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Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare,
Childe Harold had a mother—not forgot,
A few dear objects, will in sadness feel
XI. . His house, his home, his heritage, his lands, The laughing dames in whom he did delight, Whose large blue eyes, fair locks, and snowy hands, Might shake the saintship of an anchorite, And long had fed his youthful appetite ; His goblets brimm'd with every costly wine, And all that mote to luxury invite, Without a sigh he left, to cross the brine, And traverse Paynim shores, and pass Earth's central line.
The sails were fill'd, and fair the light winds blew,
One word of wail whilst others sate and wept,
XIII. But when the sun was sinking in the sea He seized his harp which he at times could string, And strike, albeit with untaught melody, When deem'd he no strange ear was listening: And now his fingers o'er it he did fling, And tuned his farewell in the dim twilight. While flew the vessel on her snowy wing,
And fleeting shores receded from his sight, Thus to the elements he pour'd his last“ Good Night.”
“ Adieu, adieu! my native shore
Fades o'er the waters blue;
And shrieks the wild seamew.
My native land-Good Night!
“A few short hours and He will rise
To give the Morrow birth ;
But not my mother Earth.
Its hearth is desolate;
My dog howls at the gate.
“Come hither, hither, my little page!
Why dost thou weep and wail ?
Or tremble at the gale?
Our ship is swift and strong: Our fleetest falcon scarce can fly
More merrily along."
4. • Let winds be shrill, let waves roll high,
I fear not wave nor wind;
Am sorrowful in mind;
A mother whom I love,
But thee-and one above.
My father bless'd me fervently,
Yet did not much complain ; But sorely will my mother sigh
Till I come back again.'— “Enough, enough, my little lad!
Such tears become thine eye; If I thy guileless bosom had
Mine own would not be dry.
6. “Come hither, hither, my staunch yeoman,
Why dost thou look so pale ?
Or shiver at the gale ?”—
Sir Childe I'm not so weak;
Will blanch a faithful cheek.
My spouse and boys dwell near thy hall,
Along the bordering lake,
What answer shall she make ??—
Thy grief let none gainsay; But I, who am of lighter mood,
Will laugh to flee away.
* For who would trust the seeming sighs
Of wife or paramour ?
We late saw streaming o'er.
Nor perils gathering near ;
No thing that claims a tear.
“And now I'm in the world alone,
Upon the wide, wide sea :
When none will sigh for me?
Till fed by stranger hands; But long ere I come back again,
He'd tear me where he stands.
10. “ With thee, my bark, I'll swiftly go
Athwart the foaming brine; Nor care what land thou bear'st me to,
So not again to mine. Welcome, welcome, ye dark-blue waves!
And when you fail my sight, Welcome, ye deserts, and ye caves !
My native land-Good Night !"