Here follow some highly wrought stanzas on the beauty of the Spanish women; in the midst of which there occurs a fine apostrophe to Mount Parnassus. During the remainder of the first canto, Harold is in Cadiz, a city for various reasons not likely to decrease the interest of the poem. The dissipation of the place, and a bull-fight furnish the chief topics. The bull-fight is exquisitely painted. Towards the conclusion, there is a mournful stanza on the state of Spain, which, for the harmony of the verse, and for the sympathy excited by every line, deserves particular attention : XC. Not all the blood at Talavera shed, Not all the marvels of Barossa's fight, Have won for Spain her well asserted right. When shall her Olive Branch be free from blight? And Freedom's stranger tree grow native of the soil! The scenes of the second canto are, at sea; they shift to Albania, the territory of Ali Pacha's government; and to Greece. It opens with an invocation to Minerva, and after a few stanzas, relative to a diversity of religion tending to scepticism,-and therefore not to be distinguished by our commendation,-the poet, viewing the ruins of Athens, is inflamed with anger against the plunderers, the peaceful, not the warlike plunderers, of Greece; concluding the burst of his indignation thus: XV. Cold is the heart, fair Greece! that looks on thee, Dull is the eye that will not weep to see Thy walls defac'd, thy mouldering shrines remov'd To guard those relics ne'er to be restor❜d. Curst be the hour when from their isle they rov'd, And once again thy hapless bosom gor'd, And snatch'd thy shrinking Gods to northern climes abhorr'd! This opening is written in the character of the poet himself, under the fervour of excited feelings, while contemplating this favourite classical spot. He now returns to Harold, who has left Spain. The images presented to the mind from sailing out of harbour with a convoy are well painted; as it is the interior of a ship of war at sea, and the lagging of the dull sailors under her protection. The moon-light scene in the passage through the Straits, with the reflections it suggests, the arrival at Calypso's Island, the new Calypso Harold finds there, and the invulnerable state of his heart, afford subjects for stanzas sweetly harmonious. The following may be taken as a specimen :— XXIV. Thus bending o'er the vessel's laving side, A thought, and claims the homage of a tear; XXV. To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, Where things that own not man's dominion dwell, Converse with Nature's charms, and see her stores unroll'd. XXVI. But 'midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men, And roam along, the world's tir'd denizen, With none who bless us, none whom we can bless; This is to be alone; this, this is solitude! Also one stanza from those that contain reflections at Calypso's island: XXX. Thus Harold deem'd, as on that lady's eye Who knew his votary often lost and caught, Harold passes by Ithaca, the promontory of Leucadia, and Actium: he travels through a great part of Continental Greece to visit the Albanian Chief (Ali Pacha): these are described, together with the feelings they excite, and the reflections they give birth to. The palace of the Pacha at Ioanina is magnificently drawn: we have seldom seen so masterly a picture, and though of considerable length, we shall present it to our readers: LIV. The sun had sunk behind vast Tomerit,* Whose walls o'erlook the stream: and drawing nigh, Swelling the breeze that sigh'd along the lengthening glen. LV. He pass'd the sacred Haram's silent tower, Slaves, eunuchs, soldiers, guests, and santons wait; Here men of every clime, appear to make resort. LVI. Richly caparison'd, a ready row Of armed horse, and many a warlike store The Turk, the Greek, the Albanian, and the Moor While the deep war-drum's sound announc'd the close of day. LVII. The wild Albanian kirtled to his knee, With shawl-girt head and ornamented gun, * Anciently Mount Tomarus. The Delhi with his cap of terror on, And crooked glaive; the lively, supple Greek, The bearded Turks that rarely deigns to speak, LVIII. Are mix'd conspicuous: some recline in groups, There is no god but God!-to prayer-lo! God is great!" LIX. Just at this season Ramazani's fast Through the long day its penance did maintain: LX. Here woman's voice is never heard: apart, Herself more sweetly rears the babe she bears Who never quits the breast, no meaner passion shares LXI. In marble-pav'd pavilion, where a spring Of living water from the centre rose, Whose bubbling did a genial freshness Aling, And soft voluptuous couches breath'd repose, ALI reclined, a man of war and woes; Yet in his lineaments ye cannot trace, While Gentleness her milder radiance throws Along that aged venerable face, The deeds that lurk beneath, and stain him with disgrace. Love conquers age-so Hafiz hath averr'd, In years, that marked him with a tyger's tooth; The character of the Albanians is given with great energy, in the succeeding stanzas: we extract the first of them: LXIV. Fierce are Albania's children, yet they lack Unshaken rushing on where'er their chief may lead. Harold terminates his stay among the Albanians at a feast, and with a characteristic effusion, which the author informs us was composed by him from different Albanese songs. SONG. Tambourgi!* Tambourgi! thy 'larum afar 2. Oh! who is more brave than a dark Suliote, In his snowy camese and his shaggy capote? To the wolf and the vulture he leaves his wild flock, 3. Shall the sons of Chimari, who never forgive The fault of a friend bid an enemy live? Let those guns so unerring such vengeance forego? 4. Macedonia sends forth her invincible race; For a time they abandon the cave and the chase; 5 Then the pirates of Parga that dwell by the waves, |