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Byron's Childe Harold (canto Iv); Prisoner of Chillon and Other Selections
Byron's Childe Harold Prisoner of Chillon and Other Selections - canto Iv Author:George Gordon Byron Byron General Books publication date: 2009 Original publication date: 1911 Original Publisher: American Book Company Notes: This is a black and white OCR reprint of the original. It has no illustrations and there may be typos or missing text. When you buy the General Books edition of this book you get free trial access to Million-Books.com where y... more »ou can select from more than a million books for free. Excerpt: CHILDE HAROLD'S "GOOD NIGHT"1 TO HIS NATIVE LAND. Adieu, adieu! my native shore Fades o'er the waters blue; The night winds sigh, the breakers roar, And shrieks the wild sea mew. Yon sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight; Farewell awhile to him and thee, My native Land -- Good Night! A few short hours and he will rise To give the morrow birth; io And I shall hail the main and skies, But not my mother earth. Deserted is my own good hall, Its hearth is desolate; Wild weeds are gathering on the wall; 15 My dog howls at the gate. 1 This lyric is from the first canto of Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, published in 1812, when the author was but twenty-four. Byron tells us it " was suggested by Lord Maxwell's Good Night, in the Border Minstrelsy, edited by Mr. Scott." " Come hither, hither, my little page!1 Why dost thou weep and wail? Or dost thou dread the billows' rage, Or tremble at the gale? But dash the tear-drop from thine eye; Our ship is swift and strong: Our fleetest falcon scarce can fly More merrily along." " Let winds be shrill, let waves roll high, 25 I fear not wave nor wind: Yet marvel not, Sir Childe, that I Am sorrowful in mind; For I have from my father gone, A mother whom I love, 30 And have no friend, save these alone, But thee -- and one above. " My father blessed me fervently, Yet did not much complain; But sorely will my mother sigh 35 Till I come back again." -- " Enough, enough, my little lad! Such tears become thine eye; If I thy guileless bosom had, Mine own would n...« less