The whiteness of his soul, and thus men o'er him wept.
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 57.
But there are wanderers o'er Eternity
Whose bark drives on and on, and anchor'd ne'er shall be.
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 70.
By the blue rushing of the arrowy Rhone.
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 71.
I live not in myself, but I become
Portion of that around me;[543:1] and to me
High mountains are a feeling, but the hum