The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy.

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 3.

The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree

I planted; they have torn me, and I bleed.

I should have known what fruit would spring from such a seed.

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 10.

[[545]]

Oh for one hour of blind old Dandolo,

The octogenarian chief, Byzantium's conquering foe![545:1]

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 12.