Childe Harold's pilgrimage / compiled by D.R. Thornton
| dc.contributor | Thornton, D.R. Computer Centre U of Durham |
| dc.contributor.author | Byron, George Gordon Byron, Baron, 1788-1824 |
| dc.date.accessioned | 2018-07-27 |
| dc.date.accessioned | 2019-07-04T09:52:55Z |
| dc.date.available | 2019-07-04T09:52:55Z |
| dc.date.created | 1812 |
| dc.date.issued | 1988-05-19 |
| dc.identifier | ota:1210 |
| dc.identifier.citation | http://purl.ox.ac.uk/ota/1210 |
| dc.identifier.uri | http://hdl.handle.net/20.500.12024/1210 |
| dc.description.abstract | In English Title from title page of source text |
| dc.format.extent | Text data less than 512 KB Contains markup characters |
| dc.format.medium | Digital bitstream |
| dc.language | English |
| dc.language.iso | eng |
| dc.publisher | University of Oxford |
| dc.relation.ispartof | Oxford Text Archive Core Collection |
| dc.rights | Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. |
| dc.rights.uri | http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/ |
| dc.rights.label | PUB |
| dc.subject.lcsh | Poems -- England -- 19th century |
| dc.subject.other | Poems |
| dc.title | Childe Harold's pilgrimage / compiled by D.R. Thornton |
| dc.type | Text |
| has.files | yes |
| branding | Oxford Text Archive |
| files.size | 225232 |
| files.count | 2 |
| otaterms.date.range | 1800-1899 |
This item is
Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported (CC BY-NC-SA 3.0)
Publicly Available
and licensed under:Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported (CC BY-NC-SA 3.0)
Files for this item
Download all local files for this item (219.95 KB)
- Name
- charold-1210.txt
- Size
- 215.32 KB
- Format
- Text file
- Description
- Version of the work in plain text format
<T CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE>
<A BYRON>
<H CANTO THE FIRST>
<L 1>
<V I>
Oh, thou! in Hellas deem'd of heavenly birth,
Music! form'd or fabled at the mins*trel"s will!
Since shamed full oft by later lyres on earth,
Mine dares not call thee from thy sacred hill:
Yet there I've wander'd by thy vaunted rill;
Yes sigh'd o'er Delphi's long deserted shrine,
Where, save that feeble fountain, all is s*till;
Nor more my shell awake the weary Nine
To grace so plain a tale-this lowly lay of mine.
<V II>
Whilome in Albion's isle there dwelt a youth,
Who ne in virtue's ways did take delight;
But spent his days in riot mos*t uncouth,
And vex'd with mirth the drowsy ear of Night.
Oh, me! in sooth he was a shameless wight,
Sore given to revel and ungodly glee;
Few earthly things found favour in his sight
Save concubines and carnal companie,
And flaunting wassailers of high and low degree. . . .
