Childe Harold's pilgrimage, a romaunt . sparesThe oval mirror of thy glassy lake;And, calm as cherished hate, its surface wearsA deep cold settled aspect nought can shake,All coiled into itself and round, as sleeps the snake. CLXXIV. And near Albanos scarce-divided wavesShine from a sister valley; — and afarThe Tiber winds, and the broad ocean lavesThe Latian coast where sprung the Epic war,Arms and the Man, whose reascending starRose oer an empire; — but beneath thy rightTully reposed from Rome; — and where yon barOf girdling mountains intercepts the sightThe Sabine farm was tilled, the weary
Childe Harold's pilgrimage, a romaunt . sparesThe oval mirror of thy glassy lake;And, calm as cherished hate, its surface wearsA deep cold settled aspect nought can shake,All coiled into itself and round, as sleeps the snake. CLXXIV. And near Albanos scarce-divided wavesShine from a sister valley; — and afarThe Tiber winds, and the broad ocean lavesThe Latian coast where sprung the Epic war,Arms and the Man, whose reascending starRose oer an empire; — but beneath thy rightTully reposed from Rome; — and where yon barOf girdling mountains intercepts the sightThe Sabine farm was tilled, the weary bards delight. CLXXV. But I forget. — My pilgrims shrine is he and I must part, — so let it be,—His task and mine alike are nearly done;Yet once more let us look upon the sea;The Midland Ocean breaks on him and me. CANTO IV. PILGRIMAGE. 231 And from the Albaii Mount we now beholdOur friend of youth, that ocean, which when weBeheld it last by Calpes rock unfoldThose waves, we followed on till the dark Euxine rolled. CLXXVL Upon the blue Symplegades: long years —Long, though not very many, since have doneTheir work on both; some suffering and some tearsHave left us nearly where we had begun:Yet not in vain our mortal race hath have had our reward — and it is here;That we can yet feel gladdened by the reap from earth, sea, joy almost as dearAs if there were no man to trouble what is clear. 232 CHILDE HAROLDS CANTO IV. CLXXVII. Oh! that the Desert were my dwelling-place,With one fair Spirit for my minister,That I might all forget the human , hating no one, love but only her!Ye Elements! — in whose ennobling stirI feel myself exalted — can ye notAccord me such a being ? Do I errIn deeming such inhabit many a with them to converse can rarely be our lot ?
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