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from the professional gladiators. Aurelian and Claudius i presides; and, after the horsemen and piccadores have supplied great numbers of these unfortunate victims, fought the bull, the matadore steps forward and bows the one after his triumph, and the other on the pretext to him for permission to kill the animal. If the bull has of a rebellion' No war, says Lipsius," was ever so de- done his duty by killing two or three horses, or a man, structive to the human race as these sports. In spite which last is rare, the people interfere with shouis, the of the laws of Constantine and Constans, gladiatorial ladies wave their handkerchiefs, and the animal is saved. shows survived the old established religion more than the wounds and death of the horses are accompanied seventy years; but they owed their final extinction to with the loudest acclamatious, and many gestures of the courage of a Christiao. In the year 404, on the ka-delight, especially from the female portion of the audilends of January, they were exhibiting the shows in the ence, including those of the gentlest blood. Everything Flavian amphitheatre before the usual immense con- depends on habit. The author of Childe Harold, the course of people. Almachjus or Telemachus, an eastern writer of this note, and one or two other Englishmen, monk, who had travelled to Rome intent on his holy who have certainly in other days borne the sight of a purpose, rushed into the midst of the area, and endea- pitched battle, were, during the summer of 1809, in the voured to separate the combatants. The prætor Alypius, governor's box at the great amphitheatre of Santa Maa person incredibly attached to these games, 3 gave instant ria, opposite to Cadiz. The death of one or two horses orders to the gladiators to slay him: and Telemachus completely satisfied their curiosity. A gentleman pregained the crown of martyrdom, and the title of saint, sent, observing them shudder and look pale, noticed which surely has never, either before or since, been that upusual reception of so delightful a sport to some awarded for a more noble exploit. Honorius imme- young ladies, who stared and smiled, and continued diately abolished the shows, which were never afterwards their applauses as another borse fell bleeding to the revived. The story is told by Theodoreti and Cassiodo- ground. One bull killed three horses off his own horns. rus,s and seems worthy of credit, notwithstanding its He was saved by acclamations, which were redoubled place in the Roman martyrology. Besides the torrents when it was known he belonged to a priest. of blood which flowed at the funerals, in the amphi- An Englishman, who cau be much pleased with seetheatres, the circus, the forums, and other public places, ing two men beat themselves to pieces, cannot bear to gladiators were introduced at feasts, and tore each other look at a horse galloping round an arena with his to pieces amidst the supper tables, to the great delight bowels trailing on the ground, and turns from the specand applause of the guests. Yet Lipsius permits himself tacle and the spectators with horror and disgust. to suppose the loss of courage, and the evident degene

Note 62. Stanza cxliv. racy of mankind, to be nearly connected with the aboli

Like laurels on the bald first Cæsar's head. tion of these bloody spectacles.7

Suetonius informs us that Julius Cæsar was particuNote 61. Stanza cxlii.

larly gratified by that decree of the senate, which enHere, where the Roman million's blame or praiso

abled him to wear a wreath of laurel on all occasions. Was death or life, the playthings of a crowd.

He was anxious, not to show that he was the conqueror When one gladiator wounded another, he shouted of the world, but to hide that he was bald. A stranger he has it,» « hoc habet,» or « habet. The wounded

at Rome would hardly have guessed at the motive, nor combatant dropped his weapon, and, advancing to the should we without the help of the historian. | edge of the arena, supplicated the spectators. If he had fought well, the people saved bim; if otherwise, or as

Note 63. Stanza cxlv. they happened to be inclined, they turned down their • While stands the Coliseum, Rome shall stand, - etc. thambs, and he was slain. They were occasionally so This is quoted in the Declipe and Fall of the Roman savage, that they were impatient if a combat lasted Empire: and a notice on the Coliseum may be seen in longer than ordinary without wounds or death. The the Historical Illustrations to the IVih Canto of Childe emperor's presence generally saved the vanquished : and Harold. it is recorded as an instance of Caracalla's ferocity, that

Note 64. Stanza cxlvi. he seat those who supplicated him for life, in a spec

spared and blost by time. Lacle at Nicomedia, to ask the people; in other words, banded them over to be slain.

Though plundered of all its brass, except the ring A similar ceremony

is observed at the Spanish bull-fights. The magistrate though exposed to repeated fires, though sometimes

which was necessary to preserve the aperture above, · Vopiscus, in vit. Aurel.; and, in vit. Claud. ibid.

tlooded by the river, and always open to the rain, no • Credo, imo scio, nullum bellum tantam cladem vastitiemque monument of equal antiquity is so well preserved as generi bomano intulisse, quam hos ad voluptatem ludos., Just. this rotunda.

It passed with little alteration from the Lips. ibid. lib. I, cap. xii.

Augustioas, (lib, vi, confess. cap. viii,) Alypium sunm gla- Pagan into the present worship; and so convenient were diatorii spectaculi inhiatu incredibiliter abreptum,» scribit. Ibid. its niches for the Christian altar, that Michael Angelo, lib. i. cap. xii.

ever studious of ancient beauty, introduced their desigu • Hist. Eccles. cap. xivi, lib. v.

as a model in the Catholic church.» • Cassiod. Tripartita, l. x, c. xi. Saturn. ib. ib.

• Baronius ad aon, et in potis ad Martyrol. Rom. 1. Jan. Forsyth's Remarks, etc., on Italy, p. 137. sec. edit. Marangoni delle memorie sacre e profane dell'Amfiteatro Flavio,

Note 65. Stanza cxlvii. p. 25. edit. 1746.

* Quod ! Bon to Lipsi momentum aliquod babuisse censes ad vir- And they who feel for genius may repose tatem ? Magnumo. Tempora nostra, nosque ipsos videamus. Oppidum

Their eyes on honour'd forms, whose busts around them close. erre anum alterumve captum, direptum est; tumultus circa nos, non The Pantheon has been made a receptacle for the in nobis : et tamen concidimus et iarbamur. Ubi robur, ubi tot per busts of modern great, or, at least, distinguished men. aapos nditata sapientia studia ? ubi ille animus qui possit dicere, si fracius illabatur orbis?, etc. ibid., lib. ii, cap. Xw. The proto- The flood of light which once fell through the large orb rype of Mr Windham's panegyric on bull-baiting.

above on the whole circle of divinities, now shines on

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a numerous assemblage of mortals, some one or two of From the same cminence are seen the Sabine bills, whom have been almost deified by the veneration of embosomed in wliich lies the long valley of Rustica. their countrymen.

There are several circumstances which tend to establisja

the identity of this valley with the « Ustica » of llorace : Note 66. Stanza cxlviii.

and it seems possible that the mosaic pavement which There is a dungeon, in whose dim drear light. This and the three next stanzas allude to the story of the peasants uncover by throwing up the earth of a vine

Rustica is pronounced the Roman Daughter, which is recalled to the traveller, yard, may belong to his villa.

short, not according to our stress upon-« Usticæ cuby the site or pretended site of that adventure now

bantis.»-lt is more rational to think that we are wrong, shown at the church of St Nicholas in carcere. The dif.

than that the inhabitants of this secluded valley have ficulties attending the full belief of the tale are stated

changed their tone in this word. The addition of the in Historical Illustrations, etc.

consonant prefixed is nothing: yet it is necessary to be Note 67. Stanza clii.

aware that Rustica may be a modern name which the Turn to the mole which Hadrian rear'd on high.

peasants may have caught from the antiquaries. The castle of Saint Angelo. See Historical Musira- The villa, or the mosaic, is in a vineyard on a knoll tions.

covered with chesnut-trees. A stream ruas down the Note 68. Stanza cliii.

valley, and although it is not true, as said in the guideBat lo! the dome--the vast and wondrous dome.

books, that this stream is called Licenza, yet there is a This and the six next stanzas have a reference to the village on a rock at the head of the valley which is so church of St Peter. For a measurement of the com denominated, and which may have taken its name from parative length of this basilica, and the other great the Digentia. Licenza contains 700 inhabitants. On a churches of Europe, see the pavement of St Peter's, peak a little way beyond is Civitella, containing 300. and the Classical Tour through Italy, vol. ii page 12.5, On the banks of the Anio, a little before you turn up et seq. chap. iv.

into Valle Rustica, to the left, about an hour from the

villa, is a town called Vico-varo, another favourable Notc 69. Stanza clxxi.

coincidence with the Varia of the poet. At the end of -- the strange fata Which tumbles mightiest sovereigns,

the valley, towards the Anio, there is a bare hill, crowned Mary died on the scaffold; Elizabeth of a broken with a little town called Bardela. At the foot of this heart; Charles V a hermit; Louis XIV a baukrupt in bill the rivulet of Licenza tlows, and is almost absorbed means and clery; Cromwell of anxiety; and, -«the in a wide sandy bed before it reaches the Anio. Nothing

greatest is behind,»---Napoleon lives a prisoner. To these can be more fortunate for the lines of the poet, whes ! sovereigns a long but superfluous list might be added ther in a metaphorical or direct sense : of names equally illustrious and unhappy.

« Ne quotiens reficit gelidus Digentia rivus,

Quem Mandela bibit rugosus frigore pagus.
Note 70. Stanza clxxiii.
Lo, Nemi! navell'd in the woody hills.

The stream is clear high up the valley, but before it The village of Nemi was near the Arician retreat of reaches the hill of Bardela looks green and yellow like Egeria, and, from the shades which embosomed the

a sulphur rivulet. temple of Diana, has preserved to this day its distinctive hour's walk from the vineyard where the pavement is

Rocca Giovane, a ruined village in the bills, half an | appellation of The Grove

. Nemi is but an evening's ride shown, does seem to be the site of the fane of Vacuna, from the comfortable ina of Albano,

and an inscription found there tells tiat this temple of Note

71.
Stanza clxxiv.

the Sabine victory was repaired by Vespasian.' With

these helps, and a position corresponding exactly to Tbo Tiber winds, and the broad ocean laves

every thing which the poet has told us of his retreat, we

may feel tolerably secure of our site. The whole declivity of the Alban hill is of unrivalled

The luill which should be Lucretilis is called Campabeauty, and from the convent on the highest point, nile, and by following up the rivulet to the preteuded which has succeeded to the temple of the Latian Jupi- Bandusia, you come to the roots of the higher mountain

the prospect embraces all the objects alluded io in Gennaro. singularly enough, the only spot of ploughed the cited stanza: the Mediterranean; the whole scene of the latter half of the Aneid; and the coast from beyond

land in the whole valley is on the knoll where this Ban

dusia rises, the mouth of the Tiber to the headland of Circeum and the Cape of Terracina.

Tu frigus amabile The site of Cicero's villa may be supposed either al

Præbes, et pecori vago.. The Grotta Ferrata, or at the Tusculum of Prince Lucien

The peasants show another spring near the mosaic Buonaparte.

The former was thought some years ago the actual pavemeut, which they call « Oradina,» and which flows site, as may be seen from Middleton's Life of Cicero. At trickles over into the Digentia. But we must not hope

down the hills into a tauk, or mill-dam, and thence present it has lost something of its credit, except for the Domenichinos. Sinc monks, of the Greek order, live

* To trace the Muses upwards to their spring, there, and the adjoining villa is a cardinal's summer- by exploring the windings of the romantic valley in house. The other villa, called Ruflinella, is on the sum

search of the Bandusian fountain. It seems strange that mit of the hill above Frascati, and many rich remains of Tusculum have been found there, besides seventytwo statues of different merit ind preservation, and seven buses.

-- and afar

Tbe Latian coast, etc. etc.

ter,

Feasis vomere tauris

II. CESAR VESPASIANVS

TONTIFEX MAXI XV 6. TRIB.

POTEST. CENSOR. EBEN

VicTORIR. VETVSTATE ILLAPSAN

YA. IMPENSA, RESTITVIT,

any one should have thought Bandusia a fountain of the exhortations of the moralist, may have made this work Digentia-Horace has not let drop a word of it; and this something more and better than a book of travels, but immortal spring has, in fact, been discovered in pos- they have not made it a book of travels; and this obsersession of the holders of many good things in Italy, the vation applies more especially to that enticing method monks. It was attached to the church of St Gervais of instruction conveyed by the perpetual introduction and Profais pear Venusia, where it was most likely to of the same Gallic Helot to reel and bluster before the be found. We shall not be so lucky as a late traveller rising generation, and terrify it into decency by the in finding the occasional pine still pendant on the poc display of all the excesses of the revolution. An anilie villa.

There is not a pine in the whole valley, but mosily against atheists and regicides in general, and there are two cypresses, which he evidently took, or mis- Frenchmen specifically, may be bonourable, and may took, for the tree in the ode. The truth is, that the pine be useful, as a record; but that antidote should either is now, as it was in the days of Virgil, a garden trec, and be administered in any work rather than a tour, or, at it was not at all likely to be found in the craguy accli- least, should be served up apart, and not so mixed with vities of the valley of Rustica. Horace probably had one the whole mass of information and reflection, as to give of them in the orchard close above his farm, immediately a bitterness to every page: for who would chuse to have overshadowing his villa, not on the rocky heights at the antipathies of any man, however just, for his trasome distance from his abode. The tourist may have velling companions? A tourist, unless he aspires to the easily supposed himself to have seen this pine figured in credit of prophecy, is not answerable for the changes the above cypresses, for the orange and lemon trees which may take place in the country which be describes : which throw such a bloom over his description of the but his reader may very fairly esteem all his political royal gardens at Naples, unless they have been since dis- portraits and deductions as so much waste paper, the piaced, were assuredly only acacias and other common moment they cease to assist, and more particularly if garden shrubs.3 The extreme disappointment experienced they obstruci, his actual survey. by chusing the Classical Tourist as a guide in Italy must

Neither encomium nor accusation of any governbe allowed to find vent in a few observations, which, it ment, or governors, is meant to be here offered; but it is asserted without fear of contradiction, will be con- is stated as an incontrovertible fact, that the change firmed by every one who has selected the same conduc operated, either by the address of the late imperial sysfor through the same country. This author is, in fact, tem, or by the disappointment of every expectation by one of the most inaccurate, unsatisfactory writers that those who have succeeded to the Italian thrones, las have in our times attained a temporary reputation, and been so considerable, and is so apparent, as not only is very seldom to be trusted even when he speaks of ob- to put Mr Eustace's Antigallican pliilippics entirely out jects which he must be presumed to have seen. Ilis er- of date, but even to throw soine suspicion upon the rors, fron

the simple exaggeration to the downright mis- competency and candour of the author himself. A restatement, are so frequent as so induce a suspicion that markable example may be found in the instance of Biohe had either never visited the spots described, or had logna, over whose papal attachments, and consequent trusted to the fidelity of former writers. Indeed the desolation, the tourist pours forth such strains of couClassical Tour has every characteristic of a mere com- dolence and revenge, made louder by the borrowed pilation of former notices, strung together upon a very trumpet of Mr Burke. Now, Bologna is at this moment, strader thread of personal observation, and swelled out and has been for some years, notorious amongst the by those decorations which are so casily supplied by a states of Italy for its attachment to revolutionary prinsystematic adoption of all the common-places of praise, ciples, and was almost the only city which made any applied to every thing, and therefore signifying nothing. demonstrations in favour of the unfortunate Murai.

The style which one person thinks clogy and cum- This change may, however, have been made sinec Mo brous, and unsuitable, may be to the taste of others, Eustace visited this country; but the traveller whom he and such may experience some salutary excitement in has thrilled witla borror at the projected stripping of the plouching through the periods of the Classical Tour. copper from the cupola of St Peter's, must be much It must be said, however, that polishi and weight are relieved to find that sacrilege out of the power of the 4pl to beget an expectation of value. It is amongst the French, or any other plunderers, the cupola being copains of the damned to toil up a climax with a huge vered with lend.' round stone.

If the conspiring voice of otherwise rival critics had The toarist had the choice of his words, but there was not given considerable currency to the Classical Tour, no such latitude allowed to that of his sentiments. The it would have been unnecessary to warn the reader, that, love of virtue and of liberty, which must have distin- however it may adorn his library, it will be of little or guished the character, certainly adorns the pages of Mr no service to him in his carriage; and if the judgment Eustace, and the gentlemanly spirit, so recomenda- of those critics had hitherto been suspended, no attempo lory either in an author or his productions, is very con- would have been made to anticipate their decision. As spicuons throughout the Classical Tour. But these ge- it is, those who stand in the relation of posterity to Mr nitoas qualities are the foliage of such a performance. Eustace may be permitted to appeal from contempo

be spread about it so prominently and pro- rary praises, and are perhaps more likcly to be just tusely, as to embarrass those who wish to see and find the fruit at hand. The unction of the divine, and the

may

my reader, when I inform him... Sce Historical Illustrations of the fourth Canto, p. 43.

turned its attention to Saint Peter's, and employed a company of Jews * See Classical Tour, etc., chap. vii, p. 250, vol. ii.

to estimate and purchase the gold, silver, and bronze, that adorn the 3. Ubier car windows, and bordering on the beach, is the royal inside of the editice, as rell as the copper thai covers the vaults and pard a, laid out in parterres, god sathe shared by rows of orange dome on the outside. Chap. iv, p. 130. vol, ii. The story about Clasicu! l'our, etc., chap. si, vol, ii, oct. 365.

ibe Jews is positively denied at Rome

1. What, then, will be the astonishment, or rather the horror of

the French Committee

i

in proportion as the causes of love and hatred are the advice of returning travellers, induced to abandon his farther removed. This appeal had, in some measure, design, although he had already arranged his types and been made before the above remarks were written; for paper, and had struck off one or two of the first sheets. one of the most respectable of the Florentine publishers, The writer of these notes would wish to part (like who had been persuaded the repeated inquiries of Mr Gibbon) on good terms with the Pope and the Carthose on their journey southwards, to reprint a cheap dinals, but he does not think it necessary to extend the edition of the Classical Tour, was, by the concurring same discreet silence to their bumble partisans.

The Giaour;

A FRAGMENT OF A TURKISH TALE.

One fatal remembrance-one sorrow that throws
Its bleak shade alike o'er our joys and our woes-
To which lifo nothing darker nor brighter can briog.
For which joy hath no balm--and affliction no sling.

MOORE.

TO SAMUEL ROGERS, ESQ.
88 A SLIGHT BUT MOST SINCERE TOKEN OF ADMIRATION OF HIS GENIUS,
RESPECT FOR HIS CHARACTER, AND GRATITUDE FOR HIS FRIENDSHIP,

This Production is Juseribed,
BY HIS OBLIGED AND AFFECTIONATE SERVANT,

BYRON.

ADVERTISEMENT.

Tub Tale which these disjointed fragments present is

founded upon circumstances now less common in the East than formerly; either because the ladies are more circumspect than in the «olden time;n or because the Christians have better fortune, or less enterprise. The story, when entire, contained the adventures of a female slave, who was thrown, in the Mussulman manner, into the sea for infidelity, and avenged by a young Venetian, her lover, at the time the Seven Islands were possessed by the Republic of Venice, and soon after the Arnaouts were beaten back from the Morea, which they had ravaged for some time subsequent to the Russian invasion. The desertion of the Mainotes, on being refused the plunder of Misitra, led to the abandonment of that enterprise, and to the desolation of the Morea, during which the cruelty exercised on all sides was unparalleled even in the annals of the faithful.

Fair clime! where every season smiles
Benignant o'er those blessed isles,
Which, seen from far Colonna's height,
Make glad the heart that hails the siglat,
And lend to loneliness delight.
There, mildly dimpling, Ocean's cheek
Retlects the tints of many a peak
Caught by the laughing lides that lave
These Edens of the eastern wave;
And if, at times, a transient breeze
Break the blue crystal of the seas,
Or sweep one blossom from the trees,
How welcome is each gentle air
That wakes and wafts the odours there!
For there-the rose o'er crag or vale,
Sultana of the nightingale, 2

The maid for whom his melody,

His thousand songs are heard on high, Blooms blushing to her lover's tale :

the garden queen, his rose, Unbent by winds, unchill'd by spows, Far from the winters of the west, By every breeze and season blest, Returns the sweets by nature given, In softest incense back to heaven; And grateful yields that smiling sky Her fairest hue and fragrant sigh. And many a summer flower is there, And many a shade that love might share, And many a grotto, meant for rest, That holds the pirate for a guest; Whose bark in sheltering cove below Lurks for the passing peaceful prow, Till the gay mariner's guitar 3 Is heard, and seen the evening star;

His queen,

THE GIAOUR.

No breath of air to break the wave
That rolls below the Athenian's grave,
That tomb' which, gleaming o'er the cliff,
First greets the homeward-veering skiff,
High o'er the land he saved in vain :
When shall such hero live again?

Then stealing with the muffled oar,
Far shaded by the rocky shore,
Rush the night-prowlers on the prey,
And turn to groans his roundelay.
Strange-that where nature loved to trace,
As if for gods, a dwelling-place,
And every charm and grace hath mix'd
Within the paradise she fixd,
There man, enamour'd of distress,
Should mar it into wilderness,
And trample, brute-like, o'er each flower
That tasks not one laborious hour;
Nor claims the culture of his hand
To bloom along the fairy land,
But springs as to preclude his care,
And sweetly woes him-but to spare !
Strange, that where all is peace beside
There passion riots in her pride,
And lust and rapine wildly reign
To darken o'er the fair domain.
It is as though the fiends prevail'd
Against the seraphs they assaild,
And, fxd on heavenly thrones, should dwell
The freed inheritors of hell;
So soft the scene, so formd for joy,
So curst the tyrants that destroy!

Was freedom's home or glory's grave!
Shrine of the mighty! can it be,
That this is all remains of thee?
Approach, thou craven crouching slave:

Say, is not this Thermopyläe ?
These waters blue that round you lave,

Oh servile offspring of the free, -
Pronounce what sea, what shore is this?
The gulf, the rock of Salamis !
These scenes, their story not unknown,
Arise, and make again your own;
Snatch from the ashes of your sires
The embers of their former fires:
And he who in the strife expires
Will add to theirs a name of fear
That tyranny shall quake to hear,
And leave his sons a hope, a fame,
They too will rather die than shame:
For freedom's battle once begun,
Bequeathi'd by bleeding sire to son,
Though baftled oft is ever won.
Bear witness, Greece, thy living page,
Attest it maoy a deathless age!
While kings, in dusty darkness hid,
Have left a nameless pyramid,
Thy heroes, though the general doom
Hath swept the column from their tomb,
A mightier monument command,
The mountains of their native land!
There points thy muse to stranger's eye
The graves of those that cannot die!
'T were long to tell, and sad to trace,
Each step from splendour to disgrace;
Enough-no foreign foc could quell
Thy soul, till from itself it fell;
Yes ! Self-abasement paved the way
To villain-bonds and despot-sway.

Ile who hath bent him o'er the dead,
Ere the first day of death is fled,
The first dark day of nothingness,
The last of danger and distrrss
(Before decay's effacing fingers
Have swept the lines where beauty lingers),
And mark'd the mild angelic air,
The rapture of repose that's there,
The fix'd, yet tender traits that streak
The languor of the placid cheek,
And—but for that sad shrouded eye,

That fires not, wins not, weeps not, now,

And but for that chill, changeless brow,
Where cold obstruction's apathy
Appals the gazing mourner's heart,
As if to him it could impart
The doom he dreads, yet dwells upon;
Yes, but for these, and lese alone,
Some moments, ay, one treacherous hour,
Ile still might doubt the tyrant's power ;
So fair, so calm, so softly seald,
The first, last look by death reveald !5
Such is the aspect of this shore:
"T is Greece, but living Greece no more!
So coldly sweet, so deadly fair,
We start, for soul is wanting there.
Hers is the loveliness in death,
That parts not quite with parting breathi;
But beauty with that fearful bloom,
That hue which haunts it to the tomb,
Expression's last receding ray,
A gilded halo hovering round decay,

The farewell beam of feeling past away!
Spark of that flame, perchance of heavenly birth,
Which gleams, but warms no more its cherish'd earth!

What can he tell who treads thy shore ?

No legend of thine olden time,
No theme on which the muse might soar,
High as thine own in days of yore,

When man was worthy of thy clime.
The hearts within thy valleys bred,
The fiery souls that might have led

Thy sons lo deeds sublime,
Now crawl from cradle to the grave,
Slaves-nay, the boodsmen of a slave,6

And callous, save to crime;
Stain'd with each evil that pollutes
Mankind, where least above the brutes;
Without even savage virtue blest,
Without one free or valiant breast.
Still to the neighbouring ports they waft
Proverbial wiles, and ancient craft;
In this the subtle Greek is found,
For this, and this alone, renown'd.
In vain might liberty invoke
The spirit to its bondage broke,
Or raise the neck that courts the yoke:
No more lier sorrows I bewail,
Yet this will be a mournful tale,
And they who listen may believe,
Who lieard it first bad cause to grieve.

Clime of the unforgotten brave! Whose land from plain to mountain-cave

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