Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 2.djvu/178

144 How brown the foliage of the green hill's grove,

Nodding at midnight o'er the calm bay's breast,

As winds come lightly whispering from the West,

Kissing, not ruffling, the blue deep's serene:—

Here Harold was received a welcome guest;

Nor did he pass unmoved the gentle scene,

For many a joy could he from Night's soft presence glean.

LXXI.

On the smooth shore the night-fires brightly blazed,

The feast was done, the red wine circling fast,N28

And he that unawares had there ygazed

With gaping wonderment had stared aghast;

For ere night's midmost, stillest hour was past,

The native revels of the troop began;

Each Palikar his sabre from him cast,N29

And bounding hand in hand, man linked to man,

Yelling their uncouth dirge, long daunced the kirtled clan.