he caloyer, nor rude is he,[21.B.]
Nor niggard of his cheer;[150] the passer by
Is welcome still; nor heedless will he flee
From hence, if he delight kind Nature's sheen to see.

L.

Here in the sultriest season let him rest,
Fresh is the green beneath those aged trees;
Here winds of gentlest wing will fan his breast,[fa]
From Heaven itself he may inhale the breeze:
The plain is far beneath--oh! let him seize
Pure pleasure while he can; the scorching ray
Here pierceth not, impregnate with disease:
Then let his length the loitering pilgrim lay,
And gaze, untired, the Morn--the Noon--the Eve away.

LI.

Dusky and huge, enlarging on the sight,
Nature's volcanic Amphitheatre,[22.B.]
Chimaera's Alps extend from left to right:
Beneath, a living valley seems to stir;
Flocks play, trees wave, streams flow, the mountain-fir
Nodding above; behold black Acheron![23.B.]
Once consecrated to the sepulchre.
Pluto! if this be Hell I look upon,
Close shamed Elysium's gates, my shade shall seek for none[fb].

LII.

Ne city's towers pollute the lovely view;
Unseen is Yanina, though not remote,
Veiled by the screen of hills: here men are few,
Scanty the hamlet, rare the lonely cot:
But, peering down each precipice, the goat[fc]
Browseth; and, pensive o'er his scattered flock,
The little shepherd in his white capote[24.B.]
Doth lean his boyish form along the rock,
Or in his cave awaits the Tempest's short-lived shock.[fd]

LIII.

Oh! where, Dodona![151] is thine aged Grove,
Prophetic Fount, and Oracle divine?
What valley echoed the response of Jove?
What trace remaineth of the Thunderer's shrine?
All, all forgotten--and shall Man repine
That his frail bonds to fleeting life are broke?[152]
Cease, Fool! the fate of Gods may well be thine:
Wouldst thou survive the marble or the oak?
When nations, tongues, and worlds must sink beneath the stroke!

LIV.

Epirus' bounds recede, and mountains fail;[153]
Tired of up-gazing still, the wearied eye
Reposes gladly on as smooth a vale
As ever Spring yclad in grassy dye:[154]
Ev'n on a plain no