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For ere night's midmost, stillest hour was past, Each palikar his sabre from him cast, Yelling their uncouth dirge, long danced the kirtled clan. LXXII. Childe Harold at a little distance stood, Nor hated harmless mirth, however rude: Their barbarous, yet their not indecent, glee: Their gestures nimble, dark eyes flashing free, While thus in concert they this lay half sang, half screamed: Gives hope to the valiant, and promise of war.html">war; Chimariot, Illyrian, and dark Suliote! Oh! who is more brave than a dark Suliote, To the wolf and the vulture he leaves his wild flock, The fault of a friend, bid an enemy live? What mark is so fair as the breast of a foe? Macedonia sends forth her invincible race; But those scarves of blood.html">blood-red shall be redder, before And teach the pale Franks what it is to be slaves, And track to his covert the captive on shore. I ask not the pleasure that riches supply, Shall win the young bride with her long flowing hair, Her caresses shall lull me, her music shall soothe: And sing us a song on the fall of her sire. Remember the moment when Previsa fell, The roofs that we fired, and the plunder we shared, He neither must know who would serve the Vizier; A chief ever glorious like Ali Pasha. Dark Muchtar his son to the Danube is sped, When his Delhis come dashing in blood o'er the banks, Tambourgi! thy larum gives promise of war. Shall view us as victors, or view us no more! LXXIII. Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth! Who now shall lead thy scattered children forth, .

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