Childe Harold's pilgrimage, a romaunt . o the year. LX. Adieu to thee again! a vain adieu!There can be no farewell to scene like thine;Tlic mind is colored by thy every hue;And if reluctantly the eyes resignTheir cherished gaze upon thee, lovely Rhine!T is with the thankful glance of parting praise;More mighty spots may rise — more glaring none unite in one attaching mazeThe brilliant, fair, and soft, — the glories of old days, LXI. The negligently grand, the fruitful bloomOf coming ripeness, the white citys sheen,The rolling stream, the precipices gloom,The forests growth, and Gothi
Childe Harold's pilgrimage, a romaunt . o the year. LX. Adieu to thee again! a vain adieu!There can be no farewell to scene like thine;Tlic mind is colored by thy every hue;And if reluctantly the eyes resignTheir cherished gaze upon thee, lovely Rhine!T is with the thankful glance of parting praise;More mighty spots may rise — more glaring none unite in one attaching mazeThe brilliant, fair, and soft, — the glories of old days, LXI. The negligently grand, the fruitful bloomOf coming ripeness, the white citys sheen,The rolling stream, the precipices gloom,The forests growth, and Gothic walls between,Tlie wild rocks shaped as they had turrets beenIn mockery of mans art; and these withalA race of faces happy as the scene,Whose fertile bounties here extend to springing oer thy banks, tliough Empires near them fall. 140 CHILDE HAROLDS CANTO III. LXII. But these recede. Above me are the Alps,The palaces of Nature, whose vast wallsHave pinnacled in clouds their snowy throned Eternity in icy halls. Of cold suldimity, where forms and fallsThe avalanche — the thunderbolt of snow !All that expands the spirit, yet appalls,Gather around these summits, as to showHow Earth may pierce to Heaven, yet leave vain man below. CANTO III. PILGRIM AGE. 141 ere these matchless heights I dare to scan,There is a spot should not be passed in vain, —Morat! the proud, the patriot field! where manMay gaze on ghastly troi)liies of the blush for those who conquerd on that plain;Here Burgundy bequeathed his tombless host,A bony heap, through ages to their monument; — the Stygian coastUnsepulchred they roamed, and shrieked each wandering ghost. LXIV. While Waterloo with Cannaes carnage vies,Morat and Marathon twin names shall stand;They were true Glorys stainless by the unambitious heart and handOf a proud, brotherly, and civic band,All unbought champions in no princely causeOf vice-entailed Corruption; they
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