Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 186.
Hands promiscuously applied,
Round the slight waist, or down the glowing side.
The Waltz.
He who hath bent him o'er the dead
Ere the first day of death is fled,—
The first dark day of nothingness,
The last of danger and distress,
Before decay's effacing fingers
Have swept the lines where beauty lingers.