at. thestare W. koch CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. TO IANTHE.* NOT in those climes where I have late been straying, Though Beauty long hath there been matchless deemed, Not in those visions to the heart displaying Forms which it sighs but to have only dreamed, To paint those charms which varied as they beamed- To those who gaze on thee, what language could they speak ? Ah! mayst thou ever be what now thou art, Lady Charlotte Harley, daughter of the Earl of Oxford. 272659 |