Is lawless law; for with a bloody hand Yet here and there some daring mountain-band XLVIII. Monastic Zitza!** from thy shady brow, Between those hanging rocks, that shock yet please the soul. XLIX. tufted hill, Amidst the grove that crowns yon From hence, if he delight kind Nature's sheen to see. * Five thousand Suliotes, among the rocks and in the castle of Suli, withstood thirty thousand 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. ** 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. **The Greek monks are so called. L. Here in the sultriest season let him rest, LI. Dusky and huge, enlarging on the sight, Chimæra's alps extend from left to right: Beneath, a living valley seems to stir; Flocks play, trees wave, streams flow, the mountain fir Nodding above; behold black Acheron!** Once consecrated to the sepulchre. Pluto! if this be hell I look upon, Close shamed Elysium's gates, my shade shall seek for none. LII. Ne city's towers pollute the lovely view; Veil'd by the screen of hills: here men are few, LIII. Oh! where, Dodona! is thine aged grove, What valley echo'd the response of Jove? What trace remaineth of the Thunderer's shrine? * The Chimariot mountains appear to have been volcanic, All, all forgotten and shall man repine That his frail bonds to fleeting life are broke? Cease, fool! the fate of gods may well be thine: Wouldst thou survive the marble or the oak? [stroke! When nations, tongues, and worlds must sink beneath the LIV. Epirus' bounds recede, and mountains fail; Tired of up-gazing still, the wearied eye Or with the moonbeam sleep in midnight's solemn trance. LV. The sun had sunk behind vast Tomerit, * And Laos wide and fierce came roaring by ;** Whose walls o'erlook the stream; and drawing nigh, Swelling the breeze that sigh'd along the lengthening glen. LVI. He pass'd the sacred Haram's silent tower, * Anciently Mount Tomarus. ** 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. In the summer it must be much narrower. It certainly is the finest river in the Levant; neither Achelous, Alpheus, Acheron, Scamander, nor Cayster, approached it in breadth or beauty. Amidst no common pomp the despot sate, Slaves, eunuchs, soldiers, guests, and santons wait; LVII. Richly caparison'd, a ready row Of armed horse, and many a warlike store, While the deep war-drum's sound announced the close of day. LVIII. The wild Albanian kirtled to his knee, With shawl-girt head and ornamented gun, And crooked glaive; the lively, supple Greek; The bearded Turk, that rarely deigns to speak, LIX. Are mix'd conspicuous: some recline in groups, "There is no god but God! - to prayer lo! God is great!" LX. Just at this season Ramazani's fast Through the long day its penance did maintain: LXI. Here woman's voice is never heard: apart, Herself more sweetly rears the babe she bears, 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, While Gentleness her milder radiance throws Along that aged venerable face, The deeds that lurk beneath, and stain him with disgrace. LXIII. It is not that yon hoary lengthening beard |