We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow. Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him...
Journal of the Conversations of Lord Byron: Noted During a Residence with ... - Page 75
by Thomas Medwin - 1824 - 304 pages
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