Though here awhile he learned to moralize,
For Meditation fixed at times on him;

1

And conscious Reason whispered to despise
His early youth, misspent in maddest whim;
But as he gazed on truth his aching eyes grew dim.

XXVIII

To horse! to horse! he quits, for ever quits
A scene of peace, though soothing to his soul:
Again he rouses from his moping 2 fits,
But seeks not now the harlot and the bowl.
Onward he flies, nor fixed as yet the goal
Where he shall rest him on his pilgrimage;
And o'er him many changing scenes must roll
Ere toil his thirst for travel can assuage,

Or he shall calm his breast, or learn experience sage.

XXIX

Yet Mafra3 shall one moment claim delay,
Where dwelt of yore the Lusians' luckless queen ; 4
And church and court did mingle their array,
And mass and revel were alternate seen ;
Lordlings and freres 5-ill-sorted fry I ween!
But here the Babylonian whore hath built

6

A dome, where flaunts she in such glorious sheen, That men forget the blood which she hath spilt, And bow the knee to Pomp that loves to varnish guilt.

XXX

O'er vales that teem with fruits, romantic hills,
(Oh, that such hills upheld a freeborn race!)
Whereon to gaze the eye with joyaunce fills,
Childe Harold wends through many a pleasant place.

7

1 To despise.] A Latin construction-ut contemneret.

2 Moping.] Conf. Gray's 'Elegy '—the moping owl'—moping equivalent to ignavus.

5 Mafra.] A convent palace, built by John V. of Portugal. 4 Luckless queen.] The idiot mother of the Prince Regent of Portugal, who abandoned his country for Brazil.

5 Freres.] Friars, fratres.

6 Babylonian whore.] Expression from the Book of the Reveation, and applied by Byron to the Church of Rome.

7 Joyaunce is pleasure, while pleasaunce' is a place of pleasure.

Though sluggards deem it but a foolish chase,
And marvel men should quit their easy chair,
The toilsome way, and long, long league to trace,
Oh! there is sweetness in the mountain air,
And life, that bloated Ease can never hope to share.

XXXI

More bleak to view the hills at length recede,
And, less luxuriant, smoother vales extend;
Immense horizon-bounded plains succeed!
Far as the eye discerns, withouten 1 end,
Spain's realms appear whereon her shepherds tend
Flocks, whose rich fleece right well the trader knows-
Now must the pastor's arm his lambs defend :

3

For Spain is compassed by unyielding foes,

And all must shield their all, or share Subjection's woes.

XXXII

Where Lusitania and her Sister meet,

Deem ye what bounds the rival realms divide ?
Or ere the jealous queens of nations greet,
Doth Tayo interpose his mighty tide?
Or dark Sierras rise in craggy pride?

Or fence of art, like China's vasty wall? 4—
Ne barrier wall, ne river deep and wide,

6

Ne horrid crags, nor mountains dark and tall,

Rise like the rocks that part Hispania's land from Gaul :

XXXIII

But these between a silver streamlet glides,
And scarce a name distinguisheth the brook,
Though rival kingdoms press its verdant sides.
Here leans the idle shepherd on his crook,
And vacant on the rippling waves doth look,

1 Withouten.] Glossary.

2 Rich fleece. The celebrated merino flocks, which have been introduced into Australia.

3 For Spain is compassed.] Still harried by the French troops. 4 Vasty wall.] Conf. Shakspeare's 'vasty deep.' Cf. 'steepy and laky' in the Lay of the Last Minstrel.'

5 Ne.] See Stanza ii.

Horrid crags.] See Stanza xix,

That peaceful still 'twixt bitterest foemen flow;
For proud each peasant as the noblest duke :
Well doth the Spanish hind the difference know
"Twixt him and Lusian slave, the lowest of the low.

XXXIV

But ere the mingling bounds have far been passed,
Dark Guadiana rolls his power along

1

In sullen billows, murmuring and vast,
So noted ancient roundelays among.
Whilome upon his banks did legions throng
Of Moor and Knight, in mailed splendour drest:
Here ceased the swift their race, here sunk the strong;
The Paynim turban and the Christian crest

Mixed on the bleeding stream, by floating hosts oppressed.

XXXV

Oh, lovely Spain! renowned romantic land! Where is that standard which Pelagio 3 bore, When Cava's traitor-sire 4 first called the band That dyed thy mountain-streams with Gothic gore? Where are those bloody banners which of yore Waved o'er thy sons, victorious to the gale, And drove at last the spoilers to their shore? Red gleamed the cross, and waned the crescent pale, While Afric's echoes thrilled with Moorish matrons' wail.

XXXVI

Teems not each ditty with the glorious tale?
Ah! such, alas! the hero's amplest fate!

1 Guadiana.] From the root wadi or ouadi, Arabic name for river, and carries with it the story of the Moorish occupation of the Spanish territory. Conf. Guadalquivir, and for the interchange of où or w conf. Walter and Gautier, Vadum or Wadum, French gué. 2 Roundelays.] See the French 'rondelet.'

3 Pelagio.] King of Asturias, founded Oviedo, and defeated the Moors at Caradonga, A.D. 718. See Byron's 'Age of Bronze,' ' one Pelagio.'

4 Cava's traitor-sire.] Caba or Cava, the Moorish name for Florinda, daughter of Count Julian of Andalusia, who, to revenge himself on Roderick, the last king of the Visigoths, who had carried off Cava, the Helen of Spain, invited the Moors from Africa. For the story see Scott's Vision of Don Roderick,' written 1811; and Southey's Roderick,' written in 1814; also see Washington Irving's 'Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada,'

When granite moulders and when records fail,
A peasant's plaint prolongs his dubious date.
Pride! bend thine eye from heaven to thine estate,
See how the Mighty shrink into a song!

Can Volume, Pillar, Pile preserve thee great?

Or must thou trust Tradition's simple tongue, When Flattery sleeps with thee, and History does thee wrong?

XXXVII

Awake, ye sons of Spain! awake! advance!
Lo! Chivalry, your ancient goddess, cries,
But wields not, as of old, her thirsty lance,
Nor shakes her crimson plumage in the skies:
Now on the smoke of blazing bolts she flies,
And speaks in thunder through yon engine's roar :
In every peal she calls-' Awake! arise!'

Say, is her voice more feeble than of yore,
When her war-song was heard on Andalusia's shore?

XXXVIII

Hark! heard you not those hoofs of dreadful note?
Sounds not the clang of conflict on the heath?
Saw ye not whom the reeking sabre smote,
Nor saved your brethren ere they sank beneath
Tyrants and tyrants' slaves ?—the fires of death,
The bale-fires flash on high :-from rock to rock
Each volley tells that thousands cease to breathe ;
Death rides upon the sulphury Siroc,1

Red Battle stamps his foot, and nations feel the shock.

XXXIX

Lo! where the Giant on the mountain stands,2
His blood-red tresses deep'ning in the sun,
With death-shot glowing in his fiery hands,
And eye that scorcheth all it glares upon;
Restless it rolls, now fixed, and now anon

1 Siroc.] The hot wind, Italian scirocco, from Arabic charquí, 'eastern.' East wind.

2 The battle of Talavera on the Tagus in New Castile, 1809. The Spaniards under Cuesta, the English under Wellesley, the French under Marshal Victor,

Flashing afar,-and at his iron feet

Destruction cowers, to mark what deeds are done;
For on this morn three potent nations meet,

To shed before his shrine the blood he deems most sweet.

XL

By Heaven! it is a splendid sight to see
(For one who hath no friend, no brother there)
Their rival scarfs of mixed embroidery,

Their various arms that glitter in the air!

What gallant war-hounds rouse them from their lair, And gnash their fangs, loud yelling for the prey! All join the chase, but few the triumph share; The Grave shall bear the chiefest prize away, And Havoc scarce for joy can number their array.

XLI

Three hosts combine to offer sacrifice;

Three tongues prefer strange orisons on high;
Three gaudy standards flout the pale blue skies;
The shouts are France, Spain, Albion, Victory!
The foe, the victim, and the fond ally
That fights for all, but ever fights in vain,1
Are met—as if at home they could not die—
To feed the crow on Talavera's plain,

And fertilize the field that each pretends to gain.

XLII

There shall they rot-Ambition's honoured fools!
Yes, Honour decks the turf that wraps their clay!
Vain Sophistry! in these behold the tools,
The broken tools, that tyrants cast away

By myriads, when they dare to pave their way
With human hearts-to what?-a dream alone.

2

Can despots compass aught that hails their sway? Or call with truth one span of earth their own, Save that wherein at last they crumble bone by bone?

1 Ever fights in vain.] Of this victory Sir A. Wellesley writes to a friend: The victory which we gained at Talavera, although from circumstances it has not been followed by all the good consequences which we might have expected, has at least added to the military reputation of the country.'

2 Despots.] An allusion to Napoleon. These allusions are scattered in great numbers over the first and second cantos. See 'Age of Bronze.'