Childe Harold's pilgrimage : a romaunt . e of lives, and barter breath for fame :Fame that will scarce reanimate their clay,Though thousands Ml to deck some single sooth t were sad to thwart their noble aimWho strike, blest hirelings ! fur their countrys good,And die, that living might have proved her shame ;Perishd, perchance, in some domestic feud,Or in a narrower sphere wild Rapines path pursued. XLV. Full swiftly Harold wends his lonely wayWhere proud Sevilla triumphs unsubdued :Yet is she free—the spoilers wishd-for prey !Soon, soon shall Conquests hery foot intrude, • :Blackening
Childe Harold's pilgrimage : a romaunt . e of lives, and barter breath for fame :Fame that will scarce reanimate their clay,Though thousands Ml to deck some single sooth t were sad to thwart their noble aimWho strike, blest hirelings ! fur their countrys good,And die, that living might have proved her shame ;Perishd, perchance, in some domestic feud,Or in a narrower sphere wild Rapines path pursued. XLV. Full swiftly Harold wends his lonely wayWhere proud Sevilla triumphs unsubdued :Yet is she free—the spoilers wishd-for prey !Soon, soon shall Conquests hery foot intrude, • :Blackening her lovely domes with traces hour ! Gainst fate to striveWhere Desolation plants her famishd broodIs vain, or Ilion, Tyre might yet survive,And Virtue vanquish all, and Murder cease to thrive, XLVI. But all unconscious of the coming doom,The feast, the song, the revel here abounds ;Strange modes of merriment the hours consume,.Nor bleed these patriots with their countrys wounds ; G childe harolds pilgrimage CANTO SEVILLE Nor here Wars clarion, but Loves rebeck sounds;Here Folly still his votaries inthralls;And young-eyed Lewdness walks her midnight rounds ;Girt with the silent crimes of Capitals,Still to the last kind Vice clings to the tottring walls. CANTO I. childe harolds pilgrimage 43 XLVIT. Not so the rustic—with, his trembling mateHe lurks, nor casts his heavy eye afar,Lest he should view his vineyard desolate,Blasted below the dun hot breath of more beneath soft Eves consenting starFandango twirls his jocund Castanet :Ah, monarchs ! could ye taste the mirth ye mar,Not in the toils of Glory would ye fret;The hoarse dull drum would sleep, and Man be happy yet! XLV1II. How carols now the lusty muleteer %Of love, romance, devotion is his lay,As whilome lie was wont the leagues to cheer,His quick bells wildly jingling on the way 1No ! as he speeds, he chants Viva el Rey !And checks his song to execrate Godoy,The royal wittol Charles, and cur
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