Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Spain, Portugal, Belgium, and Holland: Vols. XIV–XV. 1876–79. | | | | Spain: Seville | | Seville | | Lord Byron (1788–1824) |
| | (From Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage)
FULL swiftly Harold wends his lonely way | |
| Where proud Sevilla triumphs unsubdued: | |
| Yet is she free,—the spoiler’s wished-for prey! | |
| Soon, soon shall Conquest’s fiery foot intrude, | |
| Blackening her lovely domes with traces rude. | 5 |
| Inevitable hour! ’Gainst fate to strive | |
| Where Desolation plants her famished brood | |
| Is vain, or Ilion, Tyre, might yet survive, | |
| And virtue vanquish all, and murder cease to thrive. | |
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| But all unconscious of the coming doom, | 10 |
| The feast, the song, the revel here abounds; | |
| Strange modes of merriment the hours consume, | |
| Nor bleed these patriots with their country’s wounds: | |
| Nor here War’s clarion, but Love’s rebeck sounds; | |
| Here Folly still his votaries inthralls; | 15 |
| And young-eyed Lewdness walks her midnight rounds: | |
| Girt with the silent crimes of capitals, | |
| Still to the last kind Vice clings to the tottering walls. | |
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| Not so the rustic,—with his trembling mate | |
| He lurks, nor casts his heavy eye afar, | 20 |
| Lest he should view his vineyard desolate, | |
| Blasted below the dun hot breath of war. | |
| No more beneath soft eve’s consenting star | |
| Fandango twirls his jocund castanet: | |
| Ah, monarchs! could ye taste the mirth ye mar, | 25 |
| Not in the toils of glory would ye fret; | |
| The hoarse dull drum would sleep, and man be happy yet! | | | | |
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