Who framed the stanza of Childe Harold? He It was who, halting on a stormy shore, Knew well the lofty voice which evermore, In grand distress, doth haunt the sleepless sea With solemn sounds. And as each wave did roll Till one came up, the mightiest of the whole, To sweep and surge across the vacant lea, Wild words were wedded to wild melody. This poet must have had a speechless sense Of some dead summer's boundless affluence; Else, whither can we trace the passioned lore Of Beauty, steeping to the very core His royal verse, and that rare light which lies About it, like a sunset in the skies? |