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CXVI.

To aid thy mind's developement, - to watch
Thy dawn of little joys, – to sit and see
Almost thy very growth, — to view thee catch
Knowledge of objects, — wonders yet to thee!
To hold thee lightly on a gentle knee,
And print on thy soft cheek a parent's kiss,
This, it should seem, was not reserved for me ·

Yet this was in my nature: - as it is,
I know not what is there, yet something like to this.

CXVII.

Yet, though dull hate as duty should be taught,
I know that thou wilt love me; though my name
Should be shut from thee, as a spell still frnught
With desolation, - and a broken clain :
Though the grave closed between us. ?rvere the same,
I know that thou wilt love me ; thoagli iu visain
My blood from out thy being, were an aim,

And an attainment, — all would be in vain,-
Still thou would'st love me, still that more than life retain.

CXVIII.

The child of love, - though born in bitterness,
And nurtured in convulsion. Of thy sire
Thesu were the elements, — and ibiu no less.
As yet such are around thee, - but thy fire
Shall be more temper'd, and thy hope for böcher.
Sweet be thy cradled slumbers i oer die sea,
And from the mountains where I now Iespire,

Fain would I waft such blessing upon thee,
As, with a sighi, I dcem thou might'st have been to me!

CHILDE HAROLA

PILGRIMAGE.

CANTO THE FOURTH.

Visto ho Toscana, Lombardia, Romagna.

Quel Monte che divide, 19e sit, i llaða, e un mare e l'altro, che la lagra

Arrosto, Sauna.

TO

JOHN HOBIIOUSE, ESQ. A.M. F.R.S

My dear IIObhouse,

Arten an interval of eight years between the composition of the first and last cantos of Childe Ilarold, the conclusion of the poem is about to be submitted to the public. In parting with so old a friend, it is not extraordinary that I should recur to one still older and better, to one who has beheld the birth and death of the other, and to whom I am far more indebted for the social advantages of an enlightened friendship, than-though not ungrateful — I can, or could be, to Childe Ilarold, for any public favour reflected through the poem on the poet, - to one, whom I have known long, and accompanied far, whom I have found wakeful over my sickness and kind in my sorrow, glad in my prosperity and firm in my adversity, true in counsel and trusty in peril to a friend often tried and never found wanting ; - to yourself.

In so doing, I recur from fiction to truth ; and in dedicating to you in its complete, or at least concluded state, a poetical work which is the longest, the most thoughtful and comprehensive of my compositions, I wish to do honour to myself by the record of many years' intimacy with a man of learning, of talent, of steadiness, and of honour. It is not for minds like ours to give or to receive flattery; yet the praises of sincerity have ever been permitted to the ice of friendship ; and it is not for you, nor even for others, but to relieve a heart which has not elsewhere, or lately, been so much accustomed to the encounter of good-will as to withstand the shock firmly, that I thus attempt to commemorate your good qualities, or rather the advantages which I have derived from their exertion. Even the recurrence of the date of this Ictter, the anniversary of the most unfortunate day of my past exist. ('nce, but which cannot poison my future while I retain the resource of your friendship, and of my own faculties, will henceforth have a more agrecable recollection for both, inasmuch as it will

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