Childe Harold's pilgrimage, a romaunt . 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 , hati
Childe Harold's pilgrimage, a romaunt . 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 ?. CLXXVIII. There is a pleasure in the pathless is a rapture on the lonely shore,There is society, where none the deep sea, and music in its roar:I love not Man the less, but Nature these our interviews, in which I stealFrom all I may be, or have been mingle with the Universe, and feelWhat I can neer express, yet cannot all conceal. CANTO IV. PILGRIMAGE. 233 CLXxrx. Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean — roll!Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ;Man marks the earth with ruin—his controlStops with the shore; — upon the watery plainThe wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remainA shadow of mans ravage, save his own,When, for a moment, like a drop of sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan,Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown. CLXXX. His steps are not upon thy paths, — thy fieldsAre not a spoil for him, — thou dost ariseAnd shake him from thee; the vile strength he wieldsFor earths destruction thou dost a
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