Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt, Del 2 |
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L. Here in the sultriest season let him rest , Fresh is the green beneath those
aged trees ; Here winds of gentlest wing will fan his breast , From heaven itself he
may inhale the breeze : The plain is far beneath - oh ! let him seize Pure pleasure
...
L. Here in the sultriest season let him rest , Fresh is the green beneath those
aged trees ; Here winds of gentlest wing will fan his breast , From heaven itself he
may inhale the breeze : The plain is far beneath - oh ! let him seize Pure pleasure
...
Side
69 LIII . Oh ! where , Dodona ! is thine aged grove , Prophetic fount , and oracle
divine ? What valley echo'd the response of Jove ? What trace remaineth of the
Thunderer's shrine ! All , all forgotten — and shall man repine That his frail bonds
to ...
69 LIII . Oh ! where , Dodona ! is thine aged grove , Prophetic fount , and oracle
divine ? What valley echo'd the response of Jove ? What trace remaineth of the
Thunderer's shrine ! All , all forgotten — and shall man repine That his frail bonds
to ...
Side
... unwearied , throng ; Long shall the voyager , with the Ionian blast , Hail the
bright clime of battle and of song ; Long shall thine annals and immortal tongue
Fill with thy fame the youth of many a shore ; Boast of the aged ! lesson of the
young !
... unwearied , throng ; Long shall the voyager , with the Ionian blast , Hail the
bright clime of battle and of song ; Long shall thine annals and immortal tongue
Fill with thy fame the youth of many a shore ; Boast of the aged ! lesson of the
young !
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