Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 2.djvu/117

CANTO I.] Had the sword laid thee with the mighty low,

Pride might forbid e'en Friendship to complain:

But thus unlaurelled to descend in vain,

By all forgotten, save the lonely breast,

And mix unbleeding with the boasted slain,

While Glory crowns so many a meaner crest!

What hadst thou done to sink so peacefully to rest?

XCII.

Oh, known the earliest, and esteemed the most!

Dear to a heart where nought was left so dear!

Though to my hopeless days for ever lost,

In dreams deny me not to see thee here!

And Morn in secret shall renew the tear

Of Consciousness awaking to her woes,

And Fancy hover o'er thy bloodless bier,

Till my frail frame return to whence it rose,

And mourned and mourner lie united in repose.

XCIII.

Here is one fytte of Harold's pilgrimage:

Ye who of him may further seek to know,