end.

Such is thy name[18] with this my verse entwined;
And long as kinder eyes a look shall cast[i]
On Harold's page, Ianthe's here enshrined
Shall thus be _first_ beheld, forgotten _last_:
My days once numbered--should this homage past
Attract thy fairy fingers near the Lyre
Of him who hailed thee loveliest, as thou wast--
Such is the most my Memory may desire;
Though more than Hope can claim, could Friendship less require?[j]

* * * * *

CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE.

A ROMAUNT.

* * * * *

CANTO THE FIRST.

I.[19]

Oh, thou! in Hellas deemed of heavenly birth,[k]
Muse! formed or fabled at the Minstrel's will!
Since shamed full oft by later lyres on earth,[l][20]
Mine dares not call thee from thy sacred Hill:
Yet there I've wandered by thy vaunted rill;[m]
Yes! sighed o'er Delphi's long deserted shrine,[1.B.]
Where, save that feeble fountain, all is still;
Nor mote my shell awake the weary Nine
To grace so plain a tale--this lowly lay of mine.

II.

Whilome in Albion's isle there dwelt a youth,
Who ne in Virtue's ways did take delight;
But spent his days in riot most uncouth,
And vexed with mirth the drowsy ear of Night.
Ah me! in sooth he was a shameless wight,
Sore given to revel and ungodly glee;[n]
Few earthly things found favour in his sight[o]
Save concubines and carnal companie,
And flaunting wassailers of high and low degree.[21]

III.

Childe Harold was he hight:[22]--but whence his name[p]
And lineage long, it suits me not to say;
Suffice it, that perchance they were of fame,
And had been glorious in another day:
But one sad losel soils a name for ay,[23]
However mighty in the olden time;
Nor all that heralds rake from coffined clay,
Nor florid prose, nor honied lies of rhyme,[q]
Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime.

IV.

Childe Harold basked him in the Noontide sun,[r]
Disporting there like any other fly;
Nor deemed before his little day was done
One blast might chill him into misery.