Childe Harold's pilgrimage, a romaunt . tched-up idol of enlightened days ?Shall wc, who struck the Lion down, shall wePay the Wolf homage ? proffering lowly gazeAnd servile knees to thrones ? No ; prove before ye praise ! XX. If not, oer one fallen despot boast no more !In vain fair cheeks were furrowed with hot tearsFor Europes flowers long rooted up beforeThe tramplcr of her vineyards; in vain yearsOf death, depopulation, bondage, fears,Have all been borne, and broken by the accordOf roused-up millions : all that most endearsGlory, is when the myrtle wreathes a swordSuch as Harmodius drew o
Childe Harold's pilgrimage, a romaunt . tched-up idol of enlightened days ?Shall wc, who struck the Lion down, shall wePay the Wolf homage ? proffering lowly gazeAnd servile knees to thrones ? No ; prove before ye praise ! XX. If not, oer one fallen despot boast no more !In vain fair cheeks were furrowed with hot tearsFor Europes flowers long rooted up beforeThe tramplcr of her vineyards; in vain yearsOf death, depopulation, bondage, fears,Have all been borne, and broken by the accordOf roused-up millions : all that most endearsGlory, is when the myrtle wreathes a swordSuch as Harmodius drew on Athens tyrant lord. XXI. /IThere was a sound of revelry by night,And Belgiums capital had gathered thenHer Beauty and her Cliivalry, and brightThe lamps shone oer fair women and brave men;A thousand hearts beat happily; and whenMusic arose with its voluptuous swell,Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again,And all went merry as a marriage-bell;But hush! hark ! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell! CANTO III. PILGRIMAGE. 121. XXII. Did ye not hear it ? — Xo ; t \vas but the wind,Or the car rattling oer the stony street;On with tlie dance! let joy be unconfined;No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meetTo chase the glowing Hours with flying feet —But, hark! — that heavy sound breaks in mice more,As if the clouds its echo would repeat;And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before!Arm ! arm! it is — it is — the^cannons opening roar! xxiir. Within a windowed niche of that hio-h hallSate Brunswicks fated chieftain; he did hear 122 CHILDE HAROLDS canto hi. That sound the first amidst the festival,And caught its tone with Deaths prophetic ear;And wlien they smiled because he deemed it near,His heart more truly knew that peal too wellWhich stretched his father on a bloody roused the vengeance blood alone could quell:He rushed into the field, and, foremost fighting, fell. XXIV Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro,And gathering tears, and tremblings
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