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Childe Harold's pilgrimage / compiled by D.R. Thornton

 
dc.contributor Thornton, D.R. Computer Centre U of Durham
dc.contributor.author Byron, George Gordon Byron, Baron, 1788-1824
dc.date.accessioned 2018-07-27
dc.date.accessioned 2022-08-19T14:36:55Z
dc.date.available 2022-08-19T14:36:55Z
dc.date.created 1812
dc.date.issued 1988-05-19
dc.identifier ota:1210
dc.identifier.uri http://hdl.handle.net/20.500.14106/1210
dc.description.abstract In English Title from title page of source text
dc.format.extent Text data less than 512 KB Contains markup characters
dc.format.medium Digital bitstream
dc.language English
dc.language.iso eng
dc.publisher University of Oxford
dc.relation.ispartof Oxford Text Archive Core Collection
dc.rights Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
dc.rights.uri http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/
dc.rights.label PUB
dc.subject.lcsh Poems -- England -- 19th century
dc.subject.other Poems
dc.title Childe Harold's pilgrimage / compiled by D.R. Thornton
dc.type Text
has.files yes
branding Oxford Text Archive
branding Oxford Text Archive
files.size 220491
files.count 1
otaterms.date.range 1800-1899

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<T CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE>
                     <A BYRON>
              <H CANTO THE FIRST>
                     <L 1>
                     <V I>
Oh, thou! in Hellas deem'd of heavenly birth,
Music! form'd or fabled at the mins*trel"s will!
Since shamed full oft by later lyres on earth,
Mine dares not call thee from thy sacred hill:
Yet there I've wander'd by thy vaunted rill;
Yes sigh'd o'er Delphi's long deserted shrine,
Where, save that feeble fountain, all is s*till;
Nor more my shell awake the weary Nine
To grace so plain a tale-this lowly lay of mine.
                     <V II>
Whilome in Albion's isle there dwelt a youth,
Who ne in virtue's ways did take delight;
But spent his days in riot mos*t uncouth,
And vex'd with mirth the drowsy ear of Night.
Oh, me! in sooth he was a shameless wight,
Sore given to revel and ungodly glee;
Few earthly things found favour in his sight
Save concubines and carnal companie,
And flaunting wassailers of high and low degree. . . .
										

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