influence with the Cogia Bashi of his village. Indeed a more abandoned race of miscreants cannot exist than the lower orders of the Greek clergy.

When preparations were made for my return, my Albanians were summoned to receive their pay. Basili took his with an awkward show of regret at my intended departure, and marched away to his quarters with his bag of piastres. I sent for Dervish, but for some time he was not to be found; at last he entered, just as Signor Logotheti, father to the ci-devant Anglo-consul of Athens, and some other of my Greek acquaintances, paid me a visit. Dervish took the money, but on a sudden dashed it to the ground; and clasping his hands, which he raised to his forehead, rushed out of the room, weeping bitterly. From that moment to the hour of my embarkation, he continued his lamentations, and all our efforts to console him only produced this answer, "M' aquive," "He leaves me." Signor Logotheti, who never wept before for any thing less than the loss of a para,* melted; the padre of the convent, my attendants, my visitors—and I verily believe that even "Sterne's foolish fat scullion" would have left her "fish-kettle" to sympathize with the unaffected and unexpected sorrow of this barbarian.

For my own part, when I remembered that, a short time before my departure from England, a noble and most intimate associate had excused himself from taking leave of me, because he had to attend a relation "to a milliner's," I felt no less surprised than humiliated by the present occurrence and the past recollection.

That Dervish would leave me with some regret was to be expected: when master and man have been scrambling over the mountains of a dozen provinces together, they are unwilling to separate; but his present feelings, contrasted with his native ferocity, improved my opinion of the human heart. I believe this almost feudal fidelity is frequent amongst them. One day, on our journey over Parnassus, an Englishman in my service gave him a push in some dispute about the baggage, which he unluckily mistook for a blow; he spoke not, but sat down, leaning his head upon his hands. Foreseeing the consequences, we endeavoured to explain away the affront, which produced the following answer :-" I have been a robber, I am a soldier; no captain ever struck me; you are my master, I have eaten your bread; but by that bread! (a usual oath) had it been otherwise, I would have stabbed the dog your servant, and gone to the mountains." So the affair ended, but from that day forward he never thoroughly forgave the thoughtless fellow who insulted him.

Dervish excelled in the dance of his country, conjectured to be a remnant of the ancient Pyrrhic: be that as it may, it is manly, and requires wonderful agility. It is very distinct from the stupid Romaika, the dull round-about of the Greeks, of which our Athenian party had so many specimens.

The Albanians in general (I do not mean the cultivators of the earth in the provinces, who have also that appellation, but the mountaineers) have a fine cast of countenance; and the most beautiful women I ever beheld, in stature and in features, we saw levelling the road broken down by the torrents between Delvinachi and Libochabo. Their manner of walking is truly theatrical, but this strut is probably the effect of the capote, or cloak depending from one shoulder. Their long hair reminds you of the Spartans, and their courage in desultory warfare is unquestionable. Though they have some cavalry amongst the Gegdes, I never saw a good Arnaout horseman : my own preferred the English saddles, which, however, they could never keep. But on foot they are not to be subdued by fatigue. Note 12. Stanza xxxix.

-and passed the barren spot

Where sad Penelope o'erlook'd the wave.


Note 13. Stanza xl.

Actium, Lepanto, fatal Trafalgar.

Actium and Trafalgar need no further mention. The battle of Lepanto, equally

*Para, about the fourth of a farthing.

bloody and considerable, but less known, was fought in the gulf of Patras; here the author of Don Quixote lost his left hand.

Note 14. Stanza xli.

And hail'd the last resort of fruitless love.

Leucadia, now Santa Maura. From the promontory (the Lover's Leap) Sappho is said to have thrown herself.

Note 15. Stanza xlv.

-many a Roman chief and Asian king.

It is said that on the day previous to the battle of Actium, Anthony had thirteen kings at his levee.

Note 16. Stanza xlv.

Look where the second Cæsar's trophies rose!

Nicopolis, whose ruins are most extensive, is at some distance from Actium, where the wall of the Hippodrome survives in a few fragments.

Note 17. Stanza xlvii.

-Acherusia's lake.

According to Pouqueville, the Lake of Yanina; but Pouqueville is always out. Note 18. Stanza xlvii.

To greet Albania's chief.

The celebrated Ali Pacha. Of this extraordinary man there is an incorrect account in Pouqueville's Travels.

Note 19. Stanza xlvii.

Yet here and there some daring mountain band
Disdain his power, and from their rocky hold
Hur. their defiance far, nor yield, unless to gold.

Five thousand Suliotes, among the rocks and in the castle of Suli, withstood 30.000 Albanians for eighteen years; the castle at last was taken by bribery. In this contest there were several acts performed not unworthy of the better days of Greece.

Note 20. Stanza xlviii.

Monastic Zitza, &c.

The convent and village of Zitza are four hours' journey from Joannina, or Yanina, the capital of the pachalick. In the valley the river Kalamas (once the Acheron) flows, and, not far from Zitza, forms a fine cataract. The situation is perhaps the finest in Greece, though the approach to Delvinachi and parts of Acarnania and Ætolia may contest the palm. Delphi, Parnassus, and, in Attica, even Cape Colonna and Port Raphti, are very inferior; as also every scene in Ionia or the Troad: I am almost inclined to add the approach to Constantinople; but, from the different features of the last, a comparison can hardly be made.

Note 21. Stanza xlix.

Here dwells the caloyer.

The Greek monks are so called.

Note 22. Stanza li.

Nature's volcanic amphitheatre.

The Chimariot mountains appear to have been volcanic.

Note 23. Stanza li.

-behold black Acheron !

Now called Kalamas.

Note 24. Stanza lii.

in his white capote,

Albanese cloak.

Note 25. Stanza Iv.

The sun had sunk behind vast Tomerit.

Anciently Mount Tomarus.

Note 26. Stanza lv.

And Laos wide and fierce came roaring by.

The river Laos was full at the time the author passed it; and, immediately above Tepaleen, was to the eye as wide as the Thames at Westminster; at least in the opinion of the author and his fellow-traveller, Mr Hobhouse. In the summer it must be much narrower. It certainly is the finest river in the Levant: neither Acheloüs, Alpheus, Acheron, Scamander, nor Cayster, approached it in breadth or beauty.

Note 27. Stanza lxvi.

And fellow-countrymen have stood aloof,

Alluding to the wreckers of Cornwall.

Note 28. Stanza lxvi.

the red wine circling fast.

The Albanian Mussulmans do not abstain from wine, and indeed very few of the others.

Note 29. Stanza Ixxi.

Each Palikar his sabre from him cast,

Palikar, shortened when addressed to a single person, from Пaλıxdps, a general name for a soldier amongst the Greeks and Albanese who speak Romaicit means properly "a lad."

Note 30. Stanza Ixxii.

While thus in concert, &c.

As a specimen of the Albanian or Arnaout dialect of the Illyric, I here insert two of their most popular choral songs, which are generally chaunted in dancing by men or women indiscriminately. The first words are merely a kind of chorus, without meaning, like some in our own and all other languages.

Bo, Bo, Bo, Bo, Bo, Bo,

Naciarura, popuso.

Naciarura na civin
Ha pe uderini ti hin.


pe uderi escrotini
Ti vin ti mar servetini.
Caliriote me surme
Ea ha pe pse dua tive.
Buo, Bo, Bo, Bo, Bo,
Gi egem spirta esimiro.
Caliriote vu le funde
Ede vete tunde tunde.
Caliriote me surme
Ti mi put e poi mi le.
Se ti puta citi mora
Si mi ri ni veti udo gia.

Va le ni il che cadale
Celo more, more celo.

Plu hari ti tireti

Plu huron cia pra seti.

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embroidered hose.

The last stanza would puzzle a commentator: the men have certainly buskins

* The Albanese, particularly the women, are frequently termed "Caliriotes," for what reason I inquired in vain,

of the most beautiful texture, but the ladies (to whom the above is supposed to be addressed) have nothing under their little yellow boots and slippers but a wellturned and sometimes very white ancle. The Arnaout girls are much handsomer than the Greeks, and their dress is far more picturesque. They preserve their shape much longer also, from being always in the open air. It is to be observed that the Arnaout is not a written language; the words of this song, therefore, as well as the one which follows, are spelt according to their pronunciation. They are copied by one who speaks and understands the dialect perfectly, and who is a native of Athens.

Ndi sefda tinde ulavossa
Vettimi upri vi lofsa.

Ah vaisisso mi privi lofse
Si mi rini mi la vosse.

Uti tasa roba stua
Sitti eve tulati dua.
Roba stinori usidua
Qa mi sini vetti dua.
Qurmidi dua civileni
Roba ti siarmi tildi eni.

Utara pisa vaisisso me simi rin ti hapti
Eti mi bire a piste si gui dendroi tiltati.

Udi vura udorini udiri cicova cilti mora
Udorini talti hollna u ede caimona mora.

I am wounded by thy love, and have loved but to scorch myself.

Thou hast consumed me! Ah, maid! thou hast struck me to the heart.

I have said I wish no dowry but thine eyes and eyelashes.

The accursed dowry I want not, but thee only.

Give me thy charms, and let the portion feed the flames.

I have loved thee, maid, with a sincere soul, but thou hast left me like a withered tree.

If I have placed my hand on thy bosom, what have I gained? my hand is withdrawn, but retains the flame,


I believe the two last stanzas, as they are in a different measure, ought to belong to another ballad. An idea something similar to the thought in the last lines was expressed by Socrates, whose arm having come in contact with one of his "noXXI," Critobulus or Cleobulus, the philosopher complained of a shooting pain as far as his shoulder for some days after, and therefore very properly resolved to teach his disciples in future without touching them.

Note 31. Song, stanza 1.

Tambourgi! Tambourgi! thy 'larum afar, &c.

These stanzas are partly taken from different Albanese songs, as far as I was able to make them out by the exposition of the Albanese in Romaic and Italian.

Note 31. Song, stanza 8.

Remember the moment when Previsa fell.

It was taken by storm from the French.

Note 33. Stanza Ixxiii.

Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth, &c.

Some thoughts on this subject will be found in the subjoined papers.

Note 34. Stanza Ixxiv.

Spirit of freedom! when on Phyle's brow
Thou sat'st with Thrasybulus and his train.

Phyle, which commands a beautiful view of Athens, has still considerable remains: it was seized by Thrasybulus previous to the expulsion of the Thirty.

Note 35. Stanza Ixxvii.

Receive the fiery Frank, her former guest.

When taken by the Latins and retained for several years.-See Gibbon.

Note 36. Stanza Ixxvii

The prophet's tomb of all its pious spoil.

Mecca and Medina were taken some time ago by the Wahabees, a sect yearly increasing.

Note 37. Stanza lxxxv,

Thy vales of ever-green, thy hills of snow

On many of the mountains, particularly Liakura, the snow never is entirely melted, notwithstanding the intense heat of the summer; but I never saw it lie on the plains, even in winter.

Note 38. Stanza lxxxvi.

Save where some solitary column mourns
Above its prostrate brethren of the cave.

Of Mount Pentelicus, from whence the marble was dug that constructed the public edifices of Athens. The modern name is Mount Mendeli. An immense cave formed by the quarries still remains, and will till the end of time.

Note 39. Stanza lxxxix.

When Marathon became a magic word

"Siste, viator-heroa calcas!" was the epitaph on the famous Count Merci;what then must be our feelings when standing on the tumulus of the two hundred (Greeks) who fell on Marathon? The principal barrow has recently been opened by Fauvel; few or no relics, as vases, &c., were found by the excavator. The plain of Marathon was offered to me for sale at the sum of sixteen thousand piastres, about nine hundred pounds! Alas!-"Expende-quot libras in duce summoinvenies?"—was the dust of Miltiades worth no more? it could scarcely have fetched less if sold by weight.



Before I say any thing about a city of which every body, traveller or not, has thought it necessary to say something, I will request Miss Owenson, when she next borrows an Athenian heroine for her four volumes, to have the goodness to marry her to somebody more of a gentleman than a "Disdar Aga" (who by the by is not an Aga), the most impolite of petty officers, the greatest patron of larceny Athens ever saw (except Lord E.), and the unworthy occupant of the Acropolis, on a handsome annual stipend of 150 piastres (eight pounds sterling), out of which he has only to pay his garrison, the most ill-regulated corps in the ill-regulated Ottoman empire. I speak it tenderly, seeing I was once the cause of the husband of "Ida of Athens" nearly suffering the bastinado; and because the said "Disdar" is a turbulent husband, and beats his wife, so that I exhort and beseech Miss Owenson to sue for a separate maintenance in behalf of "Ida." Having premised thus much, on a matter of such import to the readers of romances, I may now leave Ida, to mention her birth-place.

Setting aside the magic of the name, and all those associations which it would be pedantic and superfluous to recapitulate, the very situation of Athens would render it the favourite of all who have eyes for art or nature. The climate, to me at least, appeared a perpetual spring; during eight months I never passed a day without being as many hours on horseback; rain is extremely rare, snow never lies in the plains, and a cloudy day is an agreeable rarity. In Spain, Portugal, and every part of the East which I visited, except Ionia and Attica, I perceived no such superiority of climate to our own; and at Constantinople, where I passed May, June, and part of July (1810), you might "damn the climate, and complain of spleen" five days out of seven.


The air of the Morea is heavy and unwholesome, but the moment you pass the isthmus in the direction of Megara, the change is strikingly perceptible. But I fear Hesiod will still be found correct in his description of a Boeotian winter. We found at Livadia an esprit fort" in a Greek bishop, of all free-thinkers! This worthy hypocrite rallied his own religion with great intrepidity (but not before his flock), and talked of a mass as a "coglioneria." It was impossible to think better of him for this: but, for a Boeotian he was brisk with all his absur

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