Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 2.djvu/394

352 Went down the vale of years; and 'tis their pride—

An honest pride—and let it be their praise,

To offer to the passing stranger's gaze

His mansion and his sepulchre—both plain

And venerably simple—such as raise

A feeling more accordant with his strain

Than if a Pyramid formed his monumental fane.

XXXII.

And the soft quiet hamlet where he dwelt

Is one of that complexion which seems made

For those who their mortality have felt,

And sought a refuge from their hopes decayed

In the deep umbrage of a green hill's shade,

Which shows a distant prospect far away

Of busy cities, now in vain displayed,

For they can lure no further; and the ray

Of a bright Sun can make sufficient holiday,