Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 2.djvu/165

CANTO II.] 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,

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,N22

Chimæra'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!N23

Once consecrated to the sepulchre.

Pluto! if this be Hell I look upon,

Close shamed Elysium's gates, my shade shall seek for none.