What! shall it e'er be said by British tongue, Albion was happy while Athenæ mourned? Though in thy name the slave her bosom wrung, Albion! I would not see thee thus adorned With gains thy generous spirit should have scorned, From Man distinguished by some monstrous sign, Like Attila the Hun was surely horned,[§1] Who wrought the ravage amid works divine: Oh that Minerva's voice lent its keen aid to mine.--[MS. D. erased.] What! shall it e'er be said by British tongue, Albion was happy in Athenæ's tears? Though in thy name the slave her bosom wrung, Let it not vibrate in pale Europe's ears,[§2] The Saviour Queen, the free Britannia, wears The last poor blunder of a bleeding land: That she, whose generous aid her name endears, Tore down those remnants with a Harpy's hand, Which Envious Eld forbore and Tyrants left to stand.--[MS. D.][§3] [§1] Attila was horned, if we may trust contemporary legends, and the etchings of his visage in Lavater.--[M.S.] [§2] Lines 5-9 in the Dallas transcript are in Byron's handwriting. [§3] _Which centuries forgot_----.--[D. erased.] [ea] {108} After stanza xiii. the MS. inserts the two following stanzas:-- Come then, ye classic Thieves of each degree, Dark Hamilton[§1] and sullen Aberdeen, Come pilfer all the Pilgrim loves to see, All that yet consecrates the fading scene: Ah! better were it ye had never been, Nor ye, nor Elgin, nor that lesser wight. The victim sad of vase-collecting spleen. House-furnisher withal, one Thomas[§2] hight, Than ye should bear one stone from wronged Athenæ's site. Or will the gentle Dilettanti crew Now delegate the task to digging Gell,[§3] That mighty limner of a bird's eye view, How like to Nature let his volumes tell: Who can with him the folio's limit swell With all the Author saw, or said he saw? Who can topographize or delve so well? No boaster he, nor impudent and raw, His pencil, pen, and spade, alike without a flaw.--[D. erased.]