III. Childe Harold was he hight: but whence his nan And lineage long, it suits me not to say; Nor all that heralds rake from coffin'd clay, IV. Childe Harold bask'd him in the noontide sun, Nor deem'd before his little day was done Then loathed he in his native land to dwell, Which seem'd to him more lone than Eremite's sad cel V. For he through Sin's long labyrinth had run, VI. And now Childe Harold was sore sick at heart, And from his native land resolved to go, And visit scorching climes beyond the sea; And e'en for change of scene would seek the shades belo VII. The Childe departed from his father's hall: So old, it seemed only not to fall, Yet strength was pillar'd in each massy aisle. VIII. Yet oft-times in his maddest mirthful mood Strange pangs would flash along Childe Harold's brow, As if the memory of some deadly feud Or disappointed passion lurk'd below: But this none knew, nor haply cared to know; Nor sought he friend to counsel or condole, And none did love him IX. though to hall and bower He gather'd revellers from far and near, But - not his lemans dear pomp and power alone are woman's care, And where these are light Eros finds a feere; Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare, And Mammon wins his way where Seraphs might despair. X. Childe Harold had a mother not forgot, Though parting from that mother he did shun; A sister whom he loved, but saw her not Before his weary pilgrimage begun : If friends he had, he bade adieu to none. Yet deem not thence his breast a breast of steel; A few dear objects, will in sadness feel Such partings break the heart they fondly hope to heal. XI. His house, his home, his heritage, his lands, Without a sigh he left, to cross the brine, And traverse Paynim shores, and pass Earth's central XII. The sails were fill'd, and fair the light winds blew, As glad to waft him from his native home; The silent thought, nor from his lips did come XIII. But when the sun was sinking in the sea He seized his harp, which he at times could string, And fleeting shores receded from his sight, Thus to the elements he pour'd his last "Good Night." |