Few earthly things found lavoui ni ww way

Save concubines and carnal companie, Aud flaunting wassailers of high and low degree.

CANTO THE FIRST.

I.

Oh, thou! in Hellas deem'd of heavenly birth, Muse! form’d or fabled at the minstrel's will ! Since shained full oft by later lyres on earth, Mine dares not call thee from thy sacred hill : Yet there I've wander'd by thy vaunted rill ; Yes! sigh'd o'er Delphi's long deserted shrine,' 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 vex'd with mirth the drowsy ear of Night.
Ah me! in sooth he was a shameless wight,
Sore given to revel and ungodly glee ;
Few earthly things found favour in his sight?

Save concubines and carnal companie,
And flaunting wassailers of high and low degree.

III.

Childe Harold was he hight :-but whence his name
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 aye,
However mighty in the olden time ;
Nor all that heralds rake from coffin'd clay,

Nor florid prose, nor honied lies of rhyme,
Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime.

IV.

Childe Harold bask'd him in the noontide sun,
Disporting there like any other fly;
Nor deem'd before his little day was done
One blast might chill him into misery.
But long ere scarce a third of his pass'd by,
Worse than adversity the Childe befell ;
He felt the fulness of satiety :

Then loathed he in his native land to dwell,
Which seem'd to him more lone than Eremite's sad cell.

For he through Sin's long labyrinth had run,
Nor made atonement when he did amiss,
Had sigh’d to many though he loved but one,
And that loved one, alas ! could ne'er be his.
Ah, happy she ! to 'scape from him whose kiss
Had been pollution unto aught so chaste ;
Who soon had left her charms for vulgar bliss,

And spoild her goodly lands to gild his waste,
Nor calm domestic peace had ever deign'd to taste.