CANTO THE FIRST. Oh, thou, in Hellas deemed of heavenly birth, Muse, formed or fabled at the minstrel’s will! Since shamed full…

I would I were a careless child, Still dwelling in my Highland cave, Or roaming through the dusky wild, Or bounding o’er…

When all around grew drear and dark, And reason half withheld her ray – And hope but shed a dying spark Which…

I A washing hangs upon the line,     but it’s not mine. None of the things that I can see     belong to me….