e 11] and ourselves in a bad
neighbourhood. Dervish became a soothsayer for life, and I dare say is
now hearing more musketry than ever will be fired, to the great
refreshment of the Arnaouts of Berat, and his native mountains.--I shall
mention one trait more of this singular race. In March, 1811, a
remarkably stout and active Arnaout came (I believe the fiftieth on the
same errand) to offer himself as an attendant, which was declined.
"Well, Affendi," quoth he, "may you live!--you would have found me
useful. I shall leave the town for the hills to-morrow; in the winter I
return, perhaps you will then receive me."--Dervish, who was present,
remarked as a thing of course, and of no consequence, "in the mean time
he will join the Klephtes" (robbers), which was true to the letter. If
not cut off, they come down in the winter, and pass it unmolested in
some town, where they are often as well known as their exploits.

[118] {135} [_Vide ante_, p. 90, line 89, note 2, "In death from a stab
the countenance preserves its traits of feeling or ferocity."]

[ee]
_Her power to soothe--her skill to save--_
_And doubly darken o'er the grave,_--[MS.]

[ef] {136}
_Of Ladye-love--and dart--and chain--_
_And fire that raged in every vein_.--[MS.]

[eg]
_Even now alone, yet undismayed,--_
_I know no friend, and ask no aid_.--[MS.]

[119] [Lines 1127-1130 were inserted in the Seventh Edition. They recall
the first line of Plato's epitaph [Greek: A)ste\r prin me\n e)/lampes
e)ni zooi~sin e(o~|os] which Byron prefixed to his "Epitaph on a Beloved
Friend" (_Poetical Works_, 1898, i. 18), and which, long afterwards,
Shelley chose as the motto to his _Adonais_.]

[eh] {137}
_Yes_ \ / _doth spring_ \
} _Love indeed_ { _descend_ } _from heaven:_
_If_ / \ _be born_ /

/ _immortal_ \
_A spark of that_ { _eternal_ } _fire_
\ _celestial_ /
_To human hearts in mercy given,_
_To lift from earth our low desire,_
_A feeling from the Godhead caught,_
/ _each_ \
_To wean from self_ { } _sordid thought:_
\ _our_ /
_Devotion sends the soul above,_
_But Heaven itself descends to love,_
_Yet marvel not, if they who love_
_This present joy, this future hope_
_Which taught them with all ill to cope,_