XLIII.

Now Harold felt himself at length alone, And bade to Christian tongues a long adieu; Now he adventured on a shore unknown,[145] Which all admire, but many dread to view: His breast was armed 'gainst fate, his wants were few Peril he sought not, but ne'er shrank to meet: The scene was savage, but the scene was new; _This_ made the ceaseless toil of travel sweet, Beat back keen Winter's blast, and welcomed Summer's heat.