Childe Harold

Lo, a large black-shrouded barge
Sadly moves with sails outspread,
And mute creatures’ muffled features
Hold grim watch above the dead.

Calm below it lies the poet
With his fair face bare and white,
Still with yearning ever turning
Azure eyes towards heaven’s light.

As he saileth sadly waileth
Some bereaven undine-bride.
O’er the springing waves outringing,
Hark! a dirge floats far and wide.