File:Childe Harold's pilgrimage - a romaunt (1869) (14592648430).jpg

Identifier: haroldspilgram00byro (find matches)
Title: Childe Harold's pilgrimage : a romaunt
Year: 1869 (1860s)
Authors: Byron, George Gordon Byron, Baron, 1788-1824 Skelton, Percival
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Publisher: London : John Murray
Contributing Library: Getty Research Institute
Digitizing Sponsor: Getty Research Institute

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nd gaze, and greatest of the greatDefies at first our Natures littleness,Till, growing with its growth, we thus dilateOur spirits to the size of that they contemplate. CLIX. Then pause, and be enlightend ; there is moreIn such a survey than the sating gazeOf wonder pleased, or awe which would adoreThe worship of the place, or the mere praise()f art and its great masters, who could raiseWhat former time, nor skill, nor thought could plan ;The fountain of sublimity displaysIts depth, and thence may draw the mind of manIts golden sands, and learn what great conceptions can. CLX. Or, turning to the Vatican, go see Laocoons torture dignifying pain— A fathers love and mortals agony With an immortals patience blending : Vain The struggle ; vain, against the coiling strain CANTO IV. childe harolus pilgrimage 269 And gripe, and deepening of the dragons grasp,The old mans clench; the long envenomd chainKivets the living links,—the enormous aspEnforces pang on pang, and stifles gasp on gasp.
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THE LAOOOON CLXI. Or view the Lord of the unerring bow,The God of life, and poesy, and light—The Sun in human limbs arrayd, and brow2 R 270 childe Harolds pilgrimage CANTO IV. All radiant from his triumph in the fight;The shaft hath just been shot—the arrow brightWith an immortals vengeance ; in his eyeAnd nostril beautiful disdain, and mightAnd majesty, flash their full lightnings by,Developing in that one glance the Deity. CLXIT. But in his delicate form—a dream of Love,Shaped by some solitary nymph, whose breastLongd for a deathless lover from above,And maddend in that vision—are exprestAll that ideal beauty ever blessdThe mind with in its most unearthly mood,When each conception was a heavenly guest—A ray of immortality—and stoodStarlike, around, until they gatherd to a god ! CLXII1. And if it be Prometheus stole from HeavenThe fire which we endure, it was repaidBy him to whom the energy was givenWhich this poetic marble hath arraydWith an eternal glory—which, if mad

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