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Chapters (57)
  1. Manfred
  2. Manfred
  3. INTRODUCTION TO MANFRED
  4. Scene II.—The Mountain of the Jungfrau.—Time, Morning.—Manfred alone upon the cliffs.
  5. Scene IV.—The Hall ofArimanes.—Arimanes on his Throne, a Globe of Fire, surrounded by the Spirits.
  6. Scene IV.—Interior of the Tower.
  7. The Life of Lord Byron by John Galt
  8. AUTHOR’S INTRODUCTION
  9. CHAPTER I
  10. CHAPTER II
  11. CHAPTER III
  12. CHAPTER IV
  13. CHAPTER V
  14. CHAPTER VI
  15. CHAPTER VII
  16. CHAPTER VIII
  17. CHAPTER IX
  18. CHAPTER X
  19. CHAPTER XI
  20. CHAPTER XII
  21. CHAPTER XIII
  22. CHAPTER XIV
  23. CHAPTER XV
  24. CHAPTER XVI
  25. CHAPTER XVII
  26. CHAPTER XVIII
  27. CHAPTER XIX
  28. CHAPTER XX
  29. CHAPTER XXI
  30. CHAPTER XXII
  31. CHAPTER XXIII
  32. CHAPTER XXIV
  33. CHAPTER XXV
  34. CHAPTER XXVI
  35. CHAPTER XXVII
  36. CHAPTER XXVIII
  37. CHAPTER XXIX
  38. CHAPTER XXX
  39. CHAPTER XXXI
  40. CHAPTER XXXII
  41. CHAPTER XXXIII
  42. CHAPTER XXXIV
  43. CHAPTER XXXV
  44. CHAPTER XXXVI
  45. CHAPTER XXXVII
  46. CHAPTER XXXVIII
  47. CHAPTER XXXIX
  48. CHAPTER XL
  49. CHAPTER XLI
  50. CHAPTER XLII
  51. CHAPTER XLIII
  52. CHAPTER XLIV
  53. CHAPTER XLV
  54. CHAPTER XLVI
  55. CHAPTER XLVII
  56. CHAPTER XLVIII
  57. CHAPTER XLIX

“The Albanians in general (I do not mean the cultivators of the earth in the provinces, who have also that appellation, but the mountaineers) have a fine cast of countenance; and the most beautiful women I have ever beheld, in stature and in features, we saw levelling the road broken down by the torrents between Delvinaki and Libokavo.  Their manner of walking is truly theatrical, but this strut is probably the effect of the capote or cloak depending from one shoulder.  Their long hair reminds you of the Spartans, and their courage in desultory warfare is unquestionable.  Though they have some cavalry among the Gedges, I never saw a good Arnaout horseman, but on foot they are never to be subdued.”

The travellers having left Volondorako proceeded southward until they came near to the seaside, and passing along the shore, under a castle belonging to Ali Pasha, on the lofty summit of a steep rock, they at last reached Nicopolis again, the ruins of which they revisited.

On their arrival at Prevesa, they had no choice left but that of crossing Carnia, and the country being, as already mentioned, overrun with robbers, they provided themselves with a guard of thirty-seven soldiers, and procured another galliot to take them down the Gulf of Arta, to the place whence they were to commence their land journey.

Having embarked, they continued sailing with very little wind until they reached the fortress of Vonitza, where they waited all night for the freshening of the morning breeze, with which they again set sail, and about four o’clock in the afternoon arrived at Utraikee.

At this place there was only a custom house and a barrack for troops close to each other, and surrounded, except towards the water, by a high wall.  In the evening the gates were secured, and preparations made for feeding their Albanian guards; a goat was killed and roasted whole, and four fires were kindled in the yard, around which the soldiers seated themselves in parties.  After eating and drinking, the greater part of them assembled at the largest of the fires, and, while the travellers were themselves with the elders of the party seated on the ground, danced round the blaze to their own songs, with astonishing Highland energy.

Childe Harold at a little distance stood,
   And view’d, but not displeased, the revelry,
   Nor hated harmless mirth, however rude;
   In sooth, it was no vulgar sight to see
   Their barbarous, yet their not indecent glee;
   And as the flames along their faces gleam’d,
   Their gestures nimble, dark eyes flashing free,
   The long wild locks that to their girdles stream’d,
   While thus in concert they this lay half sang, half scream’d.

“I talk not of mercy, I talk not of fear;
   He neither must know who would serve the vizier;
   Since the days of our prophet, the crescent ne’er saw
   A chief ever glorious like Ali Pashaw.

CHAPTER XV

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