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 toward's 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.