114
CHILDE HAROLD’S PILGRIMAGE.
[CANTO II.
Distinct, though darkening with her waning phase;
But Mauritania's giant-shadows frown,
From mountain-cliff to coast descending sombre down.
XXIII.
'Tis night, when Meditation bids us feel
We once have loved, though Love is at an end:
The Heart, lone mourner of its baffled zeal,[1]
Though friendless now, will dream it had a friend.
Who with the weight of years would wish to bend,
When Youth itself survives young Love and Joy?
Alas! when mingling souls forget to blend,
Death hath but little left him to destroy!
Ah! happy years! once more who would not be a boy?[2]
XXIV.
Thus bending o'er the vessel's laving side,
To gaze on Dian's wave-reflected sphere,[3]
The Soul forgets her schemes of Hope and Pride,[4]
- ↑ Bleeds the lone heart, once boundless in its zeal.—[D.]
And friendless now, yet dreams it had a friend.—[MS.]
or, Far from affection's chilled or changing zeal.—[MS.]
Divided far by fortune, wave or steel
Though friendless now we once have had a friend.—[MS. D. erased.] - ↑ Ah! happy years! I would I were once more a boy.—[MS.]
- ↑ To gaze on Dian's wan reflected sphere.—[MS. D.]
- ↑ her dreams of hope and pride.—[MS. D. erased.]
