Lord Byron

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (With Byron's Biography)


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deign to cast A look along my page, that name enshrined Shalt thou be first beheld, forgotten last.—[MS.]

      " ... the goblin

       That is hight Good-fellow Robin."

      Dodsley (ed. Hazlitt), xii. 253.]

      "'Hail, venerable pile!' whose ivied walls

       Proclaim the desolating lapse of years:

       And hail, ye hills, and murmuring waterfalls,

       Where yet her head the ruin'd Abbey rears.

       No longer now the matin tolling bell,

       Re-echoing loud among the woody glade,

       Calls the fat abbot from his drowsy cell,

       And warns the maid to flee, if yet a maid.

       No longer now the festive bowl goes round,

       Nor monks get drunk in honour of their God."]

      Of all his train there