Childe Harold's pilgrimage, a romaunt . even can Fancys eyeRestore what Time hath labored to these proud pillars claim no passing the Moslem sits, the light Greek carols by. XI. But who, of all the plunderers of yon faneOn high, where Pallas lingered, loth to fleeThe latest relic of her ancient reign;The last, the worst, dull spoiler, who was he ?Blush, Caledonia! such thy son could be!England! I joy no child he was of free-born men should spare what once was free;Yet they could violate each saddening bear these altars oer the long-reluctant brine.
Childe Harold's pilgrimage, a romaunt . even can Fancys eyeRestore what Time hath labored to these proud pillars claim no passing the Moslem sits, the light Greek carols by. XI. But who, of all the plunderers of yon faneOn high, where Pallas lingered, loth to fleeThe latest relic of her ancient reign;The last, the worst, dull spoiler, who was he ?Blush, Caledonia! such thy son could be!England! I joy no child he was of free-born men should spare what once was free;Yet they could violate each saddening bear these altars oer the long-reluctant brine. XII. But most the modern Picts ignoble rive what Goth, and Turk, and Time hath spared:Cold as the crags upon his native coast,His mind as barren and his heart as he Avhose head conceived, whose hand prepared,Aught to displace Athenas poor remains:Her sons too weak the sacred shrine to guard,Yet felt some portion of their mothers pains,And never knew, till then, the weight of Despots chains. 11 CHILDE HAROLDS CANTO XIII. What! shall it eer be said by British tongue,Albion was happy in Athenas tears ?Though in thy name the slaves her bosom wrung,Tell not the deed to blushing Europes ears;The ocean queen, the free Britannia bearsThe last poor plunder from a bleeding land:Yes, she whose generous aid her name endears,Tore down those remnants with a harpys envious Eld forbore, and tyrants left to stand. XIV. Where was thine -^gis, Pallas! that appalled Stern Alaric and Havoc on their way ? Where Peleus son ? wliom Hell in vain enthralled, CANTO II. PILGRIMAGE. , 73 His shade from Hades upon that dread day,Bursting to light in terrible array !What! could not Pluto spare the chief once more,To scare a second robber from his prey ?Idly he wandered on the Stygian shore,Nor now preserved the walls he loved to shield before. XV. Cold is the heart, fair Greece! that looks on feels as lovers oer the dust they loved;Dull is the eye that will not weep
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