Childe Harold's Pilgrimage.

A ROMAUNT.

B

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage.

A ROMAUNT.

CANTO I.

TO IANTHE.

NoT in those climes where I have late been straying,
Though Beauty long hath there been matchless deem'd;
Not in those visions to the heart displaying

Forms which it sighs but to have only dream'd
Hath aught like thee in truth or fancy seem❜d:

Nor having seen thee shall I vainly seek

To paint those charms which varied as they beam'd,

To such as see thee not

my words were weak,

To those who gaze on thee what language could they speak?