The Works of Lord Byron, Volume 4

favourite an

ed since his

's image i

love of a

ather's deares

are, for wh

life, that h

d now, and o

o yet had h

natural o

s struck, a

d on the st

t is a fea

human sou

pe, in any

rushing for

on the brea

a swoln conv

he sick and

irious wit

ere horrors

such-but su

and so cal

worn, so s

s, yet so

for those he

while a cheek

mockery o

s as gentl

rting rai

ost transpa

made the dun

word of

er his unt

talk of b

ope my own

unk in sile

t loss, of

sighs he wo

g Nature's

drawn, grew

but I coul

or I was wi

s hopeless,

be thus

d thought I

in with one st

to him:-I f

red in this

ived, I

d breath of

e sole, the

and the ete

me to my f

in this f

earth, and

th had ceased

hand which l

wn was ful

rength to st

hat I was

feeling, w

love shall

ow n

d not

arthly hop

bade a selfi