Childe Harold's pilgrimage : a romaunt . is feet,And yawning forth a grave for those who layUpon their bucklers for a winding-sheet;Such is the absorbing hate when warring nations meet! LXIV. The Earth to them was as a rolling barkWhich bore them to Eternity; they sawThe Ocean round, but had no time to markThe motions of their vessel; Natures law,In them suspended, reckd not of the aweWhich reigns when mountains tremble, and the birdsPlunge in the clouds for refuge,, and withdrawFrom their down-toppling nests; and bellowing herdsStumble oer heaving plains, and mans dread hath no words. LXV. Fa
Childe Harold's pilgrimage : a romaunt . is feet,And yawning forth a grave for those who layUpon their bucklers for a winding-sheet;Such is the absorbing hate when warring nations meet! LXIV. The Earth to them was as a rolling barkWhich bore them to Eternity; they sawThe Ocean round, but had no time to markThe motions of their vessel; Natures law,In them suspended, reckd not of the aweWhich reigns when mountains tremble, and the birdsPlunge in the clouds for refuge,, and withdrawFrom their down-toppling nests; and bellowing herdsStumble oer heaving plains, and mans dread hath no words. LXV. Far other scene is Thrasimene now; Her lake a sheet of silver, and her plain Bent by no ravage save the gentle plough; Her aged trees rise thick as once the slain Lay where their roots are ; but a brook hath taen— <ANT(» IV. child e harolds pilgrimage 223 A little rill of scanty stream and bed—A name of blood from that days sanguine rain ;And Sanguinetto tells ye where the deadMade the earth wet, and turnd the unwilling water TEMPLE OP CLITUMNC3 LXVI. But thou, Clitumnus ! in thy sweetest wave Of the most living crystal that was eer The haunt of river nymph, to gaze and lave Her limbs where nothing hid them, thou dost rear 224 chilue iiarolds pilgrimage CANTO IV Thy grassy banks whereon the milk-white steerGrazes ; the purest god of gentle waters !And most serene of aspect, and most clear;Surely that stream was unprofaned by slaughters,A mirror and a bath for Beautys youngest daughters ! LXV1I. And on thy happy shore a Temple still,Of small and delicate proportion, keeps,Upon a mild declivity of hill,Its memory of thee ; beneath it sweepsThy currents calmness ; oft from out it leapsThe finny darter with the glittering scales,Who dwells and revels in thy glassy deej)s ;While, chance, some scatter d water-lily sailsDown where the shallower wave still tells its bubbling tales. LXVIII, Pass not unblest the Genius of the place !If through the air a zephyr more sereneWin
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